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- 03/07/2010 - Compassionate Wisdom
- 02/28/2010 - Lenten Lessons on Loving: A Good Word
- 02/21/2010 - Lenten Lessons On Loving: Simple Service
- 02/14/2010 - Love Through a Guy's Eyes
- 02/07/2010 - Who'll Get the Trophy
- 01/31/2010 - Reflection of a Church Directory
- 01/24/2010 - Asking the Right Question
- 01/17/2010 - Sermon by Gene Maggard
- 01/10/2010 - Sermon by Kurt Schuermann
- 01/03/2010 - Sermon by Mark Sheets
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What It Really Means to “Live By the Spirit”
May 31, 2009 [Pentecost] Wind can be a wicked thing. Ever been caught in a storm on the water? It’s bad enough on land…but on the water, there’s nothing solid you can put your feet on. Listen to this description of a storm, recorded in the Bible.
Ever felt that way? Ever felt that you were being hammered by the “storms of life,” and there was nothing you could do about it? There was no solid ground you could put your feet on, at least just to rest for a moment? Those storms can blow in at a moment’s notice—not even Doppler radar can help you predict when they’re coming. You get that phone call that sends chills up your spine and buckles your knees. You enter the boss’ office, and leave with a pink slip and two weeks’ severance. You receive the phone call from the doctor’s office, saying that the doctor needs to see you, now that the test results are in. You stand by the casket, wondering how in the world you can go on with life. Yes, storms blow in without warning, and no one can tell us how long they’ll last, or what damage they’ll do. You know what happens when the wind blows in on me? I grab…the life jacket. I tread water with the buoyancy of a rock. I’m going to hold on for dear life. I’m going to hold on to the assumptions and attitudes upon which I’ve built my life—whatever those assumptions and attitudes are. Some may be good and life affirming, some may not. I’m going to hold on to habits that have given me comfort in the past—some may be good, some not. I’m going to latch onto the friends and acquaintances I’ve known—some may be good, some not. And you know what? The harder I squeeze the familiar—the more likely I am to drown. Ask any lifeguard, and they’ll tell you: the most difficult person to save who’s drowning is the person trying to save himself/herself—the person resisting a stranger’s help. No. If you’re a Christian, then there’s only one way to survive a storm of life: YOU FACE THE STORM’S RAGE, TRUSTING THAT SOMEONE MORE POWERFUL THAN YOURSELF CAN SUBDUE IT. That, in a way, is the story of Pentecost. Listen. When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2 And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3 Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability…
Hear what happened? Here is Peter, facing a group of strangers, with the powerful religious leaders and politicians all around. He’s uncertain about the future, not knowing what’s going to happen next. He has no game plan, nor any contingency plan. He has no money in the bank. He has no book of standard operating procedures for the future—because the future is absolutely unknown to him. As far as he knows, he might not make it through the day. And in this vulnerable, nervous setting—with his heart beating and his mind racing—IT HAPPENS. Peter gets touched by a wind stronger than a storm’s wind—a wind stronger than his fears. This “violent” wind doesn’t destroy. This wind empowers, strengthens. Peter, suddenly, is no longer an ignorant fisherman, who defers to the educated religious leaders. He’s no longer the scared man who denied Jesus by the firelight. No. He’s now changed. He’s not intimidated by the high priests, and he’s not scared by the police. He stands up and preaches with power, with authority, and doesn’t care what happens to him. Wow! Make no mistake about it. To you who trust in Jesus. To you who, by faith, are brave enough to leave the security of the past behind: to you, Jesus sends the Holy Spirit. Guaranteed. Period. “I will not abandon you,” Jesus once said. “I will send the Spirit to you.” WE just have to be open to receive the Spirit. WE have to give up clinging blindly to what worked in the past, so we can receive the power to move into the future. Of course, this isn’t easy. Many a life has been shipwrecked by clinging to what worked in the past. Many a church has floundered because they lived by the phrase, “We’ve never done it that way before.” So, let me share with you a couple of ways to open up to the freshness of the Holy Spirit.. These ways come from the rest of the stormy passage you heard at the beginning of this sermon. Paul is a passenger on this boat. Luke, his traveling companion, records what took place.
