Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on July 17, 2016
Scripture text: Luke 10:38-42

I find our Gospel text today baffling and frustrating in equal measure. It seems to neither fit in with the Jesus we see elsewhere in the Gospel, nor does it seem to provide encouragement for those Christians who follow in his model of mission and ministry.

Jesus, in the Gospels, is a doer. Yes, there are sections of the Gospels dedicated to his teaching, some of them quite long, but even those have a certain kineticism to them. Jesus is in motion; he’s doing things. He’s teaching while he’s healing the sick. He’s telling parables while he’s traveling on the road to his next destination. He is not an idle sage sitting on a mountaintop, a mystic we must seek out to find his wisdom. He’s right there in the midst of everything, right in the middle of the busyness and craziness of life.

And his words to his followers reflect this as well. His most famous commands: “Go ye therefore and make disciples” and “love one another.” One can hardly sit idle and go nowhere in order to make disciples of the whole world and love, in Jesus’ understanding, is not mere passive emotion. To love means to do loving things. To feed the hungry. To bind up the brokenhearted. To cure the sick. To speak for the voiceless.

That’s who I try to be. That’s the sort of Christian I seek in my own journey to become. And it is, as you’ve undoubtedly figured out by now, the sort of Christian that I, as your pastor, am guiding you to become. The work of the Church is out there, I say. We’ve got this whole big world full of problems. We’ve got poverty and war and terrorism and racism and xenophobia and we as the Church are called to address these things. And we can’t do that stuck in here.

I am a Martha and I encourage others to be so. And yet Jesus, in this story, encourages the opposite.

Grrrr!!! Why does he have to make things so blasted complicated?

I want to share with you an anecdote from this past week. You all know, since I make it pretty clear, that I am a supporter of #BlackLivesMatter. I believe very firmly in the dignity of all people, especially those our society has deemed of lesser value. I’ve had extensive anti-racism training. I’ve seen the numbers, the statistics, that reveal that the movement and the black community does have a legitimate grievance here. I’ve heard the commentary of experts on the subject. I strive to have an informed opinion about these matters.

My mother-in-law, earlier this week, asked me if I’d done that homework, because she didn’t feel that I’ve made that clear in my recent commentaries on my blog. That’s a valid critique. I do know where I’m coming from and I do know what I believe. And I also know that hard data backs that up. But I haven’t been as solid on pointing out that hard data, not as solid on giving my opinions and thoughts that extra muscle that shows why I believe what I do.

So why am I telling you this? Well, it comes back to the question of “why do I believe what I do.” And that’s a question that’s good for just about any topic. Why do I support this idea? Well, because of X, Y, and Z. Why do I like this music group or this game or this TV show? Well, because of…(fill in the blank).

We don’t always ask those sorts of questions. Sometimes, it’s because we don’t know the answer. Sometimes, it’s because we take the answers for granted. And sometimes, it’s because we think the answer is so obvious that surely there’s no reason to even ask the question. But in that assumption, there is a trap and I believe it is the very trap that Jesus is talking about in our Gospel lesson.

Yes, Martha is busy. But her busyness is purposeless. It lacks meaning. It’s being done because (and we all love this phrase in the Church) “that’s the way we’ve always done it.” She’s abiding by her community’s standards of hospitality without realizing anything or everything else that’s going on. She’s tunnel-visioned and stuck in a rut, blindingly following the expectations her society and herself have placed upon her. And that’s the real problem. She’s not thinking about WHY she’s doing what she’s doing. She’s just doing because that’s what you do, failing to realize the grand opportunity that’s being offered if she just made an exception this once. She’s fallen into the trap.

And that’s a problem we’re all guilty of as well.

I know I’ve been. My commentary about #BlackLivesMatter might be a good example. So eager I was to get my thoughts out there that I didn’t bother to reference my sources, my data, or any of the why I believe these things. Impulse can be a dangerous thing in a dark word. We see so many problems and we want to help. And sometimes we rush to help, but we do it without thinking of the why.

Why do I believe what I do? Why do I believe, as I said a minute or so ago, “in the dignity of all people, especially those our society has deemed of lesser value?” Well, I learned that here, in Church, in pages of the Scriptures. I learned that by sitting down and hearing the words of Jesus. Why do I want to feed the hungry? Because Jesus told me through his words and stories. And where did I learn those? I learned them here. Why do I want to help the poor? Because Jesus told me through his words and stories. And where did I learn those? I learned them here.

