From Harvey, I have learned that all of the streets throughout the East Side remained dirt-laden long after all other city streets were paved. I’ve heard all the details about the one Christmas present he ever received….a shiny red wagon his father saved a year for. It’s Harvey who taught me all about Central High School, the only high school in the area for black students until the time of desegregation. There’s an official plaque on the old school house stating when it was built. Harvey reads the date and vehemently disagrees, insisting that it was built three years earlier, with nary a shred of evidence aside from his still lucid memory. I’m not sure who to believe. For reasons that defy sound logic, I’m compelled to side with Harvey on this one. This month, I would like to thank Harvey and all those like him…those who have gone out of their way to educate me on matters profoundly relevant to my calling. I have learned a lot from you, and consider it a privilege to call you my friend.

Long story short…now that I have a son, I can finally renounce my quest for the perfect toy. Ellis is now 2-and-a-half years old, and has proven to stand true where the others fell flat. He is never short on energy. There’s nothing he can’t climb. Best of all, he is by all indications unbreakable. I have seen him run face first into a wall and erupt in laughter. Like my G.I. Joe action figure (not doll), Ellis comes equipped with a strangling battle-action grip. Fortunately, Ellis is not held together by the pathetic presence of a rubber-band. Furthermore, I am fairly confident that upon inspection, Ellis’ DNA would be found to resemble that of a Tonka truck.

Most parents joke that they wish their children had arrived with an instruction manual. Ellis should have come out carrying a complete list of concussion symptoms. He is more boy than I ever was, and I can’t wait until he teaches me to fish, or drive a tractor. Sometimes I’m tempted to wake him up in the middle of the night just to wrestle him.

Then man/woman asked…”could you be more specific?” God couldn’t help but detect a hint of suspicion in their collective tone. Man/woman had heard a transparent exposition on the nature of God’s intent from Gods’ own mouth. The path of life had been clearly illuminated….trust in the LORD with all you have, and you won’t trip. But, being creatures of designed limitation, and endowed with the freedom to make their own path, man/woman requested an object lesson. Knowing what it would cost him, God withdrew to grieve. Then, in the fullness of time, Jesus came preaching. He spoke of turning the other cheek. He spoke of the Father honoring those that sacrifice in secret. He spoke of pure motives with messy results. He liberated the law from its’ rigid and oppressive confines by summing it up in two sentences. Like his Father before him, he told of redemption through burial. It says that even his closest companions failed to understand that he had to die. They were even more surprised when they found that they had to as well. And so, for the sake of those who were slow to learn and quick to doubt, Jesus gave himself up. He laid down his life, and three days later bore witness to the sincerity of his Fathers’ promise. Through a bloody cross and an empty tomb, God gave a reply to man/womans’ request. God was specific. On Good Friday, we mourn our demand for details with all of its tragic consequences. On Easter Sunday, we rejoice in the awareness that we serve a God who is not above costly object lessons.

Stage fright is an odd infirmity for a preacher. Its widespread existence is symptomatic of our mistaken motives. People in our society expect to be entertained. When folks pay us to stand in front of them every week, there’s an unspoken expectation. We are expected to hold their attention. We are expected to be dynamic in our communication styles. We are expected to deliver some interesting tid bit that they couldn’t have thought of on their own. The equally unspoken thought in the back of our heads is….if we don’t deliver these things, then what exactly are we getting paid for? Jesus told his followers to have no fear of those to whom they spoke. But the disciples had a real reason to fear. Their life was on the line…not just their job. I’m afraid that people won’t like me. They were afraid that people might kill them. M. Scott Peck says that neurosis is a replacement for actual suffering. Tomorrow, I stand a scant chance of facing martyrdom. So that legitimate fear of the apostles has been supplanted by my neurotic fear of rejection. Undertanding that…let’s just tell the truth. Don’t worry about your style. Don’t worry about your homiletical technique. Forget about being entertaining or dynamic. Forget about looking smart or in control. Forget looking presentable. These are human attempts to grasp what only belongs to God. All that matters is…were you honest? Did you seek God before and during? Did you do your best to deliver the word as you understood it? Do these things. If you do, your sermon still might fail to meet “expectations”. If you feel conflicted about that, just refuse a paycheck this week. It won’t kill you.

Long story short…the way I see the Gospel has dramatically changed over the past few years. I believe the change to be for the better. The indignant me who fumed in that pew five years ago saw the Gospel as a set of doctrinal standards that were immune to interpretation, and closed to further questions. The maintenance of these standards was a matter of life and death; eternal life and death. With this view, there is little to be learned from other religions, or the misguided people who practice them. Practioners of others faiths were misinformed, and it was the church’s duty to remedy this. That’s what I thought. I don’t think that way anymore. That way of thinking, allowed to roam free, turns the church into something it was never intended to be…a preservation society for doctrinal statements. It’s possible that we’ve spent so much time trying to protect our ideolgy from the elements, that our primary task has escaped us.

