Scripture: Deuteronomy 10:11-21; I Peter
2:1-10
(1) Rid yourselves, therefore, of all malice, and all guile, insincerity, envy, and
all slander. (2) Like newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk, so that by it
you may grow into salvation- (3) if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. (4) Come
to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God's sight,
and (5) like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy
priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (6) For
it stands in scripture: "See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and
precious; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame." (7) To you then who
believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe, "The stone that the
builders rejected has become the very head of the corner," (8) and "A stone that
makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them fall." They stumble because they
disobey the word, as they were destined to do. (9) But you are a chosen race, a royal
priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty
acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. (10) Once you were
not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you
have received mercy.
-- I Peter 2: 1-10
Can you see them there? A group of early Christians, somewhere in the Mediterranean
world, is gathering in a small house church. They're a motley assemblage of broken
humanity. They all do not look alike or sound alike. They come from many walks of life,
many backgrounds and cultures. Most are poor. A few are not. All are in need.
One who had enough of the goods of this world to own a house opens his home and his
heart to the rest of them so that they would have a place to gather, worship and feel
safe. They give each other the kiss of peace and settle down to learn and pray and wait
for good news to illumine their lives and take away some of the dark.
They don't know each other well because they've only been together a short time. They
are a company of strangers. But they are home. For many of them, maybe all of them, as
they gather in that house church, they are in the only true home they have ever known.
Their teacher reads them today's New Testament lesson, known to us as the First Letter
of Peter. The teacher begins by telling these newly gathered people, freshly baptized,
they are like "newborn infants." And they are. They have just begun to live as
Christians. They have just started to follow Jesus. Entire new lives in Christ stretch out
before them whether they live another 50 years or whether they make it through this week
or even this day.
There they are babes, enveloped in a new kind of love, wrapped in a blanket of grace
beyond any thing they ever imagined or experienced heretofore.
Some of them had suffered rejection from their family and friends and could never go
back They were like those who live in countries like Pakistan or Iran where once you are
baptized there's a good chance you can never go home again. When family members and
friends find out they may never speak to you again. When you decide to be baptized, you
know it also means to be exiled within your own family and village and to be without a
home. That's what it was like for some of them.
But its not just external rejection we're talking about, it's the internal kind that is
more insidious. It's the kind that's deep inside, where you believe what they say and you
find it hard to shake off the belief that you are inadequate.
These early Christians suffered rejection, yet, says their teacher, "They are
chosen and precious in God's sight." What the world has rejected, God has chosen.
It's a theme that Paul also takes up in his letters. In First Corinthians he says,
"God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in
the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things
that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are."
The writer of First Peter goes on to tell them that they "a holy priesthood, to
offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God." In ancient Israel, priests were those
who stood at the altar and offered sacrifices. They'd offer gifts to God on behalf of the
world. These priests were set apart to do special rites on the Sabbath, but in Christ, by
baptism, now all are priests, every baptized person can now make sacrifices, little altars
everywhere, every day of the week at home and hearth, at work and play through acts of
compassion and courage, sympathy and hope. They can do so because they now know they
belong and that inside them is a little glowing flame of God that no one can extinguish.
So the writer tells the early Christians that they "are a chosen race, a royal
priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people." These words are images that once were
applied only to Israel, God's chosen people. Now they are applied to everyone who has been
baptized. Now, everyone is chosen, precious, royal, holy, God's own.
How strange these words must have seemed to those who gathered there in that little
house church. They were such a minority, so insignificant, strangers in a strange land,
exiles, rejected. Now they are priests? Royalty? And then the teacher tells why. "In
order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his
marvelous light."
Why have these common, ordinary people been made into priests, royalty and chosen? For
special privileges? In order to be inoculated from the world's injustices or hardships? To
live charmed lives? No, he says, "That you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who
called you out of darkness into his marvelous light." In baptism all of are to
proclaim God's mighty deeds, all of us, everyone is called not only to make all of life
holy, a sacrament, but also to preach. To proclaim not only with words, but also deeds,
the mighty acts of God.
