Green Light Believer

I'm not one to sizzle about sermons. A good sermon should speak, specifically, to the people being addressed. A good sermon will, primarily, give the listeners something to do, not something to talk about.

I've heard "good" sermons that gave me something to talk about, but I can't remember any of those. I've also heard sermons that taught me to pray, to fast, to witness, to serve, to be baptized, to change. I remember each one of those, because I'm still trying to live them today.

I have to say that the sermon on Sunday was both "good" and purposeful.*

To (brutally) sum up what was a work of beauty - the sermon demonstrated that if you've been waiting on direction from God, just recognize that He's already told you what you've asked Him for. When Gideon laid out the second fleece, he'd already received two convincing signs before that...and before that, had been told explicitly by God what to do. What we often use as a model (laying out a fleece, asking for a miracle/sign) for our relationship with God's will in our life is actually a model of what not to do!

God speaks in his Word. He speaks to his followers. Speaks, not "will speak," not "might speak."

Why do we ask for signs while God is talking to us? When my boss tells me to do something, I don't then ask for a sign!

That's the "thinky" part, the "good" sermon that tickles my ears, but what makes it great is that it changed me, too. That Sunday morning, I came to church something of a "Red Light" follower, waiting for clear direction from God to do anything. I left a "Green Light" Believer, and started doing things (witnessing, praying, writing), without signs or clarity, and figuring that IF what I do eventually becomes something that places me in opposition to God's will that...

...he'll give me a sign.

Until then, I'm going to approach the mission field sort of like the Monkees approach pirates. (It probably doesn't help if you change the lyrics slightly in your head, to "Green Light Believer." But now you are going to try, anyway.)



Poor mission field. Poor, poor mission field.

I hope this doesn't encourage my pastor to attempt less effective sermons on my account.

*At last check, the sermon wasn't yet up and available online. It will be soon here. Until then, you can catch up on a few previous lessons. Or not. What am I, your mother? (I'm not your mother, am I? Send paperwork if you think this might be the case, because I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that.)

Whose Image Do You See?

I got a whacky "prayer rug" in the mail from a cult the other day. I was supposed to stare at the face of Jesus emblazoned on the purplish 11x17 paper until his closed eyes opened, pray about something, and then open a sealed prophecy. After that, I was supposed to send the "rug" back to the church/cult/business venture for someone else to benefit from. It was an elaborate, though obvious religious shell game of some sort.

The mailer was impressive in several ways. First, that it found me at all: the mailman apparently would almost rather die than get close enough to my cave to toss mail in my general direction. Second, the envelope was stuffed with various and sundry materials, seemingly printed with no regard for standard typographics. Every other word was capitalized. Every third word was underlined. It was a full-fontal assault.* Third, by way of building confidence in the reader, the cult emphasized that it was a "57-year old church" in no less than four places throughout the cover letter. Because, apparently, once a church passes the 56-year mark, it carries an air of legitimacy that is above reproach.

It goes without saying that I have a begrudging alliance with other trolls. We are rarer than you might think. Internet trolls (you know, the kind who post to message boards and blogs with completely off-topic, irrelevant and always annoying materials or sales pitches) are beloved here. I "feed the trolls" because I understand that it isn't "humane" to starve them of the attention they desire.

I respond to spam, because I know that the criminals who perpetuate it on the world are really, at heart, just lonely people in need of, not just my mailing address, social security number and bank accounts, but my unconditional love, too. Real humans get short shrift around here, but autoreply devices? Those trolls are gold in my book.

But cults who figure out ways to get an actual, postage-paid, semi-personal letter in the form of a veiled test of my devotion to our Lord have evolved to a new plane of existence. They are King Trolls, OgreLords, the Ghasts of Hopetown.

I acknowledged their literature fondly as it found its way to my garbage heap of honor.

But I'll give them this credit: the spooky "prayer rug" caused me to consider not only an image of Christ, but the "image of God."

I considered this more later when reading Matthew 22. When the pharisees ask Jesus about paying taxes, He asks them to identify a coin.

Jesus said to them, “Whose image is this, and whose inscription?” They replied, “Caesar’s.” He said to them, “Then give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” (Matthew 22...something. Sorry. I'm doing my standard rush. Go read it for yourself. You do have a bible, don't you?)

I've always read this to mean, simply: pay your taxes, but don't withhold from God, and I don't think that is a wrong lesson to draw.

But this time, the term "image" stuck in my head.

The image of Caesar is on the coin, denoting Caesar's authority over the coin. But the way Jesus worded his response, it also begs the question: where is the image of God?

On us.

God's image, like Soylent Green, is people. God's image is not on a coin, but on human beings. I may be misreading this, but is Jesus accusing the pharisees of blocking people from receiving God's love and authority? Is it possible that Jesus says to us "Render unto Caesar this stupid coin, but render unto God His precious people?"

I'm going to think about this more.

Do you think I need to ask forgiveness for comparing His children to Soylent Green?

*No, I didn't not spell "full-frontal" wrong. I meant what I spelled.