Creation, Crucifixion, Resurrection (Colossians 1:15-20)

I’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors lately. Last week I was camping with relatives at Leo Carrillo State Park. Earlier this summer, I helped lead two different sessions of church camp at Loch Leven. A few weeks before that, I was an instructor at a science and nature camp on Catalina Island, a camp to which I’ve been invited to return in the fall.

Our world is a beautiful world, filled with amazing wonders! Spending time outdoors, in nature, I feel at home. I feel more connected to God. I feel a greater sense of oneness with God, and with all of humanity.

So, naturally, I do what I can to share my love of nature with others. At Mini Camp, which I directed, I led the campers on a nature walk, where we saw bugs and caterpillars and the largest pine cone in the world, which comes from a Coulter Pine.

At Leo Carrillo, I led kids on a hike up a mountain, and on a long walk on the beach. We saw dolphins in the distance and crabs up close; we examined sea shells (but didn’t collect them); we saw rabbits and squirrels; and we kept an eye out for snakes. I also convinced enough children to become junior rangers, that the park ran out of junior ranger activity books! (I’m pretty proud of that!)

The campground at Leo Carrillo almost didn’t open this year. It was closed all winter and spring so that the California Department of Parks and Recreation could work to repair flood damage from this year’s storms.

A few years ago, the Woolsey fire, the most destructive wildfire in Los Angeles and Ventura counties’ history, burned through Leo Carrillo State Park. So, for the past few years, when it rains, rather than soaking into the ground, more water washes off the bare hillsides, into the creeks and canyons, carrying more debris, more rocks, more sand.

Each year when this happens, part of the campground washes away.

Loch Leven has also faced its share of wildfires and floods. 

Five years ago, the Valley Fire started in the mountains just east of camp while I was there. The road to camp was closed to everyone but emergency vehicles, and I and several other counselors had to shuttle campers in our own vehicles several miles down the road to the ranger station, because parents weren’t allowed to get any closer to camp.

Two years later, in 2020, the El Dorado Fire very nearly wiped out Loch Leven, but fortunately firefighters were able to protect the main part of our camp, and the only damage was to some of our water infrastructure.

Floods and wildfires have always occurred in southern California. However, extreme events like these are becoming more frequent and more intense, and the reason for that, we know, is climate change. 

This summer—the summer of 2023—has been the hottest summer ever.

Ocean temperatures are setting records, which is causing excessive algae blooms off the California coast, and destructive bleaching of coral reefs off the coast of Florida. And we know that the summers are going to just keep getting hotter, year after year, and the storms are just going to keep getting more intense, and the wildfires are just going to keep getting more destructive, because of climate change.

How often should one preach on climate change? Looking back, I notice I’ve mentioned climate change four times in the past twelve months, but climate change wasn’t really the main focus of any of those sermons. Perhaps that's more mentions than most preachers make, but to me, it doesn’t seem like enough.

Climate change is the existential crisis of our time. We are creating a world that is increasingly hostile to human life, let alone human civilization. 

And if this is the planet we’re leaving to our children and grandchildren, can we really say we love our children and grandchildren? How does one say they love their children, and then leave them an uninhabitable planet?

I notice that the kids I teach, they don’t always feel loved. I do my best to show them love and affirmation, but I’m part of a generation that is passing on to them a world that is now, and will even more increasingly become, hostile to life. 

Hostile to their lives.

Is that any way to show them love?

Every day, entire species disappear. Every day, new climate records are set. Every day, CO2 levels hit a new high. Every day, refugees flee lands that once were hospitable to life, but have become places where life can no longer be sustained. 

If this is the world we’re leaving to our children, how can we honestly say that we love them? If we loved them, wouldn’t we stop destroying the world they will inherit?

And if love is the most important commandment we are to follow, shouldn’t we do better when it comes to protecting the climate, so that our children can have a liveable world, perhaps even a world in which it is still possible to thrive?

When I spend time in nature, I experience a greater spiritual connection. I do like the comforts of home, but living inside of walls tends to separate us from creation.

But the truth is, we are one with creation. We are one with Christ, and Christ is one with creation. 

