| Sermons |
A Sermon preach by Fr. Charles Moncrief
St. Stephen Anglican Church, Texas
On The Occasion Of Your Ordination
April 29, 2005
Outline
Greetings and Introduction
Honor your office
Preach Jesus
You are not alone
Beloved Archbishop;
Beloved Bishops;
Beloved Clergy;
Beloved Brothers and Sisters in Christ;
Beloved Ordinands Edwin, Jeffrey, John, Paul, and Stanley:
Grace to you and peace from God our Father, from our Lord Jesus the Christ, and from the
Holy Spirit our Comforter and Guide.
Please be seated.
You are familiar with the story from Genesis chapter 22. It is the story of God's call to
Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Abraham bound Isaac on the altar and was preparing to
slay his son for the sacrifice. At the last possible instant the Lord called out to Abraham and
Isaac's life was spared.
Last year a thirteen-year-old girl named Halle read this story in its original language. This
was Halle’s Bat Mitzvah, the equivalent of the Bar Mitzvah for girls of the Jewish faith. I
have a great deal of respect for Halle, and young people like her make me wonder whether
the world is in such bad shape after all.
Halle shared several reflections on this text, and I was impressed with all of them. I want to
share one of those reflections with you this morning. What I want to share is that if you ever
cast yourself in the role of Isaac, or if for some reason someone else casts you in that role, do
not expect an angel of the Lord to come to your rescue.
About a week ago, as I was preparing this opening illustration, the Lord suddenly placed on
my heart our dear brothers of the Global South. Suddenly, I felt a keen awareness of the
Church leaders and their families all through that region. While God did not talk to me as
such, the best English rendering of this burden was, "Humble yourself and honor those who
suffer this day for my sake and for the sake of the Gospel." I thought I had lost control of
the sermon, which would have been a good thing. But the English-language rendering of my
next thought was, "œProceed in your preparation if you can be true to the martyrs."
Now let me share my heart with you because of what I have experienced here in these last
two days.
I heard about some of your dear friends in Sudan who chose death rather than to renounce
their faith in Jesus Christ.
Then I heard about one of you, in prison in Sudan and facing the promise of torture and
death. I heard you say that you escaped from prison and fled three hundred miles on foot --
without shoes -- to Kenya.
Ordinands and congregation, please hear the voice of my heart. I do proceed with this sermon
as planned, trusting in the grace of God to lead me in a path that will honor these men.
Men of God, having spent these few days with all of you, what I am about to say next is more
for the benefit of those attending this service. I am so impressed with your love for God and
with the character that you all display, that I would hesitate to say this to you. But I will.
(One of the Bishops sitting here reminded me that whenever we preach, we must preach to
ourselves as much as we preach to those who hear us, so this is more than a mere formality.)
My original intention was to say to you, men of God, that our Lord by His grace has called you
to the ordered ministry. To put it into more familiar language, you are ordained today
because God wills it. You are worthy of this calling because, simply, God declares it. You did
nothing to earn this ordination, just as you did nothing to earn you salvation. You are
ordained at God"s will, and you will serve at Gods will. All who are assembled here rejoice on
this occasion, and all of us desire your joy and fulfillment in this vocation.
Ah, but I get ahead of myself. The ordained ministry is indeed a high calling, a calling of
great joy and filled with privilege. In the worship services you can do things you could not do
before. In your daily ministry you can do things you could not do before. You get clergy
discounts -- though all I ever get is a free donut on Sunday mornings where our congregation
goes after church. You do indeed enjoy privilege.
But with that privilege comes responsibility. Honor your office, and remember Who called you
to serve in this office. Remember who you are as one called by God. Honor the One Who
called you, and honor the ministry He has called you to do. Remember who you are.
In Sy Montgomery's book, Journey of the Pink Dolphins, the character Necca said, "When
people forget who they are, they forget how to act." Actually, in one form or another, you can
attribute this quote to many sources, including the Holy Scriptures. But the SOURCE of this
quote is not as important as its MEANING.
