"I Don't Believe in God"

Tuesday, October 8, 6:30 pm

Fireside Lounge at UW--Milwaukee

Pastor Weedon

The topic is

Tell me about the God you don't believe in --

I probably don't believe in Him either.

Huh.
That's some title.
The more I think about it, the truer I find it to be.
It is rare for someone to reject the God I believe in; it's almost always that they reject a god who -- somehow someway -- is a god-of-merits instead of a God-of-grace.

What's weird is that even many Christians reject the God I believe in, preferring instead of god-of-merits. (But they wouldn't say "I don't believe in God.")

I hope we can finagle a way to attend the presentation.

Witnessing

There was a discussion recently about how people out there in the post-modern Real World (TM) respond to Christians. One of the pastors said something quite wise:

People will react more honestly to "Christianity displayed as important to you than promoted as important for them."

Their Eyes Were Restrained

I didn't recognize my son. My own son. It's shameful.

Paul had asked off for what he thought was Easter weekend. Classes were canceled. He didn't have to work at school, seeing as how Bethany shut down for those most holy days so that students and employees could worship. But he accidentally asked off from his restaurant job on the wrong days. Okay, so he wouldn't come home for Easter. Okay. Sad, but that's the way it goes.

Good Friday, after church, I was taking a quick look at Facebook and email while wolfing down some calories before bed. And in walks this guy. This guy I didn't recognize, and yet did, but didn't. My first thought was that it was my son-in-law Matt. But that wasn't right. And where was Rachel anyway? And the voice wasn't right. So my brain is rapidly rifling through possibilities. My second thought was my son Philip. But he had told us he was spending Thursday night and Saturday night with us -- not Friday night. And then it finally clicked. It's PAUL. No, it's not -- Paul isn't coming home. Yes, it is Paul! Nooooo....

Okay, this all transpired in the space of about 2.4 seconds. But the blankness in my eyes when I looked at my own son and didn't recognize him, right here, standing in my own kitchen ... that stabs my heart.

And yet, it shows how very strongly what we believe affects what we see. We think our eyes are objective: "I'll believe it when I see it." But it's not so cut-&-dried. I believed that Paul was in Mankato for the weekend. My eyes showed me he was standing before me. What I believed overruled what I objectively saw. (He explained soon enough that he found a substitute to take his shifts at the restaurant and scooted away as quick as he could.)

The Emmaus disciples' eyes were restrained on Easter afternoon. It wasn't "magic" that Jesus did to prevent them from recognizing. It wasn't some shape-shifting thing connected to His having a glorified, resurrected body. His disciples didn't recognize Him because they believed He was dead, in a tomb, rotting as corpses are wont to do.

Unbelief is a powerful blindness,
overwhelming even objective evidence.
And it's embarrassing that I understand that.

Funeral Sermons

The best way to tell what a church believes is to attend a couple of funerals. Is the focus on Jesus' redemption of sinners? Is the focus on our feelings? Is the focus on upstanding character of the deceased? What the pastor and the congregation believe --the message is given to the bereaved-- is seen clearly at a funeral.

Unbelievers come to church more for funerals and weddings than they do for any Sunday service. It's the pastor's chance to preach the gospel to those who usually don't bother to listen. What does he say about the Faith when we're staring death in the face? What kind of conditions does the pastor attach to the forgiveness Jesus won? At funerals we see how a church "does evangelism."

For the Joy Set Before Him

Once upon a time, Pastor Wieting arranged an evangelism festival. He asked a Pastor Vetter to come speak. It was awesome! Not about what we should "do" to obey some command to "evangelize" people, but it was all about the Gospel promises to us and to our neighbors. One tidbit has stuck with me these past 20+ years since I heard Pr Vetter.

Some people wonder why God allows evil to continue in this world. "If there really were a God," they say, "He wouldn't have allowed evil to continue." Couldn't God have killed off Adam and Eve, and just started from scratch and gotten it right on His second try?

That's when Pr Vetter pointed out that, if God had done that, He wouldn't have had YOU.

We are sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. If our parents had been wiped out, WE wouldn't BE. If there could have been perfect people on the world, they would have descended from somebody besides our first parents, and so WE would not exist at all.

Come, let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (from Hebrews 12:2)

Pr Vetter said that the Lenten verse tells us that WE are the joy set before Jesus, the reason He endured the cross. To have us as His own is His loving motivation.

1800's Hymns

The funeral yesterday evening for Milly was crowded with non-members. Our insurance agent sat in front of me. The librarian was a couple rows in front of him. Our neighbors across the street were there too. Milly's kids are involved in the community, and their friends and neighbors turned out to support them in their time of grief ... and were blessed (whether they know it or not) to hear the good news of Jesus' forgiveness preached to them in a way that non-Christians too could hear it.

