A Sermon from Rev. Grant F.C. Gillard First Presbyterian Church Jackson May 20, 2001 Happiness is a Choice Part 4 "Desire Right Things" Psalm 107:1-9, John 6:25-35 Matthew 5:6 "Focused mind power is one of the strongest forces on earth." --- Mark Victor Hansen "What we truly and earnestly aspire to be, that, in some sense, we are. The mere aspiration, by changing the frame of the mind, for the moment realizes itself." --- Anna Jameson, Irish Novelist Introduction: As we've worked our way through three beatitudes, there is a sense of doing something, making a choice that determines how we view life and deal with life's complexities and complications. Jesus promises to those who live a certain way, to those who make specific decisions about their lifestyle, they will find a sense of God's blessing, a state we might equate with "happiness." In that respect, our happiness becomes a choice, and if you want to live a happy life, choose to live by Jesus' standards. The first beatitude was to embrace our weaknesses. Through this choice, we come to know that we are poor and weak, that God is our wealth and strength. It is somewhat ironic how God's promise of a reward is oppositional to what our culture and our society promise. Jesus says those who are poor in this world are really rich in the wealth of the Kingdom of God. The second beatitude was to grieve our losses, particularly mourning our sinfulness and unfulfilled expectations of who we need to be as God's children. The promised reward was comfort, which is strength. When we grieve, we find our strength. Yet our world tells us that to grieve is a sign of weakness. And yet, paradoxically, grieving brings about healing and wholeness. The third beatitude was to back off, slow down and let God. It was our way of being meek, that is, not arrogantly asserting our way, but rather allowing God to do his divine work through us. What was promised was our inheritance, a shared blessing of what we are working toward anyway. Meekness allows God to give to us according to his sovereign provision and according to his perfect timetable. And yet our world tells us that only the strong survive, to go for the gusto, to work hard, play hard and when the going gets tough the tough get going. God, however, promises that we are heirs, that we will receive what is promised if we trust God in our meekness. We come to this fourth beatitude. Jesus tells us that there is a special blessing to those who desire right things, those who focus their minds on right motivations, to hunger and thirst for God's righteousness that we would know what it means to be satisfied, content and fulfilled. Those three characteristics are what I call the state of blessing, of happiness: To be satisfied, content, and fulfilled. And yet, it is our choice to seek righteousness, or to work for the things we feel we really need and want. The promise of Matthew 6:33 is that when we seek God's righteousness first, all the things we seek in terms of our material comfort and survival will come to us. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is telling us not just to seek God's righteousness, but to hunger and thirst for it, to focus our minds and hearts on making it so. He also promises that those who do will be blessed with a state of fulfillment. Sermon In the course of my education, I've had several opportunities to take business classes and accounting courses. One of the most interesting aspects of these classes was an accounting course in which we looked at the ways various individual enterprises linked themselves together in the larger total picture of the business. Each enterprise had its own budget, and the idea was to determine how much of each enterprise the larger business could support. These budgets also helped determine if an input could be bought or if the business should make or create it. The context for my applications was agriculture. Enterprise budgets informed the farmer of how much of each crop to grow, and within the context of each crop, how many inputs were needed for the most profitable and economical return. We studied the law of diminishing returns which told us that as you add inputs (fertilizer) your output (yield in bushels) increases. However, with each additional unit of input, your output does not increase accordingly. Thus, the maximum output per acre is not always the optimal (profitable) level. When you put enterprise budgets together for a farming business, the situation asks if it is cheaper to raise corn or buy it from someone else. Should a farmer raise his own hay, or is it more profitable to plow up the hay field, plant soybeans, sell the soybeans and buy the hay? If you have sows that give birth to baby pigs, should you sell those pigs when they are weaned (called "feeder" pigs), or should you feed them and allow them to grow out to a "butcher" weight? If you decide to "feed them out," should you buy the corn they need to eat or should you raise it yourself? Every enterprise has a thousand options, and every option must be weighed. Supposedly, these business decisions boil down to dollars and cents. But sometimes you have options that don't make financial sense, but it's just something you want to do. One of my college classmate's father raised Duroc hogs. This short bodied, red breed of pig is not the most maternal of sows, not the best converter of corn to meat, not the leanest of animals. The hog industry prefers white (mostly Landrace hybrids) pigs. But this hog farmer has an affinity for Durocs. Some of my cousins have raised specialized calves for show, rather than slaughter. These "club calves" are especially bred for characteristics of the show ring rather than economical daily gains. Their owners pamper and groom these cattle to accentuate their most positive characteristics and hide their defaults. Their coats were shampooed and blown dry. Shoe polish is applied to their hooves. Can you imagine a commercial cattleman doing this for his calves? For the majority of the contestants, there is no financial gain to be made from showing