Perhaps you have visited the Upper Room Chapel in Nashville, Tennessee, and had the opportunity to meditate before the marvelous wood carving and its appointments which so dramatically depict the Last Supper. One of the mysterious features of this particular carving is that no matter where you kneel before the figure of Christ, his eyes gaze strangely into yours. So it must have seemed to the disciples gathered around the table in Jerusalem on that fateful evening. How much more intense it must have been for Judas, and we can but wonder where his eyes were fixed when Jesus uttered those terrible words. "He who has dipped his hand in the dish with me, will betray me" (Matthew 26:23).

So far as the disciples were concerned, they had gathered, as they had done since childhood, to partake of the traditional Passover meal. The streets of Jerusalem were crowded with pious Jews who had come into the city for this express purpose. The ritual was always the same: while at the table, the story of the escape from Egypt would be recounted ... there would be special foods on the table and unleavened bread would be eaten as a reminder of the haste in which the Exodus people had been forced to flee Egypt ... it was always the same.

To the disciples’ surprise however, Jesus suddenly departed from the familiar references; "And he took bread, and gave thanks, and broke it, and gave unto them saying, ‘This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me.’ Likewise also the cup after supper saying, ‘This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you.’ " Jesus had dramatically transformed the Passover supper into the Lord’s Supper on the evening of his "last supper" with them (see also Mark 14:22-24 and Matthew 26:26-29).

The Lord’s Supper:

1. Is a sacrament, meaning that it was instituted by Christ and commanded to be continued "till he come." In Paul’s familiar passage, used in the sacrament ritual, he adds, "For as often as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, ye proclaim the Lord’s death till he comes" (1 Corinthians 11:26).

2. Symbolizes the new covenant. The Old Testament covenant of the Law was sealed with the blood of animal sacrifice. However, this covenant had failed. The prophets themselves had said, "Behold, the days will come, saith Jehovah, that I will make a new convenant with the house of Israel, and with the house of Judah." The covenant of Law was being superseded by the new convenant of love, sealed by the blood of Christ.

3. Uses of common elements. In addition to using the traditional elements of the Passover, bread and wine, Jesus realized that each day when his followers partook of their meals, two things were certain to be on the table ... bread and wine. Consequently, even an ordinary meal would include reminders of the new covenant.

4. Was observed anxiously. Devout early Christians met daily to observe the sacrament in the prayerful hope that Jesus would return while they were sharing the sacred meal. In time, the early Church observed the sacrament each Sunday, a practice continued until the Reformation. Oddly enough, in Scotland, during the sixteenth century, it was observed in the country twice and in town four times a year.

5. Is called the eucharist, meaning the "thanksgiving," based on the passage, "He took a cup, and when he had given thanks...."

Perhaps John Calvin spoke for each of us when he admitted that "the matter is too sublime for me to be able to express, or even to comprehend ... I rather experience it, than understand it."

Believers dare not come to the Lord's Table except with a repentant heart. "Whoever eats this bread or drinks this cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner," as Paul puts it, "drinks judgment to himself." That should be a sobering warning, especially when the apostle adds that because of this offense many have fallen ill or died. Any pastor who takes the Word of God seriously should never administer Communion without adequately warning partakers. Those who are unrepentant should flee the table rather than trivialize the sacred.

And God does not view this sacred act lightly. Pat Novak, pastor in a nonsacramental denomination, discovered this when he was serving as a hospital chaplain intern just outside of Boston several years ago. Pat was making his rounds one summer morning when he was called to visit a patient admitted with an undiagnosed ailment. John, a man in his sixties, had not responded to any treatment; medical tests showed nothing; psychological tests were inconclusive. Yet he was wasting away; he had not even been able to swallow for two weeks. The nurses tried everything. Finally they called the chaplain's office.

When Pat walked into the room, John was sitting limply in his bed, strung with IV tubes, staring listlessly at the wall. He was a tall, grandfatherly man, balding a little, but his sallow skin hung loosely on his face, neck, and arms where the weight had dropped from his frame. His eyes were hollow.

Pat was terrified; he had no idea what to do. But John seemed to brighten a bit as soon as he saw Pat's chaplain badge and invited him to sit down. As they talked, Pat sensed that God was urging him to do something specific: He knew he was to ask John if he wanted to take Communion. Chaplain interns were not encouraged to ask this type of thing in this public hospital, but Pat did.

At that John broke down. "I can't!" he cried. "I've sinned and can't be forgiven."

Pat paused a moment, knowing he was about to break policy again. Then he told John about 1 Corinthians 11 and Paul's admonition that whoever takes Communion in an unworthy manner eats and drinks judgment to himself. And he asked John if he wanted to confess his sin. John nodded gratefully. To this day Pat can't remember the particular sin John confessed, nor would he say if he did, but he recalls that it did not strike him as particularly egregious. Yet it had been draining the life from this man. John wept as he confessed, and Pat laid hands on him, hugged him, and told John his sins were forgiven.

Then Pat got the second urging from the Holy Spirit: Ask him if he wants to take Communion. He did. Pat gave John a Bible and told him he would be back later. Already John was sitting up straighter, with a flicker of light in his eyes.

Pat visited a few more patients and then ate some lunch in the hospital cafeteria. When he left he wrapped an extra piece of bread in a napkin and borrowed a coffee cup from the cafeteria. He ran out to a shop a few blocks away and bought a container of grape juice. Then he returned to John's room with the elements and celebrated Communion with him, again reciting 1 Corinthians 11. John took the bread and chewed it slowly. It was the first time in weeks he had been able to take solid food in his mouth. He took the cup and swallowed. He had been set free.

Within three days John walked out of that hospital. The nurses were so amazed they called the newspaper, which later featured the story of John and Pat, appropriately, in its "LIFE" section.

An inner‑city Boston church was located on what was called Meetinghouse Hill. People who knew what went on in the church, though, called it “Eating House Hill.” The minister, Rev. Allen, always had a huge pot of stew or chili or soup cooking on the stove in the kitchen and lots of fresh bread.

Many people came by that church during the week asking for help paying their rent or utilities. They came to discuss problems with the welfare office or the Social Security Administration or local merchants. They came because their children had just been taken away for alleged neglect, or because they couldn’t get health care, or because they were about to be deported as “illegal aliens.”

This minister never passed the buck. He always seemed to provide cash when needed, and he got on the phone and called people he knew in the agencies and businesses with which people were having trouble. All the time he was ladling out stew and bread.

Ours is an age that is filled with demons. There is more possession going on in the first decade of this 21st century than has gone on in centuries. And the problem is that we don't want to mention it because demons are part of the mythical past. We in our scientific world do not believe in demons. That is because demons are powers that take away our control and leave us at the mercy of powers outside ourselves.

Now, I realize in saying this that there are those of you who are immediately thinking to yourselves, "Oh-oh! The pastor has just stepped off the deep end (again).

It may come as a surprise but one of the key things we need to deal with is demons in our world. We speak of them all the time.

Drug addiction is a demon. Addicts are always speaking of being possessed by the need for their chemical demons. Heroin, cocaine, crack, meth, call them what you will, but they are still "Legion" in the battle for human souls.

Power is a demon. And it not only affects individuals, people who must have power to prove their worth, be the power guns or political influence or the power of terror, but it also affects nations. Nations seek to control and maintain without a sense for the need of justice and mercy. And when that power rises to a crescendo, we see the results in a Hitler or the Klan, or other groups that thrive on hatred and fear. There are the skeletons of many burned-out churches in our land that testify to the demons of power.

Illness is a demon. With all our scientific expertise, you would think that we would be able to put away this demon, but we haven't. In all likelihood, that was the demon of the story we started with this morning. Mental illness is still just as powerful and divisive as ever. It comes as a curse, and we treat its victims as pariahs to be shunned and isolated. The word cancer can make us squirm with discomfort and fear. We run away rather than offering our support and care. AIDS is just as demonic as any other worldly creature. It ravages individuals while others seek to pretend it will go away if one ignores it long enough.

Greed is a demon, threatening to make us slaves of want. Avarice has always been one of the deadly sins, but today the desire to have and to hold is something that many in our society prize and encourage. Things are often more important than people, more important than faith.

As the scripture passage reminds us, the demons are legion. They enslave the individual, destroy the valuable, and release the very worst in us. The only way we can hope to cope with them is to come face to face with one who can drive the demons out and make us willing to sit at his feet, clothed and in our right minds.

As we come to the Lord's Table, we're all sinners in need of salvation, beggars needing bread. We are "the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind" in that third story. Maybe not literally poor, crippled, lame, and blind, but spiritually poor, crippled, lame, and blind. Yet God graciously includes us as guests at God's Table. Good communion table manners include coming to the table without thinking too much of ourselves.

And, finally, good communion table manners include coming without looking down on any other guest, for all of us are God's equally beloved guests. King George IV desired Communion and sent a servant to bring the Bishop of Winchester. When the servant arrived with the Bishop, the King was angry. He felt his servant had taken too long. The King upbraided the man and fired him on the spot.

Having done that, he turned to the Bishop for Communion. But the Bishop refused to proceed. He saw that the King was still angry. Realizing the Bishop was right, the King called for his servant, apologized, and restored the man's job. Only then could Communion proceed. Part of good table manners is extending graciousness to the other guests. As we have been forgiven and welcomed by God, let us forgive and welcome each other.

