UMC 101: Summon to Grace, Growth, and Love

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Text: Luke 3:15-18, 21-22,  Book of Discipline pages 47-54

Every time we turn the pages from one calendar year to the next, it feels like a fresh start.

A new beginning.

A chance to revisit where we have been and where we are going. 

A few years ago, we took time as a congregation during this season to look at the Bible with fresh eyes in our series, Bible 101. 

And as so much of the future of the United Methodist Church is up in the air, this is a good chance to dive into who we say we are and what we say we are about as we figure out what is next for us as a people.

So… welcome to UMC 101!

Today, we start by the waters of the Jordan River with John the Baptist, calling people to repent and to change their hearts and lives.

This is such a great place to launch into our discussion of what it means to be United Methodist, because our forebearers in this tradition, like John, were not planning to create something entirely new.

John the Baptist understood himself as nothing more than a sign-post… pointing to the truths of his tradition, the promises of the prophets, and the movement of God all around him.

He was calling people back to their faith…

Calling them to reclaim what it meant to be the people of God and to bear fruit in the world…

And he was inviting them to look out for what God was stirring up in their midst… the Savior who had been promised. 

In other words, John the Baptist wasn’t inventing a new religion.

In fact, the early Jesus followers weren’t trying to start a new religion either… they just wanted to answer God’s call to live their faith more deeply.

And our United Methodist denomination never set out to be a new tradition either.

As the Book of Discipline reminds us, the core of our faith is the same as other Christians (p.49-50):

  • We hold and affirm our belief in the triune God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – just as our baptismal liturgy invites us to profess. 
  • We hold in common faith in the mystery of salvation… a precious gift… that redeems our brokenness, in and through Jesus Christ. 
  • We believe that God’s redemptive love is realized in our lives by the movement of the Holy Spirit – both in our personal experiences and in the community – the church.
  • We see ourselves as part of Christ’s holy catholic church – catholic with a little ‘c’ meaning Christ’s universal church.  The church is one in Christ Jesus – sharing the authority of scripture, creeds, liturgies, and ministries.
  • We recognize that the reign of God has already begun, and just as we proclaimed all throughout this Advent season… it is not completely here yet, and that the church itself is a sign of that kingdom – but it is also continually being reformed so that it might be more like what God intends for us.

When John the Baptist stood on the banks of the Jordan, he didn’t have a new teaching to offer. He wasn’t trying to get people to believe something new. He simply wanted them to wash themselves clean of their past, to change their hearts, and to really and truly live out their faith in their daily lives.

If we look back to what John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist tradition, was trying to do, it isn’t all that different. 

As our Book of Discipline reminds us, the early Methodists “tasks were to summon people to experience the justifying and sanctifying grace of God and encourage people to grow in the knowledge and love of God through the personal and corporate disciplines of the Christian life.” 

They heard a call to “reform the nation, particularly the Church, and to spread scriptural holiness over the land.”

In other words… John Wesley and his early followers… like John the Baptist before them… were simply calling people to put faith and love into practice.   

Over time, as we continued to focus on “practical divinity” – or the presence of God moving through our daily lives, the Wesleyan tradition began to take on it’s own unique emphases… or our own spin on those core Christian beliefs. 

The first of these is that everything is grace.  Grace is the act of creation, the revelation of Jesus Christ, and the restoration of all things… no matter how much we have failed.  It is all undeserved and it is all an act of love.

In our United Methodist tradition, we talk about three different ways that grace is present in our lives. 

There is prevenient grace… the grace that goes before us.  Before we even know who God is, it is the spark of love present in our lives.  It is one of the reasons that our tradition baptizes little babies… because God’s grace goes before us.  Prevenient grace is the tug at our heart and the unconscious push in our lives to get us to the place where we are ready for God’s love to change us. 

Then there is justifying grace… the grace that forgives and restores us.  We sometimes talk about this as our conversion experience – whether it happens in a moment or over a lifetime – as our hearts and lives change by God’s grace and the power of the Holy Spirit. 

This is the moment that John the Baptist was pointing to in our scripture for today… acknowledging our sins, turning our lives around, and then through the power of the Holy Spirit and the work of Jesus Christ, actually being transformed.  He knew that simply repenting of your sins wasn’t enough.  You needed the Holy Spirit to sift out the fruit – the grain – from the husks.

As we often talk about with our confirmands, simply accepting God’s redeeming grace is not the end of our journey. So much of our United Methodist beliefs stem from asking the question – what now? 

Or maybe a better way of thinking about it is – what do you do with that grain of wheat that is your life?  How do you plant it so that it might grow and nourish this world? 

So our tradition focuses also on sanctifying grace… the grace that continues to nurture and transform and perfect us so that each day we are more filled with the love of God and our neighbor than we were the day before. 

One of the perpetual conversations amongst different Christian traditions has to do with faith and good works.  Because the Wesleyan tradition emphasizes that what we do in this world matters, we sometimes get accused of focusing on works… of trying to earn our salvation.

And God’s grace does call us to respond… but faith is the only response essential for salvation.  To accept God’s prevenient, and justifying, and sanctifying grace in our lives.

The thing is, when you let the Holy Spirit work in you… there will be fruit!  People will be able to see the good works that God is doing through you.

Related to this, personal salvation always involves mission and service.  Love of God is always linked with love of neighbor, a passion for justice and renewal in the world.  We’ll talk more next week about some of the ways our own personal piety is linked with social holiness – like two sides of the same coin. 

Finally, we can’t do any of this on our own.  United Methodists don’t believe that all you need is Jesus – you also need the Body of Christ.  For it is in community that we grow and are equipped for our service in the world.  For Wesley, there is no religion but social religion.  So the nurture and mission of the church brings us together as a connection.  Even our congregations don’t operate on our own, but reach out together to witness and seek love, peace, and justice in this world. 

When John the Baptist called for people to be baptized, he wanted them to show that they were changing their hearts and lives and wanted God to forgive their sins.  (Luke 3:3)

But it wasn’t just about them as individuals getting right with God.

It was so that all humanity would see God’s salvation. (Luke 3:6, Isaiah 40:5)

“What should we do?” the people cried out.

“If you have two coats, give one away” he replied.

Our faith, our salvation, is not just about what we are saved from.

It is about what we are saved for.   

We were saved to be disciples, and to make disciples of Jesus Christ, for the transformation of this world. 

Friends, through the love and grace of God, the Holy Spirit is ready to descend onto your life…

Whether you are just getting started in the faith and are still unsure of what your next steps are…

Or whether you are finally ready to accept the gift of God’s love…

Or whether you have long ago given your life to God and are ready to keep growing in faith…

God’s grace is here. 

