One Particular Harbor

Text:  Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Theme:  "One Particular Harbor"

8th Sunday after Pentecost

July 22, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

³⁰ The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. ³¹ Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

³² So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. ³³ But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. ³⁴ When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.

⁵³ When they had crossed over, they landed at Gennesaret and anchored there. ⁵⁴ As soon as they got out of the boat, people recognized Jesus. ⁵⁵ They ran throughout that whole region and carried the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. ⁵⁶ And wherever he went—into villages, towns or countryside—they placed the sick in the marketplaces. They begged him to let them touch even the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed.

It says that the "apostles gathered around Jesus... ."  It must have been like a cabinet meeting.  On this occasion, Jesus isn't doing the talking, but the apostles are and they give Jesus a first-hand report of all they had done and taught. The word "apostle" means "one who is sent."  The One doing the sending was Jesus. 

They weren't out advertising or marketing or taking a poll.  They were sent with an invitation for people to repent -- that is, to change their mind, to take a different tack, put themselves on a new trajectory, and to go in a completely different direction with their lives.  The old, familiar direction of self-righteousness and self-fulfillment had reached, as it always does, a dead-end.  Just going through the motions of religion only served to cement the status quo.  Thus, minds were closed -- and closed-minded people are powerfully resistant to change, to repentance.  Changed minds or not, people did get sick -- and the apostles were equipped with Jesus-power to bring healing.  Thus, the message of repentance was backed up with gifts of love.



Still, Jesus knew that not everyone would welcome His invitation to repent.  He said, "If any place will not welcome you or listen to you, shake the dust off your feet when you leave."   It seems that some folks had what we today might call the "Stockholm Syndrome."  That is, victims become friends with their captors.  They are so used to being trapped that they just roll with it, accept it, surrender to it.  I read this week about the Hostage Barricade Data system of the FBI.  27% of those captured against their will come to sympathize with if not support their captors.  They just give up and give in. 

The invitation to repent was radical;  it sought to "flip" people, to burst them out of the self-centered bubble they had become all-too familiar with.  Freedom, true freedom of the kind that Jesus brought, begins with a changed mind and not an act of congress or an executive order.

Thus, the apostles had a sit-down with Jesus and they gave their report.  After the briefing, they didn't shuffle off into break-out sessions where they could further discuss what to do next or how to make their message more palatable to current tastes.  I've seen churches do that, and then -- later on -- you discover that nothing comes of it.  Christians can be long on ideas and short on implementation. Other Christians can be short on ideas and long on implementation -- in other words, we keep doing the same things over and over again expecting a different result. That, according to some, is the definition of insanity.  Another definition of insanity is doing the right thing and then stopping.   Perhaps we need to do something else.  Perhaps we need to do nothing at all.  But what does Jesus say?

Jesus says:  "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest." 

For a lot of folks around here, that sounds pretty doggone good.  Y'all have worked pretty hard of late.  You've supported and participated in a magnificent Vacation Bible  School -- and we got our own briefing on that just a few minutes ago. In addition, you've gone all out for the sake of the Denton Christian Preschool with the garage sale. You've earned some rest; you've earned some Sabbath time.  Prompted by the love of God, you did some hard work -- and some of it amid the soaring heat and humidity.  Remember that Christ the Lord was human just as we are human, and humans get tired.  Jesus knew this.  He and His apostles worked hard, but they were not workaholics.  They enjoyed some down time.  Sometimes we, who know a thing or two about the Protestant work ethic, forget that.

Where do you go for some downtime?  Where is your quiet place where you can get some rest?  Where is your place -- and actual, physical place -- that you go to be alone and/or to meditate upon the Word of God and to pray?  I'm not asking you to tell anybody about it; I am asking you to think about it. 

Did they take Jesus up on His invitation?  Yes, indeed, they did!  Our text says that "They went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place." 

A little over a half mile west of Capernaum on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee, there's a little cove that is called "The Sower's Cove."  There are pictures of it that you can pull up on Google.  Some think that this cove, this tiny little harbor if you will, is where Jesus preached to the crowds while sitting on a boat.  I wonder if this little cove is where Jesus went with the disciples to get some rest.  It all calls to mind the soothing words penned by Jimmy Buffett:

There's this one particular harbour
So far but yet so near
Where I see the days as they fade away
And finally disappear

There's that one particular harbour
Sheltered from the wind
Where the children play on the shore each day
And all are safe within

A most mysterious calling harbour
So far but yet so near
I can see the day when my hair's full gray
And I finally disappear

Better than Buffett are the words of Ralph Carmichael sung, today, so magnificently by Beverly Hoch:

There is a quiet place, far from the rapid pace,

Where God can soothe my troubled mind.

