Expanding Our Vision

Text: Acts 10: 1-5, 9-15, 19-20, 24, 27-28, 34-36, 44-48 

Eighty five years ago, I probably would not have been welcomed in this pulpit. 

As a woman, ordination was out of the question. 

A combination of tradition and a patriarchal society and a way of reading the scriptures precluded the church from welcoming women as preachers and pastors.

It still does in some places and traditions.

But here I stand… ordained, my calling from the Holy Spirit confirmed by the church.

As a young(ish) woman, I have always lived in a church that ordained women.  I have always been a part of a church that valued the contributions women made in ministry, in leadership, and in the world.  It has been a given.

But I also know what it took to get here. 

Late this spring, folks from Immanuel joined with other churches in our circuit to read together through a series of essays called, “I’m Black.  I’m Christian. I’m Methodist.”   

While their experiences were contemporary, these pastors wove into their narrative the history and legacy of exclusion and discrimination of our church.  While some Black Methodists chose to leave, for those that remained within this denomination, separation and exclusion and discrimination continued to be our legacy. 

Our church divided over slavery, rather than taking a stand for the full humanity of our siblings.

When we finally re-united, it was as a segregated church, with black churches and clergy all set apart in the Central Jurisdiction until 1968. 

The impact of that structural racism continues to be felt today. 

What surprised us the most as we read through that book of essays, however, were parallels between these stories of exclusion and discrimination and our current debate within the church about the lives and leadership of our LGBTQ+ siblings. 

I am here today because how we understood God’s call in the life of women changed. 

In the same way, we have claimed a more expansive vision of what it means to be the church from other cultural and ethnic backgrounds. 

The church is more diverse and beautiful and powerful today because we have recognized how the Holy Spirit is moving through one another.

I wonder where God is going to change our minds next…

This isn’t a new question…

It is a question as old as the church. 

As we journey through the book of Acts, we see God’s Kingdom widening.

From Jerusalem, to Samaria, to the ends of the earth.

The faithful Jewish disciples begin to welcome and share the good news with those on the margins of the community…

And those who are converts in more far flung places…

And now we have a story about God speaking into the life of a Gentile and how God moves Peter to share the good news.

As the leader of the apostles, Peter had been visiting all of the house-churches where the followers of the Way were gathering in the wider area, especially on the coastal plains of Sharon. 

He had just been to Lydda and then spent some time in Joppa.

And it was there, moved by the Spirit, that Peter had raised a faithful servant named Tabitha from the dead. 

He was able to do amazing things, working and teaching in that community. 

He was faithfully serving God and thought he knew exactly what that meant. 

He presumed that he understood the rules of faith.

But just like Saul in the chapter before, Peter was about to have his world turned upside down yet again.

He was about to catch a glimpse of the scope and the breadth and the depth of God’s love for all people.

Our story today starts in the home of a gentile.  A captain of the Roman army, named Cornelius, receives a vision from God and sends for Peter.

Let’s talk a little bit about this guy and what it means…

A Gentile is anyone who is not Jewish, someone who was not a part of the family of Israel, either through birth or conversion.

An outsider… as far as the faith was concerned.

There were gentiles, like Cornelius, who were described as “God-fearers” or “God-worshippers” which meant that they would have practiced elements of the Jewish faith and worshipped the God of the Israelites, but they were limited in their participation.

The temple had many different courts, and the requirements to move further and further into the temple, towards the holy of holies, left many out. The big open area you see in the photo is called the Court of the Gentiles. That was the only part of the temple Gentiles could enter, divided from even the steps leading up to the building by a wall. 

These folks would not have kept the same ritual laws and for that reason, it was forbidden for Gentiles to enter these holy places or for Jews to enter the homes of Gentiles… lest they encounter something that would have made them unclean.

But many faithful god-fearing folks like Cornelius continued to show up. They continued worshipping God from those outer courts. In spite of the barriers, they wanted a relationship with God.

And God wanted a relationship with them.

So God prepares Peter’s heart for a more expansive vision of who was included in the Kingdom of God.

Before he is summoned to Caesarea and the home of Cornelius, Peter is given a vision of the clean and unclean joining together and he is asked in the vision to eat something that is unclean.

He doesn’t want to embrace it.

Everything in his very being tells him that it is wrong.

The holy was being profaned by the ordinary.

And then the voice in his vision speaks:  “Never consider unclean what God has made pure.”

