Preachers and teachers of preaching speak about the application of a text. When I grew up, appliqués were simply ironed onto jeans and T-shirts. We were often frustrated when the washer and dryer began the ugly process of separating appliqué from fabric. The best of our art and words were ruined. They could not withstand the cycle of water and heat.
A few years ago a group of clergy friends and I were at our general synod in Cleveland. We went to the breakfast buffet at our hotel and ran into more friends there. Soon, we were pushing the bounds of our table.
Next to us was a group of small tables with a Reserved sign on top. We asked the waiter if we could pull one of them over so our friends could join us. He said he thought the party that was coming would have enough space, so that was fine.
What if all the energy we spent on taming the flesh were channeled toward loving the world?
Doesn’t God have better things to do than arrange marriages?
I remember the first time I preached on this short passage of scripture, out in rural South Dakota. Just three verses, and I thought I had a rousing sermon on reaching out to the little ones, giving a cup of water to those who need it, and seeing Jesus. I even told a story I gleaned from the Century, about a family who prayed “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest” at a local fast-food establishment, and how the little girl saw Jesus in the face of a homeless man who needed a hamburger.
Jesus keeps saying, “Do not be afraid.” But there’s so much to be afraid of.