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Home By Another Way

Posted on January 2, 2022Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 2:1-12

In the middle of December, Brandon and I were able to get away for an incredible six-day, seven-state, three-national park road trip.

Over the prairies…

through the mountains…

across the desert…

through Arches…

our target was the Grand Canyon.

I had never been before and it had probably been 25 years since Brandon had gone himself, and I have to say that ever since we took our Summer Road Trip through scripture last year here at Immanuel, it has been at the top of my list for sights I wanted to see.

I felt like it was calling me.

I felt this urge to stand at the edge and just soak in the vastness, the majesty, the wonder of this amazing feature of God’s creation.

In light of everything happening in the world, I thought it might provide some perspective.

So, in the fall of 2020, Brandon and I started talking about this trip.

We began to carve out time in our schedules and initially decided that we wanted to watch the sunrise at the Grand Canyon for our anniversary in August of 2021.

Routes were plotted, reservations were made, time was taken off from work…

And eight days before our trip, we hit a bump in the road.

Brandon fell and cut open his chin, but we had a few concerns about the cause of the fall and doctor’s appointments to schedule.

It didn’t seem like the right time to be away from our medical resources.

But that urge to go… it was still there.

And so once we figured out that all was well, we began to plan again.

We discovered a small window of time and started to retrace the path we wanted to take.

Only there was one major difference.

It was winter and we had no idea what to expect for weather.

So our back-up plans had back-up plans and we only planned for the first half of our trip – unsure of how we might get home.

“The Wise Men’s Dream” by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org

Now, the Grand Canyon isn’t a miraculous star in the heavens… but perhaps now, more than before, I can understand why the magi had that yearning deep within to set off for unknown lands in search of wonder and majesty.

In her reflection on this piece, Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman writes:

“The Wise Men followed the direction of the shimmering, dotted lights of the night sky, and receive instruction in the subconscious world of sleep. They are ready and willing to discern God’s will in the outward, tangible signs of Creation… God is in it all, and they are paying attention…”

It pulled them over plains and mountains and deserts.

And while they knew what they were seeking, a king who had been born, they also really had no clue what to expect.

They had never traveled that way before.

And just as I sat staring out the window at the ever-changing landscape, I imagine on the backs of their camels or donkeys or whatever beasts they rode, they soaked it all in as well.

I can imagine the obstacles they faced and had to overcome – rivers to cross, mountain passes to navigate, robbers on the road, long stretches with no cities or villages to replenish supplies.

I can also imagine that at every place they stopped and every person they met, they shared aloud their anticipation for where they were going.

I mean, that’s what I did. Every time someone asked along our journey where we were headed, I practically burst forth – To the GRAND CANYON!

Surely, to go and see a king was just as exciting.

And they did it!

They made it to Jerusalem, just six miles away from where Jesus had been born, and knocked on the door of the palace…

King Herod had been appointed from among his fellow Jewish leaders because he was willing to put the needs of his people second and the will of the Romans first.

Through maneuvering, money, scheming, treachery, he had climbed as high as he could on the political ladder. He banished his first wife and child in order to marry the granddaughter of an elite in Rome. And then grew jealous of his second wife and executed her for adultery… eventually marrying five different times. He killed his brother-in-law on charges of conspiracy and some of his own sons because he thought they would usurp his seat of power.

When the magi arrive in Jerusalem, instead of bowing down before King Herod and honoring all of the power and authority he had grabbed for himself.. they want to worship someone else.

You see, this season invites us to honor what God is doing… not the powers of this world.

To honor love and not fear.

To honor mercy and not judgment.

To let go of our power and to offer ourselves, rather than taking what we think belongs to us.

But the powers of this world will try to confuse and misdirect and lead us any direction but God.

Notice again in this painting… but this time look to the background…

Pittman surrounds the dream of the wise men with “hands pointing in every direction except for the direction of God’s leading.”

What amazes me is how Herod kept his cool in the face of such a question… although I suppose anyone who has lied and stolen his way to the top knows how to deceive and pretend to get what they want.

Herod, you see, wants to know where this child is, too.

This baby is one more threat to his rule that must be eliminated.

This child represents that there are people in this world who are willing to resist oppression and overthrow their leaders.

This infant means that maybe the time for Roman rule has ended for the people of Israel – and that would mean that Herod’s time had come as well.

So instead of standing in their way, Herod recruits the magi to help him find this future king, pretending that he would like to bow down and worship him as well.

And so off they go, with new directions and they discovered the star leading them as well.

Matthew tells us that when they saw the star again, they were filled with joy.

It reminded me of what it was like to go those last few miles in Grand Canyon National Park after a long day on the road.

We knew we were close, and the setting sun was peeking out from beneath the clouds and lighting up the sky as we made our way close.

Brandon parked the truck and we hopped out to intensely cold wind and started making our way to the Desert Watchtower lookout.

And a gentleman called out to us… if you run, you will see the sunset…

So we took off, bursting with excitement and anticipation for that first glimpse of what we had traveled all that way to see.

And it took my breath away.

Brandon and I were the only ones at the lookout and we sat down on this little bench and just took it in.

And I thought of all that God has created and done.

The heights and depths and amazing intricate detail of how God is working in our midst.

It filled me with awe to think of how like the water of that river has gently, slowly, over time, carved a path through that rock… God has been making a way, gently, slowly, over time, for the birth of this holy child.

Matthew tells us that the magi fell on their knees at the sight of the child and his mother and they honored him.

