On Notice

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

April 28, 2013

On Notice

John 13:31-35

Head down, eyes focused,

the mind absorbed,

so many things to do.

How to juggle everything on the list:

the job, the commute, the family,

the schoolwork, the shopping,

the cleaning,

the appointments;

bills to be paid,

calls to be returned,

Facebook pages to be updated.

A life overstuffed.

Sabbath rest?  -

who has time for that?

We race through life,

moving through each day with purpose,

yet feeling overwhelmed,

falling into bed exhausted each night,

then up again the next morning,

to face another full list.

We’re so busy that we often fail to notice,

notice the world around us,

as we text, tweet,

drive, work,

sleep, eat.

Oh yes, we notice some things.

Who hasn’t noticed the pollen

as it coats our cars,

attacks our eyes,

and gives everyone a case of the “sneezles”.

We notice the driver who cuts us off;

the rude clerk at the store;

the boss’s increasingly short temper;

the children who never seem

to put their clothes in the hamper;

the parents whose health

seems to grow increasingly fragile.

Who among us has made the time, though,

to step back and notice,

truly notice,

that it is spring,

that the world is re-awakening,

even after a mild winter;

that the birds are singing,

the grass is greening,

the leaves are blossoming.

How many of us have stopped to take in the fact

that God’s creation is hard at work

washing away winter’s grit and grime,

and dressing itself in the boldest colors.

We need to give ourselves permission to notice,

“to let ourselves out into the world with all our senses,”

our hearts leading us,

taking it all in,

listening,

seeing,

smelling,

sensing;

computers and cellphones off,

earbuds out.

Mind and heart together, alert.

(Verlyn Klinkenborg)

“Look around,” God says to us.

“Look around and see the majesty,

see the glory,

see the beauty I have created,

beauty I invite you to share,

beauty I invite you to help me tend.”

You and I should not let the poets be the only ones who notice.

But perhaps the poet Robert Browning can help us

to stop,

to open our eyes and minds and hearts

as we take notice

using his words as the lens through which we look:

“The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his Heaven –

All’s right with the world!”

When we work at noticing,

we tend to slow down,

we tend to grow calmer,

more patient.

When we step back and notice,

we are more likely to remember that God is in charge,

not you, not me,

not this group or that,

that God is in charge.

Still, we do struggle to slow down and take notice,

for fear that slowing down will cause us to lose out,

miss an opportunity,

fall behind.

But we need to slow down,

just as we need to Sabbath,

because slowing down helps us to sync our lives

ever more completely with God through Christ,

even if slowing down doesn’t help us sync with our apps.

We should slow down and notice

because God notices.

God notices all things.

As our Lord Jesus teaches us,

God notices every hair on every head,

every sparrow in every tree.

(Luke 12:7)

One of the things we notice when we slow down

is the amazing outpouring of goodwill and help

that always seems to come rushing out after disasters:

Boston, Newtown;

explosions in Texas,

floods in New Jersey and New York;

even disasters in the farthest part in of the world:

the collapse of a building in Bangladesh,

men and women killed as they stitched clothing

for you and me.

Even when they aren’t in our backyard,

even when they don’t involve anyone we know,

we take notice of the pain,

the suffering, the anguish,

and we feel called to respond,

respond with food, clothing,

medical supplies, blankets,

prayer shawls,

even just prayers.

We turn from our busy lives,

turn from lives focused inward,

lives focused on ourselves,

our own wants, needs and desires,

and we turn outward,

concerned for the needs of others.

This is what we are called to do, of course, as Christians,

the life we are called to live by our Lord Jesus Christ.

We are called to lives turned outward,

focused on serving,

working for the good of others,

the good of the larger community,

lives working for the common good.

This kind of life is antithetical, though,

to what our society teaches us.

It was the novelist Tom Wolfe who first used the term

“The Me Decade” to describe the 1970s,

and I don’t think we’ve had a decade since

that couldn’t compete with the 1970s to claim that term.

The term “the common good” doesn’t sit well with us

in a society that focuses so much on the individual.

Use the term, “common good”

and we probably should brace for someone to condemn it

as suspiciously socialist.

But John the Baptist told those gathered

on the banks of the Jordan,

“Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none,

and whoever has food must do likewise.”

(Luke 3:11)

In the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament,

we read of the formative days of the Christian community,

when “All who believed were together

and had all things in common;

they would sell their possessions and goods

and distribute the proceeds to all,

as any had need.”

(Acts 2:4)

Building community,

seeking the common good,

the good of all in the community:

this is a very consistent thread that God has woven through both

Old and New Testaments.

When our ancestors in faith settled in the Promised Land,

God commanded them not to harvest every part of their fields,

but always to leave a portion for the poor.  

(Leviticus 19:9)

God instructed them to welcome the alien, the stranger,

the immigrant into the community,

“for the alien who resides with you shall be to you

 as the citizen among you.”

(Leviticus 19:33)

And to help them avoid filling their era with their own version

of “me decades”, God taught our ancestors in faith,

“Do not say to yourself,

‘my power and the might of my own hand

have gotten me this wealth.”

(Deuteronomy 8:17)

These are our lessons, too,

for all we have has come from God,

and we are called to share our resources for the good of all.

In his new book, the Reverend Jim Wallis

calls us to put a renewed focus

on this biblical call to the common good,

He captures the call well with this illustration:

“When it comes to how we are to live together

our culture and society,

I especially like the African idea of Ubuntu.

[best summarized as]

‘I am what I am because of who we all are.”

(On God’s Side, 283)

“I am what I am because of who we all are.”

I am what I am,

and you are who you are

because of who we all are together,

in community,

caring for one another,

the common good our focus

as we look after and build up one another.

This is the life we are called to live as disciples of Christ,

and we are on notice of our call

even if it seems antithetical

to almost everything we’ve learned outside of church.  

It may help us with our struggle

to remember that even the disciples

often struggled with Jesus’ teaching,

crying out in dismay,

This teaching is difficult;

who can accept it?’

(John 6:60)

We are on notice and Jesus won’t let us off the hook;

indeed, he seems to make it even more difficult with his words,

“Those who try to make their lives secure will lose it,

but those who lose their life will keep it….

 For what will it profit you

if you gain the whole world

and forfeit your life.”

(Luke 17:33;  Matthew 16:25)

Jim Wallis writes,

“The gospel of the kingdom creates

disciples with public commitments.

It spreads throughout the societies in which believers live,

changing how they treat the poor and the marginalized,

setting captives free,

seeking the worth and equality of all made in the image of God,

encouraging good stewardship of God’s creation,

redefining those around them and around the world

as their neighbors.”

(On God’s Side, 14)

Yes, Jesus’ teaching is often difficult.

But learning calculus is difficult;

learning to tango is difficult;

learning to putt out in two is difficult;

learning to make a hollandaise that doesn’t separate is difficult.  

Learning to be patient is difficult,

learning to forgive is difficult,

learning to live for the common good is difficult.

But it is the life we are called to, you and I,

as disciples of Christ,

for we are Easter people, born to new life,

new life in Christ, through Christ, and with Christ.

And the only measure of our discipleship that matters

is love – our love for one another,

our love for neighbor,

our love for all:

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples,

if you have love for one another.”

AMEN