Living in the Margins: A Sermon Among the Chaos
I preached this sermon on Sunday, August 21. The Tuesday before, my dad was admitted to the hospital for a flare up of his ulcerative colitis. I was also hosting my sister-in-law's baby shower that Saturday. It was a hectic, scary, and exciting week and I'm pretty sure I blacked out from the moment I got the call to the end of church on Sunday. Here's the result of that week's work:
Scripture
Mark 10:13-16
13 People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. 14 But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. 15 Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” 16 And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
Message: Living in the Margins
August 21, 2016
“Let the little children come to me,” Jesus says, “do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.”
But who are “these?” How do we “receive the kingdom of God as a little child?”
In Matthew’s gospel, he “suggests that we must become more childlike (18:3),” however, “Mark’s account emphasizes that we are to receive God’s reign in the same way that little children receive God’s blessing—as a gracious gift awaiting our reception (Ottoni Wilhelm, p. 174).”
Children receive gifts differently than most grown-ups and they see the world differently than most grown-ups. This isn’t about being childish, it’s about having that childlike wonder.
The world used to sparkle for me. Anything was possible. I could see knights and werewolves and princesses around every corner. Every day was made of a different color. I sang into my little fisher price microphone like I was on American Idol. I danced my ballet recitals a beat behind everyone else. And I had a blast!
“One has only to spend ten minutes in the woods with a five-year-old to discover anthills and arrowheads, ground-hog holes and snakeskins—all of which go unnoticed or unappreciated by most adults. Perhaps it is this ability to perceive the world around them that prepares children so well to receive the world to come. Christ is eager to share the blessing of God’s reign with these little ones and with each of us as well (Ottoni Wilhelm, p. 175).”
But most of the time, we resist God’s eagerness. We’ve learned to question where a gift is coming from or why we’re being given a gift. We lose some of the sparkle and the magic of confetti. The sparkle dulls a bit, the gift looks suspiciously like a favor to be returned, and we see the confetti for the colored paper it truly is. We are taught to color inside the lines, write inside the margins.
Disenchantment and disillusionment don’t have to sink us, though. They can make us stronger. I think the knowing makes it all that more meaningful, however, when we do choose to believe in something bigger than ourselves. When we’ve seen both the magic as well as the strings that hold up the sky, it means that much more when we believe. We grow in our faith, finally understanding that our imaginary friends may not be real but who’s to say that, when we were younger, we weren’t talking to an angel disguised as a best friend no one else could see?
We grow in our faith because we have something to believe in again. It is called the kingdom of God, after all. It sounds rather magical if you ask me. The kingdom of God is something we can receive only if we dig deep and find the magic again.
Maybe you already know this, but in theatre there’s something called breaking the fourth wall. The fourth wall is the imaginary wall at the front of the stage. The actors are in their own world as the audience watches the play unfold. When you break the fourth wall, however, the actors on stage acknowledge your presence as the audience and the magic shatters.
All of the sudden you’re not deeply involved in the life of the family in front of you, you’re now remembering that you’re sitting in a theatre, watching actors perform for you. When it’s done right, however, you understand that a piece of the theatre magic is gone but you are still deeply connected to the performance. You understand that you are the audience at the same time that you are still deeply invested in the performance as another player even.
I think that every now and then, just maybe, God breaks the fourth wall for us. We catch glimpses of the kingdom all the time if we have our eyes open. And it looks different to everyone. To one person it may be getting a thank you card in the mail for something they did. To another, it might be the hope they find in seeing a cardinal fly past, thinking it might be the sign of a passed loved one checking up on them. For others it might be good news about a new baby on the way.
We must be open to glimpses of the Kingdom here on earth. It’s what makes us like children again. “Children are far more attentive and alert to the world around them than most grown-ups. They are also more willing to recognize and receive God’s gifts (Ottoni Wilhelm, p. 175).”
Knowing we’re in the kingdom is different than truly receiving it, however. We need to also act like we’re in the kingdom of God.
