Proclaim, FPC!

Text: 1 Peter 2:9-10
Theme: “Proclaim, FPC!”
5th Sunday of Easter
May 22, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

In the Name of Jesus

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

Contrary to the prediction of Harold Camping and the quote-unquote “ministry” called Family Radio, the end of the world did not come early last evening at 6:00 PM. Some of you may be disappointed; some of you may be thrilled. I don’t know. What I do know is that predictions about when the world will end or when Christ will come in glory for a second time have, in the history of Christianity, been consistent, amusing, and silly. This latest prediction will do little more in our culture than provide fresh satirical material for the Jay Lenos, David Lettermans, Conan O’Briens, Jon Stewarts, and Stephen Colberts of the world. I was watching the Mavs game last night, so I forgot to see what Saturday Night Live was going to do with the end of the world. But I’m sure they had a field day. Despite these predictive distractions which the modern media – mildly hostile to Christianity – will milk for all their worth, the mission of Jesus Christ and His Gospel marches on. And here we are, on the Fifth Sunday of Easter, smack-dab in the middle of that march and, hopefully, glad to be a part of it.

This morning I’d like to share some thoughts with you on the missio dei; that’s Latin for the “mission of God”. It has been said that the church of God – and we, as Presbyterians, claim to be a part of it – has a mission. Well, that’s true. But on a deeper, fuller level of truth, the best way to state it is like this: the mission of God has a church. Closer to home, First Presbyterian Church has a Mission Statement (printed for all to see on our Sunday bulletin) and a Mission, Growth, and Outreach committee; the members of the group are dedicated Christians. This is good. But it’s not good if it means that mission is only one part of who we are and what we do. The fact is, every committee is – and ought to be! – a mission committee!

Without mission informing, shaping, and animating everything that the church does, congregations like ours become little more than social clubs for the like-minded with membership dues expected to be paid in a reasonable amount of time. Without mission as the beating heart of the church’s existence, the congregation becomes something of an extended family. This is not all bad. But if that’s all there is, it is disaster waiting to happen. As Edwin Friedman has pointed out in his monumental work, Generation to Generation, that local arm of the mission of God – which we call the congregation – often behaves like a family. If you took a helicopter ride over certain Denton neighborhoods at sunset, you’d look down to see houses set up like little pieces on a Monopoly game board. There are people in those houses. Some are awake; others are asleep. Some are cooking dinner; others are cooking meth amphetamine and crack cocaine. Some watch TV; others play video games. In one home, they family may be bowing their heads for a table prayer. But next door, one family member may be screaming at another and kicking in a door. In one home, a mother serves lemonade. But three doors down, a father becomes belligerent and abusive, yet again, on account of so much bourbon. As with all families in those homes, there are good behaviors and not-so-good behaviors.

In many congregations (particularly smaller ones like ours), something along the same lines is happening. Behaviors have been entrenched for years. “It’s just the way we are; it’s the way we do things,” people might say. There are “elephants” in our collective “living room” that we best not disturb. Eventually, something dramatic might happen – say, a new minister comes on the scene (sound familiar?) – and there is a rush of enthusiasm. But, sooner or later, the novelty wears off, and the old behaviors reassert themselves. Only when one person or a group of people has the nerve to say “Stop it,” “enough”, and “no more” will the mission of God, the missio dei, reassert itself. But that’s a very risky thing to do when you have an extended family type of church with mission more along the lines of institutional self-preservation. If the mission of the church consists of hoping to pay the mortgage and keep the lights on, something has gone horribly wrong.

For my own part, I do not understand my call from God, mediated through you, to involve preserving the institution of First Presbyterian Church. In addition, my call is not to do a job for a few hours a week and hold on tight until I feel secure enough to retire. Likewise, I do not view my call as involving a charge to be a “Yes Man” for Grace Presbytery or the PCUSA. My call, rather, is to serve you with the Word of God (specifically, the Gospel of Jesus Christ) and administer the Sacraments – Baptism and the Lord’s Supper – according to Christ’s institution.