There was a discussion recently over on Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds about hymnody. Some pastors made the case for choosing only the best. Other pastors made the case for allowing people some of their "old favorites" from the hymnal, even though there are stronger hymns that might better vivify faith. Pastor Cwirla called the Favorites "ear candy." Pastor Stuckwisch pointed out that the hymns people have learned by heart are very very dear to them, and unless they are just plain terrible, it is not wise for the shepherd to take away those precious hymns. (Seconded by the woman who is still deeply saddened that there are far too few stanzas of Gerhardt's Christmas and Advent hymns in LSB!)

The hymns at the funeral tonight were "God Loved the World So That He Gave" and "Rock of Ages" and "Abide With Me" and "I Know that My Redeemer Lives." Those are not particularly Lutheran hymns. They're fairly ecumenical. Lots of the non-Lutherans knew these hymns. Even some who have fallen away were still familiar with these hymns. Some of the songs we sang tonight would not pass muster for some pastors. They aren't the strongest choices of hymns available. A few of them have that schmaltzy feel that is so common to hymns from that century ... and which is a big part of what endears those hymns to many people.

But you know what? Those hymns still speak the Gospel. "Nothing in my hand I bring. Simply to Thy cross I cling." "Christ Jesus is the ground of faith who was made flesh and suffered death." "And justified by Jesus' blood, thy Baptism grants the highest good." "What but Thy grace can foil the Tempter's power?" And people knew those hymns. Those familiar hymns could reach folks where something "better" probably would not have.

And isn't that the point?

20-25 years ago I could not have fed my husband the vegetables and whole grains that he willingly and appreciatively eats now. It was a long, slow change-over. Sometimes I would decide [boom!] we were going to start eating right, and no more of this monkeying around. Sad to say, it wasn't only my husband and the kids who had taste-buds revolting at that sudden change to what was good for us; I revolted against my own proclamation. We needed to adjust. We needed to slowly change our palates. And we're not where we "should be" yet. Probably never will be.

No matter what our minds know is good for us, we still want what we want. It may be mac&cheese. Or it may be less-than-stellar hymns. But as long as the bulk of the hymnody in a congregation is excellent and strong, even the "pretty okay" hymns can still have redeeming qualities.

Dying Congregations

We're always being told that "dying congregations" are a very bad thing. Congregations should be ALIVE, not dying, right?

But sometimes the demographics don't hardly allow for anything but a dying congregation. After all, people get old and ... die. In some rural areas, virtually every kid grows up and moves to the city where colleges and employment opportunities are available. In some rural areas, agricultural zoning laws really don't allow for newcomers to move in -- at least not in any numbers. And that's really not a bad thing either: some of the farmland has to be reserved for farming instead of for those new and massive subdivisions and outlying suburbs.

So what happens to congregations in those kinds of areas? The young people move away. New people don't arrive. Old people die. Of course, there are some folks who will drive 30 or 40 or 70 minutes to get to a church where there's liturgy and faithful preaching. But most people either can't or won't drive that far. Seems pretty clear to me that there are congregations that will die.

But those old folks who are living happily in the boonies still need a pastor. The hard thing, then, is what becomes of the pastor who ends up with no income. (Also, this is a compelling factor in why rural congregations in particular should be loathe to sell off their parsonages!)

Attending Funerals

Until I was school-aged, and classes interfered, I remember going to funerals at church with my mom and grandma. They always seemed to be people I didn't know. Of course, I was 4 or 5; who would I know? Probably my mom and grandma knew the deceased, but that didn't make an impression on me. All I knew was that we went to funerals at church, even if I didn't know the people.

So when I grew up and had kids of my own, I went to the funerals at church. I suppose some people thought it was because I was the pastor's wife. But it wasn't. It was because of Mom and Nanna. And because I figured it was just right to go the funeral of those with whom you'd worshiped, those brothers and sisters in Christ, even if you didn't know them that well. They are family, regardless of whether you play cards with them, go to picnics with them, or sit next to them in the pew. So that's what we did. Even when a pastor told me once that it was "sorry" and "pitiful" for people to go to funerals of folks they don't know.

Then Pastor said something in Bible class recently that I never thought of before. He was in the midst of explaining to us how to talk to unbelieving friends and family members and co-workers about the Faith. It wasn't a pep-talk about how to "do evangelism." It was just the simple stuff of what to say (the contents of the creed) and what not to say (your "testimonial"). He mentioned -- somewhat in passing -- that this was why it was important to come to funerals at church, even if you barely know the person. At funerals, the Christian brothers and sisters are speaking the Faith to the mourners. The Christian mourners need to have the support of fellow-Christians in their time of need. But the unbelieving mourners hear the Gospel sung and spoken by the church-family. The unbelievers are there with the church-family and not "just" the pastor (who, in their minds, is there just because it's his job).

Who would've ever thought to list "attend funerals" under the heading "Evangelism Efforts"?