A holy moment of worship and awe.

I imagine that the magi… like the shepherds before them… would have wanted to run and shout and tell the whole world about what they had seen.

I thought about while as much as I was trying to soak in the view, I also wanted to capture a picture… a way to share with others what I had just witnessed.

You see, good news is contagious.

The wonder of God wants to be known!

And so I’m sure the magi were busy making plans to head back the same way they came… to stop first by Jerusalem and share all of the details with Herod and then to stop back at each place along the way of that route they had travelled.

But that night, they dreamed a collective dream, warning them of what could happen if they did so.

As Pittman writes, “The Wise Men have a choice. They could succumb to the pressure of the King, which is think in the air and pressing in all around them, or they could choose to listen to the mysterious guiding of their sleeping vision. They decide to change up the narrative and resist the domineering, violent powers of this world, trusting their dream, and taking the long, likely dangerous, journey home by another way.”

It wasn’t just that they took another way home.

I think it was also that the journey to see the King had changed them.

As T.S. Eliot writes in his poem, The Journey of the Magi:

“We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.”

They had encountered God-in-the-flesh, Emmanuel… how could they ever be the same?

How could we ever be the same?

Brandon and I didn’t have plans for our journey home, but kind of let ourselves be open to wherever the road might take us. We decided not to go back the same way, but those amazing sights stirred up in us the desire to see more and do more.

We were able to see Petrified Rock National Park and visit the Georgia O’Keefe museum in Santa Fe and even discovered a collection of art-cars in a little town in Colorado. We journeyed through national grasslands and watched hundreds of tumbleweeds blow by ahead of us on the road.

We let ourselves be open to the possibility of what else there was to discover and are already making plans for our next road trip… wanting to be back out there, in the midst of creation, taking in all that this world has to offer.

All throughout this season of Advent and Christmas and now Epiphany, we have been asking what it means for God to make a home among us… what it means to accept God’s invitation to come home… and what it means to make a home for others.

And in a world of strife and busyness and fear… a world of stress and illness and exhaustion… a world that keeps us distracted by pointing fingers in every direction but the one where God is…

What would it mean for us to go home another way.

To do it differently.

To slow down.

To pay attention to what is happening in creation and the people around us.

To listen for those nudges from God that change our paths.

As you leave the service this morning, we are going to invite you to take a star word… and whatever word it is that you draw, I want you to think about the possibilities that are before you.

What if you are called to go another way?

Listen for what you might be called to embrace or to let go.

After all, God is still shining in this world.

The light of Christ is still leading us.

Renewing us…

Transforming us…

Calling us home by another way.

Let’s take one step… and then another… together, until we finally make it home.

Amen.

Time to Go

Posted on November 28, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Luke 21:25-36, Jeremiah 33:14-16

Have you ever been at a gathering… maybe with family or with friends… and all of a sudden you didn’t really want to be there anymore?

Maybe you were tired.

Or maybe the conversation became stale.

Maybe they ran out of food or someone said something that offended you.

Or maybe you just knew that you had an early morning planned for the next day and it was time to go.

You wanted to be back home, in comfy clothes, rather than there.

Maybe you had one of those moments in these past few days!

I just hope you aren’t having one right now 😊

Friends, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.

When my husband and I are at a party, or an event, or even just hanging out with family and the time has come to go home… when it’s time to get outta there… we have a secret phrase.

“Tut-tut… looks like rain!”

When either one of us utters those words, we know it is time to start packing up our stuff.

And when I shared that with church members, I quickly learned how many other couples and families have their own secret signs… a look, a poke, a phrase.

The point is… we all know how to look and listen for the signs that it is time to go home.

This Advent at Immanuel is all about going home…

Getting back to that place that is safe and welcoming and comfortable…

Creating that kind of space in our own lives for other people…

And yet, as we dive into this Advent season, the scriptures of this particular lectionary year are far from comforting.

We get a lot of harsh words from the prophets and startling visions of the end times.

Words of judgement and challenge are going to be leaping off the pages at us.

But there are also words of comfort and promise and grace and love.

You see, Advent is a time of preparation.

It is a time of getting ready.

And it is not just about getting ready for the birth of one very special child.

It is about getting ready for how the world is about to turn!

It is about getting ready for the kin-dom that this child will usher in!

It is about how everything changes and shifts and reorients itself because Jesus has been born and because Jesus is about to come again!

And we are longing for that world and that kin-dom.

We are homesick for God’s reign.

We are waiting and yearning for a reality in which there is no more hunger, no more hatred, no more hurt.

And the truth is, we aren’t quite there yet.

But as people who follow Christ… we hold on in hope to the promise that God’s kin-dom is our true home.

Our gospel reading from Luke this morning is what is known as the “little apocalypse.”

If we glance at these words without diving into the context, they sound awfully scary.

Dismay among nations.

Surging waves.

Planets that are shaken.

Fear and foreboding.

But let’s think about these signs in context of that party or gathering that I described just a few minutes ago.

You find yourself a guest at a gathering of the world, but the tables are empty.

The conversation is heated.

The fire is going out.

And you know in your gut that this isn’t your home and it’s time to go.

You want to get out of there.

You want to get home.

But you can’t.

You don’t know how.

In that moment, Luke’s gospel tells us, when everything seems to be falling apart and lost and ruined and the party has been crashed…

That is when Christ will come…

That is when God’s kin-dom will appear…

That is when we will know that we are just about home.

