By Reverend Laurie DeMott

The pastor replied, “It’s really very simple. We try to find out what the people want and then we give it to them. There's a little bit here for everyone.” Indeed, at this church you can join a singles group or take workshops in parenting; you can be part of a volleyball team or join a softball league; you can attend weekend concerts or dabble in art classes. The worship rarely includes a sermon (apparently sermons are not on the least of what people want), but instead the worship service is always presented in a most entertaining format, combining skits or multi-media presentations with exuberant faced paced music. The congregation leaves each Sunday feeling warm and affirmed, and wanting to come back for more.

What is wrong with this picture? Absolutely nothing ... if the purpose of the church is to bring people into the fold. And clearly, reaching out to those in need of comfort and hope is an important part of the church’s call, even if those who are in need of comfort and hope this week happen to be us. During the weeks of Christmas and Epiphany, the church has traditionally proclaimed the presence of Christ with us, Emmanuel, the one who enters into our world and dwells among us so that we might be healed of our brokenness and lifted again into joy. The church should be a place where we can laugh with joy, where the sorrow in our hearts can be driven out by the triumphant beat of drums, and where we can remember that we are loved by the God of the universe. But halfway through the liturgical year, the church has traditionally put aside the “Alleluias” and asked, “You have followed Jesus to the mountaintop but are you ready to follow where he will take you now?”

In the tenth chapter of the gospel of Luke, Jesus has come down from the mountain where the disciples witnessed his transfiguration in glory, and upon descending, Jesus begins to talk to the 12 about the meaning of discipleship. When the 12 begin to argue over who is the best among them, Jesus reminds them that the greatest of all will be the least of all. When a man in the crowd asks to join Jesus, as soon as he has taken care of a few obligations at home, Jesus warns him that “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

And we, the reader, nod our heads knowingly because we have read the end of this story. We know that life is going to get rough for those 12 disciples ñ they are going to flee at the cross and after Jesus’ resurrection, they will suffer many things as they try to live out his commands. Yes, the demands on the 12 apostles were going to be immense and it is a good thing that Jesus is beginning to prepare them for what lies ahead.

Except, when we stop nodding our heads and start listening with our ears, we suddenly realize that here at the bottom of the mountain, Jesus isn’t talking to the 12 disciples. He’s talking to that crowd of hangers-on who have been following him with as much dedication as the 12 disciples but enjoying the benefits of being able to fade into the background of the story. What must have it been like to suddenly have Jesus face you and talk directly to you that day?

Just imagine it: You've been living on the road for the last few months following Jesus as he goes from town to town, or maybe you are a commuter disciple, working during the week and traveling on weekends to join the crowd for a day or two at its newest location. You've enjoyed watching Jesus in action as he outwitted the authorities and you marveled when he healed a blind man ten feet away from where you stood watching. Imagine those evening campfires where you engaged your fellow travelers in friendly debate over the meaning of the parable Jesus spoke that day, or the times you gathered for prayer and felt your spirit uplifted by the voices of those around you. The feelings you have are the same feelings as those attending the 6,000 member church in the midwest, and the same feelings that draw each of us to this church during bleak times, lonely times. They are feelings of wonder, hope, awe, comfort, and excitement unknown in your day to day life; that's why you've traveled so far to see him. You have followed Jesus because of what he does to you, here, in your soul.

And now, one morning as you are kicking sand over the coals of last night's fire, Jesus signals to you and your companions to join him at the crest of the hill overlooking your campsite. You follow him, anticipating a new lesson, a story, or perhaps a time
of quiet prayer. Instead Jesus says, "I have realized over the past few weeks that there is much work to do, and I am going to need your help to accomplish what God has set before me. Today, then, I'd like each of you to choose a direction -- divide the
towns among you -- and then go out and do what I've been doing." There is silence.
Finally you speak: "What do you mean, like preaching?!"

Jesus nods calmly.

You look around at the others who are also looking a bit stunned. "And, and...healing people?" you gasp.

"Yes," Jesus replies with a little less patience.

And then the words and fears tumble out: "...and teaching? and talking to crazy people? and getting in trouble with the priests? and baptizing people? and ...and touching lepers?"

Jesus smiles now, almost laughs. "Well now, that sounds like a very good start."
It is only embarrassment that prevents you from jumping up and shouting, "But that's what you're here for Jesus. That’s why you chose 12 disciples. I’m no good at that stuff!”
But before you can utter another word, Jesus has moved on, unaware that there is anything more to discuss, for after all, why have you followed him, if it is not to serve?

