Michael, Martin and Flip

Romans 7:15-25a (CEB)

I don’t know what I’m doing, because I don’t do what I want to do. Instead, I do the thing that I hate. But if I’m doing the thing that I don’t want to do, I’m agreeing that the Law is right. But now I’m not the one doing it anymore. Instead, it’s sin that lives in me. I know that good doesn’t live in me—that is, in my body. The desire to do good is inside of me, but I can’t do it. I don’t do the good that I want to do, but I do the evil that I don’t want to do. But if I do the very thing that I don’t want to do, then I’m not the one doing it anymore. Instead, it is sin that lives in me that is doing it.

So I find that, as a rule, when I want to do what is good, evil is right there with me. I gladly agree with the Law on the inside, but I see a different law at work in my body. It wages a war against the law of my mind and takes me prisoner with the law of sin that is in my body. I’m a miserable human being. Who will deliver me from this dead corpse? Thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

As we conclude our series on the cloud of witnesses that surround us, I hope that over these last two months that you have thought about your pantheon that surrounds and encourages you.

As many of you are aware, I was a history major in college --- my area of study was 18th Century English history, and I wrote my senior theses on John Wesley and his effects on the English working class movement.

While I would agree that history is not a lucrative field to study, I appreciate that my education taught me how to think critically and the experiences I had also forced me to deal with some of my hidden prejudices.

While the history department was huge, I became a member of Phi Alpha Theta, the national honor society for history students and professors.  I became part of a small group of students and faculty which gave me the opportunity to get to know them in a unique way.

My history advisor was Michael. 

Michael was one of the most unique professors I have ever met.

He was this big, burly black man --- who if he wished, could intimidate the heck out of anyone.

Michael loved to throw huge parties, and I often managed to get an invite.

One night at his apartment, we somehow got into a discussion about a class that he believed I needed to take.

It wasn't in my area of study --- but he said it would be good for me and a friend of his is teaching it.

The class he wanted me to take was on the history of the black experience in the United States.

About a week later, I ran into Michael in his office and he asked me if I signed up for the class.

          He immediately started laughing at me as I was trying to stammer an excuse.

                   He said: "What are you afraid of?"

                             And then he added these words --- "Don't worry it will be 50/50"

                                      by that he meant 50% black and 50% white

On a cold January evening, I walked to DuSable hall for the first class. 

It was one of those classes that meet for 2 1/2 hours once a week. 

It started at 7 and would not be done until 9:30pm.

          I have to admit I was a little nervous

Here I was, this skinny little white kid, walking into this class on a dark and dreary evening.

As I walked into the class I began to look around.  It was in a larger lecture hall, and my recollection is that there were close to 100 students in the room.

          And all I saw were black faces

                   faces that made me feel like I was intruding

There was one other white student in the class

The other student also had been talked into the class by Michael, but he had a very different story than I.

I grew up in Glenview Illinois, an affluent northern suburb of Chicago

          The only people of color were stationed at the naval airbase

                   My high school was 99% white

This other student, grew up in Florida, in a predominately black neighborhood --- even though he was white --- he was seen as an ally of the black community

          I was seen with suspicion.

I would try to keep my mouth shut in discussions --- fortunately it was a lecture class and not a small discussion group

But whenever there was a discussion --- I became the object of frustration and rage that many of my fellow classmates felt.

          I remember having people literally get into my face and yell at me.

                    I have never tried to become smaller in my life

                             --- I was frightened at times

I never was accepted --- but I learned a great deal about how the black community felt in the late 70's and early 80's.

When I headed south to attend Duke it was a helpful lesson

And as I think about the cloud of witnesses that surround me --- Michael always comes to mind.

          He gave me a gift that I can never repay

He left NIU a few years after I graduated and we lost touch --- but I have never stopped being thankful for Michael putting me into a situation in which I was forced to wrestle with my prejudices.

And while I have had to move beyond some of the lessons that he helped teach me --- Michael stressed that one needs to learn to be colorblind (which was a common goal back then) --- he opened my eyes to a whole new world.

Martin Luther King, Jr. needs no introduction to many of you. 

It was just a few years ago, on a cold and snowy January Sunday morning when just a handful of you showed up for church.

Right before the first service, Matt and I decided rather than trying to hold our normal worship services we would read selections from Martin's: Letter From A Birmingham Jail.

          It was a powerful service

                   One of the best I have ever been a part of

Many of you are familiar with that letter and his I Have a Dream speech.

While I grew up in lily white Glenview, my home was a place where we discussed the issues of the day.

My father grew up in the south --- my great-grandparents were slave owners.

My father moved north because of the racism in the south, and then had to deal with the racism of the north.

          Martin Luther King was spoken of with kindness in our home

I remember in April of 1968 when Martin was murdered in Memphis.

I think it was even more real because my parents had attempted to go back south in the late 50's and had started a church in Memphis.

It was a time of sadness, loss, and fear.

I read Taylor Branch's Pulitzer Prize winning books about the King years in America, Parting the Waters, is a masterpiece

Just recently I was given a copy of David Garrows’s Bearing the Cross: Martin Luther King, Jr., And The Southern Christian Leadership Conference.

Not an easy book to read, but a powerful reminder of what leadership is all about.

In 1955, during the Montgomery Bus Boycott, 25 year old Martin Luther King, Jr. --- let me repeat that --- 25 year old Martin Luther King, Jr., led a 385 day boycott in Montgomery Alabama.

During the midst of that boycott, Martin faced a crisis of faith --- Garrow writes:

unable to be at peace with himself, King feared he could take it no longer. It was the most important night of his life, the one he always would think back to in future years when the pressures again seemed to be too great.

