Sept. 14, 2014
Romans 14:1-12
Matt 18:21-35

A friend of mine and seminary classmate has made something of a name for himself in the UCC, serving a few large churches first in MA and now in Chicago. He’s written for some national publications and he’s been mentioned in at least one recent best seller on faith. When I mentioned that I was becoming the pastor of TCC he said, “welcome to this weird and wacky denomination of ours.”

I thought, “that’s kind of odd for someone who is so involved in it,” but to be honest his remark did jive with an impression of the UCC that exists at least in clergy circles that I’ve been a part of. You’ve likely heard what they say UCC stands for: Unitarians Considering Christ. Everything, to an extent, is up for debate. All the major tenants of the faith are considered optional. Even Christ is a matter of opinion. No one has to believe anything in particular. To insist that they do smacks of arrogance in the UCC. Clergy on the outside, however, often shake their heads. “What makes you a church,” they wonder, “if you don’t insist on certain shared doctrine?” (What they may fail to recognize or acknowledge is that there is likely a great deal of theological diversity among the people in the pews of their own congregations).

Nonetheless, the UCC’s own statement of faith may underlie the impression that’s out there. The statement was created in 1957. “This is what we believe!” Then, in 2 years it was modified, and then modified again. We were reviewing it at the UCC Polity course that I’ve been attending at YDS every Tuesday. After some discussion one of my classmates said, “Actually, this statement does a pretty good job of saying very little.” I appreciated the statement, never having seen it before, but I did wonder if that was partly the goal: to say something solid without stating it too strongly, to say something that could be heard as traditionally Christian without necessarily needing to be heard that way.

Another classmate, preparing to be a pastor, said, “Is my church going to expect me to believe all of this?” She seemed worried. The professor responded thoughtfully, “Your church should expect you to be able to do the poetic work of interpreting it in meaningful ways.” In other words, the answer is not “yes,” but it’s not “no” either.

So, we have a statement of faith that is at the same time not necessarily anyone’s faith. There is something, definitely, a little weird and wacky about that. And yet, I would also argue that there’s something wonderful about that.

Did you catch Paul’s words to the Romans? “Who are you to judge someone else’s servants? They stand or fall before their own Lord (and they will stand because The Lord has the power to make them stand”). In other words, your fellow Christians don’t call you Lord, they don’t follow you, and they aren’t your servants. You don’t judge them; Christ does. They will stand not because they are perfect at what they do, but because Christ has the power to make them stand. Christ saves them; they don’t save themselves, nor do you do it. So, relax.

Some of those Roman Christians felt you had to keep kosher and some felt no need. They were saved by faith and grace, not by following the law, they argued. Some felt the need to keep certain observances; others knew them to be unnecessary. The problem was that their knowing led to judging and their judging led to nothing good. It didn’t help them help one another, nor did it help them serve Christ.

The point, Paul seems to say, is there are more important things than being right. In fact, maybe there’s more than one way of being right. That’s what the UCC seems to be saying. Ironically, the UCC has it’s roots in the theologies of reformers who all thought pretty particular things. They even had some pretty significant disagreements. But, rather than being bothered by the differences among these leaders the UCC has embraced their various insights and acknowledged their contributions as important pieces of a larger picture (a picture than can never be entirely clear). So, it’s not that anything goes. It’s more that there is a reverence for the diverse nature of religious experience. There’s an honoring of the transcendence of God and a deep appreciation for God’s ability to be for people, to come to people, to speak to people in ways that people most need. That’s what makes it, I think, so wonderful while also being weird and wacky. God is free to be God on God’s terms, and when we’re not so set on establishing limits, we are freed up to more powerfully receive God.

I remember praying with a colleague of mine. She was going off to a new church and feeling a bit nervous. A group of us were taking a class together on guided prayer, and as we prayed with her she found herself at the front steps of the new church. We then asked her to invite Jesus to be with her. She did, and we waited. Then after a bit she laughed. She said, “Maybe I’m doing this wrong, but Jesus looks exactly like Bob Marley.” We said, “what’s he doing?” “he’s taking my hand and he’s blessing the building.” Then they walked into the sanctuary, and holding her hand they blessed it. They walked through every room of that church and blessed them all together. When they were done they went to her office and Bob Marley sat back in her chair and kicked his feet up on her desk and smiled a great big smile at her.

When her prayer was over most of her anxiety had been replaced with a combination of relief and joy. She knew that Christ would be there with her at that church, and she knew that the real work would be his. What a shame it would have been if my friend weren’t open to Jesus coming like the man who so famously sang, “don’t worry about a thing.” What an experience she would have missed.

Nobody talks about the book The Shack anymore, but a few years ago it made quite the splash and caused a fair bit of controversy. I read it, and honestly, I wasn’t completely clear on what the controversy was. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that God appeared as the Trinity, and the Trinity was imagined in a somewhat unorthodox way. God the Father was a large African Woman. The Spirit was an amorphous wispy Asian woman, and Jesus was a homely middle-eastern man in jeans and a plaid shirt.

The main character, Mackenzie, grew up with an abusive father and just suffered the unimaginable murder of his own daughter. In his despair and loss of faith Mackenzie receives a letter to spend the weekend with God in a cabin in the woods. Though much of the book is about forgiveness, this issue of God’s appearance does come up.

God says, “Mackenzie, I am neither male nor female, even though both genders are derived from my nature. If I choose to appear to you as a man or a woman, it’s because I love you.” Love determines God’s shape. That’s an important thought. God’s love and human need – not our religious predispositions or our adherence to the patriarchal pronouns of our ancient scriptures. God continues, “Hasn’t it always been a problem for you to embrace me as your father? And after what you’ve been through, you couldn’t very well handle a father right now, could you?”
In other words, God’s priority is to come to Mack in a way in which Mack can receive God. God comes in a way that will most open Mack to receiving God’s healing love. That’s what God cares about. God doesn’t seem to care about meeting expectations or fitting into anyone’s dogma.
I’ll end with a quote from another author. “Paul says that all of us will one day stand before the throne of grace, and on that day the questions will not be: Was your theology perfect? Did you point out the sins of others? Did you win the debate? Did you get the practices exactly right? Instead God will ask us: Did you love? Did you forgive? Did you encourage? Did you build up the body? Did you help others become holy? Did you help others serve God?”
These are the things that matter because these are the things, after all, that lead to life.