In one of the episodes of M*A*S*H, the sophisticated shell, inside which Major Winchester protects himself from the horror of the suffering and death with which he constantly deals, breaks; and he is left defenseless. He goes into a type of depression in which he struggles to find some answers to life's most perplexing problem -- death. Finally, in utter desperation, he leaves the base hospital and goes up to the battalion aid station where the wounded are first taken. Colonel Potter discovers where he is and calls him, ordering him to return to the M*A*S*H hospital. A medical corpsman interrupts the conversation and calls the surgeon over to a man who is dying. Winchester confirms the impending death with a glance. The soldier says, "I can't see anything. Hold my hand." The major replies, "I am." "I'm dying," the soldier moans, and this causes the surgeon's unarticulated questions to surface: "Can you see anything? Can you feel anything? I have to know." But the dying soldier doesn't answer. Instead, he says, "I smell bread."

You cannot miss the significance of the symbol. Bread is the symbol for Christ. It is a symbol for going home. It is at the table that we are brought face to face with the person and mission of Jesus Christ. In that meal, we celebrate our death and our life in Christ. But Christ doesn't allow us, any more than he allowed the disciples, to relax and enjoy the fellowship of his table, simply talking about the Lord and what the resurrection experience means to us as though that's all there is to the Easter appearances of the Lord.

If we dare to say, "Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!" We are enjoined to listen and respond to what else he has to say: "You are my witness (Luke 24:48)." Just as the disciples witnessed in the first century of the Christian era, it is our business to show the world by what we do and say that the Lord is really alive and that he is, indeed, the Lord of all. That's a significant part of the continuing story about the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Those who hear it and believe that it is true are charged with the responsibility of passing it on to the rest of the world so that all people will have the opportunity to hear and believe.

There's a beautiful incident recorded by Thomas Pettepiece, a Methodist pastor who was imprisoned during WWII. He was a political prisoner, a prisoner of conscience. Pettepiece writes of his first Easter Sunday spent in prison. He was among 10,000 prisoners. Most of the men had lost everything: their homes, their jobs, their furniture, their contact with their families. It was Easter Sunday, and they wanted to celebrate Communion. But, they had no cup for Communion. They had no wine for Communion. They didn't even have water for Communion. Nor did they have any bread for the Sacrament.

So, they practiced the Communion of Empty Hands. "This meal in which we take part," Pettepeice said, "reminds us of the imprisonment, the torture, the death and final victory of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The bread is the body which he gave for humanity. The fact that we have none represents very well the lack of bread in the hunger of so many millions of human beings. The wine, which we don't have today, is his blood, and represents our dream of a united humanity, of a just society, without difference of race or class."

Then Pettepiece, the pastor, held out his empty hand to the next person on his right, and passed on the imaginary loaf. Each one took a piece and passed it on. Then he said, "Take, eat, this is my body, which is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me." And together they ate the imaginary bread, trying to imagine tasting it.

After a moment they passed around the non-existent chalice, each imagining he was drinking from it. "Take, drink, this is the blood of Christ which was shed for you ... Let us give thanks, sure that Christ is here with us, strengthening us."

They gave thanks to God and then stood up and embraced each other. And a while later, one of the non-Christian prisoners came up to them and said, "You people have something special, which I would like to have." And the father of a girl who had died came up to Pettepiece and said, "Pastor, this was a real experience. I believe that today I discovered what faith is ..." (from Visions of a World Hungry, quoted in A Guide To Prayer, Rueben P. Job and Norman Shawchuck, editors, The Upper Room, p. 143).

It was a cold Christmas Eve a few years ago.  Will Willimon, Dean of the Chapel at Duke University, was rushing his family to get in the car.  They were running late for the communion service.  "Where are the sermon notes?  Where is the pulpit robe?  Don't forget to turn off the lights.  Everybody get in the car and be quiet!"

On the way to the church… rushing through the traffic, their 5-year-old- daughter, Harriet, got sick at her stomach and she up-chucked all over the car.  "Great!"  Will Willimon thought, "If people only knew what preachers go through."  He wheeled into the church parking lot and jumped out of the car, leaving his wife, Patsy, to clean up the car and get the kids into the church… and he thought, "If people only knew what preachers' spouses go through."

His wife, Patsy, led a still unsteady and pale Harriet into the church.  They sat on the back pew in the darkness… just in case Harriet got sick again.  Their son, William, age seven, ran down to the front of the church to sit with his grandparents.  Will Willimon threw on his robe, took a deep breath, and joined the choir for the processional.  He made it through the first part of the service… and the sermon.  Then came Holy Communion.  Will Willimon's wife, Patsy, came down to the altar to receive the sacrament, but she left 5 year old Harriet on the back pew.  Harriet was still so pale and so weak and so sick.  But then something beautiful happened.  Seven-year-old William got up and came back to the communion rail.  "What on earth is he doing?" wondered his parents.  "He's already received communion once.  What is he up to?"  They watched him race to the back of the church and scoot down the pew toward his sister.  He opened his hands… revealing a small piece of bread.  "Harriet," he said, "This is the body of Christ given for you."  Without hesitation, little Harriet picked the bread out of her brother's hands and plopped it into her mouth and said, "Amen."  And in that moment Holy Communion had never been more holy.  Then 7-year-old William patted his 5-year-old sister Harriet on the head.  He smiled.  She smiled.  And then he turned and ran back down to the front of the church to re-join his grandparents.  (The Christian Ministry, July-August 1989, p. 47)

Think of that. Her 7-year-old brother William thought to include her.  Either because she wasn't being included or he thought it might help her feel better he reached out to his sister with what really mattered—the body of Christ in the form of communion.  There's a name for that… it's called LOVE!  What a beautiful thing it is when our children rise to the occasion and teach us once again the power of love, the wonder of love, the miracle of love.

J. O. Sanders offers this interesting description of the counterfeit nature of Satan:

• Satan has his own trinity the devil, the beast, and the false prophet (Revelation 16:13).
• He has his own church, "a synagogue of Satan" (Revelation 2:9).
• He has his own ministers, "ministers of Satan" (2 Corinthians 11:4-5).
• He has formulated his own system of theology "doctrines of demons" (1 Timothy 4:1).
• He has established his own sacrificial system; "The Gentiles...sacrifice to demons" (1 Corinthians 10:20).
• He has his own communion service, "the cup of demons...and the table of demons" (1 Corinthians 10:21).
• His ministers proclaim his own gospel, "a gospel contrary to that which we have preached to you" (Galatians 1:7-8).
• He has his own throne (Revelation 13:2) and his own worshipers (Revelation 13:4).
• So he has developed a thorough imitation of Christianity, viewed as a system of religion.
• In his role as the imitator of God, he inspires false christs, self-constituted messiahs (Matthew 24:4-5).
• He employs false teachers who are specialists in his "theology," to bring in "destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them" (2 Peter 2:1). They are adept at mixing truth and error in such proportions as to make error palatable. They carry on their teaching surreptitiously and often anonymously.
• He sends out false prophets. "And many false prophets will arise, and will mislead many" (Matthew 24:11).
• He introduces false brethren into the church, who "had sneaked in to spy out our liberty...in order to bring us into bondage" (Galatians 2:4).
• He sponsors false apostles who imitate the true (2 Corinthians 11:13).

I was just as naive as I was sincere when I wrote a letter to a missionary in Papua, New Guinea. I was a 19-year-old college student trying to make sense out of the Bible. I was reading the gospels with an ardent desire to believe what I was reading but I kept getting hung up on these stories about demon exorcisms. If the gospels were true then there were real demons in the world and yet I didn't see anyone but quacks and nut cases doing demon exorcisms on TV.

Someone in my college campus ministry suggested to me that we no longer saw demons in the civilized world but that missionaries in remote parts of the world did. I knew the name of a missionary in the terribly primitive region of Papua, New Guinea so I wrote to him. I wanted him to validate the Biblical stories about demons by telling me that he had heard them speak, that he had witnesses an exorcism. I hope he could tell me some really hair-raising stories.

It took him several weeks to answer my letter and it took me a few years to understand his response.

He avoided my request for a description of face-to-face encounters with the demonic. He didn't say anything about hearing them speak or of exorcisms. He did, however, say that there were demons in Papua, New Guinea and that he was shocked that I had not seen anywhere I lived in Memphis, Tennessee. "Do you not see the demons at work in pornography, prostitution, in racial hatred and in poverty?" he asked me.

At first it seemed to me that he just didn't understand my question...later it became obvious to me that I had not understood his answer. Racism, poverty and the whole abuse of women in the sex industry were certainly obviously present in the city where I lived and I accepted that these things were evil but they were everyday things.... things that were always there and always would be there. I wanted to hear about something more biblical...about a demon speaking to a missionary or some vision of demon possession.... he just wanted to write to me about everyday stuff.

He inaugurated the Feast of the Table. He gave them something by which to remember Him. Not a book, not a constitution for an institution, not rhetoric and resolution, not dogma and doctrine, but a fellowship of the table.

He would be the host, and He would be the nourishment for the meal symbolized by bread and wine. This is the fellowship which He had in mind. This table was to be one centering in the kind of friendship that was in Him for everyone.

