Blessed are the Pure in Heart

Once there was someone who said such amazing things and did such wonderful things that people began to follow him.

“Well, do you follow him?” a little boy interrupted me.

It was the opening lines of our Children’s Chapel where we are using Jerome Berryman’s Godly Play approach. The scene is very intentionally set with specific language and a sequential script. And I was just into my opening lines when I fielded the question.

The little boy had heard similar opening lines before.

When we talk about Baptism, I say, “Once there was someone who said such amazing things and did such wonderful things that people began to follow him. But they didn’t know who he was. So one day they simply had to ask him. And he said, ‘I am the Light.’”

Or when we hear the Great Pearl Parable, “Once there was someone who said such amazing things, and did such wonderful things, that people began to follow him. As they followed he told them about a kingdom: the Kingdom of Heaven. But they did not understand. They had never been to such a place. And They didn’t know anyone who had. They didn’t even know where it was. So one day they simply had to ask him, ‘What is the Kingdom of Heaven like?’”

And this day, we were preparing to hear the parable of the sower, and my script was to read “Once there was someone who said such amazing things and did such wonderful things that people began to follow him. One day he told them this parable. A sower went out to sow.”

But as you know I didn’t quite get that far. Maybe it was because he had heard me say it so many times before, or maybe he just didn’t want to hear about the parable, or maybe he just wanted to get to know me better; but, for whatever reason, before I could get to the end of the opening, I heard a loud, clear, rather demanding voice, question me, “Well, DO YOU FOLLOW HIM?”

Once there was someone who said such amazing things and did such wonderful things that people began to follow him. “Well, Do you follow him?”

As you know this summer we are considering the Beatitudes. With Allysen, Todd and Alex we have been thinking about the radical upside-downness of the kingdom that God intends. We have heard how those who hunger will be filled, how those who mourn will be comforted, and how those who are merciful will receive mercy. Today, we hear that is the pure—the pure—in heart who will see God.

It’s a fitting beatitude for me to consider as a Children’s Minister.

There is no doubt in my mind that being in ministry with children is to be in close proximity to the pure in heart. There is no other congregation where love is so easily given and received. Where difference is so readily accepted. Where conflict comes quick and forgiveness even more quickly. Where stories are straightforward and funny. And Intentions. Thoughts. Moral centers are pure. Pure in heart. And they help me to see God.

But I’ll also say that there is no doubt in my mind that being in ministry with children is also an incredibly humbling path to discipleship.

There’s the humility that comes with realizing one’s own limitations to sing on tune without accompaniment. Or the humility abandoning a well thought out and prepared plan for some much-needed playtime. Or recognizing the precision of thought necessary to answer some of their questions.

Now, there are some questions you can answer quite easily, like- Am I still a part of the church family if I was baptized in Pennsylvania and not in Decatur? Yes, of course you are!

Other inquiries demand more careful responses. “Why did those people kill Jesus? Why do they want him to die?”

In her book “100 Things Every Child Should Know Before Confirmation” Elizabeth Kirkpatrick fields such a question with this thoughtful reply. “People make bad choices, they often don’t understand what is happening around them, and they didn’t understand what they were doing.”

And then there’s those questions—and honestly these seem to trip me up the most—that are simple questions and should require a seemingly straightforward response, but somehow get me flustered.

I remember many years ago in a previous call, I was working with children to learn the Apostle’s Creed, and I was completely dumbfounded by a sweet 1st grader’s question, “Well, is Jesus here in the room with us right now?”

I wanted to respond with the intricacies of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, power of worship and the sacraments, but that wasn’t the right way to go for a 1st grader. So my co-leader, a more experienced mom and pastor said simply, “Yes. Jesus is with us now.”

And a couple Sundays ago, “Well, do you follow him?” You see, a lengthy response about my professional training with intricate language around a nuanced theology of discipleship commenting on my quite regular attendance at church would not have made a disciple of this 1st grader.

So drawing on my former experiences, I said, “Yes, Yes. I follow Jesus.”

But it got me thinking- why did I hesitate? Why would I want to qualify my answer? Would you?

Do you follow him?

Yes, but I haven’t thought about it in awhile. I can’t focus on much more than the next paycheck right now. There’s too much going on for me at the moment to pray or read the Bible or serve others, so yes, but maybe. I don’t know.

Do you follow Jesus?