“In the kingdom, value is not placed on greatness (defined in human terms). It is placed on service, humility, welcoming the weak, and protecting the vulnerable (Geddert, p. 233).”
After all, the marginalized are only on the margins because someone put them there.
I’ve never been good at keeping inside my designated margins, though. I used to get notes on my papers in school telling me to leave a bigger margins.
All that area to the left of the page looked like such sad, empty space. If there hadn’t been a line there to keep me in, I would have gone write up to the edge. We draw those lines and dare people to cross them. Because the moment you cross one of those lines, you find yourself in the margin as well.
But kids don’t see those lines. They have to be taught that margins should be one inch or half an inch all the way around. And margins change. The rules change. The correct margin size when I was in school is probably different from what they teach now.
Society’s margins change as well. One year this group is marginalized, the next another. But there’s always a margin. And if we’re inside the “body” of the text, then we do everything we can to stay there, including hiding anything about ourselves that doesn’t quite conform.
But kingdom living is living in the margins.
Kurt Vonnegut wrote, "I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center."
The margins are where the most interesting people live. The margins are where you can be true to yourself. If only there weren’t actually any margins, though, then we could all fill the blank sheet however we wanted to.
The margin is not all doodles and butterflies, though. There’s deep pain in being marginalized for one thing or another. Living in the margins is not about being a hero or a savior or anything like that. It’s simply the place where you receive God’s gift as a child would. It’s where the magic of the kingdom of God glistens and each day is another color, even if the color is sometimes gray or black. Living in the margins is about living like the kingdom of God is here, now.
This passage and the one before it, are not about “God stipulating idyllic models of relationship but [about] God saying, ‘I am here, in my Son, to be in relationship with you. Nothing can separate us any longer (Lewis, workingpreacher.org).’"
It’s not saying that we have to be children and believe a hundred percent that our imaginary friends are real. We just have to be open to that childlike wonder we used to have. We need to cross the lines of society’s margins and live in the kingdom rather than on one side or the other. It’s time to see the world sparkle again.
References
Believers Church Bible Commentary: Mark by Timothy J. Geddert
Preaching the Gospel of Mark by Dawn Ottoni Wilhelm
Scripture
Mark 10:13-16
13 People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. 14 But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. 15 Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” 16 And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
Message: Living in the Margins
August 21, 2016
“Let the little children come to me,” Jesus says, “do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.”
But who are “these?” How do we “receive the kingdom of God as a little child?”
In Matthew’s gospel, he “suggests that we must become more childlike (18:3),” however, “Mark’s account emphasizes that we are to receive God’s reign in the same way that little children receive God’s blessing—as a gracious gift awaiting our reception (Ottoni Wilhelm, p. 174).”
Children receive gifts differently than most grown-ups and they see the world differently than most grown-ups. This isn’t about being childish, it’s about having that childlike wonder.
The world used to sparkle for me. Anything was possible. I could see knights and werewolves and princesses around every corner. Every day was made of a different color. I sang into my little fisher price microphone like I was on American Idol. I danced my ballet recitals a beat behind everyone else. And I had a blast!
“One has only to spend ten minutes in the woods with a five-year-old to discover anthills and arrowheads, ground-hog holes and snakeskins—all of which go unnoticed or unappreciated by most adults. Perhaps it is this ability to perceive the world around them that prepares children so well to receive the world to come. Christ is eager to share the blessing of God’s reign with these little ones and with each of us as well (Ottoni Wilhelm, p. 175).”
But most of the time, we resist God’s eagerness. We’ve learned to question where a gift is coming from or why we’re being given a gift. We lose some of the sparkle and the magic of confetti. The sparkle dulls a bit, the gift looks suspiciously like a favor to be returned, and we see the confetti for the colored paper it truly is. We are taught to color inside the lines, write inside the margins.
