Chris Taylor’s Sermon – 6/15/08
Expanding the Impact
Exodus 18:13-23
Matthew 9:35-10:8a
This is the third Father’s Day since my dad died back in the fall of 2005. Inevitably, my thoughts have turned to him this past week as I prepared for this Sunday.
Mom and Dad had four sons. I was third in line – seven years younger than my oldest brother and seven years older than my youngest. In spite of the great range between us I have no doubt that all of us would agree about Dad’s greatest passion in life. It was my mom. He always said that the very first time he saw her coming down the steps of her dorm at Wellesley he figured he was the luckiest guy in the world. That never changed. Even in the advanced phases of Alzheimer's, years after he had forgotten who I was, his face would still light up when Mom entered the room. He would say something like “Wow! I know you!” His sense of great good fortune in her presence never left him.
There was a great deal that Dad enjoyed in this life. He loved his work and took great pride in the law firm that he and his partner had built up through the years. He was passionate about the Redskins and held season tickets for literally decades. He loved sailing and being with good friends, and good jokes and working on his investments. As my brothers and I married and began having kids of our own, Dad seemed to particularly enjoy having the whole family gathered together, and sharing a meal around their great dining room table.
There were a number of things he passed on to us: the importance of family; of doing the right thing no matter what the cost; of giving a job your very best. There are so many ways in which we are touched and shaped by our parents. I’ve come to believe that it is virtually impossible to separate all the strands, large and small, that connect one generation to the next. But I think you can identify some of the big ones.
With Dad, one of those big ones was his love of Mom. That has had an impact on each of our own marriages. Another one was his commitment to education, and his conviction that each of us could excel academically. The quickest way to disappoint or anger Dad was to turn in a mediocre report card. He knew that we could do better, and by the time each of us reached high school and college, that conviction had found its place in our own hearts. Because he believed in us, we believed, as well.
That kind of belief is incredibly empowering. It calls you to risk giving your very best. It increases our capacity to persevere; to overcome those obstacles and challenges that routinely come our way. Believing in your children and communicating that belief is one of the most important gifts a parent can offer.
This past week Doug Bradbury shared a video with me about a parent who did precisely that. But his was no ordinary parent. His name is Dick Hoyt. He has a son named Ricky, the victim of a disabling disease that has left him unable to walk, or even to speak.
Dick and his wife were told their son had no future. They were encouraged to give up and place him in an institution where he could get the kind of constant care that he was going to require. They refused. The could see the mind that was very much alive and fully functioning within. The believed in him and so chose to make his life as full and as joyful as they possibly could.
Rick, then, grew up as very much a part of their family. Their passions became his own. When they bought him a computer that would allow him so communicate, his very first words weren’t “Hi Mom,” or “Hi Dad.” His first words were “Go Bruins!” It was Rick who first suggested that he and his father enter into a charity race together. Sitting in a specially designed cycle with his father pushing behind him, the two of them came in second to last. But they weren’t last, and they finished the race, and Ricky loved it. He told his father, “When I’m running I feel like my disability disappears.” That sealed it.
In the years since they have participated in all kinds of events that have included 60 marathons and 6 ironman triathlons. Even more, with his parent’s support Rick has graduated not just from high school, but from college, as well.
“I may be disabled,” Ricky says, “but I lead a very fulfilling life.” That life is this incredible gift that his parents have given him. It is happy, it is full. It is the gift, most especially, of this father who is so clearly committed to doing whatever it takes to bless his son. His parents believed in him. They believed in the value of his life, and in his capacity to accomplish anything he set his mind to. Together, their motto is “Yes, you can.”
“Yes, you can.” That is precisely the message that comes to us here in our second lesson this morning. It is God’s belief in us; God telling us that no matter what our circumstances our lives can make a difference.
In our text we find Jesus confronted with these great crowds as he wanders through Galilee proclaiming the good news of the Kingdom. Scripture tells us that as he saw their need he had compassion. “Compassion” doesn’t quite capture the power of the original Greek here – a word that refers to something visceral, something felt deep within. Jesus hurt for these people; the kind of deep, compelling hurt that a parent might feel who sees their child struggling.
The need is everywhere he says, “the harvest is plentiful.” In fact, the need is so great, so pervasive, that just one person, or just a few people, can’t possibly begin to address it. “The laborers are few.” What does he do? He commissions these twelve very ordinary people – people who again and again had misunderstood and misinterpreted and misapplied his message. He commissions these twelve, and through them all of us, to go out and respond to this need.
This is Jesus saying “Yes, you can.” You can be a part of this great Kingdom work. Your life can matter. It can make a difference. You, too, can be part of something beautiful and good. You can be part of all eternity.
The other day Bonnie and I were driving past Homewood Cemetery, and we took a few minutes to pull in and drive around for a while. I wanted to show her Section 14, the permanent home to some of the most famous families in Pittsburgh; families with names like Heinz, Benedum, Frick, and Mellon.
Taken individually, those monuments and mausoleums are remarkably beautiful. The craftsmanship is superb. But taken together, in such close proximity, and they almost seem to fight against each other. The net affect is a kind of haphazard, disharmonious feeling that is the inevitable result of so many individual choices placed so closely together.
Adding to the sense of disquiet was the absence of any people. There was no one else in that section; no one walking around or visiting the remains of some much-loved family member. Instead, there were just these massive edifices – each of them costing a small fortune – standing very much alone.
Jesus isn’t inviting us here to build a monument to ourselves that might endure for a generation or two and then be forgotten. He is inviting us to become a part of something that extends into all eternity. He is inviting us, calling us, to have an impact for the Kingdom.
My Dad got it right. He knew that his greatest legacy was not going to be in everything he accomplished at work (and he accomplished a great deal). He believed that his greatest legacy would be his children, and his children’s children. His greatest legacy would be the lives he touched along the way.
“Yes, you can.” You don’t have to be a Gates or a Buffet to make a difference in this world. You don’t have to be a Mellon, or a Frick or a Benedum to create something that is going to last. No matter who you are, no matter what your life situation, you can be a part of God’s Kingdom work. You can be part of something that even now is changing our world.
Jesus knew he couldn’t do it alone. Instead, he entrusted the whole of his life’s work to those ordinary men. The Gospel would live or die dependent on them, and on their choices. So in our own time, in this place and in this community, it will live or die dependent upon us. This is God’s way of saying, “Yes, you can.” It reflects God’s conviction that we, too, can make a difference – a difference woven ultimately into the very fabric of eternity itself.
What is your legacy going to be – an empty monument, or a work that is going to continue to touch and change lives for generations to come? Nothing is going to so shape your legacy as your willingness to say “yes” to God.