You are God’s beloved. 

And the Holy Spirit is ready to wash over you…

To fill you…

To empower you…

To transform you…

So that this world might see and know and experience the good news of God. 

Do you hear that summon? 

Do you hear that call to experience the grace of God?  To grow in the knowledge and love of God? 

If you have never been baptized, I’d love to have a conversation with you about what that next step might look like in your life.  Fill out one of our cards – either from the pew or online – and let me know about that nudge in your life. 

For the rest of us, this is an opportunity to remember.

To recommit. 

To respond.

So that we might not only be redeemed and restored, but so that we might reform the nation.

Follow the Star: Identity

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Text: Mark 1:4-11

Last week, we invited you to follow the star of the Magi…
Not the one in the sky, but the one in the manger.
The one who drew them over mountains and deserts and seas.

I love how the Message translation makes clear that the object we are seeking and following is none other than Jesus.
“The star in this drama,” John the Baptist says, “will change your life.”

John called people to the river to confess and repent.
To wash away their old life and make a commitment to a new one.
It was a simple invitation and people were drawn by this call.
They were eager to embrace this tangible, physical, vigorous act of letting themselves be washed clean.
As the cold water drifted by them, the current took their sins away.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if it was that easy?
Just hop in the river and everything is better?

But even John the Baptizer knew this wasn’t the end of the story.
It wasn’t enough.
You couldn’t just say “I’m sorry.”
You actually had to start living differently and there was only one person who had the power to change people from the inside-out.
So he started preparing people for the true star of this show, the mighty and powerful one who would wash people not with water, but with the very Spirit of God.
And then, Jesus appeared.
He showed up at that very same river and spot and he was baptized, too.

Mark tells us that Jesus saw the heavens open and the Holy Spirit come down.
Like a dove diving from the heavens it rested upon him.
And then there was a voice.
“You are my son.
You are chosen and marked by my love.
You are the pride of my life.“

If last week, the star word we focused on was epiphany, this week it is identity.
And clearly, we discover the identity of Jesus in this passage.
God makes it pretty clear who this guy standing in the water is.
God’s Son.
Beloved.
Delightful.

But if this was the identity of Jesus Christ, why did he need to be baptized?
Why did he enter the water in the first place?
Certainly not because he needed to repent or because he was unclean.
No… Jesus entered the water for us.
He stepped into the water so that you could enter the water.
So that you could let go of your sins.
So that we might be made sons and daughters and children of God.
So that the Holy Spirit might descend and flow into our lives.
As the Orthodox baptismal liturgy asserts: “He emerges from the waters and uplifts the world with Him.”

You see, baptism began as a simple ritual washing, but it was transformed by Christ in this holy and sacred moment into a mark that is stamped on your soul and can never go away.
“You are mine,” God says.
“You are beloved,” God says.
“Don’t you ever forget how proud I am of you.”
This is who you are now.
This is your very identity.
Chosen and beloved of God.

Martin Luther once said that every time we wash our hands or our face we should remember our baptism.
Every time we should remember that we are a child of God.
In fact, he was known to often make the sign of a cross on his forehead and whisper softly to himself, “I am baptized.”

That might be easy to remember on the days when the sun is shining and all is right with the world, but it is something we need to remember on the tough days as well.
And, well, we’ve known some tough days lately.
Wednesday, as I was working on writing and praying over the star words that we mailed out this week I got a notification from a colleague that said, “turn on your television.”
I sat at my desk shaking, stunned by the images unfolding on the screen.
T-shirts celebrating the holocaust, the confederate flag paraded through the halls of congress, the large cross being erected on the lawn.
And so many were quick to say: “this is not who we are.”

Except, it is.
This world is broken, and bleeding, and bruised…
As my colleague Diane Kenaston wrote, “This is exactly who we are. We’re shaped by white supremacy, lust for power, violence, scapegoating, fear, and individualism. We’re shaped by sin. And it’s for that reason that we need the transforming love of God… This is who we are, but this is not who we have to be.”

We are called to claim an identity that calls us to love and serve and heal and forgive.
“You are mine,” God says. “You are beloved…. Don’t forget it.”
In the act of baptism in our tradition, it is not simply that God’s Spirit washes over us.
God gives us the power to actually be different.
And so with God’s help, we take vows.
We make promises to reject spiritual evil and the forces of this world.
We promise to resist injustice and oppression.
We promise to stand with God not political leaders… of either party.
We promise to trust in God’s grace.
And all of that becomes part of our identity, too.

Sometimes we are called to do that in small ways. Nadia Bolz-Weber writes:
“The first move of the devil is always the same. Attack your identity as the beloved with whom God is well pleased… nowhere are we more prone to encroaching darkness than when we are stepping into the light. If you have ever experienced sudden discouragement in the midst of healthy decisions, or if there is a toxic thought that will always send you spiraling down, or if there is a particular temptation that is your weakness, then I make the following suggestion: take a note from Martin Luther’s playbook and defiantly shout back at this darkness “I am Baptized”…”
She goes on to recount how when faced with his own doubt and discouragement Luther was known to throw ink pots or other small items in whatever direction he felt a sense of spiritual malevolence… he could sometimes be heard throughout the castle shouting “I AM BAPTIZED!”

I have to admit that this sermon was not only complete, but had already been printed and mailed out to about fifty households when I turned on the news on Wednesday afternoon.
And as I sat there at my desk I found myself whispering to myself… I am baptized… I am baptized…
But I also wondered how many of the people in that crowd had been baptized, too.
I wondered about how that moment might have been different if their pastor had told them that celebrating the holocaust was evil.
Or if their Sunday School teacher had commented on their facebook post and challenged their white supremacy.
Or if they had heard a sermon that made it clear our allegiance is to God and not the leaders of this world.
Or maybe if there had been someone in their life besides the leader of our country who told them… You are loved. You are special.
And then I wondered whether I had actually done… or if I have failed to do those things.
Where have I been complicit in this moment.

The words of my dear friend and colleague, Rev. Diane Kenaston keep ringing through my head.
“This is who we are, but this is not who we have to be.”
And as we come to these waters, we remember the identity that God calls us to embody.
And God gives us the strength to face the world in all of its reality.
Good and bad.
Tragedy and pain.
Joy and celebration.
And the Holy Spirit helps us to say yes to the things that bring life and no to the things that bring death.
But we cannot do it without our baptisms.
We cannot do it if we forget that the Spirit has our back.
“You are mine,” God says. “Chosen and marked by my love, pride of my life.”
In the midst of everything that is wrong, God pours sanctifying grace into our lives so that we can be different.
So that we can remember that we belong to God and that others belong to God, too.
So when violence breaks out we can stand for peace with justice and accountability.
When pain is felt, we can listen to the hurt and offer comfort without being overwhelmed.
When evil rears its ugly head, we can stand up, and let God shine through us.
And when we have failed, God forgives and renews and gives us the grace to try again.
Thanks be to God. Amen.

