Blog: Random Thoughts on Sunday's Sermon

Kids are little angels. They have pure, childlike faith, and their innocence provides us with the voice of truth. They have yet to be corrupted by the evils of adolescence and adulthood.

Kids are little devils. They are bullies—cruel and ruthless to each other. Left alone, their social skills devolve into a vicious pecking order. They are germy and impolite.

This week I have seen both of these depictions of children in the media. When children and youth suffer, they are angels. When children and youth inflict suffering, they are hellions. We beatify some children and demonize others, depending upon the news story.

But in my experiences as a classroom teacher, mom, and minister, I have discovered that neither classification works, nor is a classification fair to our kids. Regarding a child as a little angel or a little devil robs the child of his/her personhood. Children are complex, integrated human beings with the capacity for good and evil. Today's bully may be tomorrow's victim who may be next week's hero- until a teacher comes along and labels a child. Then that child is "Bully" or "Special" or "Innocent" whether the label fits or not. And that child will tend to rise to whatever positive or negative image that is placed upon him/her.

This week we will be looking at a passage in Acts 11 where Peter learns that God has grace for all people. In the past, Peter has understood the gospel as a message meant for the people of Israel. God speaks to him in a vision and he discovers that the good news is for all people. What does that mean to our complex, developing children?

When the church views children as angels, we prevent our children from seeing the full beauty of the gospel. Do our children even need a risen Christ? If they are the picture of purity and innocence, then grace is irrelevant.

When the church views children as demons, we use the gospel as a weapon to shame our children into confessing sin and kneeling at the cross. If they are germy, nasty bullies then the hope of Jesus dissolves into the image of a taskmaster who demands obedience.

The truth is that our children are beautiful messes, just like the rest of us. They are not the image of perfection. They are not pure evil. When we leave room for the gospel to do its work in our children and in our families, something transcendent happens. Our children recognize grace when they err and hope when they succeed. They rejoice, not in their own perfection, but in the work that the Holy Spirit is accomplishing in their lives. Their hearts are convicted when they sin, but they can let go of the shame and guilt because every day is a fresh start. They are free to grow and stumble.

Just. Like. Us.

Aristotle said “the soul never thinks without an image.” Right now our souls are heavy with the gruesome and graphic images from the bombing at the Boston Marathon. The Social Media has made these images accessible and hard to forget.

But these must not be the only images with which our souls think. For if they are, all hope is lost.

Scripture points us toward other images for our souls. The book of Revelation paints a beautiful picture of what God desires and toward which God is moving us: “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away” (21:4&5).

While images of the tragedy are prevalent, there are also images of hope. In the midst of the images of the dust settling from the explosion, we saw images of people wiping the tears of those mourning.  Along side the images of the bombers fleeing, there were images of people running toward those crying and in pain.

For all those who don’t want to accept that acts of violence are just the way the world is and will always be, we must remember to continue to feed our souls with images of hope. They are there if we look for them!

Our prayers continue to be with all those who suffered loss last week.

Boston is about 215 miles from New York City. West, Texas is about 1600 miles away. Syria is about 5700 miles away. Iran is about 6,000 miles away. North Korea, 6700 miles.

Yet when I see the images of people in pain in Boston, Texas, Syria, or any other part of the world in tumult, I feel a pang of pain in my own heart. We don’t have to be related. We don’t have to be friends. What is that? What gives us the ability to empathize with people we have never met? And, whatever it is, why do some individuals lack this empathy? What makes them capable of destroying lives by violence?

Last year, I was walking my son to his kindergarten class when a new little friend of ours joined us. Her name is Jaylen and she is biracial. Jaylen really loves to lavish attention on my daughter, who is Ethiopian.

Another little girl approached us. “I didn’t know you had a little sister! She is so cute.”

Jaylen replied, “She’s not my sister.” Then she paused.

“But she’s my sister in God.” And then she pointed to my son. “And this is my brother in God.” Then at me, “And this is my mom in God.”

I looked around at all the kids on the playground and thought, yes. Yes, I am. This is what community is about. This is what adoption is about. This is what parenting is about. I am your mother.  You are my daughters and sons.

Early Christians called each other “brother” and “sister” and the tradition continues today. Our faith reminds us that genetic ties are not what make us family. We feel (a fraction of) the pain of our brothers and sisters across the globe because we know that we are all connected. We know that God loves us all. We know that even though miles separate us, God is still as close as our very breath.

So as we live and breathe today, may we join with God in redemptive acts. Evil does not have the last word for our family.

Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it. – Helen Keller

But if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. I John 1:7

We always talk about people or organizations that have “it,” that intangible quality that helps them succeed. However, we’re never quit sure what “it” is. We just know it when we see it.

The problem is that if we don’t know exactly what “it” is, it makes it very difficult to cultivate “it” in our professions or organizations.

In the life of the church, I think we can name what “it” is. I was thinking about this in relation to the story of Jesus’ third appearance to his disciples after the resurrection (John 21:4-8).

The disciples were in a boat fishing, and they see Jesus standing on the shore. Peter is so excited to see him that he jumps into the water and swims toward Jesus. This is very surprising. One would think that Peter would want to hide in shame because just before the resurrection, Peter disowned Jesus on three occasions. But there was something about Jesus that drew Peter toward him. Peter knows that Jesus will see him for who he really is, and he will be embraced, loved and forgiven.

I think that churches who have “it” are those who are like Jesus: they are places where people can show up and be seen for who they are, and know there is a place for them. Churches who have “it” are safe places to be ourselves, not places to pretend to be someone or something we’re not.