Demonic, Drunk and Crazy

Matthew 10:16-19, 25-30

I loved being Catholic. I went to Catholic school and mass at least twice a week during the school year. In First Grade, the priest at the time, Father Bird, passed out these stickers that said “God is love.” It was a red heart with white writing. This sticker is burned into my memory not just because it was everywhere, but because it was one of the first things I remember that I could read. I remember my grandma’s station wagon had it on the bumper. There was even a sticker on my elementary schools music teacher’s metal file cabinet. Our priest repeated it often. Our religion classes taught it.

God is love. Due to Jesus’ act on the cross the gates of heaven were thrown open. But there was a catch at my Catholic church. There was no such thing as a free lunch or free ticket to heaven. We had a whole list of people who were going to hell. We knew who was outside of God’s love: women who had abortions, atheists, murderers, and Protestants. You know, the usual suspects. We reduced this good news to only be about us and our tribe. Our particular brand of Christian. This was put into creeds that emphasized that WE have the keys to heaven.

I didn’t know how unloving that can sound until I started working in the Sears stockroom in high school. I was so certain I knew who was bad and who was good, but my world was up-ended. I had this friend who was hired on in the stockroom. He was a year older than I was and attended a different school. We’d always get into philosophical discussions while working in the stock room. I just loved working with him. One day he asked who I thought was going to hell. So I told him. I felt all wise and intelligent. I was articulate and clear and well-reasoned.

My friend then crushed my list. He crushed it in the simple way that even an infant could understand. He asked if he was going to hell because he was the son of a Methodist minister. Well, I liked my friend. He was a smart guy and a hard worker. During our time together, I knew that he knew the bible. He was a thinker as we had great debates and conversations. We became friends over those many months of working together. How could he go to hell? He was seeking to follow in the way of Christ just like I was and frankly, there were areas he was doing a much better job. I had the world divided up into Catholic and everybody else. So I asked more questions and eventually realized I was wrong. Protestants weren’t going to hell.

He then said, “What if I told you that I know someone who had an abortion? What if I told you that it was my girlfriend?” I was stunned. Shocked into silence. Could this be true? I stammered. “Dude… you shouldn’t have done that.”

He looked me dead in the eye and said, “You don’t have a single clue about what I’m talking about. You don’t know why we chose what we chose. You don’t know the situation. You don’t know. You are ignorant. And ignorant doesn’t mean stupid, it means you simply don’t know. And you don’t know.” He said this not in an angry way. He sounded more sad and tired. A bone-weary tone I recognized from my mom when she had a long day at work and still needed to cook dinner and help my sister and me out with our homework. I knew that tone and so I shut up and listened.

“I haven’t even told my parents.” He continued. “And I’m just so tired and I figured if anyone would understand it would be you. I want a kid and I know it would cause a lot more work but I’m all about it. But we found that the fetus wasn’t viable. Organs were growing outside the body. The odds of survival were nil. We got scared. We didn’t want our parents to know. We couldn’t bear their judgment. And my dad’s job might be jeopardized. And even if this child survived in the odds, we couldn’t afford the medical cost. So don’t give me your ignorant judgment. Don’t burden me with that. Just listen and help me heal.”

There are churches like John that came neither eating or drinking, but people say that they have a demon. The Congregationalists are such a tradition. Back then it was a women’s rights issue. We thought that domestic violence would be ended if we just took alcohol out of the picture. This was an easy answer to a complex problem even though our hearts were in the right places. Other churches come like Jesus did, eating and drinking. At my Catholic church growing up, there was the beer tent at the annual parish festival. There are dinner churches which meet over a meal. My friend Vince’s church even brews their own beer. they are called gluttons and drunks by other Christians and even by those who have no faith. There is an astonishing variety of ways to approach God. We have churches that have an amazing light and music show, it’s better than many rock concerts! We have churches that don’t sing at all. We have churches who invite everyone into the full life of the church no matter who they are, and they are called friends of sinners and heretics. Yet the church hasn’t really been called crazy.

The church is often known for its judgment and who it thinks is going to hell. It their book UnChristian, what a new generation thinks about Christianity and why it matters, David Kinnomen and Gabe Lyons state “The generations that include late teens to early 30-somethings believe Christians are judgmental, antihomosexual, hypocritical, too partisan, and sheltered.” Kinnaman looks at ways in which churches’ activities actually may have been unchristian and encourages a return to a more biblical Christianity, a faith that not only focuses on holiness but also loves, accepts and works to understand the world around it.