This unity between us, Christ, and creation, has profound theological implications when it comes to climate change. But first, let me say a word about that unity itself.

In our scripture today—Colossians 1:15-20—it says: [Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created,... He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together… Through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

This is a much bigger idea of Christ than I’m used to. I’m used to thinking of Jesus of Nazareth, born to Mary and Joseph during the reign of Caesar Augustus. But Christ is, as Franciscan theologian Richard Rohr says, “universal.” Christ is the firstborn of all creation, present in creation, since the beginning of time.

Likewise, in the first chapter of John’s gospel, it talks about the Word of God which is Christ. John’s gospel says:  In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him.

Present in all things; present since the beginning of time. Do you think of Christ this way? 

This universal presence of Christ in all things is present in the scriptures I just mentioned, and several others as well. It’s a prominent theme of Celtic Christianity, something I’ve been learning more about lately. 

Christ unites all things, for Christ is in all things. Through Christ, we are one with each other, one with God, and one with all of creation.

So what does it mean, then, when we go about destroying creation? Are we not also destroying one another? Are we not also destroying ourselves? 

And if Christ is present in all of creation, then are we not also crucifying Christ, over and over again, every day that we refuse to repent of the ongoing destruction we are causing?

A few verses later in John’s gospel it says that the Word became flesh and lived among us. I think it is also true to say that the Word became flesh and lives within us, and within those around us.

So every day that we make life more inhospitable to life, we crucify Christ.

When we use fossil fuels for our energy needs, because it’s cheap, and convenient, we are crucifying Christ. 

When we eat way more red meat than is even healthy for us, knowing that consuming huge amounts of red meat is bad for the planet, we are crucifying Christ.

When we support a military that causes so much destruction to the planet, we are crucifying Christ.

When we waste resources, cut down trees, and fill the oceans with plastic, we are crucifying Christ.

When we commute long distances every day in vehicles that carry a single passenger, refusing to invest in public transportation or build communities where housing and jobs exist together, we are crucifying Christ.

And when we elect politicians who are in denial about climate change, or who refuse to act on climate change, we are crucifying Christ.

To stop climate change from getting worse, and to begin to undo some of the damage we have caused, will be hard work. It will require difficult choices. In short, it will require complete repentance, a complete change, in the way we live.

It seems daunting. So much needs to be done, and we’re running out of time. Some days, it really does seem hopeless, as every day brings news about the climate’s ongoing catastrophic collapse.

Should we give up? Is it really nothing but bad news with no hope?

Well, if Christ is being crucified every day, then Christ is also being resurrected every day…

Babies are still being born. Life is still being created. Flowers are still blooming. The earth is still spinning. The tides are still rising and falling. People are still showing love and kindness to one another. 

At Leo Carrillo, every wave that hits the rocky shores eats away at the cliffs, turning them into sand. But deep beneath the earth, new rocks and new mountains are being formed.

Resurrection is ongoing.

As long as these things are still happening, I know that God has not yet given up on the world. God is still creating. And if God is still creating and hasn’t yet given up on the world, then I’m not going to give up on the world either. If God hasn’t yet given up on humanity, then I’m not going to give up either. 

This week, I read a story in a publication by the Ocean Foundation about the fishing village of Cabo Pulmo, Mexico - a story of hope and recovery. 

“In 1995, the local fishing community decided to stop fishing and instead establish a marine reserve - they had witnessed how overfishing had ravaged and depleted their ocean, and they took decisive action to conserve it for present and future generations. Hence, with support from the government and scientists, Cabo Pulmo was declared a Natural Protected Area under Mexican law. During this period, the local fishers embraced new endeavors, such as eco-tourism, as they worked towards their goals. Years later, the results of their efforts are truly remarkable.

“The fishing population in their protected area saw a fivefold increase compared to nearby, unprotected areas, setting a record for the most successful marine conservation effort in history. Today, the ocean is teeming with life once more. Schools of fish swim amongst the coral alongside crustaceans, mollusks, and various birds and marine mammals. The coral reef has rebounded, proving that even the most damaged of ecosystems can recover with time and if protected.”

