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From The First Baptist Church in America pulpit
Providence, Rhode Island – August 17, 2008
“The Nuisance of Belonging” (Matthew. 18:15-20)
Dr. Dan Ivins, preaching

Today’s text is another one of a string of stories in Matthew’s Gospel, where the non-violent Jesus is violent toward evil-doers. It exposes how the tensions of discipleship weakened the faith community from the earliest days, because there are people in the church who’re every bit as ornery as we are. Without a doubt, Jesus had to moderate constant conflict, with an unruly bunch of fishermen. Throw in a tax collector and a zealot, plus the Zebedee boys and it’s quite a mix. I don’t think it was meant to be literally, followed precisely as prescribed.

Jesus told lots of stories, because they create a connection between human beings. They remind us that we’re not alone and provide a path along which we can move forward. In Matthew Chapter 18, he teaches about the importance of Christian community. Church is not about individualism or privacy. It’s a communal affair that entails the nuisance of belonging. Nor does a successful church necessarily happen with big numbers. “Two or three gathered in his name” is all it takes. That’s when he said he’d be there. Not when we’re off by ourselves, feeling sanctimonious. Or in the midst of huge throngs.

More important than the numbers game, Jesus thought of us as brothers and sisters, to remind us that, though different, we belong to one family. There’s nothing better when families work right. And there’s nothing worse when they don’t. Being in community is how God teaches some important lessons, especially to the self-sufficient, who think they need no one. Church isn’t something you’re born into. You have to consciously join to belong. Therein lies the rub.

Belonging has its responsibilities. We learn to share with others and work together and take care of each other. Coming together is the beginning. Staying together is progress. Working together is success. Living together before we’re fit to live with, that’s when the sparks fly. Belonging to a family smoothes our rough edges by making us bump up against each other, like rattling the dice before they’re tossed. Most importantly if we didn’t belong to something bigger than ourselves and our oversized egos, how can we learn that we can’t always get our way? Or the world doesn’t revolve around our wishes? Belonging forces us to compromise, to give up some things we want, so others can have what they want. Belonging can be a nuisance that way. Nobody lives in isolation. But its part of what it means to be human.

Another thing about living in community, is you better know how to fight; and develop a backbone. But it doesn’t have to be a crowbar. Especially if God gave you brothers and sisters to practice on. I’m the oldest of three from my original family. Five years between each. And yeah, we practiced on each other a lot. We did it all, wrestling, gotcha-last, threw rocks, and got some black eyes and bloody noses from it.

Sometimes I’ go across the line and hurt my brother. It was overkill because I was bigger than him. I mean I wanted to hit him but not hurt him, you know? So I felt sorry for him and we’d calla truce, forgetting our differences and forgiving each other for the mean things we did in our family growing up.

Those experiences are whey I say belonging to a family and working in a mental institution was the best training I got for being a pastor of a Baptist church. Not everybody can be a chaplain in a mental hospital. But we all came from some kind of family. And every family that’ll admit it, has dysfunctional times, which we carry-over with us into the church family. Organizations don’t always work right, because they’re made up of folks like us.

Some families are like reformatories, where rules are more important than people. And the first rule of engagement is silence. Don’t talk about ill feelings or anything unpleasant. Never, ever air your dirty laundry in public. If you’ve got a problem with somebody, keep it to yourself. Because harmony, or even the illusion of harmony is all that matters. More important than being honest. More important than you.

Jesus went out of his way to teach that the Church family, doesn’t work that way. Then he set up a healing paradigm: if you’ve got a problem with somebody, talk to them about it. And if that doesn’t work, go back and try again one more time. But take somebody with you, to rebuild the relationship. And if that doesn’t work, well then they get the ol’ boot! That can be very intimidating, which is why nobody does it. But it’s a story, not meant to be taken literally, but the truth of it seriously.

Couple of things about Jesus. First he puts the onus on the one who’s been wronged. And more importantly, he’s not as interested in who’s right or wrong as he is church unity. Jesus thinks church members ought to listen to each other. But when the doors of communication are shut, we’re not to pretend like nothing happened. There is such a thing as a lost cause (see Matthew 25:1-13). Jesus was blunt: “If you are not welcomed or listened to, then shake the dust off your feet and move on.” (Matthew 10:14).

When only one is willing to communicate, it’s like trying to light a fire with a pile of wet sticks. It doesn't matter how hot the flame is, what you need is something that'll burn. All that’s left is to “shake the dust.” Because the only thing worse than losing a brother or sister is pretending nothing’s wrong in the family, allowing that to fester the fellowship, without which a church is not a church.

Most churches opt for the easy way out. Rather than “shake the dust off,” they “sweep it under the rug.” And that’s why a lot of churches are so unhealthy. A divided family of faith ends up fighting itself, instead of the real culprit, doubling the size of hell.

