June 2004

Luke 15:11-24

I'm going to tell a love story -- a magnificent, poignant, heart-warming, and dramatic story, brilliantly told in the scriptures. That Jesus told the story Himself gives added meaning and impact for me. There was a young man who one day went to his father and said, "Dad, I am of age now. I want to go out and try my way in the world. Please give me the money you have saved for me."

So the father said, "You are of age and I will grant this money to you. But before you go I want to tell you a few things." And he talked to him about management of his time and his money. He should be wary of unknown places and people who might get him into trouble. And he would have to carry the responsibilities of an adult and uphold the honor of the family name.

And as the father was giving his fatherly advice, because he loved and respected him, the young man was nodding his head, but really not paying attention. He just wanted to get going. His hormones were racing. He had fantasies in his head of freedom, of fun, and of pleasure.

He went to a far country, and he had all the fun and the freedom he wanted -- nobody to tell him when to come, when to go, what to do, how to do it -- women, and wine, and pleasure, and pleasure, and pleasure. After awhile he became aware that his money supply was running low. But he kept sliding down the pleasure and fun route until he was completely out of money. When he finally went to look for a job, there was no job available, because that country was in a severe depression. Now he was in trouble. He didn't have any friends he could depend on. He was completely alone. And he hit bottom. Broken and humbled, he hired himself out to feed the pigs of a local farmer just to get food to eat. He was afraid to go back home. He had embarrassed his family and wasted his life. To make things worse, he knew even his father's servants were living better than he was, and so he decided, "I'll go back to my father and say 'I have sinned against Heaven and before you. I've done a terrible thing. I am not worthy to be called your son. All I ask is for you to take me on as one of your hired servants.' " He started the long trip home. As he was approaching, his father saw him far off and excitedly called his household together. "My son is on his way home! He was lost, now he is found. He was dead -- he is alive. We're going to have a big celebration -- we're going to have a party. Kill the fatted calf, bring out the best robe, get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet."

Then he ran down the road to his son, who said, "Father, I've done a terrible thing. I have sinned against Heaven and before you. I am not worthy to be called your son. Take me on as one of your hired hands."

But the father would have none of it. He said, "Son, I love you so much." And he embraced him and kissed him. And he said something like this: "You're back, you're back, you're back! We'll talk about the details later."

Jesus told this parable to illustrate God's love. Every time somebody comes back home into the presence of the Almighty, into the presence of a loving God, there is a celebration in heaven. So one can imagine there are lots of parties in heaven. There are people here today who know that story intimately. You could recite it chapter and verse because that experience has been part of your journey. And there are some who are still living that story, and you haven't fully come home yet. In a larger sense, it is everybody's story, because we have all rebelled, we have all made unwise choices, we have all done destructive things, we have all experimented with things that have been harmful to us and to other people as well. We have all gone down those little roads. The main theme of today's sermon is that you can go home again because there is a home to go to! For some, we can't go back to our familial home, but the real home, the lasting home, is the eternal home, it is the presence of the Almighty. We are coming home to a God who loves us very much. Let me say something else about God. There isn't anything, there is not anything, that can cause God not to love you. If you have trouble identifying with that, think of a time when you were in love. There was not anything the person you loved could have done to make you stop loving them. Now, multiply that a million times a million and you have God's love.

I've been told Marble Collegiate Church is a Prodigal Son church -- and of course you know I mean both prodigal son and prodigal daughter. In a congregation this size, nearly every conceivable human experience is represented. We have been there. And yet, we've come here to a place which welcomes, affirms, embraces, forgives. We've come to a sanctuary, a spiritual community, that is forgiving and embracing and caring. You have been that way for me. I know you have been that way for each of the clergy. You have been that way for each other.

Last Sunday afternoon when I returned to my apartment I was greeted by John, the Sunday doorman. John has a wry sense of humor. And he said, "Reverend, every Sunday morning that I see you, you say you're going to church. How do I really know that you have been to church? You always come back with lipstick on your face!"

"John," I said, "we're a hugging and kissing church."

And he replied, "I'm going to go to that church next Sunday!"

About fifteen years ago a young woman, attractive, bright, and very, very serious, came to see me. She said, "I have been to your church for four consecutive Sundays. I listened for any word that was negative or judgmental or condemning of other people. I listened carefully for nuances, and I didn't hear any. If I had heard just one, I would have left." And then she told me her story. "My father is an itinerant evangelist from the South, and he operates in a tent. When I was growing up we would go from small town to small town, putting on week-long revivals. When my sister and I were about six and eight, we started to sing in the services. We got to be quite good. After awhile we were so good we became the main attraction of my father's revivals. Through our singing we helped him get more and more money, and he started to use and manipulate us."