There is a knock at the door and the Holy Spirit whispers to him… go.  

Peter is summoned to the home of Cornelius, and although he was not allowed by Jewish custom to enter, he did.

He entered the home of a gentile and broke bread with the unclean. 

And when Cornelius asked about why God had brought him there, Peter shares the good news of Jesus Christ.

As he preaches to the entire gathered household, the Holy Spirit descends upon them and they receive the gift of faith.

The profane, the ordinary, the unclean… these people who were outside of all that Peter knew to be holy… the spirit and presence of God filled their lives. 

He and his companions could see it… feel it…

And Peter exclaims:   “These people have received the Holy Spirit just as we have. Surely no one can stop them from being baptized with water, can they?”

None of the disciples could deny their gifts.

Water was brought and Cornelius and his whole family were baptized on the spot…

They were part of the family of God…

At various points throughout the history of the church, faithful folk stood up and exclaimed:  These people have received the Holy Spirit… just like we did – How can we stop them from being baptized? 

How can we deny them a place at the table? 

How can we continue to reject their leadership when God has so clearly spoken in their lives?

John Wesley, the founder of Methodism was against women preaching in principle… until he witnessed the Holy Spirit working through the lives of women like Sarah Crosby, Grace Murry, and Hannah Ball.  He relented and licensed them for preaching in the circuits across England.

Likewise, Wesley was a staunch opponent of slavery the very first Discipline of the church prohibited members from owning slaves. 

In fact, that Methodist egalitarian spirit is what drew large numbers of Black people to the movement in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. 

As Rev. Erin Beasley writes: “Under Methodist, all Christians became brothers and sisters despite their background… “ and no matter their gender, ethnicity, or class. 

And yet, even as God pushes us to expand our vision of who is included, that long-memory of what we had believed is hard to shake off.

It is not easy to let go of control.

Or upend our expectations.

Or give way for others to lead in new ways. 

Sometimes the witness of the Holy Spirit is sometimes rejected by those who are trying to follow God’s will. 

Even after John Wesley licensed women to preach, it was not until 1956 that women were granted full clergy rights in the church.

The anti-slavery position of the early Methodists quickly became more lenient as they sought to establish more congregations in the South. Black ministers like Richard Allen were not allowed to be ordained as elders… requiring them to be supervised by white clergy… eventually leading these folks to leave the church.  

It is hard to let go of our traditions, our rules, our power. 

We hang on to what we know and understand. 

There is an uproar in Jerusalem when the hear about what Peter had done. 

The apostles summon him back to the city to account for his actions. 

They start with criticism. They launch into accusations. They read off the rules.

I can imagine their frustration growing as they start to wrestle with the implications of what has just happened.

The leaders of the early church, like Peter just days and weeks before, believed that faith meant one thing, and God was trying to show them it meant something else.

It doesn’t stop the Holy Spirit from moving however.

Not only does God act by giving us these unique and undeniable experiences of grace and power and Holy Spirit-led transformation… like Peter experienced with Cornelius…

But God also expands the vision of the whole church by calling those who have had these life-altering experiences to tell their story.

The apostles were furious and demanded an explanation.

Peter gave them one.

He told them about his vision.

He told them about how God led him to the house of Cornelius.

He connected what he had experienced of Jesus Christ and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit with what he witnessed first-hand in Caesarea.

In chapter 11, verse 16-17 he testifies: “I remembered the Lord’s words: ‘John will baptize with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.’ If God gave them the same gift he gave us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, then who am I? Could I stand in God’s way?”.

“I really am learning that God doesn’t show partiality to one group of people over another,” Peter says.

I give thanks that the apostles rejoiced in his witness. 

They came to understand that God wants to be in relationship with all of us.

With the whole of creation.

With you and me.

And we keep learning that lesson…

We keep discovering and remembering and learning all over again just how far our vision needs to expand…

With black and white and brown.

With young and old, and gay and straight,

Folks who are married and single and divorced and widowed.

cis-gender, transgender, and non-binary folks,

with those struggling with mental health and those who love them.

With life-long Americans and with people who have just arrived in our country.

Are we there yet?

No.

Have we sometimes taken steps backwards? 

Absolutely.

Like Peter, we are still learning that God shows no partiality to one group of people or another.

It has been a hard lesson… centuries and millenia in the making…

But God keeps pushing us… stretching us… calling us into a more expansive vision of what the church can and should be. 

