Sept. 26, 2010
Wealth and Poverty
The Rev. Brian C. Taylor

Today might have been a good day to avoid church if you don’t want to hear about wealth and poverty. Our readings today demonstrate pretty clearly that the Bible isn’t all about orthodox doctrine, personal morality, and individual salvation. In fact, there’s more in the Bible about justice for the poor than just about anything else.

The famous evangelical pastor Rick Warren of Saddleback Church had a turning point some years ago when he came to this understanding. He realized one day that, like many evangelicals, in spite of all his years of biblical study, the issue of wealth and poverty just wasn’t on his radar. He admitted that he couldn’t think of the last time he even thought of widows or orphans, or when he last cared about the homeless. He asked himself “How on earth did I miss 2,000 verses in the Bible where it talks about the poor?” So he began to reshape his study, his preaching and teaching. And for the first time, he began significant ministries that deal directly with poverty and disease.

Today’s readings are some of these 2,000 verses. They pick up where Jesus left off last Sunday – his last words then were “You cannot serve God and wealth.” The prophet Amos starts us off this morning. He says “Alas” for those who are at ease on beds of ivory, who sing idle songs, who lounge around with wine and fine foods, but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph.

This was in the 8th century BCE, at the height of Israel’s prosperity, when the gap between rich and poor was greatest. The “ruin of Joseph” was shorthand for the suffering which this tribe endured in their poverty. The issue for Amos the prophet was not really the luxurious lifestyle of the rich, but the fact that they did not grieve over the ruin of their brothers and sisters. Like the old Rick Warren, they did not care about the widows, the orphans, or the homeless.

In the gospel, there’s the same message. Jesus tells a parable about a rich man who routinely ignores the beggar Lazarus, at his gate. Lazarus lies in misery, his sores are licked by the dogs, and he pleads for scraps of food. The rich man, who dresses in fine clothing and feasts sumptuously every day, just doesn’t care. He separates himself from the poor. And alas for him, He is not grieved over the ruin of this man. And so after his death, he finds himself just as he was in life: separated by a great chasm from the poor, separated even from Abraham and all the righteous in heaven.

The rich man pleads ignorance – “how would I have known this was so important to God?” – pleading also for his brothers who are still alive, even asking Abraham to come back from the dead as a ghost to warn them: “then they’ll pay attention,” he says. Abraham replies that if he and his brothers didn’t listen to Moses and the prophets, they wouldn’t listen to a ghost. They should have read those 2,000 verses of scripture that explain how disastrous it is to separate ourselves from our brothers and sisters in ruin. Most importantly, they should have learned to care.

But it is in our second reading that we get to the spiritual heart of the matter. In this epistle, Paul is writing to his protégé Timothy, advising him about the faith and about his ministry with the Christian community in Ephesus. He begins by acknowledging that there is great gain in combining material contentment with godliness. It is a good thing to have food and clothing. He even says that God provides us with everything for our enjoyment.

But then he makes a distinction. He says that when we cross the line from contentment to the love of money and the desire for riches above all else, when we cease caring about anything but self-fulfillment, we enter very dangerous territory.

Paul therefore advises Timothy to command the wealthy in Ephesus not to be haughty, to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share. Paul advises this for their own good, for he says that when the wealthy share their blessings, they will take hold of the life that really is life. So the issue for Paul is not wealth itself, but the obsession with material comfort that separates us from connectivity and the generous life that really is life.

A real estate agent once told me that occasionally he gets out-of-town buyers who ask him to shield them from “bad” neighborhoods. They tell him where they will be working, and they ask him to find them a gated community in a location that will enable them to drive to work without going through poor parts of town. They don’t want to see these people. They want a great chasm to separate them from the poor. They are not grieved over the ruin of the poor. And they are separated from the life that really is life.

Maybe those who isolate themselves in their privilege are trying to avoid contact with the poor so that they won’t catch the disease of suffering. Maybe they are frustrated that they can’t fix it, and so it’s more comfortable to ignore it. Maybe they believe the delusion that misery or security are always within our own power to create – so they blame the poor for their having created their own problems, and pretend that they would never let this happen to themselves.

The issue in those 2,000 verses of the Bible is that God cares for everyone, and if we are to be grounded in God, if we are to hope for a faithful, spiritual life, we, like God, need to learn how to care, how to grieve over those who suffer, and to do something on their behalf. They are our brothers and sisters in God.