Why do we Christians do anything? Well, it should be because Jesus said or did something about it and we learned it here. In this Church or one like it. We were Mary at one point. We sat at Jesus’ feet and heard what he had to say. We listened to his teachings. We heard his parables. We were taught the stories of his miracles. And we came away from that with understanding of who Jesus is and what he was about. We saw his love and his compassion and his mercy in those stories. And we took that love with us out into the world to do the work that he’s called us to do.

You can’t be a good Martha without being a good Mary first. We can’t do what Jesus has called us to do without understanding why it matters. And we can’t learn why it matters unless we are here (in the church) and here (in the Scriptures.) We can’t do without knowing why it is that we’re doing what we’re doing.

The word “evangelism” comes to us from the Greek word evangelion. Evangelion means, quite literally, to “tell good news.”

• “It’s a boy” is evangelion.
• “You’ve won the lottery” is evangelion.
• “Jesus loves you” is evangelion.

But if we’re going to go out and tell that good news, we’d darn well better know what that good news is. We need to remember what Jesus said. What he did. And what does that mean for us when he says “go and do likewise,” as he did last week. Therein lies the why. Why do we do what we do? Because Jesus said so. And where did we learn that? We learned it here. Amen.

Summer Worship at St. John for July

Preached at St. John Lutheran Church on July 10, 2016
Scripture reading: John 1:1-5, 20:1-18

Pastor's Note: As last month, this sermon/worship liturgy comes out of Cross The Sky Ministry's Youth Sunday materials.

This Little Light... Skit

Three Christians stand in a line with lit candles.
The Accuser approaches

Accuser: How can you stand there and pray to God after all the things you’ve done? You’re a failure. You’re sick and twisted. Think of the skeletons in your closet. Think of all the times you’ve lied. Hated others. Cheated people. Lusted after what you could not have. Think on all that and tell me again that you believe!

First Christian puts out their light.

Accuser: How can you stand there and pray to God after all the things you’ve seen? 9/11. Orlando. Floods in West Virginia. Wildfires in California. Police shooting black people. People shooting police. Terrorism across the world. War. Violence. Disease. People all over dying for stupid reasons. And yet what does God do about it? Nothing. Think on all that and tell me again that you believe!

Second Christian puts out their light.

Third Christian begins singing “This Little Light of Mine”

Accuser: No, wait, stop that...Don’t do that.

Third Christian encourages congregation to join in.

Accuser: You can’t...no...(He’s drowned out and cowers.)

As song continues, the third Christian relights the second one’s candle and they join in the song.

As song continues, the second Christian relights the first one’s candle and they join in the song.

Accuser: No....arrrgh! (He runs away.)

Song concludes.

-----

Darkness. Despair. Hopelessness. Fear. Anxiety. Sorrow. These are the most potent weapons of the enemy. All designed to make us think one of three things: God does not exist, God has no power to change things, or God does not care.

As the Accuser makes his claims in our skit, you can almost see how this works. He throws our sins and our failures at us and what happens? We become convinced that we are unlovable, that our sins are unforgivable. Self-loathing sets in. Even God, if he’s out there, cannot redeem us and even if he can, why would he? Despair poisons our minds and our hearts.

That self-loathing can spread. How often do we begin to play this little game with ourselves and our neighbors; the game where we try to make everyone look worse than us? I may be a sinner, but at least I’m not one of THOSE people over there. I may have made my mistakes, but at least I’m not like THAT guy. We think that if we highlight other people’s failures and vices, God will somehow ignore our own. Do you realize what’s happened when we do that? Who is the Accuser now? Doing Satan’s work for him, yeah, that’s a winning strategy.

But that’s not Evil’s only strategy. He takes things from the personal to the general. Let’s talk about the world and how screwed up it is. A place where children can and are mowed down by madmen with assault weapons. Where wedding celebrations are bombed by drones and suicidal maniacs. Where the earth itself rains death and destruction down on us with earthquakes and fires and floods. Where tiny microbes can fell even the mightiest of us. Where is God in the midst of that?

I don’t know. None of us do and that unanswered question haunts each of us, adding more fuel to the devil’s fire.