So, in those moments when you are the most homesick…

the most filled with longing…

That is when we need to hang on to hope, because everything that was promised is about to burst forth in life.

We just need to pay attention.

The prophet Jeremiah knew something about being homesick.

He understood what it was like to wish that the world around him was different.

He was called to bring a word of judgment against the people of Judah for their idolatry. They had broken their covenant with God and as a result would face the consequences of their actions.

Jeremiah was called to proclaim a time of famine, defeat, and captivity.

During his prophetic ministry, he witnessed the exile of the Judean leaders, the fall of Jerusalem, and the destruction of Solomon’s Temple.

Trust me… if Jeremiah could have cried out “Tut-tut… looks like rain!” he might have gotten out of there.

But somehow in the midst of that, he didn’t abandon his job and he held on to hope.

He trusted in God’s faithfulness in spite of Judah’s sin and rebellion.

He continued to pay attention to the word of the Lord being spoken in his midst and it allowed him to trust that this place that was an absolute mess could be transformed into home once again.

A home where God’s will would reign.

A home where what is right and just would be done.

In fact, in the chapter before this, the Babylonians are at the gate of the city, attacking it, and yet Jeremiah buys a field as a sign of his hope in what God could do.

Because as God speaks through him, “the days are coming when I will fulfill my promises and a righteous Branch will sprout from David’s line.” (33:14-15 paraphrase).

Jeremiah trusts and believes that God will make a home among them yet.

Both of these passages come to us on this first Sunday of Advent.

And as people of faith, who are trying to walk in the light of Jesus, the world we experience around us surely is not what it should be.

I think about the gun violence here in Des Moines that has tragically taken the life of so many young ones this year.

In the last month, a two-year old child was struck by a stray bullet on the same night a young man named Dean Deng was shot and killed. Deng was part of the Mabaan South Sudanese United Methodist Church here in Des Moines. The week before the death of a fifteen-year old in the King Irving Neighborhood.

Or I think about the increasing food scarcity in our community.

We have a number of volunteers here at Immanuel that have started checking our little food pantry on a daily basis and they stop in my office and tell me about how every day it empties out. Not only do our neighbors need food, but they need gloves and socks for warmth.

This world is not the home that God intends for us.

And we can be so focused on what is wrong…

We can dull ourselves with all of the anxieties of life…

We can be filled with fear and foreboding…

Or… we can start to pay attention for where there is hope.

We can pay attention to where new life is sprouting…

We can stand up and raise our heads and look for where God is inviting us to invest in the kin-dom… our true home.

I am reminded of the importance of our partnership with local schools and organizations like CFUM and all of the ways we help show young people that they are loved and valued and help put them on a different kind of track – one that doesn’t involve guns and violence.

And I think of how we can do our part to fight hunger, but also how we can join with larger efforts like the work of DMARC. DMARC has seen the need grow so much in these last few years that they are moving to larger facilities to care for the needs of our community. This network is such a vital part of how we partner with our larger community in making sure that all who hunger are fed. Because of this, our Christmas Eve offering this year will go towards helping DMARC move into their new home.

Hope, you see, is not passive.

When everything feels like it is falling apart and we get homesick for a better world, that is when God is inviting us to get up and get busy for the kin-dom.

If we want a just world, then we need to admit our part in injustices, repent, and seek another way.

If we want a world where all are healed, then we can do our part in caring for the sick, creating the conditions for health, and preventing disease.

If we want a world where creeks run clean, then we can recycle and advocate for public policies.

If we want a world where all who hunger are fed, then maybe we should start setting the table and inviting others to join us.

There are signs all around us that things are not as they should be.

But rather than signs of doom, they are simply reminders of where God is tugging at your heart and calling you to be the hands and feet of Christ.

Instead of wallowing in our homesickness, we are called to use that hurt deep within as fuel for a better world.

Friends, if you think that this party is a bust and it’s time to go home… then you are right.

Tut-tut. It is time to go.

It is time to go and get to work for the kingdom of God.

Behind Closed Doors

Posted on April 12, 2020Leave a comment

Text: John 20:18-20

Almost every Easter, we focus on the tomb.

We focus on the women.

We spend all of our time and attention on that glorious moment when they discover the tomb is empty and Jesus is alive and they have a story to tell.

But this morning, I want to focus on the rest of the disciples.

As my friend, Rev. Allison Lanza, reminded me a few weeks ago, the rest of the disciples were not at the tomb.

They were not in the garden.

They were not taking risks and bringing oils to honor the body of their Lord.

As Rev. Lanza wrote,

“On the very first Easter the disciples were locked in their house. It was dangerous for them to come out… They were living in a time of such despair and such fear. If they left their homes their lives and the lives of their loved ones might be at risk.”

Only a few of us are able to gather here at this empty church to lead worship for this morning… just like only a few ever gathered to witness the empty tomb.

The rest of the disciples… the rest of the church… the rest of the faithful…

Well, you are home.

You are home where you are safe.

You are home where you are doing everything you can to protect your loved ones.

You are home because it is dangerous not just for ourselves, but for our vulnerable neighbors as well, to go out.

It is not irrational fear keeping you home… but very real concerns and worries and sensible measures that we need to take to care for one another.

This year, we may not be dressed up in fancy clothes and crowding into the pews.

One of our biggest disappointments might be missing out on that beautiful and delicious Easter Breakfast put on by VIM.