God is God.

And we can fight it.

We can resist it.

But God will keep pouring out the Holy Spirit on whomever God chooses. 

Real Church is Messy

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Acts 5:1-11, 6:1-7

This summer, as we study together through the book of Acts, I wish that we could talk about every single verse… but we simply don’t have time.

So I hope that you are checking out our daily video devotion – which can be found on our facebook page OR on our church website. 

In fact, we made it even easier to find on our website… just go to iumc.org and scroll to the bottom and you’ll find the latest three posted right there!

Today, we are skipping over chapter three and four and diving into more of what it meant for these first faithful folks to live with one another.

Two weeks ago, our Director of Youth Ministry stood here and shared this beautiful, rosy picture of a church community that seemed perfect. 

They devoted themselves to prayer and teaching and fellowship and sold everything they had and make sure everyone’s needs were met. 

And, if you are anything like me, we hold our own imperfect, human community up to that standard and get a bit discouraged. 

But never fear… things were not as perfect as they seemed.

This community was messy.

After all, it was full of humans, too.

Real humans with real problems. 

People who are dishonest.

Others who are ignored.

There is jealousy, and complaining, and growing pains.

It is church, after all. 

So let’s dive into the dirt and the muck as problems of the church appear in chapters 5 and 6.

First, we’ve got a problem that results from dishonesty and disrespect.

In our short video clip from The Bible Project, we are reminded once again of the temple. 

God’s presence once led the people through the wilderness.

Then it was understood to dwell in the temple in Jerusalem… a building… and people would travel to Jerusalem to encounter God’s holiness.

But the story of Pentecost is how God’s presence now fills individuals through the power of the Holy Spirit.

The Body of Christ is the temple.

I am the temple of God.

YOU are the temple of God.

And so we have these lovely, good, and holy things happening that would you would expect in God’s presence… teaching and fellowship and reaching out to the needy. 

But when we say that something is holy, we also have to acknowledge the danger.

We stand in God’s presence with fear, with awe, with trembling…

There is a line I love in “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” by CS Lewis which captures this idea perfectly. 

The lion, Aslan, is a Christ figure in the narrative and one of the children is apprehensive…

“Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”…
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver… “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.  He’s the King; I tell you.”

God isn’t safe. 

But God is good. 

And God calls us to a better way of living. 

We don’t have to be perfect.

But we do need to bring our full selves into this community.

We can’t simply dip our toes into the water and pretend. 

In fact, the story of Ananias and Sapphira is not about how this couple should have sold all they had and given it to the community.

It was about the fact that they lied.

They could have chosen NOT to sell their property. 

Or they could have sold the property and chosen to be up front about keeping some of the funds.

But they wanted all of the benefits and glory without actually doing the work. 

As Peter says, they lied to the community and they lied to the Holy Spirit.

They disrespected the presence of God that was dwelling in their midst and are struck dead.

I started thinking about that scene from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark when the Nazis think that they can open the Ark of the Covenant and take the power of God for themselves…

Dr. Jones and Marian know that God’s power is holy… They shut their eyes and refuse to look.

But the Nazis have no respect for God… only what God can do for them… and when they reach in to take it with fury and fire, God’s presence overwhelms them and their faces melt off. 

Just like the priests in Leviticus who disrespected God in the temple. 

You can’t use the presence of God for your own selfish purposes and you shouldn’t reach beyond your own limitations. 

When I think about how we might apply this lesson to our relationships with one another today, I think about that idea of respecting the presence of God that dwells within each of us.

We need to respect one another enough to be honest.

If you aren’t able to say yes, then you should have the freedom and ability to say no.

We don’t have to pretend, but can simply bring ourselves and our gifts into this community without apologizing.

Whether they are gifts of finances, or time, or abilities and talents that you might offer.

You don’t have to sell everything you have to be included, or sign up to serve on every committee. 

In fact, as we heard in one of our daily devotions earlier this week, you don’t even have to have a penny to your name.

Honor what you have. 

Offer what you can.

God’s Spirit dwells within you and your gifts, however big or small, matter.

A flip side to this is that each one of us is called to honor and respect the gifts of others.

Sometimes we find ourselves in that ugly, jealous, comparative mode.

We think that someone is offering too little… and then rub it in or make them feel guilty. 

