Sermon preached May 20, 2012
Texts: Acts 11:1-11; Ephesians 1:15-23
When I was growing up, WDIO TV used to show an early movie in the afternoons. Sometimes after school I would watch that movie and among the movies shown were some starring the comedy team of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. One of my favorites was “Abbott and Costello Meet the Invisible Man.” This morning’s invitation to worship comes from that film. Police psychiatrist to Lou Costello: “Have you ever seen anyone disappear before?” “Yes, sir. My brother. My brother and I were walking down the street. All of the sudden he disappeared.” “Into thin air?” “No, into a manhole.”
Some of you may remember the series of Southwest Airline commercials with the tag line, “Want to Get Away.” There was the ad with the two guys playing a video game and one says to the other, “O.K. throw it like you would outside.” The other guy is a bit of a literalist and he literally throws the game controller into the tv, smashing the screen. Want to get away? The commercials work because we have, at times, wanted to get away.
Well the central story from the Bible for this morning is a story about disappearing, about getting away. Jesus disappears, Jesus gets away with style, panache. He does not disappear down a manhole, and not really into thin air either. “As they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight.” Now that’s a dramatic exit.
Jesus is gone. That is not simply a story from the past, but it is the permanent state of the church. Jesus is not here. He has gone away. With that there is another word. “This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” This theme of going and returning has found its way into the liturgies of the church. Our communion prayers include the affirmation: “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.” The Apostle’s Creed affirms that Jesus “ascended into heaven” and that he will “come again.” While at times we may be mystified by some of this – what might it mean to say that Jesus is coming again? - this is a part of the Christian story. I don’t think we have to have it all figured out and there are too many in the Christian community who spend inordinate amounts of time speculating on the whole idea of Jesus coming again. At its heart this idea of Jesus coming again is a word of hope that God is not yet done with God’s work in the world. At its heart is the idea that we live with a horizon of hope.
Jesus is gone. Jesus will come. As Christians, however, we also affirm, and trust, that Jesus is present with us. Whatever the story of Jesus rising into the clouds may mean, it does not mean that we don’t experience the presence of Jesus in our lives and world now. Jesus will not come walking down the aisle of the church, take up a seat in the pew next to you, and will not be graciously fighting you for a donut after church. Jesus is gone.
But Jesus does sit next to you in the pew in the person who is there, that person in whom the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Jesus is at work. We trust, as Marcus Borg puts it, in “the living Jesus who comes to us even now” (Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, 137). Jesus is gone. Jesus will come – and Jesus comes to us even now, again and again. As we pray, as we read Scripture, as we seek to be a follower of Jesus, a Jesus person, we know, we experience the presence of Jesus in our lives. We know, we experience the presence of God, in the face of Jesus, in our lives. Jesus is gone, but Jesus is here in some real way.
Yet there’s something more. As followers of Jesus, we help make Jesus real for the world. Jesus says, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses.” The Book of Discipline of The United Methodist Church puts it this way: The people of God, who are the church made visible in the world, must convince the world of the reality of the gospel or leave it unconvinced. (Book of Discipline, 2008, para. 129). Jesus is gone. Jesus is present in our lives. Jesus wants to be more real to the world through our lives. Now you don’t, now you see him! We make Jesus real for the world. The work of Jesus in the world has become our work and it is we who must convince the world on the reality of Jesus, and of God’s love as we know it in Jesus, or leave it unconvinced.
There is a prayer attributed to St. Teresa of Avila that communicates this now you don’t now you see him message. God of love, help us to remember that Christ has no body now on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours. Ours are the eyes to see the needs of the world. Ours are the hands with which to bless everyone now. Ours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good. (Feasting on the Word).
What an audacious claim, that Jesus is making himself real through us. What a daunting task. Jesus is gone. We make Jesus real to the world. Yet remember the other part to this – Jesus is present in our lives. The gospel story is not that Jesus leaves and says “good luck with that.” We believe in a living Jesus who comes to us even now. In Ephesians, Paul writes about the power of God which works in our lives. It is a power made evident in love. It is a power that gives us “a spirit of wisdom.” It is a power that seeks to have “the eyes of your heart enlightened.” We are those being formed by God in love, formed in and by the Spirit of Jesus. Wisdom is being formed in us. Love is being formed in us. Jesus is gone, but Jesus is here, at work in our lives.
Then Jesus moves us into the world, where we seek to make Jesus real for others. We take our open eyes and hearts into the world. As Jesus’ people we are invited to see the world more richly and deeply and profoundly. That some Christians have often seen the world in pinched and narrow ways says something about the perennial challenge that Jesus is even for those of us who seek to follow him. We want to be different her and I think we are.
We take wisdom into the world. As Jesus’ people we seek knowledge and wisdom. Christians for almost as long as there have been Christians have been wonderful at starting schools, institutions for learning. Charles Wesley, who with his brother John helped found the Methodist stream of the Christian tradition, had inscribed at a school started by Methodists the motto that we seek to bring together two things long estranged – “knowledge and vital piety.” That some Christians have too often turned away from education in fear says something about the perennial challenge that Jesus is even for those of us who seek to follow him. We want to be different here and I think we are.
Most important of all, we take love into the world. As Jesus’ people we are to be known by our love. Ruby’s Pantry happened this past Thursday. We had fewer people come than we were anticipating, and so had food left to donate. CHUM, Safe Haven, Union Gospel Mission, and the Damiano Center were beneficiaries of Ruby’s Pantry food. And we set aside some boxes, as we have in the past, for Lake Superior Elementary families. Well, Julie put that food into her car, but was having trouble reaching the principal of the school. There is another family at her current school that she knows has often been in need of food, so she called this person and made arrangements to bring food to her apartment. Then the idea struck. I bet there are others in that same building who are also in need. She called the woman back to tell her that she would be coming with food for others, too. When she arrived there were six families, delighted to have fresh chicken, and egg patties, and hash brown patties – astonished by gifts of love given through Ruby’s Pantry in the name of Jesus.
We have long been known in this community as the Coppertop Church. Our building stands out, and that is wonderful. But I want us to be known for our building and our love. This is the place where once a month you can get some food shared with care and kindness. This is the place where people reach out to mentor. This is the place where if you are having a bad day, there is someone to listen and help. This is the place that will welcome you. We want to make Jesus more real through the quality of our loving. That some Christians have been seen as narrow and judgmental in their loving says something about the perennial challenge that Jesus is even for those of us who seek to follow him. We want to be different here and I think we are.
Jesus is gone, except somehow he is real and present in our lives, and through our lives wants to be more real in and to the world. Now you don’t, now you see him.
Wendell Berry has a wonderful poem that is also a prayer (Leavings, 33)
I know that I have life
only insofar as I have love.
I have no love
except it come from Thee.
Help me please to carry
this candle against the wind.
Jesus is gone. Jesus is present in our lives as a burning love that forms us in wisdom and love. Jesus wants to be made more real to the world through our lives. Now you don’t, now you see him. May we carry that candle against the wind. Amen.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Astounded
Sermon preached May 13, 2012
Texts: Psalm 103:1-8, 19-22; Acts 10:44-48
Astounding. To astound – to amaze, to astonish, to fill with sudden wonder. “The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles.”
Are we ever astounded any more? I can think to things that tend to astound us. Say “September 11” and we remember how astounded we were that planes would be used as weapons in New York City. Judging from what I see in television advertising, we tend to be astounded by crime, particularly random crimes or gruesome crimes – the Manson Family, Columbine, Jeffrey Daumer, Ted Bundy.
We seem to be able to be astounded by tragedy, but I have a concern in our day of twenty-four hour news stations that we may be losing our ability to be astounded by some of the pain of the world that should astound and astonish us. Seeing too many pictures of starving children, do we become immune to their plight? Watching too many stories about war-torn countries, do we become hardened to such brutality? I think part of the work of God’s Spirit in our lives, the Spirit of Jesus, is to keep our hearts softened enough to know some of the pain in the world. Perhaps the child-like spirit Jesus encouraged is, in part, a spirit that can be astonished by human pain, human cruelty. I hope and pray that deep injustice continues to astound me. Even as I work with death and with grieving families, I hope and pray that I never lose the ability to feel some of their grief and pain and be astonished again and again by the depth of love and care in the face of death.
But while I am concerned about us losing our ability to be astounded by hurt and pain and tragedy, concerned because as long as we can be astounded we can be motivated to do something to alleviate hurt and stem the tide of injustice, I am even more concerned that we may be losing our ability to be astounded by goodness. Can we still be astounded by goodness?
Allow me a couple of examples from our political life. This week President Obama told the American people that he has come to believe that same sex couples should have the right to marry. Almost immediately the analysis of his statement was framed in narrow political terms – he needed to shore up his support among a particular base in his party. He needed to provide a contrast with the Republican candidate. Lost in such analysis is any sense that this might have been a moral statement, a statement about goodness. Now I am not naïve enough to think that they were no political calculations in this statement, but I also think this may have been a person trying to understand something about human goodness and human decency.
Mitt Romney looks to be the Republican nominee for President. During many of the primary debates he was often castigated for having changed his mind about one thing or another. While it is fair to wonder if someone running for office changes simply to appeal to certain voters, there were times when it seemed as if people were claiming that any change ever was illegitimate. One needed to hold one’s views the same forever. But isn’t that absurd. Surely we are not born fully formed. Isn’t the point of education to help us see the world in new ways, and perhaps change our minds? Don’t we want to be life-long learners, and if we are, we might change. I think it’s called growth.
My point is that there seems to be in our culture a way of thinking which gets in the way of our ability to be astounded. If a politician makes a moral statement, it is just politics, not trying to do good. If a politician changes her or his mind, they are not learning and growing, they are flip-floppers. Donors to a good cause become people who care only about their good name, not people who really care about a cause. Such thinking gets in the way of our ability to be astounded.
Now I am enough of a realist to know that for politicians political calculations are never far from their thinking. I am enough of a realist to know that people often have mixed motives in doing good. Skepticism is o.k., but when skepticism shades into cynicism, we lose our ability to be astounded, amazed, surprised, filled with wonder.
