October 23, 2005 (Strong in Faith: A Little Dab'll Do Ya)

Have Faith: Everything changes. Some things never change.

I grew up in the nostalgic days, the “Happy Days” of the 1950’s. Our fathers, without a doubt the “Greatest Generation,” returned from a world torn by war to build a new world out of their hopes and dreams. They began by giving birth to the largest generation in history, the Baby Boomers. Born in 1947, I was one of the first.

It was a time of great vitality and optimism, a time of peace after the trauma of two world wars. And it was a time when a new Methodist church was being built on the outskirts of Birmingham, somewhere way out there on Maple Road. The cornerstone reads 1951.

I can remember when we got our first television—black and white, of course. And I remember when they announced the development of color TV. I remember that my brother and I thought the colors would be coming across our grand, mahogany-encased TV. I remember sitting on the floor right in front of the TV—we actually thought we could see the picture turning into the colors of the rainbow. How disappointed we were to learn that it would require a whole new TV set, which for the Harnish family would be a long time in coming.

Ah, as Archie and Edith Bunker liked to sing, “Those were the days.” The days of I Love Lucy and Father Knows Best, Lassie and Roy Rogers. Ike was in the White House and all was well with the world…

…or so we thought.

Underneath the pleasant 50’s facade, African Americans were still living in oppression; the newly-formed state of Israel was fermenting tensions which would shape and shake the world, even today; the end of colonialism on the continent of Africa was giving birth to a whole new set of nations with a whole set of new problems; a pesky place called Korea was simmering just below the radar; and Vietnam, barely a blip in our consciousness at the moment, was set to become the formative experience for my generation. Even when we thought the world was so calm, everything was changing.

The imagery for our campaign this year, that 50’s look, is not a nostalgic flash to the past, pining for the good old days. We are not suggesting that we should go back to a time when June Cleaver wore pearls and stayed in the kitchen, and black people stayed in their place; when everything seemed as simple as Howdy Doody, and Tonto was the best example we could imagine of a Native American. Rather, it is to say that in the midst of massive change, some things never change:

Back in the 50’s—before mullets and hair mousse, before the dry look and dreadlocks—there was the ducktail and there was Brylcreem. Remember the ad, really quite risqué for the times:

Men Beware! Use one dab of Brylcreem. Just a little dab makes your hair look excitingly clean, disturbingly healthy. (Show man pursued by a group of females.) This man dared to use two dabs, now he’s in trouble. We refuse to be responsible.

Today, Brylcreem is back (thankfully, without the jingle!). Even soccer star David Beckhem signed on as a spokesman—that is, until he shaved his head. And now, in deference to all us aging Baby Boomers, you can even get Brylcreem Blue, giving “a youthful shine to gray hair.” Just a little dab’ll do ya.

In Matthew’s Gospel, chapter 13, the writer collects a set of his trademark agrarian parables. Simple stories…simple enough for a child, but profound enough to keep us thinking for two thousand years:

Another parable he set before them saying, “The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed; it is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of all shrubs and becomes a tree, so that birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”

And he told them another parable. “The kingdom of heaven is like leaven which a woman took and hid in three measures of flour, until it leavened the whole lump." (Matthew 13:31-34)

Faith like a tiny seed.
Faith like a bit of yeast.
Jesus would say, “A little dab’ll do ya”…

Like a seed with the power and potential to grow into a mighty tree, like a bit of yeast which brings life and vitality to a whole loaf of bread—just a little dab, but it has the power to transform your whole life.

Going through all the rummage sale stuff this week, I remembered the story of the box facing east. A tourist was traveling in a far eastern bazaar and came across a beautifully carved ebony box. Small, delicate, he was entranced by it. He asked the shopkeeper about it, and the man said that yes, it was for sale. There was only one thing…he must always keep it facing east.

He purchased the box and took it home. Remembering the instructions, he set it on the coffee table, turning it carefully toward the east. But once he did, he realized that it would look better if he also turned the coffee table just a bit toward the east. Then of course, the furniture was out of line with the table, so he reorganized the chairs and sofa.

But then the lighting was all wrong, so he moved the lamps to align with the furniture. In doing so, he realized that he would need to put in some new electrical outlets to accommodate the new location of the lamps around the sofa and chairs and coffee table, now arranged to accommodate the box facing east. In ordering the new outlets, they discovered the need for a entire rewiring of the house, which required tearing out most of the old lath and plaster, a new ceiling and paint, and, of course, while he was at it, new carpet and curtains…all because of the little box facing east.

Jesus says putting the kingdom at the center of your life, living by faith, is like a grain of mustard seed. It is like a bit of yeast…even a little dab has the power to transform your life.

