When I was a teenager in my church’s youth group, I learned a lot of valuable life lessons. At that time in my life I wanted to know how to be noticed in group settings, mainly in youth group situations.  I still recall hearing advice from a senior in the youth group when I was but a naïve 13-year-old that would change my whole perspective.  He sounded like Al Pacino in Scarface when he said, “Dan, first you get the jambox, then you get to pick the music, then you get the attention, then you get the power.”  That opened up a whole new set of tough lessons to learn, because I frequently seized the youth group’s jambox when we were on retreats; but my music selections were often disliked by my peers.  I would put in cassette tapes (and for those of you under the age of 25 a cassette tape is a plastic, rectangular contraption that fits into what’s called a tape deck to play music), and my choices ranged from the Beastie Boys, Licensed to Ill to the Top Gun soundtrack.  Others in the group would put in the Cure, INXS or Van Halen.  And our youth minister would make us listen to Billy Joel, but what we all agreed on was the Violent Femmes.  All of us loved singing along with the Violent Femmes, because for some reason we found common ground in their acoustic, three-piece, punk folk sound.  Still, in those moments when I would be proud of my music, my tapes, it stung pretty badly to press play on the jambox and hear the group go, “Aw, come on!  Not this stuff!  Put on something good!”  I can look back at those coming of age moments and smile now, but at the time, when I felt the disapproval of my peers in the youth group, it burned.

Maybe that’s why when the Violent Femmes came out with a new CD in 1991 (not a tape this time) I related to one of their songs called More Money Tonight.  It was a song about someone being misunderstood, picked on and made fun of in his school days, but in his adult life, he becomes a famous rock star and thereby shows ‘em all.  It’s a rallying song for anyone who’s ever been burned in their life, and the chorus says: “I’ll make more money tonight than you ever dreamed of.  You thought I was strange, well, just look at me now. If you are lucky I’ll play in your city and you can come see me if you’ve got the money.”

In retrospect it’s certainly a juvenile message, but can you relate to being burned and wanting to show ‘em all?  Can you relate to being misunderstood by a group—any group—and then being made fun of and dismissed based on their ignorance?  Can you relate to the prophet Elijah in today’s story out of 1 Kings when he’s been burned by people all around him, and he’s cast himself out into wilderness and despair, and he says, “God, I can’t take this anymore.  I may as well just die.”

We’ve all been burned.  We all have had our souls exhausted to some degree, and it’s part of the journey that led us here to this sanctuary today.  Now, I can laugh about feeling burned over bad music selections on youth trips in my adolescence, but it’s not so easy for us to laugh about other recollections.  It’s hard to be at peace when we’re burned by the people we love, by the people we believe love us, by our colleagues and people we work with, by our family.  And wounds can fester in our guts when we’re burned by the hatred, intolerance and overall misunderstanding of people who are led to their perspectives based on political leaders, celebrities, religious leaders and other famous figures that we might never even share a room with.

Jerry Fallwell walks into Billy Graham’s kitchen.  This happened last summer, after Graham had preached one last great crusade in New York.  And in his message he’d focused primarily on the Gospel and the love of God, which might have been the reason for Fallwell calling on Brother Billy in his own home.  So, there they were, Fallwell and Graham, and Fallwell chose to discuss the difference between an evangelist and a pastor.  He said to Graham, “There is no question that your role and mine are opposites.  You are an evangelist; I am a pastor.  I have prophetic responsibilities that you do not have.  I have spent the last 30 years forming the religious right.  I write a letter every week and send a newspaper every month to 200,000 pastors who are broadly called evangelicals, bringing them up to date on what is happening in Washington, in the state capitals, in the culture and what we need to do about it.  And of course I’m criticized for it, but I have long been at peace with what I do.”

Billy Graham is now 87, and he isn’t at peace with everything he’s done.  Millions of people can say that Billy Graham touched their lives in positive ways through Christ, but millions of others can say that Billy Graham burned them with that same Christian language.  And Brother Billy knows that.  During the Nixon administration, the president and Graham were caught on tape making anti-Semitic remarks.  Graham feels so terrible about saying those things that he says, “If it weren’t caught on tape, I probably wouldn’t believe that I said it.”  Graham since apologized to leaders in the Jewish community.  He even said he’d get on his knees to beg their forgiveness.