And here’s the real danger in that. We risk missing the work of God’s Spirit if we cannot be astounded by goodness, amazed by beauty, astonished by love. We need not and should not surrender our skepticism or give up our critical thinking, but we need to allow that goodness can happen, beauty can happen, love can happen. God’s Spirit can be at work in our lives and in our world. Bless God, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless God’s holy name. Bless God, O my soul and do not forget all God’s benefits. “The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles.”
I was astounded at General Conference when two of the most prominent United Methodist pastors in the United States stood together at a microphone to offer a statement about human sexuality that acknowledged our church’s differing opinions on the matter. Adam Hamilton and Mike Slaughter pastor growing and vibrant churches. Both are rooted in the more evangelical stream of Christian faith, yet they want to move our church in a new direction, allowing for faithful disagreement even as we work together. Their statement ended with the words of John Wesley. Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike? May we be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion?
I am often astounded by music. I am often astounded by the music here at this church. Wonderfully gifted musicians offer their gifts and talents to give our worship a certain depth and power. I am deeply grateful to our music staff – Carol, and Bill and Mike and Cynthia, and Richard, and to our support staff: Roger, Nick and Sarah, and to every voice and instrument played. You regularly astound me, and I am most astonished when some piece of music strikes a chord in tune with the sermon. Yes, I send out worship themes a few weeks in advance for our music staff, but there are times when something comes together in a way that leaves me filled with wonder. Thank you.
Mothers should astound us. On this Mother’s Day, I hope we recognize that, and to help us do so, I want to share part of a delightful poem about mothers. The poem is called “The Lanyard.” The poet is Billy Collins. In the first couple stanzas of the poem Collins is reminded of a time at camp as a child when he made a lanyard for his mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sickroom,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
Collins ends the poem by saying that one other gift given by his mother was the feeling she gave that “this useless, worthless thing I wove/out of boredom would be enough to make us even.” (The Trouble With Poetry, 45-46). Mothers should astound us, and I am astounded by this poem, too.
Another poet, Mary Oliver, in one of her works offers these lines:
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it. (Red Bird, 37)
Yes. We risk missing the work of God’s Spirit if we cannot be astounded by goodness, amazed by beauty, astonished by love. God’s Spirit is at work in our lives and our world.
And if God’s Spirit is indeed at work in our lives and in our world, and in some astounding ways, we not only need open minds and hearts, we should allow ourselves to be astounding at times. I think there is a connection between allowing ourselves to be astounded and allowing God to astound the world through us.
At General Conference I was seated with some of the delegation from Iowa and among their delegation was a young woman who I had met before. Midway through the second week of General Conference she was in an accident, hit by a truck. There were no broken bones, only bruises and soreness, and she returned to General Conference, but in wheel chair. That night at worship the focus of action for the service moved from the stage to a large baptismal fount in the center of the room. We all turned, but Jessica was in her wheel chair and could not turn by herself. I noticed that her eyes began to tear up and so I quietly moved near her and asked if she wanted to turn. “Yes.” We got her turned and I stayed near and held her hand, but soon the action of worship moved back up front and we both laughed a little at all the work it took to move her for such a few moments. Following the worship service, a bishop who had been seated on the edge of the auditorium came up to me and said that he could not help but notice that tender caring moment.
I am a little hesitant to tell this story. What I did was nothing extraordinary, just offered some care to a person I know. It seemed to astound another, though, and I am glad of that.
The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded. Keep an open heart, a heart open to being astounded by goodness, by beauty, by love. Keep an open heart to being astounding in the name of Jesus. Amen.
Texts: Psalm 103:1-8, 19-22; Acts 10:44-48
Astounding. To astound – to amaze, to astonish, to fill with sudden wonder. “The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles.”
Are we ever astounded any more? I can think to things that tend to astound us. Say “September 11” and we remember how astounded we were that planes would be used as weapons in New York City. Judging from what I see in television advertising, we tend to be astounded by crime, particularly random crimes or gruesome crimes – the Manson Family, Columbine, Jeffrey Daumer, Ted Bundy.
We seem to be able to be astounded by tragedy, but I have a concern in our day of twenty-four hour news stations that we may be losing our ability to be astounded by some of the pain of the world that should astound and astonish us. Seeing too many pictures of starving children, do we become immune to their plight? Watching too many stories about war-torn countries, do we become hardened to such brutality? I think part of the work of God’s Spirit in our lives, the Spirit of Jesus, is to keep our hearts softened enough to know some of the pain in the world. Perhaps the child-like spirit Jesus encouraged is, in part, a spirit that can be astonished by human pain, human cruelty. I hope and pray that deep injustice continues to astound me. Even as I work with death and with grieving families, I hope and pray that I never lose the ability to feel some of their grief and pain and be astonished again and again by the depth of love and care in the face of death.
But while I am concerned about us losing our ability to be astounded by hurt and pain and tragedy, concerned because as long as we can be astounded we can be motivated to do something to alleviate hurt and stem the tide of injustice, I am even more concerned that we may be losing our ability to be astounded by goodness. Can we still be astounded by goodness?
Allow me a couple of examples from our political life. This week President Obama told the American people that he has come to believe that same sex couples should have the right to marry. Almost immediately the analysis of his statement was framed in narrow political terms – he needed to shore up his support among a particular base in his party. He needed to provide a contrast with the Republican candidate. Lost in such analysis is any sense that this might have been a moral statement, a statement about goodness. Now I am not naïve enough to think that they were no political calculations in this statement, but I also think this may have been a person trying to understand something about human goodness and human decency.
Mitt Romney looks to be the Republican nominee for President. During many of the primary debates he was often castigated for having changed his mind about one thing or another. While it is fair to wonder if someone running for office changes simply to appeal to certain voters, there were times when it seemed as if people were claiming that any change ever was illegitimate. One needed to hold one’s views the same forever. But isn’t that absurd. Surely we are not born fully formed. Isn’t the point of education to help us see the world in new ways, and perhaps change our minds? Don’t we want to be life-long learners, and if we are, we might change. I think it’s called growth.
My point is that there seems to be in our culture a way of thinking which gets in the way of our ability to be astounded. If a politician makes a moral statement, it is just politics, not trying to do good. If a politician changes her or his mind, they are not learning and growing, they are flip-floppers. Donors to a good cause become people who care only about their good name, not people who really care about a cause. Such thinking gets in the way of our ability to be astounded.
Now I am enough of a realist to know that for politicians political calculations are never far from their thinking. I am enough of a realist to know that people often have mixed motives in doing good. Skepticism is o.k., but when skepticism shades into cynicism, we lose our ability to be astounded, amazed, surprised, filled with wonder.
And here’s the real danger in that. We risk missing the work of God’s Spirit if we cannot be astounded by goodness, amazed by beauty, astonished by love. We need not and should not surrender our skepticism or give up our critical thinking, but we need to allow that goodness can happen, beauty can happen, love can happen. God’s Spirit can be at work in our lives and in our world. Bless God, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless God’s holy name. Bless God, O my soul and do not forget all God’s benefits. “The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles.”
I was astounded at General Conference when two of the most prominent United Methodist pastors in the United States stood together at a microphone to offer a statement about human sexuality that acknowledged our church’s differing opinions on the matter. Adam Hamilton and Mike Slaughter pastor growing and vibrant churches. Both are rooted in the more evangelical stream of Christian faith, yet they want to move our church in a new direction, allowing for faithful disagreement even as we work together. Their statement ended with the words of John Wesley. Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike? May we be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion?
I am often astounded by music. I am often astounded by the music here at this church. Wonderfully gifted musicians offer their gifts and talents to give our worship a certain depth and power. I am deeply grateful to our music staff – Carol, and Bill and Mike and Cynthia, and Richard, and to our support staff: Roger, Nick and Sarah, and to every voice and instrument played. You regularly astound me, and I am most astonished when some piece of music strikes a chord in tune with the sermon. Yes, I send out worship themes a few weeks in advance for our music staff, but there are times when something comes together in a way that leaves me filled with wonder. Thank you.
Mothers should astound us. On this Mother’s Day, I hope we recognize that, and to help us do so, I want to share part of a delightful poem about mothers. The poem is called “The Lanyard.” The poet is Billy Collins. In the first couple stanzas of the poem Collins is reminded of a time at camp as a child when he made a lanyard for his mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sickroom,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
Collins ends the poem by saying that one other gift given by his mother was the feeling she gave that “this useless, worthless thing I wove/out of boredom would be enough to make us even.” (The Trouble With Poetry, 45-46). Mothers should astound us, and I am astounded by this poem, too.
Another poet, Mary Oliver, in one of her works offers these lines:
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it. (Red Bird, 37)
Yes. We risk missing the work of God’s Spirit if we cannot be astounded by goodness, amazed by beauty, astonished by love. God’s Spirit is at work in our lives and our world.
And if God’s Spirit is indeed at work in our lives and in our world, and in some astounding ways, we not only need open minds and hearts, we should allow ourselves to be astounding at times. I think there is a connection between allowing ourselves to be astounded and allowing God to astound the world through us.
At General Conference I was seated with some of the delegation from Iowa and among their delegation was a young woman who I had met before. Midway through the second week of General Conference she was in an accident, hit by a truck. There were no broken bones, only bruises and soreness, and she returned to General Conference, but in wheel chair. That night at worship the focus of action for the service moved from the stage to a large baptismal fount in the center of the room. We all turned, but Jessica was in her wheel chair and could not turn by herself. I noticed that her eyes began to tear up and so I quietly moved near her and asked if she wanted to turn. “Yes.” We got her turned and I stayed near and held her hand, but soon the action of worship moved back up front and we both laughed a little at all the work it took to move her for such a few moments. Following the worship service, a bishop who had been seated on the edge of the auditorium came up to me and said that he could not help but notice that tender caring moment.
I am a little hesitant to tell this story. What I did was nothing extraordinary, just offered some care to a person I know. It seemed to astound another, though, and I am glad of that.
The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded. Keep an open heart, a heart open to being astounded by goodness, by beauty, by love. Keep an open heart to being astounding in the name of Jesus. Amen.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
A Love That Doesn't Quit - or - Lay Down Your Weary Tune
Sermon preached May 6, 2012
First United Methodist Church, Duluth
Scripture Readings: I John 4:7-21; Galatians 6:7-10
Play a bit of The Byrds, “Lay Down Your Weary Tune.”