Sheltered by tree and flow'r, there in my quiet hour with Him,

my cares are left behind.

Whether a garden small, or on a mountain tall,

New strength and courage there I find.

Then from this quiet place I go prepared to face a new day,

With love for all mankind.

New days will come soon enough.  They did for Jesus and the apostles; they will for us.  Some new days will begin on your back porch with a cup of coffee.  It is not yet 100 degrees outside.  In fact, it's comfortable.  The birds are chirping; there is dew on the grass.  But then you open your iPad, and the first drop-down item is breaking news of a shooting in a movie theatre.  Later reports detail how the gunman booby-trapped his apartment.  There are those, today, facing a new day and having to plan for funerals.  Flags are at half-mast.

Even Jesus could not stay in safe harbor for too long.  All too quickly, a new day arrived and the quietness and rest would give way to greater crowds of people moving in on him.  Jesus would not escape them. He took his rest and enjoyed it, but he wasn't an escapist.   Rather, it says He had compassion on them.  There is a depth of theology in the Greek word for compassion that is almost impossible to explain.  The feeling was so strong it was as if His insides were being torn.  He saw them as sheep without a shepherd.  Then He was at it again; we are told He began to teach them many things.

There are sheep without a shepherd today.  And some can no longer stand the strain.  A closed mind snaps, and survivors are left with pain, suffering, and grief that is unimaginable.  Jesus, the One who would open our minds, suffered too.  On the cross, He suffered once -- the just for the unjust -- to bring us to God.  And we, too, take up our cross daily and follow Him--not around suffering but through it. 

Finally, since He is risen from the grave and lives and reigns to all eternity, we know what remains at the end:  There remains, says the writer to the Hebrews, a Sabbath rest for the people of God.  There's that one particular harbor, sheltered from the wind, where the children play on the shore each day and all is safe within -- forever and ever.  Amen.

ALONG THE FLAG ROUTE

"Drafted" into the local Rotary Club, I quickly moved up the ranks by no choice of my own.  You arrive at a meeting; you're told you are now the flag "Captain" for the Montecito neighborhood in Denton.  I didn't ask for the promotion; I didn't want it; I was simply told of my elevated status. 

Not much relieved by offers help proffered by Rotary's "honorably retired generals" (who knew the route), I took to the task grudgingly.  When flag day arrived, I, with grumpy mood in tow, sat my butt down on the back flap of the pick-up truck seated next to 55 American flags. 

The distribution of flags along the route, like American patriotism itself, was spotty.  (Some buy a flag for Rotary to set up on federal holidays; others do not.)  Then there were the actual yellow spots that marked the sidewalk.  Twelve inches back from the spot, buried into the lawn, is the sleeve.  Old glory is unfurled, and the pole goes into the sleeve.  Simple.  Well, it's not that simple if the customer has St. Augustine grass. The gnarly stuff grows over the sleeve, and you get your fingernails dirty trying to locate it.  (At least I have hands to search. Some American veterans do not have hands -- or legs, for that matter).

It's 9 o'clock in the morning.  The sun is out; there is a tinge of breeze, and the sounds of birds and sprinkler systems fill the air.  In Montecito, you get the feel of "old school", "quiet" wealth.  Lawns and landscapes are manicured, in many instances, to perfection. The lots are expansive and the architectural themes vary.  It is a visual celebration of the Protestant work ethic and the Calvinistic cultural milieu (think:  ordered beauty) from which the "self-evident' truths, articulated in our founding documents, sprang.  It is quintessentially American.

Inbetween flag postings, one is left to ponder many things in the bed of a pick-up.  I thought about how, at one stop, I was about to set the flag down on the ground.  Something in my brain, a lesson of yesteryear, kicked in.  "Whoa. Don't set it down," I said to myself.  It's easy to profess respect for the flag and to the republic for which it stands, but it's an act of the will to practice it.