Recognizing the Messiah

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Text: Isaiah 49:1-7, John 1:29-42

It only takes a spark…

As I’ve shared with you in the past, my extended family has often been to Hawaii together. My grandpa and grandma were fairly blessed in their life and made the decision long ago to spend their money bringing us together than leave money to be fought over.

So growing up, what made these trips awesome was not just the location, but the uninterrupted week or two with family – playing, swimming, hiking, laughing.

One of our favorite adventures to do each trip is to hike the Diamond Head crater.

According to the souvenir t-shirt, the hike is:

0.7 mile long trail which is unpaved and has an uneven rock and dirt surface that may be loose and slippery in places. It leads through a dark tunnel and involves climbing a steep, 99-step concrete stairway and narrow spiral staircase inside an unlit bunker. The hike took about an hour up and 45 minutes back down.

Now, in reality, that’s not a bad trip… but when you consider that we normally make the hike with kids under the age of six, the trek suddenly becomes much longer.
Little feet get tired quickly and usually by the time we get a third of the way up the crater, someone wants to be carried.

So, I decided to start singing.
A simple call and response song the kids could repeat and had energy to keep their feet moving.
“the littlest worm”

Others chimed in and pretty soon, our whole group was singing our way up the crater.
We sang all sorts of camp songs and before the kids knew it, we had made it all the way to the top of the crater – and no one had been carried!

All it took was someone singing that first note and lighting the spark.

In many ways, that is what John the Baptist did so many years ago.

As we read this morning in the gospel, John saw Jesus walking by and said something.

Well, he didn’t just say something – John the Baptist called out: Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! Quite an introduction if you ask me!

The next day, John saw Jesus again and he shouted again, “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!”

And when his disciples heard it… they started to follow Jesus.

Not just that day. They stayed with him and then they too began to tell others the good news about Jesus.

It only takes a spark.

What does it mean to recognize the Messiah?
What does it mean to catch a glimpse of the light to all the nations?
And what does it look like to not just recognize this light, this Messiah, but to follow?
Does our encounter with this light of the world shape how we interact with others? How we share the good news?

In David Kinnaman’s 2007 book, unChristian, he presents research from the Barna Group on how young adults view Christians. Words like “antihomosexual”, “judgmental”, “hypocritical”, and “old-fashioned” top the list.
And not by slight margins. Over three-quarters of those interviewed would use those words.
We just can’t downplay, Kinnaman writes, “how firmly people reject – and feel rejected by – Christians.” (p19)

Those words might be surprising to you, but I’m married to someone has often said those exact things. Our friends are mostly outside of church circles, looking in, and they would say the same things.

And I think it is because somewhere along the way, we lost that first spark of John the Baptist and Andrew and Peter.

We find ourselves living in one of two extremes…

Sometimes the church claims to have the truth and light and acts with moral superiority over those who do not. Our light shines for others, but it is like the cold light of a neon sign – barking out truths, but not sharing the warmth of God’s love with them.

On the other hand, sometimes the church is turned inward on itself and afraid of what people will think if we talk about God. We are like those who have hidden their lamp under a bushel basket and the world can’t see the grace and mercy of our faith, because we are too timid to share it.

When you think about which of those two extremes gets more media coverage… which is more in the face of people who are outside the church and maybe it’s not so hard to see why those stereotypes of Christians among young people exist.

I think in many ways, this congregation is more like those in the second extreme.

I know that if people on the outside really got to know you and how you love and follow Jesus those adjectives wouldn’t be the first things that came to mind.

But are we actually out there, breaking down those barriers and stereotypes?
Does the fact that we follow Jesus make a difference in how we treat others?
Or, have we kept the good news locked up tight in our hearts?

Today is Human Relations Day and we remember that the church is called to: “recognize the right of all God’s children in realizing their potential as human beings in relationship with each other.”

On this day we remember that the light within us was meant to be a light to the nations and every person is a beloved child of God.

It is a reminder that the love of God that flows through us must be shared through actions as well as through words.

It is a reminder that a spark becomes a blazing fire only when we seek out others for the journey.

Look at those first followers of Christ, who selflessly loved other people and shared the light of God with them.
Daniel Clendenin at Journey with Jesus writes about how they chose to follow Jesus in words and deeds.
Like the Christ that they followed, they broke down social barriers.
They ignored religious taboos that judged people as clean or unclean, worthy or unworthy.
They subverted the power structures of their time that separated people by wealth, ethnicity, religion and gender.
And they didn’t allow their own interests to cloud the message about who Christ was, and is, and is to be.

First, look at John the Baptist.
He selflessly proclaimed Christ to the extent that his own followers left him.

While we sometimes think of John the Baptist as a solitary radical who lived in the wilderness and ate locusts, he had disciples.
These were people who believed his message and committed themselves to learning from him and supporting him.
Yet John did not allow his own interests get in the way of his message.

When he cried out that Jesus was the Lamb of God, his own followers stood up and literally began following Jesus down the road.

This spark that was let loose could not be controlled and like John the Baptist, we must be willing to let people follow another road and to go a different route if that is how they can best be in relationship with Christ.

I was a chaplain at a hospital one summer and met a woman newly diagnosed with leukemia.
She was terrified of death, of her “unfinished business” and wanted to know about God.
I had many conversations with her over the weeks and then months as she waited for a bone marrow transplant. We talked about Jesus and heaven and prayed through the psalms.

I felt like her pastor… but one morning I walked in and another was standing by her bed.
He was the pastor at her grandma’s Baptist church in her hometown.

I have to admit… I was a bit jealous and territorial at first.  But as heartbreaking as it was, I knew it was better for her to build a relationship with this pastor. By doing so, she could follow Christ more closely and have a church community to walk with.

Like John the Baptist, I had to let her go.

Sharing the good news of God isn’t about numbers or competition in how many followers we have.
It’s about working together to bring about the Kingdom.
And so John let his followers go.
He knew the light of Christ was bigger than his one small spark of light.

Second, look at how Christ himself invited those first disciples into a relationship.