Weary. I am weary this morning. Many of you know that for the past two weeks I have been at the United Methodist General Conference in Tampa, Florida, arriving home late yesterday afternoon. General Conference is the every four year gathering of United Methodists from around the world. The General Conference is the highest policy making body in our denomination. With our church growing in Africa, this General Conference 40% of the delegates came from outside the Unites States – from Europe, the Philippines, Russia, as well as Africa.
The schedule at General Conference is always busy. The day begins with morning prayer at 8 am and ends with evening worship, which is scheduled to be completed at 9:30 pm. In order to process petitions, recommended changes to our Book of Discipline or our social statements, each delegate is assigned to a legislative committee. I was honored to be elected the chairperson of my committee which dealt with ministry and higher education. What I was not aware of was that this also meant I met with the agenda committee each morning for a breakfast meeting at 6:30 am. If I don’t look spectacularly tanned for having spent so much time in Tampa perhaps it is because I walked from my hotel to the convention center in the dark and returned at night in the dark. Some days I never left the convention center at all.
Physically, I am still weary from these days.
But I am also weary emotionally and, in some ways, spiritually. The United Methodist Church is truly a global church in a way unique to other denominations in the Unites States. All delegates present vote on all the issues, but sometimes our contexts for ministry are very different. The social and cultural situation in many African countries is dramatically different than ours.
There is beauty in the global nature of our church. Gathered together we see that the body of Christ, those who follow Jesus all around the world, is Technicolor and multi-vocal. I am going to cherish this gift I received from a woman in the Philippines who was in my legislative committee. I will not forget the night I wished a delegate from the Congo “good night” in French – bon nuit. He was so excited that perhaps we could have a conversation in his language and then found out that beyond bon nuit, my abilities in French are un petite.
There is struggle in the global nature of our church. How do we fairly represent the geographically and theologically diverse voices in our church? What sort of structures might foster a creative connection while recognizing different ministry needs in different contexts? And then there is the issue of human sexuality. As you perhaps read in the newspaper the other day, our denomination continues to limit the participation of GLBT persons in some ways – such as ordination or union services. In the committee I chaired we had a debate about clergy officiating at same-sex unions. Currently United Methodist clergy are prohibited from officiating at such services. Delegates from Africa shared that this kind of thing did not happen in their country and they were told by many of their members that they would leave the church were the United Methodists to allow this. Other delegates from the United States shared how this prohibition was getting in the way of ministry, pastoral ministry with members and reaching out to young people. In the end the vote to allow clergy to officiate at same-sex unions failed in my committee by four votes. I was disappointed and heartbroken, and was so again when our current denominational policies were affirmed by the entire General Conference this past Thursday, leading to a protest on the floor of the meeting. We have not yet figured this out, and it is spiritually and emotionally draining, and I am weary.
So you have heard some bad news this morning, but the gospel of Jesus Christ is good news, always good news. Here it is – “God is love.” “God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only son into the world so that we might live through him.” God is love, life-animating, life-affirming love.
This God of love extends love to all – to all: black, white, various shades in-between, American, European, Asian, African, rich, poor, gay, straight. God is love
God is love, and we are to love in God’s name, in the spirit of Jesus. “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God, and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God…. We love because God first loved us…. Those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” God is love and God invites us to live in love. This is good news, and that doesn’t change because we have not yet gotten love right at The United Methodist General Conference.
God is love – life-affirming, life-animating, energizing love. “So let us not grow weary in doing what is right…. Let us work for the good of all.”
This morning I am weary. This morning my heart is still hurting. Yet this morning, I will not let that weariness turn into a weariness about doing good. God is love, life-affirming, life-animating, energizing love and I do not intend to grow weary in doing what is right, in doing good.
In our flawed, human church, with its cracks and breaks, God’s love is still known and lived. There are incredible people who follow Jesus in The United Methodist Church – people with vision, and passion and energy who are determined to move the church and to help work with God to change the world. For all its flaws and ability to cause some hurt to people by its decisions, the General Conference itself offers the opportunity for conversations across the continents. Yes, I hope in the near future there is greater autonomy for regions of the church to make some important decisions, including decisions about human sexuality. And I also appreciate the chance we have to have conversations with people whose cultures shy away from almost any discussion of human sexuality whatsoever. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
In our flawed, human church, with its cracks and breaks, God’s love is still known and lived. Since The United Methodist Church joined with other groups six years ago, with the goal of eliminating death from malaria, the death rate has been cut in half. As recently as 2008, there were over 1 million deaths per year from malaria – a death every 30 seconds. The current number of deaths from malaria is still too high, 665,000, but that is one every minute, not every thirty seconds. There is progress and more work to do. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
In our flawed, human church, with its cracks and breaks, God’s love is still known and lived. We missed the boat again on a broad statement on human sexuality, yet we also affirmed that the church was in ministry to help people in their marriages and families and that we are in ministry with all people who are single, and in families in various configurations. Further, while I remain in disagreement with our denomination on its prohibition of same-sex marriage and will continue to work to change it, there is nothing in our denominational policies that prohibits me from working against the amendment to our state constitution which would define marriage in purely heterosexual terms, and I intend to do just that. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
And we have before ourselves as a church a unique opportunity to refashion our life together as by your vote we are moving toward a merger with Chester Park UMC. This can be more than welcoming new people into our shared life and ministry, though welcome them we will. This is an opportunity for us to ask who we want to be in ministry for Jesus Christ as a old/new church. God’s Spirit may be at work here. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
As God’s people we will sometimes feel weary, physically, emotionally and maybe even spiritually. We will sing some weary tunes – just look at the psalms. But because God is love we will always be invited to lay down our weary tune, to rest ourselves in a new song, and to be reenergized for doing good. Amen.
First United Methodist Church, Duluth
Scripture Readings: I John 4:7-21; Galatians 6:7-10
Play a bit of The Byrds, “Lay Down Your Weary Tune.”
Weary. I am weary this morning. Many of you know that for the past two weeks I have been at the United Methodist General Conference in Tampa, Florida, arriving home late yesterday afternoon. General Conference is the every four year gathering of United Methodists from around the world. The General Conference is the highest policy making body in our denomination. With our church growing in Africa, this General Conference 40% of the delegates came from outside the Unites States – from Europe, the Philippines, Russia, as well as Africa.
The schedule at General Conference is always busy. The day begins with morning prayer at 8 am and ends with evening worship, which is scheduled to be completed at 9:30 pm. In order to process petitions, recommended changes to our Book of Discipline or our social statements, each delegate is assigned to a legislative committee. I was honored to be elected the chairperson of my committee which dealt with ministry and higher education. What I was not aware of was that this also meant I met with the agenda committee each morning for a breakfast meeting at 6:30 am. If I don’t look spectacularly tanned for having spent so much time in Tampa perhaps it is because I walked from my hotel to the convention center in the dark and returned at night in the dark. Some days I never left the convention center at all.
Physically, I am still weary from these days.
But I am also weary emotionally and, in some ways, spiritually. The United Methodist Church is truly a global church in a way unique to other denominations in the Unites States. All delegates present vote on all the issues, but sometimes our contexts for ministry are very different. The social and cultural situation in many African countries is dramatically different than ours.
There is beauty in the global nature of our church. Gathered together we see that the body of Christ, those who follow Jesus all around the world, is Technicolor and multi-vocal. I am going to cherish this gift I received from a woman in the Philippines who was in my legislative committee. I will not forget the night I wished a delegate from the Congo “good night” in French – bon nuit. He was so excited that perhaps we could have a conversation in his language and then found out that beyond bon nuit, my abilities in French are un petite.
There is struggle in the global nature of our church. How do we fairly represent the geographically and theologically diverse voices in our church? What sort of structures might foster a creative connection while recognizing different ministry needs in different contexts? And then there is the issue of human sexuality. As you perhaps read in the newspaper the other day, our denomination continues to limit the participation of GLBT persons in some ways – such as ordination or union services. In the committee I chaired we had a debate about clergy officiating at same-sex unions. Currently United Methodist clergy are prohibited from officiating at such services. Delegates from Africa shared that this kind of thing did not happen in their country and they were told by many of their members that they would leave the church were the United Methodists to allow this. Other delegates from the United States shared how this prohibition was getting in the way of ministry, pastoral ministry with members and reaching out to young people. In the end the vote to allow clergy to officiate at same-sex unions failed in my committee by four votes. I was disappointed and heartbroken, and was so again when our current denominational policies were affirmed by the entire General Conference this past Thursday, leading to a protest on the floor of the meeting. We have not yet figured this out, and it is spiritually and emotionally draining, and I am weary.
So you have heard some bad news this morning, but the gospel of Jesus Christ is good news, always good news. Here it is – “God is love.” “God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only son into the world so that we might live through him.” God is love, life-animating, life-affirming love.
This God of love extends love to all – to all: black, white, various shades in-between, American, European, Asian, African, rich, poor, gay, straight. God is love
God is love, and we are to love in God’s name, in the spirit of Jesus. “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God, and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God…. We love because God first loved us…. Those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” God is love and God invites us to live in love. This is good news, and that doesn’t change because we have not yet gotten love right at The United Methodist General Conference.
God is love – life-affirming, life-animating, energizing love. “So let us not grow weary in doing what is right…. Let us work for the good of all.”
This morning I am weary. This morning my heart is still hurting. Yet this morning, I will not let that weariness turn into a weariness about doing good. God is love, life-affirming, life-animating, energizing love and I do not intend to grow weary in doing what is right, in doing good.
