Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
May 29, 2005
Matthew 7:21-29
The Kathy Mattea song: That’s All the Lumber You Sent is played
I’m not sure I completely like the theology of this song – the idea of works righteousness – that God rewards us according to what we do in this life, that each day we are either adding to or detracting from points we have earned on some great heavenly scoreboard. I suspect Martin Luther would hate that song. It doesn’t leave much room for God’s grace. It almost makes my works – all the lumber I’m sending - more important than God’s grace.
And yet…I share it with you because the repeated refrain, that’s all the lumber you sent, is not a bad commentary on our text for today. Just what building materials are we using as we construct our lives each and every day? What, or better yet, who are we allowing to shape our lives? What kind of foundation have we laid down to support us in both good times and bad?
Lucy is looking into a mirror, admiring herself, as Charlie Brown speaks: “..And besides, never forget that beauty is only skin deep.” Lucy responds, “I deny that! My beauty is not only on the surface, it goes down deep, layer after layer after layer.” As she returns to her mirror she says, “Yes sir! I have very thick beauty!”
And so Jesus tells a parable of the wise man who built his house on solid rock, contrasting this construction with the foolish man who built a house on sand. When the storms inevitably came and the wind howled and the rain beat against the two houses, the house built on sand was no match for the storms, “and great was its fall.”
Lucy insists that her beauty goes deep. That may not be too solid of a foundation, but I think she is on the right track. Because Jesus wants us to think about what goes deep in our lives, what holds us together, again what supports us when the storms begin to blow?
A pastor writes, “Not too long ago I was with a woman who is in the middle of a tough battle with a severe neurological disorder . Much of the day she is in great pain. She has endured a dozen surgeries. In my conversation with her, I marveled at her positive disposition. Despite it all, she continues to fight, continues to live with dignity and grace. How can she do it?
‘It’s like I prepared for this fifty years ago,’ she said. ‘My mother took me to church every Sunday. We had a difficult time by most people’s standards. But at church I was told that God loved me, that God had plans for me, that God would stand beside me no matter what. I never really needed to draw on any of that until now. I’m so grateful that, when it came time for me to reach down and show what I was made of, I had something to show for it.’” A house, a life, built on a solid foundation.
“Everyone who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on a rock…” Who hears my words and acts on them. As one theologian has said, “Of course Jesus isn’t talking about constructing a house. He is talking about building a life. Hearing these words, Jesus’ moral instruction, and acting upon it, making it a part of your life, is the rock, the solid foundation upon which to build. No storm can shake such a life.” Hearing and acting – building a life. Are we ready for that?
We are going through some crazy times in this country. There are a lot of self-proclaimed guardians of our moral life running around out there, many of them in the halls of Congress, telling us what we need to do to be a morally righteous people and nation. They know what it will take to save us, and are not shy about telling us, even using legislation to enforce their version of morality. But as I listen to them, it seems to me that what they are insisting on is really a rather cheap and easy morality. What I hear them saying is that if we can just get our kids to recite a rote prayer in school every day, post copies of the Ten Commandments on every public building in sight, and legislate against abortions and gay marriage, then we will be a more moral country. Is that true? Will a law or a list or a prayer make me a more moral person? When the state of Kansas gets evolution out of its schools will I be a more moral person? When any number of states outlaw gay marriage and deny domestic partner benefits, even as they post the Ten Commandments in the courthouse, will I be a moral person? I wish it were that easy. But they are selling us a bill of goods. It isn’t that easy.
Interestingly, you don’t hear any Jewish voices crying out for the Ten Commandments to be posted everywhere. I have read that the Talmud, that great collection of Jewish words and wisdom, insists that the Torah – the first five books of the Bible which include the Ten Commandments – cannot be read alone, but only by sitting at the feet of a good rabbi. Every Jew knows that it isn’t enough just to memorize the words or post the list. That’s the easy way out. Read it with a rabbi. Learn from the rabbi how to live the words, how to make them part of your daily life. Observe what the master does, and go and do likewise. Then you are on your way to being a more moral person.
The story is told of a Mennonite farmer who was confronted by a pair of young, traveling evangelists. The well-meaning and earnest young men made their way down the long, dusty drive to the farmer’s two-story wooden home. They stepped up on the front porch, knocked on the door and waited. After a few moments the door opened and the old farmer stepped out onto the porch. “What can I do for you?” he asked. With utmost confidence one of the young evangelists asked, “Brother, are you saved? If you were to die tonight do you know for certain that you would go to heaven?”
The farmer thought about this for a few moments, then asked the young men to wait on the porch. He disappeared inside the house and in a few minutes returned carrying a pen and paper. Without speaking he began making a list. When he had finished he handed the list to the young men and said, “Here is a list of the ten people in this community who know me the best. Some are my friends and a few are my enemies. They would know better than I whether or not I am saved, whether or not I will enter the kingdom of heaven. Go and ask them.” He may not have been a professional theologian, but that farmer understood Jesus’ parable
Those young evangelists wanted the farmer to give them the right words. Instead he offered them his life. Go and ask some other people about me. Ask them the kind of lumber I have used to build my life. Ask them if I have taken the life and teachings of Jesus and used them as a foundation upon which to build. Then you’ll know the condition of my soul. The great theologian and champion of social justice, Robert McAfee Brown, once wrote, “The fatal error is to read the Bible as a spectator rather than as a participant; to make the faulty assumption that we can sit in a box seat watching the drama when actually we are on the stage taking part in the drama.”
Remember the context for this parable of the two houses? It comes at the end of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Matthew uses it as a conclusion for this marvelous block of teachings: blessed are you when you work for peace, when you show mercy to another; remember that you are the salt of the earth and the light of the world; do not be afraid to go the second mile or turn the other cheek; don’t be so quick to judge others before taking a long hard look at your own life; in fact, do unto others as you would have them do unto you. And trust God with your life. Don’t be so darned worried and anxious about everything. “And everyone who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house upon a rock…”
A college chaplain shares this conversation between two students about religion and faith. Toward the end of the conversation, one student said, “Well, I’m not so sure about religion, but you are a Catholic. Whatever works best for you, right?”
The other student responded, “You don’t know much about Catholics, do you? It’s not working for me. It’s working on me. It’s hard being a Catholic. The church makes you change, become a different person than you once were. It’s working on me.”
I believe that is exactly what this parable says about the life and teachings of Jesus. Embracing our sacred individualism, we like to think – especially in the West County – that if left to our own devices, we can become pretty good and moral people. But then Jesus comes along and says, “I don’t want to leave you to your own devices.” I want to shape you, change you, transform you. I want my words to work on you, to show you another way; I want my life to be the foundation upon which you build your life.” He isn’t interested in wise and prudent and moral words. He wants wise and prudent and moral lives, lives that are authentic expressions of Christ’s love for all the world.
David C Hockett, a United Methodist pastor in North Carolina, pretty well sums up our parable with these words: “Our world is filled with propagandists and pundits, people filled with lofty but empty words. Jesus warns us against the Church being a place of empty words and instead calls us to be a community in and through which the Word is made flesh. The poor, the lost, the broken, the sick, the neglected, the forgotten, do not need more empty rhetoric…They need a living, breathing community to which they can turn and see the Lordship of Christ being lived out…They need a community of love and hope whose words and deeds witness to the One who is Lord of all creation. In a word, they need us to be true disciples who not only confess with our lips and believe in our hearts, but who also walk in the way to leads to life. Christian discipleship is as much about what we do as what we say, as much about the character of our lives as it is about the words on our lips.”
Or, as St. Francis frequently reminded his followers: “Preach the Gospel at all times and, if necessary, use words.”