Rauch Spence Memorial UMC

Rauch Spence Memorial UMC Inviting others in the community.

06/29/2021

FYI, tomorrow night we will have our 2nd mobile food bank at the Methodist church parking lot. THIS WILL NOT BE A DRIVE THRU so please bring your wagons, baskets, whatever you need to pick up your groceries and take them to your car. The truck will be there approximately at 4:30 pm. We will start as soon as we are set up. Come prepared.
Pastor Toni

05/19/2021

Uncommon Scents
Sunday, June 25, 2006 | Mark 4:35-41

Trust.

It now comes in a bottle. A New York City lab claims to have bottled trust. They say: After showering in the morning simply spray a sq**rt or two of odorless Liquid Trust onto your skin, and then the people you meet during the next few hours will trust you without their knowing why they trust you.

Common sense would tell you that this is nuts. Sounds weird. One whiff and they — will— inexplicably — trust — you.

No way!

Do you have a speech to give to Congress tomorrow and want them all to believe you? Spray on Liquid Trust. Do you want the boss to believe you? Dab on Liquid Trust. Do you want to sell that beat-up old jalopy on the back lot for more than it’s worth to a sucker? Use Liquid Trust.

What’s in Liquid Trust? Vero Labs profess that they bottle the naturally occurring and odorless hormone oxcytocin. Oxcytocin is the actual scientifically proven elixir of trust. It’s a naturally occurring human hormone that plays a significant role in childbirth, breast-feeding and romantic love. It turns out that trusting people involves biology and chemistry.

In the June, 2005, issue of the venerated journal, Nature, a team of scientists from the University of Zurich published their findings showing that inhaling a nasal spray containing the highly uncommon scent, oxcytocin, makes humans significantly more trusting. Using 128 participants researchers created an investment game in which “investors” were asked to trust their money with anonymous “trustees.” Half of the “investors” were nasally administered three puffs of the hormone oxcytocin. Half of those who puffed invested. Among those who did not inhale the spray, only a quarter invested. Oxcytocin doesn’t make you nicer, or optimistic, or willing to gamble, they say; it just increases trusting behavior.

Just.

At $50 a bottle, would you trust the company that’s selling trust in a bottle? It does sound like a shoo-in moneymaker for a door-to-door sales rep hawking the stuff, provided she’s wearing Liquid Trust. Some folks are warning that trust in a bottle could be an ill wind that’s sure to be misused by Don Juans and crooks.

Here’s the thing: What is it — really — that causes us to place our trust in someone or in Someone? Common sense tells us that trust is not just about a scent; trust has got to be more than a chemical.

Even uneducated fisherman know this. Especially when they’re in a small boat on a big sea. Ill winds at night on the Sea of Galilee can rise with terrifying suddenness and create the perfect storm. Violent storm winds that come off the Golan Heights get trapped in that large freshwater basin and can be deadly even to the most experienced of fishermen. For fishermen in smallish ancient boats, the waters of the Sea of Galilee could grow disturbingly, dangerously and immediately immense.

As recently as 1992, a windstorm raised 10-foot waves that crashed into the town of Tiberias causing significant damage there. Ten-foot waves are humongous and deadly, especially when you’re in a small sailboat that is only four and a half feet high from the bottom of the keel to the top of the rails (gunnels). This size boat might well be the type of boat Jesus and his buds were in that fateful night.

Back in 1986, during a drought in Galilee, the bones of an ancient boat were uncovered. Carbon dating placed its age between 100 B.C. and A.D. 100, smack-dab in Jesus’ time. At 26 feet in overall length and seven feet in the beam (its widest point) the boat could fit 15 persons, including a helmsman and a crew of four. It would take a boat that size to haul Jesus and his crew from one shore to another.