Jesus didn’t come preaching an ideology. He came preaching an ethic. An ideology is defined as ” a set of beliefs belonging to a specific group.” An ethic is a way of life. In ethics, matters of the mind are of accidental importance. They matter only to the extent that they inform behavior. The ultimate concern of ethics is how you live, not how you think. Jesus challenged the way people thought. He challenged their ideas. He compelled them to plum the depths of their own theology, but it was done in the hopes that it might lead to an experiential connection with the father, and result in a life of loving sacrifice. Jesus didn’t lay down a system of beliefs…he laid down his life. His expectation of his followers was simply that they do the same.

To my knowledge there are two occasions in the Gospels when someone asked of Jesus….what must I do to have eternal life? One was the rich young ruler. The other was a Jewish lawyer. His response to the first? Obey the commandments/ sell your possessions, give to the poor, and follow me. His resonse to the second? Love the LORD your God, and love your neighbor as yourself. There was nothing in either of those two comebacks about intellectual assent to an historic fact. There was no mandate to have ones doctrinal ducks in a row. In fact, to the lawyer who knew the Law, Jesus emphasized, “DO these things.”

Jesus trusted his father. He enjoyed an unutterable intimacy with him that afforded him the luxury of opening himself to his enemies. The same will be true of his followers. It’s not about what we call ourselves. It’s not about what we call each other. It’s about how we live. As hesitant as I am to say it…it’s about our works. We are saved by grace, but that grace is conveyed to us through works. Every work is a divine blessing, even before it is carried out. And so, a life of righteousness is not an obligation. It’s an opportunity. Wisdom, Jesus said, will not be known by her label. She will be known by her deeds.

Anyway, we’re five weeks away from the big day, and we’re pretty much on schedule. Most encouragingly, we’ve begun to get some sponsors. Our goal continues to be to raise enough money to send 35 kids to camp this summer. If you want to find out how you can sponsor us-for any amount-just leave a comment, and we’d be more than happy to tell you how. Meanwhile, if you should happen upon a thirty-four year old man in a makeshift batman costume in frantic pursuit of a jogging stroller…..just look away.

When it comes to the first two categories, my experience is vast and unprecedented. I have mastered the “late-for-class-dash”, and I know how to run forward while looking backward. However, the more legitimate type of running has eluded me. I have not, to my recollection, ever run for something. That all changes on March 24th. Laura and I have made plans to run in The Human Race, a county-wide 5k run to benefit local non-profits.

The idea is that we run three miles, and you kind folks serve as our financial sponsors. All of the proceeds that our organization collects will be used to send kids to camp this summer. Our goal this year is to take thirty-five campers. At $275 a camper that amounts to ….a lot of money. By sponsoring us for any amount, you will be helping the cause. So, can you help? If not, then Laura and I will be participating in the dreaded fourth type of running…..running for nothing.

If you can’t look me in the eye and answer yes to those questions, then I have no other recourse than open defiance. Now, I’m well aware that the world is moving at a pace which threatens to make the hard-copy obsolete, but I for one will not go down without protest. I hereby go on record as stating that any society with the arrogance and audacity to abandon the book is a society that should itself be abandoned. People of conscience…wake up…apprehend what’s at stake and make a move to stay our collective slide into moral oblivion!

For those of you on the other side of the proverbial aisle, I offer this sincere advice. Put down your radioactive compadre, and proceed to your local library as quickly as your pointy little hipster shoes will carry you. Cast a judgemental glare in the direction of the riff-raff who only use this long-neglected institution for free internet access, and swiftly procure the nearest hard-cover edition of To Kill a Mockingbird. Open. Insert face. Inhale. Breathe in the existential smelling salts of the printed page and reclaim your place among the living. Repeat every day for a month and you will not only clear your spiritual sinuses of their tech-savvy hubris, but you will also absorb the literary genius of Harper Lee by way of olfactory osmosis. And…go.

When Jesus tells this parable, he makes a pretty clear allusion to his second coming. So, getting back to our subject, there are actually mulitple advents. The first of course was the initial incarnation in the manger….the one that let us know God is with us….that the very core of his existence is a relentless desire to be with us. The second advent is still future tense. Then he will bring full healing and restoration, and establish his administration of justice. And then there’s the third advent….the one that goes on every moment.

If advent is about the arrival of Jesus, then it’s always advent. Paul tells us in Acts that Jesus is the one in whom we live, and move, and have our being. He is the eternal substance of existence. John tells us that he is the vessel by which all things are created. As the eternal one, he lives in perpetual present. He has no past or future. Everything is “now” to the one that is not bound by time. As the essence of our being, he is steadily offering that newness to us, but only if we’re watchful. He makes all things new. Every moment is a re-start. Advent means we don’t have to live in the painful past or the frightening future. Newness is always here. Newness is healing. But it also means that we never get ahead. We never get off the ground. Getting ahead, or getting off the ground would mean getting away from our source; the one we are waiting for. For a Christian, the only progress is a backward progress toward surrender. The wise among us cherish relinquishment over achievement.