salvagedfaith

A Nap and a Snack

Posted on September 8, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Psalm 42 and 1 Kings 19:1-15a

Blessed are the crazy.
Blessed are those who experience feelings of anxiety and are consumed by worry.
Blessed are those who have suicidal thoughts.
Blessed are those who have survived trauma.
Blessed are those are trapped in cycles of addiction.
Blessed are the crazy.
Blessed.

That isn’t the first word that we often use to talk about mental illness.
In fact, we rarely talk about it in the walls of the church and when we do, it is often sitting around the couches in my office, or whispered to your neighbor at coffee time, rather than out in the open.
And rather than any spirit of blessedness, we share those stories with a sense of shame or confusion or judgement.

The first person I knew with a mental illness was my friend’s mother.
That doesn’t mean there weren’t other people in my life… we just never talked about it.
But there was always this sense of embarrassment from him that she wasn’t like the other moms. And I experienced that myself when we hung out. She would hole up for days at a time and not really talk with anyone. She had no energy to take care of anyone else and so he really learned how to take care of himself.
But she would also get on these kicks and you absolutely had to stay out of her way while she dove into a craft project and took over the house. Everything else got put to the side… including my friend.
Later, we came to understand she was struggling with manic depression and with medication her life has evened out a little bit more.
But at the time, it was hard not to feel resentment for the ways that our lives had to accommodate hers or frustration that she wasn’t “normal.”
We certainly never thought of her as blessed.
And yet, we wouldn’t necessarily call the poor and the hungry, the grieving and the persecuted blessed either.
But Jesus did.
Jesus declares in the Beatitudes of Matthew 5 and Luke 6 an upside-down, counter-intuitive vision of the world.
Sometimes we think of each of those beatitudes as characteristics that we are called to embody: meekness, peacemaking, etc…
But as Alan Brehm notes, that is only a secondary point.
The primary message is that God’s blessing has been poured out on those who expose their vulnerability. They declare that “those whom society has deemed unfortunate are truly blessed in God’s realm. It says that those who have no reason in this world for hope or joy, those who have been deprived of their fair share of goodness and justice – those are the ones for whom God’s kingdom… are incredible gifts.”
So yes, blessed are the crazy… for they shall receive mercy, compassion, and love.

Each week of this series, we are going to dive into scripture and look at how those blessings arrive for people who are struggling with their mental health.

Today’s story focuses on the prophet Elijah.
Depression might not have been a chronic struggle for him, but it was certainly situational.
A new king had arisen in the land, Ahab and his wife Jezebel, and they were no friends of God.
Elijah and other prophets were called to speak God’s word of judgment upon their reign and were persecuted as a result. About a hundred of them went into hiding, but the rest were executed.
Remaining faithful to his calling, Elijah publicly challenged the prophets of Baal and Asherah to a contest, which is described in the chapter just before our reading this morning. God’s power shows up, and Ahab and Jezebel’s prophets are put to shame and killed.

Now, Elijah’s life is really in danger. Furious with her defeat, Jezebel vows to hunt down and kill him.
He is terrified and alone and sinks into a state of severe depression.
Sitting under a bush in the middle of the desert, he wants nothing more than death.
I find his story echoed in the words of Psalm 42 and I invite you to hear selected verses again from the Message translation:

I’m on a diet of tears—
tears for breakfast, tears for supper.
All day long
people knock at my door,
Pestering,
“Where is this God of yours?”
These are the things I go over and over,
emptying out the pockets of my life.
I was always at the head of the worshiping crowd,
right out in front,
Leading them all,
eager to arrive and worship,
Shouting praises, singing thanksgiving—
celebrating, all of us, God’s feast!…
Sometimes I ask God, my rock-solid God,
“Why did you let me down?
Why am I walking around in tears,
harassed by enemies?”
They’re out for the kill, these
tormentors with their obscenities,
Taunting day after day,
“Where is this God of yours?”
Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
soon I’ll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
He’s my God.

Here is a faithful servant of God, who intimately knows God’s power and yet he cannot find the strength to keep going.
In her book, Blessed are the Crazy, Sarah Griffith Lund reminds us,

“Faith is not an anti-depressant. It cannot be swallowed in order to rewire our brains for happiness. Rather, faith allows us to accept the coexistence of God and suffering. We do not have to choose between two realities, because, if we did, God would have to go. There is no way we could deny the existence of suffering. I believe God exists in this messed up world, and, in the moments of greatest pain, God is there to wipe away our tears. After all, we aren’t the only ones crying. God is crying too.”

Wallowing in grief, exhaustion, and depression, Elijah has faith and still can’t take another step.
“It’s more than enough, Lord!” he cries out.

Does God tell him to suck it up?
Does God push him to get over it?
Does God get embarrassed by the weary state of his servant?
Does God resent that this so-called prophet just can’t do it right now?
No.
Blessed are the crazy.
Blessed are the depressed and anxious.
Blessed are those at the end of their rope.

God accepts Elijah right where he is and accompanies him through this time in the wilderness.
God gives him the space he needs to take care of himself and his needs.
And you know what Elijah desperately needs?
He needs a nap.
And so he lies down under that bush and God lets him sleep.
And then God sends a messenger, because sleep is not the only thing we need to take care of our body, mind, and spirit…
A messenger that sends food.
Bread, baking on a stone.
A jar of cool water.
Elijah eats and then sleeps again.
And God is there, watching over him. Caring for him. Accompanying him through this dark night of the soul, this wilderness journey.
And God sends a messenger to nudge him again, encouraging him to eat once again.

God shows up in the midst of Elijah’s depression. God speaks to him… not through earthquake and wind and fire – not through judgment or anger or force… but through the silence.
In the thin and quiet moment God speaks.
God is present.

How then should we show up for one another?
Do we avoid our friends or loved ones who are depressed?
Are we embarrassed by them or urge them to just get over it?
Or do we accompany them?
Do we make sure their needs are cared for?
Do we show up and simply be present with them?

As I have spent time with people who suffer from chronic diseases, including depression, one of the tools that can be really helpful was introduced by Christine Miserandino. It is called Spoon Theory, and it describes the amount of energy certain tasks that we undertake in a day might require for someone who is struggling with their mental or physical health.
If on any given day, we only have 12 spoons worth of energy to spend, we have to make choices about what those things are.
Simply getting out of bed in the morning takes energy. (one spoon)
Getting dressed and taking my medicine takes another spoon each (two spoons).
If it is a work day, I need to shower and eat (four more spoons)
And then work itself, which takes a lot of energy (four spoons).
That right there has spent eleven of the twelve spoons I might have in a day.
Any energy to clean or care for others or exercise is already spent.

The other key component of spoon theory is that sometimes, in order to do something you need to do, you have to borrow spoons from another day. If you have to give extra… it means that the next day you can’t start with twelve new spoons… you start with a deficit.
When I think about the intense experience that Elijah underwent, challenging those prophets of Baal and Asherah and then fleeing for his life, it is no wonder that all he could do the next day was sleep and eat and sleep some more.

And so when we find ourselves in these seasons, we have to learn how to be gentle with ourselves, be wise with our decisions, ask for help when needed.
And we need to have a spirit of compassion and kindness towards those among us who are literally giving all the energy they can muster just to show up or get out of bed in the morning. We can practice the patience of God and we can show up to accompany our loved ones through their wilderness.