These vessels, once common on the Sea of Galilee, had a single mast rigged with a yard- arm from which hung a square sail. These nearly flat-bottomed boats sailed well before the wind and terribly into it. Jesus’ crew was seasoned. These were seamen sailing a trustworthy boat with which they were most likely familiar, and perhaps was even owned by one of them. These men understood the waters, the wind and the shoreline. They could handle themselves and their boat whenever the weather went from calm to horrendous. In the dark of that night, perhaps they dropped (removed) their square sail when the wind kicked up. Maybe four strong-backed fishermen/disciples took to the oars and began confidently to row a course that could, with the help of the helmsmen — in a power struggle with the wind and sea — save the boat, and thus their lives.

Meanwhile, the winds raged and increased, tossing the boat about on angry white-topped waves, all the while astern of the helmsman Jesus slept soundly and comfortably cuddled on a wet deck on a soaking soft cushion. Maybe all self-trust of the fishermen, maybe all their skill, was suddenly washed overboard in mounting, terrifying and smashing seas. They had reason to believe they were headed to the bottom.

Now if you were in a boat in a raging sea, who would you trust? Who would you want to be there? Would it be sailors of lifelong experience or a city boy sleeping in the hold?

Isn’t this the dilemma we face? Pastor Kevin McHarg of First Christian Church in Benton, Kentucky, says that the question is: Am I willing and ready to trust a sleeping Jesus?

When I’m in the doctor’s office awaiting a diagnosis, am I willing to trust a sleeping Jesus?

When I’m in the middle of a bitter dispute, am I willing to trust a sleeping Jesus?

When I’m making a change in my career path, am I willing to trust a sleeping Jesus?

When I’m challenged by my failure to serve God beyond my own needs and interests, am I willing to trust a sleeping Jesus?

A Jesus on the road to Jerusalem I might be able to trust.

A Jesus opening the eyes of the blind I might be able to trust.

A Jesus teaching the Torah to a crowd on a hillside I might be able to trust.

A Jesus rebuking the Pharisees I might be able to trust.

But — a sleeping Jesus?

Don’t think so.

If the tormented sea and waves actually were two feet tall that night, or even eight, we can understand the fear in the gruff, bass voices of the sea-worthy disciples when they awakened Jesus, saying, “Teacher! The boat’s going down. Don’t you care?!”

To which he eventually replied, “What’re you afraid of? Where’s your trust in me?” But before he said those words, he spoke loudly, shouting out into the storm, out into the night, saying to the wind and water, “Peace! Be still!”

At his words, as you know, the wind dropped and the seas flattened. His men were stunned. The seascape went from tempest to calm in the breath of a few words. The loud howling wind ceased. Roaring waves vanished. Their boat bobbed. The men stopped their shouting. There was no noise. All was silent. All was calm, except perhaps, the beating of their shocked hearts, alarmed at what he had done.

Then, into the silence, in a quiet voice, Jesus asked his friends, “Why are you afraid? Where is your faith? Where is your trust?”

After Jesus stopped the storm it was then that their experience of him, or his power, told them, “Trust this man.” Trust us on this: It wasn’t body odor or perfume that gave Jesus an odor or aura of credibility. It was what he did. It was how Jesus controlled the weather with words. It was how he saved all their lives. That was how they came to be more trusting, not of just anyone, but of him.

So how do we come to place our trust in someone, or in Jesus? We want to trust, we want to have faith, but sometimes, it’s just the hardest thing.

It might be easier if faith came in a bottle. Might be easier if all we had to do was spray on some Liquid Trust. Instead, all we have is our experience of Jesus, and words on a printed page that tell us about him. Because —

• Jesus will calm some of our storms.

• Jesus will not calm all of our storms.

• We have to trust that Jesus knows which storms need calming.

And no, we don’t have the physical Jesus asleep in the stern of our boats. What we have is more difficult. We have words. We have the words of his disciples. We have his words, telling us, “Blessed are those who have not seen, but yet have come to believe.” Belief is a powerful thing, more powerful maybe than chemicals. Belief makes us live differently, and it’s not short-lived like a morning spray of Liquid Trust. True belief lasts.