This caring is not the exclusive domain of the poor or the middle class or the rich. There are poor people who don’t give a damn about those who are poorer than they are, and there are rich people who care deeply for the poor.

This caring is not the exclusive domain of either of our political parties, either. Democrats who care about the poor emphasize investment in underserved communities, so that they might benefit from privileges that others take for granted, privileges that help all of us do better in life. Republicans who care about the poor emphasize support for small businesses that employ the poor, so that they might build better lives for themselves. They may have different strategies, but the best in both parties care.

But whether we are rich or poor, Democrat or Republican, what is it that causes us to either care or not care about our less fortunate brothers and sisters? What caused Rick Warren to change his heart, and start directing his ministry towards poverty and disease?

I believe that the thing that creates this concern in us is proximity to those who suffer. After all, it is relationship with anyone that helps us see them as a real person, and not just an abstraction. Relationships with people create a concern for them. That’s why the rich man in the gospel didn’t have it – there was a chasm between him and Lazarus, in this life and in the next. That’s why the home-seeker who desperately wants to avoid bad neighborhoods doesn’t have it: there is a chasm between her comfortable life and the grittier life of others.

On the other hand, when we risk relationship with the poor, we move out of our myths about them, understand them, have some compassion for them, and then want to do something for them. Rick Warren began to hang out in third world villages and homeless shelters in L.A. Bono and Bill Gates do the same. Some of you are rubbing shoulders with poor people at the Food Pantry, Albuquerque Opportunity Center for the homeless, Albuquerque Interfaith, through friendships or fellow members of this parish.

In these kinds of settings, when we sit down and listen to real people, we come to understand that they are not lazy or stupid. They may have had a horribly abusive upbringing, a total lack of advantages, untreated physical or mental illnesses, or a run of very bad luck. And they may have made some very bad choices, as we all have.

In hearing these stories, in coming to know them as real people who love their children, who hope for security and good health, who are sinners trying to learn from their mistakes, we see that they are just like us. They are our brothers, our sisters. We feel for them. And in feeling for them, how could we ever turn our backs on them?

In relationship, we will not come up with perfect policies and programs that will end all poverty. But this isn’t the point. The poor, Jesus said, you will always have with you. The point is, do I consider them my brothers and sisters? Do I know them? Do I feel anything for them? Do I care?

The lesson from scripture today is that God wants all his children, rich and poor, privileged and unprivileged, to be connected enough to care about one another. For it is then, as Paul said, that we take hold of the life that really is life.

The Rev. Daniel Gutierrez
September 19, 2010

As a child, I had many heroes.  I wanted to throw like Roger Staubach and hit like Mickey Mantle.  I devoured books on the American History.  In my room were pictures of Jesus, George Washington, and Daniel Webster.  Despite these heroes, other than my father, there was only one person that I wanted to be like.

Through a few words, guess who it is.  You are watching tv and on one channel, politicians are attacking each other. On the local news, murder, assault and a failing school.  The national news is rife with stories on terrorism, disasters, war, corporate greed.  Reality shows depressingly mirror our society, so infomercials then become our comfort.  You too can have a better look and life for four easy payments of 29.95.  

You hear a voice saying “You are special.  I like you just the way you are.  Won’t you be my neighbor?”  I wanted to be Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rogers Neighborhood was a children’s show that taught life lessons to adults and children alike.  A yellow flashing traffic light – reminded you to slow down.  Life’s formality gave way to sweaters and sneakers.  You would be transported to make believe by a red trolley.  I can still hear the voices of King Friday, Lady Elaine and my personal favorite - Daniel the striped tiger.

Mr. Rogers never spoke over children, he spoke to them.  He dealt with issues such as death, divorce, and anger, fear, and he dealt with them honestly. He validated our emotions.   He welcomed everyone and told us that we were important and unique.  He made people feel that they were special, despite what they been told.

In my tumultuous childhood, I can remember anxiously awaiting 4 o’clock.  In found solace in his show.  I needed to hear I was special and someone liked me just for me.  That constant message of acceptance made me feel that everything would eventually be ok.  For 30 minutes, there was a calming of the storm that raged around me.

Despite this message, he became the object of ridicule.  In our jaded society, the message of acceptance and love became the object of mockery.   A columnist wrote that he was filling kids with psychobabble and he should teach responsibility.  Another wrote that his message made kids weak, and did not prepare children to be tough for the rough real world.   The world is not a nice place full of nice people who care and take care of you.  Despite the criticism, he never changed his message.