Disenchantment and disillusionment don’t have to sink us, though. They can make us stronger. I think the knowing makes it all that more meaningful, however, when we do choose to believe in something bigger than ourselves. When we’ve seen both the magic as well as the strings that hold up the sky, it means that much more when we believe. We grow in our faith, finally understanding that our imaginary friends may not be real but who’s to say that, when we were younger, we weren’t talking to an angel disguised as a best friend no one else could see?
We grow in our faith because we have something to believe in again. It is called the kingdom of God, after all. It sounds rather magical if you ask me. The kingdom of God is something we can receive only if we dig deep and find the magic again.
Maybe you already know this, but in theatre there’s something called breaking the fourth wall. The fourth wall is the imaginary wall at the front of the stage. The actors are in their own world as the audience watches the play unfold. When you break the fourth wall, however, the actors on stage acknowledge your presence as the audience and the magic shatters.
All of the sudden you’re not deeply involved in the life of the family in front of you, you’re now remembering that you’re sitting in a theatre, watching actors perform for you. When it’s done right, however, you understand that a piece of the theatre magic is gone but you are still deeply connected to the performance. You understand that you are the audience at the same time that you are still deeply invested in the performance as another player even.
I think that every now and then, just maybe, God breaks the fourth wall for us. We catch glimpses of the kingdom all the time if we have our eyes open. And it looks different to everyone. To one person it may be getting a thank you card in the mail for something they did. To another, it might be the hope they find in seeing a cardinal fly past, thinking it might be the sign of a passed loved one checking up on them. For others it might be good news about a new baby on the way.
We must be open to glimpses of the Kingdom here on earth. It’s what makes us like children again. “Children are far more attentive and alert to the world around them than most grown-ups. They are also more willing to recognize and receive God’s gifts (Ottoni Wilhelm, p. 175).”
Knowing we’re in the kingdom is different than truly receiving it, however. We need to also act like we’re in the kingdom of God.
“In the kingdom, value is not placed on greatness (defined in human terms). It is placed on service, humility, welcoming the weak, and protecting the vulnerable (Geddert, p. 233).”
After all, the marginalized are only on the margins because someone put them there.
I’ve never been good at keeping inside my designated margins, though. I used to get notes on my papers in school telling me to leave a bigger margins.
All that area to the left of the page looked like such sad, empty space. If there hadn’t been a line there to keep me in, I would have gone write up to the edge. We draw those lines and dare people to cross them. Because the moment you cross one of those lines, you find yourself in the margin as well.
But kids don’t see those lines. They have to be taught that margins should be one inch or half an inch all the way around. And margins change. The rules change. The correct margin size when I was in school is probably different from what they teach now.
Society’s margins change as well. One year this group is marginalized, the next another. But there’s always a margin. And if we’re inside the “body” of the text, then we do everything we can to stay there, including hiding anything about ourselves that doesn’t quite conform.
But kingdom living is living in the margins.
Kurt Vonnegut wrote, "I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center."
The margins are where the most interesting people live. The margins are where you can be true to yourself. If only there weren’t actually any margins, though, then we could all fill the blank sheet however we wanted to.
The margin is not all doodles and butterflies, though. There’s deep pain in being marginalized for one thing or another. Living in the margins is not about being a hero or a savior or anything like that. It’s simply the place where you receive God’s gift as a child would. It’s where the magic of the kingdom of God glistens and each day is another color, even if the color is sometimes gray or black. Living in the margins is about living like the kingdom of God is here, now.
This passage and the one before it, are not about “God stipulating idyllic models of relationship but [about] God saying, ‘I am here, in my Son, to be in relationship with you. Nothing can separate us any longer (Lewis, workingpreacher.org).’"
It’s not saying that we have to be children and believe a hundred percent that our imaginary friends are real. We just have to be open to that childlike wonder we used to have. We need to cross the lines of society’s margins and live in the kingdom rather than on one side or the other. It’s time to see the world sparkle again.
References
Believers Church Bible Commentary: Mark by Timothy J. Geddert
Preaching the Gospel of Mark by Dawn Ottoni Wilhelm
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