At another stop, a visitor from San Diego complimented us on our task.  "What brings you to our great state?" asks our honorably retired general.  "My brother died," she replied.  "He served in the military for thirty years, and he would have loved what you're doing."  She choked up a bit.  "My husband and I both served, and my son, a reservist, is on his third tour in Afghanistan."

This shall suffice, but I could write more.  This is enough, for I no longer serve as Flag Captain grudgingly.  The adverbs of choice now are gratefully and willingly.

Text:  Luke 22:31-32

Theme:  "Finishing Well"

The Memorial Service for Gwen Lam

June 29, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

“Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

To you, dear friends of Gwen from near and far; to you, members of the Good Samaritan community just up the road; to the participants in the Bible Study Fellowship that Gwen so greatly enjoyed; to you, the members of First Presbyterian Church, blessed by Gwen's life and she blessed in turn by your lives; to you, the dear family, and especially to you, our beloved Norma:  Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from the risen Lord Jesus Christ!

Today is Friday, and that is not insignificant.  Every Friday is an anniversary of when Jesus Christ gave Himself willingly, on a cross, for the sins of all people.  Over thirty years ago in the largest university chapel in the world (The Chapel of the Resurrection at Valparaiso University in Indiana), the speaker stood up on Good Friday and addressed the assembled worshippers as follows:  "It's Friday, but Sunday's coming."  It's Friday; the powers of evil and death and hell can do their worst, but Sunday's coming. 

Sunday did come!  The One who was put to death for our sins was raised again for our justification.  That means that the power of evil and death and hell to ultimately undo us was -- to borrow a phrase -- "rendered unconstitutional."  There is life to be lived in the risen Christ; it is to be lived with all the zest, zip, tang, vim and vigor that God gives you.

If anyone understood this, if anyone got it into gear and embraced this life to the hilt, it was -- and is! -- Gwen Lam.  That life started in West Texas over 90 years ago -- Tahoka, Texas, to be exact.  It headed over to Lubbock and Texas Tech.  That life was spotted in surgical suites in Denver, Colorado.  That life wore our country's uniform, and it helped get Gwen into journalism and the art of educating  people.  It took her to Iowa and Chicago and then to the big apple, New York City, the locus of her professional career.

But her professional career, while vast and varied, was not the first order of business.  The first order of business was -- and now all the more gloriously is! -- Jesus Christ and His love for her.  And all of it produced, in this dynamo of a human being, faith in God put into practice with love.  Faith was her engine and love was where the rubber hit the road!

I first met this wonderful child of God we celebrate today nearly two years ago.  She had a bit of a scratchy voice that day and it was difficult for her to speak, so one of our members here at First Presbyterian started to list off some of her accomplishments in life. Gwen looked at me and she was quietly chuckling.  She smiled, sort of shrugged her shoulders, and she rolled her eyes as if to say, "I did all that?"  Of course, she did all that.  But she carried all that accomplishment with gracious modesty.  In a world of tireless self-promotion, this is a huge lesson we all can continue to learn from this woman.  We are the salt of the earth, not the chili pepper.  We are the light of the world, not the neon sign.

Earlier this week, I spoke with Gwen's sister Norma and nephew Dave about the content and shape of this service.  Almost immediately, they said:  "Talk about finishing well."  In 1965, the musical lyricists Jimmy Van Heusen and J. Cahn penned these words:

One day you turn around and it's summer
Next day you turn around and it's fall
And the springs and the winters of a lifetime
Whatever happened to them all?

There is a certain wistfulness to these words.  There is a whiff of nostalgia and a tinge of regret.  As people get older, as they we move to the October, the November, and the December of their lives, as the finish line of life is a growing speck on the horizon, people can daydream about the past and wonder where the time went.  "And the springs and the winters of a lifetime...whatever happened to them all?"

Not long ago, Gwen spent a few days in the rehabilitation section of Good Sam up the road here.   The charge nurse gave me her room number.  She wasn't in her room.  Not to be deterred, I tracked her down and found her in a larger therapy room.  She didn't see me at first.  She sat alone in a chair waiting for her therapist; she was alone with her own thoughts.  What I saw gave me pause.  She may have been wistful and nostalgic; she may have wondered what happened to the springs and summers of her lifetime, where the time all went, and so forth. 

But I don't think that was it.  There was a radiance to her that day that emerged from her aging and frail body.  Yes, in her own words, it was the look of a teenager stuck in an old person's body.  I'm convinced she was at prayer.