In our flawed, human church, with its cracks and breaks, God’s love is still known and lived. There are incredible people who follow Jesus in The United Methodist Church – people with vision, and passion and energy who are determined to move the church and to help work with God to change the world. For all its flaws and ability to cause some hurt to people by its decisions, the General Conference itself offers the opportunity for conversations across the continents. Yes, I hope in the near future there is greater autonomy for regions of the church to make some important decisions, including decisions about human sexuality. And I also appreciate the chance we have to have conversations with people whose cultures shy away from almost any discussion of human sexuality whatsoever. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
In our flawed, human church, with its cracks and breaks, God’s love is still known and lived. Since The United Methodist Church joined with other groups six years ago, with the goal of eliminating death from malaria, the death rate has been cut in half. As recently as 2008, there were over 1 million deaths per year from malaria – a death every 30 seconds. The current number of deaths from malaria is still too high, 665,000, but that is one every minute, not every thirty seconds. There is progress and more work to do. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
In our flawed, human church, with its cracks and breaks, God’s love is still known and lived. We missed the boat again on a broad statement on human sexuality, yet we also affirmed that the church was in ministry to help people in their marriages and families and that we are in ministry with all people who are single, and in families in various configurations. Further, while I remain in disagreement with our denomination on its prohibition of same-sex marriage and will continue to work to change it, there is nothing in our denominational policies that prohibits me from working against the amendment to our state constitution which would define marriage in purely heterosexual terms, and I intend to do just that. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
And we have before ourselves as a church a unique opportunity to refashion our life together as by your vote we are moving toward a merger with Chester Park UMC. This can be more than welcoming new people into our shared life and ministry, though welcome them we will. This is an opportunity for us to ask who we want to be in ministry for Jesus Christ as a old/new church. God’s Spirit may be at work here. God is love and now is not the time to grow weary in doing good.
As God’s people we will sometimes feel weary, physically, emotionally and maybe even spiritually. We will sing some weary tunes – just look at the psalms. But because God is love we will always be invited to lay down our weary tune, to rest ourselves in a new song, and to be reenergized for doing good. Amen.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Can I Get a Witness?
Sermon preached April 22, 2012
Texts: Luke 24:36-49
Play Marvin Gaye, “Can I Get a Witness.”
So, if you did not catch this the first time, here is how this card trick goes, and I will include a link to a youtube version when I post my sermon on-line:
Jack the Bounty Hunter card trick
So here is how this trick works. Find a jack and set it aside. Deal two piles of fifteen cards and cut each pile. Have a card chosen from the remaining cards. Place it on one of your piles and I will place one pile on top. Place the jack on one of my piles and place your pile on top. Put the piles together. Then make piles with every other card, always keeping the pile with the jack. When only two cards are left – it should be the jack and the chosen card.
Can I get a witness? You are witnesses of these things.
Witnessing. That is a loaded word in religious contexts. At one point in my Christian journey, to go witnessing meant hitting the streets with Christian literature to distribute to people walking by, and being willing to share the story of the gospel with them. Being a rather shy adolescent at the time, this terrified me, but I understood it at the time as part of my Christian obligation. Maybe that’s what religious witnessing connotes for you, too.
Sometimes the model for religious witnessing is something like what Jesus is portrayed as doing here in Luke 24. It seems as if Jesus takes the whole Bible story and explains it all. There are those whose idea of witnessing entails stringing together a long list of Bible passages to convince another of their understanding of Christian faith.
To be sure, grappling with the Bible is an essential part of our Christian journey of faith, our journey with Jesus. As mystifying as the Bible is sometimes, and challenging as some of its texts are, the long-term testimony of those on the Christian journey of faith is that our journey is enriched when we grapple with the Bible.
Such grappling with the Bible, important and necessary as that is for our lives, is not the stuff of giving Christian witness. To what are the disciples witnesses in Luke 24? The presence of Jesus in their midst. Look, see, touch and see. Jesus says, “Peace be with you.” Jesus “opened their minds to understanding the scriptures.”
And who are these disciples who are witnesses? “In their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering.” These disciples sound a bit like you and me, don’t they?
One of the problems we have when we think about what it means to discuss our faith – to witness about our faith, is that we think we need to have it all together. We think that we have to have a nice prepared presentation, that it should be filled with Bible quotes, that we should not have any questions ourselves, that our job is to convince others of the rightness of our faith and the wrongness of being outside of it.
None of that is true. When Jesus says, “you are witnesses of these things” and when he encourages their continuing witness, what they are witnessing to, what they are sharing is their own stories – stories of joy and disbelief and wonder, stories of a Jesus who is present in their lives opening their minds and bringing a bit of peace.
That’s what we are invited to share with others, too – our experience of God in Jesus, a Jesus who brings some peace, some joy, who opens our minds and causes us to wonder. We can share our own grappling with disbelief along the way.
Here is where the Jack the Detective card trick comes in. I can do this card trick. I know it works. I am not sure why it works.
My relationship with Jesus “works.” I can tell you about that. I may not be able to explain everything about that relationship. I mean how is it that someone who died about two thousand years ago seems present and real – the face of God, the side of God turned toward me? If you want, I can offer some good theological and philosophical reflections on that making use of the philosophy of language, biblical hermeneutics based in historical-critical analysis, existential philosophy, psychoanalytic psychology, and process theology – but that is not what most people are interested in!
What most people want to know is whether a relationship with Jesus, the Christian journey of faith, being part of a Jesus community (church) makes any difference in life. Is there really some joy and peace to be found on this way? Are minds really opened up on this way? Are faith, hope and love really central to this way? Yes, yes, yes.
That’s what I witness to. Being on the journey of life with Jesus is not always easy – but the Christian journey of faith, the Christian connection with God and community helps me ask better questions, helps me struggle with important issues personally and globally. I see the world more clearly and broadly and richly because of this journey. I grow because of this journey; it has given me an intense passion for learning. I hear the cries of the world more deeply because of this journey, and am able to respond to some. I care for the planet more because of this journey. Being on the journey with Jesus has not made me perfect. I make mistakes. I hurt others. Even then, this journey helps me say “I am sorry.” It teaches me about forgiveness, my need for it and my need to struggle with it.
The journey with Jesus just seems to work. I can witness that, and I want to share that because I want other people’s lives to work, too.
There is more, though. There is a wonderful quote attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, though he probably did not himself say it. “Preach the gospel at all times, when necessary use words.” Preach the gospel at all times, when necessary use words.
I have spent a lot of time on the witnessing with words part this morning because that is what I think we struggle with the most. Many of us have been victims of hit and run or ambush religious witnessing and it is the last thing we want to do. Don’t do it. But there are times in the course of our lives when we may have the opportunity to simply say – God, Jesus, church work for me. Do that.
Yet our most common and most powerful witnessing is with the quality of our lives. We can say all we want, but it will be in our lives where people will see what might work with this Jesus way. I can explain the card trick all I want, but it is after you see if a few times, that you know it works. Being a witness is less about crafting words than about shaping a life, working with the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Jesus to shape our lives so that we live with a certain sense of adventure, express a certain kind of joy, face the crises in our lives with a measure of courage and hope, face the crises in the world with a measure of courage and hope, don’t grow weary in doing good, care about the hungry and poor, befriend the hurting, work for a better world, tend the garden of the earth (a good reminder on Earth Day weekend), live more lovingly.
Can I get a witness? We are witnesses – like it or not. May we be good witnesses with our words and with our lives. Amen.
Texts: Luke 24:36-49
Play Marvin Gaye, “Can I Get a Witness.”
So, if you did not catch this the first time, here is how this card trick goes, and I will include a link to a youtube version when I post my sermon on-line:
Jack the Bounty Hunter card trick
So here is how this trick works. Find a jack and set it aside. Deal two piles of fifteen cards and cut each pile. Have a card chosen from the remaining cards. Place it on one of your piles and I will place one pile on top. Place the jack on one of my piles and place your pile on top. Put the piles together. Then make piles with every other card, always keeping the pile with the jack. When only two cards are left – it should be the jack and the chosen card.
Can I get a witness? You are witnesses of these things.
Witnessing. That is a loaded word in religious contexts. At one point in my Christian journey, to go witnessing meant hitting the streets with Christian literature to distribute to people walking by, and being willing to share the story of the gospel with them. Being a rather shy adolescent at the time, this terrified me, but I understood it at the time as part of my Christian obligation. Maybe that’s what religious witnessing connotes for you, too.
Sometimes the model for religious witnessing is something like what Jesus is portrayed as doing here in Luke 24. It seems as if Jesus takes the whole Bible story and explains it all. There are those whose idea of witnessing entails stringing together a long list of Bible passages to convince another of their understanding of Christian faith.
To be sure, grappling with the Bible is an essential part of our Christian journey of faith, our journey with Jesus. As mystifying as the Bible is sometimes, and challenging as some of its texts are, the long-term testimony of those on the Christian journey of faith is that our journey is enriched when we grapple with the Bible.
Such grappling with the Bible, important and necessary as that is for our lives, is not the stuff of giving Christian witness. To what are the disciples witnesses in Luke 24? The presence of Jesus in their midst. Look, see, touch and see. Jesus says, “Peace be with you.” Jesus “opened their minds to understanding the scriptures.”
And who are these disciples who are witnesses? “In their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering.” These disciples sound a bit like you and me, don’t they?
One of the problems we have when we think about what it means to discuss our faith – to witness about our faith, is that we think we need to have it all together. We think that we have to have a nice prepared presentation, that it should be filled with Bible quotes, that we should not have any questions ourselves, that our job is to convince others of the rightness of our faith and the wrongness of being outside of it.
None of that is true. When Jesus says, “you are witnesses of these things” and when he encourages their continuing witness, what they are witnessing to, what they are sharing is their own stories – stories of joy and disbelief and wonder, stories of a Jesus who is present in their lives opening their minds and bringing a bit of peace.
That’s what we are invited to share with others, too – our experience of God in Jesus, a Jesus who brings some peace, some joy, who opens our minds and causes us to wonder. We can share our own grappling with disbelief along the way.
Here is where the Jack the Detective card trick comes in. I can do this card trick. I know it works. I am not sure why it works.
My relationship with Jesus “works.” I can tell you about that. I may not be able to explain everything about that relationship. I mean how is it that someone who died about two thousand years ago seems present and real – the face of God, the side of God turned toward me? If you want, I can offer some good theological and philosophical reflections on that making use of the philosophy of language, biblical hermeneutics based in historical-critical analysis, existential philosophy, psychoanalytic psychology, and process theology – but that is not what most people are interested in!
What most people want to know is whether a relationship with Jesus, the Christian journey of faith, being part of a Jesus community (church) makes any difference in life. Is there really some joy and peace to be found on this way? Are minds really opened up on this way? Are faith, hope and love really central to this way? Yes, yes, yes.