There are, of course, other ways that we can build resiliency and strengthen our mental health so that we might come out of that wilderness season.
Just like we can improve our physical health by eating right and exercising, our mental health takes a little bit of work.
At the bottom of your insert you will see a few tools that are really common sense things that it is helpful to be reminded really work.
We can connect…. Stay positive… create joy… care for our spirits… and all of these things will help increase our capacity for mental health.
In fact, something as simple as a smile can make a difference, and so that is why with our pancake breakfast this morning we are encouraging you to dress up your pancake with a smile and to share your face for mental health awareness.

Mental health isn’t a solitary journey. So let us walk it together and let us surround one another in prayer, love and compassion.
For blessed are the crazy.

Sing! Play! Summer! – How Great Thou Art

Posted on September 1, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Psalm 8

There are moments in our lives when we cannot help but sing our praises to the Creator of the universe.

Maybe you’ve felt it standing on the side of a mountain…
resting on the sand with your toes in the ocean…
quietly sitting on a deer stand in the middle of the woods…
kneeling in the garden amongst the zinnias…
staring up into the heavens on a cool dark night…

That sense of awe.
Wonder.
Majesty.

Swedish pastor Carl Boberg had those feelings overcome him in the aftermath of a thunderstorm.
As he later reflected:
It was that time of year when everything seemed to be in its richest colouring; the birds were singing in trees and everywhere. It was very warm; a thunderstorm appeared on the horizon and soon there was thunder and lightning. We had to hurry to shelter. But the storm was soon over and the clear sky appeared.
When I came home I opened my window toward the sea. There evidently had been a funeral and the bells were playing the tune of “When eternity’s clock calls my saved soul to its Sabbath rest”. That evening, I wrote the song, “O Store Gud”.

As a paraphrase and reflection on Psalm 8, it allows us to pause in praise as we reflect on the wonders of creation. How could we not think of the Creator? How could we not sing of the Lord’s goodness?
As I’ve shared with you over these years, astronomy and physics have always had a special place in my own call story. While I began my studies seeking to better understand the universe, that search led me straight to religion and faith and deeper questions about God.
Dr. Olsgaard and I were working on an independent study when he handed me this book, God and the Astronomers, where Robert Jastrow describes precisely this shift:
It is not a matter of another year, another decade of work, another measurement, or another theory; at this moment it seems as though science will never be able to raise the curtain on the mystery of creation… [the scientist] has scaled the mountains of ignorance; he is about to conquer the highest peak; as he pulls himself over the final rock, he is greeted by a band of theologians who have been sitting there for centuries. (p. 106)
When we stop.
Really stop.
Stop and think about the vastness of the universe, the mystery of how it all came to be…
How could we not worship and bless God’s name?

So this morning, as we think about this hymn, I want us to spend some time in awesome wonder considering the world’s that God has made and our place in it.
And rather than talk about it, I want to invite you to see it from a new perspective with this short film from National Geographic.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee… how great thou art.

You know it is amazing to hear those voices of astronauts who describe being able to hide the whole planet behind their thumb.
Just as the psalmist invites us to notice, when we start to pay attention to this great expansive cosmos… we begin to recognize just how small we are.
Just how insignificant our place.
Just how little we know.
And the incredible wonder that the Creator who made all of that, also made me.

Who am I in vastness of the universe?
As Eugene Peterson writes in the Message translation of Psalm 8 asks God:
Why do you both with us? Why take a second look our way?

Who am I that God would notice me… much less come to earth, take on human life, live and die for me?

The version of “How Great Thou Art” that has made its way into our hymnals and hearts holds in tension that awe of creation and the story of redemption and salvation.
As many of the songs we have experienced this summer, the hymns journey from the original author to our hymnals was long and winding and was carried by missionaries. Originally, the eight verses were sung to a Swedish folk tune and was published in the songbook of the Mission Covenant Church of Sweden.
In the early 1900s it was translated to German by a nobleman who heard the song in Estonia.
That German version made its way to Russia and was published in a Russian-language Protestant Hymnbook.
It was there that English missionary Stuart K. Hine and his wife came across the song. As they traveled through the Carpathian Mountains, he created a paraphrase of the first three stanzas in English and finished the final one back in England after WW2.

Hine’s version starts with the wonder of creation from Boberg, but he adds verses three and four with a focus on atonement and salvation.
The third verse was inspired by a woman named Lyudmila. She had learned to read by studying the Bible and when the Hines arrived in their village, they heard her reading aloud from the gospel of John to a houseful of guests. While they remained outside, they listened in as these folks heard for the first time the good news and literally cried out how amazing it was that Christ would die for them.

In the vast scope of the universe…
The sun and moon and stars…
How awesome is it?
How incredible?
How breathtaking?
That God notices you.
That God loves you.
That God went through death for you.

What is our response?
How could we possibly begin to give thanks?
We start with praise… singing, shouting, giving thanks to our God.

But we also respond with a life filled with gratitude, service, and love.
As a lesser known verse, translated by Hine, reminds us:
O when I see ungrateful man defiling
This bounteous earth, God’s gifts so good and great;
In foolish pride, God’s holy Name reviling,
And yet, in grace, His wrath and judgment wait.
For as the Psalmist is quick to remind us, we were placed here in this moment for a reason and a purpose.
To have dominion over creation.
Put in charge of God’s handcrafted world.
Tasked with responsibility for the ground beneath our feet, the air we breathe, and all creatures that inhabit it… including our neighbors.
O mighty God! Brilliant Lord! How great thou art!
May we ever live up to this task.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Lord of the Dance

Posted on August 26, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 2 Samuel 6:14-22

There was a stately, beautiful church on the corner of Main and Broad streets. The members were known for their love and care for one another.
On Easter Sunday, the pews were full of folks in their Sunday best, smiling graciously to one another and all of the guests who were among them. Everything was perfect.
Worship had begun, when all of a sudden a scruffy man in a faded shirt walked in. His jeans had holes in them and his sneakers were tattered. He looked around for a seat, but they were all taken.
Every eye followed him as he walked all the way to the front of the church, still looking for a place to sit.
Reaching the first pew and not finding a spot… or anyone who would make room, he sat down cross legged in the aisle.

Everybody was wondering who this was, but even more than that, they were wondering who was going to do something about it.
The organist began to play the opening hymn, but nobody was really listening.
Then, Mr. Sims, a stately older gentleman who had served as an usher for more than half a century, made his way from the back of the church down the aisle.
Somebody had to do something, after all.
Everyone watched as the old man bent down and said: “I just want to say how good it is to have you here.”
And Mr. Sims slowly lowered himself with great difficulty and sat down by the young visitor. He handed him a bulletin, and offered to share his hymnal.
They sat and worshiped together.

What does it really mean to fully worship God?
What does it mean to join in the dance of faith?
It is not about comfort or safety or the clothes you are wearing.
Worship is a risk.
It is a personal and corporate encounter with the divine and we are not in charge.
When we really place our lives before this God, we will not be the same.