I imagine Jesus heard the same derision.    Jesus, why are you are filling all these people with psychobabble.  This talk of the poor being important, everyone being welcome at God’s table.  It is nonsense, not the real world.  God judges and condemns – God does not love.  Jesus never changes his message.

He uses the parable of a servant who looks out for himself by misleading and defrauding his master.  When his actions are uncovered, he is rewarded.  The master appreciates the conniving.  Could be Wall Street, Main Street or Capital Hill 2010.  Jesus tells them - you are correct, this message does not make sense if your priorities are wealth, power or self.  

If your overriding concern is making money, you might not be open to spending time with people who won’t advance your career.  You won’t take time off, and you might see other people as tools, or obstacles toward success.  You may start to see everything as revolving around your quest for success.  Eventually work becomes a God.  Few people today believe in multiple Gods, many more believe in newer Gods – like wealth, status or power.  We are influenced by what we know; we become what we are influenced by.  

If we know rejection, it is easy to reject others. If we know abuse, we may abuse.
If we were never loved, how can we love someone else?   And how we see ourselves affects how we see others and God.   I read:   "If your notion of a personal God leads you to denigrate other people or to denigrate their lives and beliefs, then just question it.   Ask yourself, are you really listening to God or to yourself."

Jesus asks us who we are willing to listen to.  He then places the responsibility one each one of us.  God never changes, so who are you willing to listen to?  The world or God? He then reminds us what is essential.  Jesus tells us that our ultimate success, accomplishments, the outcome will take care of itself if we seek God first.  If the world becomes smaller and the Lord larger.  If we seek God, the message of love and trust, begins to make perfect sense.  More than a silly message, it become life.  

We start to understand what is essential.  A little four year old boy whose mother and dad had just brought home a baby sister pleaded with his parents to have some private time with this baby; in fact, he insisted.  The parents were concerned; maybe he was planning to hurt the baby.  Finally, they said ok.  He walked into the baby’s room, and the mother and father watched from outside.  The little boy looked at the baby, and said “tell me what heaven was like, I’m beginning to forget.”

Mr. Rogers ministry was to children.  Many do not know that he was an ordained Presbyterian minister.   He never preached, or said the word God.  He did not have to.  Parents and Children alike received the same elegant, simple message:  Be yourself, love each other, be patient, be kind. He reminded us that we are dependent upon one another. Helping children grow into caring adults, begins with being caring adults.

He understood what was essential.  In fact he kept a quote on his desk from the book the Little Prince.  It said:  “what is essential is invisible to the eye.”    Like that young boy attempting to remember the essentials of heaven, we must strain to hear that call beyond the clanging of this world.    

Mr. Rogers once said that with children, you do not have to talk about the weather.  If a child feels safe, very often what happens to be on his or her mind will just spill out.  He recounted that a little boy in Chicago once said to him – “I do not wear diapers at night anymore.”  

Last week two 4 year olds, reminded me of what was essential in the world.  Jordan, was receiving communion and as I said the Body of Christ she smiled and asked me– “did you see my red boots?”   Yes Jordan, they are beautiful.  Later than evening, Ava ran over and hugged.  She asked if I was hungry, offered me the cookie in her hand and said,  it is not dessert it was food – eat it Fr. Daniel.  Thank you Ava.  

They know the important things are invisible to eye.  And when we seek God, we realize what is essential - sitting around a table with family or friends.  To sit in wonder at the base of the Sandia and take in the breadth of creation.  Laying on your back and stare at the stars in amazement.  To laugh, as your animals play, and knowing that they truly know what is like to live in the moment.  To sit in silent and feel the divine, and then  whisper “thank you Lord.”

When we seek God first, we do not have to position ourselves in front of the powerful or trudge along in this cruel world, we can tell someone they are special or that they are perfect the way they are.   We can read the bible, and understand it is a book of love.  We can cry as we understand the meaning of community within the word communion, or feel God’s healing love as we sing Amazing Grace.

When you think about it, nothing can really compete with that feeling when you are close to God.  There is a trust, a constancy, a feeling that we are special just the way we are, that there is no one in the world just like you.   We can talk to God about our problems, our dreams, our new red boots or whether a cookie is really food.  The clutter leaves and we remember what is essential is invisible to the eye.

