Good to Have a Choice Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25 Ephesians 3:14-19

“Choose!” Joshua said, laying out the choices before his people.
“Choose!” Joshua said, “Choose this day whom you will serve.”

This invitation to choose rings familiar in our post-election ears
having just this past Tuesday been invited to choose our next president.
Whether you are pleased with the outcome of the nation’s choice
or filled with foreboding
you’ve got to admit it is good to have a choice.

On election day I stood in a line of two at the Afton Fire House,
waited about 30 seconds for Betty Howard to graciously take my name,
officially check my ID, and assign me a number.
Without the slightest trace of anxiety or fear I took my ballot to the nearest table
picked up my #2 pencil and colored in the ovals next to my candidates of choice.
No one was looking over my shoulder to see how I voted.
No armed militias lurked in the shadows to threaten or bully me.
I was absolutely free to vote my conscience.
It is good to have a choice.

“Choose,” Joshua said, and I, for one, am grateful to have a choice.
I think of the women and men on whose shoulders we stand
who made our choice possible:
veterans like John McCain and some of you who served this country,
and civil rights warriors who sat at lunch counters and stood in protest
refusing to let bigotry have the last word
so in 2008 we could elect a black man to our highest office.
Like the Hebrew people who stood before Joshua that day
we know that our freedom to choose has come at a price,
that those who have gone before us endured slavery and armed conflict
and times in the wilderness when the way forward was not at all clear or sure.

“Choose this day whom you will serve,” Joshua said.
The twelve Hebrew tribes had crossed the Jordan with Joshua.
They had engaged in battle with Joshua to take over the land.
And they had each been given a portion of the land as their own.
As the end of Joshua’s life drew near
he decided it was time for one last act,
one last communal affirmation before he departed.
It was time to them to reaffirm the covenant between God and God’s people.

But why now? According to the book of Joshua it was a time of great success.
Hadn’t they, with God’s help, brought down the mighty walls of Jericho
with nothing more than tramping feet and a trumpet blast?
Why couldn’t Joshua just relax and enjoy his final days
strolling down memory lane,
reveling in the fruits of his labors.
Why did he have to get all serious and demand they make a formal declaration,
that they stand and be accountable,
that they verbalize before God and everybody a recommitment to serve God?

You know why.
You know as well as I do that the time of greatest success
is always the time of greatest danger.
The time of greatest achievement
brings with it the threat of greatest complacency.
The champion athlete goes out the day after winning the tournament
and gets arrested for drunk driving.
The generous, comfortable church gets all pleased with itself
and loses its edge in reaching out to those who are hard to love.

In times of achievement and success there are two dangers lurking:
The first is the danger of forgetting that any success we have
is not our own doing, but the direct result of God’s grace.
How easy it is in times of success to rewrite history.
How easy it is to underscore our own cleverness and courage and farsightedness,
and take full credit for a positive outcome.
In asking his people to recommit themselves to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob
Joshua makes a point to emphasize
that it was God who first reached out to Abraham;
that it was God who called Moses to lead them out of Egypt
and through the wilderness to the Promised Land.
If there is glory to be given, Joshua told them,
then give it to God.

The second danger of success is the opportunity and temptation success affords us
to follow after other gods.
Hardship has a way of focusing the mind;
helping us decide in our lives what is most important.
Success has a way of clouding our vision;
getting us off track with a swarm of distractions.

In conquering Canaan, the Hebrews under Joshua’s care were exposed
to a bucket full of gods, one for every occasion.
Furthermore, it was possible, even expected, that one would worship many gods.
The more gods you had the better to cover your bases with.
Harvest gods, fertility gods, kitchen gods, gods of art and leisure –
who could tell which one might offer the most protection in any given circumstance,
so you might as well keep them all close.
But Joshua reminded the Hebrews that their God was not like other gods,
their God was a jealous God, the ONLY God
who wouldn’t condone any less than their undivided attention.

Flush with pride and relief that the promises of God’s covenant had been fulfilled,
and eager to please their beloved leader Joshua,
the Hebrews gave and immediate and unqualified “Yes,”
to Joshua’s inquiry about their willingness to commit themselves to God;
his question whether they were ready to reaffirm their side of the covenant.
“Yes,” they cried in answer. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

But Joshua wasn’t satisfied.
Joshua could see through their superficial agreeability.
He asked again giving them every possible out.
“Now, if you ARE unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you WILL serve.
the gods you left in Egypt or the gods you’ve discovered since you got here.”
This was no time for giddy celebration.
This was serious business
This was a line in the sand.
Don’t make a snap decision, Joshua was saying, give it plenty of thought.

But then, as if to model for them the only response worth giving,
the old man Joshua, who had led them through so many battles
the old man Joshua who had made a habit of seeking God’s direction
said in an unwavering voice,
“As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

“Choose,” Joshua said. “Choose this day whom you will serve.”
Today is Commitment Sunday,
the day the leaders of this church have set aside
to invite you to recommit yourselves to the God of the coventant,
the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, AND Jesus.
Unapologetically they invite you to make your commitment tangible
by pledging your financial support for the coming year.

But the opportunity you have here is more than that – much more.
We invite you to choose to adopt a posture of expectancy and hope
knowing that even though temporary troubles assail you,
your God is in charge.
We invite you to choose to follow the most simple of commandments:
to love God and to love your neighbor as yourself.
We invite you to choose to adopt a worldview that makes enemies into friends
and allows strangers to join you in your journey of faith.

“Choose!” Joshua said. “Choose this day whom you will serve!”
Isn’t it good to have a choice.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made Psalm 139:1-14, Matthew 23:1-12

The other day I told a colleague that I’d grown up in Gastonia, N.C.
She said, “My husband was a fraternity brother with a guy from Gastonia.”
She named the man she meant and I immediately recognized the name.
He is about 15 years my senior and we grew up in the same church.
She said, “In the Frat House they used to call him the Count of Gastonia.”
I knew why.