Think of those two men in the story. Both took a risk in the presence of God.
The young man was a stranger, coming in off the street, and while everyone was dressed in their Sunday finest, he didn’t care what others thought.
He didn’t care if everyone else was watching.
He was coming to the Lord – and nothing was going to stop him.
The older gentleman had just as much, if not more to lose.
He was established and respected.
Everyone in that church expected him to ask the young man to move.
But Mr. Sims broke with convention and let the Spirit guide him to the front of the church to sit down with that young man.

In 1987, Susanna Clark and Richard Leigh’s song, “Come from the Heart,” included the lines –

“You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.”

The young man and Mr. Sims joined in the dance of faith and didn’t care if anyone was watching. They just put their heart into it.
And in our reading from 2 Samuel, David embraces that same heartfelt abandon leading the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem.
Let’s explore for moment the risk of this moment of worship and the courage it took for David to truly dance.
For years, the ark has been in the hands of the Philistines.
David wants to show that his rule is connected to the lordship, power, and presence of God so he has decided to go and recapture the ark and bring it to Jerusalem.
He gathers thirty thousand of his best men and they go and capture the ark from their enemies.
You might expect a solemn and formal military processional bringing this prized possession back to the Israelites. But King David led a celebration march and they praised God with all of their might with songs and instruments and drums.
In fact, the people were so caught up in their celebration an accident occurred.
Passing over rough terrain, one of the oxen stumbled and the ark nearly fell to the ground.
But a man named Uzzah instinctively reached out to grab onto the ark and lift it to safety.
Whew, we might think to ourselves… disaster averted.

But just the encounter Isaiah had in the temple which we discussed a few weeks ago, this moment reminds us of the holy, other, awesome power of God.
This ark was not a box holding some important documents – it was a sacred object that could bring both blessing and harm.
It was to be touched and handled only by those who had properly prepared, only by the Levites.
The young man was immediately struck dead.

In the middle of the road, in the middle of their journey, all of the celebrations stop.
David is so troubled by these occurrences, so angry at God for what has happened, he refuses to carry the ark the rest of the way to Jerusalem.
He is afraid of what will happen when God’s presence comes into his royal city.
You see, David isn’t perfect. He knows about the sin of his own life and fears for how God’s holy presence might alter the course of his reign.
So instead, he puts the ark in the safekeeping of a family in a village nearby.

David’s heartfelt abandon is closed off because of the fear of being burned, of being rejected, or being found unworthy.

Can you imagine how the story of our faith might have gone had Jesus been afraid to dance?
Sydney Carter’s famous hymn tells the story of Jesus Christ, without ever using his name.
The dance of creation and his birth in Bethlehem…
The call for Pharisees and fishermen to follow… and the refusal of many to join.
The holy people shame him for his acts of love and power.
He is arrested, abused, and killed…
And yet, not once did the dance stop.
And never has the Lord of the Dance stopped inviting us to join in.

There are a lot of people in this world… probably even here in this room… whose hearts are closed off.
People afraid to let God in.
People afraid to make a fool of themselves for God because of what others might think.
People ashamed of their past and whether they will be welcomed.
People who aren’t quite sure they can celebrate with all of their might before God.
Kate Huey writes,

“Jubilation is a word we rarely use, perhaps because such a feeling has been limited for many, for the most part, to sports and, perhaps, the occasional political victory. But what if we felt deep-down-in-our-hearts jubilation over what God is doing in our lives? Would we dance, too?”
Henry Brinton has compared worship… to a modern dance solo by Paul Taylor, the dancer/choreographer who “simply stood motionless on stage for four minutes….The dancing we do in church tends to be quite similar to Paul Taylor’s solo. What we do is nothing – we just stand still, hardly moving a muscle. Our worship of God involves our minds… our tongues, but rarely our whole bodies.”

What would it take to get our bodies more involved in worship?
What would give us the courage to let go and let the dance carry us along?
Maybe, we need to give up control.
Maybe we need to let the rhythm of the song shape and move us.
Maybe we need to let Christ lead.

In the book, The Soul of Tomorrow’s Church, Kent Ira Groff advocates for including rhythm instruments in every worship service. He notes composer Brian Wren’s understanding that “rhythm tries to move you bodily.”
No wonder that from forever and everywhere the drum has been an instrument of healing, reminiscent of the heartbeat of God – use in primal caves, rock bands, sophisticated symphonies. The pipe organ is a wonderful instrument… but in combining many instruments in one, it decreased the participation of the many…
Let me say that again… when we combined many instruments into one, we decreased the participation of the many.
You see, when we clap our hands, or tap our toes, or play along on other instruments, or use our own instrument, our voice, we are joining in the dance.
We are taking a risk.
We are offering ourselves.
We are participating is something bigger than ourselves.
We join the rest of creation and cry out with our whole being – the Lord is Good.

You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.

Just like we might be afraid to step beyond our comfort zones and truly praise God with our whole bodies…
just like we might be afraid to truly welcome into our midst those who don’t look anything like us…
just like we might be afraid of what will happen if we open ourselves up to God’s presence…
King David was afraid of what it meant to invite God into his city. He was afraid of what might happen to himself and his reign.
In many ways, he had a healthy understanding of the holy power and otherness of the Lord… but he let his fear overwhelm his ability to truly trust God.

But then he decided to try again. He worked up the courage to let God lead.
They took the ark out of the house and had moved just six steps down the road when David was so overwhelmed with joy and thanksgiving… with jubilation!… that he sacrificed a bull and a calf in praise to God.
And he took off his royal garments and there in front of all the people he danced before God with all of his might.
He shed his fear, he shed all of the expectations people had of him, he shed his denial of God’s holiness, and he worshiped and praised with heartfelt abandon.

As the dancing proceeded back to Jerusalem and as they got close to the city gates, David’s wife Michal saw him out there.
She saw him without his royal robes, dancing among the commoners.
She saw him making a fool of himself, rather than maintaining his composure.
And then, she confronted him about it.
But David replied, “I was celebrating before the Lord, who chose me… and I will celebrate before the Lord again! I may humiliate myself even more, and I may be humbled in my own eyes.”
He spoke with that same spirit Paul did when he said that we should be fools for Christ – laying it all out on the line to praise and honor the God who gives us life.
Michal, the scribes, the Pharisees, those people in the pews on Easter morning… they could get so caught up in tradition, on what was supposed to happen, in what was appropriate or required…
But as Jesus reminds us over and over again in the gospels, outward trappings are not important.
They don’t make us righteous or unrighteous, worthy or unworthy.
It is our hearts that matter.
What we give to God that matters.
Whether we leave behind ourselves and join in the dance.
So friends, wherever you are, whoever you are, let’s dance.
Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – My Lighthouse

Posted on August 18, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 14:22-33

For the last couple of weeks it has been so incredibly dry around here. It was such a blessing this morning to wake up around 5am with the sounds of thunder gentle rolling and raindrops hitting the earth.
You know… it was in a dark hour like that – during the fourth watch or sometime between three and six in the morning – that a storm is brewing out on the lake with a boatful of disciples hanging on for dear life.