Mr. Rogers had a song, and I can imagine Christ singing: I’m taking care of you, Taking good care of you, For once I was little too, Now I take care of you.


* Special Note of Thanks to Amy Hollingsworth for her book:  The Simple Faith of Mr. Rogers:  Spiritual Insights from the World’s Most Beloved Neighbor.  This book is a gem and I borrowed freely from it.  I encourage you to read it.

September 12, 2010
The Rev. Brian C. Taylor
Parish Life Sunday
16 Pentecost        Luke 15:1-10        

Recently I attended a funeral for the daughter of a colleague, a young woman who had committed suicide. She was, like all who take their own life, utterly lost inside her own private suffering. She couldn’t see any light at the end of her tunnel. She made a mockery of the common piety that “God never gives you more than you can handle,” which, by the way, is not in the Bible.

Her parents chose the gospel we just heard for the service. They were comforted by the message that God diligently searches for the lone sheep, however isolated and lost they may be. God would continue to seek out their daughter, even after her death, until she was found. And then there would be rejoicing in heaven.

While we may not be as isolated and lost as this young woman who took her life, we too are comforted by the message that God diligently searches for us, for our loved ones, when we wander. And we do wander.

Sometimes, before we even realize that we’ve strayed, we find ourselves caught in the thickets of anger, stress, worry, or self-destruction. We thrash around in the bushes of our dark little imaginary world, believing our thoughts and fears, thinking that our temporary difficulties will be permanent, blind to the light of God that surrounds us above. And we can’t see our way out.

It is comforting to know that even if we can’t see God, God sees us. No one is ever forgotten. No matter how much suffering we endure, no matter how off-center we allow ourselves to become, we are never lost to God. We may be stuck in the brambles, but God is all around, seeking us out, inviting us to return.

In a way, we actually seek ourselves. For the Holy Spirit is intertwined with our heart, mind, and soul. Within our humanity is the divine. So the part of us that is lost is sought out by the part of us that is never lost. The part of us that is confused is sought out by the part of us that has always known.

In an old song, Eric Clapton sings Everybody knows the secret; everybody knows the score. I believe that is true. On some level, perhaps below consciousness and our ability to even acknowledge it, everybody knows what’s what, namely:

Love is more important than anything, and we are happiest when we are kind. No matter what happens to us, we are held in God’s hands, and there is nothing to worry about. The world is a wondrous place, and the only appropriate response to that is gratitude and generosity. War and oppression are not the answer, and we are all better off when we are just and merciful. Everybody knows the secret; everybody knows the score.

Recently while on vacation I was reading Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and The Dharma Bums, where Kerouac wrote about this inner knowing. He said that it is “a great mysterious roar, which is the silence of wisdom, a great Shhhh reminding you of something you’ve forgotten in the stress of your days since birth.”

It is certainly possible to be deaf to the roaring silence of God’s wisdom within. But is never absent. It continually searches us out, calling us to return to our true, pure soul. Like the shepherd who diligently seeks the one lost sheep, the Spirit within never leaves us alone.

That’s why selfish people are unhappy, and malevolent people are tormented – they are hounded by the truth. Somewhere inside them, they know the score, and they also know they’re out of synch with it. But when we do return from being lost, we find life again, and there is rejoicing in heaven.

Now because it is so easy to ignore, twist, or drown out the divine wisdom within, we need external voices and reminders, too. We can’t do it alone. We need loved ones, friends, and companions who also know the score, whom we might hear more readily than we can hear our own heart.

This is the purpose of Christian community. We are here for one another so that the voice of God cannot get drowned out. Even if we are out of touch with our true, pure soul, in community there are, like billboards surrounding us, the Word of God, classes on prayer, liturgies that broadcast the truth, and other people who are finding their way home.

That’s why we do everything we do – to openly broadcast the secret that everyone already knows, but perhaps have forgotten in the stress of our days since birth. All of our worship, our education programs, spiritual direction and pastoral care, our written communication, our conversations over coffee – all of this is just a way of calling one another to remember, to return and live in the ways of God.

Today is Parish Life Sunday. Dozens of ministries will be on display. Programs of spiritual formation begin for adults, youth, and children. Fr. Daniel will be instituted, now that he has joined the paid staff part-time. The building of our Ministry Complex is done, and we will move in on Saturday. Soon after that, we will bless it with our bishop-elect Michael Vono, whose ministry ushers in a new day in our diocese. We start up another New Member Class tonight. And in a couple of weeks we will meet to discuss my sabbatical and your sabbatical time as well.

