I lost my voice two Sundays ago right
in the middle of the 8:45 sermon in our contemporary worship service. My throat had been getting raw and
weak since the Thursday before, but it didn’t completely go until midway
through the first sermon of the day. (I have looked back to see what I might
have been saying in case God was intervening to prevent me from propagating
heresy or just being plain silly.) I finally went to my doc who pumped me up
with steroids and antibiotics. So far, there hasn’t been much relief. I
whispered my sermons this past Sunday as well and I can’t speak so far this week at camp where I'm one of the Ministers-In Residence—maybe a
break for the campers. The coolest thing about the whole experience is what
happened when I tried to keep preaching. Everyone in the worship center got
particularly quiet and still and seemed to lean in to what I was saying, as if
they actually wanted to hear it. It was a beautiful act of grace that touched
me deeply. Thank you my wonderful friends for your kindness.
But this has caused me to think
about others in our churches (not necessarily CUMC but…) who have lost their
voices, too. I think of persons of certain nationalities and ethnic groups who
are still told they have no voice by some churches. I think of divorced persons
who have been told, wrongly, in my opinion, that they have no voice in church
because a relationship spiraled out of control. I think of persons who have
made mistakes that they would like to move beyond who have lost their voices
because of accusing stares and murmured criticism. I think of persons who
because of human sexuality issues feel they have no voice in church. And before
anyone gets their blood pressure up over this hot-button issue please
understand that I’m not talking about theological debates. I am talking about
basic hospitality in the name of Jesus who loves everyone and like the Good
Shepherd He is listens carefully for the voices of all his sheep when we call.
There are families trapped in poverty who often feel they have no voice because
they don’t seem to fit in with others in the church. The list could go on and
on.
As we continue with our current
sermon series, Tales of the Early Church, we will encounter a recurring
narrative of Jesus listening for those whose voices could have been lost. There’s
Saul, a persecuting Pharisee who becomes an evangelist and church planter named
Paul. How about Peter’s dream where he learns that there is nothing—read no
one—that is unclean and without a voice. This opened the mission to the
Gentiles who had no voice in Judaism. That would be you and me. Or the
Ethiopian Eunuch who was disqualified for a number of reasons but whose voice
was heard by Philip and was baptized after a Bible study.
We are part of what I think is an
exceptionally accepting church, for the most part. But, we’re not perfect.
However, Jesus is, and his perfect love flowing through us can help us to be
quiet and still and lean in toward persons who may feel they have lost their
voice. It’s a beautiful act of grace that can transform lives. And that, my
friends, is why there’s a cross on our church. May we listen carefully for the
faintest voices and give them a place to resonate with the love of Christ. Now,
where’s that warm salt water?