With the exception of the passage from Romans chapter twelve that you heard ( which was suggested by our friend and brother Robert Jones), all of the Scriptures you heard today were chosen by Gwen.  She chose them not for this day which is a Friday.  Rather, she chose them for Monday.  She selected them for her book of devotions which was published in 1996 by Broadman and Holman Publishers.  The title is Meditations for Monday. 

Our first Scripture today was from the prophet Isaiah.  A verse stands out:  "He awakens me morning by morning, He awakens my ear to hear as the learned."

Picking up on this verse:  Gwen wrote:

            Many retired people say they appreciate the opportunity to "sleep in" after           years of getting up early to take care of family and job requirements.  Others say their internal alarm clocks are set, and they continue to arise          early even though nothing compels them to do so.  I belong to the latter             group.

                        "You get up at six o'clock!" exclaimed a friend.  "What do you do      with all that time?"

                        "Three things," I said.  "I read the Bible, I pray, and I write in my       journal."

Finishing well means putting first things first at the first part of every new day:  you meditate on God's Word, you pray based on that word, and you reflect on it.

Finishing wells also entails believing, come what may, that God is in charge.  Earlier, we heard Psalm 46.  Gwen, in one of her meditations, called it "The Noisy Psalm" for good reason; for it is filled, as she wrote, with upheavals, roaring waters, shaking mountains, raging nations, and burning chariots.  "Immersing yourself in this powerful psalm," said Gwen, will calm fears and ease weariness, loneliness, helplessness, and sorrow.  Called the 'song of confidence,' it captures the essence of faith without ever using the word."  Want to finish well?  Get cozy and comfy with Psalm 46!

Just a couple of days ago, Robert Jones described Gwen as a "Romans 12" kind of woman.  Moments ago, we heard the entire chapter.  It's all about using the gifts God gives you -- about being a living sacrifice. 

Finishing well means that, no matter what our condition may be, we have work to do.  Someone might say, "Well, it's pretty hard to be a living sacrifice and to serve God" if you're consigned to a room all alone in an assisted living facility.  The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak; we just can't do it anymore."  Gwen would have us reframe our thinking about that. She wasn't given to counsels of despair.  There were apricots to be made into preserves, chocolate to be converted in delicious brownies (did someone find the recipe?), bread to be baked.  Our life remains a living sacrifice.  It remains a gift to others.  Even in the December of life, even when you can no longer bake the bread or brownies,  life is a gift in the form of an opportunity -- the opportunity for others to visit, to laugh, to pray, to sing,  to quell the loneliness, to share life, and to learn from the lives of those, like Gwen,  who see the finish line coming, who are on the home stretch of their earthly sojourn.

Finally, we arrive at the Holy Gospel reading for today:  Luke 22:31-32.  On the night before Jesus died and shortly before He was arrested, one of his followers, Simon Peter, spoke to our Lord with sincerity and confidence:  "Lord, I shall follow you to prison and to death."  Sincerity and confidence in the self, so sought after in our world, never much impressed Jesus.  In fact, He essentially told Simon what it was worth (not very much).  He said:  "Before the cock crows, you will deny me three times." 

Later that night, as the cock crowed, Simon Peter cried.  Perhaps he remembered what Jesus first said:  "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat.  But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail.  And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers." 

On this Scriptural reference, Gwen told a little story. It wasn't about her, it was about her brother, Dr.Conrad Lam, and a Polish man, a heart patient, by the name of George. 

As it goes, George was deathly ill.  Dr. Lam was about to perform risky surgery to try and save his life.  Before the operation,  George's mother whispered into George's ear in the polish native tongue.  George, the patient, said to Gwen's brother, Dr. Lam:  "My mother wants you to know she will go to the church at 6:00 am and pray until noon." 

The operation the next day started off smoothly.  Dr.Lam was encouraged.  But then things took a turn for the worse.  There was too much damage to the heart.  With further effort, George would die.  So he ordered the surgical team to suture the wounds and close the chest.  But then, as Gwen relates, he glanced at the clock.  It was 10:30.  "A vision of the Polish mother praying at the church filled his mind.  She had now been praying four and a half hours.  'Well,I'll just have to tell her that because of the calcium on George's valve, her prayers were futile,' he said to himself.  Then suddenly he asked a nurse for fresh gown and gloves.  He quickly scrubbed up and resumed his place among the astonished surgical team.  'We're going to try again,' he said.  Astonishingly, it worked.