The truth of the matter is, we are all a little bit like those disciples.
We are all here because at some point in our lives we responded to the call of Jesus and showed up.
And we got into the boat, knowing who was guiding the journey.
But we don’t always know where we are going.
In this particular instance, we are heading off to get ready for some new ministry adventure, but the truth is, there is all sorts of stuff going on outside of the boat… Jesus is no where to be seen… we think we might capsize or crash… we feel like we are barely keeping our heads above the water…

You might think I’m talking about some symbolic and imaginary boat.
You picture yourselves floating down the Raccoon River on a kayak or on a little john boat on Saylorville Lake.
But friends, I’m not talking about something imaginary!
We have all – literally – stepped into a boat this morning!

I’ve shared this fun little fact about churches with you before a few years ago, but a refresher is always good.
This part of the sanctuary where I am standing is called the “chancel”. In much older churches, there would have been a screen used to separate this altar area from the rest of the congregation. It created a separation between the people and the sacraments. Because our church is far more egalitarian, the communion railing is the closest thing we have to such a dividing line today.
This part of the sanctuary is the “nave.” The word comes from the Latin navis, which means boat or ship. While that is the technical name for this space in all churches, no matter what architectural style they might have, our church building utilizes a very special design.
Imagine you were building a large wooden boat… you’ve got the frame of it and the beams to hold it together…. Now flip it upside down and you will have something like our vaulted roof today!
So, yes, we are all hanging out here, in the boat we call church, hanging on for dear life, trying to figure out what comes next in the midst of a storm.

You know… sometimes I think that this passage of scripture is just about the storms of that moment, but the reality is, there has been pressure building on the disciples for some time.

If we go back twenty or thirty verses, there have been some trying times for the disciples lately:

Back in 13:54 – Jesus heads to his hometown and tries to do some ministry, but they reject his teaching. They don’t want to hear from this guy that they watched grow up among them. They start naming off his sisters and brothers and parents… who does this guy think he is?
Hmm… the people we know and love are less and less interested in what the church is doing. They’ve stopped coming or are more hostile towards religion. They are quick to point out the faults, rather than listen to what we’ve really been up to.
Sound familiar?

Then, as chapter 14 starts, we get the story of how John the Baptist – the very same one who kicked things off for Jesus and baptized him and started calling people to repentance. Well, he got arrested by King Herod and beheaded, and word had just reached Jesus and the disciples. John found himself in this position because he challenged the political establishment and the way they kept breaking the rules. He raised his prophetic voice and was killed for it.
Can you imagine the impact such news might have had upon this rag tag bunch of disciples?
Were they looking around, wondering if they would be next?
Our political climate here in the U.S. is very different from that of the disciples, because swirling all around us are people who are speaking out and challenging the political structure… from both ends of the theological spectrum.
But there is also a spirit of animosity and silencing that has a chilling effect. It feels like we have never been more divided and while we might not fear for our lives if we say something, we do fear rejection.
I also remember that King Herod was not just a political figure, but a religious one as well. He was appointed as a governor by the Romans over his own Jewish people. So this is also a faith conversation within the family.
And I can’t help but draw parallels between conflicts we are experiencing today in the United Methodist Church. In some places, the move towards inclusion is being challenged by more theologically conservative folks. In other places, including right here in Iowa, LGBTQ folks are being brought up on complaints and put on trial for challenging and breaking rules they believe are unjust.
Whether in Jesus’ time or today, when the air is charged like that, it makes it hard to figure out what to do or say next.

Well, you know what Jesus does as this tension and pressure is mounting?
He says: Goodness gracious friends – I need a break! And he tries to step away and center himself for a bit.
But who shows up there in that quiet, deserted place, but large crowds of people who are hungry to hear and see and touch and experience God’s grace.
So Jesus invites everyone to sit down and takes a meager offering of fish and loaves and turns them into a feast for thousands.
The disciples didn’t think it was possible. They couldn’t see the potential miracle all around them. But Jesus did… and he brought it into existence.

And we, as a church, experience that, too, don’t we?
In the wake of General Conference, we’ve all tried to take a collective breath and wait and see and pray for what comes next… but the reality is there is still work to do.
There are still hungry people around us and folks in the hospital and the precarious nature of life and death continues. We aren’t always sure what to do about it.
But then the Holy Spirit shows up and puts us to work.
Last week, we raised around $2100 and collected 490 items for the DMARC Food Pantry and we met some really great neighbors at the Benefit Concert.
You’ve been showing up for one another in the hospital through surgeries and illness.
We’ve come together as a community for funerals and shared loved and hospitality with people that we might not have known very well before we sat down to share stories and break bread.
Thank you, to so many of you, who have rolled up your sleeves, and shown up and gone the extra mile.
Ministries of healing and compassion and love had been growing all around us this summer by God’s grace, but it is also hard and exhausting work.

Then… and only then… does Matthew’s gospel put us on the boat.
Jesus sends the disciples on ahead to the other side of the lake and so they climb aboard.
But you know what? They don’t really know what’s waiting for them over there.
I think that the disciples, really wanted Jesus to come with them and so they tried as hard as they could to stay near the shore and wait for Jesus.
In the midst of all of the mounting pressure and tension and conflict… they don’t want to do this alone.
They don’t want to take a step in the wrong direction or land in the wrong spot.
They doubt themselves. They don’t want to fail.
And that’s when the storm hits.
And out there on those stormy waters, in that unfamiliar territory, they get overwhelmed by the chaos of it all.
They are so terrified and shaken that when Jesus walks out to them on the water and shows up in their midst, they don’t even recognize him.
Because why would Jesus be out there?
Out in those scary and unfamiliar waters?
They felt lost, confused, disoriented…
And Jesus shows up, because that is precisely when they… when we… need him the most.
In our Conspire service, we’ve been doing a number of songs by the band, Rend Collective. They are a group from Northern Ireland whose upbeat music grabs hold and lifts you out of your seat and a lot of their work, unlike a lot of other contemporary artists, is focused on creating space for people to sing together.
Our favorite song for this week is “My Lighthouse,” and they wrote this song thinking about the experience of those disciples out there on the troubled seas.
Gareth Gilkeson said, “we sing about the failures and doubting, and knowing that God doesn’t walk out on us.”
God doesn’t walk out on us.
Let me say that again… God doesn’t walk out on us.
Instead, Jesus walks right up to you.
He walks through the waves and the wind and gets in the boat with us.
The very light of the world draws close, leading us through our troubles, showing us how to love and take the next step, reminding us that we are not alone.

Yes, maybe things feel like they are building up and there is uncertainty and we don’t exactly know what tomorrow is going to bring. We might take some changes, like Peter stepping out of the boat, and we might fall flat on our face. We might struggle and doubt and feel like giving up, but here is what that song reminds us:
God isn’t going to let us go.
And just like Jesus reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand and pulls him back in, Jesus is reaching out for us.
When we hold on to that light…
When we hold on to that love…
When we hold on to those promises…
Christ will help us make it back to the shore.

We can have questions and doubts.
We might wrestle with what we are supposed to do next.
We might try something and fail.
We might be at a complete loss for words.
But friends, don’t let the storm completely overwhelm you.
Because there is a light already shining in the darkness ready to guide us to where we need to be.
We might not see it yet and we definitely might not be able to glimpse the shore… but its there. And if we keep turning to Jesus, he’ll lead us there.
Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Hymn of Promise / In the Garden

Posted on August 11, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 46:8-13

I’m just going to say it out loud…
these have been some difficult weeks we have shared together:
The loss and grief we have experienced…
The pain in the world in the wake of mass shootings and the crisis of migration and climate…
The sense of helplessness about being able to do anything to make it better…

When I find myself feeling discouraged, vulnerable, and down about the world, it is usually the church that helps me to feel better.
The people… the songs… the prayer… the time spent in the presence of God.
But as United Methodists these days, there is also a sense that the church itself is stuck. Broken. Falling apart. We are so busy arguing about who is right and what should be done that we are completely out of tune with the real, deep needs of the world.