This is the essence of the church. It is a fellowship, a friendship of reconciliation. It is a community of friends who cohere in and express the covenant/community of Jesus.

How many of you drive yourselves crazy every year trying to have a Martha Stewart's Christmas? You know who you are. And you know as hard as you try you're never able to achieve it. It always turns out to be an Erma Bombeck Christmas doesn't it?

I have a letter here that Martha Stewart sent to Erma Bombeck.

Hi Erma,

This perfectly delightful note is being sent on paper I made myself to tell you what I have been up to. Since it snowed last night, I got up early and made a sled with old barn wood and a glue gun. I hand painted it in gold leaf, got out my loom, and made a blanket in peaches and mauves. Then to make the sled complete, I made a white horse to pull it, from DNA molecules that I had just sitting around in my craft room.

By then, it was time to start making the place mats and napkins for my 20 breakfast guests. I'm serving the old standard Stewart twelve-course breakfast, but I'll let you in on a little secret: I didn't have time to make the tables and chairs this morning, so I used the ones I had on hand.

Before I moved the table into the dining room, I decided to add just a touch of the holidays. So I repainted the room in pinks and stenciled gold stars on the ceiling. Then, while the homemade bread was rising, I took antique candle molds and made the dishes (exactly the same shade of pink) to use for breakfast. These were made from Hungarian clay, which you can get at almost any Hungarian craft store.

Well, I must run. I need to finish the buttonholes on the dress I'm wearing for breakfast. I'll get out the sled and drive this note to the post office as soon as the glue dries on the envelope I'll be making. Hope my breakfast guests don't stay too long, I have 40,000 cranberries to string with bay leaves before my speaking engagement at noon.

Love, Martha Stewart

P.S. When I made the ribbon for this typewriter, I used 1/8-inch gold gauze. I soaked the gauze in a mixture of white grapes and blackberries which I grew, picked, and crushed last week just for fun.

Here is Erma Bombeck's reply: Dear Martha, I'm writing this on the back of an old shopping list, pay no attention to the coffee and jelly stains. I'm 20 minutes late getting my daughter up for school, packing a lunch with one hand, and holding the phone with the other. I'm on hold with the dog pound, seems old Ruff needs bailing out again. Burnt my arm on the curling iron when I was trying to make those cute curly fries, HOW do they do that? Still can't find the scissors to cut out some snowflakes, tried using an old disposable razor...trashed the tablecloth. Tried that cranberry thing, frozen cranberries mashed up after I defrosted them in the microwave. Oh, and don't use Fruity Pebbles as a substitute in that Rice Krispie snowball recipe, unless you happen to like a disgusting shade that resembles puke! The smoke alarm is going off, talk to ya' later.

Love, Erma

Who here is not guilty of trying to have a Martha Stewart Christmas? None of us. "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire," who of us has ever roasted Chestnuts on an open fire? "Dashing through the snow, on a one horse opensleigh." I was 27 years old before I understood they were singing "One horse open sleigh." Up till then I had mumbled those words. We don't have sleighs in Memphis. Last sleigh I owned I was 10 years old. I remember using it once and it came to a grinding halt every ten feet due to the exposure of asphalt.

So much of what we do during this season, if you read the scriptures with more than a cursory glance, is strikingly foreign to that first Christmas.

Ladislas M. Orsy wrote: "There is something wondrous in the taste of bread. It is so ordinary yet it is so good. It is very democratic. It nourishes the poor and the rich. It goes well with meat or fish, with fruit or cheese. It may return three times a day to the table; it may even stay there all day long. Yet it never outstays its welcome." Jesus Christ said, "I myself am the bread of life. No one who comes to me shall ever be hungry; no one who believes in me shall ever thirst."

Years ago this country witnessed the execution of Timothy McVeigh, the man responsible for the worst act of domestic terrorism in U.S. history. A USA Today poll taken in April showed that 81 percent of Americans wanted McVeigh to be executed -- and 28 percent of that support was from people who are normally against the death penalty. No matter where you stand on the issue of capital punishment, this particular execution has forced itself on our consciousness. One thing that particularly caught my attention was that in lieu of any verbal comment, McVeigh gave a handwritten statement to the warden, quoting a section of the poem "Invictus," which is Latin for "unconquered." That poem, by 19th-century British poet William Ernest Henley (1849-1903), reads in part "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." In case you haven't heard the poem, it goes like this:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

From what we've learned of McVeigh's attitudes and opinions, those lines probably come as close as any to a philosophy of life for him. Even to the point of ending the appeals process, McVeigh sought to be the master of his fate. But of course he's not. And in a letter written just a day before his death, he demonstrated how little he understood that. He wrote that if it turned out that there was an afterlife, he would "improvise, adapt and overcome." As if he or any of us will have the ability to affect our environment after arrival in the world to come! Once we are at the judgment seat of God, none of us is any longer master of our fate.

It's worth noting that when the poet Henley wrote those words, he was not thinking of setting his own standard of morality, as McVeigh appears to have done. Far from claiming the right to be judge, jury and executioner of others, Henley was vocalizing his attitude toward the hurts and setbacks of life. At the age of 12, he developed tubercular arthritis, and his left foot was amputated in his teens. He had other health problems later on, and actually wrote "Invictus" while once again in the hospital, too ill to work. He was, as his poem says, "bloody, but unbowed." For Henley, "Invictus" was an expression of courage in the face of life's difficulties, not a license to kill.

McVeigh sounds an awful lot like the attitude of the legion of demons. The demons knew, once they saw Jesus’ boat land near their home town, that their days were numbered. So, they start bartering with Jesus. What are you doing here? What do you want with us? Please, don’t torture us. (There’s a hypocritical request if I ever heard one. They had been torturing this poor man for years and now they are begging for mercy.) Finally, knowing that they would have to leave their host they asked to be sent into a heard of nearby pigs. When this happens the pigs become disoriented and throw themselves along with the demons over the cliff and into the sea where they drown. McVeigh perhaps felt he could master his own fate even the fate that befalls us in the afterlife. Perhaps he will find what he is looking for but the demons did not; they bartered, got what they wanted, and lost!

The full sermon can be found on Sermons.com by doing a Scripture search for Luke 12, the sermon titled, "God, The Enemy."

An interesting story appeared in the appeared in the May 17, 1987 edition of The Atlanta Journal Constitution. It was about a rock hound named Rob Cutshaw who owned a little roadside shop outside Andrews, North Carolina. Like many in the trade, he hunted for rocks, then sold them to collectors or jewelry makers. He knew enough about rocks to decide which to pick up and sell, but he was no expert. He left the appraising of his rocks to other people. As much as he enjoyed the work, it didn't always pay the bills. He occasionally moonlighted, cutting wood to help put bread on the table.

While on a dig twenty years ago, Rob found a rock he described as "purdy and big." He tried unsuccessfully to sell the specimen, and according to the Constitution, kept the rock under his bed or in his closet. He guessed the blue chunk could bring as much as $500 dollars, but he would have taken less if something urgent came up like paying his power bill. That's how close Rob came to hawking for a few hundred dollars what turned out to be the largest, most valuable sapphire ever found. The blue rock that Rob had abandoned to the darkness of a closet many decades ago, now known as "The Star of David" sapphire, weighed nearly a pound and could easily sell for $2.75 million.

Psalm 37:25 - "... yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging bread."

A beggar is a person who lives on the charity of others; there were (and are) professional beggars, who solicited alms publicly, and even went from door to door. They are still numerous in the East; they are usually "lame, maimed, or blind" (Luke 14:13). The commonest and most pathetic form of infirmity is blindness; some of these blind beggars are led by children and have regular places to station themselves.

The begging was sometimes only a simple statement of poverty. "I am poor," "I want a loaf of bread," or "give me the price of a loaf of bread." But occasionally they used the expressive gesture of bringing the forefinger across the teeth and holding it up as a proof that there was absolutely no trace of food in the mouth. It was Amos’ "cleanness of teeth" (Amos 4:6).

The beggars were typical of the Jewish life of Jesus’ time, particularly, and there were a great many of them. The New Testament speaks of several, from Lazarus, who lay covered with sores, wishing that he might be fed with the crumbs that fell from the rich man’s table, and the blind Bartimaeus whom St. Mark shows sitting by the wayside just outside Jericho, to the lame man found by Peter and John at the Beautiful Gate of the Temple.

Although there is no doubt that many of these beggars were professionals, still there were also many who were legitimately sick or crippled, or in some way unable to hold a job. It was in the role of one of these miserable souls that Jesus referred to himself when he spoke of the last judgment: "I was hungry, and you gave me food, thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger, and you brought me home, naked, and you clothed me, sick and you cared for me" (Matthew 25:35-40).

Jerusalem, particularly at the time of the great pilgrimages, was thronged by all the beggars in the Holy Land; they knew very well that those who came to pray for God’s pardon would be in a charitable frame of mind. At other times, the beggars wandered along the roads, going to the markets and the fords of the rivers, and profiting too by the permission the Law gave them to eat ears of corn in the fields and grapes in the vineyards, providing they carried neither basket nor sickle, and to pick up windfalls and gather overlooked bunches.