Now, I know the rules of grammar. I know that a preposition is a terrible thing to end a sentence with. If you prefer, say it this way: It all depends on where you put your faith.

In all honesty, the issue today is not belief and unbelief, not faith and atheism. We live in a day of rampant spirituality, and faith issues are at the front and center of debates about everything from Supreme Court justices to scientific theories. Faith issues are at the heart of wars in the Middle East and culture wars at home; from radical Islamist martyrs who are willing to die for what they believe to Christian fundamentalists who are willing to fight to have it their way. There are lots of squishy spirituality and self-centered, personally-selected gods made in our own image.

One of my predecessors at Ann Arbor First, Don Strobe, once preached a sermon in that pulpit wherein he quoted the White Queen in Alice in Wonderland. When Alice complained about the queen’s tall stories, the queen replied, “Nonsense! Take a big breath and you can believe anything. I frequently believe six impossible things before breakfast.” Don said, “That sounds like folks today who will believe in anything from astrology to Satanism and Scientology… believing just about anything.” (Don Strobe, “Believing Isn’t Easy,” June 18, 1989, FUMC Ann Arbor, MI)

Now, don’t get me wrong. As an American, I believe in freedom of religion and I celebrate the diversity of religions it has spawned. As an American, I will defend the right of people to believe anything they choose. But as Christians, in this vast marketplace of religious ideas, we anchor our faith in the risen and living Christ. We dare to place God’s revelation in the “word made flesh” at the very center of our lives. In a world of conflicting beliefs, we stake our lives on the truth of the Gospel, the good news made known in Jesus Christ.

Several groups in the church are studying my brother’s book, Journey to the Center of the Faith. In it, Jim writes: “The only clearly-defined center for the Christian life is the love, life, death and resurrection of Jesus.”

In describing his church, Hyde Park United Methodist Church, he says they determined that:

The identifying core of our life together would be the desire to become people in and through whose lives the Christ-centered, cross-shaped love of God would become a tangible, down-to-earth, flesh-and-blood reality. We would keep Jesus at the center and use all our powers to live in solidarity with him.

In a day of diverse theologies and conflicting claims, we boldly place our faith in the living, giving, transforming name of one who gave himself for us.

Ask ye what great thing I know,
What delights and stirs me so?
What the high reward I win,
Whose the name I glory in?
Jesus Christ, the crucified.

Who is life in life to me?
Who the death of death will be?
Who will place me on his right
With the countless hosts of light?
Jesus Christ the crucified.

This is that great thing I know;
This delights and stirs me so:
Faith in him who died to save,
Him who triumphed o’er the grave:
Jesus Christ, the crucified.
(UM Hymnal, page 163)

You might only have a little dab of faith—like a mustard seed or a bit of yeast—but if you put your faith in Jesus Christ, it’s enough. A little dab’ll do ya.

Here we go with these troublesome little prepositions again. When it comes to faith, they make all the difference in the world. The faith of which Jesus speaks—faith that has the power to transform—is not just a set of axioms to which I give my assent. It is not just intellectual conclusions about the nature of the universe. Transforming faith does not mean “agreement with,” it means “commitment to;” not just belief “about,” but belief “in” the living Christ.

The Apostles’ Creed is one of the oldest expressions of the Christian faith. Not literally written by the apostles, it grew out of the early days of the church and has been in its present form since about the 14^th century. It evolved during times of persecution and against the backdrop of pagan worship and hostile opponents. Those who dared to confess the faith were telling the world that they were willing to risk their lives for this faith. It was not just a statement of what we believe “about” God, it is a statement of what we believe “in.”

The creed doesn’t say, “I believe that God exists, or that God is like a Father Almighty,” it says, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” It doesn’t say, “I believe that Jesus was the Son of God,” it says, “I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord.” It doesn’t say, “I agree with the church’s teachings,” it says “I believe in the holy catholic Church, the communion of the saints,” and I boldly cast my lot with this band of believers.

This is one of the foundations for Christian stewardship, the giving of my prayers, presence, gifts and service. The pledge that I make to the ministry of this church is the symbolic act of commitment in offering up my gifts. It is a bold act of faith, representing the commitment of all that I have to the cause of Jesus Christ. It is a dramatic way of acting out my faith…so that, as Brother Jim says, “We can become people through whom the cross-shaped love of God can become a tangible, down-to-earth, flesh-and-blood reality.”

St. Paul, in the verse which will be our theme for this campaign, calls the church to faithful stewardship, setting aside contributions for the saints. He concludes with the challenge:

Stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love. (I Cor. 16:13)

In a day when everything seems to be changing—particularly in this day when everything from job security to retiree benefits, all the things we have come to trust in, seem to be changing—it’s the call to stand firm, to live boldly, to live by faith, to live in love, to “Have Faith.”