You come to the church because of what Jesus has done here, in your soul, but what then? Bringing people into the fold is not the ultimate goal of the church; it is only the intermediate step on the way to its goal. The purpose of the church, that which gives the church its meaning and its reason to be is not just to bring people in but it is to send people out. The church is not a place for eternal students; Jesus expected that we would one day go out and do as he has shown us, ready to claim the power and the authority of the name of Christ. In the soaring language of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.:

"Everybody can be great because everybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your noun and verb agree to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You only need a heart full of grace and a soul generated by love..."

When the disciples realized that Jesus expected them to serve they trembled with fear that they would prove inadequate to the task for who believes that one has the power to cast out the evil of the world, or heal broken spirits, or touch the deep wounds of the heart? But you do have that power. Christ has given you that power. It is a power of healing generated by a knowledge of saving grace and a capacity to love. Martin Luther King, Jr. went on to say, "When evil men plot, good men plan. When evil men bomb and burn, good men must build and bind. When evil men shout words of hatred, good men
must commit themselves to the glory of love...."

This church is here to equip you with the power of love.

The crowds in the gospel of Mark learned how to serve by following the man Jesus but today we do not have the opportunity to see and hear the historical figure of the man from Galilee, so we come to the church to hear once again the written record of his
life, and to talk with one another about the meaning of his commandments. Here is where we are trained to love for the good of others so that God's unwavering compassion can have power in the world. To be Christ's love, it must only be constant and above all, not willy nilly and only when it is convenient. Good men and women, servants of Christ, commit themselves to love.

A minister wrote of a young man and woman he knew who lived on a small farm in his parish. Shortly after their third child was born, however, the wife developed a serious medical condition which ate away at the young family's savings and demanded a great amount of the husband's time and attention. On their tenth anniversary the minister was invited to their home to share in a very simple meal. There was no pie, no cake, no homemade rolls, but the minister remembers, "It was a feast because of the love that had set that table."

They sat around the table and talked a while and then the pastor got up to go. The young man said: "Just a minute, Pastor, before you go you must see her anniversary present." He went to the dresser and pulled out a bottom drawer and produced a thin flat package. It turned out to be a string of pearls. The minister assumed they must be imitation. How could this farm boy afford the real thing under such circumstances?

"Shut your eyes," the young man said as he stood behind her to fasten them. His wife caught the pearls in her hands and burst into tears, crying, "They are real! They are not mine. They can't be."

Her husband smiled and said, "You know before we were married you said you thought pearls were the prettiest jewelry in the world. You thought they were prettier than any other jewelry except your wedding band. A long time before we got married, I
asked the Lord to help me put this string of pearls around your neck. You never knew about this box. I started dropping money in it, nickle by nickle and dime by dime. I was fond of tobacco. I gave up tobacco, which was good for my anyway. I was very fond
of cold cokes, but for thirteen years, the ten years we've been married and three years before, I haven't spent a nickle on those. It went into that box. And now the pearls are yours and they are paid for."

"Joe," she asked, "what made you do it? What made you do it?"

The answer was simple, "I did it because I love you."

This is a commitment to love. It is the love of sacrifice, of steadfast faith, of a constant attention and concern for the object of your love. The purpose of the church is to equip you with that love for your neighbor as well as your family, and for the stranger as well as your friend, because this is a divine love which can only be truly experienced when it flows through the human heart.

George Eliot says that for all of our ideas about God's love, and our doctrines and statements of faith, we will never really experience God's love unless we feel it through the hands and heart of another human being. "Blessed influence of one true loving human soul on another!," she says. "Not calculable by algebra, not deducible by logic, but mysterious, effectual, mighty as the hidden process by which the tiny seed is quickened,
and bursts forth into tall stem and broad leaf, and growing tasseled flower. Ideas are often poor ghosts; our sun-filled eyes cannot discern them; they pass athwart us in thin vapour,
and cannot make themselves felt. But sometimes [ideas] are made flesh; they breathe upon us with warm breath, they touch us with soft responsive hands, they look at us with sad sincere eyes, and speak to us in appealing tones; they are clothed in a living human soul, with all its conflicts, its faith and its love. Then their presence is a power, then they shake us like a passion, and we are drawn after them with gentle compulsion, as flame is drawn to flame."

The purpose of this church is to clothe God's love in the flesh of this congregation. Your own sorrows shall enable you to voice God's sympathy to others who suffer. The hope and joy you have discovered shall be the vehicle for God's uplifting spirit to those who have been laid low. Your love, committed and steadfast, shall reveal the presence of a divine powerful compassion even greater than ourselves. Here in this church you are given the cloak of God's love and are sent into the world as a flame burning in the darkness. That is why we are here.