The only negative thing I have to say to you is this. Don't forget who you are. Don't forget
how to act. You no longer have a private life: no more, and perhaps even less of a private life,
than our two most recent US presidents. You need to assume that the family parrot is going
to live with the town gossip. Everything you say and do reflects on the integrity of your
calling. A greater lesson is that it reflects on the public's perception of God. The enemy is
ever watchful for ways to discredit you, your ministry, and God.
I want to make one thing clear. When people think of wrongdoing, or acting indiscreetly, or
temptations of the flesh, they tend to think of one thing only. But be careful. The temptations
of the flesh include the lure of easy money, or even rich foods. Since some of you have come
from countries in Africa, you are already aware of the economic differences. The poorest of
people in the United States are wealthier than most of the population of the countries you
cam from. While you are here, it will become tempting to grab for this wealth. Don't become
possessed by your possessions.
You want to avoid even the appearance of wrongdoing. Since one of you works for the
government, you are well aware of the risks you take when you drive a government vehicle.
You can park it in front of the local exotic dance club, go into the barbershop next door, and
find out that someone has called your boss to report that you drove the car to an exotic dance
hall.
One morning four men were having breakfast in a coffee shop next to a bank. The leader of
the group said to the others, "You go directly to the branch manager's office, you two go to
teller windows, and I will go to the vault." Someone overheard this discussion and called the
police. When the four men entered the bank, they were picked up and arrested before they
could identify themselves as bank examiners. And their boss back in the office wasn't too
pleased that their indiscretion, simply having their conversation where it could be heard by
others, ruined a surprise audit.
All of which is to say, be careful and uphold the dignity of your office.
Again I call your attention to the sacrifice of Isaac, and to Halle's words. In this country when
someone raises a hand against you, more likely that hand will be holding a pen than a sword.
Even so, if your actions of dishonor bring you to the place of Isaac, a hand of judgment will be
raised. And truly, as Halle said, do not expect an angel of the Lord to save you in the nick of
time.
That was the only negative thing I had to tell you, and I thank God that I'm finished with that
part. Now it gets good.
There is good news in what I am telling you. If you are in the place of Isaac, you will be in
good company. The student of the Torah does not acknowledge the Gospel. But it is for you to
know that God, who saved the son of Abraham, did not save His own Son. No angel came to
the cross at the last minute to deliver Jesus. You are in good company.
It gets better. Jesus was alone when he faced his judgment. In your trials, whether you
deserve them or not, whether life is fair or not, Jesus is there with you. So to say you're in
good company is more than just a comparison of your fate with that of another.
This brings me to the point where I have a challenge for you. I will now say something
controversial, assuming I have not done so already. But bear with me. Hear me out, and then
decide whether you want to disagree with what I'm telling you.
Ordinands, please stand up.
It is safe, it is easy to preach Christ. But I want to challenge you: Give ‘em Jesus. In two
thousand years, and in all the translations and transformations that occurred to give us the
modern English language, the Greek word "Christ" and its Hebrew counterpart, "Messiah,"
have lost the depth and richness of their meanings. The student of the ancient languages will
have some appreciation for these terms, which refer to one anointed of God for a divine
purpose. But even the student, if his or her native language is English, is aware that our
culture has deprived the word "Christ" of the fullness and richness of its original meaning.
Our culture has turned "Christ" into little more than Jesus' last name. So as we grew up,
"Jesus" was what the little kids said, and it brought images of a nice man sitting on a rock
with a child on his knee. Real men said. "Christ." Oh, it is so safe to get into the pulpit or
into the Sunday school classroom, and talk about "Mister Christ." And yet, be assured that
most Christian adults have a longing in their hearts to sing "Jesus Loves Me."
My challenge to you is this. In your private prayer time, pray to get to know Jesus. Tell him
you love him. Feel his heart, beating with yours. Get passionate about the One who went to
the cross because he wanted you in heaven with him. As Christian author Max Lucado said,
He chose the nails because he couldn't stand the thought of being in heaven without . . . you.
