Last Sunday, on that rainy morning, we took notice of a cloud, the great cloud of witnesses, the saints of the church and of our lives. We remembered those who were important to us, who shaped and influenced our lives, who nurtured our faith, and with whom we shared a deep, abiding love.
Last Sunday we also remembered the saints of generations past, notable figures whose lives were examples to the generations of what it means to be a follower of Jesus.
Now I don’t know about you, but sometimes for me, when I remember the lives of the saints, and all the great things they did, a thought sneaks its way into my mind, a thought that threatens to paralyze me, hold me back, and keep me from fully being all that God has called me to be.
That thought is: “Who am I? How can ‘plain old me’ ever compare to the lives of the saints? I’m nobody. What can I do? I don’t have a lot of influence. I don’t have a lot of power or importance. I struggle so much, day-to-day, just to get by, just to make it through life….
“I lack confidence. I’m insecure. I’m too old. I’m too young. I’m too poor. I’m too lazy. I’m too stressed. I’m too anxious. And I’m just plain not good enough. I’m just me. Not a saint. Just me.”
Anybody here ever have thoughts like that?
In the scripture we just heard, I like to think that I’m one of those who doubles his talents. I mean, we always want to identify with the guy who comes out looking good, right? I want to think of myself as the guy who takes what he is given, does something good with it, and turns it into something greater.
And sometimes, I do. But other times, because I lack confidence in myself or because I doubt God or because I think I’m not good enough, I take my talents, and I bury them in the ground. After all, what can “plain old me” really do?
On December 9, 1579, in the city of Lima, Peru, Martin de Porres was born. Martin was the illegitimate son of a Spanish nobleman and a woman who was a black former slave from Panama.
Martin had the dark complexion of his mother, and that irked his father, who abandoned the family. So Martin was raised in poverty by his mother, until she could no longer support him. Then he was sent away.
Locked in the lowest level of Lima’s society, abandoned by his father, cast away by his mother, and labeled a half-breed, Martin could very easily have turned bitter. He could have taken what little life had given him – certainly less than one talent – and locked it away, hidden it, or buried it in the ground.
But he didn’t.
When he was about 11 or 12, he began an apprenticeship with a barber, from whom he learned how to cut hair and also provide medical care, drawing blood, treating wounds, preparing and administering medicine.
Around the same time, he also became a servant boy with the Dominican convent in Lima. His devotion to prayer and to caring for the sick caught the attention of his superiors. There was a rule that no black person could be accepted into their order, but eventually they decided to ignore that rule and allow Martin to become a Dominica brother in 1603.
Martin continued to nurse the sick and care for the poor. Some of his cures were considered miraculous. He treated all people regardless of color, race, or status. He even treated with kindness animals and all living creatures, including the rats at the monastery, and he was committed to eating a vegetarian diet.
Martin founded an orphanage and took care of slaves that had been brought from Africa. He raised tons of money, mostly by begging, to buy medical supplies that the convent could not afford, and even obtained thousands of dollars for dowries for poor girls so that they could get married.
Throughout his life, he considered himself just a poor slave. When his convent was in debt, he said, “I am only a poor mulatto. Sell me. I am the property of the order. Sell me.”
One day, an old beggar, dirty, covered with ulcers and almost naked, stretched out his hand, and Martin took him to his own bed. He was criticized for this, but Martin replied, “Compassion is preferable to cleanliness.”
In 1962, the Catholic Church recognized Martin de Porres as a saint. Pope John XXIII said of him: “He tried with all his might to redeem the guilty; lovingly he comforted the sick; he provided food, clothing, and medicine for the poor; he helped, as best he could, farm laborers, Negroes, as well as mulattos, who were looked upon at that time as akin to slaves. Thus he deserves to be called by the name the people gave him: ‘Margin of Charity.’”
Today Martin de Porres is recognized as the patron saint of social justice, and of people of mixed race.
I wonder if Martin de Porres ever said, “Who am I?” or “How can ‘plain old me’ ever compare to the lives of the saints…” He did think of himself, throughout his life, as nothing but a “poor slave.” Certainly he would seem to be one to whom life had given very little, and even less to invest.
But Martin de Porres did invest his life. He invested it into the Bank of the Kingdom of Heaven, the “BofK.” And the return on that investment was HUGE.
Each one of us has been given something we can invest. It may be big or it may be small, but that doesn’t really matter. At the very least, you have been given a life, which, when you think about it, is no small thing.
What are you doing with the life that you have been given? What will you do with it? Will you dig a hole in the ground and bury it? Will you hide it? Will you say, “my life isn’t much; what can I do?”
Well, your life might not be much, but I think it’s safe to say that it’s certainly more than one who was born an illegitimate, mixed race child in a time of racism and slavery, abandoned by his parents and raised in poverty.
So what are you going to do?
Bixby Knolls Christian Church has been a part of this community for over 65 years. God has called us to be a movement for wholeness in our community and in our world, seeking justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God. The saints of our own congregation’s past have given to us an inheritance of many talents: this building, this ministry, our life together.
When I talk to people who don’t currently attend church, I often find that the type of church they wish they could find is exactly the type of church we are. They’re looking for a church that reaches out beyond its walls; a church that is doing good things for the community, rather than simply judging people; a church where it’s okay to ask deep questions, where you don’t have to check your brain in at the door or agree to a lengthy doctrinal statement.
In short, a church that follows Jesus by serving the poor, bringing healing and wholeness to those whose lives are broken, and working to build a world of peace and justice.
This is what we do. This is who we are. And the reason it is what we do and who we are is that we ourselves have experienced the transforming power of God’s spirit in our lives. We’ve experienced healing. We’ve felt the prayers that have been said on our behalf. We’ve been accepted at the Lord’s Table just as we are, with all our strengths as well as our imperfections.
What a wonderful gift we have received in the ministry of this congregation!
Do we dare hide it from the world? Do we dare dig a hole in the ground and bury it?
Of course not.
Our congregation is a treasure worth more than any number of talents. The generosity that you all have shown toward maintaining this ministry signifies that you are aware of just how precious this congregation is, and how life-transforming this congregation is for you and can be in the lives of our neighbors.
So let’s take our talents and invest them. Let’s renew our commitment to the ministry we share. Let’s celebrate the many ways we serve our community, the ways we bring wholeness to our community, and let’s constantly look for new opportunities to serve and to share and to invite our neighbors to experience God’s transformation.
In your bulletin is a copy of our Advent calendar. You received one last week; that one is for you. The one you received today is for you to share with a friend or neighbor. Any Sunday is a good Sunday to invite someone to come, but the Sundays of Advent are an especially good time, with all the special music and programs that take place. Or, invite them to come with you to a Wednesday night dinner. Attending worship for the first time can be an intimidating experience for some, but coming to an informal dinner can be a little less so.
The greatest gift and blessing this church has – our most valuable talents – are our people. YOU are a precious gift from God. Don’t hide. Don’t bury yourself in a hole. That’s not what God created you for. Instead, invest yourself. Let your light shine. Do all you can to let the world know that here, in God’s presence, they are welcome.
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