There are many success stories like this, from all over the world. Notice, though, the repentance it required: how the community needed to reorient their whole economy, in order for this to happen. The community is thriving and prosperous, but it took a lot of work to get there. 

That is the work, the repentance, the complete change in our ways of thinking and living, that is required. 

If we engage in that work, and commit ourselves to it, and work with creation, creation will work with us, and the healing we find won’t just be for creation; the healing will be ours as well.

Because we are one with Creation. And we are one with Christ, who is present in all of creation. So the healing that will come to the earth will be the healing that will come to us. The resurrection that will come to the earth will be the resurrection that will come to us.

Let's Talk About the Kool-Aid (Colossians 1)

 The story I’m about to tell you isn’t a pleasant one. We, in the part of Christ’s body known as the Disciples of Christ, especially don’t like to talk about it. 

If you’re my age or older, you’ve probably heard the story, or at least parts of it. But if you’re much younger than me, you might not have heard the story, because, like I said, we don’t like to talk about it. 

But there are some important lessons in this story. Lessons that are needed, especially today. If we ignore the story and the lessons it has for us, then the tragedy and the horror of this story will be repeated.

In fact, in a very real way, this story is being repeated, every day, in too many churches across America.

Back in the 1970s, there was a preacher who went over to the dark side. In the end, his leadership spelled doom for hundreds of his followers.

His name was Jim Jones. 

Jim Jones’ ministry began in the 1950s. He started a congregation in Indiana called the Peoples Temple. Early on, Jones was affiliated with the Methodist Church. Later, he was ordained in the Assemblies of God. Then, in 1964, Jones switched denominations again, this time joining the Disciples of Christ.

In 1965, Jones moved his church from Indiana to California. Reports of abuse began to surface, and the Disciples of Christ investigated; but no action could be taken. As a denomination we weren’t really all that organized - we didn’t even consider ourselves a denomination yet - and so there was no action the Disciples could take. 

So Jim Jones continued his ministry, with little oversight or accountability. 

But he could not escape attention. Reports continued to surface of abusive behavior. Jones wanted to take his church to a faraway place, where it would be harder for nosy reporters and concerned relatives of church members to interfere. 

So, in 1974, Jones left California and began building a commune in Guyana, a commune that became known as “Jonestown.” Despite that distant location, reports still made it back to the United States. There were accusations that human rights were being violated, and that people were being held in Jonestown against their will. 

Since most of the 1000+ people who went with Jones to Guyana were U.S. citizens, U.S. Congressman Leo Ryan traveled to Jonestown to investigate.

 At the end of his visit, as he and his group were about to leave Jonestown, they were attacked by Jonestown gunmen, and four of them, including the congressman, died that day.

Jim Jones then ordered or coerced the members of his church to drink punch laced with deadly cyanide. It was a brand of punch called Flavor Aid, but early reports mistakenly said it was Kool-Aid. Those who refused were injected with the poison.

This resulted in the deaths of 909 people - many of them, children. It was the greatest single loss of American civilian life in a deliberate act until September 11, 2001.

In the years that followed, the Disciples of Christ responded to the Jonestown tragedy with significant changes for ministerial ethics and a new process to remove ministers who abused their authority or otherwise demonstrated that they were unfit for ministry. Some of the requirements I have to meet for ordination and for standing are meant to prevent this sort of thing from ever happening again.

It is from the Jonestown tragedy that we get the expression “Drinking the Kool-Aid," which refers to a person who has been deceived into believing in a doomed or dangerous idea. And this phrase has become even more popular over time, even though it wasn’t actually Kool-Aid that they drank in Jonestown.

A 2007 episode of the TV show Veronica Mars had “Drinking the Kool-Aid” as its title. A 2017 episode of American Horror Story had “Drink the Kool-Aid” as its title… In February 2012, "Drinking the Kool-Aid" won first place in an online poll by Forbes magazine as "the single most annoying example of business jargon."

When people say that someone has “drunk the Kool-Aid,” they mean someone has believed in a dangerous idea. Someone who “drinks the Kool-Aid” is someone who blindly follows a path that leads to doom.