Why do we do all this? Why do we have classes, buildings, potlucks, worship, bishops and clergy, or sabbatical reflection time? And why do we ask you to support all this with your financial pledge? Just so that we can keep the machine running? No. We do it so that we can remember, and return to that which we already know. This is no small thing that we’re doing here! We’re helping one another return, again and again, to God’s ways. We’re healing and changing human lives!

I give thanks with a grateful heart for these billboards of truth that surround us. I give thanks for you, for this community, for our prayer together, for the meeting rooms in which we talk of God, for the kids and the old folks and the in-between folks, for the clergy and lay staff I work with, for our new bishop and his infectious enthusiasm, for the beautiful music we sing, for baptisms and anointings and confirmations, for the food that we give to the hungry and the recovering alcoholics who meet here, for the look in your eyes as you receive the Body of Christ at this altar, and for the money that we pledge - all so that the voice of God can continue to speak loud and clear in this place, calling each of us to return to our pure, true souls.

I need all these reminders, all these billboards, because I tend to forget. I stray away from the path of wisdom. I don’t always hear the divine voice within me calling me to return. I get lost, and I need community to point me homewards.

Today, as we celebrate our parish life and as we begin making our financial pledges for the year ahead, as we look forward to a season of new beginnings, we give thanks with a grateful heart, and together, we manage to remember what we already know. The lost are found, and there is rejoicing in heaven.

St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church   
Sunday September 5 2010 Proper 18C
Text: Luke 14: 25-33
Preacher: Christopher McLaren
Theme “If you can’t get out of it, get into it.”


If you were working for Jesus as his Public Relations officer the day he delivered this difficult sermon you might have considered it a nightmare. Jesus is finally attracting large crowds, he’s surrounded by groups of people who are deeply attracted to him and his proclamation of good news. They are eating up his preaching, calling their friends to join them with a picnic lunch and then he turns to these eager crowds and delivers a real show stopper. We’re not sure what Jesus had for breakfast that day or if someone had just told Jesus, “Look at all these people, we’re finally attracting a following, we’re becoming successful this is amazing.”

Jesus turning to the crowd and thinking I guess its time to agitate them a bit begins to preach, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father or mother, wife or children, brothers and sister, yes even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”. So much for mistaking Jesus for an epicurean or hedonist.

The crowd around Jesus gets real quiet. I can just see the quick press conference being called. His PR disciple, was that Thaddeus or John, the one with the silver tongue, stepping up to the microphones and cameras to do some damage control, “I want to explain what Jesus really meant by that rather strong statement, well he certainly did not mean to literally hate your mother and father, (though some of you may already) at least not hate like we would ordinarily think about, he meant more keeping things in proper perspective. Thank You. Jesus will be preaching less difficult parables again tomorrow after a nice hot bath and good night’s sleep.

The problem of course is that before the press conference can be called Jesus adds a few things. And another thing, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. Anybody who begins a building project without first counting the costs runs the risk of looking really stupid when he runs out of building materials and cannot finish the project, evidently like the mayor of the town we just passed through.  And another thing, A king who rushes into a war without seriously considering whether or not he has enough troops to have a chance of winning the war, runs the risk of looking rather foolish when he is begging for terms of peace and exposing his people to servitude.  Count the cost people, this isn’t some kind of happy hour show its going to cost you.  Oh, and one more thing: “You can’t be my disciple if you don’t give up everything you own” That’s it for today.  I’ll have more tough tracks for you tomorrow.

That is a seriously difficult sermon. The next verse, although it is not printed in all of your translations of the Bible is this: the large crowds were a great deal smaller after this sermon.
In some ways what is most amazing is that the sermon was kept as part of the tradition.  The writers of the gospels actually preserved the difficult sayings of Jesus and at times added to them.

What is true of Jesus is that he was never afraid to say difficult or surprising things or to use a phrase that will inevitably be misunderstood or confused. In this way he is a brilliant preacher. In essence he is saying I’m preaching the truth, I’m putting it out there and it is your job to struggle with what I am saying. Jesus doesn’t spend a lot of time explaining things or making sure that he is not misunderstood. He is not very Episcopalian. Yes, Jesus is a good preacher he doesn’t want to water down the power of his teaching. He wants to agitate you, to stir your mind and spirit. He tends to put the burden on us to puzzle out the truth to suffer a bit with his sayings.  