these calves, but people like doing it for the honor and prestige of competition, their passion for cattle, and of course, the enjoyment and fellowship of like-minded people. It's what they want to do, and they like doing it. They cultivate a great interest in doing it. I also have a relative who just bought one of the large, gas-consuming, four-wheel drive sport vehicles. It gets around twelve miles to the gallon of gas. The last time I was home, he conceded, that with gasoline prices so high (and they've gone higher since then), it was probably a poor time to buy this vehicle. However, he added, that he had always wanted to own this car, and even if it cost him more for gasoline, and a lot more for insurance, he was willing to put up with the inconvenience because he really wanted to own this particular car. This doesn't make financial sense, but it's something he wanted to do, something he desired even at the expense of higher gasoline prices. What motivates a person to do something like this in the wake of a negative financial outcome? It's called the hunger factor. Sometimes you just want to do something even if it doesn't make sense from a financial standpoint, even if everyone around you gives contrary advice. There was a woman who took a flask of very expensive perfume. She broke the flask and poured the ointment over the feet of Jesus. Judas looks over and says, "You know, Lord, we could have taken that perfume and sold it and given the money to the poor." Jesus responds by saying, "What she did was something she deeply desired to do out of her great love and respect for me." In essence, he's identifying her hunger factor. Judas, like all good money managers, looks only to the financial aspect. He fails to see what she did as an act of worship. He can only count the money, even though in his heart, he cares nothing for the poor. I've often admired Olympic athletes who take several years of their lives, in some cases even their entire lives, to dedicate themselves for training and preparing for the Olympic competition. They are willing to forsake careers and in some cases family, for the purpose of becoming the best in their field. They have a hunger for the gold metal. In some cases, you hear of people who drop out of training process. They are described negatively as, "not hungry enough" to compete. You have to taste victory. The hunger factor separates winners from those who wish they were, and wishing doesn't make you a winner. Winning on the Olympic level of competition requires an intense level of hunger. So what do you hunger for? What are you willing to lay on the line to attain? For what are you willing to set aside all means of convention to attain? One of greatest tragedies in life is when we stop hungering and merely accept life as it is, fearing it won't, or can't, improve. Is there something that you are passionate about? What motivates you to excel in certain situations? When I was in the sixth grade at Oakwood Elementary learning to play the trumpet, we had to practice every day, and have our practice record signed by our parents. There was a girl in the fifth grade, Mary Walsh, who played the flute, and practiced ten hours every week. She was pretty good for a fifth grade flutist. But the rest of us just got sick and tired of her ten hour practice record. So one week, I decided that I would beat her. I really concentrated and I practiced my trumpet eleven hours that week. My passion? Beat Mary Walsh's practice record. Was becoming a better trumpet player anywhere in the eleven hours? Not one bit. When I presented Mary with my signed practice record, her reaction was simply, "So?" I longed to beat her record and she didn't care. It was a hollow victory. My motives for beating her meant nothing. Much of what we hunger for in life is hollow, puffed up by slick advertising, grass that appears greener on the other side of the fence, "Joneses" that need keeping up with, or simply the irrational fear that we're falling behind and that we need to have the biggest, fastest, latest gadget with all the bells and whistles. Perhaps what we want most in life changes as we move through the levels of maturity in our lives. I know there was a time in my life when I couldn't wait to graduate from high school. I hungered to get out and move on to college. I then went on to college, but then I couldn't wait until I got out of school. Then I couldn't wait to get out on my own. I ended up in seminary and I couldn't wait until I got out and into the ministry (failing to recognize that "ministry" always happens wherever we are at). As an associate pastor, I couldn't wait until I had my own church. Likewise, maybe you couldn't wait until you got married, or you couldn't wait until you had children, or you couldn't wait until the children were grown and out of the house, or wait until you got a better job, or wait until you retired. The experts call this "can't wait" syndrome, as "destination disease." We are always looking for the next level, the next stage. We are always hungering for something else in life rather than enjoying what we got now. Destination disease is always looking ahead, and once you get to where you felt you couldn't wait to get to, you can't wait to get to the next spot in life. Destination disease is symptomatic of hungering for the wrong things, the things we mistakenly thought would bring us happiness, but instead only fueled that ceaseless passion to move on to the next level in life. Destination disease is characterized by a restlessness. So again, I ask, what are you hungering for? What do you want most out of your life right now? Is there something you really desire and you're willing to do anything for it? What do you want most in life? Are you hungry enough to do whatever it takes to attain it? Is there something you feel very passionate about? There was an incident with one of the great concert pianists of our day. After finishing up his concert and making his way backstage, one of his fans had found her way backstage to greet him. She effused enthusiastic