Sermon (January 22) "The Good News of the Good News"

     A family had twin boys whose only resemblance to each other was their looks. If one felt it was too hot, the other thought it was too cold. If one said the TV was too loud, the other claimed the volume needed to be turned up. Opposite in every way, one was an eternal optimist, the other a doom and gloom pessimist. 

     Just to see what would happen, on the twins' birthday their father loaded the pessimist's room with every imaginable toy and game. The optimist's room he loaded with horse manure.
That night the father passed by the pessimist's room and found him sitting amid his new gifts crying bitterly.

     "Why are you crying?" the father asked.

     "Because my friends will be jealous, I'll have to read all these instructions before I can do anything with this stuff, I'll constantly need batteries, and my toys will eventually get broken." answered the pessimist twin.

     Passing the optimist twin's room, the father found him dancing for joy in the pile of manure.      "What are you so happy about?" he asked.

     To which his optimist twin replied, "There's got to be a pony in here somewhere!"

     Some people can be positive in any situation!

     I think it’s interesting that the first four books of the New Testament that tell the story of Jesus are called, “Gospels.”  The word, “gospel” literally means, “good news.”  The story of Jesus is a story of good news.  Our faith is a good news faith.

     And really, the entire bible is one big story of how a loving God who created this world is bound and determined to rescue it from sin and death.  The bible is a story of good news.

     In our Gospel reading for today, Jesus begins his ministry by proclaiming this good news.  And notice that Jesus isn’t saying that this good news is something that will only be for the future.  This good news has already been launched in the here and now.  Listen to the past tense.  Jesus says, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near.”

     This is the good news of the good news!  The good news is that the good news is already happening.  And it has been happening because of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  Can you think of any gooder news than that?  J  Pardon my grammar!  The good news is that the good news is already happening!

     Where do you see the good news of the good news at work?  Where do you see the good news of the good news in your day to day living?

     We live during a time where there seems like there’s nothing but bad news.  Lack of jobs, increasing poverty, negativity abounds in politics – the list goes on and on.  You can see why somebody would choose to be a pessimist over an optimist.

     But the good news of the good news is that God’s kingdom has already come near.  The signs of God’s grace surround us in any given moment even in the midst of the struggles, pain, and difficult transitions that we face in our daily living.

     Jesus certainly knew how difficult life can be sometimes.  Mark tells us that just before Jesus began to announce the good news of God’s kingdom, that John the Baptist had been arrested.  By referring to this sad event, Mark wants us to know that in the midst of life’s struggles and disappointments, there is hope.  The kingdom of God has come near.

     Speaking of transitions, just think about Jesus calling those first disciples.  They were fishermen.  In Israel, fishing was often a family business going back several generations, even centuries.  And Jesus called them to leave not just a hobby, but their livelihood, their family business of being fishermen in order to follow him.

     When you have a family business that has any history to it, there’s an expectation that this will carry on with the next generation if possible.  And here, these disciples were willing to say goodbye to the world as they knew it.  I can’t think of a more daring step of faith.

     When you read this scripture, you wonder if Mark wasn’t also thinking about Abraham from the Old Testament.  Like the fishermen in Mark’s Gospel, God called Abraham to leave what he was doing, his home, his whole way of living in order to follow God into an unknown future.

     About a year and a half ago, a member of our church, Stephanie Warner decided to serve in the Peace Corps in Botswana, Africa.  She will be coming home this summer.  She has been helping to stop the spread of AIDS through the medical clinic in her village.  I remember meeting Stephanie when I first came here to the church.  She was teaching Sunday School for our High School youth.

     Recently, Stephanie was reflecting on her decision to leave the comforts of her home and her familiar way of life, almost questioning if it’s all been worth it.  But then she writes, “You only have one life to live so you better make sure you are living it to the fullest.”

     When she shared those thoughts, it reminded me so much of the disciples and how Jesus called them to leave everything and follow Him.  The good news isn’t just something that’s way out there in the future.  It’s also breaking into the present.  As Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is at hand.”

     Even in the midst of life’s transitions, God is with us.  This is the good news of the good news.

     Many of you know about my mother who has dementia and lives in Pennsylvania.  This past fall, my brother, sisters, and I decided that it was time for our mom to move from her farm house where she has lived all her life.  All four of us were raised there and we all have strong emotional ties to the house and the farm. But we knew that it was time for our mom to move to a place where she would get much better care.

     We had a big task in front of us.  The four of us met at the farm house this past November to prepare mom’s belongings for an estate sale.  Because of all the memories in the home we grew up in, the four of us had an agreement that we wouldn’t spend time reminiscing since we only had a week to get things ready for the sale.  For the most part, we kept to our agreement.

     In the attic were several large pieces of furniture, boxes and loose items that needed to be carried down two flights of stairs, and then sorted, and tagged.  The cellar which had experienced flooding from a lot of rain this past year needed to be emptied and aired out.  The farm buildings needed to be cleaned and organized.