We aren’t watching the kiddos squeal and run past each other finding eggs and crashing after eating all the candy.

But maybe what we are experiencing this year is a glimpse into what that very first Easter was like for those who followed Jesus.

It wasn’t about candy or food or clothes.

It was a group of people who were grieving and lonely and scared.

They were heartbroken and frustrated.

Everything they had planned and all of the possibility vanished on the cross.

They were desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.

We don’t have to imagine what that was like.

We are living it.

We have loved ones who have tested positive for Covid-19 and you are worried about them and unable to go visit.

We are longing for connection and know you shouldn’t risk it.

We are grieving people in our lives that we have lost but have been unable to go and properly mourn.

All of the plans that we had for this spring… concerts, games, graduation, weddings… heck, even simply barbeques or camping trips or playdates…

In the blink of an eye it was gone.

Postponed indefinitely.

We are desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.

I have to be honest… somewhere early in the midst of this crisis, I suggested that we postpone Easter.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around Easter with the church filled up with people.

I couldn’t imagine laughing and singing and praising God and shouting CHRIST IS RISEN… without having all of you shouting it back to me.

And Easter is technically a moving holiday… we celebrate it on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox… which is another way of saying, it doesn’t matter what day it is.

So I got this idea that we should just wait and sit in Lent for a little while longer and postpone Easter until that Sunday when all of us could gather and hug and sing and shout and stuff our faces with food.

But then I realized… this was not going to be a delay of a week or two.

And maybe more than ever we need a glimmer of hope.

We need a hint of good news.

We need to see that ray of possibility.

Easter wasn’t cancelled or postponed or forgotten because the disciples were huddled together, shut behind locked doors, closed off to the world.

Easter wasn’t limited to the few people who were able to gather at the empty church… I mean tomb… on that morning.

Easter wasn’t simply a rumor or a story told by others.

And you know what, that first Easter wasn’t even something the disciples had to risk their own lives to go out and experience.

No, John tells us in his gospel account that even there amid the apprehension and uncertainty and fear, the miracle of Easter showed up.

The resurrected Jesus somehow slipped passed those dead bolts and latches and stood among them.

Right where they were.

In the safety of their homes.

God-with-us… Immanuel.

On Easter Sunday, there were a few who were called to go out and proclaim the story.

In some ways, I resonate with Mary, tasked with bringing the news from the empty tomb to share it with all of you.

But not everyone could.

Not everyone was safe.

Easter was for them, too.

I don’t know what your Easter will be like this year, but here is one thing for which I am certain.

God is with you.

The Lord of Life is with you.

The Hope of the World is in your midst.

And when he showed up with those first disciples in their homes, the first words he uttered acknowledge their… our… difficult reality.

“Peace be with you.”

He didn’t scold them.

He didn’t open the doors and push them out into the world.

Jesus offers a word of reassurance.

He simply offers peace.

Peace unlike any else that the world gives.

A breath of the spirit that reminded them of the words spoken just days earlier as they gathered around the table in the upper room.

“do not Let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27 NRSV)

“In the world you have distress. But be encouraged! I have conquered the world.” (John 16:33 CEB)

We sometimes think about peace as a calm.

Or as the absence of war.

But the Hebrew use of peace was an all-encompassing word of complete and total well-being.

It meant salvation.

It meant being “uninjured and safe, whole and sound.” [1]

Jesus stands in their midst, wounds still visible, and yet he reassures them that all is whole and well and that his earthly work among them is complete.

Jesus is our peace.

He is our shalom.

Through him, we are restored to God…

We are restored to one another…

And we are sent forth to restore the world…

My prayer for you, today, is that that same peace would show up in your homes.

That the Easter blessing of peace might find you wherever you are.

I pray that in spite of everything, you might be able to breathe in that gift of peace.

The apostle Paul knew a little something about being under house arrest, imprisoned, unable to go out and visit and care for those whom he had grown to love.

But even in a prison cell, the peace of Christ was with him.

And so his words to the people of Philippi, I share now with you.

⁴Rejoice^[^c^] in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.^[^d^] ⁵Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. ⁶Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Wherever you are this morning, friends, let that Easter gift of blessed peace fill your lives. Amen.

[1] https://www.efca.org/blog/sunday-resurrection

Go Back Home

Posted on April 1, 20181 Comment

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!
Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!

When those women showed up at the tomb on Easter morning, they didn’t know they were supposed to shout for joy.
They were confused and disoriented and more than a little startled by the angel appearing before them.
Christ has been raised?
He isn’t here?
What on earth is going on?

The only miracle they had thought to pray for was that somehow they would be able to roll away the stone.
They had come to this place expecting that the stench of death would fill the tomb.
In their arms, they carried only spices and oils for anointing the body of their friend, their teacher. Patiently they had waited until the sabbath was over and the sun had peeked over the horizon.