When they heard this was the Lamb of God, they ran down the road to catch up to him.
And Jesus turns around and simply asks them: What are you looking for?

He doesn’t spout off four essential things you need to know to be a Christian.

He doesn’t make them pass a litmus test on what they believe about him.

He doesn’t ask them to join in the “sinner’s prayer.”

He asks them what they are seeking.

What are we looking for?
What do we hope to find?
Their response was really simple… maybe because they didn’t really know what to expect:
I want to know where you are staying.

And Jesus says: Come and See.

This short exchange between two seekers and Jesus tells us a lot about how the light of Christ can shine in our lives.
They are curious. They don’t have all the answers.
And Jesus gently affirms that reality.
He invites them to dip their toes in. To check it out for themselves.
He welcomes them into his life, knowing that by being in relationship with him, their lives will be transformed.

We don’t have to have it all together to follow Christ.
We don’t have to have a blazing fire built up in our hearts.
It only takes a spark.
Just a spark of curiousity.
Just a spark of desire for the God who created us.

This spring, I attended a continuing education event with Rev. Lillian Daniel, who leads a congregation in Dubuque.

She talked about how there are a lot of people in this world who identify as nones, who have no faith community they might identify with.

Some of those folks she describes as “dones.”  Maybe they were part of a church.  Maybe they were harmed or pushed away by people inside the church.  But for whatever reason – maybe even those adjectives and stereotypes mentioned before – they are done with the church.

But there are others who are “nones” but maybe could better be described as “not yets.”  They don’t know what they are missing.  They are curious.  They might walk into a church building and have no idea what a hymnal is or when to stand or sit and what they should wear.

But that doesn’t mean they aren’t curious.

That doesn’t mean they don’t have question.

That doesn’t mean a spark isn’t ready to ignite in their hearts.

If we follow Jesus, that spark will be enough to get us started.
Along the way, the more we see and experience and share our lives with God, the more the light of Christ will grow in us.

What I find amazing about this story is that after just one night in the presence of Jesus, Andrew decided he had to tell someone about his experience.
That little spark of light within him began to burn, began to glow and shine for others.
Andrew ran home and found his brother Simon.
And he didn’t just tell Simon about Jesus.
Andrew actually took Simon to meet him.
He helped Simon experience Jesus for himself.

Think about that difference.
That difference between telling someone about the love of God and helping them to experience it.

When we invite other people to ‘come’ – do they ‘see’ Jesus in our congregations?
Do we live our lives out there in the world in a way that others don’t just hear about Jesus, but actually experience the light of God through us?

Relationships are the primary way we share the good news of God with others.
And when we are truly in relationship with others, those negative stereotypes fall away.
We can be present, listening to their questions more than sharing our answers.
We can be honest about our own struggles, rather than worrying about appearing perfect. Because let’s be honest… we aren’t perfect and pretending to be so is where that whole “hypocritical” stereotype comes from.

During the season of Lent, coming up in about six weeks, we are going to explore together what it means to take that light out from hiding under the bushel basket.
What does it mean to unbind the gospel, to let the good news loose in our lives?
I’m really excited about the opportunity we are going to have to pray together and to learn new ways of sharing our faith with others.

Because you see, when we have a relationship with Jesus… when we follow him… it is not just something we have chosen to believe.
It is something we have experienced.
And it is a spark we can’t help but share with others.

I think in many ways, that tendency to want to hide our light under the bushel basket, to keep it locked up tight is precisely what Christian author Marianne Williamson was thinking of when she wrote:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

That spark of light is within you… don’t hide it.
You are a beloved child of God.
So let the love of God shine out through you!
Through you, through us, through this church, God’s salvation can truly reach the ends of the earth.

Renew Our Whereabouts

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Text: Isaiah 42:1-9, Matthew 3:13-17

This weekend, I’ve been gathered along with our confirmation students and mentors and teachers for a retreat. Our focus has been what makes us distinctly United Methodist. We’ve talked about our church structure, the way of discipleship, how we discover wo God is, and what we believe about grace.

Along the way, I keep thinking about how our time together was kind of a boot camp, a crash course in the foundations of who we are.

We’ve been talking about our shared theology as Christians and our place in the history of the church, but this was a chance to really step into a tradition.

To learn about it.
As questions.
Get ready to claim it as their own.

Earlier in the week, I read a lovely reflection by Debie Thomas. Her weekly essays at Journey with Jesus help pastors and laity alike reflect on the what the lectionary texts mean for us today.

This week, she wrote of her own experience being baptized and how it felt like such a personal commitment. She was choosing Jesus. It was all about her and her faith in that moment. As a young girl, she believed it was all about what she was doing, her obedience, her choice.

But when she thinks back on the story we just shared with you of Jesus going to the River Jordan to be baptized by John, she didn’t see it as a personal stepping out.

Instead, she saw it as stepping in.

“A stepping into a history, a lineage, a geography, an identity. In receiving baptism, Jesus doesn’t set himself apart from us; he aligns himself with us.”

For a normal person, that wouldn’t be a big deal…
To identify with others…
To join in what they were doing…

But this was Jesus!
He didn’t need us.
He didn’t need to repent and be forgiven.
He didn’t need to humble himself that way in those dirty waters of the river.

But he did.

Debie Thomas reminds us that the very first public act of Jesus was to step into our lives.
He submitted to John the Baptist… because he gives away his power.
He entered the Jordan River, that sacred place filled with so much history.

“Jesus stepped into the whole Story of God’s work on earth, and allowed that story to resonate, deepen, and find completion.”

Although it was only last week we were thinking about the babe in the manger and the wise ones who visited, this was really the first public act of Jesus.

For many at the time, this moment was the beginning of their encounter with Christ.
It was the first moment that they recognized what God was doing in their midst.
And when the Servant of God, the Beloved One, appeared before them, it wasn’t a spectacle.
It wasn’t to take over.
It wasn’t to transform everything in an moment.

It was an invitation.
An invitation for us to step in as well.
An invitation for us to surrender.
A invitation for us to enter that tradition, that history, that community of faith that has gone before us.

As Debie Thomas writes,

“To embrace Christ’s baptism story is to embrace the core truth that we are united, interdependent, connected, one. It is to sit with the staggering reality that we are deeply, deeply loved.”

I remember the day my youngest brother Darren was baptized.
He and my mom had transferred to a new church and they had missed a window for confirmation, so when it came around again, he signed up.

Unfortunately for Darren, this new church held confirmation during the seventh grade year, and he was a junior in high school.
He was about a foot and a half taller than the rest of his classmates, but Darren went through the entire class with them and was confirmed that spring.