Because Christians have become better at replacing honest differences with “being nice,” it leads to pretending. Then the “cold shoulder” becomes a “cold war.” Every church has it, even the earliest one. The Amish and Mennonites practiced “shunning” or shaming. A man visited our church last year, who was being shunned by the Jehovah’s witnesses. He didn’t last in our place very long, but at least we didn’t shun him out. The only exclusion is self-exclusion. The Catholics excommunicate their ne’er-do-wells. Egg shells cracking! People tiptoe around this text because it feels a lot like revenge, the ugliest sin.

What’s really sad is they both want the same things. They just see through different eyes or go about it in different ways. And its usually, no always, something petty. It never occurs to anybody to ask what caused it, because everybody’s so sure they already know. So, if you’re not in the wrong, then they have to figure it out. And the rift remains in the family of faith. And the church goes nowhere but down or around ... in circles.

C.S. Lewis’ book The Great Divorce, paints a haunting picture of hell; as a gray city, inhabited only at the outer edges with rows of empty homes in the center; vacated because those who used to live there fussed with their neighbor one time too many, and moved away. That’s how hell got so big. A vast empty center, but jammed on the edges, because the people chose distance instead of honest communication to settle their differences. I guess it’s OK if you don’t mind living on the outskirts of hell.

Jesus believed that keeping the family together is more important than being right. If you think that’s easy, you ought to be a pastor sometime, because there’s plenty in the church who think they can do your job better. The beauty of this story is it points out how unity was more important to God than anything else. And that includes things we think are most important: salvation, money, status, power. John 17. “That they may be one.” Jesus prayed that concern because what ruins a church is how fast we’ll defend ourselves over some slight. The speed in which we’ll forsake our relationships to nurse our wounded pride. The motives get so mixed that you don’t even want peace.

The nuisance of belonging makes it understandable why people don’t join a church. It’s just a lot easier to keep your religious life a “private matter,” between you and God. That way you avoid the inconvenience of belonging. You know, the ol’ me-and-God-syndrome, but mostly me, that crops up when somebody unchurched dies?

But according this violent-Jesus-story, there’s to be no “Lone Rangers.” Because our life together in church is the means God has chosen for being with us. We may prefer “God-as-my-co-pilot,” but God I’ve got news for you: God is the pilot! And we’re the passengers. And church is where we’re encouraged, challenged, tested and redeemed through relating to and hopefully cooperating with instead of competing with one another. When somebody crosses us, even if we’ve done nothing wrong, God expects us to act like the family we are. That’s how we know God and God knows us.

I watched “Driving Miss Daisy” for the second time the other night. Framed in Atlanta, GA from the 40's to the ‘70's. The cantankerous Miss Daisy, a gentrified white woman, played by Jessica Tandy, and the ever-patient Hoke, a dignified black man, Morgan Freeman were quite a pair. These two went at it daily. Their relationship consisted of alternatingly offending each other, then making up; fighting and forgiving.

When Miss Daisy was placed in a nursing home due to aging, it was Hoke who came visit her every day. Through all the ups and downs, ins and outs, they were family in the real sense of the term. And the most touching scene for me was when Hoke brought her favorite peach pie one day. But Miss Daisy could no longer feed herself. So Hoke did. And that tender scene of a black man spooning a white woman, down in the Heart o’ Dixie, you know it made God smile. Especially when she said, “Hoke, you’re the best friend I ever had.” And he just smiled, because he was.

Yeah Matthew 18 is more like castor oil than peach pie. You know Jesus is right. And you know it’s good for you. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. Still, it’s a microcosm of what God wants for his church.

It’s naive to think we’re gonna get along all the time. We’re Baptists, for God’s sake! Baptists at their worst, are like Lewis’ “Great Divorce.” And Baptists at their best, are characterized by this church’s founder, Mr. Williams. For a mighty long time now, this old Meeting House has seen everything from the cranky Miss Daisy to good ol’ Hoke, who agreed with her in nothing, but was her friend in everything. And God’s up there yelling: Yeah! That’s what I’m talking ‘bout!

Pastoral Prayer: 8/17/08
Lord, who art above us, around us and within; to whom we belong, from whom we turn only when deceived, beneath this lazing late-summer sun, we gather once again with our heads bowed in worship.

We wake up every day thinking nothing bad will happen to us. Some of us blame you when it does. Then we look at Jesus, and wonder why we should be any different? Sometimes there’s nobody to blame. Give us the magnanimity to respond to our tragedies like he did, and commend ourselves into Thy hands.

We thank Thee for families that care and loyal friends we can trust, the sound of good music, and the ripples of laughter that shatter our pretensions. For this community of faith to which we’re privileged to belong and the sense of continuity with those who followed in another day, we give Thee thanks.

We remember all who are having a hard time. Some living at the breaking point and don’t know where to turn; others expected to produce more than they can deliver. Especially we think of the in-betweeners, simultaneously responsible for aging parents who resist help and growing children who want too much help.

 
As nature alters and time takes its toll, we would not forget the grieving and lonely, and those whose every breath is a struggle against aging or disease. Grant all these the strength to hang on one more day and minister Thy healing to each, according to their need and Thy boundless grace.     Amen.