congratulations and said, "That concert was so moving, why I'd give half my life to play like you." He coldly responded, "Ma'am, I gave my whole life to play like that." That's the hunger factor. What are you hungering for that you'd give your whole life to do? Do you have a life-long dream? Most of us are just a little embarrassed to admit what we hunger for, because every time we share what our dream is, there is someone right there to tell us just how improbable or impossible that dream is. Deep in our hearts, we all have something significant we long for, even if we know it will only bring envious criticism from others. But let's turn this question around. Are you sure that the things you hunger for will satisfy your appetite? If you could achieve your dreams, would you be satisfied? Let me give you this warning: much of what we hunger for is very temporary. As we suffer from destination disease, we arrive at our desired destination, only to recognize that the expectations are less than what was originally perceived. Somehow our hopes have not materialized. They say that eating Chinese food fills you up, but an hour later you're hungry again. In the 55th chapter of Isaiah, Isaiah writes, "Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Hearken diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in fatness." (Isaiah 55:2) John's gospel states the same thing. Jesus tells his listeners, "Do not labor for food that perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life." (John 6:27) Jesus echoes the same sentiment when he says, "Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be satisfied." He might have said, "Those who hunger and thirst for their own interests or for material gain will only be filled temporarily and they'll never be satisfied." The idea of "righteousness" carries a lot of baggage. It sounds like we need some kind of religious qualification or attain a level of moral perfection. If this were the case, we're all at a loss. Righteousness is a relational term with legal implications. It has a legal definition, but also carries relational dimensions. 1 Peter 3:18 tells us that Christ for our sins once and for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring us to God. It doesn't mean we're better people. It means Christ imputes a status to us that allows God to love us. It doesn't mean we're perfect people, but it means that our sin is something we take seriously. Through God's grace, we're allowing God to work through us and God's purposes to become manifest through our lives. Another way to think about this sense of righteousness is what I call, "right relationships." Right relationships mean we are right with God. We confess our sin, repent, and accept God's pardon. It's doesn't mean we won't sin again, but it implies God's grace working through us so we don't want to sin. Life is often a pendulum of our sinfulness and God's graciousness, our confession and repentance and God's pardon. Right relationships extend to our neighbors. Jesus said we are to love God, but also love our neighbors as much as we love ourselves. Righteousness means we stand with the oppressed, stand against injustice, have compassion for those in need. It means living for God's ideals for God's people. It means doing God's will and work, fulfilling his plan and purposes of redemption. What Jesus is saying is that when you work for God's ideals, you have a sense of rightness that fills you and fulfills you. You have peace, contentment and satisfaction. And yet most of us spend most of our time trying to collect and hoard the most things. And we're unhappy. Jesus offers us a choice to live for his kingdom, to choose his priorities, to value his values. I have found an answer to my case of destination disease in seeking God's will. The late Rev. Frank Harrington spoke to a group of pastors in Hastings, Nebraska. I was fortunate to be part of that group. As the pastor of the largest Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), he shared how most pastors want to be like him. If they can't be like him, most pastors will move around in the futile and elusive search for the ideal church, (which he said, if it did exist, likely wouldn't choose us to be its pastor!). Harrington's advice was to make our present church the best church to the best of our abilities. It is, as he said, the example of that old expression to "bloom where you are planted." This advice fits pastors as well as church members, and holds application for your work place and neighborhood as well. As many of my colleagues have moved around, I find myself with a sense of envy. It's exciting to move to a new congregation. Then I think about what a hassle it is to move (and clean out my garage). I think of trying to move into a new congregation and discovering all the skeletons in their respective closets and learning which sacred cows I can't touch. I'm open to God's will, and that openness has removed any anxiety about feeling like I have to move because my friends and colleagues are moving. I'm content, and I hope you're content with me. My contentment comes from my desire to serve God while I'm here. One of my colleagues moved to a larger church in another state. We got together about a year after he moved, and when I asked him how things were in the new church, he wearily conceded that in a small church you have small headaches. In a larger church you have larger headaches, he said. I don't know all his motivations for moving, but one of them was to have a bigger church. And we all have longings like this, sometimes justified by noble intentions. We want newer cars, bigger homes, better salaries, fancier computers, nicer clothesand the list goes on and on. And yet these things won't bring us happiness, only living for God's purposes and living according to God's ideals. This is what Jesus means when he said we are to hunger and thirst for righteousness. When we choose to live for God's ideals, we have a sense of satisfaction. This satisfaction is being filled and it leads to our feelings of happiness. |