Why believe in him? Why trust him? [NOTE: What follows may comprise the bulk of the sermon itself if each idea is fleshed out.]

• We trust him because others have trusted him before us.

• We trust him because he is trustworthy.

• We trust him because he died for us.

• We trust him because he has demonstrated his love for us.

• We trust him because his word is true.

Your nose may lead you many places, but let your heart lead to a place of uncommon peace, uncommon trust, uncommon assurance and uncommon courage.

Jesus is Someone you can trust.
Edmund Fitzgerald
Storm-tossed waters are a frequently used metaphor for the turmoil of living.

In 1976, the Edmund Fitzgerald went down, and songwriter Gordon Lightfoot recorded a haunting ballad in honor of and as a tribute to the ship and the men who lost their lives. He called it “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

The Edmund Fitzgerald was a giant ore freighter, 729 feet in length, and was the largest carrier on the Great Lakes from 1958 until 1971. The Fitzgerald was labeled “the pride of the American Flag.”

On November 10, 1975, the Fitzgerald was hauling a heavy load of ore to Detroit, Michigan, when it ran into a severe storm. This storm generated 27-30-foot waves with a following sea. During the evening hours the ship disappeared from radar screens; apparently it sank in a matter of minutes. It now rests on the bottom of Lake Superior broken in two with the bow upright and the stern upside down still loaded with its cargo of ore and all 29 hands.

In Gordon Lightfoot’s ballad about the sinking of the freighter Edmund Fitzgerald, he asks: “Does anyone know where the love of God goes/ When the waves turn the minutes to hours?”

Enjoy!

05/10/2021

The Helium God
John 15:9-17 | 5/10/2021

We've heard of helicopter parents. What about helium parents? This parenting approach is quite different. Far from hovering over and around a child, the "helium" parent is more like a person holding a balloon. Read on.

"I just CHECKED in on [my daughter] in school via the we**am. There was a little girl sitting in the corner, by herself, with her head down. I watched my daughter get up from the group she was playing with, and walk over to check on the little girl. [She] talked to her for a minute, gave her a hug, then took her over to the big group of kids, and encouraged her to play with everyone. If that's not a 'Proud Mommy Moment,' I don't know what is. My gosh, I am so in love with this girl of mine!"

So writes an enthusiastic young mother on Facebook, brimming with justifiable pride in her preschooler's love of neighbor. Her parenting experience is not new: Generations of mothers before her have marveled at their children's emerging personalities and their growing capacity for caring. What is new about this mother's experience is the particular way she observed her daughter's behavior. She simply turned on her COMPUTER and watched the live feed from the classroom. Ask any elementary school teacher and you'll find how swiftly things have changed. Gone are the days when, from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., parents entrusted their children's EDUCATION exclusively to their teachers. Electronic technology has rendered classroom walls strangely transparent. A new generation of parents relies on technology to shadow their offspring, venturing across the once-sacrosanct boundary between home and school.

This particular technology is not yet widespread, but it's there, and it's becoming more common. Some day care centers use this tool, and it's also used on school buses in some areas. Parents can check in on their children at any time. This can be a loving gesture, or a hovering gesture -- or both. Such technology, in other words, can be yet another tool in the hands of what we've come to call a "helicopter parent." This is the mom (or dad) who's always hovering and buzzing the child -- controlling, manipulating, directing and micro-managing the child's life.
Wait! We're not about criticizing mother's on Mother's Day! LOL! What we want to do is to honor moms, and to talk about moms. But we also want to talk about God. That's why you have to wonder if most people think of God as a "helicopter God" -- always buzzing around, controlling and interfering. Or do most people think about mom -- and about God -- in a different way?