Her father had been a harsh man, very dominating, controlling, difficult. "My sister and I began to hate what we were doing. My sister used to say, 'When I am eighteen, I'm bolting. I will be gone!' " And when she got to be eighteen, she did leave.

"I was waiting to turn eighteen so I could do the same thing," she continued. "But then I watched what my sister did when she got her freedom. She got involved in sex and drugs and really messed up her life. I didn't want the same thing to happen to me. I resolved that when I left home I would not do the same thing. And I didn't. I also resolved that I would never again cross the threshold of a church. I hated church and I was so angry with God. "In recent months I have been aware of an experience within -- I have had a yearning for God -- something spiritual. I knew it involved returning to a church. When I mentioned this feeling to some friends they suggested Marble Collegiate Church as a safe place."

Her story illustrates for me how, regardless of what has happened to us, what we have done or where we have been, God is continuously seeking to have a relationship with us. God is always in motion trying to bring us back. We think it works the other way, that we are trying to find God. Really, it's God who is trying to find us. If you think back over your spiritual journey, I think you will find that though you might have thought you were seeking God, it's really that God was seeking you. There might have been an unusual coincidence, a friend, a dream, a book you read, an inner feeling of nudging -- whatever -- it was God at work seeking a connection with you. This is so natural because our natural home is spirit. We come from a spiritual place, we go to a spiritual place and while we are here on this earth, in this mortal experience, God is continuously seeking us. What I am trying to do today is to convey in as simple a way as possible the message of God's love.

There's a wonderful man who died just a few weeks ago, a member of this congregation, Henry Marsh. He and his wife Dorothy were known to Marble members as "Mr. and Mrs. Marble." For more than two decades they would stand at the 29th Street door and greet people coming in. All the Sunday School children would call Henry "Uncle Henry." He was a grandfather figure, a godfather, anything a child needed him to be. He had a delightful teasing way about him. At his funeral service I described Henry as always tilted toward the tease -- it was his way of celebrating life and relationships. His wife Dorothy wanted to have the old hymns at the funeral service, and so with gusto we sang "The Old Rugged Cross" and "When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder". A member of the church sang a solo, another old hymn, "Softly and Tenderly":

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me. Come home, come home, you who are weary, come home, come home. Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling.

There was a great theologian of the Christian church in the early part of the last century named Karl Barth. He was heavy reading. Much of his theology was hard for me to understand. Yet there's a wonderful story about him. A group of students were in dialogue with him one night and one of them asked, "Can you describe Christianity in one sentence?"

This writer of complex, intellectually demanding theology responded, "Yes, I can do that -- Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so."

I love the writings of the late Dutch priest Henri Nouwen. He was a theologian with a great mind but, like Saint Paul, everything he wrote was tested through the furnace of human experience. It came from his heart and gut. He wrote about his journey, the joys and the wonders of it and the struggles and the confusion of it.

And he wrote about what it's like when we are frustrated because we want change and change doesn't happen. And he wrote about how attractive it is sometimes to give in to the negative, because the negative pulls us down to the point where we just want to give up, just walk away from it.

But he said that was like running away from Jesus:

Jesus came to open my ears to another voice that says, "I am your God, I have molded you with my own hands, and I love what I have made. I love you with a love that has no limits.... Do not run away from me. Come back to me -- not once, not twice, but always again. You are my child. How can you ever doubt that I will embrace you again, hold you against my breast, kiss you and let my hands run through your hair? I am your God -- the God of mercy and compassion, the God of pardon and love, the God of tenderness and care. Please do not say that I have given up on you.... It is not true. I so much want you to be with me.... Do not judge yourself. Do not condemn yourself. Do not reject yourself. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your heart...."

Nouwen goes on to say that God is a merciful God who invites us to be in a relationship of openness and acceptance.

This relationship does not take away our problems, but promises not to avoid them. It does not tell us where it all will end, but assures us that we will never be alone. A true relationship is hard work because loving is hard work, with many tears and many smiles. But it is God's work and worth every part of it. This is the love story of God loving us. Please know this -- whatever you have done, wherever you have been, you can go home again. Let us pray.

For the challenge of life, and for the miracle, the grace, of Your love for us, we understand, Lord, what it means to sing and to say "Amazing Grace, that saved a wretch like me." We thank You. Amen