Many of us have been in that place.
We have trudged through the valley of the shadow of death, overwhelmed by our grief, going through the motions of ritual and closure because it is the only thing we know how to do in that moment.
Except unlike us, these three women: Mary Magdalene, Mary, and Salome, had no hope left in their heart.
There was no light at the end of this tunnel.
They were witnesses to a world-transforming, miracle-working revolution of thought and mind and now that it was snuffed out before them… now that Jesus was dead, three days in the tomb… now that the disciples had scattered… it was all over.
They were alone.
The empire had won.
Or so they thought…

Until they arrived at the tomb just after sunrise, carrying objects of mourning, and discovered the stone had been rolled away.
They slowly stepped inside the cavern, unsure, unsteady, unknowing… and were startled by a man in white standing in the room.
I can imagine one of them hoisted up the jar of spices, prepared to use it as a weapon to throw so they could make a quick escape.
But the man quickly spoke: I know you are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, the One they nailed on the cross. He’s been raised up; he’s here no longer. See for yourselves – this place is empty.
The Message translation of this passage notes that they got out of there as fast as they could, their heads swimming, completely beside themselves with this good news of great joy… but before they stumbled out the door, the messenger in white had some very clear instructions for these ladies, these first messengers of the gospel, the first preachers of the resurrection.
“On your way, ladies! You have work to do! Go and tell the disciples that Jesus is going back to where this whole thing started… back to where your ministry began… Go back home… and you will find Jesus there.”

Go back home.

Sometimes, we need to go back to the beginning of our story.
We need to remember where we have come from to understand where we are supposed to go next.

This Friday, we laid to rest our friend and church member, Donna Bales. In the midst of their grief, I listened as Donna’s children and grandchildren shared stories of their loved one. They talked about going back through Donna’s things and they even went back to the stories that Donna herself had told about her life growing up… about her parents and grandparents. In the process, they tapped into the core of who she was – an incredibly strong, yet humble woman, who taught them each how to embrace their own strength in life.

Perhaps you have had a similar experience when you have lost a loved one. When you go back home and start sifting through those memories and artifacts, revisiting things you thought were behind you, you start to discover a rich heritage in your past that has shaped who you have become.

The disciples of Jesus had made a lot of mistakes along their journey. They were human, just like you and me, and they fumbled and failed like we all do. Every step of the way, Jesus was there to guide them, set them back on the path, and to help them understand God in a new way.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, the disciples either betrayed him, denied him, or ran away in fear of their own lives. Their grief and shame hung heavily upon them.
How do you even begin to hear the good news of the resurrection in that moment?
How can you begin to start anew?
You go back home.
You go back to the place where Jesus first spoke your name, first called you into ministry, first showed you that God is present in our lives.
You go back to where it all began.

The messenger in the tomb that morning tells the women, and through them the disciples, that Jesus has already made a plan to meet them back home in Galilee.

It was there that Jesus began to announce the good news of God – “Change your hearts and your lives – Here comes God’s Kingdom!”
It was there by the Sea that he discovered Simon and Andrew, James and John, casting their nets into the sea.
It was there that Jesus cast out demons, healed the sick, turned water into wine, and multiplied the loaves and the fishes.

Jesus calls them back home to the place where their story began together.
Because it is about to begin all over again.
And they are going to need to tap into those rich memories and stories of forgiveness and the memories of miracles to help guide them as they take their next steps along the journey of God.

This past week, a good friend and mentor of mine, Rev. Michael Williams, died in Nashville. That city was home for me during my seminary years and while I couldn’t go back for the funeral, I found myself reconnecting with friends via facebook as we shared memories and I was able to livestream the funeral – a powerful service of death and resurrection – from here.

I sat in my office, watching the choir process into the sanctuary at West End United Methodist Church and as friends and colleagues stood in that pulpit to speak a word of God’s love. That church was my home for four years. It was where I worshipped. It was where I began my ministry. It was the place I first stood behind a communion table to break bread and share it with my congregation. That church home and those people formed and shaped my ministry and I would not be the pastor I am today without those experiences.
It was powerful to go back home, even if only through the wonders of technology, and to be reminded of where I have come from and where I am called to go next.
Where did you first encounter Jesus in your life?
Who were the people who surrounded you at that time in your life?
Was it at summer camp? At your grandparent’s church? Was it right here in this building?
Did that place come to feel like home for you?

My friend, Michael, wrote: “the people who have formed and shaped our lives while they were among us can still live inside us and influence the way we live even after their death. In some sense, as long as we continue to tell the stories of loved ones, they remain a presence within us and among us.”

When it feels like defeat and death have won the day, we are invited to go back home.
We are invited to go back to the place where this journey started for us and start retelling the stories of our faith.
And we discover there the presence of God all over again. We encounter the risen Savior. We are filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. We are met by the Holy and Triune God who has promised to always be home for us.

In this season of Easter at Immanuel, we are going to be exploring what it means to have a place to call home in our faith lives. Our scriptures and messages will remind us that God wants to make a home among us, God-with-us, Immanuel… and that we are invited to make our home in God – to abide, to dwell in the presence of the Risen One.
Maybe today you have come home to this place, this family, this Body of Christ, and this is an opportunity to reconnect and get reenergized.
Maybe you haven’t yet found a place to call your spiritual home. If that’s the case, we invite you to join us over these next weeks and to go on this journey with us. And I pray that the welcome so many of us have discovered here might be shared with you.
But above all, wherever you call home, know that you are not alone. “In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us.” We are never alone. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Listen!