I got to be there the day my little brother was confirmed and baptized and it was such a special moment.
All throughout the class, while he had been slightly out of place, those young kids looked up to him and they grew to be great friends.
As Darren knelt to be baptized, the pastor invited friends and family to come up and lay their hands on him.
Every single one of the kids in that confirmation class came forward and stood around us and reached out their hands to affirm and bless him.
It was quite powerful.

Darren’s baptism reminded me that whether we are young or old, whether we remember it happening to us or not, our baptisms are not private or personal events.

We are baptized in the midst of the church because those who surround us are also making commitments and vows:
the church affirms its own faith
the church pledges to act as spiritual mentors for those being baptized
the church vows their ongoing support.

In our United Methodist resources on baptism it claims that the covenant of baptism “connects God, the community of faith, and the person being baptized; all three are essential to the fulfillment of the baptismal covenant.”

Every baptism is a chance for the whole congregation to reaffirm our faith and to progress farther on the journey with Christ.

We are all stepping into live together.
“United, interdependent, connected, one.”
We are remembering that each of us, every single one, is deeply loved.

And whenever we remember our baptisms,
We have a chance to refocus on Jesus.
We have a chance to renew our whereabouts.
We have a chance to re-engage our spirits.

As we heard from the book of Isaiah this morning:
“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations… I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness… I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations”

And this calling, this ministry is sealed when the Spirit of the Lord descends upon him in the waters of the River Jordan.

We are remind of the spirit of God hovering over the waters in creation and God speaking, “Let there be light.”

God shows up and new life is among us.
The new creation.
New things that God declares.
A new journey for us to take.

And through our baptism, Isaiah’s servant of God… Matthew’s beloved… invites us to follow.
The light of Christ becomes part of us.
His mission becomes our own.
His journey becomes our path.

I’m reminded of a poem from Wendell Berry called the Gift of Gravity.

For those of you who don’t know Berry, he is a writer and a farmer from Kentucky who often writes about the ordinary and mundane ways that God shows up in our lives. Hear these words about the river, about the light, about the cycle of giving and taking.

All that passes descends,
and ascends again unseen
into the light: the river
coming down from sky
to hills, from hills to sea,
and carving as it moves,
to rise invisible,
gathered to light, to return
again… “The river’s injury
is its shape.” I’ve learned no more.
We are what we are given
and what is taken away;
blessed be the name
of the giver and taker.
For everything that comes
is a gift, the meaning always
carried out of sight
to renew our whereabouts,
always a starting place.
And every gift is perfect
in its beginning, for it
is “from above, and cometh down
from the Father of lights.”
Gravity is grace.

The rain and snow that falls upon us comes from God.
It washes us clean.
It surrounds us and refreshes the ground upon which we walk…
But the light comes down from God as well.
It melts the snow and ice and warms the earth and the moisture evaporates.

It is a cycle necessary for life.
“for everything that comes/ is a gift, the meaning always/ carried out of sight/ to renew our whereabouts,/ always a starting place.”

To renew our whereabouts… always a starting place.

Like rain and light, grace is poured down upon us from God.

Whether you first stepped into the faith through baptism 1 year ago or 90 years ago, grace always gives us a fresh start.

As Berry writes, it comes down upon us to renew our whereabouts… it is always a starting place.

These waters are new life for us now.
They are the chance to re-enter the journey.
To recommit to these people.
To re-energize your spirit.
To refocus on Jesus.

After all, as Debie Thomas reminds us,

“He’s the one who opens the barrier, and shows us the God we long for. He’s the one who stands in line with us at the water’s edge, willing to immerse himself in shame, scandal, repentance, and pain — all so that we might hear the only Voice that will tell us who we are and whose we are in this sacred season. Listen. We are God’s chosen. God’s children. God’s own. Even in the deepest, darkest water, we are the Beloved.”

This is the promise of God… Amen.

Bible 101: Quantum Mechanics, Elephants, and JEPD

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Text: Selections (interwoven) from Mark 1, Matthew 3, Luke 3, John 1 on John the Baptist and the Baptism of Jesus

In Western Christianity, we want to know the right answer.

We have been conditioned, educated, by our schools, our philosophy, our churches, to look at facts and to believe there is only one truth.

2+2=4

Washington D.C. is the capital of the United States.

This is a glass of water… well, I supposed you are taking my word for that one… but at least we would agree it is a glass.

And, this book, the Bible, is the word of God for the people of God… thanks be to God.

We open up its pages and read a single verse or passage of scripture and because this book is true, we think – “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.”

 

But embracing only one right answer, only one perspective is not the way other cultures around the world or throughout history have approached the truth.

Consider the Indian parable about the blind men and the elephant.

Six blind men thought they were very clever.  One day, an elephant came into their town.  Now these blind men did not know what an elephant looked like, but they could smell it and they could hear it.  “What is this animal like?” they said.  Each man reached out to touch and feel with their own hands.  Without realizing it, they each grasped a different part of the elephant.

The first man touched the elephant’s body.  It felt hard, big, and wide.  “An elephant is like a wall!” he said.

The second man touched one of the elephant’s tusks. It felt smooth and hard and sharp. ‘An elephant is like a spear’ he said.

The third man touched the elephant’s trunk. It felt long and thin and wiggly. ‘An elephant is like a snake’ he said.

The fourth man touched on of the legs. It felt thick and rough and hard and round. ‘An elephant is like a tree’ he said.

The fifth man touched one of the elephant’s ears. It felt thin and it moved. ‘An elephant is like a fan’ he said.

The sixth man touched the elephant’s tail. It felt long and thin and strong. ‘An elephant is like a rope’ he said.

The men began to argue.  But a little girl heard them and said, “Each of you is right, but you are all wrong.”

In the parable, it is only when each person’s experience and perspective is combined with that of the others that the truth is discovered.   They were each right… and they were each wrong.

Or, as the Apostle Paul later put it in his letter to the Corinthians “now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.  Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” (1 Cor 13)

 

What I find fascinating is that we have traveled a long way from the way Paul saw the world to the way that we have been taught to see the world through a modern, Western lens.

Western thought has led us to believe that there is only one objective reality and therefore only one answer to be found for the questions we seek… but modern science is beginning to shatter those understandings and in fact take us back to ancient was of understanding reality.  So… we are going to take a quick dive into the field of quantum mechanics.  Now, I LOVE science.  I was a physics minor in college and what I discovered with nearly every class I took on cosmology or space-time relativity is that the deeper I got into the science, the more faith questions I had.  The more I discovered just how awesome and complex and mysterious the world is.  The deeper I went in my understanding of God.