Like most pastors I know, I try very hard to speak only what is true, to think before I speak, to make sure that the path I lead people on is true and good. I pray often that I don’t lead anyone down a wrong path, a path that leads to doom. I take very seriously my role as a preacher, and my responsibility to share from the pulpit only that which is true, that which brings healing, that which is good and wholesome. 

So I greatly appreciate the prayer Paul offers on behalf of the Colossians, that they may be filled with the knowledge of God's will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding; that they may lead a life worthy of their calling, and that they bear good fruit. I offer that prayer for myself, and I invite others to offer it on my behalf…

…because sometimes I think about how it is that preachers like Jim Jones can deceive so many, and deceive themselves into thinking that what they are doing is right and good. 

And I know that there are today, throughout our country, preachers who continue to persuade and coerce their people to drink the Kool-Aid.

By that I mean, there are preachers feeding their people lies, and convincing them to believe in things that are dangerous to their own well-being. The people are deceived; they’re led down a path that leads to doom. 

Here are three examples of the Kool-Aid given to so many church goers today.

Example number one: Preachers tell their people that science is not to be trusted. 

Jim Jones trained his followers to believe that no one could be trusted but him. Many preachers today do the same. Don’t trust the scientists, they say. If the scientists tell you that human-caused climate change poses an existential threat, don’t believe them.

Yet we know that ignoring the effect humans are having on the climate is leading this planet to destruction. 

Example number two is related to example number one, because it also feeds people the lie that science is not to be trusted. In this case, it is the lie that vaccines are not safe and not effective against viruses. Some preachers have been telling their congregations this. “Don’t get vaccinated. Don’t wear a mask. Trust God, not science.”

That’s some deadly Kool-Aid right there. They’ve had huge, disproportionate numbers of their congregants not only get sick, but die from COVID, because they swallowed that lie. They drank that Kool-Aid.

Example number three: preachers tell their congregations that any government program to help the poor is socialist and contrary to the gospel. And some of them also tell their congregations that, if you are faithful, God will reward you with material wealth.

No one was as faithful to God as Jesus, yet Jesus had no material wealth. And Jesus was constantly ministering to the poor, to the outcasts, to the ones that even the religious leaders wouldn’t help. “The Spirit has anointed me to preach good news to the poor,” were the first words of his ministry.

The government policies promoted by these preachers hurt the poor, and often cause people who are poor to die unnecessarily. As William Barber says, “We have too many people in power, who are too comfortable, with other people dying.”

When the idea first popped into my mind, to compare these pastors who mislead their people to Jim Jones, I said to myself, “You can’t do that. That’s going too far; it’s crossing the line.” But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the comparison is accurate.

Because neither Jonestown nor 9/11 was actually the greatest single loss of American civilian life in a deliberate act; I’m pretty sure the number of people who have died because their pastor said “don’t take that vaccine,” or “don’t wear a mask,” or, “don’t vote for that politician who helps the poor,” or, “don’t worry about climate change, it’s all a hoax,” … the number of people who died because their pastor said something like that is far greater!

These pastors are leading people to their deaths!

I wish this were not so. I wish I could stand with all Christian pastors, in a spirit of unity and friendship, and say, “We have our differences, but we all follow Jesus, and we all are doing our best to bring life and love to the people.” 

But too many people are being given poisoned Kool-Aid to drink, and too many people are dying. And I am not comfortable with that.

Because the way of Christ is the way of life. It’s the way of healing and wholeness - not just for some, but for all of God’s people. 

The way of Christ is the way of love; and anything that does not show love toward one’s neighbor is not the way of Christ.

And the way of Christ is the way of truth, and I’ve got to speak the truth, even if it puts me at odds with a few prominent pastors in our country. 

In today’s scripture from Paul’s letter to the Colossians, Paul prays that those who hear his words bear good fruit. In another letter attributed to Paul, it says that the fruits of the Spirit are (do you remember what they are?): love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

And in Matthew 7, Jesus says you will be able to tell between true prophets and false prophets by the fruit they bear. Good prophets, good leaders, good pastors, bear good fruit. Bad prophets/leaders/pastors bear bad fruit. 