It is not easy to be a believer. Easier by far to believe the world is chaos, that evil holds sway, but that is not who we are. To be Christian requires a certain fortitude, for faith calls us to both defiance and patience in the face of the evils of this world. Because what we do believe is even though things are pretty screwed up now, they won’t always be that way. There will come a day when all will be put right. Evil does not have the last word.

The Scriptures testify to this truth. John’s Gospel tells us that the darkness cannot overcome the light. And we see that most fully in the greatest story of our faith, that Easter morning when the stone rolled away. Here is all the answers to Satan’s accusations.

Think God doesn’t care about you? Look to how he treats Mary, a sinner like us, calling her by name with love and affection in his voice.

Think God has no power? Look, the stone is rolled back. He is alive who once was dead. If he can do that, what can’t he do?

Yes, the world is a mess and so too are we. But it will not always be so. God’s work is not done. He’s not finished with us yet. Creation is ongoing. It hasn’t stopped. You and I, we are a long way from what God intends, but he’s still molding and crafting us, forgiving our faults and growing our faith. That takes time. God’s plan was never going to happen overnight. It’s been going on for the world since the beginning of human history; why would it be any different for us?

And as that plan works itself out, the world continues to grown in the midst of its own chaos. We are called to stand firm in the midst of it all. Yes, tragedy and atrocity continue, but we are promised a new heaven and a new earth through Christ’s death and resurrection. They’re not here yet, but they’re coming. In the meantime, we stand firm against a crazy world and say with boldness, “I still believe.”

That is our light, a light that others can and will see. When we stand stalwart in the face of the world’s insanity and our own failings, others will take notice. You cannot miss a candle in the darkness. Be that candle. Trust that despite the way things are with yourself and the world that they will not always be so. God is still at work. Trust in that and your faith will be a guide to others. Be the light. Amen.

Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on July 10, 2016
Scripture text: Luke 10:25-37

“And who is my neighbor?”

One of the most famous stories from the Bible begins with a question. But it’s a dishonest question. The man questioning Jesus is not asking the question he really wants to know the answer to. Luke, who is recording this exchange, makes that abundantly clear by giving the man a motive: “wanting to justify himself.” That speaks volumes as to what is really going on here.

No, the question he should be asking; That he really wants to ask is “who is not my neighbor?”

Because that’s really what we all want to know. Who can we exclude. Who doesn’t count. Who stands outside the bounds. Who are the exceptions to the rule. That’s what we really want to know.

It may be the oldest question in human history. Scott Gustafson, in his book Behind Good and Evil, traces the origins and purposes of human morality. He says that the fundamental purpose of moral codes is to determine who is worthy of life and who is not. In ancient societies, this manifested as who got fed and who did not. Today, it might be who has freedom and who does not. Who has rights and who does not. But in the end, it all boils down to the same thing: who is truly human and worthy of life and who is not and worthy only of death.

“Who is not my neighbor?” Who can I discount? Who can I dismiss? Who can I ignore? Who can I hate? And why and how? For what reasons? Who counts and who doesn’t? That’s what the man really wants to know and so do we.

How else can we justify looking the other way when rogue police officers shoot a pinned and secured black man to death? How else can we claim that the murder of police officers is somehow a legitimate protest for that?

How else can we tell young women who’ve been raped that it was their fault they were assaulted? How else can we be outraged at the perfidy of those on one side of the political aisle and not at our own?

We want to claim morality is absolute and yet we always make exceptions for those who “not our neighbors.” Those we believe are deserving of the worst cruelties and punishments our world can dish out. Black people, cops, immigrants, Jews, Muslims, atheists, young women who won’t sleep with us (or are prettier than we are), gays, trans people, Democrats, Republicans, and so forth. All those we believe should die for crimes real and imagined.

That sounds extreme, but let’s be honest. We think the world would be better off without them, without “those people,” however we might define that phrase that I use so often. In the darkest part of our hearts, that’s what we want to believe. We want them gone.

Jesus pulls no punches about that in the story he tells. We think we know it well, but the power of the Good Samaritan runs deeper than we realize.

A man travels the wilderness road between Jerusalem and Jericho. This is a dangerous road, eighteen miles long and with a drop in elevation of over 3000 feet. Treacherous mountainous terrain, perfect for bandits and highwaymen, which is precisely what happens to the man. He is attacked and left for dead.