Reflecting on the expression "helicopter parent," Rabbi David Wolpe of Los Angeles' Sinai Temple proposes a new variation: He calls it "helium parenting." In his words: "We should hold on to our children as a child holds a balloon. Let them rise, float on their own, but keep a grasp on the string so that they do not float away to unknown parts. The time will come when we need to release the balloon, but, in the meantime, instead of hovering from above, we should be holding lightly from below. Think of it as parental string theory." The outcome of this style of being a mom, Wolpe, continues is different: "So often we forget that we are not trying to create 'good kids,' but competent, kind adults. Self-reliance is the fruit of practice, nurtured by failure, encouraged by appropriate risk. Coddle a kid and you get a coddled kid. Let them soar and you get an adult."

Now, turn the tables. What if, instead of talking about kids in schools or homes, we were talking about ourselves? And what if the EDUCATOR or mom were not our teachers or parents, but God?
What sort of maternal oversight do we prefer the Almighty to exercise over us? Some of us are inclined to visualize God as the consummate helicopter parent: always hovering overhead, training a spotlight on us to highlight our misdeeds. This is a stern, judgmental ruler, the ultimate micromanager: surveying our lives with disapproval, swift to mete out punishment. Yet, what if God relates to us in a very different way? What if God is more like Wolpe's concept of a helium mom, holding gently to the end of a string as we dance on the wind-currents?

Thankfully, God doesn't seem all that interested in micromanaging our lives. To the contrary, the Lord seems content to leave us alone for long periods, with only the lightest of tugs on the balloon string. Sometimes that touch is imperceptible, barely there. At other times -- episodes of trouble or temptation, in particular -- we may suddenly feel a strong pull on the line, calling us back into closer relationship.

Truth is, our gospel text tells us how we want God to mother us. It tells us how we want God to take care of us. With love. What does the text say about this love?

It's a love that is specific to you. "You did not choose me but I chose you" (v. 16). We love it when mom chooses us, singles us out for some love and praise. Jesus says that we, too, were chosen by him, even as God chose Jesus.

It's a love that gives us a job. We loved it when mom gave us a job, didn't we?
We loved it when she asked us to help her, to work side by side with her -- whether it was helping to bake some cookies, or to put our finger in the string when she was tying a knot on some packages, didn't matter. We loved it. We weren't crazy about doing chores, but we did them because we knew we should, and it was mom! God loves us this way, too. We are tasked with helping God with the chores. We are called to "bear fruit -- fruit that will last" (v. 16).

It's a love in which we remain. "Now remain in my love," the text says (v. 9). Jesus says we remain in his love when we obey his commands (v. 10). So, in one sense, God's love is conditional. Mom loved us this way, too. We remained in her love as long as we weren't bad. And she knew when we were bad, no matter how hard we tried to conceal it. And we felt badly when we knew that she knew! But, on the other hand, there's a sense in which we can never be outside of God's love, even as we were never outside of mom's love. Yes, she got put out with us. Yes, we exasperated her on many an occasion. Yes, she put us in "timeout." But, we were always in her love. And, we are always in the love of God. See Romans 8:35-39. Nothing can separate us from God's love.

It's a love that asks us to play nice and share. "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you" (v. 12). At the end of the reading, Jesus says it again: "This is my command: love each other" (v. 17 NIV). Can't you hear mom asking us to play nice? "Be nice to your brother!" "Take your sister with you." Well, God loves us this way, too. God loves us enough to ask us to share the love with others.

It's a love that is sacrificial. "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life" (v. 13). When we think about all that mom did for us, well ... it's amazing. Is God's love any less? Did not God in Jesus Christ lay down his life for us?

All of this is suggestive, not of a helicopter God, but a helium God, a God whose hand is on the string. We feel the tug at times. We sense the slack, but we always know the hand is there.

