Finding Faith ... in living in humility and generosity

EDITOR'S NOTE: In October 2017 I began a new venture as a synodically authorized minister at Faith Lutheran Church in Wolverton, Minn. The ride over the past 2.5 years has been an amazing journey of learning, growing and the deepening of my theological mind. This sermon originally took place on Sept. 1, 2019.

This past Thursday night, Shelley and I traveled to Rogers, Minn., to see our son Carter play in his first varsity football game.

He’s a junior now, and while he got in a for a few plays at the end of a couple of games last year, in what they call the “scrub time” or “garbage time,” we knew that he was going to play some significant time in this game.

In fact, there was a possibility that he might start. He’s been fighting for a starting position all fall camp, and there were times he was optimistic he might land a spot.

Well he didn’t get to start, but he did play a lot minutes for the defense. And the Spuds beat the Rogers Royals 37-24 in his first varsity game, and so I think it softened his disappointment a bit.

But that game and this week’s gospel -- yes gospel plus football, I promise it’ll come together -- got me to thinking about my own experience as a football player.

When I was a freshman in high school at little ol’ Fertile-Beltrami High School, all I wanted was to get into my first varsity football game. My freshman year was a turning point for me in high school. I was a fairly pudgy kid up through eighth grade, and had had a tough time finding my place in a new school that I had just joined in seventh grade.

I moved with my mom from Crookston, where I had spent my entire life. And now I was in Fertile, a tiny town, where all the kids in my grade had been together nearly all of their lives. … To say that my integration at first was a bit rough is an understatement.

And that is where football came in: In the summer before my freshman year, I hit a growth spurt. I shot up about a half foot and shed all of the pudginess I had known all my life. And my body grew more athletic. So I was about to have a great freshman football season.

But what I really wanted more than anything was to get into a varsity game. I felt like if I got into a game and proved my football skills, that I would finally be invited to the wedding banquet table, as Jesus’s parable so aptly describes.

That if only my prowess on the football field would become known, that I would make it into the coolest groups of kids in school.

And then, late in the season, after much worrying and obsessing, it happened. … I can’t remember the circumstances: I know it was a blowout one way or the other because that was the only way us freshmen ever made it into the game. … But, regardless, I was in a game!

I hustled onto the field, joined the huddle and soon our inexperienced group of junior varsity players realized that we were without a defensive end. … We frantically yelled to the sideline, and the coaches rounded up another young lineman, and sent him scooting to the huddle.

But there was a problem: Of the four linemen they had sent into the game, none of us were a defensive end. … We all kind of looked around a little confused, and in a split second I decided I would play end for the play. After all, I’d lined up there a couple of times in practice, and if I was going to make my impact, this was my opportunity!

So, we broke the huddle, hustled to the line, and I got in my two-point stance across from the other team. … And, now, if you know anything about playing football, the defensive end position is a bit tricky.

First, you’re kind of a lineman, charged with helping to defend against the run.

But, depending upon the offensive play, if a tight end releases from the line and heads to the flat for a pass, or if a running back comes out of the backfield to do the same, the defensive end is responsible for breaking from the line and covering them. … So, then you’re more like a linebacker than just a lineman.

Well, the play started, and at first I did my job to hold the end of the line. I pushed the offensive tackle across from me back into the backfield, just as I should. … But out of the corner of my right eye, I started to see a running back sneaking out of the backfield, going out for a pass.

Forced with an important, split-second decision, and forgetting my duties, I chose to stay and protect the quarterback from running around the end of the line.

And in the seconds after I had made the decision, I could see the football arcing over my head in a perfect spiral and laying very neatly in the outstretched hands of the running back, who hauled it in and bolted down the length of the field for a touchdown.

I was mortified. And to make matters worse, I never got into the game again as a freshman. … I took that memory into the off season, and knew I had another entire year to dwell on it before I could redeem myself.

It was the first time I really ever remember the feeling of being asked by the host of the wedding banquet to give another person my seat.

I had spent so many countless hours imagining how success on the football field was going to change my social stature at school, that I had never thought about what might happen if it backfired.

And the rest of my freshman year remained a tough year of trying to fit in, trying to find my place in a new school, even three years in.

But then my sophomore year came along. And I had grown even more, filled out, thanks to maturation and a dedication to the weight room.

And I got my chance to start on varsity. I played center on the offensive side and defensive tackle, and because our opponents often focused on the more well-known juniors and seniors around me on varsity, I had a banner year.

In fact, I had such a productive year, that at the end-of-the-year football banquet, I was named most valuable player on the defensive side of the ball, and I received all-conference honorable mention. As a sophomore!

My heart soared. … And so did my ego. … And I was just so thrilled.

But, interestingly, you know what happened? … I’m guessing all of you who lived through high school already know: My social stature didn’t change.

The same friends I had before I saw my success on the football field, were my same friends I had after I saw my success on the football field. … Because they did not care what I did as a football player.

And the same cool kid groups that wouldn’t let me in before … still didn’t let me in. Because despite my football success, I didn’t possess other things that would get me into the groups.

I am certain that at some point in your life, you’ve lived through a similar learning experience. … The same experience that Jesus shares with us in this Parable of the Wedding Banquet.

This parable reminds us that it is perfectly natural for us humans to worry about our social stature. … To worry about where we sit at the wedding banquet. … Are we at the head table? A sign of our importance and significance to the family. … Or are we at the back of the room? … Where only the people who received the obligatory invitations sit.

We care about such things, because the world tells us to care about these things. … I don’t know about you, but I don’t know many people in this world who don’t care a bit about their social stature. … In fact, I know of only one, my mother. … But, unfortunately for me, I did not inherit that trait from my mother.

I worry about such things. Even as a pastor, I worry about these things. … As a high school kid, I especially worried about these things. … As the new kid in a small school, I so badly wanted to fit in. … And I thought football was my way in.

But the purpose of Jesus’s parable in today’s gospel is to tell us that it doesn’t matter where we sit at the wedding banquet. … What matters is our relationship in him. … And, if you read the very last paragraph, how we treat others.

I don’t want to trivialize this human need to feel included, to feel a part of a group … some group. … Because the research tells us that feeling like you belong, feeling wanted, is one of the most important indicators of how happy you feel. … The facts don’t lie: Loneliness is deadly. Scientists have demonstrated this over and over.

But our challenge is to figure out how to balance that need for fitting in, while knowing that our true value comes in our relationship with Christ. ... And we demonstrate that relationship through how we treat others.

Thankfully though, in today’s gospel, Jesus tells us the answer to this challenge:

First, always sit at the back of the banquet, so that you don’t have to worry about being humiliated … In other words live a humble life. It’s a lot closer fall to the ground in our most embarrassing moments if you aren’t worried about reaching the lofty positions in life.

And second, instead of utilizing your resources to impress others, give the resources away to those you don’t know, those who have nothing in return to give to you. … Throw that banquet and invite those without friends or without means. … And you’ll find that lifestyle is much more fulfilling.

Is either easy? … No, absolutely not. … But that’s why we have Jesus’s words to offer us encouragment. … And that is the good news for this Sunday. … Amen.