That’s what I witness to. Being on the journey of life with Jesus is not always easy – but the Christian journey of faith, the Christian connection with God and community helps me ask better questions, helps me struggle with important issues personally and globally. I see the world more clearly and broadly and richly because of this journey. I grow because of this journey; it has given me an intense passion for learning. I hear the cries of the world more deeply because of this journey, and am able to respond to some. I care for the planet more because of this journey. Being on the journey with Jesus has not made me perfect. I make mistakes. I hurt others. Even then, this journey helps me say “I am sorry.” It teaches me about forgiveness, my need for it and my need to struggle with it.
The journey with Jesus just seems to work. I can witness that, and I want to share that because I want other people’s lives to work, too.
There is more, though. There is a wonderful quote attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, though he probably did not himself say it. “Preach the gospel at all times, when necessary use words.” Preach the gospel at all times, when necessary use words.
I have spent a lot of time on the witnessing with words part this morning because that is what I think we struggle with the most. Many of us have been victims of hit and run or ambush religious witnessing and it is the last thing we want to do. Don’t do it. But there are times in the course of our lives when we may have the opportunity to simply say – God, Jesus, church work for me. Do that.
Yet our most common and most powerful witnessing is with the quality of our lives. We can say all we want, but it will be in our lives where people will see what might work with this Jesus way. I can explain the card trick all I want, but it is after you see if a few times, that you know it works. Being a witness is less about crafting words than about shaping a life, working with the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Jesus to shape our lives so that we live with a certain sense of adventure, express a certain kind of joy, face the crises in our lives with a measure of courage and hope, face the crises in the world with a measure of courage and hope, don’t grow weary in doing good, care about the hungry and poor, befriend the hurting, work for a better world, tend the garden of the earth (a good reminder on Earth Day weekend), live more lovingly.
Can I get a witness? We are witnesses – like it or not. May we be good witnesses with our words and with our lives. Amen.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Practice Resurrection
Sermon preached April 15, 2012
Texts: Acts 4:32-35; I John 1:5-10; John 20:19-23
I am going to begin this morning with a poem and will show it by Power Point as well. The poem is entitled “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” and the poet is Wendell Berry.
Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion – put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go lie with your love in the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Perhaps this poem startles you a bit, or puzzles you a bit. What’s wrong with vacation with pay? Why praise ignorance? Lose your mind?
Berry wants to startle and puzzle us. He wants us to think, and to laugh. The poem should be read both humorously and seriously. There is humor in his seriousness and seriousness in his humor. “Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”
The final line may be most startling of all. “Practice resurrection.” Whatever we make of Berry’s critique of the contemporary world or of his humorous suggestions for how to live differently I hope we take seriously his encouragement to practice resurrection, because resurrection is something to be practiced. We are Easter people, and it is meant to show in our lives. And sometimes practicing resurrection will mean that we are counter-cultural, that we will question the easy assumptions of the world around us, that we will be different.
Reading the Scriptures for this first Sunday after Easter, we are confronted with texts which tell us something about what it means to practice resurrection. Some of the ways they encourage us to practice resurrection run counter to the ways of the world around us. From each of the three Scriptures we read I want to pick one way we are encouraged to “practice resurrection,” to live as God’s Easter people.
In the reading from the Gospel of John, following the resurrection Jesus finds his way into a locked room where the disciples had gathered. They met behind locked doors because of their fear. Two of the things Jesus says to them: “Peace be with you…. Receive the Holy Spirit.”
Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people, means welcoming God’s Spirit and nurturing the spirit in our lives. In one of my sermons during Lent I quoted a young woman who had posted a blog about 15 reasons why she left the church. Here were a couple of her reasons. I left the church because my questions were seen as liabilities. I left the church because I believe the earth is 4.5 billion years old and that humans share a common ancestor with apes, which I was told was incompatible with my faith. I left the church because sometimes I doubt, and church can be the worst place to doubt. (Rachel Held Evans)
In response to her blog, many wrote encouraging her to find a mainline church. “But we’re avoiding all of those pitfalls. We’re inclusive. We’re not judgmental. We care for the community.” Rachel Held Evans responds: Well when was the last time you talked about why you are inclusive, why you embrace science, why you care for the poor? When was the last time you engaged in a serious, church-wide Bible study or launched a series on the spiritual disciplines? Evangelicals are used to being intensely engaged in their faith. If they don’t sense that your church offers them a safe place to wrestle and grow, they won’t come at all. I speak from my own experience, because, while there is much I love and appreciate about mainline denominations, when I visit, I always leave feeling like something’s missing. I miss that evangelical fire-in-the-belly that makes people talk about their faith with passion and conviction. I miss the familiarity with scripture and the intensive Bible studies. I miss the emphasis on cultivating a personal spirituality.
I share that not because we should cultivate our spirituality in response to one woman’s criticisms of mainline churches. I share that because I believe practicing resurrection means we will tend to our inner spiritual life. We will pray. We will engage Scriptures – with our head and our heart. We will explore spiritual disciplines. We will cultivate some fire in the belly, some passion for our faith. We strive for a faith that is passionate, compassionate and thoughtful. That’s counter-cultural. That’s practicing resurrection.
Practicing resurrection also has something to do with forgiveness. In the gospel reading, Jesus speaks of forgiveness. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” I John speaks both of our need to walk in the light, and of our need for forgiveness.
Over the years as a pastor, I have been asked frequently about forgiveness. It is a challenging topic. I am asked about forgiveness, in part, because people have experienced a lot of hurt in their lives, some of it very deep. People have been wounded, sometimes badly. People have been abused, if not physically or sexually, then perhaps psychologically. Then they hear things like, “Christians have to forgive.” Perhaps a Scripture is quoted, such as Colossians 3:13: Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. The directive seems clear, the feelings and experiences less so.
I think Biblical forgiveness is an ideal toward which we strive and a process in which we are engaged. It is not very helpful to think of it simply as a command or a directive. The language in John is interesting. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” I don’t think this makes forgiveness an optional resurrection practice. I think it provides some important complexity to those who simply say “you must forgive.” As Easter people we need to grapple with and be engaged with forgiveness, in all its messiness and complexity.
Here are some important things to remember along the way. Forgiveness does not mean we continue to put ourselves in positions where one who has hurt us can continue to hurt us. Forgiveness does not mean that we act like nothing ever happened. Forgiveness is as significant for our own well-being as for whatever relationship we want to have with the person we forgive. I deeply appreciate the words of Jack Kornfield on forgiveness. Forgiveness is a letting go of past suffering and betrayal, a release of the burden of the past and hate that we carry. Forgiveness honors the heart’s greatest dignity…. Forgiveness means giving up all hope of a better past. (The Art of Forgiveness, Lovingkindness and Peace, 20, 25)
For Christians, forgiveness is not simply something which we seek to enact, it is also something we receive. “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not is us. If we confess our sins, the One who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Maybe not language we use every day, but the idea is that we, too, fall short. We, too, need forgiveness. When we recognize that we need forgiveness sometimes, our own ability to forgive increases.
Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people, means welcoming God’s Spirit and nurturing the spirit in our lives. Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people means grappling with forgiveness. Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people also means tending the common good.
Here is a mouthful. The nexus of relationships that forms our existence is… given. We do not create these relationships; we experience them, being given with existence. And from this matrix come resources of grace that can carry us beyond the meanings of our own making, and alert us to goodness that is not of our own willing or defining. (Bernard Meland, Fallible Forms and Symbols, 151). This is a long way of saying that we come into a world in a web of relationships that we did not create, but from which we benefit. Over time, we contribute to that commons, that web of relationships, as well as benefit from it. This is the gift and reality of community, of the common good.
Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common…. Great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them. Is practicing resurrection counter to private property? I don’t think so, but this vision of the early Christian community should grab our attention. As a church we are not simply a collection of isolated individuals. Yes, we are individuals and the church should be helping us along our journey with Jesus. We are also together creating community, something from which we want many to benefit. In community we ask not only, “What’s in it for me?” we also ask, “What’s good for the community?”
This resurrection practice should affect our understanding of politics as well. There is a common good from which we benefit and too which we contribute and we need to think about what is good for the broader human community, the planetary community. Practicing resurrection is counter to a politics of hyper-individualism.
Christ is risen. Practice resurrection. A story.
When our daughter Beth was in India, she was traveling by train and there met a woman from Paris, a woman around age 50. They began talking and the woman was explaining that she was in India to visit friends, and that she had been there before and gave Beth some tips on traveling in India. Anyway, they had a nice conversation, and a more extended conversation than they might have had otherwise because the train was late. Arriving at their destination, the woman became concerned. She had not been able to get a hold of her friends, who were not sure just when she was coming. It was now late, and the woman was not sure where she was going to stay. Beth told the woman that she had a nice hotel room and would be glad to put her up for the night. She could share the large bed. The woman was deeply grateful and told Beth if ever she was in Paris to look her up.
Beth had told us this story, and Beth, Sarah and Julie discussed it again as they traveled to the Twin Cities to take Beth to her flight to Uganda. Julie said she was both proud of Beth, but concerned for that kind of behavior. Beth said, “You know, Mom, I was raised by you and Dad, raised in the church, and I often ask what would Jesus do, and I think Jesus would have invited that woman to spend the night and share the bed.” Then they all laughed because, well, there is sort of a funny side to that. But Jesus makes a difference. That’s the point.
Christ is risen. Practice resurrection. Amen.
Texts: Acts 4:32-35; I John 1:5-10; John 20:19-23
I am going to begin this morning with a poem and will show it by Power Point as well. The poem is entitled “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” and the poet is Wendell Berry.
Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion – put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go lie with your love in the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Perhaps this poem startles you a bit, or puzzles you a bit. What’s wrong with vacation with pay? Why praise ignorance? Lose your mind?
Berry wants to startle and puzzle us. He wants us to think, and to laugh. The poem should be read both humorously and seriously. There is humor in his seriousness and seriousness in his humor. “Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”
The final line may be most startling of all. “Practice resurrection.” Whatever we make of Berry’s critique of the contemporary world or of his humorous suggestions for how to live differently I hope we take seriously his encouragement to practice resurrection, because resurrection is something to be practiced. We are Easter people, and it is meant to show in our lives. And sometimes practicing resurrection will mean that we are counter-cultural, that we will question the easy assumptions of the world around us, that we will be different.
