"People are Talking" Mark 3:20-35

We’ve gathered here because we believe there exists one God, one divine being, one Creator Spirit, filled with compassion for all of creation.  In many ways this higher power is a mystery to us, but we believe that God was revealed in a very special way through a man who lived 2,000 years ago:  Jesus of Nazareth.

Jesus felt a call from God to bring healing and wholeness to God’s people.  He knew what his life’s purpose was.  So he went around, teaching and interpreting the scriptures.  He forgave people of their sins.  And as a sign that he had the authority to do such things, he healed those who were sick, paralyzed, and disfigured.

His style was different.  Most religious leaders did their work in the temple; Jesus was often out in the street.

Most religious leaders insisted that people follow certain procedures and rituals, that they do things “properly;” Jesus only cared about what was in their heart.

Most religious leaders were always aware of the repercussions of anything they did, and they acted accordingly. They knew Rome was watching, and that knowledge influenced their ministry.  Jesus didn’t care what Rome thought.

Most religious leaders had certain “office hours,” which certainly did not include the Sabbath; Jesus said that saving a life is more important than the Sabbath, something that Jewish rabbis then and now would agree with, actually, but something that certain groups of Pharisees and priestly officials apparently forgot.

Anyway, it was clear that Jesus did his own thing, that he had his own style.  He spent much time in prayer and meditation to make sure what he was doing was right.  He wanted to be sure he understood his life’s work and his mission.  Because once he began his work, he wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stop him.

Don’t you wish you had that kind of confidence?  I do.

When I started my ministry here at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, a little over four years ago, my family was living in Burbank with my Dad, in the same house where I grew up.  That in itself wasn’t exactly a confidence booster, although it ended up working out well, and all of us were thankful for the opportunity it provided.

So once I began here, I spent two months commuting from Burbank to Long Beach.

However, I refused to deal with freeway traffic.  I don’t know how people spend hours every week sitting in traffic without going insane. 

So instead of dealing with traffic, I rode Metro trains from North Hollywood, not far from the house in Burbank, to Long Beach.  It worked out great.  I was even able to work on sermons while riding.

It didn’t take long for me to notice bike lockers at the Wardlow Metro station.  Using a bike to get from there to here would be helpful, I realized.  So:  I bought a bike, and began riding it.

Before coming to Long Beach, I wasn’t much of a cyclist.  I didn’t even have a bike.  But, as they say, you never forget how to ride a bike.

Two months later, we moved to Long Beach.  However, I decided that it made sense to keep riding my bike.  I had discovered too many good reasons to ride:  it saved money; it was good for the environment; it was good for my health; it was fun; and sometimes it was a necessity, as my family only had one car, and it wasn’t always available to me.

That’s a lot of reasons to ride, and there was only one reason not to ride.  Anyone want to guess what that one reason was?

I was worried about what other people would think.

I know.  It’s silly.  But even now I feel a little insecure when I remember one particular religious leaders meeting I attended, showing up on my bike, a little embarrassed at my undistinguished mode of transportation. 

I know you’ve been there.  You know what I’m talking about.  Every person here has made a decision at some point, to do or not do something based on what other people would think.

I recently read The Man Who Quit Money by Mark Sundeen.  It’s the biography of a man named Daniel Suelo, who wanted to live a life free of money and all the complications that come with money.  He realized that acquiring ever more possessions and wealth leads to greater anxiety, stress and worry, and he wanted to be completely free of that.

Obviously, this meant becoming homeless.

For years, he had simplified his life as much as he could, but had still not completely given up money or having a roof over his head.  He was afraid to take that leap.

A paragraph in the biography reads:

Why was he so terrified of being homeless?  Was it the physical hardship?  No. He loved camping and being outdoors.  He thought pitching a tent in a windstorm and figuring out how to stay dry through the thundershowers was fun.  No, the real fear of being homeless lay in worrying about what other people would think.  The stigma.  And he thought: If I can overcome what people think of me, I can overcome anything.