You can already hear the excuses starting in the minds of those hearing this story. Who would be stupid enough to travel that road alone? He was asking for it. Perhaps those questions were asked in the minds of those who came upon him, the priest and Levite, who passed by on the other side. He got what he deserved. Who am I to change that?

Jesus doesn’t fill in the details in regards to that pair’s motives. Were they judgmental, as I’ve speculated? Were they afraid the bandits would strike them (After all, they’re dumb enough to travel the road alone as well.)  Was it their own strict morality? Can’t touch a dead body. Can’t touch blood or they’d become unclean because of some antiquated rules and religious dogma. Were they worried about being late to their destination? In most ways, it doesn’t matter. The wounded man had ceased to be human to them, unworthy of help. All their other reasons were more important than his life.

He was not their neighbor, so they passed on to let him die.

Jesus then brings in the twist ending with that disgusting Samaritan, who does what the “good people” do not do: preserve the man’s life, show him dignity and compassion. That’s the twist of the knife, shaming his audience into recognizing their own cruelty. You wouldn’t help him, but one of “those people” would.

Jesus warns us elsewhere in the Gospels to “Judge not, lest we be judged” in turn. That’s precisely the dynamic at play here. The man on the road has been judged worthy of death by all, yet he is rescued by yet another we would have judged just as harshly. Jesus turns our judgment against us. It is we, the listeners who so often bask in our self-righteousness and self-superiority, who are being judged by this story. We who discover that in the moral code of the universe that we are now worthy of death for our cruel indifference to our neighbors.

And yet that’s not what we receive. Our Samaritan comes and binds up our self-inflicted wounds. He takes us to the inn and provides for us. He gives all that he has on a cross for our sake and rises again on the third day to give us life.

This is the new morality, the morality of Jesus Christ. One that gives life, not death. One that judges all worthy because he is worthy. One that judges all good because he is good. A morality that we are called to embrace as his disciples.

We are founding wanting and yet we are loved. We are unworthy and yet we are saved. This is how Jesus operates. This is the way it works. This is the new world, the kingdom of God. We are “those people” and they are us. We’re all in the same boat whether we’ve realized it or not. God has and has a provided a way to life for us all. Time to live that way, with ourselves and with our neighbors. Amen.

Thoughts on Dallas and Police Brutality

Pastor’s note: Trigger warning. I’m going to get political again. Be forewarned.

A couple of years ago, I went to visit NRA headquarters (Yes, I know. Pilgrim in an unholy land and all that.) I went because, as I’ve said before, I am a shooting hobbyist and the NRA has a pretty sick shooting range on site. My brother-in-law and I wanted to check it out. While we were waiting for the range to open up, we stopped in to see the Firearms Museum also on site. In addition to shooting, I also like history, so that was a double bonus for me that day.

But what struck me most about my visit was not anything at the range or in the museum. It was the security guard: a tall well-built African-American man carrying (not surprisingly) a handgun on his belt. I remember thinking, “Wow. You’re like the thing the NRA fears most: a black man with a gun.”

In the course of the past 48 hours, there have been two high profile shootings of African-American men by police, one in Baton Rouge, LA and the other in St. Paul, MN. The men’s names were Alton Stirling and Philando Castile. Both men were LEGALLY carrying firearms. Neither man drew nor threatened the police with said weapons. Both men were shot and killed nonetheless. And the NRA’s response to the brutal murder of two men legally exercising their right to bear arms? Crickets.

Not surprising. My joking thought about the security guard holds true. Nothing is scarier than a black man with a gun. Actually, scratch that. Nothing is scarier for many white folks than a black man period.

It’s all about race. We can pretend otherwise, but recent events have put proof to this. This is why #BlackLivesMatter exists. Time and again, we’ve seen this pattern. A black man (or teen in many cases) is stopped for a suspected crime. He either cooperates (Philando Castile), flees (Michael Brown, Walter Scott), or resists (Eric Garner, Alton Stirling). Regardless, he is immediately regarded as a threat and shot (pretty much all of them) and, even if he is arrested, it’s even money if he makes it to the station alive (Freddie Grey).