Yes, the world seems so messed up right now, I’m having a hard time hoping in much. And I’m not sure what happens in the next life, so is that faithful?

Do you follow Jesus?

Maybe, I mean I come to church. I’m even in leadership, but I’m basically confused about most of it. People can say they are Christian and do totally different things. Don’t take my word for it, check out my Facebook feed. So I don’t know, do I?

Do you follow Jesus?

No, I don’t think so, I’ve been backsliding since the altar call when I was teenager. But my grandmother did. She was in church every Sunday and always tithed. That’s not really me.

Do you follow Jesus?
No, I just came in because I needed a place to sit and people to love me.

Do you follow Jesus?

There are a variety ways the Bible shows us to follow Christ.

There’s the people like Paul, missionaries who set off to foreign lands with plans of actions and apologias. No uncertainty, no hesitation, a clear sense of calling in this world.

And then there’s those like Thomas or Peter, or the Disciples swamped in the stormy boat—those who doubt and question. Those who debate who this Jesus is and hesitate to claim what he means for them.

And then there are those, thousands and thousands, who simply show up with the need to be fed.

There are stories of immediate and powerful conversions, Zachheaus the tax collector who spots Jesus from a tree top perch and the turns into generous giver. Or the Ethiopian eunuch who stops the chariot at the side of the road and jumps out to be baptized.

But then there are the stories of more gradual discipleship. Those who have been Presbyterian Christian all their lives. They speak of faith as a position of duty or dedication to the memory of others. Second Timothy’s letter recalls the faith of his mother and grandmother, Lois and Eunice, as central to his own.

In our scripture for today, the gospel story shows us two portraits of deep discipleship that are very different.

In one picture of following Jesus, we have Martha who is practicing “Diakonia,” a Greek word for table service, food preparations and hospitality. But it’s also used throughout scripture to mean a broader ministry. She’s a practical, other-oriented, do-er disciple.

And there’s Mary who is marked as the more contemplative one. She chooses to sit at Jesus feet and listen. We see this posture depicted as that of a disciple over and over again in scripture. By listening and hearing, Mary follows Jesus too.

It’s tempting when we read this gospel story to pit these two postures against each other. We can easily deride Martha’s interaction with Jesus, her hustle and bustle, and the work that she is doing, while pointing out that Jesus calls Mary “the better one,” and Martha “distracted” and “worried.”

But here’s the thing, not every translation has Jesus calling Mary’s choice the “better” one. The King James Version says, Mary has chosen the “good” part.

One can imagine there are other good ways to go. Particularly when we think of the variety of discipleship role models we see in scripture, including the virtuous, bold, generous, tentative and worried.

And what’s more when Jesus, the Lord answers Martha, saying, “MARTHA, MARTHA, you are worried and distracted by many things.” It is not a dismissive response, nor is it a judgmental upbraiding. It is comforting, his repetition of Martha’s name is a rhetorical device used to indicate compassion or pity. It is genuinely sensitive, showing his love. “Martha, Martha, you are worried.”

Jesus may want more for Martha, to draw her back to what is essential, to encourage in her a purity of heart. Jesus may want more for Martha, but he doesn’t reject her attempts to follow him.

Could this be why we shy away from our discipleship claims? The worry that Jesus will sweep in, shake his head, and say, “Geez, you are so worried and distracted. You really could have done better. You call yourself a follower?”

But from scripture, we can imagine Jesus seeing Mary kneeling right in front of his feet and expressing his love for her and her choice. But with his words, we also can imagine Jesus seeing Martha and coming alongside her. “Martha, Martha, remember I love you, too.”

There is no perfect disciple. The Bible, our guidebook to discipleship, shows so many, many ways to follow Christ. If you breeze through the door to find yourself immediately at home here, or stumble into a meeting and question the whole time you are here. If you evangelize the person beside you on the street, or show you are Christian by your love. If you know how to protest or if you’d rather write a letter. If you pray ever day, or if you forget to pray every day.

There is no perfect Disciple. We are all Children of God.

When he asks you “Do you follow me?”

Yes, yes you do.

There is no perfect disciple, but there is a perfect God. The one who loved the world so much, he became the perfect human, knowing us intimately and loving us still, dying and rising, doing and saying the most amazing things that people just had to follow him.

Rev. Jamie Butcher
Decatur Presbyterian Church
Decatur, GA
July 17, 2016