But then I sat down and began to study a number of chapters from our lesson for this morning.
God called this prophet to speak a word of comfort and release to a community in exile:
“Speak compassionately to Jerusalem and proclaim that her compulsory service has ended.” (40:2)
“I am the Lord your God, who grasps your strong hand, who says to you, Don’t fear; I will help you.” (41:13)
“I, the Lord, will respond to them; I, the God of Israel, won’t abandon them.” (41:17)
“I announced, I saved, I proclaimed, not some stranger among you. You are my witnesses, says the Lord, and I am God.” (43:12)
“Look! I’m doing a new thing; now it springs up; don’t you recognize it? I’m making a way in the desert, paths in the wilderness.” (43:19)
“Listen to me, house of Jacob… who have been borne by me since pregnancy, whom I carried from the womb until you grow old. I am the one, and until you turn gray I will support you.” (46:3-4)

“Remember this and take courage; take it to heart, you rebels… I am God! There’s none like me who tells the end at the beginning… saying ‘My plan will stand; all that I decide I will do.’” (46:8-10)

God, through Isaiah, is not speaking to a bunch of people who have it all together.
This is not a message for the perfect or the righteous.
This good news isn’t offered to people who have never known pain or hardship or frustration or grief.
No… they are wallowing in it.
Their country has been destroyed. Their loved ones killed. Their very way of life has crumbled.
They are struggling to make sense of what it means to go on, to take the next step, to move forward when everything familiar has been taken away.

And the words they hear from their God… The words WE need to hear from God…
“this, too, shall pass.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Remember.”
“Look around for the gifts in the grief.”
“I’ve got you.”
“In the beginning is the end, in the end is the beginning.”

Do any of those words offer answers? No.
Do they make it better right now? No.
But they do remind us that we are not alone.
They remind us that human life and institutions are fragile… just like the grass that dries up and the flower that withers (Isaiah 40:8)… but that we have been and are and will be held by and sustained by a word and a promise and a plan and a power that has always been and always will be.
These words of comfort offer strength when we might collapse in despair.
They invite us to be present. To pay attention. To embrace the unknown.
To trust that this moment is not all of the story or the end of the story.

This summer, we have been exploring the favorite songs of Immanuel and today we have grouped together two hymns that sing aloud those truths: “Hymn of Promise” and “In the Garden.”

When Natalie Sleeth wrote, “Hymn of Promise,” she was inspired by a line from T.S. Eliot that “in our end is our beginning” and the way the world itself reawakens with every spring. What is the nature of life and death when we hold in our hearts the promise of resurrection?
This hymn is yet another of these great songs we have been sharing that was written by a United Methodist. Her husband was a UM pastor and taught homiletics at Perkins while she shared her love of music in a local church and began writing anthems and hymns. She is the composer who brings us “Joy in the Morning” and reminds us that songs rise from silence, darkness becomes light, and death gives way to the victory of life.
But what I appreciate the most about Sleeth’s work is that it doesn’t paper over our grief or our discomfort or pain with flowery words.
It dives right into them.
She acknowledges them.
And she creates room for us to embrace that even in that brokenness and apparent death the mystery of wholeness and life and peace that is on the horizon.

We need to hang on to that mystery of the unknown.
I’m reminded of the words of Matt Rawle, whose book, “What Makes a Hero?” we studied over Lent a couple of years back.
He talked about the reason why it was so difficult for people to embrace Jesus as their Savior because we want a magic wand. We want a superhero savior who “will just swoop in and fix [ our problems].” (p. 125)
But if that savior is headed towards the reality of death – there is no saving there for us.
The crowds of people drastically misunderstood how Jesus saves us.
The kingdom Jesus ushers in doesn’t start in some heaven far away, but right here and right now.
Like a mustard seed planted in a garden or yeast hidden in flour, the kingdom breaks forth out of what we thought was dead, buried, hidden away.
The kingdom is the power of new life rising out of death.
The kingdom says that in every end there is a new beginning.
Our God can take any and every broken and painful moment we experience and redeem them.
They don’t go away.
But they are transformed.

Even the death of Jesus unexpectedly brings something new out of what we thought was over and done with.
Not immediately… but with time and work and patience and not a little bit of grace and power and glory.
The mustard seed becomes a great tree.
The yeast causes the bread to rise.
In the bulb there is a flower.
The stone that sealed the tomb is rolled away.

Which takes us to that other beloved hymn of Immanuel – “In the Garden.”
I say it is beloved, but the truth is, there are probably just as many people who despise “In the Garden” as cherish it.
I remember working to plan Dorie Campbell’s funeral and as we were deciding on what songs to sing, we picked “In the Garden,” fully knowing that she would have been upset with us for doing so because she thought it was grammatically inaccurate. Others find it to be too overly personal and ever erotic.
C. Austin Miles wrote this hymn after a mediation upon the resurrection story in the gospel of John. The language he uses is personal and intimate and it draws upon a tradition of devotional poetry where one imagines themselves in the story itself, part of the scene, walking and talking with Jesus.
We are invited to step into the shoes of Mary… to enter that garden filled with grief and love… and to encounter the resurrected Christ and the joy of new life.
But we also can’t stay there.
You see, in the third verse of that hymn, we find ourselves with a dilemma.
Sometimes we want to stay at the tomb with the stone rolled away.
That one perfect moment of hope when everything had fallen apart.
It’s better. We tell ourselves.
I’m going to stay right here forever.

But we can’t stay at the empty tomb.
We need to listen to the voice of Christ calling us to go.
Go out into the world.
Go and tell others what we have experienced.
Go and share the good news.
Go and offer signs of life and hope.

Like the prophet Isaiah, in the midst of the grief and pain of the world, we can’t keep the hope and promise to ourselves. It is our duty to head back out there and offer it to everyone we meet.
“this, too, shall pass.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Remember.”
“Look around for the gifts in the grief.”
“I’ve got you.”
“In the beginning is the end, in the end is the beginning.”

Sing! Play! Summer! – Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty

Posted on July 14, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 6:1-8

“We keep a troubled vigil at the bedside of the world,” writes Howard Thurman, “Thus we clutch the moment of intimacy in worship when we become momentarily a part of a larger whole, a fleeting strength, which we pit against all the darkness and the dread of our times.

We don’t have to look too far to see darkness and dread hanging over our lives.
Illness and violence.
Poverty and oppression.
Impacts of the climate crisis.
Bullying in our schools and in our politics.
Grief and loss and discouragement.
These are the things that keep us up at night.

Thurman writes that “the moment of intimacy in worship” allows us to recharge our spiritual batteries and face once again the struggles of the world.

The moment of intimacy in worship.
The moment we personally encounter a holy, living, powerful God.
The moment when we become close to a God who is wholly other.