The relationship we have (or have had) with our moms -- indeed, to any parental figure in our lives -- is complex. This is no less true of our relationship with God, a relationship based on love, requiring a firm, but gentle, hand on the balloon line. Our spiritual relationship with God is often experienced in similar ways. At times we may feel God hovering, and at other times we feel the hand on the string, gently letting us rise. In any case, on Mother's Day, we give thanks for those people in our lives who have been willing to make such a sacrifice, for our sake.

Theologian Leonard Sweet shares this story.
A mother whose only son was preparing for college wrote the following note to the college president:

"Dear Sir: My son has been accepted for admission to your college and soon he will be leaving me. I am writing to ask that you give your personal attention to the selection of his roommate. I want to be sure that the person he will spend the next few years with is not the kind of person who smokes, drinks, uses foul language or is a trouble-maker or rabble-rouser. I hope you will understand why I am appealing to you directly. You see, this is the first time my son will be away from home, except for his three years in the Marines. Sincerely, ..."

--Leonard Sweet, posted on Facebook, July 9, 2013.
-Special thanks to Rev. Ed Fashbaugh, Crossroads UMC, Canton, Ohio, for editorial guidance on this piece.

Enjoy! Happy Mother's Day

05/04/2021

Do You Understand?
Sunday, May 2, 2021 | Acts 8:26-40

Little Liam and Amelia are in first grade. Although some kids their age went to actual classrooms, Liam and Amelia attended school online. When they first started in the fall of 2020, they could read a little. But in first grade, they learned to read a lot. Now they’re excellent readers for their age and reading at a third-grade level.
One of the stories they might have read in the early days of first grade went like this:
Charlotte wants to build a fort.
She gets a big cardboard box.
She gets some strong tape.
Her dad helps, too.
He gets some scissors.
He cuts the cardboard.
He makes windows and doors.
They set up the fort in the backyard.
Her brother wants to play.
Her sister wants to play.
Her friends want to play.
Charlotte and her dad look at each other.
They need a bigger fort!
Readability scientists would give this story a very high readability score. The story is much more readable than a version like this: “Charlotte desires to construct a military fortress, but is lacking suitable material. However, she is soon able to acquire a cardboard box, and with the help of industrial grade packing tape, shears and staples, the child manages to erect a citadel of such impressive proportions that her siblings and the neighborhood children are all eager to participate. Soon, Charlotte and her father, who assisted in the project, come to the startling realization that a larger edifice is indicated.”
One online source defines readability as “the ease with which text can be read and understood.” Factors contributing to a readability score are the number of words in a sentence, the length of words and how many syllables they contain, fonts, spacing, etc. Two common assessment tools are the Flesch Reading Ease (FRE) and the Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level (FKGL) formulas originally developed for the Navy and the Department of Defense. Now, Microsoft Word has a built-in function that provides FRE and FKGL scores, and the popular editing tool, Grammarly, also uses FRE and FKGL formulas to assess readability.
An old journalism adage insists that when writing for a general audience, authors should try to imagine the audience as a group of eighth-graders.
In the Acts reading for today, we encounter a person who’s experiencing readability discomfort. Does it surprise you that he’s reading the Bible — what we call the Old Testament?
And would it surprise you to know that he’s not reading the story of David and Goliath? Nor is he confused by the riveting account of the baby Moses floating on the Nile in a basket made of bulrush reeds.
No, he’s plodding through Isaiah 53.
Have you ever had the feeling that some parts of the Bible are virtually unreadable? Have you ever thought to yourself: “What is the apostle Paul trying to say?” And forget all those prophets in the back of the Old Testament!
If we were to read Isaiah 53 ourselves, we might be just as uncomfortable as was the prince of Ethiopia. Like him, we might think that these texts read like “obscure speech and difficult language,” to cite Ezekiel (3:5).
Christians, along with Jews and Muslims, are called “People of the Book.” This story in Acts of the interaction between Philip the Evangelist and the Ethiopian gives us an opportunity to discuss interpretation and comprehension of the biblical text. Let’s look at it from three perspectives: text, teacher and comprehension.
Text
