Rev. Brent L. White

"I Am Second" is an online collection of personal testimonies of faith.

In an anecdote from my sermon yesterday, I told the congregation that I grew up in a Christian tradition (Southern Baptist) that emphasized the power of the personal testimony. Growing up, it was a common feature of youth camps, retreats, and Sunday night worship services. A testimony is a Christian’s story of what God has done and is doing in their life.

Even in our Methodist tradition, testimonies play an important role. For the eight years during which I sought ordination as a United Methodist clergy, I frequently had to tell (and write about) the story of how I became a Christian, what it’s meant to me, and how I knew God was calling me into pastoral ministry. We didn’t call it either a testimony or story, mind you—why use those words when a more pretentious seminary word like “narrative” is available?

Over time, I learned to tell my story in such a way that its sharp edges were smoothed over. It became more cohesive but also more stylized. My call into pastoral ministry did not unfold as neatly as I described in my account of it. This is no surprise: living life, as opposed to talking about living life, is always much more ambiguous.

But here’s the important point: my testimony is true, regardless whether a journalist or historian would describe it just this way. I believe in the power of testimonies.

With that in mind, you can imagine how pleased I was to find this website, “I Am Second” (there’s also now a book version). “I Am Second” is an online collection of personal testimonies from people (Americans only?) from different walks of life.

Aside from the distractingly modish way in which these testimonies are filmed, I like it. Like most people, I’m more curious about famous people’s testimonies. Aside from some star athletes, the celebrities are mostly B-listers, but that’s O.K. (On what planet does Michael W. Smith qualify as a rock star? The guy from Korn, sure, but why not Alice Cooper?)

One final thought: I watch Survivor. Last season featured a few outspoken Christians on the show. I appreciated their faith and witness. One of them—if you watched the show, you’ll know who I’m talking about—seemed annoying, if not like a mental case. (This is “reality TV,” which means, ironically, that what you see does not reflect reality very well; he may be completely normal in real life.) He talked about Jesus. A lot. Even as he acted, act times, like a jerk. My daughter complained that he wasn’t making us Christians look very good.

I got where she’s coming from, but I disagreed. I said, “Yes, but just think of what this person would be like if he didn’t have Jesus in his life!”

And that’s how we should view a person’s testimony—not so much who they are now, but who they are in relation to who they used to be.

One more bloggish thought before I get back to writing, or thinking about writing, my sermon. I read this profoundly good blog post over on Rachel Held Evans’s blog (written by guest blogger Margot Starbuck—what an awesome name! Is that real?). Starbuck describes a few heroic friends and/or saints who have dedicated a large portion of their lives to serving the poor. They are, as you’ll see from the following excerpt, unlike her (bolded words are from the original post).

I hope you see how terribly convenient all of this is for me. If “loving the poor” is something that only red-caped superheroes do—because they’re retired, or because they’re young and single and kid-free, or because they get paid a teeny tiny salary to do it—then I’m off the hook.  (Because I’m unprofessional, old, married, mothering and decidedly not retired, that’s why.)  If I make engaging with a world in need a really big thing, then it’s kind of like I’m no longer responsible for it.  Which really works for me.

On the other hand, if engaging with a world in need were to be a very small thing—like learning more about the bagboy who tirelessly bags my groceries every week, or shamelessly begging for a baby shower invite to celebrate my favorite waitress at my favorite restaurant, or stopping to help the teen whose car is broken down by the side of the road—then I’d become responsible for it.

My main reason for reflecting on it here is because I see a connection to this Sunday’s scripture and sermon. I’m sure that my sermon will include words about “answering God’s call,” just as Gideon answered the call. As a recently ordained pastor, I’ve been forced to think and write a lot about answering God’s call. The United Methodist Church is intensely interested in the subject when it evaluates candidates for ordination.

But the church also believes that everyone is called by God to Christian service, whether we’re clergy or laypeople. Answering God’s call, therefore, isn’t just for the chosen few. God doesn’t simply call big and important people to do big and important things. If that were so—as Starbuck says—that would be very convenient for most of us. Most of us would be off the hook. As she writes, “If I make engaging with a world in need a really big thing, then it’s kind of like I’m no longer responsible for it.  Which really works for me.”

This Sunday’s scripture doesn’t necessarily prove her point. God did call Gideon to do big things. But as I’ll make clear on Sunday, it certainly wasn’t because he had any special qualifications, talent, or aptitude for the job. He was no conventional hero. In fact, he was kind of a dork.

That should serve as some encouragement, I hope.

So I’m preaching this Sunday about no one’s favorite Bible hero, Gideon, from no one’s favorite book of the Bible, Judges. J. Clinton McCann Jr. was a master of understatement when he wrote the following in his introduction to the book in The Life with God Bible: “The book of Judges is not a source to which the People of God have readily turned for guidance in spiritual formation or instruction in the Spiritual Disciplines.”^†

Christians, in general, don’t like the book of Judges. It is at times disturbingly violent. (Judges 19:22-30 would earn any movie version an NC-17. Some of you are like, “I need to read that!”) Years ago, I stumbled upon something at a Christian bookstore called the Precious Moments Bible, whose stories were illustrated with depictions of those sappy, waif-ish figurines that used to be popular nicknacks. I thought, “What are they going to do with Judges?” Nothing about the book says “Precious Moments.”

