We Serve. Matthew 25:31-40. 05/12/24.

We Serve

Matthew 25:31-40

Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins

May 12, 2024

 

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’  Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?  And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ 

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Nicholas Winton was born to a well-to-do English family. As a young man, he worked as a banker, the family business, and practiced fencing. He was quite an accomplished fencer and had been selected to represent Britain in the next Olympics. Those Olympics never happened because WWII broke out. Shortly before Christmas in 1938, Winton was planning a ski trip to Switzerland, but he canceled his vacation when a friend called and asked him for help. His friend was working with Jewish refugees in Czechoslovakia. When Winton arrived, he found the refugees, men, women, and children, living in horrific conditions. With the imminent prospect of war, he saw little recourse for the thousands of individuals in the camps. Most countries denied access to Jewish immigrants—the lone exception to this was Winton’s home country—Britain. Britain would accept unaccompanied Jewish minors up to the age of 17 if a host family was prepared to accept them. The effort targeted children in Germany and Austria. 10,000 children were rescued before the war began. There was no organization, however, to save the Jewish children in Czechoslovakia, so Winton decided to form one. He created a network to transport and house the children from Czechoslovakia. An article about him in the New York Times said that his effort “involved dangers, bribes, forgery, secret contact with the Gestapo, nine railroad trains, an avalanche of paperwork and a lot of money. Nazi agents started following him.” He enlisted hundreds of families to help; he solicited donations. But bribing Gestapo and railroad workers turned out to be an expensive endeavor. The donations fell short. Winton made up the difference himself. The end result of Nicholas Winton’s endeavor: 669 children were saved as the vast majority of their families perished at Auschwitz or other camps.

Based on this one story alone, if you were to judge Nicholas Winton on his care for what Jesus called “the least of these,” how would he rate? On a scale from 1 to 10, with one being a miserable sloth who never helped anybody and 10 being saint level, what number would you assign to Mr. Winton?

 

Today we continue our series entitled “Chapel’s So Bright, Gotta Wear Shades.” We’re taking a deep dive into our ten core commitments as a church—the top ten ways we live out what we believe God is calling us to be and do together as a church family. What is it that we believe God is calling us to be and do together? I’m glad you asked! We summed it up in a statement we’re calling our “Missional Aspiration”:

 

Chapel by the Sea aspires to be a beacon of God’s love,

inviting people into a vibrant life with Christ.

Our ten core commitments are how we live into our missional aspiration, and they are summed up with ten action verbs: welcome, gather, pray, give, serve, forgive, sing, grow, respect, and love.

 

So far in this series, we’ve looked at: welcome, gather, pray, give, and sing (which, I realize drives some of you crazy that we’re not doing these in order!)

 

Today I invite you to think about the word, “serve.” Our core commitment summed up by the word “serve” is this:

 

We serve Christ by serving others.

 

There is no better scripture text, in my opinion, to talk about serving others than the scripture lesson we read together a moment ago from Matthew 25 in which Jesus teaches his disciples about the kingdom of heaven. Jesus suggests that in the last judgment, the measuring stick will be about how well his followers tend to the least of these: “for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” This retrospective Jesus provides helps us assess our lifestyle—our spiritual health. To recalibrate, if necessary, to be more aligned with the purposes of Jesus.

 

With that in mind, how do you measure up as an individual? On a scale from 1 to 10, with one being a miserable sloth who never helped anybody and 10 being saint level, what number would you assign to yourself? What number would you assign to us as a congregation?

 

This teaching from Jesus might make us a bit uncomfortable. Theologians have never found consensus on who Jesus is referencing when he says, “the nations will be gathered.” Some suggest that means all people everywhere. Others say Jesus is talking specifically about Gentiles and how they treat Jesus’ followers. It’s also an uncomfortable text related to the nature of salvation. Lots of Christians believe salvation is by grace alone. Evangelical Christians believe salvation is accomplished by a confession of faith in Jesus as Lord. This text doesn’t support either of these positions. This Matthew 25 text seems to support a works-based salvation. Let’s leave these debates to the theologians for now.

 

Today I want to focus on how this teaching can make us uncomfortable because of what it seems to require of us.

 

How many of us have never missed an opportunity to care for the “least of these?” How many of us have done as much as we possibly can to alleviate poverty, or homelessness, or malaria? Our (my) self-talk goes something like this: “How can I give to every worthy cause?” “How do I judge which cause is even worthy?” Most of us find our own way in dealing with this tension—we become comfortable with the discomfort. This text makes us uncomfortable because we want to do enough without being inconvenienced. We don’t want to sacrifice. We like to be. . .well. . .comfortable.