I think we often put God into a very small box.
Jesus is our friend and companion.
The Holy Spirit holds our hand and brings us comfort in tough times.
The Father tenderly calls us to do the right thing.
We imagine that God is just like us…
Or sometimes, that we are like God…

But the truth is, when we are facing a world of darkness and dread and problems that are just too big to tackle, we need an encounter with something… with someone… who is far beyond anything we can know or comprehend.

I am reminded of King Uzziah, whose story frames Isaiah’s encounter with the God from our scripture today.
King Uzziah was ruler over the southern kingdom of Judah and he came to be king at only 16 years of age. According to scripture (2 Kings 14:21, 15:1-7 and 2 Chronicles 26: 1-23) , he did what was right in the sight of God and had a powerful and successful reign over Judah for fifty-two years.
But all of the success God brought the nation went to King Uzziah’s head.
In the wake of military victories, Uzziah provided top of the line armor and weapons for his soldiers and fortified the city of Jerusalem with towers and archers and traps.
He was demonstrating his power, rather than trusting in God’s power.
His pride became such a problem that he entered the holiest place in the temple… that special room at the very center that only the high priest was allowed to enter, and he walked in like he owned the place and burned incense to the Lord.
Instantly, leprosy came upon Uzziah because of his prideful action and he was a leper until the day of his death.

Uzziah forgot that only God was holy.

But as his reign came to an end, Isaiah began to have visions.
He receives vision after vision of the failings of his nation, and the bloodshed and oppression his people have created when they relied upon their own might to solve their problems instead of relying upon God.

And in the year King Uzziah dies, Isaiah has an intimate encounter with the Lord.
A holy, living, powerful God.
Isaiah sees the Lord upon a throne, with just the hem of God’s robe filling the temple.
Winged creatures, seraphim flew about shouting to one another:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Heavenly Forces! All the earth is filled with God’s glory.” (Isaiah 6:3)
As the room shakes and fills with smoke, Isaiah fears for his very life: “Mourn for me; I’m ruined!”
He cries out acknowledging his own unholiness.
His own unworthiness.
The unrighteousness of his people and his nation.
God sees it all… and then this wholly other and almighty God draws close.
A glowing coal touches Isaiah’s lips.
His sin and guilt are gone.
And God sends Isaiah back out to face the darkness and dread of the world with a renewed sense of purpose and power.

This vision of the holiness of God also inspires the apostle John.
He writes the book of Revelation in a time of persecution and distress and the visions he receives bring comfort to those who are oppressed.
But again, John doesn’t encounter a God who is our friend or who is just like us…
When we are faced with true darkness and dread, we need a power that is far beyond our comprehension.
John has a vision, in Revelation chapter 4, in which a door is opened to heaven:
“I saw a throne in heaven, and someone was seated on the throne. The one seated there looked like jasper and carnelian and surrounding the throne was a rainbow that looked like an emerald. Twenty-four thrones, with twenty-four elders seated upon them, surrounded the throne… From the throne came lightning, voices, and thunder. In front of the throne were seven flaming torches, which are the seven spirits of God. Something like a glass sea, like crystal, was in front of the throne.
In the center, by the throne, were four living creatures encircling the throne. These creatures were covered with eyes on the front and on the back… [they had different faces and] each of the four living creates had six wings, and each was covered all around and on the inside with eyes. They never rest day or night, but keep on saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is coming.”
As we move to the next chapter, the Lamb appears, and then we think we might find a familiar imagine, but John’s vision describes it in this way:
“I saw a Lamb, standing as if it had been slain. It had seven horns and seven eyes, which are God’s seven spirits, sent out into the whole earth.”

The holy one is nothing like us.
Nothing like anything we experience upon this earth.
Nothing else is worthy of devotion.
Nothing else is perfect in power, in love, and in purity.
Nothing else could have created all things.
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.

These words from Isaiah chapter 6 and Revelation 4 inspired Reginald Heber when he sat down to write a hymn for Trinity Sunday.
He was a vicar in Anglican Church and had begun to put together a hymnal based around the church calendar. As he looked around for songs that spoke to the various times of the church year, he realized that he was lacking songs for that Sunday which emphasizes that doctrine of the Trinity. So, he wrote one himself.
Heber wanted to capture in this hymn the utter holiness of God in the midst of a world full of vices.
Stanton Nelson points out that the text “encourages the singer to join in an endless song” – a song sung by heavenly creatures stretching back as far as Isaiah and John and still being sung today.
Nelson also points out a few unique ways that Heber emphasizes God’s holiness.
First, if you look at the text, every line of the hymn rhymes with the word, “holy.”
Second, Heber doesn’t resort to any kind of “cheap emotionalism.” He allows us to sing of the Trinity without taking away from the mystery, the otherness of who God is.
As Heber writes, “though the darkness hide thee, though the eye of sinful man thy glory man not see.”

In a world of darkness and dread, we cannot always see the holiness of God.
But the act of worship, we can open ourselves up to an intimate encounter with God.
Do we recognize the awesome and holy and other power of God in our midst?
When Moses encountered this God in a burning bush, he was told to “come no closer! Remove your sandals for the place you are standing is holy ground!” He hid his face, afraid to even look at God. (Exodus 3:5-6)

Are we aware that there is risk involved whenever we are in God’s presence?
The book of 2 Samuel tells of how David and his select warriors went out to bring home the ark of the covenant after it had been stolen away. They brought hearts filled with praise, but when one man reached out and touched that holy vessel by accident, he died on the spot. (2 Samuel 6:15-16)

We hear these stories from the Hebrew scriptures, but too often today, we underestimate the power of truly being in the presence of God.
We are comfortable in our sanctuaries.
We sit in the same seats near friendly faces.
We watch our children play and share stories.
We sing hymns in the same way we have sung them a thousand times.
Worship has sometimes become so routine that we enter this place like King Uzziah… we come in as though we own it and like we deserve to be here.

I think sometimes, we have lost our sense of what it means to truly encounter a God that makes us uncomfortable.
A God that can shake the very foundations of this room.
A God that has the power to topple kingdoms.
A God that overcame the forces of death.
A God that heals and restores and creates a new.
A God that was is and is and is coming.
A God that is light and in whom there is no darkness at all.
A God that causes saints and cherubim and seraphim to throw off their crowns and fall on their knees.

