None of the lectionary passages really do fit Father’s Day, in my opinion, which is fine, so I went off-script and picked the passage you just heard, where Jesus says to his disciples, and says to us, “You are the salt of the earth. This is what you are. You are the light of the world. This is what we are.” And I was going to say this during our time of prayer. I’m going to say it now. I’m grateful to Merle for opening the door, and I’m going to walk through it. In the midst of this message of being the salt of the earth and being the light of the world, you and I are called to apply that to military parades. How do we view these things as salt of the earth? How do we view these things as light of the world? In my city where I live, and in the city where you live, we also either participate or look at protests about things like military parades. So, there’s that. As a preacher I don’t believe I’m called to tell you what to do, but as a preacher I believe I am called to say we need to look at these things with eyes of the salt of the earth, with eyes of the light of the world. Is it true and is it possible that politicians in Minnesota were shot and murdered because of their particular political party? Is that true? So, this Father’s Day sermon comes in a context that is challenging. Is it possible that the message of salt of the earth and light of the world has never been more needed?

Present and favorable. Oh, by the way, I brought a lot of props with me this morning. I discovered these on the Internet when my mother-in-law passed away, not too long ago now. I was searching for a metaphor, and I came up with salt of the earth. If Joanne Clemmer was anything at all she was the salt of the earth, and I know you know salt-of-the-earth people too. Salt of the earth is a hard thing to define, but we know it when we see it. Supreme Court justices have used that metaphor to describe other things; I’m using it to describe salt of the earth. It’s kind of hard to define, but you know it when you see it. You know it when you see it in another person. You know it when you feel it in yourself. So, I brought my Himalayan salt rock that I ordered on the Internet. I gave them to our family members in celebration of my mother-in-law’s life.

Present and favorable. That’s my definition of a salt-of-the-earth person. Salt-of-the-earth people are present in our lives. And by the way, I hear this wonderful phrase and that’s old language, “present and favorable.” I’ve stolen that from an old Presbyterian wedding prayer. In the midst of the wedding ceremony in this old Presbyterian order of service, in one of the prayers the minister is supposed to pray and ask the Holy Spirit to be, quote, “present and favorable unto this couple.” I like that phrase. I think salt-of-the-earth people are present. They’re either with us in the room or they’re with us in spirit and they’re favorable. Favorable includes being encouraging and loving, and favorable is also telling us, in grace and in love, when we’re dead wrong. This is what salt-of-the-earth people do. Present and favorable. So, to honor the good fathers and to honor God, and to honor our calling to be present and favorable unto this world, I share with you now three brief stories about dad, two of them about my dad and one of them about me.

Number one. I was playing Little League baseball as a kid at Saam Field on the fairgrounds in Union County in Marysville. Of course it’s long gone. Right? There’re houses there now, of course. I was playing Little League baseball, and I was playing center field, and I could still see my dad. He loved to smoke his pipe. You barely saw the pipe out of his mouth, unless he was working. And by the way, he had open heart surgery twice in his life, and after the first time he quit his pipe cold turkey, never smoked it again. He told me once, “I miss my pipe. It’s the first thing I think about when I get up in the morning. But I’m not going back.” So, my dad was leaning over the center field fence, puffing on his pipe. The game was coming towards the end, one of the last days, it was a close game. I don’t remember who was winning, but I do remember that we won. I was in center field, and there was a close play, there was a rundown going on. If you don’t know what a rundown is in baseball, just Google it. There was a rundown going on in the infield, and I was watching, and all of a sudden, this voice, my father’s voice, came to me over my shoulder. I think that’s how God operates. I think that’s how the Holy Spirit operates. I think that’s how the living spirit of Christ operates, the voice that comes from over our shoulder. Be salt. Be light. So my father took the pipe out of his mouth and said, “Jay, go in there and back up that play.” So I did. I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t heard the voice. So, I went in, and I backed up the play, and one of the infielders threw a bad throw, and I could hear – it was not a huge crowd, but there were a lot of people there – and I heard the crowd groan. And I caught it. I waited there, and I tagged the guy out, and I was the hero. Yay! Why did I do it? I heard the voice. Why do we do anything? We hear the voice. Be salt. Be light. And by the way, all of these stories are gospel truth. They’re true. I was the hero, and it wasn’t my idea.