“It was around midnight,” . . . “You can have some strange experiences at midnight.” The threatening caller had rattled him deeply. “Nigger, we are tired of you and your mess now. And if you aren’t out of this town in three days, we’re going to blow your brains out, and blow up your house.”

I sat there and thought about a beautiful little daughter who had just been born.… She was the darling of my life. I’d come in night after night and see that little gentle smile. And I sat at that table thinking about that little girl and thinking about the fact that she could be taken away from me any minute.

And I started thinking about a dedicated, devoted and loyal wife, who was over there asleep. And she could be taken from me, or I could be taken from her. And I got to the point that I couldn’t take it any longer.  I was weak. Something said to me, you can’t call on Daddy now . . . You can’t even call on Mama now. You’ve got to call on that something in that person that your Daddy used to tell you about, that power that can make a way out of no way.

And I discovered then that religion had to become real to me, and I had to know God for myself. And I bowed down over that cup of coffee. I never will forget it … I prayed a prayer, and I prayed out loud that night. I said, ‘Lord, I’m down here trying to do what’s right. I think I’m right. I think the cause that we represent is right. But Lord, I must confess that I’m weak now. I’m faltering. I’m losing my courage.’

Then it happened:

And it seemed at that moment that I could hear an inner voice saying to me, ‘Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth.  And lo I will be with you, even until the end of the world.’… I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone. No never alone. No never alone. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone.

I get chills as I read that again.

Haven't we all been there?

Ready to give up.

Ready to say, "I can't do this anymore."

          I know I have

No-one has ever threatened my family

          No-one has ever bombed my house

                   But I have felt anger and hatred over decisions I have been led to make

When we adopted our statement of inclusion --- I received emails and letters --- some not very kind

When I confronted the town fathers in Munster, over their decision to pump the water back into the little calumet river --- knowing it would cause flooding in Gary --- I received threats and attacks

And like Martin, I sat, with my hands on my head saying --- "what am I supposed to do Lord?"

And I too, heard the voice of Jesus ---

"stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth.  And lo I will be with you, even until the end of the world.’… I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone."

The greatest complement every given to me came from Rev. Michelle Cobb, then my District Superintendent in the midst of the flooding crisis in Northwest Indiana.

At a District meeting, she called me out --- much to the glee and derision of my friends --- she praised me in a way that I am not worthy of nor was at the time --- she compared me to Martin --- in my standing up for the least, the lost and the last of the region during the recovery from the floods. 

It was a very humbling experience.

But I can't tell you how many times I wanted to quit, I was tired, beat up, exhausted.

My family paid a price for those three years that only they fully know.

But as I look back, I know that it was Michael and Martin that paved the way that I could help lead LARRI (Lakeshore Area Regional Recovery of Indiana) during that period and make a huge difference in the lives of so many in Northwest Indiana.

Without them, cheering me on, encouraging me, I would have walked away.

But what about Flip, Steve?

How in the world does Flip Wilson fit into this sermon?

Those of you who remember Flip Wilson know that he had a famous saying: "The devil made me do it."

It was the implication, that I am not responsible for my actions.

It also seems to reflect what Paul was saying to the Romans.

I don’t know what I’m doing, because I don’t do what I want to do. Instead, I do the thing that I hate. . . .The desire to do good is inside of me, but I can’t do it. I don’t do the good that I want to do, but I do the evil that I don’t want to do. But if I do the very thing that I don’t want to do, then I’m not the one doing it anymore. Instead, it is sin that lives in me that is doing it.

Is Paul telling us that it is the Devil that makes us do the evil that we do?

          It sure sounds that way.

I think we can hear this passage two ways.

First, we can say --- yep, there is nothing I can do about it, and just move on, doing what we do. Accepting that sin is a part of life and it is the responsibility of the devil.

Or we can dig deeper into what Paul is inviting us to.

For Paul, acknowledging that we are helpless is the first step

Much like those who face addiction must acknowledge that they are powerless to whatever addiction has hold over them

But we can't stop there.

It is this passage that really sets Methodists apart from other protestant denominations.

John Wesley's understanding of Romans 7 comes from the Church Fathers before Augustine, from Jacob Arminius position that Romans 7 describes the experience of a humanity before conversion.

Once converted, Wesley emphasized that we need to strive towards Christian perfection and victory over sin --- which can only happen if we allow the spirit to fill us with the grace of God.

For Wesley there is no place for spiritual laziness,

          For procrastination

                   for defeatism.

As followers of Christ, we are urged to seek perfection

          Why?  Because God is perfect (Matthew 5:48)

And to seek holiness

          Because God is holy (1 Peter 1:16)

YES, this is difficult

But for Wesley --- Romans 7 becomes the dividing line

Once we recognize our inability to overcome sin --- we can ask for the Spirit --- we can allow God’s GRACE --- to help us move forward

For me, as I read Paul --- I am convicted that I have a responsibility as a follower of Jesus to live a different way

          I may not always do it well

But until I make it my focus --- I will wallow in sin.

On this 4th of July weekend, I can admit the failure of my country to live up to the ideals that we established 244 years ago.

         

Those ideals are still the greatest example of democracy ever put forth.

But we will never live up to those ideals, until we fully embrace what was dreamed of so long ago.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

When we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

This past week, Mississippi retired their state flag --- a flag that had on it a symbol of hate and oppression.

Maybe --- Just maybe --- together we can make the dream come true.

Amen.

Let us tell God’s story to our nation and world.