This intimate moment that we call worship has nothing to do with instrumentation or the style or the music or what we are sitting on.
It has everything to do with personally and corporately encountering the One who has the power to change everything about our lives and the world we live in.
It is a moment not where we show God how great we are, but we offer ourselves, with all of our flaws and weaknesses, and let God transform us and use us to counter the darkness and dread of the world.
Only God is holy.
Only God is worthy.
And when we open ourselves up… even for just one moment… to connect and be drawn close to this God… we do find the strength to head back into this world with a renewed sense of purpose and power.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Amazing Grace

Posted on July 7, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Luke 15

I have a fantastic sense of direction.
If you drop me in a new place with a map, I can easily get my bearings and find my way.
When I think about it, I can’t remember a time that I have ever been lost… at least not while I was navigating!
I do lose things, however.
I misplace things all the time.
My attention slips for just a few minutes and I set something down and the next thing I know, it’s gone.
In fact, on graduation day at Simpson College, my family was helping me move out of the house. We packed everything up and loaded the boxes into my mom’s SUV and the plan was for me to follow behind with my brothers in my car.
My parents took off and all of us young folks helped my roommates finish packing and loading their cars.
We finished and went to head home ourselves, when I realized… I couldn’t find my keys.
They were nowhere to be found.
In a panic, we called my parents and they found them packed in the top of one of the boxes in their vehicle.
So I dropped my brothers off at the movie theater, while my boyfriend drove me halfway back to Cedar Rapids to meet my dad and the keys.
Believe it or not… that’s not the only time I’ve lost my keys while moving.
And, of course… I lost one of my monkeys this morning =) [reference to the children’s sermon]

Today, Luke’s gospel tells us the parables of the lost… the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son… the child who takes his inheritance and runs off, squanders it all and returns home.
A parable a short story that tells us a moral lesson… like the story of George Washington and the cherry tree. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not – the point is what we learn from it.
Luke groups these lost parables together, because he thinks it is key to who Jesus believes we are and how we are to live.
You see, at the beginning of this chapter, Jesus sat down for supper with some unsavory characters.
He was eating with tax collectors and sinners. Ooooo….
What? Does that not trouble you?
The idea that Jesus would sit down with a tax collector?
That’s probably because tax collectors today – while not our favorite people, are also not the unsavory villians of Jesus time.
But who might be?
What kind of people would we find it scandalous for Jesus to be having dinner with today?
What about drag queens?
Or Muslims?
White supremacists?
Or prostitutes?
Would any of those groups of folks make your feathers ruffle just a little bit?
Would you stop in your tracks and stare?
The Pharisees sure did.
They walked by the house where Jesus was having this grand old feast with a bunch of sinners and they started to whisper.
They started to grumble.
They started to complain… that fellow welcomes sinners!
And not only that – he eats with them!!!

And so loud enough so that they could hear – Jesus begins to tell these stories about the lost. About the shepherd that leaves behind the entire flock to seek out the one lost sheep.
The story about the woman who burns as much oil as a single coin was worth just to find a coin that was lost.

And when they found those lost things – Jesus said – there was great rejoicing…
In the same way God seeks the lost people of this world…
and God rejoices when they are found.
I may not know what it is like to be lost and not know my way home, but I do know what it is like to have lost something.
I know the desperation of seeking out that thing that I need – the thing that I love.
I know how important it is.
And so in some small way, I understand what it means for God to seek out those who are lost.
What is harder to understand is that I am someone who has been and who probably still is… lost.
We don’t like to acknowledge that we are sinners… that there are parts of our lives we still hold back from God.
We are fantastic at being being oblivious little sheep, wandering away from the flock and not realizing it.
Maybe it is a habit of telling lies, or the anger you harbor in your heart…
Maybe you like spending more time watching football than showing up to praise God…
Maybe you use and abuse the gifts of God’s creation…
Maybe pride has led you to believe you don’t need God’s help…
But whether we want to admit it or not, we are all sinners who have fallen short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:23)
It is an ugly fact about each and every single one of us.
We can pretend it’s not so – but, maybe, at the very least, we can take comfort in the fact that we are all sinners.
We are in this together.
We have all fallen short of the glory of God.
And God seeks each one of us out anyways…

Today’s hymn of the day was the second most favorite song of the people of Immanuel… Amazing Grace.
It was written in 1779 by John Newton and his story reminds us of that simple truth that we are all lost… we have all fallen short… but that doesn’t mean God has given up on us.
Newton was born in 1725 and was taken to sea by his father who was a sea-captain. He rebelled, he drank too much, he got into trouble, and before he knew it, he was forced to join the British navy. He tried to desert, but was caught and had his rank stripped away.
Eventually he found himself serving on a slave ship, and caused a big stink among the crew, so they left him in West Africa – basically giving him to an African princess who treated him as a slave.
His father began to wonder where he was and sent out a rescue mission.
On the ship back home, a storm tossed the boat to and fro and they seemed to be sinking…
In that dark place, from rock bottom, with nothing left to lose, Newton began to pray and the ship drifted to safety.
He marks this day, March 21, 1748, as the beginning of his Christian faith.
As Diane Severance notes, “Only God’s amazing grace could and would take a rude, profane, slave-trading sailor and transform him into a child of God.” (https://www.christianity.com/church/church-history/timeline/1701-1800/john-newton-discovered-amazing-grace-11630253.html)

Here is the thing, though.
Even after this moment, Newton wasn’t perfect.
He continued in his work as a slave-trader until the age of 39 when he eventually answered a call to ministry in 1764.
As part of his ministry, he began to write hymns, including Amazing Grace in 1779… a testimony of his own journey from wretchedness to salvation, from being lost to being found.
But it was not until 1788, thirty-four years after leaving the profession that Newton would renounce the slave trade and his role within it.
In 1788, he published a pamphlet, “Thoughts Upon the Slave Trade.” He became an advocate for the abolition of slavery and lived to see it end in Great Britian in 1807.

In many ways, Newton’s story reminds me of that lost son… the prodigal son… the one who is consumed by drunkenness and tries to make his own way and utterly fails.
Like the prodigal son, the love of the father rescues him and welcomes him home.
Amazing Grace speaks to this personal journey of salvation.

But I also think about the rest of his journey and how eventually Newton came to understand that every single person upon this planet is a precious child of God, worthy of love.
That God will not rest until every person is found….
The final verse of Amazing Grace is actually not attributed to Newton, but I think it represents that shift in his own life from the first person singular, to the first person plural.
From “I” to “we”

I am reminded of a story told by Rodger Nishioka who as a Presbyterian was working alongside some Russian Orthodox folks in an ecumenical project.
He made reference to the “Parable of the Lost Sheep” when someone interrupted him and asked him which parable he meant.
For a moment, I imagine Mr. Nishioka thought these Russian Orthodox folks didn’t know their bibles very well.
So, he summarized Luke’s parable about the shepherd looking for the one sheep that had gone missing from the flock of 100.
The Russian Orthodox priest looked at him and said, “Oh! You mean the Parable of the incomplete flock.”
In their tradition, God was concerned about the one sheep that went missing, because without that one sheep – the 100 would not be complete.
God wants to seek out and find all of God’s children and our family is only complete when all who are lost are found.
We are incomplete.
The family of God is incomplete when we leave out the tax collectors and sinners.
It is incomplete when we turn our backs on the drag queens and white supremacists.
We are not whole until our siblings who are Muslim or Jewish or Buddhist are welcomed.
We are lost if we cannot sit down with Jesus and the prostitutes.

As long as we diminish the worth of another person and hold them at a distance…
As long as we believe that others are unworthy, unfaithful, or uninterested…
As long as we act in hatred or anger towards our siblings…
As long as we are unwilling to sit down and share a meal God’s family is incomplete.

Like the woman with the lost coin…
Like the shepherd with the lost sheep…
Like the father whose son has gone missing…
God seeks out every single one of us until we are found.
Even me.
Even you.
Even them.
Thanks be to God.

