Poolesville Presbyterian Church
11.06.11; Rev. David Williams
Every time I have ever preached this sermon, I’ve said I hate preaching it.
It’s stewardship season again, and there’s a strong tendency among many pastorly types to approach this in much the same way you’d approach that corner of your sofa where the puppy you’re puppy-sitting decided to surreptitiously go number two.
Meaning, you grimace, roll your eyes, and then go about the messy business that you’re obligated to get done, while trying not to breathe through your nose. This does not tend to make for good sermon writing.
I’m hardly the only pastor to have this problem. Many of us just don’t like talking about money. It feels grasping and materialistic. It makes us feel like we’re taking that first step on the slippery slope to televangelism.
We’re terrified that once we start talking about money, the next thing you know we’ll be standing there on the stage next to Joel Osteen, our big hair and shiny white teeth glistening in unison as we tell everyone that the Lord loves a cheerful giver, and that if you have a need, you got plant a seed, and if you want to be blessed abundantly, you have to bless this ministry abundantly. Just swipe your Visa, Mastercard, Discover, or American Express through the card-reader on the pew in front of you, brothers and sisters. Then, the money pours in like a waterfall. In the case of Osteen, we’re talking an actual waterfall, one that his congregation installed at the front of the sanctuary to remind people 1) to pour out their blessings and 2) to hurry up about it, because that water always makes them recall the three cups of coffee they had right before the service. And as that “waterfall of blessings” starts up, every drop pattering down would remind us that we’d sold out.
This week, though, I got to thinking. Why should I be so distressed by this? Do I get anxious when I’m doing other things that relate to money? When I was seven years old, and I had a dollar in my pocket, would I stress out when I went to the counter at 7-11 to buy a couple of X-Men comic books and a Snickers bar? Nope. I’d look forward to it. I'd save up especially for that purpose.
Then there the moment when that little flashing LCD starts cranking away at the bottom of my bike’s fuel gauge, telling me it’s time to get more fuel. When it comes time to fill up the five point eight gallon tank on my motorcycle, I don’t fret about that, either. Sure, gas isn’t as cheap as it once was, back in high school, when I would funnel 62 cent-a-gallon leaded gasoline into the endlessly thirsty maw of my beater 1973 Plymouth Valiant. But I know that without that gas, I can’t run the errands I need to run. Without that gas, I’m not going to be able to get where I’m going.
Sure, I could neglect it out of cheapness. Or I could ignore it, and just assume I’ll get where I’m going.
But ignoring that expenditure or putting it off always results in the same thing. You find yourself coasting to a stop, filling your helmet with choice phrases as you drift towards the shoulder, as traffic surges past you and you start wondering whether you remembered to charge your cell phone.
Fuel was the underlying metaphor in the teaching we hear from Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel today. We’ve been taking a journey through Matthew’s Gospel over the last few weeks, and we’re beginning to come to the final sequence of teaching. The section we’re in now begins at the start of chapter 23, and runs through the end of chapter 25. Some bible scholars describe it as the “Judgement Discourse,” in which Jesus tells stories and gives some declarative answers to some rather essential questions. What is valuable and good in the eyes of God? What isn’t? How will things end? What is the destiny of the rich and the self-righteous and the powerful?
Among the stories that were told to answer some of these key questions was the one heard today, which is generally known as the Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids. Let me be the first to note that this is a very parable-y parable, told for the purposes of symbolism. Some scholars argue that it doesn’t represent the typical activities of bridesmaids in the first century, any more than the movie Bridesmaids was an accurate representation of most Bridal showers. At least, I hope it wasn’t, because that’d mean there are things my wife really needs to tell me about.
Others suggest that the pattern of awaiting a bridegroom in the evening was common, and that delays were frequent, as the event dragged on and on.
Whichever way, the images presented are a call for wisdom in how we approach resources and the world...and, more importantly, the Kingdom. The parable itself is intended to indirectly describe the nature of the reign of God among us, and begins, as do many of the parables of Jesus, with the words “The Kingdom of God is like...”
Here, the issue is not just being prepared. All ten of the bridesmaids begin by being prepared, arriving with their lamps filled with oil. The five wise ones, though, remember to bring extra oil, more fuel in the event that the bridegroom is delayed.
The others? Well, they don’t quite manage to get around to it. They just assume it’ll all work itself out.
It’s a typical wisdom parable, in that there are the wise, and there are the foolish, and the wise are the ones who plan and prepare, who set aside their resources under the assumption that maybe, just maybe, it might take a little while for the bridegroom to show up. The bridegroom is, here, rather obviously intended to be Christ as the Son of Man. The bridesmaids? Well, they’re us. Do we do what we need to sustain our faith, not just in the short term, but over the long haul? Do we use our resources in such a way that if Jesus doesn’t show up tomorrow, we’re still going to be doing what we need to be doing to keep that light burning?
That, quite frankly, is what stewardship is all about, and what we need to be talking about when we talk about the needs of our fellowship moving forward into the next year. As Poolesville Presbyterian Church looks forward to 2012, the resources we commit to that journey have a tremendous amount to do with how bright our light will shine over the next year. Y’all all each got a letter, and in that letter was a request to think about giving to PPC to support it in 2012. So, assuming you’re earnestly thinking about it, here are a few things to throw into the mix.
First, as you’re looking at what you may be able to give this year, what’s most important to realize is that this is your church. The resources you give to support and sustain it are not, in a very real sense, resources that you are giving away. They are resources that you are committing to your own community, to this church, to something that is a basic and fundamental part of your life. Faith is, after all, the most radically defining element of our existence, and this community is how we together live out and develop that faith.
In that very real sense, it’s like making sure your car is gassed up and ready to go. Or prepping for that big home improvement project you’ve been telling yourself you’d do for the last ten years. What matters is that you’ve planned ahead, and provided enough for what is to come. You need oil so that your lamp will stay lit as long as it needs to stay lit.
Second, it’s not hard to see the impact of your resources and energy here. This is, rather obviously, not a large church. There is no big fat endowment. There aren’t nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine other people giving, so that what you do just disappears in the background. What you do matters in a little church. And we’re efficient. We make do. We deal with things as practically and efficiently as it can. But those resources are nonetheless necessary, and have a clear impact. Your giving is the fuel that lights and heats this buildings, and the manse, and Speer Hall. Those things don’t just magically happen on their own. The community organizations that we open our doors to here rely on that commitment. It is that same commitment that makes music and mission possible here. It is what allows PPC to be a vibrant and bright part of this community, a witness to the light that guides each and every one of us.
So consider what you can do to help prepare for the promise of this ministry in 2012. What will keep our light lit, both materially and spiritually? How will we be ready for the surprises that always, always come our way? What will insure that we are, as a community, ready throughout this next year to light the way for the grace and justice of the Bridegroom? Let’s be wise. Let's plan ahead. And let's do so boldly.
Let it be so, for you and for me, AMEN.
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