We all know that our body is made of cells. Those cells are in turn made of atoms.  And atoms are made up of even smaller particles – neutrons, protons, and electrons.  And there are also subatomic particles like photons, quarks, and neutrinos.

What we have discovered is that these quantum particles refuse to be put in a box.  Sometimes they act like particles… other times they act like waves.

In fact, there is an experiment that was designed to try to figure out once and for all what these subatomic particles are.  They took a photon gun and shot individual photons at a slit to determine how it interacted with the material behind it.

I’m going to use an illustration of this that I heard from Science Mike on the Liturgists podcast.… Imagine if you had a large 8’ by 8’ metal plate with a gigantic slit down the middle and shot a golf ball at it, you would expect to see an indentation the shape of a golf ball on the other side.  If you shot a hundred golf balls at this plate, some might bounce off, but others would hit that slit and you would end up with an impression the same shape as the slit on your surface.  That’s the way any particle behaves when it is shot at a sensor with one slit.

Now it is hard to imagine how a wave might make a different impact, but imagine this… IF however, you filled the room with water and dropped a bowling ball in the space, it would create ripples, waves, and that same slit could be used to measure the pressure of the incoming waves. You won’t see indentations… you’d see the impact of the energy from the wave instead. Same metal plate, same slit, but the measurement you get looks very different because what you are tracking is a wave.

Waves and particles act differently and create different impressions. So you can use the exact same device and determine what is being shot at the plate.

Now… imagine there were two slits.

Do the same experiments again and you would discover with the golf balls, our scaled up particles, that you would have two identical impressions left in each of the two slits from the impacts.

But… with the waves, what you would instead see is an overlap as the waves interact and interfere with one another.

 

So what has happened when we have done the same tests with photons, with these quantum particles, is that in a single slit experiment, it acts like a particle.  It leaves an impression.  But when you add a second slit, they act like waves and you see interference.  When you add more sensors… they begin to act like particles again.

In fact, physicists today are running these sorts of weird quantum experiments and are now starting to wonder if what we think is reality doesn’t really exist in the way we think it does until we start to measure it.   It’s like that old saying, if a tree falls in a forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?   Well? Does it?   And the more measurements we do, the more solid and real and identifiable any particular quantum particle becomes.

It’s the story of the blind men and the elephant all over again. The more data, the more observers, the more perspectives, the closer to reality you come.

This is actually a way of thinking about the universe and existence and truth that has been shared by Eastern cultures and philosophies for millenia…. We learn more about reality by sharing perspectives.  Each person, each sensor, each perspective gives you a point of information, but it is the intersection of multiple points that gives us insight.

Or as Science Mike puts it in the Liturgists podcast, “literally, additional observers make the universe exist in Quantum mechanics.”

 

The cultures and peoples that were inspired by God to write this sacred text were comfortable embracing many perspectives.  To be honest, the authors of scripture were not really concerned with the details what really happened.  They were not seeking one singular answer to the questions they were asking but were trying to explain how God showed up in their lives and their experiences.

And, the Bible did not arrive on the planet as one pre-packaged and published manuscript.  All of these stories and writings and teachings were arranged and put together by later editors and chroniclers.  They recognized the limitations of human knowledge and understood that truth comes out of the wrestling that happens as we seek to find meaning in a multiplicity of perspectives.

 

One example of this is the composition of the first five books of scripture: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy.  The Torah… or the Teachings of Moses.

As biblical scholars have wrestled with how to make sense of some of the contradictions and repetitive stories within these books, there became a theory that rather than these five books being one composite teaching, all written by one person, Moses, it is likely a combination of different traditions, from different perspectives, all woven together at a later time.  While we love the idea that Moses sat down with a quill and a scroll and wrote all of these words himself, what we know is that many of these stories were passed down through oral traditions.  And just like different members of the family might tell a story differently… same story, same truth, but slightly different perspectives, our scriptural stories were passed down the same way.

At some point, those stories were all woven together. And while we might prefer a neat and tidy compilation where each tradition and perspective is clearly identifiable, that wasn’t important to people in the past.  It was how they were woven together that made the scripture come alive.

And so there is this theory that tries to pick back apart those different strands.  This is the JEPD theory…  Where each letter identifies the source and the background.

The Jawist (Yahwist) story begins in Genesis 2 – and it includes much of Genesis and parts of Exodus and Numbers.  God is personal and reaches out in the lives of people.

The Elohist describes God not as Yahweh, but as El or Elohim.  This is like Aunt Sally’s version of the same events, but she uses a different name for God.

The Priestly tradition likely comes from around 500 years before the birth of Christ and the stories that it tells often relate to worship and order and the temple.  Genesis 1 is understood to be from this tradition… as are the parts of the story from Noah and the ark that talk about not two of every animal, but seven pairs of each of the clean animals… Because you need additional animals to sacrifice!

And the Deuteronomist is responsible for the final book of the Torah.  The name literally means, second law, and it was a rediscovering or a retelling of the law for a later generation of people.  The stories are often told, as a result, with the knowledge of hindsight.

So… how was the earth created?  It depends on if you are looking at the Priestly writer in Genesis 1… or the Jawist in Genesis 2… and what about John chapter 1 “In the beginning was the word and the word was God and the word was with God and all things came into being through him?” … but in the Jewish understanding of scripture, that wasn’t the question they were asking.  They didn’t want to know one concrete answer and objective truth… they simply wanted to know who they were and how God wanted them to live… and it is all of those stories, woven together, both a cosmic, orderly God and a deeply personal and intimate God that gets us closer to the truth of the mysterious nature of it all.

 

But maybe the most easily identifiable example of this, are our four gospels.

Four stories.

Four perspectives.

Each sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with the world.

And yet, they tell that story in completely different ways.

The facts are different.  The timeline is off.  The people who are important vary.

Believe it or not, aside from the events of what we know today as Holy Week – Jesus’ trial and crucifixion, and resurrection – there are only two stories that all four gospels share in common:

The baptism of Jesus and the feeding of the five thousand.

And as we heard this morning with the four voices reading this shared narrative, each gospel writer has their own take on the events of the day.

Matthew is writing to a Jewish audience and does his best to connect everything that happens with what has come before.  “It is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

Luke’s gospel is meant for people who are outside of the Jewish context and so his connection points are more personal as he invites Gentiles to change their lives in light of Jesus’ actions.

Mark is a short, fast-paced telling of the life of Jesus, probably designed to make it really easy to memorize and share.