One of the most obvious ways of understanding this passage is as a call to discipleship. Jesus puts strong demands on anyone who would desire to follow Jesus.  The unusual demand to hate one’s family and even one’s own life is better understood by looking at the word’s meaning in the original language. The word hate that is used is a Semitic way of expressing detachment, a turning away from.  It is not intended to be the emotion filled word we experience in the unwelcome scream, “I hate you!” If that were the case this single verse in the Bible would shatter all the calls to love, to understand, to forgive, to care for others, especially one’s family (I Timothy 5:8).  

Hating one’s life is not a call to self-loathing, to throw one’s body under the bus or beg the world to trample on you. No what Jesus is calling for is that those who choose to follow him understand that loyalty to him can and will create tensions within the self and between oneself and those one loves.  In such conflicts of loyalty, Jesus requires primary allegiance. Jesus does not want you to turn back from pursuing the kingdom of God just because your family thinks that serving the poor is in bad taste or that advocating for those without a voice is a waste of your law degree. Following hard after Jesus is to be your primary concern, you highest calling and you are to do what you can to make sure that your love of family or your love of your own creature comforts or your culturally-conditioned ideas of success don’t get in the way of really doing what the spirit is speaking so strongly into your heart.  

Jesus is trying to draw us into a lively conversation that matters. He’s not interested in easy answers or neat packages. He wants us to struggle, to struggle with his words but more importantly to struggle with our lives in relationship to his words. The stories of Jesus, cut at our way of life, they challenge us and our ways at every turn. They demand that we become reflective about the way we live, the way we love, the way we spend our money, the way we acquire possessions, the way we talk about the stranger, the way we invest in our own children and others children, the way we see violence as an easy answer to problems, the way we look at other’s misfortune, the way we avoid intimacy, the way to hide behind our anger, the way we take the easy road instead of the meaningful one.

There are a lot of things one could do with this passage. One can simply ignore it completely as the lunatic and aberrant sayings of Jesus. My guess is that if you were going to select one book saying “the teaching and approach to life in this volume will be my philosophy of life, I doubt that Luke’s Gospel would be the one you chose.  Why because so much of it cuts at us too deeply in areas where we remain closely guarded and want to maintain our comfort and sense of entitlements, myself included. In so many ways the teaching of Jesus has not been tried and found wanting it has been found difficult and left untried. The passage ends with this devastating one-liner, “So therefore none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”

For me the passage connects to these powerful lines of poetry by T.S. Eliot found in The Four  Quartets:

To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.

In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.

In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.  

These words of T.S. Eliot describe the deep wisdom of conversion. Like the tough teaching of Jesus, they attempt to pull us into a life of faith, the giving of ourselves in a God-ward direction. The difficulty of the sayings is meant not to drive us away but rather to expose our deep need of God. They show us that there is a more excellent and grace filled way to live that is costly but worth every sacrifice.

In the end I believe that Jesus’ tough talk is really an invitation to intimacy with God.  Jesus is saying if you want to know me, if you want to experience the joy of following me, then you had also better be willing to risk.  The tough teaching of Jesus attempts to draw us, the listeners, into a conversation that really matters instead of one that ends with tidy answers and quick resolution.  Jesus wants us to understand our true loyalties whatever they are and in the midst of that to offer us wider and more creative ways to live. Why because they require our dispossession, our letting go of things we cling to so tightly so that we can truly receive in the freedom of discipleship in Christ. The freedom comes from truly discovering that the one thing in life that is truly worthwhile is becoming God’s friend.  

This of course is the grace that Dietrich Bonhoeffer was describing when he wrote these words: “Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a person must knock.  Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a person their life, and it is grace because it gives a person the only true life.

There is an Outward Bound slogan that reads: “If you can’t get out of it, get into it.” This is good advice for the challenging times in life. It is equally good advice for the Christian life.  Rather than try to escape the tough demands of discipleship, that messy advice about loving one’s enemies and forgiving others, we ought to get into them, take them as a call to a more adventurous intimacy with God.  The Christian life is meant to be a wild adventure. So today Jesus is saying “if you can’t get out of it, get into it.” A lively conversation between your life and God’s grace awaits and within that conversation is life itself.   Choose life.