Input Please! – Sermon on Mark 16 Commission

I’m scheduled to guest-preach at church on March 4.  One of the benefits of not having to preach regularly is the luxury of extra-long prep-time.

I wanted to choose a text not in the lectionary, and Mark 16 is an obvious and problematic choice for a number of reasons.  I’d like your feedback:

• How do we treat texts like Mark 16:15-18?  Its pseudepigraphal nature leads us to question its value – is it worthwhile at all?
• If so, what do we do with this kind of exhortation?  How do we weigh it against the rest of Mark?
• What does the Great Commission mean to the liberal/progressive church?
• What do we do with Evangelism?

Comments welcome,

Peter

Stand With Conviction! (you know?)

I love this!

And Who Am I? (…)

Over the last several months, my wife has settled into her role as interim associate pastor at our church, and I’ve discovered something very quickly: beyond the fact that she’s a brilliant, articulate classroom lecturer at seminary, she also happens to be a dynamic, passionate, and gifted preacher.

I guess it’s ironic, as I remember her words to me just before we got married: “Peter, I’m not going to be a pastor’s wife.”  Ha!  How the tables turn…

Jen wasn’t saying she wouldn’t support me in ministry if that’s how I felt led, or that I couldn’t be a pastor – after all, for those of you who remember, we rescheduled our wedding day so I could take my first class at George Fox Seminary, guest lectured by Brian D. McLaren.  That’s not exactly a lack of support  (it was years later that she enrolled in seminary, herself).  Rather, she wasn’t interested in playing the traditional, highly-gendered “role” of pastor’s wife… I guess that must mean wearing an apron, baking cookies, smiling politely and looking pious-and-pretty while standing behind her husband.  And I’m glad she didn’t want that role.  I confess, there was a time in my life — 10+ years ago, to be sure — where I probably was looking for something like that.  I feel ashamed of it now.

So as I sit in the pew with my wife at the pulpit, wearing her white vestments, I feel a deep sense of pride and awe at her natural abilities.  But I confess, narcissist that I am, to struggling a bit with what it means for my own identity.  I’m used to being the center of attention, damn it! I’m scheduled to guest-preach in a month or so — my first time at this church.  At prior churches we’ve attended, I was always the go-to for guest-preaching, and now I imagine what Jen must have felt like, not being asked, and having the natural gifts that she does.  I took a lot for granted.  I suppose I took her for granted.

When Jen first began attending George Fox, it was three years after I started there, so she was “Peter’s wife” for awhile, but as a full time student, she quickly developed relationships and a sense of community I could not with my half-time, evenings-only status.  For the last three years, I have learned what it means to be “Jen’s husband,” and it’s been both humbling and (I think) truly healthy for me.  In the same way, I’m learning to swallow my sometimes massive pride and help out with children’s ministry at church, teaching Sunday School or selling bags of coffee beans before the service.  It isn’t glamorous, but these may be exactly the lessons I’ve needed for a very long time.

If I can accommodate NOT being the center of attention, and truly integrate some kind of servanthood or humility or loving support into my psyche, this “metamorphosis” will be the best thing that could happen to me.  Because sooner or later, every “small town celebrity” ends up wondering why they didn’t “make it big.”

I’ve told you before: I once wanted to be a famous actor.  I got a gig in a Lifetime Original Movie in college.  Did I tell you that?  Then I wanted to be a famous writer.  I made friends with Leonard Sweet.  Did I tell you that?

But I still work a full time job, and I still live in small-town Oregon, and I like this life.  There’s something stepping out of the “limelight” (or off of the pulpit) has to teach me, and I think it’s very good.  And in those rare occasions when I do step back up to offer a guest-sermon, or get an article published, I pray I don’t find my identity there.

"Another one bites the dust!" (Televangelistic Cliches)

Lots of cheap (cruel) jokes come to mind with the recent disclosure of sexual impropriety by televangelist Marcus Lamb.  The reality is, it’s sad.

But what REALLY makes me sad are the reasons Lamb disclosed in the first place: 7.5 million reasons.

The couple explained that there were three people who said they would expose the affair if the couple’s ministry did not pay them $7.5 million. (CNN Belief Blog)

Pretty heartening, eh?  So if not for the blackmail… no disclosure.

And maybe it’s none of our damn business.  No maybe: it really isn’t.  Except that when Lamb and his wife Joni spout their simplistic, family-values (anti-gay) formula for Christian living (and Christian prosperity!) it becomes our business, because they’re selling a product that’s an illusion.  False advertising.

Don’t buy it.

Don’t judge Marcus Lamb for being a hypocrite.  We’re all hypocrites.  None of us lives up to our ideals.  But not all of us are getting rich off the desperate religiously-charged expectations of the masses, dutifully sending financial donations to a massive non-profit staffed by millionaires.


Here’s a photo of a bunch of millionaires, all together.  They look happy and successful.

The Least of These: Who Are YOURS?

This Sunday I’m giving a sermon (first time at our current church) on “The Least of These” from Matthew 25.

Reverend?

So I’m preaching this Sunday for a church in Portland I haven’t spoken at before, and…

… perhaps they assumed my actual credentials (shhhh… I’m not ordained – except by the State of Nevada).