It is very unusual that this Ethiopian was reading at all, let alone reading something from the prophets. The literacy rate in the land of Cush — often the name associated with ancient Ethiopia — probably wasn’t any higher than it was in first-century Palestine, where the literacy rate was barely 1 percent.
In most villages, only one person — usually the leader of the synagogue — could stand up on the Sabbath in the synagogue and read the Torah. The gospels give us an example: Following his conversation with the devil in the wilderness, Jesus goes back to his hometown and attends the synagogue “on the sabbath day as was his custom. He stood up to read …” After reading, “he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down” (Luke 4:16, 20). A rule might have been in place that if no one else stood to read, the same person could repeat the ritual of standing, reading, and sitting seven times. By then, the congregation had heard a reading from the Torah, the Writings, the Prophets and more.
These readers were of vital importance. Without them, the people would have no way of knowing, let alone understanding, the word of God. But, on the other hand, it wasn’t really that important.
Why? Because the ancient Palestine people lived in an agrarian economy and sending one’s son to school was considered a waste of time and money. Boys were expected to be in the fields. And, moreover, theirs was a culture of oral tradition. The long and short of it was that a person could be illiterate and still fulfill all the requirements of the law, thank you very much.
But Jesus had learned to read. As a precocious lad of 12, he had schooled the scribes and Pharisees in the finer points of the Law. Jesus was evidently a second reader on this particular day when he stood to read. What’s interesting is the text Jesus chose to read. What do you suppose it was? Isaiah, the same prophetic source that the Ethiopian was reading! A portion of the Torah had probably already been read (see Acts 15:21), so Jesus stands up, reads a passage from Isaiah, including, but not limited to, 61:1-2. And then he sits down.
Here’s the thing: The literacy rate in the United States is 99 percent. No doubt almost everyone who shows up at your Zoom online church service, or in person at your brick-and-mortar building, can read. But honestly, your congregation probably has more in common with the audience to whom Jesus read 2,000 years ago than we’d care to admit.
A recent report by the American Bible Society shows that “only 9 percent of respondents read their Bible on a daily basis, the lowest figure in the decade.” Why? It’s hard to say. A number of factors may account for the decline. But one thing is certain: It’s not a readability issue as it used to be when the King James Version had its mystical imprimatur as the divine and inerrant word of God. For many people, reading the KJV was like trying to read the Bible in Latin.
What this means is that churchgoers generally are not like the Ethiopian of today’s story. They’re more like Jesus’ neighbors, who went to synagogue and couldn’t read the Scriptures to save their lives. What saved them was that someone else could read. And today, if people read and hear the Scriptures, it’s likely to be in church, and if not, it’s likely the Scriptures are not read or heard at all.
The implication is that the public reading of Scripture is as essential as it always has been.
Teacher
The literacy issues mentioned above continued well into the medieval period and into the Renaissance and beyond. Until the Reformation, no earnest and devout Christian worried about reading the Bible, or even understanding the Bible. The priest would read the text (although some priests were illiterate themselves), and the church would tell you what to believe about the text. Easy!
Then Johannes Gutenberg came along with his little printing press, and suddenly the Bible was being printed in the vernacular — how vulgar! — and people were coming up with the strangest ideas about biblical texts. In short, the Catholic Church, and even multitudinous Protestant churches, could no longer limit or control how people interpreted the Bible. Protestants with their printing presses had introduced into the general population a hermeneutical virus of pandemic proportions!
But this was not the problem for the Ethiopian court official in Queen Candace’s kingdom in today’s reading. This was an educated man. He was evidently trustworthy because he was in control of the keys to the treasury. He was somebody!
But when Philip hitches a ride with him and sits beside him in his new Chariot XL, he sees that the man is troubled. The conversation begins with a question: “Do you understand?” No, he doesn’t. “What don’t you understand?” And the Ethiopian explains. And then Philip explains.