And John? Well, John is totally different from the other three.  In fact, Matthew, Mark and Luke are often called the “synoptic gospels” because they see through a common lens.  But John cares less about the details of the narrative.  John focuses on the divine, on miracles, on the difference Jesus makes for the world, rather than in any individual life.

 

One way to think of these four gospels is to imagine them as four different cable news networks.  Each has a different audience.  Each has a different bias.  And each approaches the way they communicate the truth with those things in mind.

And there came a day when religious leaders sat down and tried to figure out which of the stories about Jesus were the ones that really captured the truth.  And they had a choice to make.  Do we include just one version?  Do we include two?  No, they included all four of these gospels… those who were inspired to put them together in this particular way into our Bible knew that it was only by holding all four of these perspectives together, in tension, looking not at the parts, but at the whole, that we would even begin to be able to grasp what is True (with a capital T).

We can’t point to a single verse and capture “the answer” to the questions we ask anymore than in the parable any one of those six blind men’s experience would have captured the fullness of what an elephant is.

Like soundbites and talking points today, on their own they will never contain the fullness of the story or the complexity of the truth.  But when we read it all together, when we seek to balance out our own biases, then like the blind men in the parable, or the scientists measuring from different perspectives, we can start to recognize the bigger truths.

That is why we need to read scripture.

That is why we have to read ALLof scripture.

That is why we need to take the time to balance our perspectives and not search for quick and easy answers.

God does not fit into a box.

And the truth of God is more complicated and awesome than any verse or chapter or book.

And that is an amazing, beautiful, and holy thing.

Prepare the Way

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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…

We Have Found the Messiah

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“I am not the Messiah”

That’s probably pretty obvious to all of you.  Of course, I’m not the Messiah.

But I wasn’t talking about me.

These were the words of John the Baptist as he started his ministry.

He was out there, talking to people about the coming Kingdom of God, preaching, inviting people to repent… well, actually, doing things that I typically do as a pastor.  

And people started to wonder about him.

Who are you?

Are you Elijah?

Are you a prophet?

Are you the Christ?

“I am not the Messiah” he answered.

“I’m just a voice, crying out in the wilderness, making the Lord’s path straight.”

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it might mean to make the Lord’s path straight and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s really about making it easier for people to connect with God.

If you go back to the origins of the phrase from Isaiah, the Hebrew word used in this passage actually means to clear the land… to remove the rocks and roots and everything that gets in the way so that something new can be planted, so that something new can be done.

John was someone who was called to help clear out the obstacles that prevent people from experiencing God.  To clear the way for God’s salvation.

 

And so in our passage today, we hear about what happens when the Messiah does show up.  John is out there, doing his job and Jesus comes to be baptized… by him!    He has this amazing experience and vision and realizes that THIS is the Messiah.  THIS is the one they had been waiting for. 

But John’s job isn’t finished. 

 

No, John’s role is to keep pointing to Jesus, to keep making it easy for people to come and discover the Messiah for themselves.  

And so the next day, John is hanging out with two of his own disciples.  And when he sees Jesus walking by, he cries out:  “Look!  It’s the Lamb of God!  That’s him!  That’s the one I was telling you about!”    

And so these two start to follow Jesus.  And then they reach out and invite others to come and see.  “We have found the Messiah!” they tell their friends and neighbors and siblings.  “Come and see!”

 

In many ways, the beginnings of the church was a pyramid scheme.

You find one person, and that person finds two people, and then those two people each find two people, and then those two people… and before you know it, there are 2.2 billion followers of Jesus Christ in the world.   

 

The question I want to explore this morning is how you and I are called to keep this church going.  In many ways, our job is simple.  We have found the Messiah!  We don’t have to BE the Messiah.  We don’t have to save this world all by ourselves.  We don’t have to single handedly run this thing or be perfect or fulfill every obligation.  

We have found the Messiah.  We already have someone who can do that.

 

No, I think you and I have two jobs.  

 

First,  it is state loudly and clearly to all the world that “I am not the Messiah.”

Will you repeat that with me?  “I am not the Messiah”

Let’s say it like we really mean it: “ I AM NOT THE MESSIAH.”

That might seem like a strange exercise, but the truth is, we aren’t perfect.  We are totally unworthy of this calling.  We will make mistakes all the time.

In fact, we are only 15 days into this year and I have already made a bunch of small mistakes and a couple of big ones.  But I learn from them.  I keep going.  I try to grow and do better the next  time.  That is all that we can do. 

One of my own failings is that sometimes I set the bar too high.  And I’ve heard from some of you, who are overwhelmed that you don’t feel like you are good enough or can do enough for the church.  And I’ve heard from some of you that you are burnt out and tired and trying to do all that you can, but you simply can’t do any more.  

You know what?  None of us are the Messiah.

None of us are good enough to be here.  And we all have some kind of brokenness in our lives – be it a broken relationship or our bodies are broken and letting us down or we’ve broken promises to ourselves or others.  

We aren’t perfect.  And we aren’t supposed to be. We are not the Messiah.

 

But we ARE here today, because we think we have found the Messiah.  

I am part of the church, not because it’s a community of perfect people who never make mistakes or let one another down, but because I believe that this is a place where broken people find healing.  

I am part of the church because this is where I hear the stories of Jesus Christ and in the midst of the brokenness, I meet Jesus all the time.

Rachel Held Evans is a Christian writer and blogger and recent talked about why people come to church. And she said:

You can get a cup of coffee with your friends anywhere, but church is the only place you can get ashes smudged on your forehead as a reminder of your mortality. You can be dazzled by a light show at a concert on any given weekend, but church is the only place that fills a sanctuary with candlelight and hymns on Christmas Eve. You can snag all sorts of free swag for brand loyalty online, but church is the only place where you are named a beloved child of God with a cold plunge into the water. You can share food with the hungry at any homeless shelter, but only the church teaches that a shared meal brings us into the very presence of God.

What finally brought me back, after years of running away, wasn’t lattes or skinny jeans; it was the sacraments. Baptism, confession, Communion, preaching the Word, anointing the sick — you know, those strange rituals and traditions Christians have been practicing for the past 2,000 years. The sacraments are what make the church relevant, no matter the culture or era. They don’t need to be repackaged or rebranded; they just need to be practiced, offered and explained in the context of a loving, authentic and inclusive community.  (https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/jesus-doesnt-tweet/2015/04/30/fb07ef1a-ed01-11e4-8666-a1d756d0218e_story.html?utm_term=.14f389a46dd4)

And so our second job is to make it easier for people to come and meet the Messiah. To clear the way.  To invite our friends and neighbors and siblings to join us on this journey.  To ask them to come and see what it is that we have found here:  life in the midst of death, healing in the midst of struggle, hope in our despair, forgiveness in our mistakes.