This is barbaric. And yet, too often, white America turns a blind eye to this abuse of power. Why? Because nothing is scarier than a black man. We excuse this because of our own fears and prejudices.

But let us be blunt. We are supposed to be a society of laws. And those laws say two things, right there in the Bill of Rights of our Constitution (The Fifth, Sixth, and Eighth Amendments to be specific). One, that every criminal suspect has the right to due process. They are to be arrested, tried by a jury of their peers, and only punished if they are found guilty of the crime. Innocence is assumed until guilt is proven beyond a reasonable doubt. This is how it is supposed to work, regardless of race or any other factor. All are equal before the law.

Two, the punishment will fit the crime. Cruel and unusual punishments are forbidden. Extreme and draconian punishments are forbidden. We are not supposed to be killed for minor infractions of the law. Capital punishment is reserved only for the most heinous of crimes: murder, treason, and the like.

Tell me how these men did not have their fundamental rights violated? Tell me how they received due process of the law? Tell me how their punishment (death) fit their supposed crimes?

We can’t, because these men DID have their fundamental rights violated. And time and again this happens and we ignore it because we’re afraid. Time and again, we excuse the murder of black men, of innocent people, because we lack the courage to stand up to our own prejudicial fears. THIS IS WRONG. THIS IS EVIL. And I will call it what it is.

Last night, as a peaceful protest over the murders of Stirling and Castile broke out in Dallas, one vigilante took it upon himself to open fire on police. Eleven cops were hit, five of whom have died as of this writing. Again, we are supposed to be a society of laws. We have fundamental rights guaranteed in our Constitution, including trial by jury and appropriate punishment.

Tell me how these police officers did not have their fundamental rights violated? Tell me how they received due process of the law? Tell me how their punishment (death) fit their supposed crimes?

Again, we can’t. These officers had nothing to do with the murders of Stirling and Castile and even if they had, we have a process of law to answer that. Vigilante murder of police is no better than the murder of innocent black men. Again, THIS IS WRONG. THIS IS EVIL. And I will call it what it is.

One of the common complaints of our modern society is how morality has become relative. It’s okay if I do it, but not if you do. You see this time and again where we excuse “our side” for their sins, yet excoriate others for theirs. No, this is not how it works. Evil is evil. Good is good.

Therefore, people of good conscience can and should see both these acts of senseless violence as wrong. There is no contradiction in being opposed to police brutality and yet wanting our law enforcement officers to do their duty in safety. I do not want cops to die. Nor do I wish to see innocent citizens of our country to be brutalized because of their race. There is no either/or in this. It is a both/and.

As Christians, we are called to resist this moral relativism that so plagues our society. But more importantly, we must resist it within ourselves. It is so easy to become tribal in these days, to see our world as “us-vs-them.” But we cannot fall prey to such thinking, for it gives sanction to evil within our midst, on OUR side. We cannot make excuses for our own side, for our own people, while condemning the evils of others. Jesus had some choice words about that.

“Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, “Let me take the speck out of your eye”, while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite!” – Matthew 7:3-5a

Jesus is not mincing words here. Beware your own sins as much, if not more so, as those of others. Do not condemn #BlackLivesMatter for the murder of those Dallas Police Officers without acknowledging how often we’ve ignored the dying pleas of innocent black men at the hands of police. Do not damn rogue police officers without recognizing the unlawful deaths of cops at the hands of criminals. Both are wrong. Both are evil.

And I will call it what it is.

Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on July 3, 2016
Scripture reading: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Facing off. From the Tumblr of jtangc

In addition to all my other nerdy hobbies, I’ve had a long and fruitful love of Japanese animation (aka “anime.”) Like all such fans, I have my favorite series, and that for me is the Macross science-fiction franchise. Starting way back in the early 1980s with the original Macross (better known to most Americans as “Robotech”) and continuing up to its current series, Macross Delta, now being televised in Japan on Sunday evenings.

The central conceit of Macross (in all its incarnations) is that “music will save the world.” There are usually three protagonists in each series and at least one of them is always a singer, a musician. In Macross Delta, that singer heroine is Freya Wion, a cute redheaded teenage girl.