Reading the Scriptures for this first Sunday after Easter, we are confronted with texts which tell us something about what it means to practice resurrection. Some of the ways they encourage us to practice resurrection run counter to the ways of the world around us. From each of the three Scriptures we read I want to pick one way we are encouraged to “practice resurrection,” to live as God’s Easter people.
In the reading from the Gospel of John, following the resurrection Jesus finds his way into a locked room where the disciples had gathered. They met behind locked doors because of their fear. Two of the things Jesus says to them: “Peace be with you…. Receive the Holy Spirit.”
Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people, means welcoming God’s Spirit and nurturing the spirit in our lives. In one of my sermons during Lent I quoted a young woman who had posted a blog about 15 reasons why she left the church. Here were a couple of her reasons. I left the church because my questions were seen as liabilities. I left the church because I believe the earth is 4.5 billion years old and that humans share a common ancestor with apes, which I was told was incompatible with my faith. I left the church because sometimes I doubt, and church can be the worst place to doubt. (Rachel Held Evans)
In response to her blog, many wrote encouraging her to find a mainline church. “But we’re avoiding all of those pitfalls. We’re inclusive. We’re not judgmental. We care for the community.” Rachel Held Evans responds: Well when was the last time you talked about why you are inclusive, why you embrace science, why you care for the poor? When was the last time you engaged in a serious, church-wide Bible study or launched a series on the spiritual disciplines? Evangelicals are used to being intensely engaged in their faith. If they don’t sense that your church offers them a safe place to wrestle and grow, they won’t come at all. I speak from my own experience, because, while there is much I love and appreciate about mainline denominations, when I visit, I always leave feeling like something’s missing. I miss that evangelical fire-in-the-belly that makes people talk about their faith with passion and conviction. I miss the familiarity with scripture and the intensive Bible studies. I miss the emphasis on cultivating a personal spirituality.
I share that not because we should cultivate our spirituality in response to one woman’s criticisms of mainline churches. I share that because I believe practicing resurrection means we will tend to our inner spiritual life. We will pray. We will engage Scriptures – with our head and our heart. We will explore spiritual disciplines. We will cultivate some fire in the belly, some passion for our faith. We strive for a faith that is passionate, compassionate and thoughtful. That’s counter-cultural. That’s practicing resurrection.
Practicing resurrection also has something to do with forgiveness. In the gospel reading, Jesus speaks of forgiveness. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” I John speaks both of our need to walk in the light, and of our need for forgiveness.
Over the years as a pastor, I have been asked frequently about forgiveness. It is a challenging topic. I am asked about forgiveness, in part, because people have experienced a lot of hurt in their lives, some of it very deep. People have been wounded, sometimes badly. People have been abused, if not physically or sexually, then perhaps psychologically. Then they hear things like, “Christians have to forgive.” Perhaps a Scripture is quoted, such as Colossians 3:13: Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. The directive seems clear, the feelings and experiences less so.
I think Biblical forgiveness is an ideal toward which we strive and a process in which we are engaged. It is not very helpful to think of it simply as a command or a directive. The language in John is interesting. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” I don’t think this makes forgiveness an optional resurrection practice. I think it provides some important complexity to those who simply say “you must forgive.” As Easter people we need to grapple with and be engaged with forgiveness, in all its messiness and complexity.
Here are some important things to remember along the way. Forgiveness does not mean we continue to put ourselves in positions where one who has hurt us can continue to hurt us. Forgiveness does not mean that we act like nothing ever happened. Forgiveness is as significant for our own well-being as for whatever relationship we want to have with the person we forgive. I deeply appreciate the words of Jack Kornfield on forgiveness. Forgiveness is a letting go of past suffering and betrayal, a release of the burden of the past and hate that we carry. Forgiveness honors the heart’s greatest dignity…. Forgiveness means giving up all hope of a better past. (The Art of Forgiveness, Lovingkindness and Peace, 20, 25)
For Christians, forgiveness is not simply something which we seek to enact, it is also something we receive. “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not is us. If we confess our sins, the One who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Maybe not language we use every day, but the idea is that we, too, fall short. We, too, need forgiveness. When we recognize that we need forgiveness sometimes, our own ability to forgive increases.
Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people, means welcoming God’s Spirit and nurturing the spirit in our lives. Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people means grappling with forgiveness. Practicing resurrection, being God’s Easter people also means tending the common good.
Here is a mouthful. The nexus of relationships that forms our existence is… given. We do not create these relationships; we experience them, being given with existence. And from this matrix come resources of grace that can carry us beyond the meanings of our own making, and alert us to goodness that is not of our own willing or defining. (Bernard Meland, Fallible Forms and Symbols, 151). This is a long way of saying that we come into a world in a web of relationships that we did not create, but from which we benefit. Over time, we contribute to that commons, that web of relationships, as well as benefit from it. This is the gift and reality of community, of the common good.
Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common…. Great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them. Is practicing resurrection counter to private property? I don’t think so, but this vision of the early Christian community should grab our attention. As a church we are not simply a collection of isolated individuals. Yes, we are individuals and the church should be helping us along our journey with Jesus. We are also together creating community, something from which we want many to benefit. In community we ask not only, “What’s in it for me?” we also ask, “What’s good for the community?”
This resurrection practice should affect our understanding of politics as well. There is a common good from which we benefit and too which we contribute and we need to think about what is good for the broader human community, the planetary community. Practicing resurrection is counter to a politics of hyper-individualism.
Christ is risen. Practice resurrection. A story.
When our daughter Beth was in India, she was traveling by train and there met a woman from Paris, a woman around age 50. They began talking and the woman was explaining that she was in India to visit friends, and that she had been there before and gave Beth some tips on traveling in India. Anyway, they had a nice conversation, and a more extended conversation than they might have had otherwise because the train was late. Arriving at their destination, the woman became concerned. She had not been able to get a hold of her friends, who were not sure just when she was coming. It was now late, and the woman was not sure where she was going to stay. Beth told the woman that she had a nice hotel room and would be glad to put her up for the night. She could share the large bed. The woman was deeply grateful and told Beth if ever she was in Paris to look her up.
Beth had told us this story, and Beth, Sarah and Julie discussed it again as they traveled to the Twin Cities to take Beth to her flight to Uganda. Julie said she was both proud of Beth, but concerned for that kind of behavior. Beth said, “You know, Mom, I was raised by you and Dad, raised in the church, and I often ask what would Jesus do, and I think Jesus would have invited that woman to spend the night and share the bed.” Then they all laughed because, well, there is sort of a funny side to that. But Jesus makes a difference. That’s the point.
Christ is risen. Practice resurrection. Amen.
Friday, April 13, 2012
More Than a Feeling
Sermon preached Easter Sunday April 6, 2012
Texts: I Corinthians 15:3-11; Mark 16:1-8
So a week or so ago I went to check our church web site and received a warning – “the web site might be infected.” Thinking that this might be some kind of mistake I tried another internet browser whose warning was starker – big red circle with a subtraction sign inside. Just to really check it out, I tried to get to our site on my home computer, and my anti-virus would not even let me go there. WARNING - Yikes. Just before Easter and a web site issue. Thankfully, we were able to get the site cleaned out, though some problems still may need work.
Warnings. Here are a few for you (Power Point slide show - see photos below).
Warning. Maybe Easter should come with a warning sign. WARNING: You may never be the same again. WARNING: The same power that raised Jesus wants to work in you. WARNING: God wants to mess with your life.
When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” Ordinary events – grieving after a death, the sun rising, concern about heavy lifting. The women wished to perfume Jesus perhaps like we perfume our sanctuary on Easter morning with lilies. And what happens? The stone is rolled away and a young man in a white robe is sitting there. “And they were alarmed.” The young man speaks: “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here.” So they fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone.
WARNING: With God around, an ordinary morning can be filled with alarm, amazement, maybe even terror. God wants to mess with your life. But there is a bit of wry humor in Mark’s gospel. “They said nothing to anyone.” Yet here is their story. You know what - somebody told! These women had their lives changed that morning, and they could not keep it a secret forever. Those listening to Mark’s Gospel, probably Gentile Christians who knew of the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans and who may have been experiencing some of the persecution of Nero themselves, those first hearers of Mark’s gospel had had their lives changed because the story continued to be told.
One of the most popular movies in current release is The Hunger Games. It is a futuristic story about a nation called Panem. There are echoes of imperial Rome in the story. Annually in Panem, each of the outlying 12 districts must send a young man and a young woman to compete in a contest called “The Hunger Game” – a contest to the death with only one survivor/winner. Reflecting with the producer of the games, Panem’s president says: Why do we have a winner? Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous. A spark is fine, as long as it is contained.
WARNING: Easter is about hope, a lot of hope, hope that is more than a feeling. Hope as a feeling is important and it matters. Feeling a little hopeful makes the day a little brighter. Feeling a little hopeful means we may try something a bit new – a new restaurant, a new book, a new music group, a new hobby. “I hope I like this.” Sometimes we are disappointed, but there are other foods, books, movies, music, hobbies. The Twins season opened on Friday, and one of the announcers said that opening day is the most hopeful day of the baseball season. I hope the Twins have a better year this year, but if it isn’t so good, well it won’t devastate me.
Easter hope is something different, something more, more than a feeling – and those of you hoping to hear the Boston song this morning will be disappointed. Easter hope is hope as a wild energy that changes our lives, a wind that blows in our lives and carries us to new places and in new directions, a fire that burns hot and bright, illuminating the world in new ways and burning away the dross. Easter hope can take an ordinary morning and leave us amazed and astonished and maybe even momentarily speechless. Just when we think we have Jesus all nicely wrapped up and perfumed, we find that he is not exactly where we thought, exactly what we thought, exactly who we thought.