Story number two. I’ve already told it to you. I’m going to tell it to you again but I’m going to give you the short version, because I just think it’s so illustrative. I think I told you this one about a year ago. I was 16, I only had my driver’s license about four or five months. My dad at the time had a Chrysler Newport Custom. It was the best car, most expensive car we ever had, 1974. It’s the car I learned to drive on. We only had it because he got this amazing discount from a dealer who was a member of our church. I think the dealer was trying to make it to heaven, so he gave us this amazing discount. We couldn’t afford that car, but we had it. I said to my dad, “Dave Conrad and I want to go downtown. We want to go to Lazarus.” Lazarus was still in downtown Columbus. I don’t remember why, but we had a reason. My dad said OK. It was the first time I got to drive that Newport Custom without my dad in the car. So, Dave and I set out and went to Lazarus. I’ll going to give you the short version. We went to Lazarus, didn’t know what we wanted to do, we had a good time. We parked in the parking garage. I ‘d never parked in a parking garage before. Came back out, got in the car, started to go home, turn the wheel, bang! Yeah. The passenger door was all caved in. It was drivable, you could open and close it. There was no hiding it. There’s one part of this that’s too good to be true, but trust me, it’s true. We get in the car, I’m beyond devastated. It’s about a half-hour drive, you know, from downtown Columbus to Marysville. We had a lot of time to think. My friend Dave said, “Jay, here’s all we have to do.” He listed all these options, and none of them were telling the truth. As God is my witness, Dave went on to be a lawyer. (Laughter.) He was a really smart guy, he went undergraduate to Yale, and he went to Virginia Law School. He’s a lawyer to this day in California. So, he listed all these options for me. I finally settled on one of the options from my lawyer friend, and the option I settled on was, just tell him the car was like that when we came out. That was my plan. So, I dropped Dave off and I went to the house, and I parked in the garage and took a deep breath, and I went in. My dad was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room smoking his pipe and reading the newspaper. I said, “Dad, we’re home.” I inhaled and what was going to come out was the lie. I inhaled and what came out was the truth. I told him the truth. And what was his first response? Anybody remember or be able to guess? “Are you OK?” I said yeah. We talked about it, and he didn’t become angry. He forgave me. That’s grace. About a month later, I was driving my mom’s car, and I backed into my dad’s car in our driveway. My driving career got off to a tough start. I was a young kid in a hurry. I had to go into the house and tell him, “I just backed into your car in our driveway.” And he hit the roof. He was angry. And that’s called truth. Grace and truth. Enough is enough. Right? Salt of the earth.

The last story is about me. In the school of thought it says preachers should never tell stories where you’re the hero. I’m also the hero in this story, but it’s I think it’s revealing as to how God and the Holy Spirit and the living spirit of Christ operate. Jackson, I don’t remember how old he was, but he was old enough for the first time to say this to me – “Dad, can I ride my bike around the block once by myself?” At the time we lived on a pretty good-sized, suburban block, a big block circle, right? If I said yes this meant I said, “Yes, you can ride your bike for the first time around the block without me.” It meant when he turned the corner I wouldn’t see him again for a couple of minutes. So, I thought, “Is he old enough to do this? I’m not sure.” And I said yes. He took off, and as soon as he turned the corner and was about to disappear, I ran down to the corner to watch him. I watched him and he didn’t know it, and then he turned the corner again. I ran down the street and thought, “What are my neighbors going to think about this?” I ran down the street and hid behind a tree. (Laughter.) I watched him the whole way, and then I knew I was maybe in trouble. How was I going to get around him? So, I cut through a bunch of lawns, and I beat him back to the house. I sat on the porch, just way too cool. I watched him the whole way. I said, “How’d it go, buddy?” He said, “Great.” I think that’s how God operates. We think we’re alone. We’re not. When I say God is watching I don’t mean, “GOD IS WATCHING.” I think God is watching. I think Christ is watching. I think the Holy Spirit is watching. How are we going to be salt today, to each other and to this world that desperately needs us? How are we going to be light? Present and favorable. Amen? Amen.