 

Our Administrative Council has been wrestling over the last few months with what we want to set as goals for this church in 2017.  And part of what we have been doing is looking forward as well to what God is calling us to as a church.

We’ve had a vision for the last four or five years to “Live a life, in Christ, of love, service, and prayer”   and part of what I have been pushing them, and us, to think about is so what?  

What is going to be different in this world because we have done so?  

 

You know, the meaning of “salvation” is “to heal.”  It is God’s deliverance of those in a situation of need, resulting in their restoration to wholeness.  

Taking what is broken and making it whole.  

That’s the business God is in.

What if that is the business we were called to be in?

We are not the Messiah, but we are here, because we have experienced God’s love, grace, and healing power.  

So what if we lived in such a way, if we loved in such a way, if we served in such a way, if we prayed in such a way that we could clear a path for others to come and find Jesus here, too.

 

In a few minutes, we are going to take a moment to remember our baptism.  We are going to remember that we have been saved and healed and are being made whole by the Lord Jesus Christ.    

And part of this rememberance is being honest about just how fall we have fallen short.  We have ALL fallen short.  None of us are perfect.  We are not the Messiah.

But we will also be invited to make anew some promises to God.  

Because, we might not be the Messiah, but we, the church, believe that God can use us and use our gifts to help make it easier for others to come and find Jesus, too.  

And so our covenant prayer simply places our lives in God’s hands.  It invites us to remember that we are not the Savior, but that we are willing to let God work in our lives this year.  

 

I am not the Messiah.

You are not the Messiah.

But we have found the Messiah.  

Thanks be to God.

 

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It was a Monday afternoon, in Marengo, and a young woman walked into the church and asked to use the telephone.

Not a problem, I said.

And while she sat in the office dialing numbers and getting no response, I sat at my desk trying to pick out hymns for worship the next Sunday. Are you stranded? I asked.

I learned that Maria had just been released from the county jail, was far from home, and no one was coming to get her.

She finally got a hold of a friend or a neighbor… someone she thought might help and was chewed out over the phone.

She hung up in frustration. Maria had no options.

She was seven months pregnant, in Marengo with no vehicle or ride, and needed to get home to the Quad Cities to her kids.

In Isaiah chapter 40, the prophet is moved to share God’s compassion for the people of Israel in exile. He gave them words of comfort in the midst of their trial and tribulation. And then Isaiah hears a voice:

In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.

He was to tell the people that EVERY obstacle that came between them and their salvation and their home was being removed.

In this time of worship, let us listen once again for the cry of the prophets.

****

I think about that woman often.

I thought about her as a group of us gathered in Ankeny about a month ago for the “Right Next Door” Conference and as we were surrounded by all of these people.

They represented those we knew, and people we have yet to come to know, who are impacted by addiction, domestic violence, incarceration, human trafficking…

We were invited to open our eyes and our minds and our hearts to see them… and us… in a new way.

Because, let’s be honest: we, too, have been impacted by these things.

We are not immune to the realities of alcohol or drugs, abuse, crime, or sex.

But we often leave those parts of our lives outside of the church.

Friends, those realities are deeply part of who we are and ignoring them or pretending they don’t exist can keep us from relationship with God.

Those people in exile saw an immense gulf separating them from their home and their God. Valleys of sin and mountains of guilt lie between them and the Lord.

We face those obstacles, but I’m increasingly aware that some of the mountains and valleys that keep people from the Lord include artificial barriers we put up to “protect” the church.

It is not just their past that keeps people like Michael or Maria from walking in the doors of the church.

So my question for us to ponder is this: What are the barriers we put up as a church? What keeps people who are struggling from having a relationship with God in this place?

 

****

A voice is crying out in the wilderness:

Prepare the way of the Lord!

Make it easier for people to come to God!

Help clear out a path!

Make a smooth and straight road for the Lord to come.

 

Maria found the courage to walk across the street to the church and ask to use the phone.

And I’m going to be honest, there are all sorts of mountains and valleys that might have kept me from helping her.

  • I was there in the building alone and I had been fighting the suggestions that I keep the doors locked when it was just me there.
  • I was in the middle of trying to get some work done and I was really busy.
  • She had just been released from prison.
  • I didn’t know if she was feeding me a line or if she was telling the truth.
  • I didn’t know if she was safe to be around.

Prepare the way of the Lord!

The door was open and I invited her in. I sat with her as she made her phone call.

 

Make it easier for people to come to God!

I passed the box of Kleenex when she felt betrayed and abandoned by her friend on the phone. And, knowing she was at the end of her rope, I asked if she needed a ride.

 

Make smooth and straight the road for the Lord to come!

We gathered up her bag and I set aside my work, and on the way out the door, she asked if she could have one of the bibles on the shelf. We got in my car and drove 90 some miles to get her home.

 

Some of you might be thinking that I am incredibly naïve and too trusting.

But I think that we, as people of faith, aren’t foolish enough.

We are called to prepare the way of the Lord – and that means knocking down barriers and building up gaps in this world.

We are called to take up our cross and follow Jesus wherever he leads us.

We are called to take risks in order to care for the least and the last and the lost of this world.

We are called to walk through the valley of the shadow of death and to eat in the presence of our enemies.

We are called to be vulnerable with one another and admit our faults and our weakness.

Over and over again, we hear God tell us: Do NOT be afraid, for I am with you.

 

And perhaps what is more naïve is to imagine that sin and danger exists only outside the walls of this church.

There are people in this room who are in recovery or who love someone who is… just as there are people in this room who are in denial about needing help.

Some people in this church have experienced abuse as a child or a spouse… and there are people in this room are abusers.

Our congregation has members who have been in prison or who love people who are in prison.

In this room, there are those who have visited pornography sites and probably even men who have frequented prostitutes.

We just don’t talk about it.

 

We are entering the season of Advent and the first character we discover is a prophet named John the Baptist.

He wasn’t afraid of what others thought.

He wasn’t afraid of what might happen to his own life.

He wasn’t afraid to tell the truth.

And He prepared the way for countless people to let go of their old lives and embrace God’s love.

 

He prepared the way of the Lord by calling people out to the river… to a space carved out for people to be honest about who they are… a space where they could name and repent of their sins… a space where they could receive forgiveness and new life.

 

He carved out a clear path for all people… no matter who they were… to come and be in God’s presence.

 

Isn’t that what church is supposed to be all about?