Jesus went around, teaching, healing, not worrying about what the religious leaders thought or what the Romans thought.  And he was homeless.

So of course people began to talk.  They even went to his family, and told them:  “He’s gone out of his mind!  You better come and put a stop to this.  Take him home.  Get him some help.”

Now, I don’t want people saying things like that about me.  My guess is that you don’t want people saying things like that about you.  We don’t want the stigma.  We need other people’s approval.

Jesus didn’t seem particularly concerned with all that.  When he was told that his family had arrived to take him, he said, “Who is my family?  All those who do the will of God are my family.”

The true story of Darrell Vandelveld is featured in the book Beautiful Souls by Eyal Press.  Vandeveld was a senior prosecutor at the Office of Military Commissions in Guantánamo.  He was proud of the work he did, doing his part to protect Americans, until he began to doubt the validity of the U.S. government’s charges against some of the detainees, and question the treatment they received.

No one else seemed to care or even notice these things, but Vandeveld felt it was his duty to inform his superiors that things didn’t seem to be up to the high standards that he believed America represented.  So he spoke out.

His superiors immediately ordered him to undergo a psychological evaluation.  He was the only one who had a problem with the abuses that were taking place; therefore he must be out of his mind; right?

Vandeveld was then released from active duty; and even though he had previously received two Joint Meritorious Unit Awards and a Bronze Star, he was made to feel as if he was a traitor.

He was told that he was wrong, that he was crazy, that he was a traitor.  This was not easy for Vandeveld to take.  It wouldn’t be easy for anyone.  But Vandeveld knew he was right, and he insisted that the country he loved be right as well; and he had no regrets.

So he stood firm.  To compromise what he knew to be right would have meant compromising his own character and integrity, and that, he would not do.

He said: “I went to Guantánamo on a mission, and the mission that I achieved was my own salvation.”

About 150 years before Jesus there lived a man named Daniel, a faithful Jew living in a time of persecution.  When the king banned prayer, everyone stopped praying to God except Daniel.  Daniel ignored the order, praying three times a day.

Well, people started talking.  Word got back to the king, and the king had Daniel thrown into a pit of hungry lions.

Daniel knew that the consequences for doing what he knew was right would be severe, but he didn’t care.  He did what he knew was right anyway, even though he was alone, not worrying about what other people would think, not worrying about the consequences.

As it turned out, Daniel was miraculously protected from the lion’s jaws.

On another occasion, a different king set up a giant golden statue, and ordered all his officials to bow down and worship it.  But three of his officials – Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego – refused to do so, even though they, like Daniel, knew that the consequences would be severe.

When brought before the king, they made no defense, insisting that they had to follow their conscience.  So the king had them thrown into a giant furnace of blazing fire – but, miraculously, they survived unharmed.

Jesus did what was right, obeying the will of God.  He knew people would talk.  He knew some would call him crazy.  He knew the consequences would be severe.

And of course, the consequences for Jesus were severe.

But because of Jesus, the world has changed.  He has shown us how to live, how to live for God, how to love and show compassion to one another, how to live in a way that honors the Spirit that dwells within us.

So often, we know what’s right.  I really believe that.  Most people, I believe, know what is right most of the time.  We don’t need anyone to tell us.  And most of the time, we really want to do what is right.  Like Daniel Suelo, we find doing what’s right to be rewarding and liberating.  Like Darrell Vandeveld, we find our own salvation in doing what is right.

But we’re so worried about what other people will think.  What will people think if I lower my standard of living so that I can do more and give more to the things I believe in?  What will people think if I move to a smaller place, lowering my rent or mortgage so I have more to spend on what’s really important?  What will people think if I say, “Sorry, I can’t go to the mall today because I’m volunteering at a service project.”  What will people think if I sell my car or my TV so that I can give the money to charity or to the church?

Does it really matter what people talk about, what they say about us, if we know that what we are doing is right?  Let’s worry, instead, about what Jesus says and about what God thinks.

Not only would doing so make the world a better place; it is also what will bring meaning to our lives.