We’re so squeamish about Judges that it rates exactly one appearance in the Revised Common Lectionary (concerning the prophetess Deborah), giving the lie to the oft-repeated claim that if we preachers follow the Lectionary we’ll somehow preach or at least hear the “whole Bible” in three years. Please! Not even close. The Lectionary, Protestant or Catholic, omits many of the most troublesome passages of scripture.

Preachers, in my opinion, have an obligation to preach these neglected passages from Judges, including Jael and Sisera, Samson, and, indeed, what I’m preaching this Sunday, the call of Gideon in Judges 6.

Not that I’ve ever done it before, lest you think I’m sitting too high in the saddle of my high horse!

† J. Clinton McCann Jr., “Judges” in The Life with God Bible, NRSV, ed. Richard J. Foster (New York: HarperOne, 2005), 341.

Given how seldom most Christians read the Old, or “First,” Testament, the following words from John Goldingay in the introduction to his For Everyone Old Testament commentary series is worth pondering:

[The Scriptures] were not “old” in the sense of antiquated or out-of-date; I sometimes like to refer to them as the “First Testament” rather than the Old Testament to make that point. For Jesus and the New Testament writers, they were a living resource for understanding God, God’s ways in the world, and God’s ways with us. They were “useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, so that the person who belongs to God can be proficient, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16-17). They were for everyone, in fact. So it’s strange that Christians don’t read them very much. My aim in these volumes is to help you do that.^†

Of course the church rightly applies Paul’s oft-quoted words about scripture to the New Testament, but when Paul wrote them, he was, in fact, referring to the Old Testament. Hmm…

Do our actual Bible reading habits (not to mention preaching habits, Brent) reflect Paul’s perspective?

† John Goldingay, Joshua, Judges & Ruth for Everyone (Louisville, KY: WJK, 2011), 1.

The story of Peter’s walking on water, however briefly, in Matthew 14 is one of the most beloved in the gospels. The lesson we often draw from it is that “if only” Peter had enough faith, he could have walked on water successfully. At the same time, we admire his courage. We say, “Unlike the other 11 disciples who stayed behind in the boat, at least Peter had the guts to take that first step.”

What if this traditional interpretation is wrong? As I argue in today’s sermon, Peter’s faith problem didn’t start after he took those first few steps on the water; his problem started before he left the boat, when he failed to believe Jesus’ reassuring words: “Be encouraged! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.”

Can we trust that Jesus is with us even in the midst of hard times?

Sermon Text: Matthew 14:22-33

The following is my original manuscript.

It’s that time of year. You know what time I’m talking about? It’s the time of year when many of us resolve in this new year to lose some weight. Thanks to parishioners making wonderful holiday treats for me like “haystacks” and chocolate oatmeal no-bake cookies, combined with my own lack of willpower, I gained some weight over the holidays that I want to now lose. And so I listen with interest to all these ads that bombard us on radio and TV, telling us about some new weight loss plan or pill or product or program. They make losing weight seem so easy, so long as we spend a little money first.

Did you hear about Charles Barkley? He’s struggled with weight over the years, and now Weight Watchers is paying him to lose weight on their plan. He’s lost 38 lbs. in three months. The other night, while he was in the broadcasting booth for a Hawks game, Barkley was accidentally caught on mic saying that he thought getting paid to watch sports, as he does, is the biggest scam. But now he realizes that Weight Watchers is the biggest scam. I looked at his words in context, and what he meant was, “I can’t believe they’re paying me to lose weight, something that I would try to do—something I ought to do—anyway.”

If Weight Watchers or some other weight loss program or plan or home-gym company wants to pay me to lose weight and get in better shape, let me go on record saying, “I accept!” Getting paid would certainly give me that extra incentive and make it easier. But “making it easier” is what all these plans, pills, programs, and products promise. When are we going to learn—when will we ever learn—that there are no shortcuts in life? If something is worth having or achieving, there are no shortcuts. There are “longcuts,” to be sure. If you’re trying to lose weight, eating those Munchkins in the back of the chapel are counterproductive. But there are no shortcuts.

One of the themes of this sermon series, and of today’s scripture in particular, is that there are also no shortcuts to living as a faithful follower of Jesus. Read the rest of this entry »

This Sunday I’m preaching an Old Testament passage—I know, I know… It’s been too long. I’m preaching on the call of a very reluctant, very ambiguous hero named Gideon from Judges 6. As you may know, I’m a fan of N.T. Wright’s For Everyone New Testament commentary series. I’m pleased that Westminster John Knox expanded the series to include the Old Testament as well, using an Old Testament scholar named John Goldingray.

I’m sure the commentary is great. (I just removed it from its Amazon box.) But get a load of this cover! Is it really the Old Testament for everyone, or just really attractive young people?