     Things that we didn’t want to keep or think would sell needed to be thrown into a large dumpster that we had rented.  At the end of each day, I noticed that all four of us were limping from all of the carrying, lifting, and cleaning.  We were quite a sorry sight to see.

     Toward the end of the afternoon of the last day that I was in for the trip, we had finished all our work.  My one sister and I were standing in front of the barn when my brother and my other sister drove up in dad’s old pick-up truck. 

     My brother said, “Let’s make one final trip out to the pines.”  The pines referred to a place on our farm where our dad would go to chop down a Christmas tree each year.  Dad had died in 1989 and so his memory was constantly with us throughout that week. 

     The pines was that place that served as a pet cemetery for our dogs who had died.  The pines was that place where we would go as kids just to be quiet and listen to the sounds of nature.  We drove back to the pines on the same path that our dad would often take on his tractor, a path that was between two cornfields along the sloping farmland of south central Pennsylvania.

     When we made it out to the pines, we got out of the pick-up truck.  The sun was just beginning to set, providing a glow over the recently picked golden cornfields.  It was an unusually warm and calm November day.

     We remarked on how beautiful it was to be back to the pines.  I took a short walk through the woods where dad and I had hunted many years.  So many memories of that beautiful farm.  We felt like kids again as we remembered stories from our childhood.  A large graceful deer interrupted our conversation as it came out of the woods and darted through the cornfield toward the pines. 

     And then we were silent, not saying a word, as we savored that holy moment.  I thought about dad and how much I missed him.  And then I thought about mom and how she would soon be leaving the home where she had lived all her life.

     Just at the right time, as my heart was feeling the ache of the pain of transition, one of us offered to say a prayer.  And the four of us, joined hands and made a little circle.  We thanked God for giving us parents who loved each of us and passed the faith on to us.  We thanked God for giving us the farm as a great place to be raised and that we had these beautiful shared memories that would stay with us forever.

     That holy moment of prayer caught us all off guard.  I was reminded that this is the good news of the good news.  God was present in that moment even in the midst of that time of change and transition for our family. 

     I’ll never forget that one last trip back to the pines.  God is with is us in times of transition.

     Before coming to Lancaster, I pastored a church in Xenia, a county seat town near Dayton.  Xenia is unfortunately known for the large 1974 tornado that destroyed much of the city.  In 2000, I arrived at the church just a few months after Xenia had been hit by another tornado.  The church was hit and suffered a lot of damage and I was there during the rebuilding phase.

     It was a very difficult time for that congregation.  Before the tornado hit the church, they had just completed a one million dollar building expansion.  The tornado destroyed a lot of the new addition.  It was a very stressful time for everyone.  Sunday worship services needed to be held at the local High School.  Sunday School classes met at a Senior Citizen building as well as in other places in the community.  And the congregation was faced with yet another stressful rebuilding project.

      A member of my church wrote this journal entry about her experience during that difficult time in the life of our church.

     “I am discouraged and sad.  Our church was hit by a tornado several months ago. Much of the building was destroyed; the rest was badly damaged.  It will take a year to rebuild. Everyone pulled together through the clean up and the start of the rebuilding. 

     Now, six months later, the weariness of living with construction has hit.  We’ve had flat tires from nails in the parking lot, and the strains of meeting in a dozen places around town have worn our spirits thin.

     We are caught in a conflict over the reconstruction – should we rebuild what we had or redesign for future needs?  We have differing hopes, a deep sense of loss, and competition for inadequate space.

     Fierce disagreements among people who hold different priorities make this a tense and ragged time.  I am beset by ugliness and conflict.  I find myself in tears, wanting to run away from it all.  I desperately want God to gather me up like a sobbing child, hold me against his shoulder and comfort me.

     As I sit in the living room, the cat climbs onto my shoulder, snuggles down and purrs.  I let go of fears and strife and I settle into the peaceful joy of cat-cuddling.

     God gently whispers into my ear, ‘This is how I love you.’

     My anguish diminishes as I understand; as painful as this is, it will pass.  I am not alone.  I am in the embrace of God.”

     For Barb, she was able to embrace the good news of the good news even in the midst of the rubble and the chaos.  She was reminded of God’s love for her in a moment when she needed it the most.

     Barb eventually included this entry in a book she wrote called “Road Grace.”

     Our Gospel reading tells us that as Jesus begins to share this good news that the kingdom of God has come near, he calls on some fisherman to drop what they’re doing and follow him.  “Repent and believe in the good news,” he tells them.  And they followed.

     Jesus’ announcement of the good news isn’t only for those fishermen.  It’s also for the woman whose church has been hit by a tornado and is now facing the stress of rebuilding.  It’s for the four adult children of the mother who aren’t quite ready to let go.  It’s for the young woman who is far from home in Africa. It’s for the optimist AND the pessimist.

     The good news of the good news is for you and for me.

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