“WISDOM BEHIND BARS: SHINING STARS” Philippians 2: 14-30 A sermon preached at First Presbyterian Church by Carter Lester on October 5, 2014

John Green’s runaway best-selling novel, The Fault in our Stars, which has been adapted into super successful movie, may rightly be called young adult fiction and another story of teen romance. But you would be wrong if that is all you call it. In Green’s hands, who by the way once served as a hospital chaplain, the two main characters, Hazel and

Gus, wrestle with some profound questions as they both deal with cancer. And this is one young adult fiction book where the adults are not complete idiots. Indeed, Hazel, the narrator, has a sweet relationship with her parents.

In one scene, Hazel describes sitting with her dad on the couch watching television.

“I was kinda starting to fall asleep, but I didn’t want to go to bed,” Hazel says. “And then

Dad said, ‘You know what I believe? I remember in college I was taking this math class, this really great math class taught by this tiny old woman. She was talking about fast

Fourier transforms and she stopped midsentence and said, ‘Sometimes it seems the universe wants to be noticed.’ That’s what I believe. I believe the universe wants to be noticed.”1

The universe does seem to want to be noticed. Whether it is the changing colors of

Fall foliage, or the sight at the end of the day of migrating geese that cross the sky; the elegance of math for those who understand it, or the wonders of the human body for those who study it, or the marvels of the stars stretched across the night sky, it is hard not to agree with Hazel’s dad. As the poet, William Henry Davies put it, “A poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.” (William Henry Davies, “Leisure”). 2

God’s creation does seem to want to be noticed. No wonder that people enjoy the

Faith and Nature outings. No wonder we feel closer to God in nature. The beauty and wonders of creation should be a part of our theology and faith.

But they are not enough by themselves. And a theology that only considers the beauty of creation will always be an incomplete theology. Because we hunger deep down for something else too, for something more than a universe that wants to be noticed. As

Hazel later reflects The Fault in Our Stars, “I thought of my dad telling me that the universe wants to be noticed. But what we want is to be noticed by the universe, to have the universe [care] what happens to us – not the collective idea of sentient life but each of us, as individuals.”2

How true and wise Hazel’s words are. It is not enough for us to say that God has done wondrous things. Deep down, we also have this hunger and hope that God notices us, knows us, and loves us, not as generic human beings, but as the specific people we are, with all of our traits and even our quirks.

That is why for me any theological discussion of God that does not include Jesus

Christ is impoverished. Because what we see in Christ is that God does indeed notice us.

We see in Christ how God has taken the initiative to come into this world as a human being so that we might better see and understand God. And so that we might better see and understand that God does not just notice us; God also loves us.

As we proclaim so often in our Assurance of Pardon, in Jesus Christ, God came into the world not to condemn the world but to save it. He is the good shepherd who is not content to have most of the flock safe in the fold. Instead, he searches out for each individual lost sheep. And he does not just search us out. He lays down his life for us all.

Even when we are dumb, disobedient, or lost sheep. We matter to the One who has 3 created this universe and all that is. As Paul writes to the Philippians, we are nothing less than “shining stars.”

It is fashionable these days in some youth leagues and classrooms to give trophies or “stars” to all. And it is also fashionable to criticize that practice because after all, in the world in which we live, effort matters, talent matters, practice matters, and results matter.

If every child is recognized and rewarded, regardless of their effort or practice, or their talents or results, how will they be prepared for the rest of their lives? You certainly can be sure that when they grow up there will not be trophies and stars for everyone.

Whatever we think about this issue, we know this to be true: we all need someone in our lives who will love us whether we are the best player on the team or the one who strikes out with the bases loaded. We all need to be noticed and cared for whether we get straight “A’s” or struggle to get a “C.” It is a precarious way to live a life to think that our ability to get noticed and loved is dependent on our getting good results and being successful. And it can be terrifying if we think that to fail or lose our way means that we have fallen out of God’s notice and love.

We all need a love that will not disappear when we falter or when we mess up or fail. Hopefully we will experience that kind of love from our parents, or from a spouse, sibling, or friend. But however incompletely we receive it in our human relationships, we can count on receiving such acceptance and love in full measure from God. Hazel’s hunger to be noticed by the universe is the universal human hunger for acceptance and grace. In Jesus Christ, we see the embodiment of such grace. As Paul writes in another letter, “God showed his great love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) 4

Paul reminds the Philippians that they are stars in God’s eyes. But Paul is also saying something else: our stars are not a prize that we have earned to put on our chest or report card. No, Paul says we are stars that are called to shine in the darkness.

We are not noticed and loved by God just so we can feel better about ourselves.

We are noticed and loved by God for the sake of the world. Grace received is to be grace shown and shared. This sense of grace should not just make a difference in how we feel about ourselves. It should also make a difference in how we treat others, both those within the church and those outside of the church.

As one commentator notes, “If we believe God’s affection and favor must be earned by good works and perennial niceness, it is inevitable that we will try to outdo one another in garnering God’s approval. When we think we have earned it, we gloat. When we think we are being shortchanged, we [murmur and complain]. It is only when we begin to understand God’s grace – that we already have God’s unconditional love and undivided attention because of God’s immense love – that we begin to experience God’s peace,” – and there is no reason to gloat or murmur or complain.

“And when we finally begin to realize that God’s unconditional love is offered with equal affection to everyone who desires it, we will be at peace with each other and with

God. That is when the Good news begins to shine”3 like stars in the sky.

To be sure, this is not easy. It is easier to talk about grace than to live it out. Old habits like murmuring and complaining do not go away easily. It is not always easy to receive grace – or give it. It takes work sometimes to love some folks.

But nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Being a Christian, being the kind of disciple that Jesus wants us to be, takes time, energy, and courage. That may be why Paul talks about “working” three separate times here in chapter 2. But we do not undertake that labor 5 so that we can gain God’s love. We work so that we can better show that love. And we do not do this labor on our own. Instead, we surrender and submit to God who is already at work in us.

Receiving grace. Showing grace, Sharing grace. It can make all of the difference in the world.

When Mahatma Gandhi was a young man practicing law in South Africa, he was attracted to Jesus and considered becoming a Christian. But one day when he tried to enter a church, his entrance was blocked by a white elder who threatened him if he did not leave. Years later, the missionary Earl Stanley Jones asked Gandhi why he rejected

Christ. Gandhi replied, “O, I don’t reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It’s just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

In contrast, when Desmond Tutu was once asked why he became a Christian and joined the predominantly white Anglican church, he talked first about an white Anglican priest he met as a young boy who treated his mother and himself with great courtesy and dignity, in stark contrast to the treatment that they received from other whites in South

Africa at that time.

Receiving God’s grace. Showing God’s grace. Sharing God’s grace. It is a matter of letting others know that God notices them – and loves them. It is a matter of shining like stars in an often dark world. 1 John Green, The Fault in our Stars (New York: Penguin, 2012), 223. 2 Green, 281. 3 Elizabeth Steele Halstead, Paul detterman, Joyce Borger, and John D. Witvliet, eds. Dwelling with Philippians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmanns, 2010), 124-25.