Sometime later, in the post-op, unit the George's mother held her son's hand.  Again, she gave him a message to translate:  "She wants to thank you for saving my life."

Finishing well is knowing that Christ, the Son of the living God, like that old Polish mother, is praying for you, and that your restoration is on the way.  "It's Friday, but Sunday's comin'"

Even in her passing, Gwen has taught us a lifetime of lessons -- many of which are about finishing well, as she did.  That crown of righteousness, which shall never tarnish or fade, is now hers.  "Well done, thou good and faithful servant," exclaims her Lord.  Amid the tears of our sorrow that say to Gwen "See you no more" are also, intermingled, those tears of joy that say to Gwen "See you!"

Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift in Jesus Christ.  And Gwen Lam, may choirs of angels greet you on the far side of Jordan with the same magnificent grace and beauty that you extended to us all.

May the peace of God passing all human understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus to life everlasting.  Amen.

Text:  Mark 5:21-43

Theme:  "Do Not Fear, Only Believe"

5th Sunday after Pentecost

July 1, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

²¹ When Jesus had again crossed over by boat to the other side of the lake, a large crowd gathered around him while he was by the lake. ²² Then one of the synagogue leaders, named Jairus, came, and when he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet. ²³ He pleaded earnestly with him, “My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.” ²⁴ So Jesus went with him.

A large crowd followed and pressed around him. ²⁵ And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. ²⁶ She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. ²⁷ When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, ²⁸ because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” ²⁹ Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.

³⁰ At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?”

³¹ “You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ”

³² But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. ³³ Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. ³⁴ He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

³⁵ While Jesus was still speaking, some people came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue leader. “Your daughter is dead,” they said. “Why bother the teacher anymore?”

³⁶ Overhearing^[c] what they said, Jesus told him, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

³⁷ He did not let anyone follow him except Peter, James and John the brother of James. ³⁸ When they came to the home of the synagogue leader, Jesus saw a commotion, with people crying and wailing loudly. ³⁹ He went in and said to them, “Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep.” ⁴⁰ But they laughed at him.

After he put them all out, he took the child’s father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. ⁴¹ He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum!” (which means “Little girl, I say to you, get up!”). ⁴² Immediately the girl stood up and began to walk around (she was twelve years old). At this they were completely astonished. ⁴³ He gave strict orders not to let anyone know about this, and told them to give her something to eat.

Summer church attendance is usually down, and that never really has bothered me that much.  People are out of town; they're on vacation.  They're getting themselves "out there," as the Carnival Cruise line advertisement suggests.

Some people like to hang out at the lake.  Boating and camping will be big this weekend here in North Texas.  Do bring along plenty of ice and sunscreen.   Actually, hanging out by the lake is a very Jesus-like thing to do.  He enjoyed being around the water a lot.  There He is at the Jordan River.  He called His first disciples, presumably, there on the beach.  Then we spot Him  boating with them on the Sea of Galilee on one of any number of occasions.  After He rose from the grave He hosted a fish fry down there by the water's edge.   Jesus would fit right in with a good, old-fashioned, all-American 4th of July observance -- swimming, fishing, conversing, picnicking, hot dogging, hamburger-ing, homemade ice cream-ing, and conversing with good people.  Pass me the potato salad and the pickle relish.   He might even do 360s on a jet ski or fire off a Roman candle or two.

The trouble for Jesus --  whether on land or sea, week day or holiday -- was the crowds.  He had what we might call a rabid fan base.  They were like the modern paparazzi.   They would  track him down like mosquitoes on a warm, humid, summer night. But the analogy fails.  They were not mosquitoes to be swatted away; they were human beings -- just like Him.

Our text introduces us to one of the faces in the crowd.  It belongs to a man named Jairus; he is a synagogue ruler.  That meant, first, that he had a very public line of work.  People knew who he was.  Second, he was a man that had religious and spiritual beliefs and sensibilities.  Third, he was a ruler, and as such he had a certain measure of control. 

We spot some things in common with Jairus.  Like him, we, too, have our religious and spiritual beliefs and sensibilities.  As far as control is concerned, we like to think we have some of it.  What we're given to control, we endeavor to control. 