We need teachers. If we can read, we had parents and teachers who were instrumental in teaching us to read. As our learning increases, and if we consider ourselves lifelong learners, we know that we must do the research and we must find the voices of the past to gain wisdom about the present.
We cannot, as so many seem to do these days, trust our own judgment, or think we can make pronouncements without considering a vast body of opinion when forming our own.
This is especially true on matters of theology, ethics and biblical texts. Before we begin to spout hair-brained ideas about the meaning of the book of the Revelation of Jesus Christ, for example, we might consult scholars and theologians of the present day, as well as those of centuries gone by. Establish how the text has been interpreted in the past. Then, we might offer our own view, but not without being able to explain why.
We need those who can help us unpack the Scriptures. These people have always been important.
Go back to Jesus’ day. In those days, the people who knew the Scriptures were priests, scribes, elders, Pharisees and Sadducees. Although the gospels usually present them in a negative light, they had a vital function in the religious life of the community. And remember that when the exiles returned from their Babylonian captivity, it was the scribe and priest Ezra who incited a religious revival: “The scribe Ezra stood on a wooden platform that had been made for the purpose; … And Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people, for he was standing above all the people; and when he opened it, all the people stood up. Then Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God, and all the people answered, ‘Amen, Amen,’ lifting up their hands. Then they bowed their heads and worshiped the Lord with their faces to the ground. Also … the Levites helped the people to understand the law, while the people remained in their places. So they read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation. They gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading” (Nehemiah 8:5-8, emphasis added).
The Ethiopian was eager to learn from a teacher. He would have agreed with the biblical proverb: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. … Do not be wise in your own eyes” (Proverbs 3:5,7).
This is why the church has pastors, teachers and evangelists who are eager to step into Philip’s role as a teacher, mentor and guide. In fact, the Bible explicitly states that some people have been gifted for this very task, and we should not hesitate to make use of their skills: “Some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ” (Ephesians 4:11-13).
Comprehension
Philip asked the Ethiopian dignitary in the chariot — in so many words — “Just what don’t you understand?” And the Ethiopian was like, “Everything!”
You’ve got to love what Luke, the writer of Acts, notes about this encounter: “Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture, he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus” (v. 35).
He started with the Bible! He didn’t start with a joke, a personal anecdote, a comment or discussion of the culture or questions about the man’s religious, ethnic and cultural backgrounds. The man was reading from Isaiah, so Philip started with Isaiah, and then led him on a journey through what was Philip’s Bible of the time, the Hebrew Scriptures.
It’s a good principle that when sharing one’s faith we ought to start with the Book. Start with the Bible, then talk about our experience with the Scriptures as a source of faithful guidance for our lives. Rather than launching into philosophies of this world, fads and movements, we can just keep it simple and do what Philip did. Start with the Bible.
And then what did Philip do?
He told him the “good news about Jesus”! Isaiah 53, he said, is about Jesus. Philip no doubt explained how Jesus was good news. This is what people need to hear, isn’t it? Not only in the age of Covid, but anytime and anywhere. People are thirsty for good news. Philip told him about Jesus.
Sharing our faith is hard for many of us. But perhaps we over-complicate this. We might ask someone, “What don’t you understand — about life, your life, your faith, your journey, your mission, your purpose?” After their response, you say, “Let me tell you about Jesus.” Not hard at all.
Final observation: This text also reminds us that there’s no need for misunderstanding. The word of God, the psalmist wrote (He was not referring to the New Testament!), is a “lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (119:105).
What don’t you understand? If your answer is “everything,” just remember that it is no longer a readability issue. That excuse won’t fly. Instead:
• Take a good look at the text.
• Find a teacher and explore the history of the text’s interpretation.
• Ask yourself what it says about Jesus.
The journey toward understanding is enlightening and rewarding.
Amen. (Homiletics)

Enjoy!

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