Paul experienced a living Jesus, a risen Christ in his life. He believes his experience of this risen, living Jesus was just like that of the first disciples. This experience changed him profoundly. “By the grace of God I am what I am, and God’s grace has not been in vain.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wanted in his life to follow the risen Christ. It moved him from teacher and theologian in a state Church in Germany, to working in opposition to the Hitler government. For his opposition, Bonhoeffer was arrested and eventually executed by the Nazis. In his book Discipleship, Bonhoeffer wrote about following Jesus, and living with the wild energy of hope. Where will the call of discipleship lead those who follow it? What decisions and painful separations will it entail? We must take this question to him who alone knows the answer. Only Jesus Christ, who bids us follow him, knows where the path will lead. But we know that it will be a path of mercy beyond measure. Discipleship is joy. (40)
Christ is risen. Christ is alive. The wild energy of hope has been unleashed. The winds of the Spirit are blowing. The fires of the Spirit have been ignited. WARNING – this could change your life. This we also know – the way of Easter, the way of Jesus, the way of the wild energy of hope, is a way of joy.
Writer Anne Lamott has been changed by the risen Christ, by the energy of hope that is Easter. Easter is profound, she writes. Easter says that love is more powerful than death; bigger than the dark…. Darkness is our context, and Easter’s context: without it, you couldn’t see the light. Hope is not about proving. It’s about choosing to believe this one thing, that love is bigger than any grim, bleak [stuff] anyone can throw at us. (Plan B, 268, 275)
Easter is about hope that is more than a feeling. It is about hope that trusts that love is strong and beautiful. It is about a hope that produces joy. It is about hope that is a wild energy, a wild ride, trying to follow Jesus and the way of Jesus, knowing that when we get too perfumey about him, he has gone someplace else and invites us to follow in astonishment and amazement.
Easter should come with warning signs. WARNING: THERE IS A LOT OF HOPE HERE AND A LOT OF HOPE CAN BE DANGEROUS. WARNING: WINDS OF THE SPIRIT BLOWING HERE. WARNING: GOD WANTS TO MESS WITH YOUR LIFE.
Knowing this, maybe you should have stayed away. Unless…
Unless there is an ache in your heart for something more, a yearning to be something more.
Unless, unless there is a pain, a wound, a grief in your life that needs penetrating healing.
Unless, unless you feel discouraged, weary down to your bones, weary down to your soul.
Unless, unless you feel all alone, with no direction home, like a complete unknown.
Unless, unless you seek forgiveness and have found it hard to come by.
Unless, unless there are patterns in your life that need breaking so that you can be free to love and grow and flourish.
Unless, unless you’ve been tempted to give up searching for a better world and give in to cynicism.
Unless, unless you’re puzzled by the human condition, capable of such beauty and tenderness and kindness and such horror and cruelty and brutality.
Unless, that is, you need a hope that is more than a feeling, a hope that is a wild energy, a whirlwind, a blazing fire, a hope that says that love is stronger than any grim, bleak stuff anyone can throw at us, a hope rooted in a God who long ago surprised, amazed, astonished three women going to check on their dead friends grave. He has been raised; he is not here. They were speechless, but only for a while.
I love serendipity, coincidences that are sheer grace. Early this week I was listening to some music. A group of musicians have set some Woody Guthrie lyrics to music and released a CD entitled “New Multitudes.” The first song contained these lyrics. Don’t let any earthly calamity knock your dreamer and hoping machine out of order. That’s Easter, a hope that is more than a feeling, a hope that changes everything, even if over time, a hope that keeps on even if calamity strikes, a hope that keeps your dreamer and hoping machine in order. Let that hope into your soul and you can never be sure exactly where its wild energy may take you. You’ve been warned, but let hope and the God of hope in anyway. Christ is risen. Amen.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Going Mobile
Sermon preached March 25, 2012
Texts: Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:20-33
Here is a song about the Christian spiritual life – “Going Mobile” The Who.
Going Mobile
Here is a story about the Christian spiritual life – “The Carpenter and the Unbuilder.” (story)
Once upon a time there was a man living in a certain kingdom who received an invitation from his king to come to dinner. Something inside him was excited as never before by the invitation. Something was afraid as well. Would he have the right clothes to wear? Would his manners be good enough for his lord's table? What would they talk about when they were not eating? Above all, the man was frightened by the long journey to the king's castle.
So what did the man do? Well, he spent one month deciding what to wear and buying the clothes he did not already have. He spent two months learning the rules of etiquette and practicing them as he ate. He spent three months reading up on all the latest issues faced by the kingdom so he would have something to say.
Finally he faced the journey itself. By trade the man was a carpenter. He built small houses and extra outhouses and garages better than anyone else. After he had packed the clothing and food he thought he would need for the journey, he had room for only a little more. So he decided to pack a few tools, enough to permit him to build adequate overnight shelter on the journey. Then he started out.
The first day he traveled through the morning and early afternoon, stopping only to eat some lunch. Then he set about constructing a rough shelter to spend the night in. After a few hours labor he had a small, safe, dry place to sleep. The next morning as he was about to start out again, he looked at the shelter he had built. He began to notice places where it could be improved. So instead of resuming the journey right away, he began to make improvements on his little dwelling. Well, one thing led to another, garage to kitchen to indoor plumbing, and so on. Soon, he had pretty much forgotten about the invitation and the journey.
Meanwhile the king was beginning to wonder about the man. And so, as kings are able to do, he arranged for another person who was also traveling to the dinner to stop by and see how the man was coming along.
When the king's friend found him, the carpenter was living in his second house. He had sold the first one to someone, remembered the invitation, and moved on for a day or so. However, he had soon settled in and built an even bigger and better house on the profits he had made from the sale of his first one. The carpenter was only too happy to invite the visitor in for lunch; but while he was content to accept the offer of food, the visitor said he preferred to eat out in the yard under a tree.
"Is there a reason you don't want to come inside?" asked the carpenter, immediately wondering if his house wasn't quite right in some way.
"Why yes," replied the visitor. "You see, I am on a journey to have dinner with the king of our land. It is important for me to stay on the journey. Perhaps after lunch you would like to come with me?"
"What you say sounds familiar to me," said the carpenter. "I think I too received an invitation to have dinner with the king, but I have been a little bit uncertain of the way."
"I know," responded the stranger. "I was once uncertain as well. As a matter of fact, once I was a carpenter just like you. I too wanted to build safe places along the way to stay in. One day, another person on the journey helped me learn how to unbuild instead of to build. He helped me leave the house I was living in and trust the journey itself. I was worried about following the right path. He told me that there were a number of paths that would lead to the dinner. The king had set it up that way, and the king had also set up warnings along the wrong paths. The important thing was simply to put one foot in front of the other with love and trust. I was also worried about what I had left behind. To this he said that the king had seen to it that everything worth saving would be at the castle waiting for me."
"What you say is certainly of comfort. It helps to know that you have been just like me," said the carpenter.
"Well then, why don't we let go of this house and get on with the journey?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Can I sleep on it?"
"I suppose."
"May I fix a bed for you?"
"No," countered the visitor. "I will just stay out here under the tree. It is easier to notice the wonderful things the king has put along the way when you aren't looking out from inside something you have put up to protect yourself."
The unbuilder waited outside all night. The next morning the carpenter indeed had decided to resume the journey. Together they prepared to set out.
"Well," asked the carpenter. "Which way shall we go?"
"Which way seems right to you?" replied the unbuilder.
"I'm not sure."
"I'll tell you what. Let's just sit here a few minutes and think hard about the king. Remember the stories you have been told about him. Remember how much you love him. Remember how much he loves you. When you have remembered as clearly as you think you can, consider the paths that lie before you and see which one seems to satisfy your longing for, and remembrance of, the king. Let your desire to be with the king become more powerful in you than your uncertainty and fear about choosing the right or wrong path."
Silently they sat through the morning in the carpenter's front yard. Slowly it began to seem as though they were already on the journey. As that feeling grew and grew, it suddenly didn't seem like any decision needed to be made; it just happened. With a deep sense of freedom they were off.
Many of the days went just like that, new steps out of silent beginnings and pure desires. They simply waited until the sense of journeying wrapped itself around even their waiting, and then they were off without worrying whether they were on the "right" path or not. In the stillness of their hearts they made room for the path and the path seemed to come to them.
Of course the carpenter still felt the need to build a home from time to time. The unbuilder made sure he understood what he was doing and then let him do it if he really wanted to. While the carpenter labored, the unbuilder, his guide and friend, would continue the silent waiting in the yard under a tree, and soon they would unbuild yet another house and begin the journey again.
In the meantime the king kept the food warm, which he was very good at doing.
The Christian spiritual life is a journey – going mobile. The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus, the walk with God is on-going, continuous and it is a process of building, unbuilding and rebuilding.
“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit,” Jesus says. A journey, a process.
“This is the covenant that I will make… after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts,” these word from Jeremiah. The journey is about a new heart, always a new heart.
In thinking about this journey of faith I think about the words of Gandalf the wizard: “My dear Bilbo… You are not the hobbit that you were.”
In thinking about this journey of faith I think about the wise doctor, Dr. Seuss. Congratulations! Today is your day. Your off to Great Places! You’re off and away! You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes…. Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too. OH! THE PLACES YOU’LL GO!
Moving back to Duluth six and a half years ago has been fascinating. I grew up here as many of you know. Oh, the places you’ll go – well, in some ways I’ve not gone very far. But things are different, and I don’t mean just in the usual ways. Yes, I am older than when I last lived here in 1982. And I have children – adult children. The junior high I attended (where Dick Wallin was the principal) is now the high school I attended (where Irv St. John and Joe Berini were on staff). The grocery store where I worked while in high school and college is now a fitness center. Things are different.
