“God’s Joyful Kingdom”

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-46

A true confession: When I was a child I detested Vacation Bible School. I resented being stuck inside on nice summer days. I thought that sticking me in one of those things almost as soon as school had let out for the summer was a form of torture devised by adults. I didn’t – and still don’t – enjoy all that artsy-crafty stuff. I considered most of the songs they tried to teach us to be silly. To this day I despise the taste of Kool Aid.

Be that as it may, some of those silly songs are still stuck in my head, especially the one about having joy, joy, joy, joy and the love of Jesus down in my heart. And that’s the one that started popping up this past Monday. Why? God does indeed work in mysterious ways. And as he has dealt with me over the years, mischievous ways, reminding me that God does indeed have a sense of humor and that all things really do have a way of working together for good – even that childhood torture known as Vacation Bible School.

The Kingdom of God is all about the joy and love of Jesus I so reluctantly sang about all those years ago. The Kingdom of God is about having joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart. Likewise it is about having the love of Jesus, love of Jesus down in my heart: today or to stay, I don’t remember which, but the reality is that both are true. The Kingdom of God is about experiencing joy in the present tense. The Kingdom of God is about having the love of Jesus permanently etched on our hearts.

The aftermath of Daniel Friemayer’s horrible accident has brought something else to bear on my heart. I am a pastor. That is who I am. That is what I am called to be: a pastor whose God-given task is to bring the love and joy of Jesus into every situation, every sermon, every meeting, every Bible study, every phone call or e-mail, and every face-to-face encounter. I know some theology and can do biblical exegesis. I moderate session and chair presbytery committees. I along with you, seek to discern God’s vision for Grace Presbyterian Church. I have many tasks. I wear an assortment of hats. But my primary role is pastor, a shepherd after the example of the Good Shepherd.

The Good Shepherd Jesus who came proclaiming the Kingdom of God as a place of God’s joy and love. Something so valuable that we’ll gladly pay any price or make any sacrifice to be part of it. Small as a mustard seed derided by culture even as it quietly grows into a mighty tree. Insignificant as a bit of leaven tossed into the dough, until, that is, the leaven brings about great change and growth.

A treasure of infinite worth. A pearl of immeasurable value. Not something we struggle to build or earn, but something to which we are simply invited and in which we have received a gracious offer to participate. The Kingdom of God is not so much a place as it is a state of being or way of life in which we can honestly join with the Apostle Paul in giving thanks for all things; a state of being or way of life in which we can bear lightly and restfully the yoke of our Lord.

Six days from now a mission team from this church is going to Jamaica. None of us really know what to expect. We go as much more than tourists. We will be strangers in a strange land. But we will be Christ’s strangers. We will be standard bearers of the Kingdom of Heaven. We will carry within us the love and joy of Jesus. We will carry with us a message of grace, mercy, love, and hope. We will do our best, in a Christ-like way, to plant a few seeds and mix a bit of heavenly leaven into the lives of those we will encounter. While this is not a vacation, we cannot think of it as work. We dare not consider it a burden or sacrifice. It is God’s gift: to us and to all those we meet.

I do not go as an American but as a Christian, a citizen of the Kingdom. I do not go as a Presbyterian but as a member of the Body of Christ. I have no political, ecclesiastical, or theological axe to grind. I have been invited to preach and lead worship. I have chosen to enter into a ministry of witness and prayer. I will consciously and unconsciously seek to be a role model for all who go with me. In all those roles I will be primarily a pastor: not a theologian, not an exegete, not an administrator – a pastor, a shepherd in the name and after the example of the Good Shepherd Jesus.

That’s who I am; that’s what I do: be it in Jamaica or Maryland, in the pulpit or at the hospital, during a service of prayer and praise or while conducting a funeral, moderating the session or standing on the floor of presbytery, driving on the Beltway or pushing a shopping cart through a grocery store. I am a pastor within whose heart there must always be not only the love and joy of Jesus, but also the grace, mercy, and compassion of Jesus. There can be no room in my heart for judgment or condemnation. While I must engage in prayerful and thoughtful discernment, if I err, it must always, always, always be on the side of grace.

Last Sunday afternoon, at the request of Pete and Karen, I baptized Daniel. Everything was done decently and in order – the great Presbyterian mantra. I was accompanied by an elder. I had received prior authorization from the session. The situation was unusual, but it fell within the parameters of Reformed theology and Presbyterian polity.

But what if it hadn’t? What would I have done? I’d have baptized Daniel anyway. Not to be rebellious or confrontational. Not because I thought myself above the rules by which the church is governed. I would have done it because I am a pastor. I don’t always have time for ecclesiastical – or political – correctness. I don’t always have the luxury of dotting every i or crossing every t.

I am a pastor – a shepherd, and when push comes to shove pastorally, I will not let rules, regulations, public opinion, conventional wisdom, polity, or theology get in the way of caring for the sheep. The requirements of the Kingdom trump the rules of the world. Pastoral care trumps theology. Sometimes I all I can do is pray that forgiveness really is easier to get than permission. And if it’s not, be willing to take my lumps.

Of course I have a pretty good role model – his name is Jesus. He never let the Kingdom be rigidly governed by the demands of Pharisaic orthodoxy. He healed on the Sabbath, touched lepers, spoke to women, and hung out with tax collectors, prostitutes and other riff raff. I am not equating myself with Jesus. He was perfect; I am not. He fully comprehended the will of God, it was, after all, his will; I don’t. He didn’t make mistakes; I do. His discernment of the truth was always free from error; mine is not. But as best I can I seek to imitate him in living out the ways of the Kingdom, and as I’ve already said, always, always, always willing to risk erring on the side of grace.

We live, work, and worship in the midst of thousands who have never experienced the love of Jesus. There is no joy, joy, joy, joy down in their hearts. From their perspectives the kingdoms of this world are the only kingdoms that exist. They are in dire need of an alternative to the kingdoms of this world. They are dying for the lack of an invitation into the Kingdom of Heaven.

An invitation, not a summons. No one can be dragged kicking and screaming into the Kingdom. People are not trophies that we go out and win for Christ. We cannot sway them into heaven with rational arguments no matter how Reformed and orthodox those arguments might be. Confrontational evangelism is an oxymoron. We cannot use our Bibles to pound the love of Jesus into their heads or hearts.

We can’t even really explain the Kingdom of God to them. We can only demonstrate it: lovingly and joyfully. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I’ll never impress them into the Kingdom with my smooth rhetoric, pristine theology, or outstanding exegesis. Nobody will ever come to Christ because of how well I moderate a session or run a meeting.

When it comes right down to it the only real gift I have to offer people is pastoral care: listening to and being present for them, loving and accepting them even when I don’t like them or care for their behaviors, being a Christ-like servant to them after the example of the Suffering Servant Jesus, never ever condemning them or even what they do, quietly teaching and not lecturing, asking them to consider Jesus not demanding that they accept him on my terms, inviting them to walk with me in the way of Christ, holding out to them, no-strings-attached, the love and joy of Jesus, offering to share with them the wonderful treasure that is the Kingdom of God.

So that’s what I’m going to do as I live out my ministry in the world and in this church: be a loving, joyful conduit into the Kingdom. I’m through worrying about theological and political differences. I’m not going to be anxious about differing schools of biblical interpretation. I’m simply going to be the best pastor I can be, one filled with the love and joy of Jesus. Amen.