“Crowded Neighborhood”
A sermon by Sid Burgess
for Edgewood Presbyterian Church, Birmingham, AL
August 31, 2008
Text: Exodus 3:1-15, Romans 12: 9-21
There is no act more filled with optimism, romanticism, and hope than entering into the covenant of marriage. Odds are quite good that a person will marry at least once. The US Census Bureau says that by the time we reach age 55, an astonishing 95% of us will have been married at least once. Problem is we don’t stay married long. Today 50% of all marriages come to an end. Of all the married couples in America today, only about 5% are eligible to do what Jack and Barbara Steward are doing this Sunday morning--that is, celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.
Fifty years ago this very day-- when wedding invitations could be
sent with a three-cent postage stamp . . . . Fifty years ago this
very day, Jack and Barbara were married on a Sunday evening at the
First Baptist Church in Roswell, New Mexico, where Jack was
stationed with the Strategic Air Command. While serving in the Air
Force, Jack experienced a call to serve God in Christian ministry.
So the young couple took off to Hardin-Simmons College in Abilene,
Texas, where oldest son Mark was born. Then it was on to the
Southwestern Baptist Seminary in Ft. Worth, where they were blessed
with number two son, Stephen. Part of the purpose of seminary
education is to help a person discern exactly what God is calling
him or her to do. Two years into the three-year curriculum, Jack
came to understand that God was calling him to serve Christ’s church
as a layman instead of as a pastor, following the example of the
tent-making Apostle Paul.
Pursuit of lay ministry eventually led Jack and Barbara into the
Presbyterian Church. By the time son Stephen moved to Birmingham,
Jack and Barbara were grandparents--my, how time flies. With son
Mark well-established in Texas, and granddaughter Linda blessed with
loving maternal grandparents, Barbara and Jack decided in 2006 to
join Stephen, Finn, and Adrian here in Birmingham, and to serve God
here through Edgewood Church. That is a very abbreviated version of
the faithful life’s journey that bring us to this day, and to this
celebration.
And we’d best make the most of it. For Golden Wedding anniversaries are becoming rare indeed. To be sure, people are living longer, but we are marrying later, and dropping out of marriage sooner. What’s more, society today gives both males and females the option to forego marriage altogether. With all of the distractions, all of the competing demands and allures, all the different options, I submit to you that marriage, the covenant of marriage, the commitment of two people to genuine partnership in life, is today an undertaking no less daunting than a band of Hebrew slaves throwing off the shackles of ancient Egypt. Throwing off the shackles of slavery and striking out across the desert in hopes of reaching the Promised Land. In marriage, the romantic ideal is intimidating. The script calls for perpetual pleasure and constant contentment; economic prosperity; happy, healthy, and over-achieving children; loving and supportive families; loyal friends; and, accommodating employers. This is the “good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey.”
In recent months I have had the good fortune of working with three couples who share just such a vision for their lives together. When I meet with couples planning their weddings, bride and groom-to-be are brimming over with love, gushing with joy, and abounding in hope. Gently, carefully I try to point out what lies ahead--the challenges of keeping the romance alive, of maintaining a fully-functional partnership. I would be wise to follow the example Holy God gives us in this story about the coming rescue of our Hebrew ancestors. Today God warns Moses that the Promised Land--this “good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey”--is already occupied. It is home to the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites.
Imagine that! Flee old Pharaoh, make it through the Red Sea, wander in the wilderness for 40 years, trying to keep the dream alive, only to find out the Promised Land is . . . already occupied. Flee the loneliness of the single life, escape the confines of the family of origin, flee the frustrations of dating. Seek out the promised land of marital bliss, only to find out it is already occupied. Occupied with unspoken expectations. Occupied by conflicting family customs. Occupied by job demands, household chores, and the unforeseen coming at the inconvenient moment. Many newly weds find the Promised Land of marriage occupied by familiar old worries over finances. Soon, if not already, there are the children, bringing them their own needs for prime space. And all of a sudden, the Promised Land of marriage is crowded. So very crowded that within eight years, half of the newcomers will have called it quits.
And marriage partners aren’t the only ones to find the Promised Land--the territory of our dreams and ambitions--to be crowded. It happens to workers trying to climb the corporate ladder. It happens to youth trying to make the team or land a scholarship. It happens to commuters on US280. It happens to the modern nation of Israel, reliving it’s ancient past, still in the land already occupied by the Cannannites, the Hitties, the Amorites, and all the rest.
So now comes the question: How to live in these crowded neighborhoods? How are we to live in what we believe to be the Promised Land God has provided for us when we find that land is already occupied by others--even those we love, as well as, those we hardly even know?
As you might expect, the Bible is not short on advice. First there are the commandments: Moses tells the Hebrew tribes: 32 “you must diligently observe all the statutes and ordinances that I am setting before you today”(Deuteronomy 11). We all know those rules. Turns out, they make for pretty good rules for marriage for life as we know it in whatever status that may be, excellent rules for homes, neighborhoods, even nations.
No other gods--that is, no other ultimate priorities than loving
God.
No idols--neither gold nor silver.
No reckless use of God’s name.
Keep the Sabbath--that is, devote time to worship and rest.
Honor your momma-‘n-‘em.
Do not kill people.
Do not commit adultery.
Don’t steal, lie, or covet.
Those are the basics. But there is also this from Deuteronomy 15: “do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor” (v.7).
Come to think of it, that is a most interesting directive for those of us who find ourselves in crowded company. Just when we are feeling the most pressure, demands closing in from all sides, the Bible urges generosity. Echoing Moses, here is St. Paul today, saying:
13 Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.
There are two coded words in this divine directive. “Saint” is the biblical word for church members, fellow believers. “Stranger” is the biblical word for those who have no land, that is, for the poor.
Unfortunately, my parents did not make it to their 50th wedding anniversary-- but they did pretty good. Their marriage had held for 48 years when my father died back in l993. They started their life together with very little in the way of material goods. And yet, every payday from the day they married to the day he died, the first check they wrote was to Church. Before the mortgage, and the utilities, before the tuition bills, and other financial obligations, they paid the tithe. Amazing how “contributing to the needs of the saints” can help us keep our focus on our priorities-- that is, our relationships with God and with one another!
When life gets crowded . . . . When the masses press in from all sides . . . . When the traffic gets heavy, and the demands mount , here is sacred advice to help us keep the faith, and to keep the relationships in life that matter to most: “Contribute to the needs of the saints, and extend hospitality to strangers.”
Blessing and glory and wisdom
and thanksgiving and honor
and power and might
be to our God forever and ever. Amen.