For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.

           I would like to spend today and the next two weeks looking at what can be a very delicate issue. Some might call it the issue of church discipline. Some might call it the proper response to an offense. I prefer to call it grace in the midst of conflict. Today we will look at how we graciously respond to an offense. Next week, we will consider how often we should engage in that gracious response—Matthew, chapter eighteen and verses twenty-one through thirty-five. In two weeks, we will look at the wacky math of grace—Matthew, chapter twenty and verses one through sixteen. We are using the lectionary texts.

           We spent the last couple of weeks looking at how we are in the process of transformation. The church is in the process of transformation. But…some of that worldly stuff manages to creep in. Conflict, for example.

           While I was in seminary, I also served a church in the eastern part of Kentucky—small mountain town of Salyersville. I was at school from Monday evening until Friday noon. And then I spent the weekend living in the parsonage of the church I served. I knew it would be a challenge. There was the challenge of just being a pastor. I was young and had not started school and just felt ill equipped for the task. I mean, I arrived and then officiated my first funeral a couple of months later—for a twenty-one year old young man.

           There was also the challenge of being from the north and serving in the mountains of the south. On more than one occasion I was called a Yankee. The first thing the lay leader told me was the church tended not to trust northern preacher boys. They thought we were all a bunch of stuffed shirts. He told me they liked to shout once in a while and say, “Amen.” Quite the welcome. I swallowed hard. But, you know, I had three great years there. The church grew some. I made quite a few friends.

           There was another challenge, though. See, that church had not always been served by students. It was a thriving community of faith at one time. Then they went through a terrible split. Just awful. In one week—one week—twenty-three families withdrew their membership.

           I am not going to go into all the details of what happened. You wouldn’t believe most of it. I didn’t believe most of it. For it had to do with a beautiful organ that had been purchased for the church—and who could and who could not play it. Enough said.

           The major players were Mrs. Ramey, Mrs. Cooper, and Ollie J. Arnett. They long ago granted me permission to use their names.

           Mrs. Ramey and Mrs. Cooper were sisters who were also widows. They lived together in a beautiful home right next to the parsonage. It did not take long for them to start liking me. And I was rather fond of them. You see, every Sunday, after worship, I would stop in at their place. They always had the coffee on. So we would drink coffee and chat. I also read their copy of the Sunday edition of the Lexington Leader. They often had the television tuned into the Old Time Gospel Hour with Jerry Falwell. That had become their church. They were among those who had left. Mrs. Ramey, in fact, was the one who had purchased that beautiful organ—which had become the issue in the church fight. The two of them were never going to step foot in that Methodist Church again. Never. Ever. They made sure I knew that. Reminded me of it often. They might tolerate me. But never that church.

           The reason was Ollie J. Arnett. Ollie J. was one of the leaders in the church. A great guy. And when the conflict erupted, they found themselves on quite opposite sides of the issue from Mr. Arnett. So when Mrs. Ramey and Mrs. Cooper told me they were never going to that church again, they usually added another clause to the statement. “We are never stepping foot in that church again as long as that man is there.” That man. Rarely did they refer to him by name. And they almost spit the words out.

           I thought I could have left all that alone. After all, I was temporary. I would be graduating and heading back to Minnesota some day. But these were fine Christian people. They all loved the Lord. They were going to be united around the throne in glory one day. Why not get a head start on that. So one day I told Mrs. Ramey and Mrs. Cooper that before I left, I hoped to get them into church one Sunday. Maybe get the three of them together. Good thing they already liked me before I offered them that vision. Mrs. Ramey said, “Never.” Mrs. Cooper added, “Ever.” A litany—never, ever.

           We read from the eighteenth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus gave instruction as to what we could do if we believe there is an offense—if another offends us or sins against us. We are quite familiar with these words. But I think they are so often taken out of context—and in many instances misused.

           This eighteenth chapter begins with a lesson in humility. The disciples asked Jesus a question about the greatest in heaven. Jesus responded by putting a child in their midst. Jesus then said we must change and become like little children. One of many paradoxes in the Christian faith. Greatness is found in humility.

           Jesus went on to say that no person should be the cause of another’s sin.

           Then came the parable of the lost sheep—a parable that is also found in a slightly different form in Luke’s Gospel. Jesus mentioned a man with one hundred sheep. One wandered off. Notice what the owner of the sheep did. Well, first notice what he did not do. He did not say to himself that he lost one sheep, but he still had ninety-nine left. He would just report the one sheep as a business loss come tax time. No! He left the other ninety-nine. And he did not leave them safely in a sheepfold. He left them on the hills. He risked the other ninety-nine in order to go find the one that was lost. Wonder what the ninety-nine thought about that. He found the lost one. And the man was more happy about that one sheep than he was about the ninety-nine well-behaved sheep who had the common sense not to get lost. The man was happy because a lost sheep had been restored to the flock. He did not scold that one sheep. He rejoiced over the restoration. Jesus concluded the parable by saying that our Father in heaven is not willing for any of his humble, little ones to be lost.

           This is the context for Jesus’ teaching on what to do about offenses. And this context is very important. These lessons on humility and not being the cause of another’s sin and rejoicing over the restoration of the lost lead right into what Jesus said next. If another member of the body sins against you, go and point out that fault, just between the two of you. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. I like how the Living Bible paraphrases that. It says, “If your brother listens to you, then you have won back your brother.”

           Many, many times—too many to count—I have had people tell me how they have been sinned against or offended or hurt by another. I would guess most of us have had that experience. And my response has always been the same. “Have you talked with that person—privately?” It seems people tend to talk to everyone but that person.

           Jesus said that if we have suffered what we believe to be an offense, we go to the person. And we have conversation—just the two of us. Our purpose in going to that person is not to wag a finger in their face, or thump one in their chest. We don’t go saying, “Shame on you.” We do not go to score points or to sit in judgment. In fact—remember the context—we go in all humility. We may think it is difficult to receive a rebuke. Let me tell you, it is even more difficult to administer one in loving humility.

           If the private conversation does not work, only then do we enlist others in the process. But if two people at odds would just sit down and talk…well, it usually works out. But for that to happen—and this is very crucial—for that to happen, the attitude must be one of humility, and the goal must be restoration. Let me repeat that. The attitude must be humility, and the goal must be restoration.

           See, this text has been too often viewed as a three step procedure for straightening a person out. Or a three step procedure for ridding a church of offensive people. And that is not it at all. It is a process of restoration. If our attitude in going to our brother or sister is one of humility, then we are not going there to get them back on the straight and narrow. We are attempting to win back—to restore—a relationship. And we will do whatever it takes. The shepherd left the ninety-nine sheep on the hillside to restore one. Next week, we will look at how long and how often we work at restoration.

           But restoring relationships—that’s what Jesus is all about. He came to restore our relationship with God. If you or I had been the only ones at odds with God, Jesus would have come looking. And Jesus did what it took. He humbled himself in order to bring us back into right relationship with God.

           For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.