Once we were "not a people," says the teacher. We were nobodies, people with
nothing in common. We were dispersed, separated, alienated and fragmented. Now, look
around this church. We are family. We're home here. Whether we just stepped on American
soil from Seoul or Teheran or Tijuana, whether we are a certified Pasadena blue blood born
and bred here, we are now God's people. Everyone here today, by baptism in Christ, is
royalty, a priest commissioned to live sacramentally, to preach mighty deeds, not in some
sanctuary apart from the world, but to bring sacrificial, hope bearing love into every
nook and cranny of every darkened place in the world.
You may be the only sacrament in someone's life to bring holiness and hope to his or
her darkness. You may be the only preacher in your own little corner of your world to
proclaim the mighty deeds of God and to bring marvelous light.
Everyone in the lunchroom at school left the new girl alone in the corner to eat by
herself. She was from another part of the world. She almost never spoke in class and when
she did you could barely understand her. Her accent was strange and her manner as well. He
left his friends and sat down with the new girl and they talked, awkwardly at first, but
by the time lunch was over the new girl smiled, a universal smile of being accepted,
welcomed, brought home.
His friends asked him why he had gone over to that weird girl and he said, "It was
the right thing to do." "But why?" they demanded. "Because I'm trying
to be a Christian," he said.
In a world where conformity is the norm it is amazing that anyone steps out, stands up
and pushes the boundaries, but when we do we are a gift of God: a sacrament, an altar, a
mighty deed of God, proclaimed and practiced.
The couple had been through hell and back and they had really tried to hold their
relationship together. They tried counseling repeatedly. They prayed. They were in groups.
But whatever the reasons were after years of effort and broken hearts, they decided their
marriage needed to end. But they decided to do it well. They treated each other with
respect. They collaborated beyond expectation about the future of their children and the
division of their assets. When the divorce hearing ended, the judge was dumfounded and
said, "In all my experience on the bench, I have never seen a divorcing couple treat
each other so well. How do you do it?"
They looked at each other and then at the judge and said, "We are imperfect
people. We have hurt one another, but we are trying to follow Christ. Though our marriage
is over, we still have a duty to treat each other with care and respect."
These two are priests, royalty, proclaiming mighty deeds of God even in the midst of
such darkness.
Church after church had turned them away, not because they did so consciously, but
because it was easier to associate with one's own kind, among one's own kin. One church
closed the door to them in the name of family values, when all the couple wanted to do was
deepen their relationship with God. Another church feared that their traditions would be
lost, if they let "them" in. They spoke a different language and their food had
different odors. Another was happy and satisfied and proper and could not hear the pain
knocking at their door. But that's not the way it is here.
You and I, by virtue of our baptism in Christ, are chosen by God to be God's priests,
to serve Christ and to proclaim his marvelous deeds to the world. We are royalty. Once we
were nothing, but God doesn't make junk, and now we are precious and because we are
precious, every human being is precious. All are welcomed. Every moment is sacramental.
Every encounter is an opportunity to proclaim that God is at work, bringing light,
bringing light from the darkness.
You and I are here in this home, in this family of God, PPC, because someone else,
someone withing this congregation or another congregation was a sacrament to you, a
proclamation of a mighty deed. Someone ordinary person, lived the faith before you in an
extraordinary way such that you saw Christ in them and you said, in the deepest place in
yourself, "I've come home." A light was kindled in you and some how you were
called to do the same for others. That's why were here. That's why we are here, that is
why we come home to this place, to God's house. We who were nobodies have become
somebodies, because someone two thousand years ago, reached out to us from a cross and
welcomed us home And because we believe it, we proclaim the mighty acts of him who called
us out of darkness into God's marvelous light. Thanks be to God. Welcome home. Amen.
