Jesus Made Me Do it; or, why I pierced my nose

I'm preparing to deliver a sermon this Saturday at the Texas Festival of Young Preachers.  From the provided list, I chose Jeremiah 7:1-7 as my text:

This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Stand at the gate of the Lord’s house and there proclaim this message:

“‘Hear the word of the Lord, all you people of Judah who come through these gates to worship the Lord.  This is what theLord Almighty, the God of Israel, says: Reform your ways and your actions, and I will let you live in this place.  Do not trust in deceptive words and say, “This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord!”  If you really change your ways and your actions and deal with each other justly,  if you do not oppress the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow and do not shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not follow other gods to your own harm,  then I will let you live in this place, in the land I gave your ancestors for ever and ever. 

Try as I might, I can't avoid the fact that Jeremiah is the character in the Bible with whom I identify the strongest.  Yes, Jeremiah, the one who made his name by acting ridiculous, ranting about things no one wanted to hear, standing at the gate, and reaching out to the Outsiders.  I like to think I'm a little less insane than Jeremiah, but it's doubtful.

The truth is, the reason I love Jeremiah so much is that he gave God full control over his life, even when he did it begrudgingly.  Over the last couple years, and especially now that I'm a YAV, I've striven to cede control of even the most banal aspects of my life -- what I eat, what I wear, where I live, how I get to work. Like Jeremiah, I've felt pulled towards unpopular choices, not only taking a vow of poverty, but also sticking a big piece of metal right in the center of my face.  (Yes, my mother hates it; no, it didn't hurt.)

Like the prophet's unorthodox clothing choices and spiels against the rich, my septum piercing helps me identify outwardly and openly with the people I'm here to serve.  And so I honestly don't care what the folks on velvet pews behind stained glass windows think; I didn't do it for them.  I did it because I'm an Outsider, Jesus was an Outsider, and the people I serve are Outsiders.  I'm committed to following my call down to the smallest aspect, even if it means eating beans and rice every other day and looking a little strange in a church.

How blessed I am that the Spirit pushes me and gives me peace.

Peace of Christ!