Sing! Play! Summer! – The Old Rugged Cross

Posted on June 30, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 1 Corinthians 1:18-29

A young rabbi found a serious problem in his new congregation.
During the Friday service, half the congregation stood for the prayers and half remained seated, and each side insisted that theirs was the true tradition.
Nothing the rabbi said or did moved toward solving the impasse.
Finally, in desperation, the young rabbi sought out the synagogue’s 99-year-old founder. He met the old rabbi in the nursing home and poured out his troubles.
“So tell me,” he pleaded, “was it the tradition for the congregation to stand during the prayers?”
“No,” answered the old rabbi.
”Ah,” responded the younger man, “then it was the tradition to sit during the prayers?”
“No,” answered the old rabbi.
“Well,” the young rabbi responded, “what we have is complete chaos! Half the people stand and shout, and the other half sit and scream.”
“Ah,” said the old man, “that was the tradition.”

Like that Jewish congregation of sitters and standers, one of the things that I appreciate about the people of Immanuel is that no matter what differences you have, you still come together to worship and serve.
There have been winners and losers and conflict in our history.
There have been folks who got their way and those that didn’t,
people who stayed and people who left.
Sometimes conflict appeared over silly little things.
And sometimes conflict brought to the center of our attention real problems that needed to be addressed by our whole community.

One of the things I love about turning back to these letters from Paul to the first Christian communities is that they help us remember the struggles we face today are problems people of faith have been facing for thousands of years.
There may not be much comfort in that… but at least we have good company!

Paul begins his letter to the church in Corinth by praising God for all of the potential of this amazing congregation.
But then he reminds them of the one thing that is keeping them from realizing God’s will in their midst.
“In the name of Jesus,” Paul writes, “you must get along with each other! You must learn to be considerate of one another and cultivate a life in common.” (message paraphrase)
Paul looks at this church and sees people who are wrestling for the spotlight.
He sees people who think they are right and everyone else is wrong.
He sees people who really do want to be faithful, but are going about it the wrong way.
They think to be faithful, they have to be on the “right team.”
So they pick sides.
They follow Apollos or Cephas.
They throw their lot in with Paul.
Some of them even go around saying, “to heck with all this division… I’m just going to follow Jesus!” And in doing so, they only stoke the fires of competition even more… because, isn’t everyone trying to follow Jesus? Who among us gets to claim that name more than any other?

In the worldly realm of politics, we see this all the time.
There are winners and losers on every issue.
There is competition for money and time and we don’t care who gets run over in the process.
We don’t care who our words hurt or what we do to our nation in the process.

I think about the crisis happening on our nation’s southern border.
Global Ministries and the United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) have declared today a Sunday of Solidarity with the Suffering of our Children.
They call us to pay attention, to pray, and to respond out of the love of Christ.
We need to become more aware of the devastating conditions in Latin American countries that lead families to pick up everything and risk their lives for a better opportunity.
I think about how complicated our asylum process is and how misunderstood it is by U.S. citizens.
We wrestle with the tension between security and compassion, safety and welcome and long for a solution that isn’t an either/or.
The reality is, this isn’t an issue between Democrats and Republicans, because policies of family separation began under the Obama administration and have simply been continued and enforced under Trump.
This past week, when a government lawyer argued against providing toothbrushes to children, the reality is, she was in court because of a violation of the Flores Agreement under the previous president.
We get so caught up in slinging words at one another and picking sides, that we have closed our eyes to an immoral response to this humanitarian crisis for years.
We become trapped in a cycle of blame.
We are unwilling to examine the problems in our own corner of the political spectrum.
Every side thinks it has the answer and is unwilling to listen to those who are most impacted by the decisions being enacted.

When Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he was aware that this continuous practice of win/lose partisan behavior ends up exacting a high cost.
It is not the politicians or the intellectuals or even the biblical scholars who will save us.
We won’t find our solutions by picking a side and tearing the other down.
The only answer that will really and truly bring life is found in the way of the cross.
It is sacrifice.
It is humility.
It is weakness.
It is utter foolishness.
It is everything.

George Bennard was born in Ohio, but grew up in Iowa as the son of a tavern owner and coal miner.
He came to faith as a part of a Salvation Army ministry in his early twenties and became a Methodist evangelist, traveling throughout the Midwest.
One of his journeys took him to Michigan in 1912-13 to help lead a revival and he found himself heckled and ridiculed by some young people in attendance.
Bennard felt low, shamed, let the words of those young people start to get to him…
The world doesn’t always understand the way of the cross.
But he kept his eyes on Christ and began to study and write about his experience.
The words began to flow and before long, he sat with his guitar and finished the song.

The Old Rugged Cross is an emblem of suffering and shame.
It is despised by the world.
It is full of shame and reproach.
And yet… to that very cross we are called to cling.

Paul tells that Corinthian church trapped in their conflict between who is right and wrong that they are called to become fools.
They are called to be the laughing-stocks of their community.
They are called to lay down their weapons of division and look out instead to where God is showing up in the world:
In the weak.
In the lowly.
In those who are considered nothing.
The good news that points to Christ on the Cross seems like sheer foolishness to those hellbent on destruction, but for those on the way of salvation… it makes perfect sense. (paraphrase of the Message).
The cross is what unifies us.
The cross is our standard.
The cross of Christ, his life, death and resurrection, should be the focus of all our decisions.

Faced with any conflict, we should cling to that Old Rugged Cross.
We are called to love as Christ did… sacrificially.
We are called to go to the margins, to the outcast, to the forgotten.
We are called to die to self, to leave behind security and safety in order to be in radical solidarity with others.

I think about Scott Warren, a teacher from Arizona who was arrested for leaving water and sheltering migrants from Central America in 2017.
He broke the laws of our country and found himself in prison because he took seriously the call of Christ to clothe the naked and give drink to the thirsty.
In the midst of a nation pointing fingers and arguing about laws, we are called to find a way through the chaos of difference… and the only path is through the cross.
And sometimes that makes us look like fools by worldly standards.

When we cling to the Old Rugged Cross, we allow Christ to transform us.
We become the crucified and risen body of Christ in the world…
We go to those who suffer and suffer with them.
We enter the lives of the broken and the lost to bring healing and hope.
We share our love and compassion and mercy and in doing so, we share the good news of the salvation with the world.

It is in the weak and the lowly and those the world declares are nothing that we find Christ.
So let us join our hearts in prayer…

(adapted from a prayer offered by UMCOR)
God of All Children Everywhere,
Our hearts are bruised when we see children suffering alone.
Our hearts are torn when we are unable to help.
Our hearts are broken when we have some complicity in the matter.
For all the times we were too busy and shooed a curious child away, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we failed to get down on their level and look eye to eye with a child, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we did not share when we saw a hungry child somewhere in the world, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we thought about calling elected officials to demand change, but did not, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we thought that caring for the children of this world was someone else’s responsibility, forgive us, oh God.
With Your grace, heal our hearts.
With Your grace, unite us in action.
With Your grace, repair our government and communities.
With Your grace, help us to find a way to welcome all children everywhere,
That they may know that Jesus loves them, Not just because “the Bible tells them so,”
But because we have shown them Your love in real and tangible ways,
And they know that nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate them from Your love.
May the cross of suffering and shame bring beauty and light and love and light to those who are the most in need of love.
And in loving them, in becoming fools for them, in denying ourselves and taking up Your cross, may we find life, too.
Amen.