Still, Billy Graham is sure and certain of his faith in Jesus as the way to salvation.  But he was asked recently whether he believes heaven will be closed to good Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus or secular people.  This was his response: “Those are decisions only the Lord will make.  It would be foolish for me to speculate on who will be there and who won’t.  I don’t want to speculate about all that.  I believe the love of God is absolute.  God said he gave his son for the whole world, and I think God loves everybody regardless of what label they have.”

It sounds to me like Billy Graham is more of a pastor than an evangelist after all, at least by Jerry Fallwell’s standards.  In his twilight years, Graham is confronting culture, but he’s not assuming that he has all the answers.  He’s got direction, but he doesn’t have directions.  Maybe he’d make a better pastor than an evangelist, but who am I to say?

That’s the thing: Jerry Fallwell might be a pastor, but he’s not my pastor.  Yes, part of a pastor’s role is that they are to confront culture and make those whom they serve aware of the spiritual realities of the world.  That’s the prophetic component of the pastorate.  But the basic definition of a pastor is that he or she is a minister.  A pastor is a minister.  And, sisters and brothers, do you know what you are?  You are ministers.  We are ministers; ministers to and for each other.  In our different ways, we are all ministers.

“Well, preacher, I don’t think I’m up for that!  Being a minister is a pretty big deal!  Why don’t you just be a good preacher and minister to me?”  Well, I would, but that’s just not how it’s done.  Christ is the head of the church and we are the body.  If you want to be told how to live, then there’s an empty pew waiting for you at Pastor Jerry’s church.  You won’t find directions here, only direction; because here, and at any church that seeks to follow Christ, we accept one another, serve one another and love one another.  We are ministers to and for each other.

Our denomination, the United Church of Christ, proclaims the Priesthood of the Believers, which maintains that no one person—no one priest—can tell someone what or how to believe.  In that same spirit, we are priests to each other in that we serve one another as ministers, which is the basic definition of a priest.

In this house, we speak truthfully to each other, because we’re all members of one body.  Here we don’t go to bed angry.  Here we do useful things with our hands, and we seek justice and new ways we can share with those in need.  Constructive language comes out of this house that seeks to build people up, not burn them.  And here we forgive others.  Why?  Because Jesus Christ doesn’t lie to us, and Jesus Christ loves every one of us.  Jesus Christ never remains angry with us.  Jesus Christ works miracles with his hands, and the Holy Spirit is upon him to bring good news to the poor.  Jesus Christ speaks constructively about humanity.  And because even when we don’t have all the right answers, and even when we do things that go against God’s life-giving ways, Jesus Christ turns to heaven from his own wilderness and despair and he says, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do?”

It’s not easy to be a minister, but that’s what we’re called to be.  And in this very moment, our call is to prepare for how we can minister best to one another, to our community and to those who would come and share this house with us; this house of extravagant welcome where there is a place for everyone.

There are people out there who need us ministers.  But maybe we need those folks—those ministers—more than they need us.  Our calling is to prepare for that faithful encounter to happen between God’s children all the time at Friends Congregational Church, as well as in our individual lives.

Romans 15:7 reads, “Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.”  Colossians 3:13 reads, “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”  See, being a minister isn’t that hard.  It doesn’t take a rulebook where we constantly try to do everything the way Christ did it.  We’re not even supposed to read today’s passage out of Ephesians like it’s a set of directions.  We’re supposed to conform to Christ, to be like Christ, so that the Word of God, as we find in the Ephesians passage, is our direction for eternity, not just our directions for today.  Do you hear that Good News?

When I read Scripture I’m often reminded of why our church is such a unique and wonderful place to seek God.  And today’s story about the prophet Elijah was a pretty literal reminder.  When Elijah’s at the end of his rope out in the desert, praying to God for his life to be taken because he’s so miserable, he falls asleep, and what does he wake up to?  Cake.  He wakes up to a cake that angels have baked for him on hot coals to give him food for his journey.  It wasn’t over yet for Elijah, because there was cake.

We have cake, too.  We celebrate the baptism of our new little minister, Elizabeth, with cake.  We celebrate our birthdays at the church with cake.  And isn’t it good to know that after you pray to be spared from the preacher going on and on today that there’s going to be cake?  Cake is so important.