Or we get overwhelmed by what someone else can do and become ashamed about our own value.

God’s presence is working through every person. 

Be grateful and honor the faithfulness of each person you encounter in this community.

Our job is not to compare what other people can do… but to celebrate what every person offers. 

The second real community problem that this early church struggles with has to do with some growing pains and, to be honest, some discriminatory behavior. 

As the community kept growing, suddenly they began to notice there were differences among them. 

It was all nice and good and warm and fuzzy to be able to hear in new languages on that day of Pentecost… but it’s a whole other kind of conversation to figure out how all of these different groups are actually going to live together. 

And some people began to raise real and honest questions about equity in their midst. 

While it might not have been intentioned, the widows who came from a more Greek, or Hellenistic cultural background, were being neglected compared to those who identified more with the Hebrew culture. 

Someone stood up, and basically said, “Greek widows matter, too.”

If we are going to be a community that takes care of the needs of everyone, then we need to do what we say.

And when we aren’t living up to that value, if we are overlooking someone, then we need to address it. 


What I love about this story is that there is an obvious flaw and problem in the community.

But the leadership listens and calls together the people to solve the problem. 

And then they think outside the box.

They don’t just add a task to the job description of those who were already leading, but come up with a new and creative solution that actually allows more people to serve and engage in the work.

The church lifts up new leaders who can help make sure that each person is cared for in the way they deserve. 

And these new deacons, servants, are blessed… commissioned… into this ministry of waiting tables. 

Friends, we will encounter problems in our church and in our larger community.

There are times when we will be come aware that someone or a group of folks has not been treated fairly.

In fact, I’ve had this on my mind as we think about how this coming Saturday, our nation celebrates Juneteenth. 

You know, I’ve never really thought about Juneteenth as a national holiday. 

I’m going to be totally honest, I didn’t know what it was and maybe you don’t either.

Juneteenth is the day we commemorate the ending of slavery in the United States.

This date comes two and a half YEARS after the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation… but remember, this was not a time of 24/7 cable news. 

It wasn’t until General Lee finally surrendered in April of 1865 and Union troops landed in Texas on June 19th that the war ended and the word reached these communities that all slaves were free.    

Now, every single American should claim this day as our own.

We didn’t always get it right, just as the early Christian community didn’t always get it right.

But we can do something about the harm.

We can listen to the pain and we can work for a better future. 

And we can celebrate the steps we have taken, the leaders we have raised up, and claim the task that is still before us. 

The early church was not perfect. 

Because it was filled with imperfect people who were learning and growing and still discovering what it meant to follow Jesus.

And friends, we aren’t perfect either.

We are going to get it wrong. 

We are going to make mistakes.

We are going to have days when we focus on ourselves and what we want and forget about others. 

But the word I find in these chapters of Acts is this:

We are the Body of Christ, the dwelling place of God’s Spirit, and how we treat one another matters. 

So we should hold one another accountable. 

We should honor the presence of God that lives within us.

And we should keep working to do better every day. 

May it be so. 

Them, Too!

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When I was looking at seminaries, two of my top schools were in Chicago right across the street from one another in the Hyde Park neighborhood. My mom and I went to visit and we started to imagine what life would be like if I was there. My brother, Tony, was also attending school in Chicago at the Illinois Institute of Technology – right near the White Sox stadium. I started envisioning hopping on the L and going to visit him and all of the possibilities.

But I remember as my eyes lit up, my mom looked back at me with a tiny bit of fear in her eyes. “Katie Marie” she said. “I don’t want you traveling alone in that part of town.”

It was hard enough to send her son to the big city… but her daughter?

We ALL have some definition of what “that part of town” is like. But it is different for each of us.

For some of us, “that part of town” is the street where all the shops are boarded up and folks loiter on the corner.

For some of us, “that part of town” is full of expensive houses and we might get pulled over because of the color of our skin.

For some of us, “that part of town” is where we read about shootings and crime.

For some of us, “that part of town” is where we were a parent or relative was spit on or discriminated against.

It is the place where people aren’t like me. Where we are afraid of what might happen to us if we went there. It is the place where we just can’t wrap our minds around what life must be like there.

And the truth is, we all live in somebody else’s “that part of town.” Or “that part of the country.” Or “that part of the world.”

Each of you were handed this morning a slip of paper.

I want to invite you to take it out right now and hold it in your hand.