A couple of Sundays ago, our friend Robert Jones spoke to us from this pulpit about the upcoming mission/work trip that our young people are going to take in the first few weeks of June. Wherever they go, they are going to be a part of the missio dei; they will be in mission. Meanwhile, back here in Denton, we’ll commission them in solemn assembly, wish them the best, pray for them, cheer them on, take pride in their activities, look forward to their report when they get back, and so forth.

But what if something else happened? How long will they be gone, a week? What if, when they got back, we were the ones that gave them a report? What if, while they are away, each of us did something each day – purposefully and intentionally – to, in the language of our congregation’s mission statement, “share the good news of the Gospel” and “serve others”? What if each of us back home wrote down what we did with and for the mission of God? In other words, you’d submit a journal entry each day. On the Sunday when our youth return, we’d have an offering of our mission activities. We’d bring forward a basket of our journal entries. Instead of a sermon, we’d pull a few of the journal entries out of the basket and read them. But here’s the thing: you don’t sign your name to it. There’s an old saying that goes like this: “There’s no telling how far a person can go in life if he/she doesn’t mind who gets the credit.”

This leads to a comment on the two word title of today’s sermon: “Proclaim, FPC!” The most important thing about those two words is not the two words. Rather, it’s the punctuation. I’m talking about the comma. Take out that comma and what would we be proclaiming? Ourselves! First Presbyterian Church! Proclaim FPC!

There are three branches of government: executive, legislative, and judicial. Someone once said that the fourth branch of government is the media, and this is so on account of their influence. I would submit that there’s even a fifth branch of government. There’s something else that governs our lives, and that is marketing and advertising. A popular word for marketers and advertisers is “branding.” Some would assert, not without merit, that good “branding” is essential to the mission and success of any business, institution, or even church. That being said, what’s the “brand” of the Presbyterian Church (USA)? What’s the “brand” of First Presbyterian Church of Denton?

If we take the comma out, if all we do is Proclaim FPC, then we’re doing little more than marketing, advertising, and trumpeting our brand. The Presbyterian Church has tried that for years, and the results are abysmal. The sad truth, the elephant in the living room, is that the Presbyterian Church – as a denomination -- is losing members hand over fist. At some denominational meetings I’ve attended, there’s this vague feeling I get that we are arranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

I pledge to you that I will do my best to fight that trend. But I won’t do it with marshaling whatever powers of creativity I have to come up with a better “brand.” Instead, I will work with you to put the comma back in.

When we put the comma back in, the question involves what are we here to proclaim. Our reading from God’s Word provides the answer. My friends, you are not a statistic; you are not a demographic; you are not part of a polling group. Listen to what the Word of God says. You are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light!”

Yes, the mission of God marches on, and we are a part of it! It’s not that our church has a mission. It’s that God’s mission has our church!

Amen.

Reverent Fear and Heartfelt Love

Text: 1 Peter 1:17-23

Theme: “Reverent Fear and Heartfelt Love”

3rd Sunday of Easter/Mother's Day

May 8, 2011

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

In the Name of Jesus

¹⁷ Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear. ¹⁸ For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, ¹⁹ but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. ²⁰ He was chosen before the creation of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake. ²¹ Through him you believe in God, who raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so your faith and hope are in God.

²² Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.^{[b] 23} For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. ²⁴ For,

“All people are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;
the grass withers and the flowers fall,
²⁵ but the word of the Lord endures forever.”^[c]

Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers among us! I speak to you mothers and to all of you today as a very fortunate man. I’ve been privileged to witness four generations of motherhood in action. I remember my grandmothers today. Grandma Dunklau, quite elderly, once had me sit down at her piano in Arlington, Nebraska. I played #416 from The Lutheran Hymnal. I can almost hear her voice and see her tears as she joined in with “Oh, that the Lord Would Guide My Ways.” I remember my Grandma Eggert. She once insisted that I had to take her home quickly from dinner at a restaurant. “Why Grandma?” I asked. “I need to get home to watch my show on TV.” “Which show is that?” I replied. “You have to promise me you won’t tell you mother,” she said, “but I watch Dallas.”

