salvagedfaith

Sanctuary

Posted on December 19, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Micah 5:2-5a, Luke 1:39-56

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A post shared by Katie Z. Dawson (@katismcgee)

I have a kind of strange question to ask…

Does this dress look familiar to you?

How many of you have noticed or realized that I have worn it every Sunday for the last eight weeks?

How many of you have noticed that I have worn this dress… I mean, this exact garment, not one like it, for every day for the last sixty-two days?

I had seen advertisements for this Wool& dress for ages, advertising this magical wool garment that stretches and doesn’t smell and that you don’t have to wash every day. Something that keeps you cool when you are hot and warm when you are chilled.

A friend did the challenge. Then another. And so I thought – why not.

I needed a new black dress and something that was well constructed and would last me for a while and could be a sustainable addition to my wardrobe made sense.

So here I am… day sixty-two.

Why on earth am I talking about a dress on the fourth Sunday of Advent?

Because we all need to have a safe place to run and share and feel safe when the world around us is falling apart.

Our scripture for this morning tells the story of how an unwed, pregnant teenager ran away from home – and ran straight to the arms and household of her relative, Elizabeth.

Many of us have heard this story before.

A relative who went off to live somewhere else for a while – to hide from a secret shame, to get clean, to take responsibility for mistakes.

We have stories that have been passed down in hushed tones about the family that took them in while they got their lives back together.

But we also know there are times in all of our lives when we have a struggle that we aren’t quite sure how to share or speak aloud.

And so you seek the sanctuary of a close friend – someone you can be honest with. Someone who will believe you. Someone who will be on your side.

When I started this silly challenge of wearing this dress for 100 days, I joined a facebook group dedicated to the task. I was anticipating getting ideas for how to style with items already in my closet, advice for cleaning… that kind of thing.

What I didn’t expect is that this group would be a place of sanctuary for so many.

Women talking about difficulties in relationships.

Sharing stories of health crises or tremendous loss.

Wrestling with insecurities about how they look and past emotional abuse.

We all need a place to turn when things are rough…

When we are unsure of what to do or who will love and accept us…

And this facebook group about a dress has become a place of sanctuary for so many.

The responses are full of love and encouragement and grace and support.

Ya’ll… it feels like church.

Our text from the Hebrew scriptures talks about a ruler who will be born in Bethlehem.

It is an insignificant and unlikely place… but he will be our shepherd.

He will help us find safety and peace and security and love.

And as Christians, we believe that one that was promised was the Messiah, Jesus.

But he was born to an insignificant and unlikely person… a young woman, pregnant and unmarried, vulnerable.

Mary is open and willing and ready to be God’s vessel… but also, she must have been terrified.

How could you explain such a miracle? How would others have responded?

Would there have been stares, questions, disbelief?

Despite her faith and her courage, was it simply too much?

She turns to the only person she thinks can understand… her cousin, Elizabeth, who is having her own miraculous pregnancy.

I have preached on the visitation of Mary to Elizabeth countless times in my ministry.

But I don’t think that I have ever focused on what it meant for these two to find one another in this moment.

Charles Campbell captures it well:

“The scene is absurd… A baby leaps in the womb. Blessings are shared. Astonishment is expressed. Songs are sung. By two pregnant women… It is fleshy, embodied, earthy, appropriate as a forerunner to the incarnation… In the women’s actions, the world is indeed turned upside down. Hierarchies are subverted. The mighty are brought low. Two marginalized, pregnant women carry the future and proclaim the Messiah.”
(Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 1, p 95)

In this place of sanctuary and safety, the two women offer support.

They share the joys and the triumphs and the stress and the difficulty.

And they proclaim and shout and sing about how God is turning the world upside down.

We’ve talked a lot over the last several weeks about home.

About God making a home among us… about the kin-dom taking root right here in this world.

And the truth is, if we really let it, it changes everything.

God is initiating a world of love and grace and mercy and welcome.

God is calling us to repent of the ways we have shut one another out and turned one another away.

To let go of our tendencies to shame or harass or judge.

To embrace a life of humility and freedom and mercy.

And while Mary’s song talks about rulers being toppled from their thrones, we are called to live these promises out with actions that are much simpler.

Who will you welcome today?

How can you offer sanctuary for someone who is unsure about their future?

What do you need to do to show grace to someone you love?

Where is God calling you to be a shepherd for others?

That’s what church is all about, after all, isn’t it?

It is about sanctuary.

It is about forgiveness.

It is about community.

It is offering hope and love and support and prayers.

It is a pocket of the kin-dom of God right here on earth as we let the love of Christ transform how we treat one another.

It might be a facebook group about a dress…

Or it might be at the dinner table when your kid comes out…

Or it might be how you respond to the co-worker you disagree with…

Or it might be reaching out to a complete stranger in the check-out line with a smile of encouragement…

But we are called to love our neighbors.