And if people are dying because of something you’ve preached - that’s bad fruit!

Good fruit is fruit that is alive. It is alive, and filled with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

That is what I want in my ministry.

That is what we want in the church.

It is what God wants from us.

To bring life, and healing, and wholeness, to our world. To our community. To our neighbors. To one another. 

To bring freedom and liberation; the gospel is not about enslavement, whether we’re talking about the enslavement of bodies or the enslavement of minds. The gospel isn’t about controlling people. The gospel is about liberation.

In Christ, we have been set free. 

And every time I preach, I pray that my words bring life, and that they help lead people on a good path. 

Because I don’t know how it happens, but I’ve seen too many preachers lead people on a path of doom. 

And I pray that none of us are tempted to go down that path. 

And I pray that none of us, even though we’re not all preachers here, lead anyone down that path because of things we say or things we do. 

And I pray that Bixby Knolls Christian Church is always true to the way of Jesus - true to the gospel - true to the way of life and love and liberation. 

And I pray that people in our community - our neighbors, even those who don’t go to church or don’t believe in God - know that what we say and what we stand for is good and true, and leads to life. 

And I want it to be evident that we are a congregation that is filled with the knowledge of God’s will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding; that we have built and maintained a ministry worthy of our calling; and that we bear good fruit.

Sermon: "Something Different About You" (Colossians 1:11-20)

In the church, we start our year on the first Sunday of Advent. The first Sunday of Advent is next week. Which means that today is the last Sunday of the church year.

The more formal churches among us give this day special recognition: it is Christ the King Sunday.

Other churches, not wanting to sound too patriarchal, call it Reign of Christ Sunday, or the Festival of Christ the Cosmic Ruler.

Whatever you call it, this last Sunday of the Christian year just prior to Advent celebrates the anticipation of Christ’s completion of God’s work of reconciliation of all things in heaven and on earth.

Or, to put it another way: it celebrates the day when all things will be made new in Christ.

Our journey to being made new in Christ is symbolized in baptism.

In baptism, what is old is stripped away, and we are made into something new. For some Christians in the early church, the way they practiced baptism, this was done literally: the one being baptized would strip off all their clothes before entering the water, to symbolize the stripping away of all that is old: all the allegiances they had to this world of darkness.

And then, upon emerging from the waters of baptism, they were given new clothes to wear, clothes that were pure white.

All this symbolized what it says in chapter 3 of Colossians: “You have stripped off your old self with its practices – its greed, its anger and malice – and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. So clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience,… and above all, love.”

There are obvious reasons why we do not practice baptism this way today, but imagine it for a second. If it could be done without the embarrassment of standing naked in front of others, and without the sexualization that our society ascribes to almost any form of nudity, imagine how powerful the symbolism would be.

And, really, it wouldn’t be the first time you were naked in public. The first time was when you were born. And baptism is, after all, a new birth… In baptism “we have been buried with Christ and raised to new life with him through faith…” [2.12].

The purpose of the letter to the Colossians is to remind the letter’s recipients just how different life in Christ is from life in the world. They had been baptized! They had stripped away their old selves, and put on their new identity in Christ. But they – like us – need to be reminded of the significance and the implications of such a radical lifestyle change.

We are made new in Christ! We no longer live in this world. We live in the kingdom of God! We live under the reign of Christ our king. As some Christians like to say, we are in the world, but not of the world.

God has rescued us from the world around us, the world that is ruled by the power of darkness, and God has transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son.

In other words, even though our bodies still exist in this present world, our lives are already oriented to that other world, that other kingdom: the kingdom of God.

This year, as some of you know, I had what was for me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel to another country.

I bought the plane ticket six months before the trip. I went online, found the flight I wanted, entered my credit card info, then clicked the button that said “submit.” And from that moment, I began living in Brazil. My body was still here – the actual trip was still months away – but a part of my head and a part of my heart was already in Brazil.

I downloaded an app on my phone and started learning some words and phrases in Portuguese. I started following some Brazilians on Instagram, so I could learn a little bit about Brazilian culture and maybe figure out a few things that I wanted to see once I arrived.