Just as today, the daily life of Israel was punctuated by the sound of their entreaties. Some of them posed as sent from God; "I am your guest! I am God’s guest! God will direct you! God will recompense you! God will preserve your children! God will prolong your days!" So, today as then, beggars are often the street preachers of the East.

I confess to being somewhat at a loss as to how I might compare the ancient beggar with his modern counterpart. The obvious association is with the charitable organizations which solicit funds and other types of assistance for those less fortunate than ourselves. But I don’t wish to imply that begging, in the ancient sense, is involved here. Modern charity is highly organized, and regimented, and rightly so, for the sake of those who are on the receiving end. But it still involves a giving of that of which we are possessed, whether it be food, money, or clothing - or love. And, in that degree, it becomes comparable to the obligations that are imposed on all of us, not any one class or profession or occupation. We are all enjoined to care for our brothers, and this we might not disobey.

One man who was ousted from his profession for an indiscretion took work as a hod carrier simply to put bread on the table. He was suddenly plunged into a drastically different world; instead of going to an office each day, he was hauling loads of concrete block up to the fifth level of a construction site. Gone was the piped-in music in the corridors; now he had to endure blaring transistors. Any girl who walked by was subject to rude remarks and whistles. Profanity shot through the air, especially from the foreman, whose primary tactics were whining and intimidation; "For -sake, you -, can't you do anything right? I never worked with such a bunch of - in all my life..."

Near the end of the third week, the new employee felt he could take no more. "I'll work till break time this morning," he told himself, "and then that's it. I'm going home." He'd already been the butt of more than one joke when his lack of experience caused him to do something foolish. The stories were retold constantly thereafter. "I just can't handle any more of this." A while later, he decided to finish out the morning and then leave at lunchtime.

Shortly before noon, the foreman came around with paychecks. As he handed the man his envelope, he made his first civil comment to him in three weeks. "Hey, there's a woman working in the front office who knows you. Says she takes care of your kids sometimes." "Who?" He named the woman, who sometimes helped in the nursery of the church where the man and his family worshiped. The foreman then went on with his rounds. When the hod carrier opened his envelope, he found, along with his check, a handwritten note from the payroll clerk: "When one part of the body of Christ suffers, we all suffer with it. Just wanted you to know that I'm praying for you these days." He stared at the note, astonished at God's timing. He hadn't even known the woman worked for this company. Here at his lowest hour, she had given him the courage to go on, to push another wheelbarrow of mortar up that ramp.

Steven Morris was a special needs child in Mrs. Bernaducci's class. Steven was a thin African-American boy who was blind. His handicap negatively impacted his self-esteem. However, over a period of time, the teacher realized that Steven had exceptional hearing.

One day she put the class mascot, a mouse, into the trash can. The scratching noise created a minor panic until Steven located the mouse. Mrs. Bernaducci exclaimed: "Steven, you are truly a wonder."

The nickname caught on. The next year little Stevie Wonder, full of a sense of his own value, began playing the piano. Stevie 'Wonder' would go on to influence and change American music all because of Mrs. Bernaducci's faith and encouragement. 

We all need that kind of encouragement. Especially in times like this. Times that try our souls. Times that cause stress and uncertainty. Times when we want of word of direction from God but God seems to be silent.

We need a word of encouragement. And that's what we get when we come to this table. A little bit of bread and a little bit of wine remind us that Christ died for us to prove God's love for us.

Jesus sat as a child with other Jewish children on the dirt floor of the synagogue in Nazareth to receive instruction from the rabbi. Paul studied at the feet of Gamaliel. John Wesley received instruction at his mother’s knee and later received formal training from some of the most outstanding scholars of his time. Instruction served them, as it serves us, as a strong potion. We are not speaking of education in general here, though the same claim may be made for it. Some things can be learned on one’s own and achieved from personal experience apart from instruction. The focus here is upon that part of our knowledge which has come to us through intentional instruction. There are simply some things which we must be told and have translated or explained.

We are impressed that Jesus was commonly referred to as "Teacher." With all due respect to the group-dynamics people, Jesus did not arrange his hearers in a circle, arm himself with magic markers and newsprint, and ask, "All right, what do you want to talk about today?" To be sure, that is a legitimate technique for group sharing which indeed maximizes general participation, but Jesus chose to instruct. There were some things he had to tell which his listeners did not always know to ask, and we marvel not only at what he told, but also at the never-to-be-forgotten manner in which he told it. His instruction gathered meaning from the ordinary: yeast, birds, lilies, foxes, lost coins, sheep, patches on garments, bridegrooms, vineyards, seed, and the like. Even a major instruction in the closing hours of his ministry, the Last Supper, involved two articles which he knew would be on every table as a daily reminder of the lesson: bread and wine.

The Psalmist too, was given to putting his material in a manner easily remembered. For example, Psalm 119 cleverly arranges its lesson in acrostic form. The 176 verses contain 72 stanzas. Each stanza begins with a sequential letter of the Hebrew alphabet until all 22 letters are used. Simply stated, anyone who could remember the alphabet could memorize the Psalm.

Instruction informs. Information annihilates ignorance. Someone has claimed that we live in a day when we are faced with "third generation biblical illiterates." What a challenge to those of us who are called to instruct. Moreover, the popular quip, "You can believe anything and belong to such-and-such church" would seem to indicate that instruction is either not being laid out or is not being retained.

Instruction prepares. Alexander Pope put it simply: "Just as the twig is bent, the tree’s inclined."

Instruction serves. Tools for the journey and knowledge for the doing! Read 2 Timothy 3:14-17 and reflect on how religious instruction is profitable to those who aspire to follow the way of Christ. How is the Word of God, as the Psalmist proclaims, a "lamp to our feet and a light to our paths"?

There is a marvelous miracle described in Willa Cather's book, Death Comes for the Archbishop. In the story, Father Junipero and his friend, Father Andrea, set out on a journey through a Mexican desert with bread and water for one day. On the second day, they are beginning to lose heart when, near sunset, they see in the distance three very tall cottonwood trees. They rush toward the trees and see a little house. An old Mexican comes out of the house, greets them kindly, and asks them to stay the night. Inside the little house the man's young wife is stirring porridge by the fire. Her young son is beside her playing with a pet lamb. The family shares their supper with the priests, then gives them sheepskins to use for sleeping on the floor. The next morning when they awake, the family is gone, presumably caring for their sheep. Food was set out on the table. The priests eat and continue on their way.

When the brothers at the monastery hear Father Junipero's story, they say they know of the place with the three tall cottonwoods, but insist there is no house there. So Father Junipero and Father Andrea take some of the brothers and travel back to the place. The three tall trees are there, shedding their cotton, but there is no house and no family. The two priests sink down on their knees and kiss the earth, for they know it was the Holy Family that had entertained them there. Father Junipero recalled how he had bent to bless the child after evening prayers. The little boy had lifted his hand and with a tiny finger had made the sign of the cross on Father Junipero's forehead.

Beneath the three trees, there is rest for the weary. 

Bread suggests togetherness, care and love, hopes and dreams, fun and adventure. 

Let's say some new friends invite you to their house for a meal. When you are a guest in their home, they are sharing their intimacy with you. They are sharing with you some of the privacy of that place where they live every day, eat every day, love every day, work on their problems, argue from time to time, sleep and depart for work and pleasure and return for rest, every day.  

After graciously receiving you, they show you around their home in which they take deep pride. Then you go to the dining room for the meal. You find the table set with care, the food exceptionally delicious, and the conversation flows easily. Simply put, it becomes a lovely evening and you leave feeling full in every way. You enjoy bread from the kitchen, but much more. You enjoy the bread of being graciously received, the bread of informed and lively conversation, and the bread of being in beautiful surroundings.. 

Magnify that thousands of times and you begin to have a glimmer of what the church perceives the Holy Eucharist to be. In the Eucharist Jesus and "Bread of Life" are one. In the Eucharist bread and wine are the elements that nurture faith in God.

There's that wonderful story about the little boy who couldn't wait for his new baby sister to come home from the hospital.  He couldn't wait to be near her, to talk to her.  But his parents didn't want him to be left alone with her; he was only four, they wanted to supervise his visits.  He kept begging to be alone with her so one night his parents finally relented.  The boy tiptoed into her room and next to his sister's crib and said:  "Tell me about God - I'm starting to forget." 

We need to gather together around this table every once in awhile to tell each other about God;  to remember just how much God loves us.   To tell the story of how God reached out to us, came to us in Jesus Christ to show us a new way of living.  We need to break the bread and pour the cup to remember that Jesus died so that we might know forgiveness of all our sins and be reconciled with God.   And we need to take this bread and drink this cup to remember that Christ is present with us now.

When the INNS shelter program for the homeless started in Kenosha, I signed up for the training to be a volunteer. After I was trained, I was assigned a three-hour shift on a Sunday night at Lord of Life Lutheran Church, several blocks up the street from my own congregation. My shift was to be from 8:00 till 11:00 P.M. I helped to register the homeless persons as they arrived. Each person received a foam pad for a mattress, a small pillow, a sheet and a blanket. After they had received their gear, we took them into the fellowship hall where they were to sleep on the floor. There was a row of tables and chairs dividing the room. Men slept on one side and women and children on the other. No children registered that evening, but one young woman was in the late stages of pregnancy. Before my shift was through her labor pains had started and an ambulance had been called to take her to the hospital.

