Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
June 12, 2005
Matthew 9: 35-38
For many years, author, Ann Lamott, has been an active member of St. Andrew Presbyterian Church in Marin County. The church is located in Marin City, long a pocket of poverty in this affluent area. In her newest book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, she talks about her decision to start a Sunday School at St. Andrew, an appropriate topic on this Christian Education Sunday. Says Lamott, “When we moved into our new church, which had a nursery and two classrooms, word got out in the community that a new Sunday School had started and children started arriving. Soon we had eleven kids: four black, four white, two Mexicans, and one Asian – reflecting the make-up of our church. I announced in church that I would take the children after the children’s sermon, and that we would be needing adult volunteers. We took the children to a classroom, gave them each a box of juice and some corn chips, and tried to teach them about God’s love – about the beauty that enlivens our hearts, that awakens and welcomes us…Usually, at the end of the hour, one child had been in tears.
“It turned out that I did not like children, or at any rate, they made me extremely nervous and I had almost nothing to share with them, except that Jesus loved them, and I did too, even when I was in a bad mood. I had imagined a wacky sort of rainbow love-fest. I had not counted on so many minor injuries. For example, I had hoped we could throw around a beach ball while we memorized a line of scripture. But the kids had the attention spans of fruit bats, and the boys would throw the ball too hard at one another, as if playing dodge ball. I quickly switched to “God is love,” but the children could barely remember that, either, and wanted it to be their turn only so they could try to hurt others with the beach ball. “God is love,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Finally, three adults came to help, all middle-aged white women. This was sort of frustrating, but one of the immutable laws of being human is that the people who show up are the right people. We met every few weeks. We figured out that the only things that worked were a short Bible story, the juice boxes, and art, so we stuck with those.
“People from church made sandwiches for us every week, peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat, and brought bags of Doritos and fruit, and prayed for us. We got by, but it was hard. Some of the kids were needy and vulnerable and depressed…Some were wild. We did not exclude anyone, because Jesus didn’t. On bad days, I could not imagine what he had been thinking. But I could always feel Jesus in the room, encouraging us in every way.
“We kept lurching forward. It reminded me of driving through the rain to do an errand in the rural parts of Marin. You drive worriedly through poor visibility on a slippery surface, and you think you’re heading to one place, for a certain efficient reason. But you space out for a while, and there’s slippage in the sky, and all at once a long, low beam of sun slants through.”
“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” Anyone here today feel inspired to work in our Sunday nursery or church school? Anyone feeling called to be a youth leader? How about singing in the choir? Dare I ask…anyone feel called to increase your financial support of the church? (sorry, I couldn’t resist) “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” In our text, Jesus is talking to the twelve disciples. He is giving them instructions. But make no mistake about it, he is also talking to us.
Listen to what Barbara Brown Taylor has to say about this text: “Next to the calling of the disciples, I expect that Matthew’s story about their sending forth is one of the most confrontational stories in all the Bible. Can you imagine? There you are, perfectly content to be a follower, when Jesus comes home all worn out one day with his hair hanging in his face and his clothes ringed with sweat and dirt. He looks around at those of you who have been with him all along and says, ‘The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few. I need some help, and I’m nominating you!’ Then he starts calling names: ‘Jim and Bill, Nancy and Joan….here’s what I need you to do: preach the kingdom, heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the outcasts, cast out demons. Boy, do I need a weekend off. You all go and have a good time. I can’t wait to hear the stories you bring back. Now get out of here! Go! Go!’”
Concludes Taylor, “It does not happen exactly like that at church, but it happens all the same. At the end of every service, while the last word of the last hymn is still ringing in the air, the word is spoken: ‘Go forth! Go forth in the name of Christ! Go in peace to love and serve the Lord, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit!' These are not words for consumers of God’s love. These are words for the providers.” Folks just like us…called to be providers of God’s love to the world.
This past week, as I was reflecting on this text, a name from our church’s past re-emerged…J.L. Attebury. He called – he and his wife are moving to Vancouver, WA. Almost single-handedly, J.L. forever changed our summer apple pie sale. For years, we sold pies by the side of the road, many of those pies baked in the home ovens of church members. I can remember Naida Johnson carefully weighing each pie on a scale. We sold them according to weight. It was an OK fund-raiser, but not huge. Then J.L. moved to town, and joined our church. He observed one apple pie sale, then came to me and others with a proposal. He had worked for years for Kentucky Fried Chicken, had been a franchise owner. He might be able to get a hold of a couple of used convection ovens. We could have the ovens for free. All we would have to do is connect the gas. We thought about it and decided to go ahead. And the pie sale was forever changed. We went from a few hundred pies to over 1600 pies; from maybe a thousand dollars for our camp fund to eight, nine, or ten thousands dollars. I’ll never forget walking into Fellowship Hall on the Saturday afternoon after our first pie sale with the new ovens. There was J.L. talking with Ellen Stillman about improvements we could make the next year…and we did! Amazing the difference one committed, caring, faithful person can make.
“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” Don’t tell me you cannot make a difference in the church. Don’t tell me you cannot make a difference for the cause of Christ in the world. Ann Lamott is a talented author, but she knew nothing about teaching Sunday School. But there was a need and she truly felt called to fill it, even if it meant not much more than sandwiches, juice, art projects and assuring the children that God loves them, even when they are terrible and you don’t care if you never see them again. Will they remember the content taught on Sunday mornings? I doubt it. Will they remember the woman who tried to share God’s love with them? You bet they will.
A convection oven as a tool of God’s love? Not likely, until you think about the additional thousands of dollars in church camp scholarships that oven has enabled us to give. J.L. Attebury has touched lives he will never know.
Jesus’ words are addressed to us – to us – ordinary, everyday people, struggling with our own issues and doubts and uncertainties as we walk the often not clearly marked path of discipleship. In the words of Dean W. Bucalos, a Disciples of Christ minister, “Jesus knew that for the kingdom of God to become a reality, people – God’s people - had to be the ones to share it and to show it… Then, and now, the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few. The labor force needs the whole people of God, supporting, encouraging, and consoling one another; working and sharing and living together; showing the world what God’s grace and mercy and compassion look like in the flesh.”
A young schoolteacher was driving home from work when a driver crossed over into her lane and hit her head on. Her husband, a man of prayer, took up a vigil at her bedside in the hospital. For weeks she lay in a coma, lingering somewhere between life and death. One day, when he was allowed, the young man went to visit the man, who was in the same hospital, whose carelessness had nearly killed his wife. Deep in anxiety and fear, still uncertain whether or not his wife would live, the young man forgave the driver for what he had done to his wife. Before the young man could leave, a man in the next bed asked if he could speak with him about God. He said that if the power of God could breathe through such pain and bring forgiveness and hope, then that was a God he wanted to know.”
Just an ordinary guy, seeking to live out his faith in the most difficult of situations. Not trying to prove he is more religious than anyone else, not going door to door, not suggesting that his truth is the only truth. No, simply trying to live out, as authentically as he can, the love and mercy he has found in God. Hang in there. Don’t give up. Because sometimes, as Ann Lamott discovered, even when our efforts don’t seem to be making any difference whatsoever, when we least expect it, the clouds part, and a long, low beam of sunlight breaks through.