He was a snappy dresser, for one thing.
He was from a well-to-do family, the son of a textile mill owner.
His suits were tailored and his silk tie perfectly knotted.
He talked a lot and tended to use big words.
He married a beautiful woman and they were a striking couple.
They just naturally drew attention to themselves.
The Count of Gastonia – yes, it fits.

I don’t mean to put down the art of dressing well or a having a facility with words
or the joy of marrying a beautiful woman – I did that and I highly recommend it!
But there are people in this world who seem to imagine themselves as royalty
and they expect royal treatment.
They put on a good show but they’ve got no substance.
Out in Texas they refer to this kind of person as “All hat and no cattle.”
“All sizzle and no steak.
In fact, it sounds like this was the way Jesus thought about the Scribes and the Pharisees.
They had their act down cold, spoke their lines perfectly, but nothing added up.

The Scribes and Pharisees were learned men;
well versed in the scriptures,
and snappy dressers, too, if you like long fringes and broad phylacteries.
But they lacked one ingredient that Jesus considered essential among his followers.
And it was a main ingredient –
not just a little extra flavoring,
not just a fancy garnish,
but a MAIN ingredient like baking powder in a three-layer cake
or corn syrup in a pecan pie.
What they lacked was HUMILITY.
They had no interest in being humble. It didn’t suit them.

When you think of a humble person what characteristics do you think of?
Gentleness? A willingness to put the needs of others first?
That’s good, right?
But it doesn’t take much for “Humility” to slip from a positive to a negative in our minds.
There’s just a hair’s difference between positive “diplomat” and negative “doormat.”
“Humility” is awful close to “humiliation”
and nobody’s going to volunteer for THAT duty.
Even Jesus himself seems to hint at both a positive and a negative definition of “humble.”
He sums up his lesson to the crowds and his disciples saying,
“All who exalt themselves will be humbled.” - NEGATIVE
“And all who humble themselves will be exalted.” - POSITIVE

I think “humility” and “humiliation” ARE two sides of the same coin.
It can be either a high five or a bum rap
depending on whether it’s a posture I freely choose
or an unwelcome judgment forced upon me.
Freely chosen, I’m humble. Forced upon me, I’m humiliated.
But even the “good” side of humility is often misunderstood.
Gentleness and the willingness to put the needs of others ahead of my own needs
are aspects of being humble but not the essence of it.

The essence of humility is to be found
in my ability to see myself as equal in the eyes of God
to every other person on the face of this earth.
It is to realize that my value as a human being is determined
not by how well I dress or how smart I am or how attractive is the person I’m with.
My value as a human being is found in understanding
that God loves me as much as but no more than God loves everyone else.

So, you see, to be humble doesn’t mean hiding your talents.
To be humble doesn’t mean letting yourself get pushed aside.
To be humble doesn’t mean not standing up against
those who would treat you or others badly.
To be humble is simply to foster the ability
to look in the eyes of any person no matter what race or station or appearance
and see in that person your sister or your brother.

I say it’s an ability we have to foster because it doesn’t come easily.
It is, in fact, counterintuitive to what theologians would call our fallen nature
or what scientists would call our biological drive toward survival of the fittest.
It’s not easy to go into a maximum security prison and look in the eyes of a murderer
and see in that person a common humanity.
It’s not easy to watch a documentary about a Cambodian rice farmer
and imagine his sense of humor might be as quirky as my own.
It’s not easy to listen to a person who speaks ill of my favorite candidate
and admit that person has the same basic aspirations and insecurities I have.
It’s too easy to simply surround myself with people like me
and bask in the illusion that because I’m good or I’m an American or I’m a Democrat
God loves me best.
But Jesus won’t abandon us to what is easy.
Instead he calls us to be humble.

Humility is a spiritual discipline that takes time to develop.
And the most direct path to humility is another spiritual grace.
It’s called “gratitude.”
We’re celebrating Reformation Sunday this Sunday,
remembering back almost five hundred years
to acknowledge the contributions of men like Martin Luther, Ulrich Zwingli
John Calvin and John Knox.

Often at great risk to themselves these men stood up to the corruptions of a church
who had lost it’s way, lost it’s capacity for humility.
John Calvin understood that what was at the heart of the church’s failure
was that it had forgotten how to be grateful to God.1
Those who led the church had begun to take for granted God’s gifts
and somehow got it turned around thinking God should be grateful to them.

We are coming to the heart of our stewardship season.
Next week we will commit our time, our talent and our treasure to God.
For three Sundays now we’ve had reports on how God has blessed Rockfish Church
and how we’ve tried to be faithful stewards.
The leadership of the church has challenged you
to consider your opportunity and your responsibility to give.

If humility is the state of mind to which we are called
and gratitude is the path we take to reach that state of mind,
then stewardship is the outward, and visible sign of our humility.
When we stop to give thanks for the depth of God’s love
and the breadth of God’s blessing
it allows us to understand that we are part of a much bigger picture
that transcends nationality or race or political party or church affiliation.
That is both thrilling and humbling.
And when we catch that fleeting glimpse of how interconnected we are,
how much we have in common underneath our skin
what else can we do but share the material and the spiritual blessings
God has given us.

The Psalmist writes, “It was you who formed my inward parts..
You knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

As we come to the table of our Lord this morning
may we keep in mind that each one of us is fearfully and wonderfully made.
Let us give thanks for that knowledge
and allow that gratitude to knit us together in humility,
and in our humility resolve to lead lives of generosity and peace.

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1Calvin, John, The Spirituality of the Law, A Sermon on Galatians 5:19-23