Out Loud

John 14:8-14

June 17, 2018 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Lulabel Seitz was only a few minutes into her valedictory speech at Petaluma High School in Petaluma, California, on June 2 when her microphone went silent. Seitz was listing the challenges her class had been through when she brought up a topic that she had been told by school officials not to mention: a sexual assault she says the school mishandled and covered up. When she went off the approved script, the school officials turned off her microphone in order to keep the ceremony, in their words, “appropriate and beautiful.” Seitz took her seat after a few moments, only later recording herself giving the unedited speech which she posted on YouTube. As one law professor observed, “Probably many more people have heard it now than would have ever heard it before” (https://nbcnews.to/2JCsc7L).

Now, this is not a sermon about sexual assault or free speech or first amendment rights. What struck me about the story of Lulabel Seitz, though, is how determined she was to get her message out, how insistent she was in speaking up for what she believed, even if it was unpopular. As I learned her story this past week, I couldn’t help but think about the parallels to the church. I’m a pastor; it’s what I do! As followers of Jesus Christ, we are called to be people who live our faith publicly. We’re called to be folks who are unafraid of people seeing and noticing our faith; in fact, we want others to see it. We’re people who are called to live life out loud.

This morning, we are wrapping up this series of sermons called “Reboot,” focusing on some of the distinctives of the Methodist movement. In the past few weeks, we’ve talked about holiness, relationships or community and Christian perfection or love, but this morning we want to focus on how we engage our world. What does it look like for us, as Methodist Christians, to live our faith “out loud”? You may not know this but the term “methodist” was not originally given to John Wesley’s movement as a compliment. It was, in fact, meant to be an insult. Because those first folks were “methodical” in practicing their faith, those who didn’t understand referred to them jokingly as “methodists.” John Wesley decided to take that name as a badge of honor and used it to describe the revival that came out of his preaching and teaching. Then, those who didn’t understand turned to another word to describe Wesley and his friends, that word being “enthusiast.” In eighteenth century England, that was like calling someone today a fanatic or a zealot. If someone called you an “enthusiast, it meant they thought you had gone overboard with your commitment. These Methodists were enthusiastic about Jesus. In the 1700’s, that was a terrible thing for a respectable person to be accused of. What people noticed about Wesley and these Methodists is that they didn’t just want to be religious. Instead, they wanted to know Jesus.

That was, after all, the same desire the first disciples had. The passage we read this morning is just one place in the Gospels where we see this desire evidenced. It’s the last night Jesus is spending on this earth with his disciples, and the final meal is over when we join the twelve of them in the Upper Room. Soon, they will be leaving to head toward the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus will be arrested, but for now, Jesus is attempting to offer words of hope, of comfort, of encouragement. He alone knows all that they will be going through in the next few days as he is crucified. So he speaks words that we often read at funerals: “Do not let your hearts be troubled…My Father’s house has many rooms…You know the way to the place where I am going” (14:1-4). Jesus’ words are more confusing than comforting at this point; the disciples are realizing what they don’t know. In fact, you could say they know now that they don’t know much of anything, even after being with Jesus for three years (cf. Card, John: The Gospel of Wisdom, pg. 161). So Philip, perhaps in exasperation, perhaps in hope, cuts to the bottom line for he and his friends: “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us” (14:8). All we want, Jesus, is to know God. All we want is to see our heavenly Father. Can you help us see him?

Do you think Jesus might have been a bit exasperated by Philip’s request? I do. Not because he didn’t want them to see the Father, but because for the last three years, in his words and in his deeds, he has been doing exactly that, showing them the Father, and they’re not getting it. So he tells them plainly: if you’ve seen me, if you’ve paid attention to what I’ve been up to, you’ve already seen the Father. The Father is working through me. Look at what I’ve accomplished; in the works I’ve done, you should be able to see the Father (14:9-11). And then he says something that has confused people throughout the centuries, something we need to spend a little bit of time with in order to understand what’s going on here. Jesus says, “Very truly I tell you,” [that means he’s serious] “whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father” (14:12). Even greater things—that’s the part that confuses people, because honestly, think about the things Jesus did. He healed people, he opened blind eyes, he walked on water, he even raised a couple of people from the dead. I don’t know about you, but I’m wondering what kind of “greater works” I should or could be doing as a follower of Jesus. Sometimes waking Cathy up feels like raising the dead, but it’s not really. How am I supposed to do “even greater things” when Jesus did some pretty spectacular things?

