Christian Love

Preached (in part) 12 September 2010 at Asbury Grove Contemporary Service by Cassie Helms
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Prayer
Lord, Bless my words today, that those listening may know they come from you, and be open to them. Let all know that they are delivered with love, and let them be received with love.  In your name, Amen

The Sermon
Maybe I'll call this my “summer of love.” It seems like everywhere I went this summer, the question of Christian love came up, and whether we were living and acting it according to God's word. Then for my Grandfather's funeral two weeks ago, my Grandmother requested a scripture on love. And then only one week later, a professor lectured on another passage about love. It's only fitting that I close out the summer with a class assignment, and an opportunity to preach, that allow me to delve a bit deeper into Christian love.

Most of us don't get on a subway train expecting to be spit at. But in the former Soviet Republics? Pretty much anyone who falls into the very broad category of “black” experiences that – and worse. At night, they run the risk of being beat up by skinheads. They always know to have identification with them lest the police stop them – and maybe arrest them – simply for walking alone in a certain area of town. Most of these actions are perpetrated by Christians.

You might say, “Well, we've moved past that stage here in America!” And you might be right. Then again, I don't envy those who are Muslim and living peacefully in America these days. Or even those who are of Middle Eastern descent. Or, for that matter, someone who vaguely resembles someone who could be Middle Eastern. Not long after the "original" September 11, I traveled with a group of classmates, one of whom was a darker skinned Christian. He was stopped and searched at every security checkpoint in the airports, going both to and from our destination. He was the only one in our group.

But wait. Yes, yesterday was September 11. No, this is not going to be “that kind” of sermon. So let's step away from that, at least for a moment.

I spent the last week of August in a classroom rather than here at the Grove enjoying the sun, pool, and last days of summer with the kids. Most of you know that. What you may not know is what the class was all about. The title was “Race and American Christianity.” We were given rather free reign when it came to our final projects, so long as they related to the topics of the class, so I decided to preach a sermon. At this point, some of you that know me well might groan, as the light bulbs go on above your heads. You're starting to get, by this point in the year, how I'm such a stickler when it comes to race, even about the “minor” jokes you might hear on Comedy Central.

It might fit yet more pieces into the puzzle if I remind you that I worked at a school in inner city Atlanta that was 99% minority and, rather stereotypically, 76% below the poverty line. And if you need still more, I will be spending the next two semesters working in a multi-ethnic, but historically-black, church in downtown Boston. I've done three major overseas trips that dealt with ethnic, racial, and religious conflict and reconciliation. I saw the efforts at reconciling in each instance, and I saw the resistance. I guess you could say that, by this point, the relationship between race and religion is one of my “things.”

But mostly, I think “love” is my thing. The various letters of the New Testament emphasize and re-emphasize love until, you might say, they're beating a dead horse. As Christians, you would think we wouldn't be able to miss the Biblical importance of love, and yet it seems to be our biggest struggle. Fortunately for this sermon, but unfortunately for human history, examples of race and ethnicity perfectly illustrate our failings in Christian love.

Don't get me wrong: me too. I don't profess to be the best at acting the gospel. I get angry, I make flippant comments, I'm extraordinarily judgmental. I need this sermon just as much as the next person. But I'm aware of it. It's why I put myself in situations which are often unfamiliar and/or uncomfortable. They help me learn. They help me better myself. They remind me that it's not all about me, the people like me, and the things that make me comfortable.

What is Christian Love?
The reading from Corinthians – a famous one, one many of you probably know – goes on to tell us that love is patient. What doest that even mean? Does it mean being the parent in the diner who smilingly allows their child to yell and throw food, much to the irritation of everyone else? Probably not. Ephesians tells us to “keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” Christians don't have the best track record with this: just look at the Crusades. Even to this day, many American Indians avoid conversion, simply because Christianity has, for centuries, been viewed as the white invaders' religion – and as the mechanism and justification for that invasion. Though history books often avoid this point, many of those “invaders” were genuine Christians, looking to save souls. If you're from a truly evangelistic faith, you know that many would have seen converting others as important for their own salvation, too. And yes, the Bible tells us to spread the good news – but it also shows us that the God of the New Covenant is a patient God. When we stray, he does not force us into submission, as the Israelites often found themselves subjected to. Instead, he waits, and then welcomes us back with open arms when we repent.

Love is also kind. Jesus died to save us from ourselves, to cleanse us of our sins. There is no kinder act than that, and we cannot begin to measure up, but Matthew quotes Jesus as saying that we should be perfect, as our Heavenly Father is perfect. We can do nothing less than strive for that perfection. But what is this kindness? It is easier to say what it is not. It is not hate crimes. It is not assuming that a segregated part of town is the bad side of town. It is not making sweeping generalizations about a certain faith or ethnic group. It is not “judging a book by its cover.” It is not making off-color jokes, particularly when intending to insult another. Kindness is getting to know individuals, rather than stereotypes. Kindness is working with and for those who are different from you. Kindness is, as Jesus commanded us, loving and praying for our enemies.

Love does not envy or boast, and is not proud. We are not better than anyone else, nor are they better than us. Under the New Covenant, we have been told that there is no man nor woman, no Jew nor Gentile, no slave nor free. We are all saved by Jesus' love. Love is not self-seeking, because we have already gained the most important gift in life, and we have all been given it.

Love is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. This is perhaps one of the most difficult things for us. We live in a secular world. We live in an interfaith world. We live in a multi-ethnic world. We have different goals, different ideals, different world views, and it is easy to take offense at actions. It is especially easy to take offense at those actions that are meant to hurt us. But recall – love is patient. We must forgive, and forget, in order to live demonstratively as Christians.

Love protects, and love trusts. These are flip sides of the same coin. Those who are strong – who have power – whether through money, through skill, through employment – should be trustworthy. The secular world puts us in positions of inequality, despite God. God offered us protection from eternal damnation, when Jesus died to save us. Like God, we should resist taking advantage of power, and instead use it in love.

As Christians, we choose to trust God, and accept salvation. For me, trust towards other people is particularly difficult. One of my friends in college used to laugh at how I'd squirm when someone would ask a personal question. I didn't want to answer, because that information could give them power over me - no matter how small. These were people in a Christian group, and I hadn't even learned how to trust them. How could they, then, trust me? If I was so prepared for them to betray me, I could just as easily hurt them, if only because I didn't love them as a Christian should.

Finally, love always hopes, and always perseveres. I hope that we share a common hope for the future. I hope that we are no longer racist, agist, classist, etc. I hope that we avoid stereotypes. I hope that we cease “judging the book by its cover.” I hope that we are not power-mongers. I hope that we choose to help and protect those who need it, rather than making jokes and hurtful comments. I originally wrote these sentences with the words “I hope most of us.” I changed them to “we.” Not everyone in this world embraces love yet, but if love always hopes and always perseveres, then one day, under God's reign, they will.

Conclusion
I have to leave you with a refrain from an old hymn. It's not exactly politically correct anymore, and I'm not sure if the younger generations will know it, but it was almost a song itself in Vacation Bible Schools, once upon a time.

Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Prayer
Dear God, We are all your children. Let us go out into the world, knowing you love us, and sharing that love with others. Let us remember the words from your Book, and let them guide us in our everyday lives. In your name, Amen