I remember my own mother, who, when beating me in a golf game in my high school years, said, “Paul, I won’t tell anyone.” I celebrate my mother-in-law, Pat, who raised four beautiful children while continuing a kind of local and social activism that would make the founders of Mother’s Day proud. I get to be married to a woman who has raised her children to know of their roots which are deep in the soil of unconditional love. She also gave them wings to fly where their dreams and ambitions would lead. And finally, in this fast-paced, confusing world that is riddled with fear like bullets from a machine gun, I’ve been thrilled to watch my stepdaughter raise a son with a passion and good cheer that are truly effervescent and inspiring.

I’d like to share with you an entry from an old diary. The selection is dated to the month of February in 1884. The place of writing is New York City and the author is only twenty three years old. His name is Theodore Roosevelt, and he would eventually become the 26^th President of the United States. Here’s what he wrote in his diary:

Alice Hathaway Lee, born at Chestnut Hill, July 28^th, 1861. I saw her first

in October of 1878; I wooed her for over a year before I won her; we were

betrothed on January 25^th 1880, and it was announced on February 16^th;

on October 27^th of the same year we were married; we spent three years of

happiness greater and more unalloyed than I have ever known fall to the

lot of others; on February 12^th, 1884, her baby was born and on February

14^th she died in my arms, and my mother had died in the same house,

on the same day, but a few hours previously. On February 16^th they were

buried together in Greenwood. On February 17^th I christened the baby

Alice Lee Roosevelt. For joy or for sorrow my life has now been lived out.

On February 14, 1884, the day that BOTH his mother and the mother of his child died, there was only a short entry. He wrote a large letter X on the page and wrote the following underneath: “The light has gone out of my life.”

If anyone could understand the true origins of Mother’s Day in the United States, it was Roosevelt. Motherhood was the light of his life, and its value to him was equal only to his grief at its loss.

Although Mother’s Day in America is sometimes called a “Hallmark” holiday, it did not begin with a greeting card company. One report this week declared that Americans spent $129.00, on average, for their mothers on Mother’s Day in 2010. This year, the amount is expected to approach $140.00. But the economics of the day are not our concern. The origin of the day and its observance, however, are.

For the origin, in our country, we turn back time to the 1850s, and we note that it started with the acknowledgment of sickness, pain, the facing of life’s limits, and hopes for peace. There was a mother, Anna Jarvis, a homemaker in the Appalachian mountain range, who wanted to raise awareness of poor health conditions in her community. She thought the cause could best be advocated by mothers. She called it “Mother’s Work Day.”

Fifteen years later, Julia Ward Howe, a Boston poet, pacifist, suffragist, and author of the lyrics to the “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” organized a day encouraging mothers to rally for peace, since she believed, as one author points out, that they (mothers) “bore the loss of human life more harshly than anyone else. “

In 1905 the daughter of Anna Jarvis, also named Anna, began a campaign to memorialize the life and work of her mother. Her effort took her to the halls of congress and to the White House itself where she lobbied Presidents Roosevelt, Taft, and Wilson to create a day to honor mothers. Her mother’s favorite flower, the white carnation, became a national symbol of Mother’s Day which became a national holiday at the signature of President Woodrow Wilson in 1914.

Some of our first lessons about the world we live in come from our mothers. Some of our first lessons about love come from our mothers. As we grow and mature, many of teachings continue to be shaped by our families, our culture, through education and the world around us.

It’s important to note that Mother’s Day falls during the season of Easter as we celebrate the resurrection of the Lord Jesus from the grave. As our mothers brought us into the world, Jesus Christ, in His triumph over death, brought into the world the first glimpse of the new creation. He rose, victorious from the tomb, to show us our destiny.

Until we ourselves reach that destiny, or, as the The Apostles’ Creed puts it, “the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting”, we are what today’s text from God’s Word calls “exiles” or “foreigners.” We may, at times, sing with Lee Greenwood: “I’m proud to be an American where at least I know I’m free, and won’t forget those who died who gave that right to me.” We may be, as the saying goes, “Texas born and Texas bred, and when I die I’m Texas dead.” But ultimately, we’re all on a journey to our ultimate home! St. Augustine called that the “City of God,” or, as John Winthrop put it, the “shining city on a hill.”

You may not believe this. And the fact is, I can’t make you believe it or, worse, force you to believe it. I wouldn’t want to anyway; that’s not my job. My job is simply to proclaim it, and then leave the rest to the Holy Spirit.