If you were to read ten commentaries on this verse, you’re going to get ten (or more) different ideas about what Jesus was saying here, so understand that I’m going to just try to give you my best understanding here, and it might not be the final word. Let’s think about what Jesus ultimately came to do. He didn’t come to heal or raise the dead; those things, he told us, were signs meant to point toward the kingdom of God. He came to bring the kingdom. His first sermon was, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matthew 4:17). He came to help men and women find their way back to God, into God’s kingdom. The ultimate work Jesus came to do was to bring salvation and hope and new life through his work on the cross. However, when Jesus was on earth, he was limited to a particular geographical location, what we know today as the nation of Israel, but when he died and rose again, that limitation was taken away. Now, he comes to live in the lives of those who follow him, those who become believers, those he has told to spread the good news around the world. Those who follow him are to carry out the “great commission,” to make disciples of all nations. And so, in the hearts and lives of believers, in the power of the Holy Spirit, the gospel spread from one location to the whole earth. The “greater things” Jesus was describing happened as he returned to the father and his disciples picked up his mission (cf. Barclay, The Gospel of John, Volume 2, pg. 165). From one location to the whole world, changed lives became the “greater work” of the church. Our calling is to do the work of changing the world; that’s the “greater thing.”

Whenever we talk about “work,” some folks get nervous. The New Testament is clear that we are saved by placing our faith in Jesus Christ, by deciding to follow him. Salvation is a gift, an act of grace, not something we can earn by doing enough good things. How much would be “enough,” anyway? However, Jesus says in this passage that there is a purpose to good works. Just as there was a purpose to the things he did, there is a purpose to the things he calls us to do. The works, Jesus says, are evidence of God the Father’s presence and work in the world. The works that are done will call others to belief. Jesus actually puts it this way, as a challenge or a call to the disciples: “Believe on the evidence of the works themselves” (14:11). Good works are not the road to salvation, but they may point someone else in that direction. Good works, Jesus says, are the things that help those outside the kingdom of God begin to see glimpses of new life, new possibilities, new hope.

So, in our Methodist tradition, Wesley talked about two types of works that give evidence to our faith: “Works of Piety” and “Works of Mercy.” Neither one of these categories, it should be said, were more important than the other. Piety and mercy together constitute the Christian life and serious followers of Jesus would regularly engage in both types of “works.” Serious followers of Jesus as those who seek to give one hundred percent of themselves to the cause of Christ; this is the “method” of Methodism (cf. Sweet, The Greatest Story Never Told, pg. 90). So let’s look at these different types of works, the ones that give evidence of God’s presence in the world, and consider how our living our faith out loud might cause others to come to know him.

What I’m calling “works of piety” are sometimes called “instituted means of grace” because they are things that Jesus specifically did or modeled. He instituted them, you might say. They are practices or disciplines that help us grow in our relationship with Jesus. Again though, as I said last week, they are personal but not private. The first one of these is prayer, or talking to God. We just did a series of sermons a few weeks ago focusing on prayer, and we all know that prayer is something we should do. Wesley called it the “chief means of grace” meaning it’s the main way we connect with God (cf. Harper, Prayer & Devotional Life of United Methodists, pg. 34). And if that’s the case—which it is—why do we neglect it? Sure, we pray when we need something. We ask others to pray when we’re really desperate. And maybe you’re better at it than I am, but I know I find myself diving right into what I need when I pray. I don’t stop to take time to thank God or just talk over the day with him. Can you imagine if every time I talked to Cathy, I just told her what I needed? “Dear Cathy, could you please give me this and that and the other thing?” What kind of a relationship would we have? Yet that’s what we do with our heavenly Father, the one with whom we’re supposed to have a close relationship with. Prayer is about building that relationship, because you can’t be connected to someone you never talk to. But we’re not just talking about private or personal prayer. There is something powerful and profound when we come together to pray. It is an historical fact that no great move of God has ever begun without a movement of prayer first. That’s why the pastors in the community gather each and every week, to break down the barriers that have existed between churches as we pray together, as together we turn to the one who made us, the one who brings us together. Or praying as a family in public, even inviting the waitress at the restaurant or the nurse in the hospital room to join you. Prayer is a powerful witness to what we believe. It’s not about “getting stuff.” It’s about building relationships, human and divine.