In all, about 25 persons came to the shelter on that cold November evening. Most of them were young men in their twenties and thirties. It was evident that they all knew each other, probably because they had sheltered together before on the street and in the churches after the INNS program began. A few of the men were quiet and kept to themselves, but several of them gathered around a large African-American man named Bill, who seemed to be a kind of leader in the group. They shared a warm camaraderie that was a joy to behold. They did not have homes and, in most cases, jobs, but they had each other, and they clearly enjoyed one another's company. About ten o'clock, I went into the kitchen to make popcorn and to distribute snacks that had been provided by members of the churches participating in the program. Almost everyone came to get a cookie and a cup of coffee and then went back to the table where some of the men were engaged in a game of cards. Bill brought out an apple pie which he said he had purchased from among the day-old items at one of the bakeries. He cut the pie up and began to distribute pieces to all of his friends. I stood there watching hungrily, hoping he might offer me a piece, too. I felt guilty about my feelings, because I knew I would be going home in an hour and I could have anything I wanted to eat out of our family's well-stocked pantry. I stood there looking on, envious of their fellowship as I wallowed in my suburban yuppie angst. Bill must have sensed my hunger, because just then he looked up and asked if I would like to have a piece of pie. I eagerly said yes, and quickly joined him and the others at the table. It felt very good to be included in their group. As I ate my pie and joined in the conversation, I became aware that we were sharing what our Lord Jesus called "the bread of life," and I knew I was in his presence.

Grandma, on a winter's day, milked the cows and fed them hay, hitched the mule, drove kids to school...did a washing, mopped the floors, washed the windows and did some chores...Cooked a dish of home-dried fruit, pressed her husband's Sunday suit...swept the parlor, made the bed, baked a dozen loaves of bread...split some firewood and lugged it in, enough to fill the kitchen bin...Cleaned the lamps and put in oil, stewed some apples before they spoiled...churned the butter, baked a cake, then exclaimed, "For goodness sake!" when the calves ran from the pen, and chased them all back in again...Gathered eggs and locked the stable, back to the house and set the table...cooked a supper that was delicious, then washed and dried all dirty dishes...fed the cat and sprinkled clothes, mended a basketful of hose...then opened the organ and began to play: "When You Come to the End of a Perfect Day..."

On Easter morning, before the sunrise service in Carolina Beach, I was standing next to my friend Steve Hall, the minister at St. Paul's Methodist. And the sun hadn't quite peeked out above the horizon, but there was a spectacular red glow all along the skyline, reflecting on the ocean. And I was just about to say, "Steve, I can't figure out why I'm not out here every morning," but he had started to speak first, and he said, "Why am I not out here every morning?"

John, the most sacramental of the four evangelists, puts this scene with the risen Jesus on the beach; and Jesus has built a little campfire, and he asks the disciples returning from their morning trawl to bring some fish to add to the ones he's already got on the grill, along with bread that he has provided.

But Luke has it happening in the house in Jerusalem where the disciples are gathered, and it is evening.

In both cases, Christ's presence is as real as it gets, and he is so alive that, like you and me and every human being in the world, he needs something to eat.

As you and I, members of the body of Christ, try to minister to the world around us, may we remember the real, tangible, physical needs of this world that God loved so much that God gave his only Son.

We are not ghosts. We can do things, build things, make things, share things.  And occasionally, when we have done our daily work for the physical well-being of this absolutely real world, we will have the privilege of sitting at table together, in the presence of the one who opens our eyes, and makes our breaking bread together a sacrament.

From time to time, all of us have been guilty of taking some remarkable things for granted, simply because they have become familiar to us. Take, for instance, the ancient and honorable game of golf. Most of us understand the basic principles of golf. Some of us play golf. Some of us play at it. But suppose you had to explain golf to someone who had never seen it before say an Aborigine from the Australian outback. Don't you think an Aborigine from the Australian outback might find our game of golf rather strange?

"Why is that big man trying to punish that little ball by hitting it with that long stick?" he might ask. "He's not trying to punish the ball," you explain. "He's trying to drive it. He wants to put the little white ball in the tiny hole way over there, about 500 yards away." "Why not just walk over and drop the ball in by hand? It would be a whole lot easier. Trying to hit such a small ball with such a long stick seems like a waste of time." "Well," you respond, "that's part of the challenge. Nobody wants to put the ball in the hole the easy way. In fact, we pay an expert a lot of money to make sure the ground around the hole is especially tricky. See the woods over there, and the rough grass and the pond and the sand traps? Those are all places where the little white ball can get caught or lost."

"Oh, now I get it!" says your friendly Aboriginal visitor. "If it takes a long time to put the ball in the hole, everyone is happy."

You shake your head. "No, if it takes a long time to put the ball in the hole, someone usually gets angry. See that man over there, throwing his clubs around and cursing? He's furious because he just hit his ball into the pond for the third time!" "Then, tell me," your friend asks, with a puzzled look, "why does he bother to play golf at all, if it only makes him angry?"

To which you respond, "That man comes here twice a week to play so he can relax!"

And so it goes. Familiar things, like golf, that we take for granted, can seem strange to others. At the end of the first century, in the time of the early Church, in the days when the Gospel of John was written, about 100 A.D. the sacrament of the Lord's Supper apparently seemed strange to some. It was even controversial. The scripture lesson that I read from John, chapter six, reflects the strangeness some found in the idea of the Lord's Supper an idea to which we have become accustomed. We agree as we take communion that we take the body and blood of Christ into ourselves. Many of the Jews in the first century apparently rejected that idea outright. And, John's passage indicates that even some of Jesus' disciples found the teaching difficult to accept. Take Christ's body and blood into ourselves? They thought it was just plain strange.

Perhaps we have become so familiar with the Sacrament of our Lord's Supper that we sometimes take it for granted. Our lesson encourages us to consider again what communion with Christ means.

Since many of the followers of Jesus were fishermen, it made sense for Jesus to use fishing as an example of the Christian life. In Matthew 4:19, as Jesus is walking by the Sea of Galilee, he sees Simon Peter and Andrew in the process of fishing. He says to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men."

In this text, Jesus gives them another picture of the work they would be doing. On their own, they are not able to catch many fish, but when Jesus commands them to cast the net on the other side of the boat, they catch more fish than they can handle. How are we doing at catching fish? Perhaps the problem is that we keep doing it the same way and the Lord would like us to try a new method.

The apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 9:22 says, "I have become all things to all men, that I might by all means save some." Maybe that's the same as casting your nets on the other side of the boat.

Several years ago when I was visiting Norway, the land of my great-grandparents, I learned something about evangelism. Since my wife was born in Norway, her family was giving us a tour of the country that on occasion was off the beaten track. On our way from Trondheim to the little island of Stord, we came across one of the famous Stave churches. These churches are around 1,000 years old. They are made of wood and are built with large posts or staves that go into the ground. At one time, there were around 1,000 Stave churches; now there are only thirty. One of the reasons is that the wood rots over time. However, the one that we saw had its posts in a rock foundation, and this explains why it is still in existence.

What was really fascinating to me were the symbols on the walls. I recognized most of them but there were some that I did not understand. I asked one of the guides what they meant. She told me that the symbols that I did not recognize were pagan symbols. It seems that when King Olaf became a Christian, he would go into the villages and demand that the people all become Christians. Since the Christian faith was forced on the people, they would display pagan symbols so as to meet the people where they were.

I am not suggesting that we use pagan symbols to reach our current society. However, we can do some things with music and in other areas that would better relate to our culture. If the Norwegians and the apostle Paul can learn that, certainly we can try to relate to our culture without destroying the gospel. Perhaps this is what Jesus meant by casting the net on the other side of the boat.

This statement (Matt 12:32, par Mk. 3:29, Luke 12:10) has been the subject of much questioning. Obviously the reference here is not to the naming of the Holy Spirit in a blasphemous utterance, for in Matt. 12:32 even blasphemy against the Son of man can be forgiven. Among the many attempts at exegesis, the most convincing is the suggestion that the man who blasphemes against the Holy Spirit is he who has recognized that God is working through the Holy Spirit in the actions of Jesus, and who quite consciously "misrepresent faith in God as faith in the devil.  This saying is an extremely serious warning against the demonic and scarcely conceivable potential in man: To declare war on God.  This is not done in weakness and doubt, but by one who has been overcome by the Holy Spirit and who knows very well on whom he is declaring war" (E. Schweizer, The Good News according to Mark, 1971, 87; cf. H.W. Beyer, TDNT I:624; O.E. Evans, "The Unforgivable Sin", ExpT 68, 1956-57, 240-44). This is the blasphemer who does it deliberately, after encounter with the God of grace, as the context shows. For Jesus has just been accused of casting out demons by Beelzebul, the prince of demons. "Therefore he who blasphemes the Spirit is no longer speaking against a God who is distant, about whom he entertains mere foolish thoughts, but against the one who makes evident to him his gracious work, and confirms it with his manifest, divine seal. He is a man who ought to give thanks, not to blaspheme" (A. Schlatter, on Matt. 12:32).