We all have a variety – a diversity, if you will – of viewpoints, beliefs, and opinions. But, for the moment, I’m going to assume that we’re all on the same page when it comes to this matter of being foreigners and exiles in this life on our way home to God.

My question, therefore, is: what would life as “foreigner” or an “exile” look like? Our text is quick to supply the answer: “Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear.” Did you catch that? It doesn’t say “Live out your lives in fear.” Based on a cursory look at the times we live in, it would appear that we already have that down pat. Rather, it say to live out life in “reverent fear.”

Reverent fear acknowledges that life on this earth is far more than the sum total of triumphs, tragedies, and our reactions to the same. Reverent fear confesses that Jesus Christ died and rose for you, for me, and for us all. That will color and shape all of life. Reverent fear looks at life and says: “God is in control, and God is gracious.” Reverent fear is happy to sing, in the words of a best-loved hymn: “God’s grace has brought me safe thus far; God’s grace shall lead me home.”

Again, what does life as a foreigner and exile look like? It looks like people, people on their way home to God, that love one another from the heart. Again, hear the words from our text: “Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.”

Folks, it’s possible to love people in your thoughts – as in, “I think I love you.” It’s possible to love people in theory. Theoretically, would it not be a better world if we loved one another? It’s possible to love people in terms of an obligation – as if love were solely a matter of duty. Yes, it’s possible to love others mentally, theoretically, and dutifully. You can love in all these ways – but not effectively.

Effective love is heartfelt love, self-giving love, sacrificial love, the love that comes from the heart of God. It’s a love that at so many times and in so may ways is channeled through a mother.

In the 1600s, in the midst of a thirty years wary, at a time when one Protestant pastor was burying far more people than baptizing them, Martin Rinkart could still write words that capture the reverent fear and heartfelt love of which the Scripture speaks:

Now thank we all our God with hearts and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things hath done, in whom His world rejoices.

Who, from our mothers’ arms, hath blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

Reverent fear and heartfelt love: this is what it’s all about.

Amen.

Our Annual Conversation with Thomas

Text: Matthew 28:1-10

Theme: “Our Annual Conversation withThomas”

2^nd Sunday of Easter

May 1, 2011

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

In the Name of Jesus

The second Sunday of Easter has arrived; thus, it’s time for our annual conversation with the apostle Thomas. Thomas, a lesser-known figure in the Bible, checks in with us about once a year during the Easter season.

An “apostle” is defined as “one who is sent.” On Easter evening, Jesus instituted the sending of Thomas and the other ten disciples (the successor to Judas had not been chosen yet). Not only were they disciples, they were now apostles. Jesus said, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”

Thomas wasn’t there to be sent that night. Apparently, he was A.W.O.L. – “absent without leave”. The other ten, though, were present and accounted for. On Easter Sunday evening, they were locked behind closed doors. Why the lock? The motive for locking the door was fear. They didn’t want anyone in who might be something other than favorably disposed toward them. Fear seems to segregate, doesn’t it? After all, Jesus went off and got Himself killed. Would they be next? So it was best to hide out.

But locked doors were never a problem for our Lord. Jesus, now risen from the dead, had no need of a key, a thumbprint, a combination, an access code, or a bar-coded ID card on a lanyard. The Gospel of John simply reports that He came and stood among them, and they were overjoyed. By the way, He did show them something: his hands (with the nailmarks) and his side (where the spear went through).

“As the Father has sent me, I am sending you,” Jesus declares. Having so spoken, He then proceeded to breathe on them with more words: “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven. If you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.” With that statement, the ministry of the church was born.

At Good Friday’s cross and Easter Sunday’s empty tomb, the forgiveness of sins for all of us was earned and achieved. The victory was won. In the ministry of the church, the fruits of that victory – specifically, the forgiveness of sins – are delivered. It’s one thing to win the gift; it’s another to pass it on. Jesus doesn’t waste any time. He starts that process right away – along with His Spirit to empower it.