The second work of piety is the one we usually put first, mainly I think because we tend to be an academically-oriented culture. Learning is king. This “work” is searching the Scriptures, or Bible study. Wesley famously said he wanted to be a “man of one book,” though he read and wrote widely. But his primary calling was to learn and understand the Scriptures. Jesus quoted from the Scriptures of his day, the Old Testament, as did Paul and the other New Testament writers. We are people of the book, but Biblical illiteracy is at an all-time high. I don’t know if that’s because the Bible hasn’t been taught or we haven’t paid attention, but according to a poll by the Gallup organization, we are in big trouble. “Americans revere the Bible,” Gallup says, “but, by and large, they don’t read it.” Here are some of the frightening statistics uncovered by Gallup: Fewer than half of all adults can name the four gospels. 60 percent of Americans can’t name even five of the Ten Commandments. According to 81 percent of Christian Americans, “God helps those who help themselves” is a Bible verse (it’s not, by the way). A majority of adults think the Bible teaches that the most important purpose in life is taking care of one’s family. Over 50 percent of graduating high school seniors thought that Sodom and Gomorrah were husband and wife, and a considerable number of people think that the Sermon on the Mount was preached by Billy Graham (http://bit.ly/2JMLeLV). If we don’t know our own book, how can we hope to share the story with the world? That’s why we give you Scriptures to read each and every day, to keep us all in the Bible. If the only Bible reading you get is what I share on Sunday morning, we are in trouble.

I could preach a whole sermon on each of these, and maybe I will sometime, but I need to move on this morning or we’ll never get out of here. The third work of piety is the Lord’s Supper, or Holy Communion, something we do every month here. Communion is, of course, one of the most direct ways we connect with Jesus, because it’s something he clearly told us to do. We call it a “sacrament,” which simply means it’s something we do physically that indicates something going on inside of us—to use the theological phrase, it’s an “outward sign of an inward grace.” In that bread and cup, we somehow find the presence of Jesus and we’re reminded that he gave his body and his blood for our salvation. Communion, honestly, is a mystery, and I realize that more and more every time I try to explain it!

The fourth work of piety is fasting. Now, this is not something many of us practice very often, and there seems to be a movement within the Christian faith that uses fasting as a way to strong-arm God. There’s this idea that if I just fast, if I sacrifice food or something, then God will have to notice me and give me what I want. Or, on the other extreme, people use fasting as a health aid, a way to purge the toxins from their body, rather than as a spiritual discipline. Neither one of those extremes is the point of fasting. Going without is meant to clear out time and space in our lives to focus on listening to God, connecting with God. Jesus fasted for forty days before his official ministry began, not to convince God to give him what he wanted, but to focus his life. Fasting is doing without something that takes a lot of time out of our lives so we can spend that extra time focused on God. That “thing” might be food, or in today’s world it might be social media or our phones…or whatever is in the way of growing our friendship with God.

The fifth work of piety, then, is Christian conferencing. Whenever I think about this discipline, I hear echoes of Isaiah 1:18 where the prophet says, “Come now, let us settle the matter.” Other translations give more flavor to that verse. The NRSV translates it this way: “Come now, let us argue it out” and the KJV says, “Come now, and let us reason together.” The idea of Christian conferencing is that together we are better, as Pastor Rick reminded us a couple of weeks ago. Together, we can figure things out better than any one of us can on our own. So we come together, we rely on our brothers and sisters to gain wisdom and get guidance for life. Christian conferencing is the heart of small groups, which was the genius of the early Methodist movement. And what I like about those different translations is that in Christian conferencing, sometimes we reason together, and sometimes we argue it out, and hopefully in the end, we have settled the matter, or at least come to a place where we can live together peacefully. For instance, in a congregation this size, it’s unlikely that we will agree on absolutely everything. We’re bound to have different political views, perhaps some varying theological views, different ideas about parenting and music choice and who should win the World Series. Some things are more important than others, obviously, so we come together, we conference, and we may even agree to disagree on the less important matters. Wesley said there were things that were at the core of our faith as Christians, and on those things we don’t compromise. But as for other things, we “think and let think.” To paraphrase one of Wesley’s sermons, if you love God and humankind, give me your hand. When we think about this work, though, we need to be reflecting on how we are viewed by the world outside the church. When Christians fuss and fight, the world points to us and says, “See, their faith doesn’t do anything for them!” Can we find ways to disagree that honor Christ, that builds up the church and furthers the cause of God’s kingdom? Christian conferencing calls us to listen, really listen, to each other, and to seek peace.

Those are the works of piety; you’ll be glad to know the works of mercy list is not as long! Actually, the works of mercy have been summed up more recently as “three simple rules,” and I have preached a sermon series on them here before. The first, you may remember, is “do no harm.” Of course, we hear echoes in that of the ancient Hippocratic oath that those in the medical profession still adhere to. It’s a rule or guideline of compassion, to be sure that what we do does not harm someone else. Wesley’s original words were actually these: “Carefully to abstain from doing evil.” Some of his examples of evils we should not do were certainly bound to his time and culture, but others can still challenge us, like this one: “Not to mention the fault of any behind his back, and to stop short those who do.” Or “to be at a word both in buying and selling,” in other words, to keep our word, to be as good as our word. Do no harm.