W.L. Lane draws attention to Sifre on Deut. 32:38 (end): "The Holy One, blessed be he, pardons everything else, but on profanation of the Name [i.e. blasphemy] he takes vengeance immediately" (The Gospel of Mark, NLC, 1974, 145) Lane goes on to comment: "This is the danger to which the scribes exposed themselves when they attributed to the agency of Satan the redemption brought by Jesus. The expulsion of demons was a sign of the intrusion of the Kingdom of God. Yet the scribal accusations against Jesus amount to a denial of the power and greatness of the Spirit of God. By assigning the action of Jesus to a demonic origin the scribes betray a perversion of spirit which, in defiance of the truth, chooses to call light darkness. In this historical context, blasphemy against the Holy Spirit denotes the conscious and deliberate rejection of the saving power and grace of God released through Jesus' work and act" (ibid). Thus blasphemy here is much more serious than the taking of the divine name in vain which a believer may have done before coming to repentance and faith.

It may be said to those who have been tormented by fear that they have committed the unforgivable sin that their concern is itself a sign that they have not committed the sin envisaged in Jesus' teaching here. Lane's interpretation also helps to explain the distinction drawn between blasphemy against the Son of man and blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. The distinction suggests that "while an attack on Jesus' own person, as son of Man and therefore 'hidden', is pardonable, any speaking against the power by which he works (i.e. the divine endowment for his messianic ministry) will not be pardoned" (D. Hill, The Gospel of Matthew, New Century Bible, 1972, 318). For such an action would be deliberately to attribute to Satan the action of God himself. (NIDNTT, v. 3, pp. 343-344)

What is blasphemy against the Holy Spirit? Though many suggestions have been offered, I think the answer lies in the context here (Luke 12:7-12) and in the context of redemptive history. Remember that the Holy Spirit had not yet been poured out, and it is the Spirit who causes men to recognize who Jesus is. Hebrews 6 and 10 contain discussions of unforgivable sins, but the distinction between blasphemy against Christ and the Spirit has disappeared. Jesus seemed to be saying this: Because the Holy spirit has not yet been poured out in fullness, the Jews will be forgiven for blaspheming the Son of Man. They will be given a second chance to repent, as we see in the book of Acts. If, however, they continue to blaspheme after the Spirit has come, they will not be forgiven. But what is the sin, specifically? Since it is blasphemy, we must see it essentially as a verbal sin. In context it is the sin of saying that Jesus Christ is of the devil. Jesus was willing to excuse this blasphemy before Pentecost; but, in the new covenant era it is not longer excusable. If a person curses Jesus, but does not really know who Jesus is, that sin is forgivable. But if the Holy Spirit has borne witness to a person that Jesus is indeed the Son of God, and that person curses Him, it cannot be forgiven.

The story is told of a time when Satan held a strategy session for subverting those who were close to salvation. “What shall we do?” asked Satan. A daring demon stood and shouted, “I have it! I know what we can do! We can tell men that there is no life after death, that they die like animals.” Satan’s face fell as he answered, “It will never work. Man is not ignorant; even atheists admit of times when they sense a tomorrow after death.”

Another demon spoke, “Here’s the solution! Let’s say there is no God or if there ever was, he is dead—because even if he started the universe, he has left it now.” Satan replied in dismay, “That won’t work either; most of them know there is a God, even though they don’t seek him.”

Other ideas were presented, but none brought hope to Satan and his underlings. Finally, as they were about to give up, one demon leaped in glee, “I have it! A sure solution!” The other demons crowded around to hear the plan. “Go tell them that God is real and the Bible is God’s Word.” A gasp came from the audience as the demon continued, “And tell them that Jesus is God’s Son and frees men from sin.” The other demons were horror-stricken, thinking that their associate had gone bananas, until, with a smile, he added, “Then tell them that this is not the best time to choose Christ. Help them make excuses for delaying their decision. Tell them there is no hurry!” The demons danced in delight, realizing a workable plan had been discovered.

I heard about a little five-year-old boy who fell out of bed. His cry awakened the entire household. After his mother had safely tucked him back under the covers, she said, "Why did you fall out of bed?" Between tears and sobs, he said, "Well, I guess I went to sleep too close to where I got in."

Far too many Christians make the same mistake. They fall out of the bed of life and go to heaven; yet they slept too close to where they got in. They never learned the difference between union and communion.

Jesus said in v.5, "I am the vine, you are the branches." When you trust Christ, you become a branch in His vine. That is union. But he goes on to say in v.5, "He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit." Now that is communion. Union is the basis of communion. To abide in Christ is a twenty-four hour a day, seven day a week, fifty-two week a year intimate fellowship with Him, so that you become a fruit-bearing branch.

A journalist once asked Carl Sandburg, "What is the ugliest word in the English language?" After a few minutes Sandburg replied, "Exclusive." The ugliness of exclusive depends upon whether we are among the included or the excluded. We pride ourselves on being members of exclusive clubs, living in exclusive neighborhoods, dining at exclusive restaurants, vacationing at exclusive resorts, belonging to exclusive churches. Being an insider carries with it a sense of pride and security. Most of us, however, have been excluded often enough to agree that exclusive is an ugly word. When we are among the marginalized, the rejected, the pushed-aside or the left-out, it hurts!

The conflict in the early church centered on the question of who is in and who is out. Are gentiles to be included? Peter and Paul debated that one until Peter had a dream and concluded that "God shows no partiality" (Acts 10:34). The Book of Acts is the story of God's grace through the Holy Spirit, pushing the early church out to the margins and breaking down the barriers among the people.

Judging people by whether or not they are "one of us" thwarts God's reign of justice, generosity and joy. The disciples missed the power and victory of God's liberating presence in the man casting out demons. Their assumption that only those "following us" could cast out demons blinded them to God's presence in another. Rather than being grateful that demons were cast out, they were upset that the healing was done through someone outside their group.

Martin Luther, believed in demons but he believed in God more. In that great Hymn "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" he writes:

And though this world, with devils filled,
should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed
His truth to triumph through us:

The Prince of Darkness grim,
we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That hymn, first published in 1529, has been called "the greatest hymn of the greatest man of the greatest period of German history." It has also been dubbed the "Battle Hymn of the Reformation" and with good reason. The Reformation touched off one of the most influential movements in world history. But before this famous Battle Hymn could be written Luther had to battle his personal demons and exorcize them from his own life. Luther felt utterly worthless and incapable of carrying the burdens of priesthood. On occasion Luther even flogged himself in an attempt to keep himself from sin.

He was often, he felt, pursued and tormented by Satan and his cohorts. Until one day, while reading Paul's letter to the Romans, he suddenly understood the meaning of God's grace and how it is appropriated by faith. In that moment he came to understand that he was justified before God through faith and not by his works.

You might say that after this experience Luther was no longer possessed by his demons, he was sitting upright, dressed, and in his right mind.

A materialist is one who does not believe in demons and has no interest in what they do. A magician is one who believes too much in demons and has an unhealthy interest in them. As for the demons, they care not which you are, for both are equally in error and thus leave you open to their efforts.

Many churches have been designed in response to consumer surveys. In several Midwestern suburban areas the surveys have had similar results. People want the church to provide a good community center with an excellent gym and Nautilus-caliber training equipment; they want quality affordable day care and after school care for children; they want a variety of self-help and support groups; and they want sermons dealing with timely issues like money management and enhancing self-esteem. What they do not want are worship services where they are asked to participate or sing hymns; and they do not want sermons dealing with topics like sin, personal ethics, world hunger, or self-sacrifice. In response to such trends, a few years ago one of the larger churches in Evansville discontinued serving communion or baptizing people during regular worship services. They discovered that people didn't want religious rituals that talk about the new birth or the body and blood of Christ; they wanted a fellowship that will basically affirm who they are as good and worthwhile individuals and encourage them to maximize their potential. Maybe it's good for the planners to ask what people want out of a church, but it might not hurt also to ask what God wants out of the church.

There is the control issue again. Does God have any control over the church, or is the church simply an institution designed to meet the articulated desires of its members? The woman at the well felt comfortable turning Jesus down. Sometimes we do too.

It was a Maundy Thursday, the Thursday before Easter. The Church was having the traditional communion service. This time the pastor suggested that they serve one another. He also suggested that as they pass the bread and cup they whisper, "The body of Christ, broken for you. The blood of Christ, shed for you."

As the service progressed, one man concentrated on remembering the pastor's words, and thought it would be nice to do this more often. Between him and the aisle was an older woman, not nearly so concerned with the pastor's exact words, but thoroughly understanding their meaning. As she served him she said softly, "Take it. It's for sinners."

Romans 5:8 says: "God showed His love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us."

What better proof of that love could there be. We didn't even have to get cleaned up. We didn't and don't have to do anything except open our hearts and let the love of God flood our souls. All we have to do is reach out our hand to receive the Bread of Life. For it is the Bread of Life who will sustain us and feed us and strengthen us in whatever situation comes our way.

This passage (4:1—11) is often appointed by lectionaries for the first Sunday of Lent. The presumption is that the narrative is of direct relevance for Christians as they enter a period of penitence. Ordinary Christians are unlikely to perceive it so, and with good cause. The story does not correspond with our experience; we do not hold conversations with a visible devil, nor are we whisked from place to place as Jesus is in the story. Moreover, the temptations that Jesus faces are peculiar to him; they seem very remote from those we face day by day. This passage may in fact prompt some to doubt the validity of Hebrews 4:15: "For we have not a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin." What did Jesus know of the temptations that are faced daily by the recovering alcoholic and substance abuser? the lonely divorcee? the struggling business owner? the teenager who covets peer acceptance above all?