 

Back to Nicholas Winton. For 50 years Mr. Winton never mentioned his heroic efforts to save children from Czechoslovakia. He married in 1948. He had three children. None of them ever knew. But one day in 1988 his wife discovered a long-hidden scrapbook with names, pictures, letters from families, and travel documents. Nicholas briefly described the nature of the materials to his wife, but he largely dismissed it, suggesting she throw the scrapbook away. Winton didn’t think it would be of interest to anyone so many years later. He reluctantly allowed his wife to send the scrapbook to a Holocaust historian. There was a newspaper article. The BBC picked up the story. Pretty soon the story went international. Many accolades followed. In an interview with the New York Times in 2001, Winton was asked why he did what he did to save all of those children. He replied, “One saw the problem there, that a lot of these children were in danger, and you had to get them to what was called a safe haven, and there was no organization to do that. Why did I do it? Why do people do different things? Some people revel in taking risks, and some go through life taking no risks at all.”

 

No doubt, this rescue effort made Nicholas Winton uncomfortable. He risked his life, but perhaps more difficult than that, he risked his comfort. Let me explain.

 

Jesus’ words make us uncomfortable, because of the risk involved: “for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Following Jesus on the Way is risky business. For me, I find it much easier to tell Jesus that I would give up my life for him than to give up my comfort for him.

 

Too much of the time, I’d rather die for Jesus than truly live for him.

It’s about giving up our self-centered, ego-driven ways. It’s about seeing the face of God in every stranger we meet. This text reminds us that God is not only transcendent but immanent. God is not only above us, beyond us; God is among us, within us. Jesus is walking around incognito, in each person we meet, in the “least of these.” We never know how one simple kindness—one simple act of service—to one of the “least of these” may change the world.

 

Among the 669 children Nicholas Winton saved, one of them grew up to be a successful filmmaker, one became a member of Parliament, one a great mathematician, one became a famous Canadian broadcaster, one founded the Israeli Air Force, one became a renowned author, one a geneticist who made an important genetic discovery. How could Winton have known how his risk and his discomfort would change the world?

 

The year Winton’s work became known, he was asked to attend a British talk show called “That’s Life.” He was nearing 80 years old. His story was told as he sat in the front row of the audience listening. After telling the entire story, the host of the program asked “Is there anyone in our audience tonight who owes their life to Nicholas Winton?” To Mr. Winton’s surprise, dozens of people stood up around him. He had no clue that these were the children he had saved so many years ago. They were now disguised as grown men and women: filmmakers, politicians, mathematicians, military leaders, authors, geneticists, mothers, fathers, and grandparents. Surrounding him were “Winton’s Children” incognito.

 

Incognito. Just like Jesus disguised as the “least of these.”

 

The challenge for us today is to allow this text, this difficult instruction from Jesus, to be a wellness check for our spiritual lives. At the end of our days, we intuitively know that the greatness of our lives won’t be measured by the size of our bank account or the type of car we drive or even our cholesterol score. But did we love well? Did we risk discomfort to care for others? Did our lives make a difference to the least of these?

 

And know this: a life of service isn’t just about the “least of these.” A life of service starts at home. We serve Christ by serving others in the public square as well as in the private corners of our lives—serving the people in our homes, in our neighborhoods—the people we see every single day.

 

And finally, our commitment to service means that we serve one another within our faith community. The Apostle Peter wrote about the importance of people of faith serving one another:

 

Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God,

serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received.

—1 Peter 4:10

 

Because we have different gifts, a life of service will look different for each of us. But one thing is clear, whatever our gifts may be, we are called to use them in service to one another.

Chapel by the Sea, I am so proud to be your pastor! You’re a people living out lives of service around Pinellas County and even around the world! My message today is not to urge you to begin leading a life of service . . . no way! You’re already serving Christ through serving others in so many beautiful ways!

 

Today I simply want to say, “Well done, thy good and faithful servant(s)!” And to ask you to consider what more God might be calling you to do.

 

So . . . what more might God be calling you to do?

 

In the words of the beautiful hymn we’re about to sing, God asks a question repeatedly: “Whom shall I send?”

 

May each of us respond truthfully by saying, like Isaiah did, “Here am I Lord, send me.”

 

Ashley Tanz