And with that, they made it safely to shore. There are two remarkable things in this passage. Paul said that at night, in the darkest time of the storm, an “angel” appeared to him, given him instruction and direction. You want to be open to the Holy Spirit? Then, in the darkest night of your storm… 1—LOOK FOR ANGELS. Angels, by definition, are not anyone you’d recognize. You don’t know angels. You don’t say, “I’d like to introduce you to Bob—he’s an angel, you know.” Angels, rather, are special strangers, who have a message you need to hear. God sends angels when you are in the midst of your storm—when the waves are crashing over the side of your boat. The trick is, to look for them. A pastor was on a spiritual pilgrimage, and he stayed a few days in a remote monastery. He was astonished at how well the monks treated him. They served him a fine meal, showed him to a comfortable room, brought him freshly cut flowers. They treated him as if he were the most important guest they had received since the monastery was founded in the 12th century. When he met the abbot, the leader of the monastery, he said, “Wow! You really know how to treat a visitor here.” The abbot replied, “We always treat guests as though they were angels — just to be safe.” If you only treat the people you know as angels, you’ll be missing out on a lot. Be open to angels appearing in people you wouldn’t suspect. The bank teller. The person who pours your coffee. The homeless man begging on the corner. The grumpy teacher you can’t get along with. The refrigerator repair person. Be open to them. Talk with them. At the very least, you’re “playing it safe.” And who knows? You might just hear what Paul’s angel told him—“Do not be afraid!” The second thing to do, to be open to the Holy Spirit blowing into your life: 2—LOOK FOR A ROLE MODEL. The sailors were comforted, not as much by Paul’s words as by Paul’s example. Remember how the passage ended? With the boat rocking and the wind blowing, Paul says, “Let’s have a picnic!” And he ordered Giordano’s Chicago style pizza, along with chocolate cake with fudge icing, and they all had a feast. Perhaps that’s bit of a paraphrase, but you get the picture. In the midst of death and destruction all around, Paul invites them to do a life-affirming thing. Eat, drink, talk, perhaps even laugh a little—all in the midst of the storm! Of course the sailors had to be encouraged, when they saw such courage! So—Who is a role model for you? Who has gone through a storm and, in going through it, displayed courage and calmness that were amazing? Many years ago, early in my ministry, I had doubts whether or not I wanted spend my life as a pastor. Personally, I thought truck driving sounded much more fun back then. Hey, I had a Master’s of Divinity degree from an accredited seminary—I figured that qualified me to drive a truck! It was the spring of the year, and I had to tell my District Superintendent if I wanted an appointment, or wanted to go on a leave of absence. It was quite a “stormy” decision I faced. There was a member of my church, Bob, who was facing a terminal illness. I had confided in him my vocational struggles, and he always pushed me to remain in the ministry—he said he saw whatever talents I had, and they could best be used there. Bob underwent an experimental therapy that left him with a mouth and throat full of painful sores. I visited him in the hospital, the day after I met with the District Superintendent. When I entered his room, the very first thing he said—slowly, painfully—was, “How…did…it…go?” I told him that I decided to stay in the ministry. He smiled slightly and said, “Good.” Here he is, facing his own death, lying on his bed in a lot of pain, and he’s concerned about a young man’s decision about a job? Amazing! And I thought right then—if Bob is the type of person I find in church, then I made the right decision to stay. You don’t think I saw in him what those sailors saw in Paul, as he invited them to eat in the middle of the storm? THAT is courage. THAT is compassion. THAT is faith. And THAT is the way I want to be in the middle of my storm. How about you? Get a role model in your mind, and that person’s courage may be the channel through which the Holy Spirit blows into your life. Conclusion: God gives you angels. God gives you role models. Now—face your storm, with the courage of Peter, the confidence of Paul. Remember—The wind blowing within you is stronger than the wind blowing against you. The Spirit in you is the Spirit of the One whose hand can bind the restless wave.
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