There is, however, a common denominator that links all of these with the temptation as ascribed to Jesus. The basic, underlying temptation that Jesus shared with us is the temptation to treat God as less than God. We may not be tempted to turn stones into bread (we are more apt to turn butter into guns, but we are constantly tempted to mistrust God's readiness to empower us to face our trials. None of us is likely to put God to the test by leaping from a cliff, but we are frequently tempted to question God's helpfulness when things go awry; we forget the sure promise, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (II Corinthians 12:9). Pagan idolatry is no more a temptation for us than it was for Jesus, but compromise with the ways of the world is a continuing seduction. It is indeed difficult for us to worship and serve God only. We should be continually grateful that we have a great high priest who, tempted as we are, was able to resist all such temptations by laying hold of Scripture and firmly acknowledging that only God is God.

The author Ron Lee Dunn tells the story of two altar boys. One was born in 1892 in Eastern Europe. The other was born just three years later in a small town in Illinois. Though they lived very separate lives in very different parts of the world, these two altar boys had almost identical experiences. Each boy was given the opportunity to assist his parish priest in the service of communion. While handling the communion cup, they both accidentally spilled some of the wine on the carpet by the altar. There the similarity in their story ends. The priest in the Eastern European church, seeing the purple stain, slapped the altar boy across the face and shouted, "Clumsy oaf! Leave the altar." The little boy grew up to become an atheist and a communist. His name was Marshal Josip Tito - dictator of Yugoslavia for 37 years. The priest in the church in Illinois upon seeing the stain near the altar, knelt down beside the boy and looked him tenderly in the eyes and said, "It's alright son. You'll do better next time. You'll be a fine priest for God someday." That little boy grew up to become the much-loved Bishop Fulton J. Sheen.

There is the gospel! We are drawn, not by wrath and condemnation, but by love. God is love. God draws us by love. That's what Jesus meant when he said, "No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me."

Kathleen Norris writes, "When I think of the demons I need to exorcise, I have to look inward, to my heart and soul. Anger is my best demon, useful whenever I have to go into a Woman Warrior mode, harmful when I use it to gratify myself, either in self-justification, or to deny my fears. My husband, who has a much sweeter nature than I, once told me that my mean streak grieved him, not just because of the pain it cause him but because it was doing me harm. His remark, as wise as that of any desert Abba, felt like an exorcism. Not that my temptation to anger was magically gone, but I was called to pay closer attention to something that badly needed attention, and that was hurting our marriage. It confirmed my understanding of marriage as a holy act: one can no more hide one's true faults from a spouse than from God, and in exorcising the demon of anger, that which could kill is converted, transformed into that which can heal."

What are your best demons? To name them for what they are and how they bring suffering, is half the battle.

Kathleen Norris writes, "When I think of the demons I need to exorcise, I have to look inward, to my heart and soul. Anger is my best demon, useful whenever I have to go into a Woman Warrior mode, harmful when I use it to gratify myself, either in self-justification, or to deny my fears. My husband, who has a much sweeter nature than I, once told me that my mean streak grieved him, not just because of the pain it cause him but because it was doing me harm. His remark, as wise as that of any desert Abba, felt like an exorcism. Not that my temptation to anger was magically gone, but I was called to pay closer attention to something that badly needed attention, and that was hurting our marriage. It confirmed my understanding of marriage as a holy act: one can no more hide one's true faults from a spouse than from God, and in exorcising the demon of anger, that which could kill is converted, transformed into that which can heal."

What are your best demons? To name them for what they are and how they bring suffering, is half the battle.

In polite society we have not wanted to talk much of demons and the demonic. In our liberal, educated culture, we have believed that sin was due mostly to ignorance and that evil could be eradicated by education. In our psychologically enlightened times we have avoided the more ancient religious and mythological language of devils and evil. We have instead preferred words like repression, impulses, sublimation, drives, complexes, phobias, regression, neuroses, psychoses, manic-depressive, schizophrenic and schizoid to name a few.

If we have been suspicious of religious healers and exorcists and spiritual counselors, we have been implicitly trustful of psychiatrists, psychologists, psychoanalysts, counselors and therapy groups. If we have been doubtful of prayer, meditation and conversion, we have been trustful of amphetamines, barbiturates and tranquilizers, not to mention alcohol, cocaine, and marijuana. If in our time witch doctors have disappeared, strangely enough witches have reappeared by the thousands.

Whether demons and the demonic are widely acknowledged in our time may be debated, but that they were common in Jesus' time we can have no doubt. In his time, when most illness was attributable to sin, it was but a short step to attribute all mental illness or epilepsy to demonic powers actually residing in the person and controlling him or her. Thus to cure a person of seizures or dementia or schizophrenia or melancholia, the healer had to have power not only to name the demon, but power to cast him out, to throw him out of the person's life.

Faith honors God and God honors faith! A story from the life of missionaries Robert and Mary Moffat illustrates this truth. For 10 years this couple labored faithfully in Bechuanaland (now called Botswana) without one ray of encouragement to brighten their way. They could not report a single convert. Finally the directors of their mission board began to question the wisdom of continuing the work. The thought of leaving their post, however, brought great grief to this devoted couple, for they felt sure that God was in their labors, and that they would see people turn to Christ in due season. They stayed; and for a year or two longer, darkness reigned.

Then one day a friend in England sent word to the Moffats that she wanted to mail them a gift and asked what they would like. Trusting that in time the Lord would bless their work, Mrs. Moffat replied, "Send us a communion set; I am sure it will soon be needed."

God honored that dear woman's faith. The Holy Spirit moved upon the hearts of the villagers, and soon a little group of six converts was united to form the first Christian church in that land. The communion set from England was delayed in the mail; but on the very day before the first commemoration of the Lord's super in Bechuanaland, the set arrived.

As I mentioned earlier, the faith teachers maintain that when Adam sinned, the world was turned over to Satan. The devil became the legal owner of the planet. The faith teacher's position accommodates the Gnostic view (particularly evident in Zoroastrianism, a Persian Gnostic religion), in which a good god rules the spiritual world and a bad god rules the physical realm. In such a philosophy the problem of evil is solved by blaming everything that goes wrong on the bad god (the devil); the good god is seen as no more than a counterbalance. One is left with the impression that the two gods each possess equal power both in quality and quantity. Everything that is wrong in the world is the fault of the bad god. And it's up to the initiate or believer to make sure the good god wins. Back when Jimmy Swaggart defied the orders of the Assemblies of God to refrain from preaching for one year, he assured the public that he was free of moral defect, for, he said, Oral Roberts had cast out the demons from his body over the phone. Oral Roberts confirmed Swaggart's report, insisting he had demons and their claws deeply embedded in Swaggart's flesh. Now that the rascals were gone, Swaggart and Roberts asserted, Swaggart could get on with preparing the way for Christ's return. Evidently, personal responsibility for sin can be dismissed by blaming it on an external force. Yet Flip Wilson's famous quip, "The devil made me do it" is hardly comedy when we're talking about the biblical view of sin.

For these metaphysical evangelists, even personal sins can be attributed to the bad god, since he is, after all, sovereign over this earthly realm as the good god is relatively in charge of the spiritual domain. Here again, then, is the echo of the Gnostics of old. When that heresy was revived toward the end of the medieval period, Calvin said, "They made the devil almost the equal of God." In this way, the problem of sin is replaced with the problem of Satan. It is facing Satan, not my own sin and rebelliousness, that becomes the great task of the Christian life. I'm not the problem the Devil is!

In polite society we have not wanted to talk much of demons and the demonic. In our liberal, educated culture, we have believed that sin was due mostly to ignorance and that evil could be eradicated by education. In our psychologically enlightened times we have avoided the more ancient religious and mythological language of devils and evil. We have instead preferred words like repression, impulses, sublimation, drives, complexes, phobias, regression, neuroses, psychoses, manic-depressive, schizophrenic and schizoid -- to name a few.

If we have been suspicious of religious healers and exorcists and spiritual counselors, we have been implicitly trustful of psychiatrists, psychologists, psychoanalysts, counselors and therapy groups. If we have been doubtful of prayer, meditation and conversion, we have been trustful of amphetamines, barbiturates and tranquilizers, not to mention alcohol, cocaine, and marijuana. If in our time witch doctors have disappeared, strangely enough witches have reappeared by the thousands. Even exorcists are making a small comeback after considerable media exposure and hype.

Whether demons and the demonic are widely acknowledged in our time may be debated, but that they were common in Jesus' time we can have no doubt. In his time, when most illness was attributable to sin, it was but a short step to attribute all mental illness or epilepsy to demonic powers actually residing in the person and controlling him or her. Thus to cure a person of seizures or dementia or schizophrenia or melancholia, the healer had to have power not only to name the demon, but power to cast him out, to throw him out of the person's life.