Posted on January 14, 20181 Comment

About nine years ago, we were in the midst of one of those bitterly cold Januarys… not unlike the one we have experienced here!
The snow was falling and the temperature was below zero, but I bundled up that afternoon and went to the local nursing home where I held a monthly worship service.
I really enjoyed this time of worship there. While I rotated with other community pastors for this afternoon time of singing and preaching, I was one of the only pastors who also celebrated communion with these folks. Other denominations were more exclusive about who is welcome at the table. So it was always a joy to walk around the room and share the bread of life and cup of salvation with those dear folk.
On this particular cold day, we shared the same text that we are focusing on this morning. As we heard about how Jesus entered those waters of the Jordan, we remembered our own baptisms.
I carried around the circle a basin of water and invited each one to dip their fingers in and remember that God has loved them and called them each by name.
As I came to one woman, she had fallen asleep, as often happens with that group, and she was gently nudged awake by her neighbor.
Hopefully, you won’t have to nudge your neighbor awake this morning!
I kept working my way around the room and came to another woman who proclaimed with joy, “I was baptized in the Iowa River!”

There was another woman whose name was Grace and all throughout the service, she would interrupt to ask who was going to take her home.
At the end of worship, I had the chance to sit with her and chat and with the bitter cold outside, she kept asking who was going to come and get her and take her home.
She openly began to weep because she had been forgotten and no one was coming to take her home.
I reminded her gently that this was her home now…
this was where she belonged…
But more importantly… I reminded her that she was not alone.
In fact, she was loved.
She was a child of God, blessed by the Lord, and touching those waters a voice from heaven was pouring out upon her, reminding her that she was beloved.

As I listened to Grace’s insistence that she go home, I knew that dementia was speaking loud and clear… but there was something of all of us in her words, too.
Don’t we all want to go home?
Don’t we all want to experience the kind of belonging where we are called beloved?

I said earlier that I really enjoyed worshipping there at Rose Haven in Marengo… but there is another part of me that found those times and moments extraordinarily sad.
Some of the residents were vibrant and full of life, but others were barely functional in mind, body or spirit.
Many had been forgotten by their families.
This was not the highest quality facility in the county… and there were many things that made me pause when I thought about the care that I would desire for my own loved ones.

In that moment of worship, I had a chance to name each and every single one of those residents as beloved…
but I also found wondering how my own community of faith was living out our baptisms…
How did the call of God that poured out in our baptisms invite us to be present in the lives of these people in a different way?

You see, on the one hand, our baptism is an echo of the one Jesus experienced… so we proclaim that each and every single one of us is also called beloved by our God.
You are beloved.
You are beloved.
You are beloved.

But so often, we hear those words falling upon our own heads in our baptism and then we stop listening.
I am a beloved child of God, we hear in our hearts. Period. End of story.

But that is not how Mark tells this story.
No, his version of this tale is urgent and messy.
He starts with John the Baptist at the Jordan River, inviting people to come and be baptized as a sign that they were changing their lives.
Rev. Mindi Welton-Mitchell reminds us that, “the Jordan river was where people went to wash their dishes and their laundry. It’s where they went to bathe. In other words, the river flowed with [the] filth and muck of human life… this wasn’t water that washed clean, but rather water that acknowledges the muckiness of our communal lives.”
John knew that his baptisms were not the end of the story, but that someone was coming to baptize with the Holy Spirit.
And then Jesus shows up.
This guy from the dump of a town, Nazareth…
A nobody from nowhere…
And yet, the very presence of God in the world.
And as God-with-us, Immanuel, Jesus Christ, waded into those filthy waters of the Jordan River, the very heavens split open.
And in that moment, the ministry of Jesus begins.
The Spirit flows upon him like a dove, names him beloved, and then forces him into the wilderness.

“What are our baptisms for?” Ted Smith asks in his lectionary reflection (Feasting on the Word).
Baptism is not simply something that makes us feel warm and fuzzy inside.
It is also the reminder that God’s power, God’s spirit, God’s life has poured out upon us… the very heavens were torn open and now YOU are sent out, like Jesus, into the wilderness of this life.
Because not only are you beloved… but so is every other child of creation.
No matter where they have come from or what their life has been, they, too, are beloved by God.
Whether they are from a place that is beloved or a place that has been condemned by others, they, too, are beloved by God.
Whether they are surrounded by love or whether they are forgotten and alone, they, too, are beloved by God.
And in our baptisms, the power of heaven itself pours out on us and calls us into the world to act on the behalf of our brothers and sisters.
To create opportunities.
To open doors.
To work for justice.
To call one another to reconciliation and repentance.
To make God’s love real in this world through our worship, through our work, through our play.
It is the call that drove Martin Luther King, Jr. to proclaim the dream that one day the children of slaves and slave holders would be able to sit down and share a meal together.
The dream that children would not be judged by color of their skin or where they were born, but by the content of their character.
That little children of different races and abilities and backgrounds would be able to join hands with one another.
That we can work together, pray together, struggle together, stand up for freedom together.

Our baptism is the foundation of every single thing we do as a church. Because this is not my place of ministry, but ours.
You are a beloved child of God.
The heavens were tore open as you were baptized and the Holy Spirit sends you out into the world to share the life you have found here with others.
On this day, let us shout with joy for the presence of God is in this place, leading us, calling us, shoving us out into world and reminding us with gentle words that every person we meet is a beloved child of God.
Amen.

Prepare the Way

Posted on December 3, 2017Leave a comment

As that short film reminded us, there 65 million refugees and forcibly displaced persons in the world today.

That is roughly thirty-two times the number of people who live in Iowa.
In fact, if you added up the populations of the whole North Central Jurisdiction of the UMC – both Dakotas, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio – you’d only reach a population of 57 million. You’d have to also throw in Nebraska and Missouri.
65 million people across this planet have had to leave their homes in order to survive… and I thank God that the United Methodist Church is responding in love and compassion towards these people – providing support, health, welcome, opportunities, and hope.

