On Prophesy & Tax Collectors
Last Sunday, Groomsport Presbyterian experienced a service that was quite out of the ordinary. At the encouragement of several members, I planned and led an "American style" worship service. For my congregation in Groomsport, this meant some different experiences; responsive readings in the Call to Worship & Prayer of Confession, reciting the Apostles' Creed on a non-Communion Sunday, and probably the most challenging of all: greeting each other during the Passing of the Peace! I must say, I was very proud of them; with few exceptions they greeted the change in style with open arms, and more than a few requests for a repeat in the future.
If you are interested in what the "American style" service was like, you can see the PDF of our order of service (which includes the hymn insert and announcements - because they had never sung "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" before!!!), in comparison with a "regular" morning order of service from this summer.
If you do read the order of service, you will find that my sermon title is different from how it is listed here. This is a simple reason: I changed the focus on my sermon between when we printed the sheets on Friday and when I preached the sermon on Sunday. Following the video below you can read the manuscript of my sermon, which I followed, mostly. Enjoy!
I am what is called, at least in the US, a cradle Presbyterian. My parents are Presbyterian - both ordained elders. My mom’s parents, my Grandma and Grandpa Turk, were Presbyterian - in my book collection at home is my Grandpa’s Book of Common Worship he received when he joined the session, and as a young boy I remember going with my Grandma to “First Church” for her weekly volunteer shift in the office. I was baptised at John Knox Kirk Presbyterian in Kansas City before we moved to what I would come to know as my childhood home church in Warrensburg; a place that holds many strong, and some of my first, memories. I remember laying in the pews on a Thursday night as the choir practiced, and not understanding most of the words, but loving the music anyway. I remember sitting with my parents during communion, and thinking it quite unfair that everyone else got a snack and I didn’t. I even remember sneaking out of Sunday School with Nathan, the minister’s son, and hiding in an old storage room in the basement, and the eventual shame of facing not only our parents, but also Mrs. Oshima, our teacher. For me, church was more than a place we went once a week, it was a second home. It was a place of safety, familiarity, and comfort. It was a place where there would always be someone who wanted to know how my week had been, someone asking when the next band concert was going to be (because they wouldn’t miss it!), and where there would always be a doughnut and a cup of apple juice waiting before the service.
It hopefully goes without saying that I am proud to be Presbyterian. Not only for the good memories of my childhood, but also for the seriousness with which we approach our faith. When many of my friends in other churches were being taught to “just accept Jesus” and to not “ask too many questions” - our Sunday School class was discussing how the creation stories in Genesis could be true at the same time as science, since we were learning about evolution in our life sciences class in middle school. When other churches were preaching condemnation on anyone who didn't believe or worship exactly as they did, my high school confirmation class was visiting a synagogue, an Islamic community centre, and about a half-dozen different Christian denominations, ranging from Catholic to Mennonite - and at each one spending time with the leader of the community to see how we were alike and different; all because my pastor believed that if we were going to join the church, we needed to understand why: why we are Presbyterian, why we do what we do, what we believe, and why it all matters.
I am proud that we think about our faith. I am proud that we take time to make decisions, and that we trust in the wisdom of our communities to make better decisions than any one person might on their own. I am proud of our history and traditions; they keep us grounded.
But sometimes, I wonder if they keep us too grounded. As I neared the end of high school, my church sent our youth group on a mission trip to Arkansas, the state directly to the south of my home state of Missouri. During our week or so away we did volunteer work, participated in educational programs and work on hunger issues, and played a lot of games. For the Sunday we were in Arkansas, our leader decided to take us to an Assemblies of God congregation. If you have never experienced an Assemblies of God worship service, here is what you need to know. They are a denomination that was born out of the charismatic/pentecostal revival in America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They take the NT writings on spiritual gifts very seriously, and believe that all true Christians are blessed with some form of outward spiritual sign: the most common being the speaking in (or interpreting of) tongues. This is often expressed during the worship service by members of the congregation. I can tell you with all honesty, as a teenager, I had no idea what to make of this. I was sitting in a strange sanctuary, surrounded by hundreds of people I didn’t know, and there were people standing up in the middle of the sermon - interrupting the preacher (!!!) - talking in what sounded like babble - and others were encouraging it.
I know the intentions of our youth leader were good, but I came away from that experience thinking just what some of you might be thinking now: wow, that’s crazy. That’s not church. To be honest, over the years, I have told this story on more than a few occasions, and most of those times I have told it with the same tone: harsh, and judgemental, and dismissive. How could someone possibly experience God like that!? How could someone learn about God’s grace with all those interruptions?! All that speaking in tongues stuff, all that being moved by the Spirit stuff, that’s all superstitious nonsense, right?! It doesn’t have a place in a thinking person’s church, does it?
Now, I’m not going to say much on my views on outward spiritual signs here, other than to say this: if we really believe that God raised Jesus from the dead, then is it that hard to believe that the Holy Spirit might continue to be active, today, here and now?
My biggest challenge with that service all those years ago was not that things were in a different order, or that the songs were unusual, or even that we were having church in a building that felt more like a hotel conference centre than a place of worship. No, my biggest challenge was that unlike any other church I’d been to, here no one really seemed in charge. Sure, there was a pastor. There was a choir director and an organist. They clearly had a plan, but that plan could be (and many times was) thrown into complete chaos by someone - anyone - in the congregation.
This rubs against the very core of my Presbyterian soul. Worship is to be done decently and in order. In the PCUSA Book of Order (similar to The Code of the PCI) there are 75 pages devoted to worship, its proper planning, ordering, and execution. Every element of the service, from the selection of scripture to be read and expounded upon in the sermon to the choice of music for the day, is to be considered with thought and prayer, considering the needs of the community, the place in the church year, and the realities of the broader world. How can this be done if it all can be thrown into chaos by one, regular, ordinary person?
Joel 2:28, “Then afterward I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. Even on the male and female slaves, in those days, I will pour out my spirit.”
Maybe chaos is the wrong word. Maybe the word is incarnation. The inbreaking of God’s Spirit into our everyday lives. How would our worship be different if we truly believed that right now, right this very moment, that God might speak? What might be different if we were waiting with expectation, ready for the Holy Spirit to come blazing in our midst? How would I live my life differently if I expected our sons and daughters to prophesy - our old men and women to dream dreams - our young women and men to see visions - if I expected women and men of all races and classes to have God’s Spirit poured out upon them?
Well, I would still plan for worship, because I also believe that the Spirit works in planning as much as in spontaneity. But I would also recognise that my experience of worship - what I know as normal, and comfortable, and safe - is not everyone’s experience. I would strive to listen to as many different voices as I could, because who knows, maybe God is speaking in a way I don’t expect.
All too often I think we, as a denomination, have fallen into the trap of the Pharisee in today’s reading: bragging about how wonderful we are, and even thanking God that we aren’t as simple minded as those other Christians over there, because our worship is more refined, more cultured, more serious. When in fact, we are in just as much need of forgiveness as anyone else.
We Presbyterians, we have much to offer this world: our deep love of the faith that inspires us to study and learn and take issues of theology seriously, our commitment to the worth of all people and their value in making decisions, and the best cooking in North Down - I mean fantastic hospitality! It is those strengths that give me such hope about our future.
If we, like the tax collector, can be open and honest with God, I believe that is when we will find the promise of Joel coming true in our community, and in our world. And that is very good news indeed.