Get to know Jesus as your intimate friend. If you don't know Him that way, then change
something so you will. Or let God change you. And the next time you have the chance, preach
Jesus.
Let me ask you now, turn around and look at the people in the congregation. As the song
goes, Have you ever stood in the family,
With the Lord there in their midst?
Seen the face of Christ on your brother?
See these faces? You will see other faces, some older and some younger; some on shorter
bodies, some on taller; some showing joy, some sorrow. All of these faces belong to people
who look to you for authority, some for your interpretation of the word and some for pastoral
care and comfort. All of these people will show you the face of Christ. I challenge you: show
them the heart of Jesus.
Please hold out your hands. Later in this ordination service you will each hear the words,
"Take thou authority." I want you to consider something else in addition to that authority. In
your hands you will hold the heart of Jesus. Offer His heart to a world that so desperately
needs it.
I told you, and I tell you again: you are not alone. Hear the words of Jesus in Matthew 28:20,
as we heard last night. Those words are "I am with you always, even to the end of the age."
Jesus is with you. Every one of you knows what it is like not to be alone. You have all been
graciously and lovingly received by your Archbishop, just as I have. May we all have many
wonderful stories to share of a beautiful friendship. You are not alone.
Look around you, at the other clergy, the ones who call you their colleagues. They're
watching out for you. In that phone call from Archbishop Waterman Wednesday, he talked
about the breastplate of righteousness. He didn't say it, but there is no "back plate." These
men here, your colleagues, they have your back. Just as Jesus, who will one day be your
judge, is the One who prays for you without ceasing, so are your peers and the ones to whose
authority you submit, so are they also ready to bend over backwards to support you in your
ministry. You are not alone.
And there are others, but don't take my word for it. Please turn again and face the
congregation.
Congregation, please rise.
These men, ordained to serve God and His people, are not alone. Will you do all in your power
to support these men in their ministry, and if so, answer "We Will."
I would say you're off to a great start. Thanks be to God.
St. Stephen Anglican Church, Texas
On The Occasion Of Your Ordination
April 29, 2005
Outline
Greetings and Introduction
Honor your office
Preach Jesus
You are not alone
Beloved Archbishop;
Beloved Bishops;
Beloved Clergy;
Beloved Brothers and Sisters in Christ;
Beloved Ordinands Edwin, Jeffrey, John, Paul, and Stanley:
Grace to you and peace from God our Father, from our Lord Jesus the Christ, and from the
Holy Spirit our Comforter and Guide.
Please be seated.
You are familiar with the story from Genesis chapter 22. It is the story of God's call to
Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Abraham bound Isaac on the altar and was preparing to
slay his son for the sacrifice. At the last possible instant the Lord called out to Abraham and
Isaac's life was spared.
Last year a thirteen-year-old girl named Halle read this story in its original language. This
was Halle’s Bat Mitzvah, the equivalent of the Bar Mitzvah for girls of the Jewish faith. I
have a great deal of respect for Halle, and young people like her make me wonder whether
the world is in such bad shape after all.
Halle shared several reflections on this text, and I was impressed with all of them. I want to
share one of those reflections with you this morning. What I want to share is that if you ever
cast yourself in the role of Isaac, or if for some reason someone else casts you in that role, do
not expect an angel of the Lord to come to your rescue.
About a week ago, as I was preparing this opening illustration, the Lord suddenly placed on
my heart our dear brothers of the Global South. Suddenly, I felt a keen awareness of the
Church leaders and their families all through that region. While God did not talk to me as
such, the best English rendering of this burden was, "Humble yourself and honor those who
suffer this day for my sake and for the sake of the Gospel." I thought I had lost control of
the sermon, which would have been a good thing. But the English-language rendering of my
next thought was, "œProceed in your preparation if you can be true to the martyrs."
Now let me share my heart with you because of what I have experienced here in these last
two days.