But again, Thomas was A.W.O.L. Only days before Jesus died, Thomas was present and accounted for and did speak up. Having heard that Lazarus was sick, Jesus intended to go back to Judea where people had previously tried to stone Him to death. Thomas is reported to have said: “Let us also go with Him that we may die with him.” This comment is hard to comment on. It was either a statement of fierce loyalty to Jesus, or it came from a man with shoulders shrugged who was resigning himself to his fate. Sometimes much depends not on what you say but how you say it. For example: “Let us also die with him” (in triumphant tones) and “Let us also die with him” (resigned tones).

Thomas said very little on Easter Sunday for the simple fact that he wasn’t there. But sometime during the week that followed, his colleagues caught up to him with the news that they had seen the Lord. Thomas didn’t take this sitting down. He replied in words that need no further comment: “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.”

There you have it, my friends. You just heard the reason why he is called “doubting” Thomas. For Thomas, seeing was believing. You have to see it to believe it. If Thomas were an American, I suspect that he would be a citizen of the state of Missouri. Missouri is called the “Show Me” state. Thomas is the kind of guy who says: “Don’t just tell me, show me!” Thomas was an empiricist; he needed hard evidence. If Jesus was risen from the dead, it had to be beyond reasonable doubt. “You can tell me 24/7/365 that Jesus is risen from the dead, but until I see it for myself I have my reasons to doubt.” Doubt is such a powerful, strong mindset for Thomas – and for many of us. Faced with the world as we see it, it is no surprise that people increasingly conclude that they’re not sure what they believe in anymore. Believe in anything too strongly, and you run the risk of being labeled a closed-minded bigot.

Last week, I learned that I need to drink one hundred ounces of water per day. I was asked how much coffee I drank. “Quite a bit,” was my reply. Then, I was told I needed to drink twice as much water than coffee. This extra water would be added to the one hundred ounces I already am supposed to drink. Later on, over at the gym, I reported this news to a trainer who doubted what I had just learned. “Coffee is a diuretic,” he said; “drink as much as you want.” At the end of the day, I was left in doubt as to how much or how little liquid refreshment I was to consume during any twenty four hour period. Doubts about anyone and nearly everything bang around in my brain like a pinball nearly every day.

One of the more trustworthy websites covering the political world is realclearpolitics.com. They report it all – from the far left to the far right -- with approval ratings reports and editorials across the entire spectrum. Based on what I’ve seen, I believe that they are objective. According to their data, 67.5 percent of the American populace feels as though the country is on the “wrong track”. Stated differently, if this grouping of people were told that the country was on the right track, they would – at the very least – have serious doubts.

We’re more accustomed to doubt than faith. From Madison Avenue to Main Street, doubt is urged upon us during nearly every waking hour. “Why buy that product when you can have this one?” “More Saving, More Doing: That’s the Power of the Home Depot.” The “power” of Home Depot for me, as a result, is to inculcate further doubt. I don’t go to Home Depot to save. I go there to spend money to fix the toilet, and then I go home and put that job off until later. Thus, there is no saving and there is no doing! What I have no doubt about is the simple fact that the water bill is high on account of a leak in the commode! I’ve observed it, verified it, with my own eyes!

Thomas sought verification. If Jesus Christ had really, truly risen from the dead, that would be a game-changer. Thomas, therefore, would not base the rest of his life on second-hand information even from friends. Thomas would have appreciated language like this: “Trust, but verify. Play the game, but cut the cards.”

On the next Sunday, the first Sunday after Easter, Thomas was no longer A.W.O.L. He was present and accounted for. Again, they were behind locked doors. Once more, Jesus, not deterred by the locked door, stands among them and greets them. “Peace be with you,” He says. Then it’s time to talk to Thomas. Jesus says: “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” He didn’t bark at him. He didn’t dress him down. He didn’t condemn him for his unbelief. He didn’t suck the positive vibes out of the room with His comments. He simply showed Thomas what Thomas wanted to see and said that he could stop doubting and believe now.

What came forth from Thomas was a short yet powerful confession of faith: “My Lord and my God.” It was not Lord and God in the abstract and impersonal. It was Lord and God in the concrete and personal. Thomas took faith one step further. He claimed God as His very own: “My Lord and my God.”

Do you claim God as your very own?

Jesus concludes the conversation: “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

Lord, we believe. Help our unbelief.

Amen.