But I must admit that I am challenged by our Advent texts for this morning that ask a very difficult question.
Welcoming the stranger, the migrant, the refugee is one thing…
How are you going to help clear the way for your neighbors to someday return home?

You see, when Isaiah proclaims his words of comfort to the people of Israel, he is not simply talking about making a way for God’s presence to be known…
No, a way, a literal path, is being made for the exiles in the land of Babylon to go back home.
After being forcibly removed from their homes and carted off to a land of strangers, Isaiah was proclaiming that the time had come to return.
And all obstacles were being removed… the mountains were being leveled, the valleys being filled… anything that might keep the people from finding their home once again would be swept away.
Perhaps one of the most visible group of refugees in the world today are Syrians. We are haunted by the images of those little ones on the beach and moved by the gratitude of those whose families make it to the shores of a distant land.
This weaving that usually sits outside of my office is made from life jackets and clothing that have been collected along the shore line in Greece. Refugee women put their entrepreneurial spirit to work in making these beautiful creations that are a powerful reminder of their journey.
In this season, as we think about how not only people, but the entire planet longs for Christ to come once again and usher in the Kingdom, I am reminded that the roots of the Syrian conflict that led these families to leave their homes started with a drought.

Syria is a region that was the birth of human civilization. It is known as the Fertile Crescent, a land of rivers and agriculture and the flourishing of life. But from 2006 – 2009, the region experienced an extreme drought… the worst seen in a millenia… the culmination of “a century-long trend toward warmer and drier conditions.”
This drought was a catalyst for the conflict, because as many as 1.5 million people fled from rural to urban areas after failed governmental policies to mitigate the damage and crop failures, adding to social stresses and anger at government leaders.

In fact, the United States military has now classified climate change as a “significant strategic threat” or a “threat multiplier” that leads to instability in various parts of the world.
We now are in the sixth year of a violent conflict that has left nearly half a million dead and has forced 11 million from their homes.

Climate scientists see two potentially permanent shifts in the climate of this region that contributed to the severe drought – “a weakening of winds that bring moisture-laden air from the Mediterranean and hotter temperatures that cause more evaporation.” Natural causes cannot account for such a drastic shift… only when you factor in the human impact on the environment can you make sense of the data.
When I hear John the Baptist standing on the banks of the River Jordan, crying out for us to prepare the way of the Lord… I also hear him calling for us to repent.
For too long, we have considered this planet as a resource to be plundered, instead of as a gift to be protected. We have allowed our desire for convenience to change our habits as consumers and we buy and throw away material goods at an alarming pace.
Instead of leveling mountains and raising valleys, places like Cedar Rapids are literally creating mountains out of our trash…

Someday, I pray to God, when peace comes to Syria and the conflict ends, the reality of a changed landscape and climate patters still has to be reckoned with.
So the question for us today, is how do we need to repent… how can we help clear the way and change our practices, so that these places might once again be fertile and sustain life?
How can our actions today help prepare the way for future generations to return home?

When I think about how the world has banded together through the Paris Climate Accords, our efforts to curb global warming are not an effort to bring about restoration, but merely to prevent the worst from happening. And even then, the goals are only aspirational.

What we truly need is to repent, change our ways, and work to restore creation.

In past years, I have listened to the wisdom of a group called Advent Conspiracy. They believe that Christmas can change the world if we focused on four simple things:
1) We need to worship fully. We need to dive into our scriptures and these texts from Isaiah and Luke in order to remember the one who has called us to live differently in this world.
2) We need to spend less. We need to let go of the endless need to consume and buy that is wreaking havoc on our planet. 99% of everything that we purchase will end up as waste products within 6 months. 99%!
3) So their third call is to give more… not of stuff, but of presence – relational presence. We need to spend more time with one another rather than money.
4) Lastly, we need to love all people – and remember the poor, the forgotten, and the marginalized

In all of these things, we can make a significant impact on creation around us. We can stop putting money in the pockets of the most wealthy and stand on the side of the oppressed. We can work for the restoration of relationships, rather than buying happiness. And we can answer the perennial call to live differently upon this world.

In many ways, this is what Mary is proclaiming in her song as well.
She glorifies the Lord who chose her… a young, poor, female servant.
She cries out God’s praises for pulling the powerful down from thrones and lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty handed.
She sees in the new life that is growing within her the possibility that all who fear, all who are oppressed, all who have not will be able to find a way to thrive in God’s kingdom.

This Advent and Christmas is an opportunity for you and me to repent and change our ways.
We can take stock of our endless consumerism and instead seek to live more faithfully and gently upon this earth.
We can advocate for policies and practices that help us to reduce our impact upon this world.
We can personally do our part to reverse environmental harm – whether it is in our own backyards or halfway across the world.
And someday, as a result of our actions, we will have helped make a way for all of God’s creation to return home…

Home. #umcgc

Posted on May 20, 20161 Comment

Each evening, when deliberations are done, it’s time to head home.

While for most delegates, that has been to a hotel room, sometimes shared with one other person, I am sharing a home with a small group of folks.

We found a place through AirBnB not too far from the convention center. It is a Victorian, in a lovely neighborhood, close to stores and transportation.

And it has been amazing to have a home to come home to.

In college, I lived in intentional community with folks through our “theme house” system. We shared interests and ideals along with milk and bathrooms. Common spaces were where ideas were freely exchanged, debate was encouraged, and at the end of the day we had to figure out how to get along because for the most part we were stuck with each other.

