If Jesus Came to my House

​If Jesus Came to my House
Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
August 18, 2019
Proper 15, Year C
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas
 
One of the joys and hazards of moving is finding things you never remembered that you had.  As relatively mobile empty nesters, we have been fierce ‘weeder outers’ of clutter and all manner of items for which we no longer have use.  Apparently, there is a whole self-help movement happening out there, coaching materially laden people to let go and lighten the load, only keeping that which brings joy.
 
Being an avid reader, a constant student, and the child of an academic historian, I have had to come to terms with how to handle books.  In the end, downsized space, frequent moves, and waning back strength have helped motivate me to retain a small proportion of all the books that have passed before my eyes.  I was proud to bring only two boxes of books (albeit two large boxes) to my Emmanuel office, but lo, there are spacious bookshelves in there, and they will be filled in no time.
 
Most of the volumes I brought are Bibles, prayer books, and reference books, but sandwiched between the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church and the United Methodist Hymnal, I discovered a worn children’s book: If Jesus Came to my House.  It is inscribed as a gift to me from my mother when I was a very little boy, and apparently, it has been in my traveling library for many years. 
 
According to my mother, If Jesus Came to my House was part of my early theological instruction.  It features a young boy imagining Jesus coming over to play, including how he would behave and what they would do together.  Clearly the protagonist is British, not only because he is illustrated wearing plaid shorts, a red shirt, and what look to be Mary Janes with no socks, but also because he entertains Jesus for tea and takes him flower picking in his garden.  Nevertheless, the story’s denouement comes when boy accepts that that Jesus may not come, in person, to play like he imagines, but still, he can be kind and good and generous to other friends as he would be to the boy Christ.  And so the last stanza reads:
 
And though he may not visit me
as I have wished he would,
yet even so He’ll bless my house
if I am kind and good.
 
Now my sainted mother, one who very keen on a God of grace, and one who is appropriately wary of a theology of works righteousness, edited the last line to say not: “IF I am kind and good,” but, instead, to say “WHEN I am kind and good.”  Apparently, I grew up with an expectation of holiness and righteousness that was not optional, thus I am that much more grateful for the unlimited mercy of God.
 
All childhood memories aside, the central question of the children’s book is not a bad one to consider.  What if Jesus – in person -- came to our house, to our lives… to our Church?  Would it change our behavior, what we do, how we speak, and how we act?  Given his penchant for loving children, the outcast, and the poor, would he challenge our stewardship of things and of all of our considerable resources?  Given that he possessed almost nothing and changed the world radically, how might he challenge us to seek and hold fast to what matters most?
 
To be sure, human culture has grown more and more material with its focus on what we have, how we look, what we can produce, acquire, and leverage for our own status and privilege.  Legions of books and websites focus on self-actualization and improvement, replacing what is perceived as outmoded religion, with highly marketed products yielding wholeness through spiritual (but not religious) wellness.  Of course, none of this is working out for us as anxiety and depression are more prevalent than ever, and the culture of busyness has become a competitive measure of value and worth. And then, religion itself is coopted at times as so-called right belief becomes a litmus test for righteousness, and when paired with political machinations, such pseudo-faith can become its own form of idolatry.
 
In a number of ways ways, both gentle and, as we see today, not so gentle, the disciples of Luke’s Gospel are warned not to see or affirm themselves as the source of righteousness.  Jesus reminds them that their desire to be in the know -- to be the “in-crowd,” --  to appear closer to Jesus and thus, holier than the rest of everyone else, dulls their compassion, clouds their vision, and dilutes the radical nature of what Jesus comes to proclaim.  When we hear that loving Jesus might bring division even into our own family, it is chilling and challenging.   When I hear this as the Word of the Lord, I am less apt to say, “Thanks be to God” than I am to say, “Wait. What?”
 
Today’s segment of this Gospel is not a sweet story of redemption or an attractive parable of the imminent Kingdom of God.  Instead, it reveals the business end of our Shepherd’s staff, nudging us to wake up, pay attention, and remember that we fall short of the glory of God just like everyone else.  Further it tells us that accepting and embracing Jesus’ Way may well threaten our status quo and our own personal comfort.  There are times and places when standing with Jesus means standing against others, even those closest to us, when the cause of love is at stake.  Coming to terms with societal and personal sinfulness means breaking with societal norms even if that means going along to get along is no longer a tenable position.  Sometimes, greater peace only comes at the cost of a lesser one.
 
Today, we are brought to into a very real tension in balancing the fact that we are all beloved children of a merciful God, and owning the fact that we, as my children say, are not “all that and a bag of chips.”  While I would like to believe that I am a reasonably faithful person who committed to the Church and its ministry, I am just as capable as anyone of being pretty rotten, clay footed, and self-centered.  You all need to know that about me right up front.  And I am not unique in that capacity.
 
To live in this tension is to be honest as well as faithful.  And to return to the book my mother read to me as a child, a reasonable devotional thought is to imagine Jesus coming into our lives, living, working and playing with us, asking how we ought to respond, behave, or even, change.   And here is where her little theological tweak has legs.  Perhaps it is best not to imagine IF Jesus came to our house, but to know that WHEN Jesus comes into our lives, we are the best version of our selves, being and becoming what God is growing us to be.  All of the other stuff of life is just baggage.  And with Jesus, present and alive in our house, really, we are at home.  Amen.