All this, in preparation for a 15-day trip.

In the same way – but to an even greater degree – the kingdom of Christ is my home. It is my future home; and it is my present home, even though I still live in this world – this world where the powers of darkness reign.

So what do I do? I start learning the language of the kingdom of Christ, my new home. I start living the values of the kingdom of Christ. I start practicing the ways of the kingdom of Christ.

Because the time to start practicing those kingdom values is right now. God has already transferred us there. “He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son.”

The relocation papers have already been completed, filed, stamped, and whatever else is done to make relocation papers official. In a way that’s even more real than my experience of being in Brazil before I actually arrived in Brazil, we are living in the kingdom of God right now, in the present.

And because of that, our lives are changed.

This new life we live gives us access to a new kind of power and strength.

In the kingdom of God, we are made strong with all the strength that comes from the glorious power of God. We are connected to that power through Christ, who is himself the very image of the invisible God. In Christ dwells all the fullness of God.

Ancient people once talked about the fullness of God dwelling in various objects or places. The fullness of God was once said to dwell on Mt. Sinai. The fullness of God was once said to dwell in Zion. The fullness of God was once said to dwell in the Temple.

But now, the fullness of God dwells in a human form – a human form just like you and me! The fullness of God dwells in Jesus.

And you and I are the body of Christ. Just as the various parts of a body are connected to the head, we are connected to Christ.

In the body of Christ – in the church – things are different. We practice the language of the kingdom. We speak it as often as we can.

We practice the customs and traditions of the kingdom.

Day by day, we learn to set aside the langauge and the customs and the traditions of the world of darkness.

In the world of darkness, we look for power in things that can be handled, tasted, or touched. We look for power in wealth. We look for power in fame.

But in the kingdom of Christ to which we have been transferred, power is practiced very differently.

The new clothing that we have put on after our baptism shows the source of our power. That power is found in compassion, kindness, humility. We see that power practiced through bearing with one another, forgiving one another, rather than judging and ridiculing and belittling others.

We see that power is most of all expressed through love. Love has the power to bind all things together in perfect harmony.

It is Christ’s kingdom. And how does Christ rule? With love. Look at everything he did. Look at how he treated people, including his enemies. Especially his enemies. And look at how he had compassion on those who suffered from the prejudice and hatred and fear of society…

Love guided everything he did. You never had to question his motives. What was his motive?

Love.

So the question that the letter to the Colossians asks is this: If you have a present and future home in the kingdom of God, why do live as if you still belonged to this world? If you have been baptized in Christ, why have you gone back and put on those old clothes that you once wore? If you are living in the kingdom, and Christ the king rules over the kingdom with love … where is your love?

Dick Hamm, former General Minister and President of our denomination, wrote a book called 2020 Vision, and in that book he says that many of us in the church could work in an office, sit right next to the same co-worker for 25 years, and that co-worker probably wouldn’t even notice anything different about us.

Not a thing!

But don’t you think there should be something noticeably different about a person who so fully lives in the kingdom, and so fully practices the kingdom value of love? Don’t you think that a person who has stripped off the old and put on the new would look at least a little different? Something that might even look a little strange to other people?

In that same book Dick Hamm tells the story of a church elder “who was sitting in a board meeting one night while a discussion was going on about some matter of importance in that congregation. Someone said something that sparked his anger. As the conversation proceeded, he could feel his anger rising until he could stand it no more. He jumped to his feet, ready to tell them all what he thought about their ‘stupid idea.’ But just as he was about to open his mouth, he remembered something. He slowly sat down and mumbled, ‘I’m sorry, I almost forgot. Dead men don’t speak.’”

In that moment, he remembered that he had been buried with Christ, and raised to new life. He remembered that, in Christ, he was a new person, clothed in compassion, kindness, humility, patience, and love. The old person that he once was, who was quick to tell others how stupid they were, had died. And now he had to let it be dead.

But he remembered. He remembered that he had stripped away that old self and had put on Christ. He remembered where his heart and his home were. And he was trying, as best as he could, to live in the kingdom of God, and to practice loving kindness in every way, with every person.