But then, as is often the case, something in life happens that upsets the apple cart, that challenges our sensibilities and beliefs.  Something occurs that is beyond our control.  When that happens, we  buck it up and assume an attitude of stoic resignation, or we go into full meltdown mode, or we swallow our pride and hitch up our bootstraps and go out there and see if we can get some help.  This is what Jairus did.  He seeks the help of Jesus.  "My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live."

Not everyone will be at Ray Roberts or Lake Lewisville this week.  Some will be at the 6th, 11th, or 12th floor of Children's Medical Center in Dallas where, like Jairus's daughter, children are dying.  And parents, I assure you, will not be arguing about the fine points of the U.S. healthcare delivery system, about  BlueCross/BlueShield or Obamacare.  They just want their child to live. 

Our text says that Jesus went with Jairus.  Jesus the doctor, Jesus the emergency medical technician goes with Jairus to the little ICU (Intensive Care Unit) set up at Jairus's house.

But -- doggone it! -- the crowds would not let him be.  They swarmed around Him again, and among them was as woman who had a pre-existing condition.  She was hemorrhaging to death; she was in constant pain.  Trips to her doctor, to specialists, to the Mayo Clinic, and M.D. Anderson did not help -- do you get the idea?  Who picked up the tab for her medical bills was not her concern -- do you get the idea?  "If I get close enough to just touch him," she thought.  And that's what she did.  And in that touch alone, Jesus did for her what what no doctor, no politician, no insurance adjuster was able to do.  She was healed. 

Yet, time is of the essence.  What of Jairus's daughter?  If Jesus is detained by another hemorrhaging woman or another poor soul in need of help, time will run out for the little girl.  Jesus won't get there in time.  She will die. 

On Wednesday, we will celebrate the 236th anniversary of American independence.  While I take second place to none in being proud of America and the truths we Americans take to be self-evident, I cannot help but acknowledge that there are storm clouds on the horizon.  For example, our nation -- just in terms of dollars and cents -- is so far into debt that a generation yet unborn is going to be saddled with the bill.  But set aside the debt.  RealClearPolitics.com averages out the main polling agencies, and, consistently, close to 2/3rds of our fellow citizens believe that our country is on the wrong track -- and it makes no difference whether you lead the cheers for Obama or get on the Romney bandwagon.  The issues that push this nation to a day of reckoning transcend political affiliation. 

Aaron Sorkin is a Hollywood producer that has given us a new HBO series called "The Newsroom".  On the pilot episode, the main character Will McAvoy -- a cable news anchorman that appears to be a cross between Tom Brokaw and Chris Matthews -- is sitting on a stage between a conservative, on his left, and a liberal, on his right, that are arguing back and forth.  McAvoy appears to be disassociating from it all.  The moderator awakens him from his daydreaming and asks:  "Do you think America is the greatest country in the world?"

He doesn't want to answer the question.  He scans the audience.  He thinks he sees an old girlfriend, a television producer, that is out there in the crowd, but he is not sure.  The girl holds up a sign that gives him, the anchorman, the answer to whether America is the greatest country.  It says, "It's not."  Moments later, she hoists a second sign:  "...but it can be."

Many Americans, if they actually take a few moments to think about their beloved country this 4th of July, may well conclude that this nation is like Jairus's daughter.  It is not well; it is on life support; it is, in fact, dying.  And the help that we so desperately need is detained -- as Jesus was detained from getting to Jairus's daughter before she died. 


Jairus's daughter, in fact, did die.  Members of his household came up to Jairus with the shattering news.  It was too late.  It was all over.  We don't need help anymore.  We're beyond help.  We're at the end. 

Before Jairus could even scream out his sorrow, Jesus spoke.  He butted in before Jairus could say a word.   He spoke not to the crowd.  He spoke just to Jairus.  He said: "  Don't be afraid, just believe." 

A short time later, that little girl was up and walking around and taking in nourishment.  "Do not be afraid, just believe."

There are many out there who would encourage us to not be afraid and to just believe.  They say as much in their blogs, in their opinion pieces, in their letters to the editor, in their Facebook posts.

But in our text, it's not a blog, an opinion piece, or a letter to the editor, or a Facebook post that says it.  It comes from the mouth of Jesus -- and that makes all the difference in the world.

So this is the message, the takeaway, from this pulpit to you and to America here on the cusp of another 4th of July:  "Do not be afraid, just believe."

Amen.