Upon Receiving an Invitation

Here are the thoughts that I shared this morning during our church's communion service. I hope they will be useful to you who follow this  page. waymon

For the last quarter in our intergenerational class back there in the corner we have discussed encounters that Jesus had with a number of people in the gospel narratives.

On this, the third Sunday of Advent, and during this season, encounters with Jesus take on a renewed focus. We shudder to think of what would have happened had He not chosen to enter the world as a baby that night in Bethlehem. There the encounters began, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men. Perhaps nameless others. Today the encounters continue.  And the songs that we sing and the emotions that are stirred signify His encounter with us and ours with Him.  From "Silent Night" to "Sweet Little Jesus Boy" to "There’s a New Kid in Town" lying in a manger down the road. We are touched.

In moments of conversation with Him, amazing things happened. Most of those encounters came in moments of desperation, though not all. While Phillip, Nathaniel, and Nicodemus did not sound desperate, they do speak to the longings that we feel when questions are unasked or even unanswered. Perhaps we also find what we’ve been looking for but did not know or understand. The scenario in Matthew 19 when children were brought to Him and the disciples rebuked them speaks to us as Jesus protected them, spoke words of grace over them, and touched them. Maybe we see ourselves in the disciples or in the children.

Perhaps Mary was more desperate at the wedding and so she directed the servants to do what her son said to do. The man who was paralyzed in Mark 2 who both could walk and have his sins forgiven, and that amazed the crowd.

The demon-possessed man in Mark 5 wanted to follow Jesus, but instead he stayed home and told others about what had happened to him, much to the amazement of others.The sick woman in Mark 5 was healed when she touched the hem of His garment and she heard Jesus say, “Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

The Samaritan woman in John 4, a social outcast with multiple partners, heard words of affirmation from the Messiah and many came to believe because of her.

We could mention Zacchaeus, the Syrophoenician woman and her daughter, the royal official and his son, the woman caught in the act of adultery, Mary and Martha as they grieved the death of their brother, Peter’s reconciliation with Jesus, and those on the road to Emmaus whose eyes were opened. 

The stories are many.

The text invites us into those stories and in doing so, we see Him for who He is and we see ourselves for who and what we are. Their encounters encourage our encounters with Him. Jesus chose them. We are chosen by Him. Maybe we have dramatic stories of being chosen. Maybe we have quieter stories of being chosen.

We are chosen. Jesus chooses us. God chooses us.

We gather around this table as Jesus’ chosen ones. As we have been chosen, so we accept the invitation.

Thankfully, we do not choose who comes to the table. God does that. We may be surprised at who comes to the table, who accepts His invitation. Or, some may be surprised at our presence. You know, it works both ways. In such a large sanctuary, we do not know everyone. Everyone does not know us. 

Such it is with the Kingdom. We are all chosen. Everyone belongs.

In the inviting there is grace offered, in accepting a place at the table, there is grace received, as we sit alongside members of the family. Grace offered. Grace received. And we share in the supper of the Lord.

When we hear the words of this text: Luke 22: 14-22, we see that the supper was held during the larger setting of a chosen people, the Passover Feast. For us, we hear of how Jesus chose His apostles and in so doing chooses us. As He directs them, so He directs us to eat and drink with all of the meaning behind the bread and wine.

“Father, as we eat this bread which is His body which was given for us, we accept His invitation to come and eat. And we say thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

“Father, as we drink this cup which is the cup of the new covenant in His blood we accept His invitation to come and drink. And we say thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

December 16, 2018

Park Avenue Church of Christ

Denison, Texas

Man, Meteor, and Message

Come Sunday morning I’ll be leading the second class on “Encounters with Jesus.” Nathanael’s story from John 1 is the focus this week. It is a curious story.  Placed in the middle of three or so “days” in sequence, it tells the story of one guy, Philip, telling another guy by the name of Nathanael that they had found the Messiah. It is a profound though short story, and he is never heard from again.

As an introduction to the class, I’ll ask, “What is a story of your encounter with another person that shot like a meteor through the sky, but still resonates with you even now?” Depending upon the conversation that is created, I may or may not tell my story of Doc Washington. Here it is for those who want to read it.

Mr. Washington began teaching at the white high school where I attended as a transition from a black high school and a white high school to one school. As I was told, there was an exchange of teachers, some going to Westside High School and some coming to Trinity High School where I went as a prelude to complete integration. He was black.  I was white. He was a teacher. I was a student.

I had all of my science courses with him, biology, chemistry, and physics. Most who know me know that I am not a “science guy,” but for some reason, Mr. Washington saw something in me.  He told me on more than one occasion and in more than one way that I could do science, that I had a good mind. I can still see him now in his white lab coat, and me in my white lab coat, the one that he bought me.  I can still see the lab he set up, and the one in which I mixed chemicals to create hand lotion for the local county fair entry in science. He was engaging, articulate, and to me, he was brilliant and a man ahead of his time. Later I found out that he’d earned a masters from Sam Houston State University and a doctorate from California Berkley. He was an educator for 35 years and he was a veteran of the US Army. 

Beyond all of that, he was a mentor at a challenging time in my life as well as a challenging time in the history of my high school. As a black teacher in a white high school, I heard that he was ostracized by both communities. I, too felt some of that sort of thing, but mine were slight by comparison to what I assume his microaggressions and macroagressions were. I was called on one occasion, “Mr. Washington,” and read it as an insult.  On another occasion I was called a “N****r lover,” and for sure that was an insult. The white lab coat was an invitation to insult both him and me.  No one else had a lab coat at that time.  I was sort of his lab assistant. There was a price to pay.

Besides being on the end of those insults, and I have no idea what kind of insults he experienced, he taught me to believe in myself. He taught me to improvise. When conducting a lab experiment, if everything was not in place, improvise, or use skills of ingenuity. He actually passed out an award for that every so often.  My name was on his awards board more than once. He taught me how to mentor and how to engage with people of different persuasions.  He taught me that learning was imbedded in relationships. He taught me that music is a part of life. He played the saxophone. One evening I walked into a house where my brother and his band were playing.  There sat Mr. Washington. What a moment.  Seriously what a moment. I also learned that the young and the older can hang together.  The last time I saw him I was 18 years of age and he was 43 or so.

I am indebted to him.  A black man living in Jim Crow south believing in a white kid who did not yet believe in himself. He transitioned on March 16, 2010. Oh, to have one more conversation with him.  Just one more.