I haven’t been able to see a lot of Delta, since it is truly brand new, but what I have seen has shown me that Freya is one of the most courageous characters I’ve ever seen in any TV or movie. She knows her music has the power to save people (in Delta, it can cure a dangerous alien disease that drives people into berserker rages.) and she will do everything in her power to save them, trusting completely in her companions to keep her safe.

In one scene, she stands out in the open in a battlefield and sings to a berserk starfighter pilot, who then proceeds to try to kill her with his starfighter. But she’s protected by her friend who places his own fighter in the path of the berserker’s shots.

Same scene as the opening illustration.

In another, she leaps off the deck of a starship, singing all the way, to support her allies in a starfighter dogfight. Again, she is caught by one of her allies before she plummets to her death.

In both cases, she never hesitates, completely confident that her friends and allies will keep her safe from all harm.

When I read our Gospel lesson for today, with Jesus sending out the 72 into the mission field, I wonder if that wasn’t the sort of spirit he was looking for in these missionaries. Jesus doesn’t pull any punches about how dangerous this could be. “See, I am sending you out as sheep among wolves.” he says openly. This is tough work. This is dangerous work.

The context of this sending is Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, in other words, his journey to the cross. He has no delusions about where things are going for his little spiritual movement. Things are going to get ugly and soon. People are going to die, starting with him, but sadly not ending with him. He needs people of singular courage who are going to go forth anyway, knowing they can do their part to save the world and completely confident in God’s grace to save them from all harm.

And that is what he ends up with. Peter, Paul, James, John, Andrew, Thomas, Mary Magdalene, and countless others throughout the generations who spread the good news of Jesus to the far corners of the world. Rarely was that message welcome and rarely did these evangelists and apostles come out of their experiences with their lives intact. The wolves won more often than not. But that didn’t stop Christianity from becoming the largest religion on this planet.

It’s a strange thing for us in the Church in this 21st century. We know where we are, but in so many ways, we’ve forgotten how we got here. The world is still full of wolves, hostile to the message we bear, and yet most of us are utterly surprised by that. We somehow think the world is supposed to be accommodating to the message of Christ. It isn’t and never has been. It has always been hostile to the truth we bear and always will be.

And sometimes the place where the wolves congregate the most is inside the Church itself. In our supposed “Christian nation,” the idea of welcoming the stranger has become anathema. We don’t want refugees. We don’t want immigrants. We don’t want Muslims. We don’t want “those people.” (There’s that phrase yet again.) In our supposed “Christian nation,” we don’t want to feed the poor or heal the sick. It costs too much and they don’t deserve our help. (There’s that word too.)

You want to draw out the wolves? Start talking about the dignity of every human being, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, economic status, political affiliation, or any other dividing line that we humans have created. Think about people who have already done that in history. Malcolm X and MLK. Bang! Susan B. Anthony. Jailed! Gandhi. Bang! Bishop Oscar Romero. Bang!

I could keep going. The Christians beheaded by ISIS. The Christian martyrs rotting in jails across the world for their belief. These atrocities happened because, whether the victims were people of our faith or not, they spoke the truth of Jesus Christ: that all human beings are precious to God and worthy of our respect and dignity.

To say that takes courage. To live that takes courage. To stand up for the marginalized in this and every society takes courage. The wolves are real and they are ravenous.

But they also cannot truly harm us.

Like Freya in Macross, we can be confident that our ally has our back. We can be confident that our protector will be there for us regardless of where life takes us. We can trust that no matter how fierce the wolves that gather around us, they cannot stand before our Savior: Jesus Christ.

“Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Jesus’ last words in the Gospel of Matthew, uttered immediately after he charged us with the Great Commission to go forth and spread his truth, are there to remind us of his presence and protection in our lives. So the wolves have gathered. So what? “If God is for us, who can be against us?” and “no weapon formed against us shall prosper.” God wins and so do we.

History bears that out. Yeah, the martyrs suffered and in some cases died for what they believed. But they still won. The truth they proclaimed continued to spread. The word they bore has continued to work on the world. The wolves may have won the battle, but they are losing the war. God is still at work. His Gospel continues to spread to receptive hearts, in spite of all the efforts of evil and misguided people to stop it.

No matter what the world throws at the truth of Christ, it cannot stop it. We have a message that can change lives and save this world. What have we to fear in sharing it and spreading it? The world can gnash its teeth all it wants. The war is already won. Christ is the victor. And so are we. Amen.