Reading
Luke 3:7-18John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.’
And the crowds asked him, ‘What then should we do?’ In reply he said to them, ‘Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.’ Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, ‘Teacher, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.’ Soldiers also asked him, ‘And we, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.’
As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, ‘I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’
So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.
Address
We’re
very lucky in
this church.
Over the last few years we’ve had five people offer themselves for
Reader ministry, and it’s been a real privilege to walk with each
of them as they’ve wrestled with whether this was something God was
calling them to do, giving them space to try it out and preach a
couple of sermons to get a sense of whether there was a vocation
waiting
to be explored.
Part of the fun of this, from my perspective anyway, has been the
assessed sermons when I, and several others in the congregation, have
to listen to the sermon with
a critical ear and
then write comments on it from a specially prepared sheet that comes
from the diocese. Basically
we get to mark someone's sermon!
And
on that sheet there is an array of questions, and one of those
questions is always ‘Where was Good News to be found in this
sermon?’ Where was Good News? Suffice it to say, the Gospel
reading we have today is not one of the passages that they get asked
to preach on, because when John the Baptist starts speaking we have
to ask the question, ‘Where is Good News here?’ Now it seems to
me that Luke is an absolute master of irony (I'll explain what I mean
in a moment), but I don’t think he even means to be. I'll explain
what I mean in a moment, but first, listen again to the accusatory
message he records John as sharing. He starts off by shouting at the
crowd, ‘You brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the coming
wrath?’
Great
start. Could you imagine that coming from an Anglican evangelist? I
am so very careful to try and say ‘We’ and never ‘You’ when
I’m preaching. I am very aware of my own shortcomings so I don’t
dare say, ‘You awful, dreadful people. You despicable sinners.
You vile worms.’ Maybe I’m just too English, too polite, too
scared of putting my parishioners’ noses out of joint. But that
doesn’t seem to be a worry for John. He has no parish share to
worry about, no people he has to keep ‘onside’. He feels
completely free to say whatever he wants to the gathered crowd. So
he starts by calling them a brood of vipers. Then he warns them that
unless they do good deeds to show they’ve changed their minds about
how to behave, they had better consider themselves to be trees about
to be felled. And he just doesn’t let up.
After
giving some very practical advice on how to live properly, by giving
away what you don’t need, (there’s an anti-capitalist message if
ever I heard one), by telling the truth and being fair in business,
he ups the ante even further, pointing towards
the one who is to come, explaining that he himself
is
not the Christ, but that they had better be very afraid of the one
who is coming. Why? Because the Christ is coming with unquenchable
fire to burn up that which is useless. And then, after all of this
‘turn or burn’ preaching, we get the ultimate in irony when Luke
writes, ‘And with many other words Luke preached the Good
News
to the people.’
Good
News? Good News? What’s good about that? To paraphrase one of my
all time favourite films, that’s not Good News, that’s ‘Oh God,
Oh God, we’re all gonna die!!’
And
John just doesn’t know how to stop. He goes on in the same
condemnatory way until he criticizes King Herod and is arrested and
locked up for doing so. Where is the Good News here?
Well
it is there, and actually you don’t even have to dig down very
deeply. You have to recognise that there is a difference between
Good News and nice news. We need simply to ask ourselves why God has
sent John the Baptist. Principally he is there to prepare the way
for Christ. In other words he has to get people out of the ruts
they’ve got into. He has to instil in a nation the understanding
that something momentous is about to happen for which they need to be
ready. To do that he has to tell them how it is, with no holds
barred. The people have to be shown the reality in order that they
can begin to appreciate the predicament in which they find
themselves. It’s a harsh message but it’s a necessary one.
Sometimes
people talk to me about a dying relative, and they ask me whether
they should tell them the truth about their situation. My feeling is
that you should always tell people the truth about these matters,
because how else can they begin to prepare themselves? It may not
seem like Good News, but it’s all relative. There's a difference
between Good News and nice news.
If
something difficult or challenging is coming, or likely to come, you
want to tell people about it so that they can make their plans about
how to deal with it. John knew what was coming on the people; he
was, after all, a prophet. This was his job, to warn people of
what’s coming. It becomes Good News because it gets people in the
right frame of mind to do something about it, but it brings us to an
interesting place in good old English middle of the road Anglicanism.
When
I was a curate there was a Baptist church up the road from us. It
was lively and often more full than our church. Partly it was the
style of music and the type of worship, and partly it was the
preaching. They had a no-holds-barred minister, and people lapped it
up.