But the biggest differences are inside. That’s where the journey has really gone places. I am not the same hobbit I was. With God’s Spirit working on me and in me and with me I am sometimes happening too. Oh, the places I’ve gone. I think I’ve learned some things along the way.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is a journey about passions, about the heart. The new heart that God creates in us is a heart that is soft, supple and can be broken. As a teenager, I knew what it was to have a broken heart, but the kind of heartbreak God continues to create is a heart that breaks for others, that is passionate about the well-being of others – the lonely, the left out, the hungry, the suffering, the poor, the grieving. My heart particularly breaks for those who have been hurt by religion, church words that have wounded. I want to help them find a way back to God, to Jesus, to community. The journey of faith is about a new heart, always a new heart, a heart that can break, but a heart that breaks open, a heart passionate about God and the good.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is a journey about compassion – about being with, about feeling with, about seeing with. When I first became a pastor, I was often uncomfortable in really difficult situations. What would I say, what could I say to be of help? I’ve learned that what matters most is hanging in there with people, even when it is hard – trying to feel with them, see what they see, even when we may disagree. The compassionate heart is often also the courageous heart.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is about being open to questions. I was saddened the other day when I read a blog post that a friend and colleague linked on Facebook. In the blog a young woman shared 15 reasons why she left the church. Here are a couple of her reasons. I left the church because my questions were seen as liabilities. I left the church because I believe the earth is 4.5 billion years old and that humans share a common ancestor with apes, which I was told was incompatible with my faith. I left the church because sometimes I doubt, and church can be the worst place to doubt. (Rachel Held Evans) Questions are an important part of the journey.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is about taking the next step. We are on a way. The earliest followers of Jesus were called “the Way.” Congratulations! Today is your day. Your off to Great Places! You’re off and away! You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes - - - brains and feet and hearts and minds and souls that need to take the next step. Sometimes the next step is to build a resting place for a time. Sometimes the next step is to unbuild and move on – unbuild our usual ways of thinking or doing Christian faith. We are going mobile.
Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. This is the way of faith, the journey with Jesus – dying and rising – build, unbuild, rebuild - - - going mobile.
This is the covenant that I will make… I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. This is the way of faith, the journey with Jesus – a new heart, always a new heart - - - going mobile.
But oh the places you’ll go, many of them inside, deep inside. When we have gone places inside the familiar places outside are never the same. I think of the words of T. S. Eliot (Four Quartets, 58, 59).
What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
…
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And to know the place for the first time.
“My dear Bilbo… You are not the hobbit that you were.” On the journey with Jesus, none of us ever is. Amen.
Texts: Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:20-33
Here is a song about the Christian spiritual life – “Going Mobile” The Who.
Going Mobile
Here is a story about the Christian spiritual life – “The Carpenter and the Unbuilder.” (story)
Once upon a time there was a man living in a certain kingdom who received an invitation from his king to come to dinner. Something inside him was excited as never before by the invitation. Something was afraid as well. Would he have the right clothes to wear? Would his manners be good enough for his lord's table? What would they talk about when they were not eating? Above all, the man was frightened by the long journey to the king's castle.
So what did the man do? Well, he spent one month deciding what to wear and buying the clothes he did not already have. He spent two months learning the rules of etiquette and practicing them as he ate. He spent three months reading up on all the latest issues faced by the kingdom so he would have something to say.
Finally he faced the journey itself. By trade the man was a carpenter. He built small houses and extra outhouses and garages better than anyone else. After he had packed the clothing and food he thought he would need for the journey, he had room for only a little more. So he decided to pack a few tools, enough to permit him to build adequate overnight shelter on the journey. Then he started out.
The first day he traveled through the morning and early afternoon, stopping only to eat some lunch. Then he set about constructing a rough shelter to spend the night in. After a few hours labor he had a small, safe, dry place to sleep. The next morning as he was about to start out again, he looked at the shelter he had built. He began to notice places where it could be improved. So instead of resuming the journey right away, he began to make improvements on his little dwelling. Well, one thing led to another, garage to kitchen to indoor plumbing, and so on. Soon, he had pretty much forgotten about the invitation and the journey.
Meanwhile the king was beginning to wonder about the man. And so, as kings are able to do, he arranged for another person who was also traveling to the dinner to stop by and see how the man was coming along.
When the king's friend found him, the carpenter was living in his second house. He had sold the first one to someone, remembered the invitation, and moved on for a day or so. However, he had soon settled in and built an even bigger and better house on the profits he had made from the sale of his first one. The carpenter was only too happy to invite the visitor in for lunch; but while he was content to accept the offer of food, the visitor said he preferred to eat out in the yard under a tree.
"Is there a reason you don't want to come inside?" asked the carpenter, immediately wondering if his house wasn't quite right in some way.
"Why yes," replied the visitor. "You see, I am on a journey to have dinner with the king of our land. It is important for me to stay on the journey. Perhaps after lunch you would like to come with me?"
"What you say sounds familiar to me," said the carpenter. "I think I too received an invitation to have dinner with the king, but I have been a little bit uncertain of the way."
"I know," responded the stranger. "I was once uncertain as well. As a matter of fact, once I was a carpenter just like you. I too wanted to build safe places along the way to stay in. One day, another person on the journey helped me learn how to unbuild instead of to build. He helped me leave the house I was living in and trust the journey itself. I was worried about following the right path. He told me that there were a number of paths that would lead to the dinner. The king had set it up that way, and the king had also set up warnings along the wrong paths. The important thing was simply to put one foot in front of the other with love and trust. I was also worried about what I had left behind. To this he said that the king had seen to it that everything worth saving would be at the castle waiting for me."
"What you say is certainly of comfort. It helps to know that you have been just like me," said the carpenter.
"Well then, why don't we let go of this house and get on with the journey?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Can I sleep on it?"
"I suppose."
"May I fix a bed for you?"
"No," countered the visitor. "I will just stay out here under the tree. It is easier to notice the wonderful things the king has put along the way when you aren't looking out from inside something you have put up to protect yourself."
The unbuilder waited outside all night. The next morning the carpenter indeed had decided to resume the journey. Together they prepared to set out.
"Well," asked the carpenter. "Which way shall we go?"
"Which way seems right to you?" replied the unbuilder.
"I'm not sure."
"I'll tell you what. Let's just sit here a few minutes and think hard about the king. Remember the stories you have been told about him. Remember how much you love him. Remember how much he loves you. When you have remembered as clearly as you think you can, consider the paths that lie before you and see which one seems to satisfy your longing for, and remembrance of, the king. Let your desire to be with the king become more powerful in you than your uncertainty and fear about choosing the right or wrong path."
Silently they sat through the morning in the carpenter's front yard. Slowly it began to seem as though they were already on the journey. As that feeling grew and grew, it suddenly didn't seem like any decision needed to be made; it just happened. With a deep sense of freedom they were off.
Many of the days went just like that, new steps out of silent beginnings and pure desires. They simply waited until the sense of journeying wrapped itself around even their waiting, and then they were off without worrying whether they were on the "right" path or not. In the stillness of their hearts they made room for the path and the path seemed to come to them.
Of course the carpenter still felt the need to build a home from time to time. The unbuilder made sure he understood what he was doing and then let him do it if he really wanted to. While the carpenter labored, the unbuilder, his guide and friend, would continue the silent waiting in the yard under a tree, and soon they would unbuild yet another house and begin the journey again.
In the meantime the king kept the food warm, which he was very good at doing.
The Christian spiritual life is a journey – going mobile. The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus, the walk with God is on-going, continuous and it is a process of building, unbuilding and rebuilding.
“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit,” Jesus says. A journey, a process.
“This is the covenant that I will make… after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts,” these word from Jeremiah. The journey is about a new heart, always a new heart.
In thinking about this journey of faith I think about the words of Gandalf the wizard: “My dear Bilbo… You are not the hobbit that you were.”
In thinking about this journey of faith I think about the wise doctor, Dr. Seuss. Congratulations! Today is your day. Your off to Great Places! You’re off and away! You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes…. Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too. OH! THE PLACES YOU’LL GO!
Moving back to Duluth six and a half years ago has been fascinating. I grew up here as many of you know. Oh, the places you’ll go – well, in some ways I’ve not gone very far. But things are different, and I don’t mean just in the usual ways. Yes, I am older than when I last lived here in 1982. And I have children – adult children. The junior high I attended (where Dick Wallin was the principal) is now the high school I attended (where Irv St. John and Joe Berini were on staff). The grocery store where I worked while in high school and college is now a fitness center. Things are different.
But the biggest differences are inside. That’s where the journey has really gone places. I am not the same hobbit I was. With God’s Spirit working on me and in me and with me I am sometimes happening too. Oh, the places I’ve gone. I think I’ve learned some things along the way.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is a journey about passions, about the heart. The new heart that God creates in us is a heart that is soft, supple and can be broken. As a teenager, I knew what it was to have a broken heart, but the kind of heartbreak God continues to create is a heart that breaks for others, that is passionate about the well-being of others – the lonely, the left out, the hungry, the suffering, the poor, the grieving. My heart particularly breaks for those who have been hurt by religion, church words that have wounded. I want to help them find a way back to God, to Jesus, to community. The journey of faith is about a new heart, always a new heart, a heart that can break, but a heart that breaks open, a heart passionate about God and the good.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is a journey about compassion – about being with, about feeling with, about seeing with. When I first became a pastor, I was often uncomfortable in really difficult situations. What would I say, what could I say to be of help? I’ve learned that what matters most is hanging in there with people, even when it is hard – trying to feel with them, see what they see, even when we may disagree. The compassionate heart is often also the courageous heart.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is about being open to questions. I was saddened the other day when I read a blog post that a friend and colleague linked on Facebook. In the blog a young woman shared 15 reasons why she left the church. Here are a couple of her reasons. I left the church because my questions were seen as liabilities. I left the church because I believe the earth is 4.5 billion years old and that humans share a common ancestor with apes, which I was told was incompatible with my faith. I left the church because sometimes I doubt, and church can be the worst place to doubt. (Rachel Held Evans) Questions are an important part of the journey.
The journey of faith, the journey with Jesus is about taking the next step. We are on a way. The earliest followers of Jesus were called “the Way.” Congratulations! Today is your day. Your off to Great Places! You’re off and away! You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes - - - brains and feet and hearts and minds and souls that need to take the next step. Sometimes the next step is to build a resting place for a time. Sometimes the next step is to unbuild and move on – unbuild our usual ways of thinking or doing Christian faith. We are going mobile.
Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. This is the way of faith, the journey with Jesus – dying and rising – build, unbuild, rebuild - - - going mobile.
This is the covenant that I will make… I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. This is the way of faith, the journey with Jesus – a new heart, always a new heart - - - going mobile.
But oh the places you’ll go, many of them inside, deep inside. When we have gone places inside the familiar places outside are never the same. I think of the words of T. S. Eliot (Four Quartets, 58, 59).
What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
…
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And to know the place for the first time.
“My dear Bilbo… You are not the hobbit that you were.” On the journey with Jesus, none of us ever is. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