This morning, I want to invite us to think about those places where we refuse to go. The people we aren’t sure we want to talk to. The situations we would rather keep our distance from. Maybe it is because you have been hurt. Maybe it is because you are afraid.

This is just for you… not for anyone else to see or read… and what I’m going to ask is not going to be easy.

I want to invite you to write on that paper a place that you stay away from. I want you to think about someone you have intentionally not tried to build a relationship with and write their name. I want us all to spend a minute or two in silence as we reflect and are honest with ourselves and with God.   What people or places come to your mind…

[ pause ]

That might have been the longest minute some of us have ever spent in worship.  I know that wasn’t an easy exercise and I thank you for giving us that time.

Now, fold up that paper and hold it in your hand.

I want you to know that you are not alone.

We all are afraid at times.

We all hesitate to go to certain places.

We all have baggage and prejudice and facts and excuses and our reasons for staying away.

You are not alone.

In fact, Jonah, is just like each of us.

If he was with us this morning, Ninevah would be written on that sheet of paper.

The city of Ninevah was full of horrible, terrible people.

In the book of Nahum the prophet, chapter 2 and 3, we read about their misdeeds:

“Doom, city of bloodshed – all deceit, full of plunder: prey cannot get away. Cracking whip and rumbling wheel, galloping horse and careening chariot! Charging calvary, flashing sword, and glittering spear; countless slain, masses of corpses, endless dead bodies – they stumble over their dead bodies!”

That’s not a pretty picture!

It’s not surprising that Jonah doesn’t want to go.

How would you feel if God asked you to go to this violent, wretched city and tell them all they were about to be destroyed by God’s wrath?

Jonah bought a ticket and headed as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Well, if you remember the story of Jonah, that didn’t work out so well. He got kicked off the ship, swallowed by a whale, and spit up on the shoreline.

And finally, reluctantly, with fear and trepidation in his heart, he goes.

He goes to “that part” of the world. To “those people.”

He goes to the city and preaches a one sentence sermon:

“Just forty days more and Nineveh will be overthrown!”

He repeats it over and over again as he walks across the city.

Think about “that place” you have written down.

Could you do that?

Not just go to that place you fear, but actually proclaim their destruction?

I think the core of this one sentence sermon was the message that all was lost.

The people were too far gone.

They were just too terrible and God was ready to wipe the slate clean.

And Jonah thought so, too.

He thought the world would be better off without them in it.

What a terrible thing to say.

And yet, if we thought long and hard about the people and the places we have written on our little scraps of paper, I wonder if that phrase maybe had crossed our mind the past.

Anytime we write off someone as hopeless… or treat a community as if it didn’t exist… or think “wow the government would be a whole lot better off if (insert political party here) weren’t around”… we are doing the same thing.

We have done it throughout history… and we have had it done to us.

Whenever the line has been drawn of us/them, good/bad, right/wrong, folks of all sorts of different faith traditions have felt divine calls to pronounce judgment.

The good news is, it isn’t up to us.

Because even when we have declared something hopeless, God isn’t ready to be done yet.

God could have just sent a plague or rained down fire from above upon Ninevah.

But God didn’t.

God called Jonah.

God warned the people.

God gave them a chance.

And even though Jonah didn’t even offer up the possibility of hope in his one sentence sermon of destruction, the people changed their ways.

They repented.

They turned to God.

The entire kingdom, from the king to the lowest in their midst put on sackcloth and ashes.

As Rev. Bill Cotton pointed out in his reflection this week, some translations say even the cattle repented!

Over this season of Epiphany, we have been exploring the light and the dark. We have been wandering back and forth between the two, and one of the things I hope we are discovering is that the dark isn’t a terrible awful place.

There is possibility in the dark.

There are the seeds of creation and re-creation.

And even a place like Ninevah… Even a place or a person like (hold up your piece of paper)… isn’t lost. It isn’t hopeless.

The question is, are we willing to look for the possibility of change?

Will we open our eyes to see the good in a neighborhood or another person?

Will we lay aside our fears and prejudice and assumptions and go to build relationships?

Will we celebrate when we witness transformations?

Will we ourselves be transformed?

Yes, you, too.

Because God is working on your life also. All those pieces of you that are bent out of shape and bruised and dented. You aren’t hopeless either.

So in the words of Christ, “Now is the time! Here come’s God’s Kingdom! Change your hearts and lives and trust in the good news!”