Closely related to that is the second rule or “work of mercy,” which is to “do good.” In Wesley’s words, “Zealously to maintain good works.” It’s not enough to just refrain from harming someone else; we’re also called to actively do good things, to make a positive difference in the world. That’s the essence of the quote we’ve had hanging up here during this series—let’s read it together, shall we? “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” Now, I’m paraphrasing Wesley’s three examples under the rule of “do good,” but all of them, I think, are still relevant today. First, he says, doing good means giving of what you have to help those in need, and as much as you are able. What does our giving say about our commitment to doing good? Second, to lovingly point out sin in someone’s life, and help them overcome it. I don’t think he’d approve of the way we often do that through social media; doing something like that lovingly requires a face-to-face, honest and open relationship, not just “calling someone out” online. And third, to show evidence of frugality and self-denial. We don’t need everything we have and there are many others who don’t have everything they need. Doing good calls us to work for balance. Do no harm. Do good.

And finally, “to attend on all the ordinances of God,” or as Bishop Rueben Job has paraphrased it, to “stay in love with God.” This work of mercy really takes us back to the works of piety, for Wesley indicated the sorts of things we should do are these: attend worship and receive communion, read the Scriptures, pray, and fast (cf. Jackson ed., The Works of John Wesley, vol. viii, pgs. 273-274). So it’s a circle. As we grow in our faith, we are sent out into the world to give evidence of our faith. And others will see and come to believe. What the world longs for more than anything else is authentic faith, faith in God that truly makes a difference in the way we live. Even in Wesley’s day, that was true. He described it this way: “Give me one hundred preachers who fear nothing but sin, and desire nothing but God, and I care not a straw whether they be clergyman or laymen; such alone will shake the gates of hell and set up the kingdom of heaven on Earth” (qtd. in Sweet 117). That’s living life out loud, and when we do that, when we set our hearts first and foremost on God, we will do "greater things” as this faith spreads to the ends of the earth. Will we live like that? Will we live life out loud?

I mentioned when we began this series that Methodism was never meant to be a church, that we were originally a movement of renewal within the larger church. Wesley himself, though ordained as a priest in the Church of England, was never appointed to a parish church. Instead, he was initially a teacher at Lincoln College in Oxford University, and later he became a missionary to America. Upon his return to England and after his “warm-hearted” experience, he began to preach in various churches and was repeatedly asked not to return to those pulpits. His preaching was far too radical for the time. At that point, in the midst of a culture where you simply didn’t preach within someone else’s parish without their permission, Wesley declared that he looked upon all the world as his parish (cf. Jackson ed., Works, vol. i, pg. 201), and he began to preach and teach and share Jesus wherever anyone would listen. And that’s the model for us. The world truly is our parish; we’re called to share Jesus wherever we can, whenever we can. And when we do that, when we live out loud and share Jesus around the world, we will be doing those greater things.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this week is Vacation Bible School here at Mount Pleasant. Some of you know this, but I gave my life to Jesus at Vacation Bible School many years ago. I grew up in church; we were in church most every time the doors were opened. But in that little classroom during the final day of VBS, something clicked in my heart and my mind, something that helped me realize how I’d been relying on my parent’s faith to get me through. I realized I needed to have faith of my own, to put my trust in Jesus for myself. And so I did: there in the basement of the Brethren Church in Rossville, I asked Jesus to come into my life. And because of that moment, I’ve always been a huge proponent of Vacation Bible School and the difference this week can make in the lives of so many children. This week, we have over 100 volunteers who are turning out to serve in various capacities from snacks to games to crafts to helping the kids process the Bible stories to music to sound and on and on. We’ve had many of you here this past week decorating, and it looks great! I’m not sure how many all together are involved in VBS, but my hope and prayer is that everyone will be involved in some way, because this is a huge opportunity we have to share the love of Jesus, to do those greater things, to live our faith out loud. If you can’t be here, you can support the VBS by bringing in the food and supplies and such that are needed. And if you can’t do that, or if all the spots are filled (thank God), then you can pray. Take some time each day this week and pray for those involved in VBS. If you can, come join me some day this week as I’m going to be walking through this space every day and praying for the children who will fill it each evening. I think about the children who will be here and what might become of their lives, how they might impact our world—and what if they came to know Jesus right here, in this space? In this group might be future teachers and doctors and lawyers and pastors and homemakers and office workers and accountants and CEOs and who knows what else—and we are given the chance this week to live out loud, to show them Jesus, to make a real difference in their lives. That’s what this week is about. It’s about doing greater things, and I pray you will join me in those greater things this week. If you will, in some way, would you say, “Amen”? Let’s make a difference this week for the sake of Jesus Christ, because Terre Haute, Vigo County, Indiana and the world—that is our parish. Let’s pray.