Why
is that? Why do we like to be told how awful we are? It’s a good
question and not one that I feel qualified to answer. Is that what
you want from me and the other preachers? Do you want us to tell you
all how awful you are? We would of course point the fingers at
ourselves too, but is that what you want?
You
see there are several sides to this. They may have had a full
church, but I can also tell you about the friends I have who went to
churches like that, who were told over and over again that they were
miserable sinners, and who left, ultimately, because there was
nothing but condemnation. Some of the people in Forest Church feel
that way, that it’s the only place they can feel safe to worship
Christ without someone shouting at them about being a miserable
sinner. Some of the people I've met in other religious and spiritual
movements are there because of this kind of preaching in the church.
And, interestingly, some of the people who came to St. Andrew's,
where I did my curacy, came there because they had left that other
church, having been condemned by the leadership for their life
choices. In fact one of the most curious things about all of this is
that churches like that declare themselves to be Bible-based
churches, and yet a report out this week has shown that people who
actually read all of their Bible, rather than just the popular bits,
tend to be quite a long way out on the liberal end of the Christian
spectrum, because that's what they find in God's word!
But
sometimes we need to call a spade a spade from the pulpit, and it can
make it very difficult to bring a balanced message when you
absolutely know that what feels heavy on your heart is going to upset
some of your congregation. But there's a difference between Good
news and nice news. You see it can also become incredibly easy to
avoid the reality of our predicament. If all you ever hear from us
is, ‘Carry on chaps; you’re doing a great job of being
Christians’, then that is really not going to help you at all.
Nice news changes nothing, it just makes us feel good, perhaps at a
time when we should be feeling bad.
We
will be completely unprepared to face God if we don’t sometimes
talk about the need for change, just
as the Spirit speaks in to our hearts too, to convict us of where
change is needed.
James
3:1, reminds those of us in the pulpit of the burden we carry with
these words: 'Not many of you should become
teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach
will be judged more strictly.'
But
preaching
the hard teachings
always comes with a risk. In any demographic there are going to be
things which congregations
think should be
no go areas for us as preachers, which, to be honest, tend to be the
ones we get most called to speak about. I
know that I have upset people in the past with some of the subject
matter of my sermons, and
I am not, for a moment, saying that we always get it right in what we
preach, but sometimes we feel very strongly that the Spirit is saying
something to us and we have to find the words to convey that. So
much of the Bible speaks strongly about possessions and justice so
maybe we should preach that strongly.
Some
things have to be said. Good
news is not the same as nice news. That
also
means
that we
have to take notice of what John the Baptist says when he tells us to
get rid of any excess to someone who is having to go without, because
he’s right. And
we
have to be prepared to hear the things that hurt and upset us,
because if we don’t then we will be unprepared to face God at the
end of our lives.
So
let me lay some groundwork for after Christmas. Let me be a bit
'John the Baptist' in preparing the way for an important message.
One of the greatest problems the Church of England faces at the
moment is money. I hate talking about this because I hate to come
over as us trying to fund an organisation when the reality is about
trying to be the presence of Christ in the parish. But in a few
weeks we’ll start to tell you just how bad our finances are in this
church. Some of you will be thinking, ‘You must be kidding; we’ve
heard about the legacy you’ve been left. We know about the farm
house you have to sell.’
But
maybe you don’t know the deficit we’ve been running at. Maybe you
don't know how far down we've had to run our reserves to keep going.
Maybe you don't know that we've had to rely on one or two huge
donations to keep going these last few years. Maybe you don't know
that, even if carefully invested, that great gift we've been given
will just barely allow us to keep operating as we are. Maybe you
don't know how much some of us want to invest in children and
families work but are struggling because the congregations are not
giving enough and even the legacy we hopefully have coming may not
bridge the gap.
So
maybe I should preach nice, warm, welcoming, everything's OK sermons
so that more people will come and feel happy. But I'm not convinced
that's what John the Baptist would have done. But that is always
going to be the tension between running a parish and being an
itinerant preacher. I think, though, that I speak for my colleagues
in the pulpit when I say that what we most want to do is to try and
tell you what the Lord lays on our hearts when we preach. It may not
always sound like Good News, and we may not always get the
translation right, but anything which challenges us to draw near to
God is surely Good News really.
And
good news is not necessarily nice news, but Good News means something
can be changed.
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