What can I compare this generation? It’d be nice if this generation would do what Jesus taught. Love, accept and work to understand people. Wouldn’t that be crazy?

One of Jesus’ most famous teachings is about a son who leaves home, lives the rock star life, and returns flat broke and in disgrace. Yet the prodigal son gets a hug and not a lecture. Dad kills the fatted calf without even a sinner’s prayer uttered. Just extravagant welcome. The eldest son can’t stand it. He’s outside the party in his own private hell. He can’t believe his loser brother gets a little heaven. Yet the father comes to him as well and invites him into the party. Will the older brother go? We don’t know.
Yet I believe that the father’s love will be persuasive. I believe that if the father wants everyone at the party, the father will get what the father wants. Because the father is love. God is love. Love wins. Grace is the final word.
I want to live that life in the here and now. I believe that there’s an afterlife, and all are invited and all will be there. That is not to deny hell. I do believe in hell too because I’ve seen it.  The hells of addiction, isolation, depression, violence and war. The hell my friend was in, struggling to come to terms with a hard decision. A decision he wondered if it was the right one. He was in hell and my condemnation kept him there. I missed my calling as a Christian to help bring heaven to him or remind him that God is love.
The weird thing with many Christians ready to damn others to hell is that they miss that when God took on flesh; he went to the earthly hells and tried to get people out. I was one of those Christians so certain, so ready to damn others. I found it so much easier to speak of hell than of actually doing the work of bringing heaven to earth and breaking people out of hell.

In talking with my friend, I realized that the chances of my particular faith or lack there of being 100% right are close to nil. And isn’t our job to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with our God? Let’s do that. And we’ll let God figure who is in and who is out. It’s like in Matthew 25:31-46, the parable of the sheep and goats. The Son of Man will come and sort out the sheep and the goats. But the sheep don’t know they are sheep and the goats don’t know they are goats. Neither knows where they are going and who they are.

Christ also says “I have other sheep than these” in John 10:16. And, “Not everyone who calls out to me, ‘Lord! Lord!’ will enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Only those who actually do the will of my Father in heaven will enter” in Matthew 7:21.

Those verses make me stop and ponder. They make me examine the log in my eye and try to stop looking after the speck in someone else’s. I’m forced not to make that judgment call of who is in and who is out. Instead I’m trying to believe as I am led and trying to get a little heaven on earth and a little less hell. I think it’s the church’s job as well. Our job isn’t to judge but to welcome, love and serve. Soren Kierkegaard tells the story of the parable of the ducks.

There is a town where only ducks live. Every Sunday the ducks waddle out of their houses and waddle down the main street to their church. They waddle into the cathedral and squat in their pews. The duck choir sings and then the duck pastor comes and reads from the duck bible.

He encourages them, “Ducks, God has given you wings!  With these wings you can fly!  With these wings you can rise up and soar like eagles!  No walls can confine you, no fences can hold you.  You have wings and you can fly like birds!”

All the ducks shout “Amen.” And then they waddle home.

Church, it is time to fly! God has given you wings! When God plays the flute, dance! When God’s heart breaks, weep. You can fast like John or you can hang out and party like Jesus, however you bring heaven to earth, do it! Follow your gifts! Because when we do that, when we are that type of crazy church that actually tries to follow Jesus according to our understandings the message gets out. “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.”

I don’t know what burdens you are carrying. I don’t know if you’re surviving paycheck to paycheck and are afraid someone will find out. I don’t know if you’re carrying the weight of a decision you have made recently or in your past, the type that gnaws on you. I don’t know any of this but I do have this crazy belief that we are better together and become fully alive when our whole story is known. Often we feel wise and intelligent with our sophisticated reasoning and our sound logic but God has revealed things to infants. So don’t be offended or even worried if people don’t get what you’re about. John came neither eating or drinking and they called him demonic. Jesus came eating and drinking and they called him drunk and crazy. If John and Jesus got called these names, if they couldn’t pull off a perfect public relations record, then we shouldn’t be worried about messing this up. Fear not. Follow Christ. For God is pleading with us who are so hard-hearted, “Just do what I ask. Love me, love your neighbor. That’s it. Now get to work. Welcome, love and serve. Leave the judgement to me.”

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