I heard about some of your dear friends in Sudan who chose death rather than to renounce
their faith in Jesus Christ.
Then I heard about one of you, in prison in Sudan and facing the promise of torture and
death. I heard you say that you escaped from prison and fled three hundred miles on foot --
without shoes -- to Kenya.
Ordinands and congregation, please hear the voice of my heart. I do proceed with this sermon
as planned, trusting in the grace of God to lead me in a path that will honor these men.
Men of God, having spent these few days with all of you, what I am about to say next is more
for the benefit of those attending this service. I am so impressed with your love for God and
with the character that you all display, that I would hesitate to say this to you. But I will.
(One of the Bishops sitting here reminded me that whenever we preach, we must preach to
ourselves as much as we preach to those who hear us, so this is more than a mere formality.)
My original intention was to say to you, men of God, that our Lord by His grace has called you
to the ordered ministry. To put it into more familiar language, you are ordained today
because God wills it. You are worthy of this calling because, simply, God declares it. You did
nothing to earn this ordination, just as you did nothing to earn you salvation. You are
ordained at God"s will, and you will serve at Gods will. All who are assembled here rejoice on
this occasion, and all of us desire your joy and fulfillment in this vocation.
Ah, but I get ahead of myself. The ordained ministry is indeed a high calling, a calling of
great joy and filled with privilege. In the worship services you can do things you could not do
before. In your daily ministry you can do things you could not do before. You get clergy
discounts -- though all I ever get is a free donut on Sunday mornings where our congregation
goes after church. You do indeed enjoy privilege.
But with that privilege comes responsibility. Honor your office, and remember Who called you
to serve in this office. Remember who you are as one called by God. Honor the One Who
called you, and honor the ministry He has called you to do. Remember who you are.
In Sy Montgomery's book, Journey of the Pink Dolphins, the character Necca said, "When
people forget who they are, they forget how to act." Actually, in one form or another, you can
attribute this quote to many sources, including the Holy Scriptures. But the SOURCE of this
quote is not as important as its MEANING.
The only negative thing I have to say to you is this. Don't forget who you are. Don't forget
how to act. You no longer have a private life: no more, and perhaps even less of a private life,
than our two most recent US presidents. You need to assume that the family parrot is going
to live with the town gossip. Everything you say and do reflects on the integrity of your
calling. A greater lesson is that it reflects on the public's perception of God. The enemy is
ever watchful for ways to discredit you, your ministry, and God.
I want to make one thing clear. When people think of wrongdoing, or acting indiscreetly, or
temptations of the flesh, they tend to think of one thing only. But be careful. The temptations
of the flesh include the lure of easy money, or even rich foods. Since some of you have come
from countries in Africa, you are already aware of the economic differences. The poorest of
people in the United States are wealthier than most of the population of the countries you
cam from. While you are here, it will become tempting to grab for this wealth. Don't become
possessed by your possessions.
You want to avoid even the appearance of wrongdoing. Since one of you works for the
government, you are well aware of the risks you take when you drive a government vehicle.
You can park it in front of the local exotic dance club, go into the barbershop next door, and
find out that someone has called your boss to report that you drove the car to an exotic dance
hall.
One morning four men were having breakfast in a coffee shop next to a bank. The leader of
the group said to the others, "You go directly to the branch manager's office, you two go to
teller windows, and I will go to the vault." Someone overheard this discussion and called the
police. When the four men entered the bank, they were picked up and arrested before they
could identify themselves as bank examiners. And their boss back in the office wasn't too
pleased that their indiscretion, simply having their conversation where it could be heard by
others, ruined a surprise audit.
All of which is to say, be careful and uphold the dignity of your office.
Again I call your attention to the sacrifice of Isaac, and to Halle's words. In this country when
someone raises a hand against you, more likely that hand will be holding a pen than a sword.
Even so, if your actions of dishonor bring you to the place of Isaac, a hand of judgment will be
raised. And truly, as Halle said, do not expect an angel of the Lord to save you in the nick of
time.