At the church where I served before, there was a pastor who was nearly forty.  He had been dating a woman, and they decided that they wanted to be married.  The question came up among some of the men of the congregation, "What are we going to do about this guy’s bachelor party?"  They got to talking and the day came closer for the bachelor party and the men were all huddled around after the worship service.  Up walked the pastor's fiancé.  "Here she comes, guys.  Be cool."  She makes a place for herself in their circle, looks up at all of them with her arms crossed and says, "Gentlemen, what do you intend to do at my husband-to-be's bachelor party?"  They said, "We were thinking that we might just go out to dinner and maybe watch a movie and catch up and tell some stories."  Then her hands moved from being crossed to being placed on her hips, and she said, "Guys, he's a pastor.  This kind of thing never happens to him.  Why don't you at least play a game of poker together, smoke some cigars, scratch yourselves.  For all I care, have a girl jump out of a cake."  One of the men said, "There's gonna be cake?!"

Elijah was out in the desert because he got burned.  The story that led him out there is a long one, but basically this sums it up: Ahab and Jezebel were out to get him.  They were out to tear him down.  And that’s something that Billy Graham is acknowledging more and more in his twilight years.  He knows that most of the pain in the world, and all of the moments when we’re burned happen because we do it to each other.  We cast our sisters and brothers out into deserts every day where they turn to the sky and say, “I can’t go on, so I’m just going to drift to sleep and hope that that Lord will take me.”  And Billy Graham knows that he’s among the guilty party that’s done some of the burning, but he also knows that God loves everyone, and that we’re supposed to love one another.

The most important message about the Elijah story today isn’t the food that Elijah woke up to.  It’s about who prepared it.  When he was hopeless, when he was burned to the point of giving up, Elijah woke up to a cake of bread on hot coals that had been prepared for him by angels of God.  And in our world, in our community, where there are deserts of despair all around us, and where the voices of God’s children cry out, “I have had enough, Lord,” maybe we’re the ones who are called to bake the cake.  The ravages of intolerance, hatred and overall misunderstanding have burned the world, and like Elijah, the world needs hope.  So, instead of smacking the world in the face with the directions we think are right, our calling is to invite the world to wake up to the warmth of a cake that we prepare by our own hands; hands of acceptance, forgiveness and love; the hands of Christ.

Tony Campolo, who is a renowned evangelist, was in Honolulu for a conference, and he was jetlagged and couldn’t sleep at 3 am.  He stumbles out to an all-night diner that he finds, and pulls up to a table.  There is a guy behind the counter flipping the hash.  He has a cup of coffee and a donut.  Two women come in and it's obvious what their profession is.  He hears the two prostitutes talking to each other.  One says, "My birthday's tomorrow.  I'm turning 26."  The other one says, "So?"  The first woman says, "My parents live out in California and I don't really communicate with them anymore.  I thought that I should tell someone."  Her friend said, "Well, now you told me."  Then they left.  Tony asked the man behind the counter if he knew the girl.

 "Yeah, her name's Gloria."

 Tony said, "We should have a birthday party for her.  Do they usually come in here every night?" 

"Yeah, they usually come in here the same time every night." 

"Do me a favor.  I want you to round up all of her friends.  Can you do that?"

 "Yeah, I can do that." 

"Bring them here.  I'll take care of the decorations and the cake.  You take care of the food."

The next night rolls around.  The greasy spoon is decorated and Tony Compolo comes in there with a birthday cake.  He recalls, "There I was, a bald, short evangelist in a room full of fifty prostitutes, holding a birthday cake."  It said, "Happy Birthday, Gloria."  When Gloria came in at 3 am, everyone yelled, "Happy Birthday, Gloria!"  She was taken aback.  She walks up to the table, and Tony hands her a knife and says, "Okay, cut your cake."  She says, "Sir, respectfully, I don't know who you are and I appreciate everything that you've done for me but I've never had a birthday party or a cake.  So, if you don't mind, I'd rather just take this and go home.  Thank you."  So she did.  There was Tony Compolo with no cake and fifty prostitutes.  He said, "I did what I thought was appropriate."  He asked everyone to pray, and they did, and that broke up the party.  The guy behind the counter said, "What denomination do you belong to?"  Before Tony said what it was, he said, "I belong to a church that celebrates the birthday of a prostitute."  The guy behind the counter said, "Yeah, I belong to that church, too."

As Christ served us let us go and serve others.  There’s going to be cake.  Amen.