Our living arrangement these two weeks is temporary, but we do have relationship with each other. And it has been wonderful to have common space to reflect and process what each day has brought… And sometimes talk about anything but.

The conveniences of a house are nice… But home really is about who you share it with… And for those folks these past two weeks, I am grateful.

God Changes Minds

Posted on May 10, 2015Leave a comment

I change my mind all the time.

I like variety. I learn. I grow. I experience new things. I’m in a different mood.

And my understanding and beliefs change as a result.

All. The. Time.

Most recently, we have been doing some work on our backyard.

Early this spring, we removed a few trees. And the morning the workers came to take the trees down, I thought I wanted the pile in one place.

Today, I want it somewhere else.

I changed my mind.

My initial decision was one that had to be made in the moment.

And at the time, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted.

I also thought I understood how much wood there would be.

Now, I’m the first to admit, I was completely and utterly mistaken.

What we were left with when the tree company left was an enormous wood pile.

I didn’t have all the information.

I didn’t understand the scope and breadth and depth of what this pile would be. Or how it would block the view of my barberries and take up the entire first level of our retaining wall.

I hadn’t thought about the best way to store said wood in order to help it cure.

I couldn’t see in that moment the bigger picture.

And now, I’m going to build some muscles moving all of those logs… because now, with more information and some experience, my mind was changed.

In our reading from Acts today, Peter changed his mind, too.

Or rather God changed Peter’s mind.

Like me, Peter couldn’t see the big picture.

He was living his life as a faithful Jewish man and thought he knew exactly what God was about and what God wants from the people. He presumed to understood the rules of faith.

But his knowledge was limited.

He didn’t see the scope and the breadth and the depth of God’s love for all people.

In the prelude to our scripture reading from Acts this morning, Peter has been sent on a missionary journey to the home of Cornelius… a gentile.

A Gentile is anyone who is not Jewish, someone who was not a part of the family of Israel, someone who was an outsider as far as the faith was concerned.

While the scripture describes Cornelius as a God-worshipper, Gentiles had limits on their participation in the Jewish temple.

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.

They were excluded from the rest because they were unclean. They were different. They were not welcome.

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

And God wanted a relationship with them. So God prepares Peter’s heart for a transformation in thinking. Before God sends Peter to Caesarea and the home of Cornelius, he gives him a vision of the clean and unclean joining together. Peter receives a vision of a new sort of body of Christ.

Then he is summoned to the home of Cornelius, and although he was not allowed by Jewish custom to enter, he did. He went in and ate with the family and he shared with them the good news of Jesus Christ. And as he preached to Cornelius and his family, the Holy Spirit descends upon them and they receive the gift of faith.

Peter’s world has just been turned upside down. Those he thought were outside of God’s love and power have just had it poured upon them. And 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?”

No one 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.

When my husband and I decided to take down some trees at our house, we thought we understood the parameters of the proposal. They take down the trees. We keep the mulch and the wood. End of story.

But what exactly are we going to do with all of that wood?

How are we going to store it?

What do we do with the plants that were once in a shady area that now need to be moved?

And what happens to the family of bunnies that has now made their home in the wood pile in its current location?

As soon as a new, unexpected element enters the equation, it is natural that there is some anxiety, some wheel spinning, and chaos.

And that is precisely what happened in the aftermath of Peter and Cornelius.

You can take down a tree or two. You can baptize a Gentile family.

But there are going to be repercussions.

Things just won’t be the same.

Peter is summoned back to Jerusalem. He is called back to the apostles who heard about what happened and who aren’t so sure they like what has happened.

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, believed that faith meant one thing, and God was trying to show them it meant something else. But we cling to our traditions, to our rules, to what we know and understand.

I think the number one way God changes our hearts and minds is by helping us experience the world in a different way.

That’s what happened with Peter. God moved him to the right time and place and put Cornelius in his life to give him an undeniable experience of grace and power and Holy Spirit led transformation.

But the number two way God changes hearts and minds is by calling those who have had these life-altering experiences to tell their story.

The apostles were furious and demanded an explanation.

And 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 give he gave us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, then who am I? Could I stand in God’s way?”.

Seventy 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.

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

At various points throughout our history, faithful folk stood up and exclaimed about women: 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 stop them from being ordained 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.

God changed his mind.

God changed the mind of our church.

God helped us to see a different vision of what the church and our community could be, just as God had done for Peter.

As a young 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 often wonder where God is going to change our minds next.

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

When I was in Washington, D.C. last week for a leadership fellows training, the church we spent our days at had welcome signs plastered throughout the building.

“We love single people, divorced people, widowed and married people,” it says.

“We love people who have not been to church in ages and those who never miss a Sunday.”

“We love people who are in recovery and those who are still addicted.”

The list went on and on, but it reminded me that God shows no partiality to one group of people or another.

God wants to be in relationship with all of us.

With the whole of creation.

With you and me.

With black and white and brown.

With young and old, and gay and straight,

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.

When you start to make a list, all of a sudden the people we are supposed to love and share the good news with starts to overwhelm us.

Like the woodpile in my yard, it truly seems incredible and awesome.

The question that’s before us is: what are we going to do about it?

How will this knowledge change our practice?

And if we are going to let God change our hearts and minds and church, where do we need to start moving around the woodpile to make room for everyone to thrive and find a place here?