That was the only negative thing I had to tell you, and I thank God that I'm finished with that
part. Now it gets good.
There is good news in what I am telling you. If you are in the place of Isaac, you will be in
good company. The student of the Torah does not acknowledge the Gospel. But it is for you to
know that God, who saved the son of Abraham, did not save His own Son. No angel came to
the cross at the last minute to deliver Jesus. You are in good company.
It gets better. Jesus was alone when he faced his judgment. In your trials, whether you
deserve them or not, whether life is fair or not, Jesus is there with you. So to say you're in
good company is more than just a comparison of your fate with that of another.
This brings me to the point where I have a challenge for you. I will now say something
controversial, assuming I have not done so already. But bear with me. Hear me out, and then
decide whether you want to disagree with what I'm telling you.
Ordinands, please stand up.
It is safe, it is easy to preach Christ. But I want to challenge you: Give ‘em Jesus. In two
thousand years, and in all the translations and transformations that occurred to give us the
modern English language, the Greek word "Christ" and its Hebrew counterpart, "Messiah,"
have lost the depth and richness of their meanings. The student of the ancient languages will
have some appreciation for these terms, which refer to one anointed of God for a divine
purpose. But even the student, if his or her native language is English, is aware that our
culture has deprived the word "Christ" of the fullness and richness of its original meaning.
Our culture has turned "Christ" into little more than Jesus' last name. So as we grew up,
"Jesus" was what the little kids said, and it brought images of a nice man sitting on a rock
with a child on his knee. Real men said. "Christ." Oh, it is so safe to get into the pulpit or
into the Sunday school classroom, and talk about "Mister Christ." And yet, be assured that
most Christian adults have a longing in their hearts to sing "Jesus Loves Me."
My challenge to you is this. In your private prayer time, pray to get to know Jesus. Tell him
you love him. Feel his heart, beating with yours. Get passionate about the One who went to
the cross because he wanted you in heaven with him. As Christian author Max Lucado said,
He chose the nails because he couldn't stand the thought of being in heaven without . . . you.
Get to know Jesus as your intimate friend. If you don't know Him that way, then change
something so you will. Or let God change you. And the next time you have the chance, preach
Jesus.
Let me ask you now, turn around and look at the people in the congregation. As the song
goes, Have you ever stood in the family,
With the Lord there in their midst?
Seen the face of Christ on your brother?
See these faces? You will see other faces, some older and some younger; some on shorter
bodies, some on taller; some showing joy, some sorrow. All of these faces belong to people
who look to you for authority, some for your interpretation of the word and some for pastoral
care and comfort. All of these people will show you the face of Christ. I challenge you: show
them the heart of Jesus.
Please hold out your hands. Later in this ordination service you will each hear the words,
"Take thou authority." I want you to consider something else in addition to that authority. In
your hands you will hold the heart of Jesus. Offer His heart to a world that so desperately
needs it.
I told you, and I tell you again: you are not alone. Hear the words of Jesus in Matthew 28:20,
as we heard last night. Those words are "I am with you always, even to the end of the age."
Jesus is with you. Every one of you knows what it is like not to be alone. You have all been
graciously and lovingly received by your Archbishop, just as I have. May we all have many
wonderful stories to share of a beautiful friendship. You are not alone.
Look around you, at the other clergy, the ones who call you their colleagues. They're
watching out for you. In that phone call from Archbishop Waterman Wednesday, he talked
about the breastplate of righteousness. He didn't say it, but there is no "back plate." These
men here, your colleagues, they have your back. Just as Jesus, who will one day be your
judge, is the One who prays for you without ceasing, so are your peers and the ones to whose
authority you submit, so are they also ready to bend over backwards to support you in your
ministry. You are not alone.
And there are others, but don't take my word for it. Please turn again and face the
congregation.
Congregation, please rise.
These men, ordained to serve God and His people, are not alone. Will you do all in your power
to support these men in their ministry, and if so, answer "We Will."
I would say you're off to a great start. Thanks be to God.