1. God destroys as well as preserves [Isaiah 42:14]

Luther says that God is to be both loved and feared. The same God of compassion who is eager to show love to those who turn to him is equally determined to root out and destroy evil. Isaiah is warning us not to be lulled to sleep by thinking only of the kindness of God. He who shows patience toward our waywardness will eventually cease to overlook unatoned sin and will destroy. He holds all the power of the universe in his hands to work his ends. Our eternal destiny is for him to determine. Are we tempting God by clinging to things he opposes? Remember God has said, "I will destroy." The time to repent and make peace with him is now.

2. Christ will restore sight [Isaiah 42:16]

A blind beggar walking down a street on a day in spring carried a sign saying, "It is April, and I am blind." How pitiful that he was blind at any time. But on a spring day it was even worse; he could not see the newly formed leaves on the trees, or the beautiful flowers blooming on every hand. He could not see the earth bathed in sunshine or the glow of a sunset in the western sky. But another blindness is even worse. It can come to those who have retained their physical sight. There is a saying, "None is so blind as he that will not see." When Isaiah talks of the blind he includes everyone who does not have spiritual insight. Children laugh at the phrase, "I see, said the blind man." Yet it is true that the physically blind can see many things which the person with sight overlooks. So God promises to help us in our spiritual blindness. He will show us the path of righteousness, reveal opportunities to serve our fellow man, to improve ourselves, and to see the Christ who is hidden from those who do not believe in Him.

3. Idolators shall be ashamed [Isaiah 42:17]

Idol worship seems like something out of the long past. It brings to mind visions of ignorant people in an earlier age bowing down before a statue which to them is their god. So this verse does not seem to apply to the one who reads it today. Here is where we deceive ourselves. Idolatry is a very subtle thing. It was said of Sampson that he did not know when the Lord had forsaken him, and thought he could go on in strength as he had before. So idolatry creeps upon anyone who is not alert. It is so easy to cater to oneself; to want fame and fortune so badly that we slowly let these desires come between us and God. Beware lest great shame come upon you because idols of today have subtly replaced God in your objectives and desires.

4. God will be praised for his law (Gospel) [Isaiah 42:21]

Our age is one of much disdain for God’s law. The ten commandments are regarded by many as out of date. They are as foolish in disdaining God’s rules and thinking they have outgrown them as was a certain sailor. The captain had pointed out the north star before turning over the wheel to the young seaman. He told the young man to steer constantly toward that star. The captain then took a nap and upon awakening found that the ship was not on course. When he questioned the young sailor what had gone wrong, he was told, "I have sailed past that star, show me another one." No one can sail past the ten commandments. They remain as up-to-date as the day’s news announcements. God has chosen to give honor to his eternal rules, whether they be revealed in the Ten Commandments or in Jesus Christ. The wise will realize the worth of God’s laws and strive to obey and honor them.

In a certain church one Sunday, they celebrated The Lord's Supper. During the "Children's Sermon", the pastor was talking about communion and what it is all about. He told the kids the Bible talks about Holy Communion being a "joyful feast". Then he asked: "What does that mean? Well, "joyful" means happy, right? And a feast is a meal, right?. So a "joyful feast" is a Happy, Meal. And what are the three things we need for a happy meal?" 

Well, you're ahead of me on this one aren't you? The pastor never got to finish the Children's Sermon because one little boy sitting in front hollered out, "Hamburger, fries, and a Coke?"

When evangelist John Wesley (1703-1791) was returning home from a service one night, he was robbed. The thief, however, found his victim to have only a little money and some Christian literature. As the bandit was leaving, Wesley called out, "Stop! I have something more to give you." The surprised robber paused. "My friend," said Wesley, "you may live to regret this sort of life. If you ever do, here's something to remember: 'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin!'" The thief hurried away, and Wesley prayed that his words might bear fruit.

Years later, Wesley was greeting people after a Sunday service when he was approached by a stranger. What a surprise to learn that this visitor, now a believer in Christ as a successful businessman, was the one who had robbed him years before! "I owe it all to you," said the transformed man. "Oh no, my friend," Wesley exclaimed, "not to me, but to the precious blood of Christ that cleanses us from all sin!" 

As John Wesley rode across Hounslow Heath lace one night, singing a favorite hymn, he was startled by a fierce voice shouting, "Halt," while a firm hand seized the horse's bridle. Then the man demanded, "Your money or your life."

Wesley obediently emptied his pockets of the few coins they contained and invited the robber to examine his saddlebags which were filled with books. Disappointed at the result, the robber was turning away when evangelist cried, "Stop! I have something more to give you."

The robber, wondering at this strange call, turned back. Then Wesley, bending down toward him, said in solemn tones, "My friend, you may live to regret this sore of a life in which you are engaged. If you ever do, I beseech you to remember this, 'The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanses us from all sin."' The robber hurried silently away, and the man of God rode along, praying in his heart that the word spoken might be fixed in the robber's conscience.

Years later, at the close of a Sunday evening service with the people streaming from the large building, many lingered around the doors to see the aged preacher, John Wesley.

A stranger stepped forward and earnestly begged to speak with Mr. Wesley. What a surprise to find that this was the robber of Hounslow Heath, now a well-to-do tradesman in the city, but better still, a child of God! The words spoken that night long ago had been used of God in his conversion.

Raising the hand of John Wesley to his lips, he affectionately kissed it and said in tones of deep emotion, "To you, dear sir, I owe it all."

Wesley replied softly, "Nay, nay, my friend, nor to me, but to the precious blood of Christ which cleanseth us from all sin."

In the 14th century, Robert Bruce of Scotland was leading his men in a battle to gain independence from England. Near the end of the conflict, the English wanted to capture Bruce to keep him from the Scottish crown. So they put his own bloodhounds on his trail. When the bloodhounds got close, Bruce could hear their baying. His attendant said, "We are done for. They are on your trail, and they will reveal your hiding place."

Bruce replied, "It's all right." Then he headed for a stream that flowed through the forest. He plunged in and waded upstream a short distance. When he came out on the other bank, he was in the depths of the forest. Within minutes, the hounds, tracing their master's steps, came to the bank. They went no farther. The English soldiers urged them on, but the trail was broken. The stream had carried the scent away. A short time later, the crown of Scotland rested on the head of Robert Bruce.

The memory of our sins, prodded on by Satan, can be like those baying dogs but a stream flows, red with the blood of God's own Son. By grace through faith we are safe. No sin-hound can touch us. The trail is broken by the precious blood of Christ. "The purpose of the cross," someone observed, "is to repair the irreparable."

The cross best proclaims the indisputable fact that we worship a caring God. It is the most popular of all Christian symbols. There is no Christianity without the cross.

The cross shouts God’s words of love to each of us. It is his proclamation of possibility beyond the present. In it is hope for the hopeless, love for the loveless, encouragement for the depressed, and the pronouncement of life beyond death for those who grieve the loss of a friend or contemplate their own demise. Its importance to our faith cannot be over-emphasized, its proclamation must never be subdued. It trumpets, "God cares!" That’s music to our ears - the best news we could ever hear.

As I look at the cross, I cannot help but think of a movie I saw years ago. Few movies in my life have had the impact of Ben Hur. Many scenes made an indelible impression - the great sea battle, the exciting chariot race, the repugnant leprosy colony. Yet, none hit harder than the crucifixion of our Lord. The sound of hammer on nail rings through the air, the cross rises until it suddenly thumps into place. Slowly Jesus’ blood begins to flow - one drop, then another ... a puddle forms beneath the cross. It begins to rain. Water mixes with more blood, and together they begin to trickle down the hillside. The trickle becomes a stream as the blood washes over God’s creation. We are reminded that the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin.

At Calvary God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself. The blood of Christ pouring down the cross restored our relationship with the Father. We cannot fully understand the mystery of God’s plan to recapture a creation gone astray. We only know that all who come to the cross in simple, trusting faith are cleansed by his blood and find peace with the Father.

By his death Jesus has unchained us. Unchained - there is no better word for it. He has set us free from the wages of our sins that only pay dividends in hell and has set us on the positive pathway of a life with God. Our eyes need no longer be downcast; our head has no reason to be between our knees. We are no longer oppressed with our weighty sins, for we have been touched by none other than God. He has cared not just a little but powerfully. His power encountered our sin, and it was no more. His incredible desire to rescue us in spite of everything dispels even the worst sin. But we must be wise enough to permit ourselves and our sins to be encountered by that desire.

Quoted by Anglican Bishop J.D. Ryle about 100 years ago:

A flood of false doctrine has broken in upon us. Men are beginning to tell us "that God is too merciful to punish souls for ever...that all mankind, however wicked and ungodly...will sooner or later be saved." We are to embrace what is called "kinder theology," and treat hell as a pagan fable...This question lies at the very foundation of the whole Gospel. The moral attributes of God, His justice, His holiness, His purity, are all involved in it. The Scripture has spoken plainly and fully on the subject of hell... If words mean anything, there is such a place as hell. If texts are to be interpreted fairly, there are those who will be cast into it...

The same Bible which teaches that God in mercy and compassion sent Christ to die for sinners, does also teach that God hates sin, and must from His very nature punish all who cleave to sin or refuse the salvation He has provided. God knows that I never speak of hell without pain and sorrow. I would gladly offer the salvation of the Gospel to the very chief of sinners. I would willingly say to the vilest and most profligate of mankind on his deathbed, "Repent, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be save." But God forbid that I should ever keep back from mortal man that scripture reveals a hell as well as heaven...that men may be lost as well as saved.