To love with open arms and humility and compassion.

May we be sanctuary for all who seek it.

May we carry that kind of love with us… may we carry church with us… wherever we go.

Time to Go

Posted on November 28, 2021Leave a comment

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

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

Maybe you were tired.

Or maybe the conversation became stale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tut-tut… looks like rain!”

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

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

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

This Advent at Immanuel is all about going home…

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

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

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

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

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

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

You see, Advent is a time of preparation.

It is a time of getting ready.

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

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

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

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

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

We are homesick for God’s reign.

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

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

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

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

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

Dismay among nations.

Surging waves.

Planets that are shaken.

Fear and foreboding.

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

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

The conversation is heated.

The fire is going out.

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

You want to get out of there.

You want to get home.

But you can’t.

You don’t know how.

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

That is when Christ will come…

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

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

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

the most filled with longing…

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

We just need to pay attention.

The prophet Jeremiah knew something about being homesick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A home where God’s will would reign.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And we can be so focused on what is wrong…

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

We can be filled with fear and foreboding…

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

We can pay attention to where new life is sprouting…

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

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

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

Hope, you see, is not passive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tut-tut. It is time to go.

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

Return. Repair. Restore

Posted on October 31, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Genesis 33:1, 3-5, 8-11; John 21: 1-6, 9-11, 15-17

Oh friends, on this All Hallow’s Eve we find ourselves with two ghost stories of our scriptures…

Okay, okay, they aren’t exactly ghost stories.

But they are about people who were lost, left for dead, and cast out.

They are about relationships coming back from the brink of death.

They are about betrayal and reconciliation and forgiveness.

About laying old demons and ghosts and mistakes to rest so that new life can burst forth.

And while we might not usually think about these two scriptures as stewardship material, both of them tell a story about the hurt and harm that comes when we prioritize our own economic and social well-being at the expense of others… and about the abundance of life we find when we allow God to restore us.

The first story we heard this morning began with conflict in the womb!

Two twin brothers vying to be first and for their place in the world.

And when Jacob comes out second, clinging to the heel of his brother, Esau, he becomes the vulnerable one.

Only, Jacob… with the blessing of his mother… was not satisfied with his place.

He schemed to steal his brother’s birthright, blessing, and inheritance.

Jacob took what did not belong to him and damaged relationships and lives in the process.

He has to flee for his life… which leads us to wonder if any of it was worth it.

Many of our families have experienced pain and conflict and bickering when a loved one dies.

Who gets what, how things are divided, what was said in the will or what was promised… the tension and stress of these realities are compounded by grief that comes out sideways.

I’ve experienced this in my own extended family and the heartbreaking division and separation that resulted and still has not been reconciled.

But the story of Jacob and Esau is not limited to a family squabble about inheritance.

It is also a story about how the happenstances of our birth: where and when we are born impact our ability to thrive in this world.

It is a story about the unequal distribution of wealth and resources.

And it is also a story about what happens when any party focuses on their own self-interest at the expense of others.

This past week, I participated virtually as a director at the fall meeting of Global Ministries.

As we celebrate ministry from everywhere-to-everywhere, we also celebrate the outpouring of compassion and love that is a key part of our mission.

And, I was reminded once again of the damage that inequity has not just on the vulnerable, but on the entire world.

From climate change, to global migration, to the disparity in Covid-19 vaccination distribution, our lives are interconnected.

Any belief that we can procure and protect our own individual or national economic security without a ripple of consequences that impact others and ultimately come back to us is false.

Our gospel reading is one of the resurrection stories that John records, but to fully understand its message we also must go back in time.

We return to the shoreline where a struggling fisherman heard the call to drop his nets and follow Jesus.

Peter’s life was transformed in that moment as he left behind his livelihood to embark on God’s mission at work in his life.

Most of us could not make such a drastic and risky change in our lives and we cannot help but admire him for doing so.

And yet, even Peter, had moments where he put his own well-being and security above the call of Jesus in his life.

In a moment where he could have stood up for his Messiah, Peter denied that he knew the Lord.

Not once. Not twice. But three times.

He got tangled up in his own self-interest and the guilt and the shame haunted him.

Even after experiencing the miracle of the resurrection, Peter wasn’t sure what to do with himself and instead of carrying on the ministry and getting to work, he acted like none of it had every happened.

He went back to business as usual and put his boat out to sea to catch some fish.

I see in Peter’s story a journey that many people of faith have experienced.

We have conversion moments and mountaintop moments along our faith journey that radically shift our minds and transform our hearts.

We become more loving and generous and bold in our faith.

But there are moments that we become caught by those old fears or shame or selfish desires and we slip back into business as usual.

Our energy and passion for God’s work in the world starts to wane.

Faith becomes about me, rather than we.

We see this when folks burnout.

We see this when churches become inwardly focused and maintain the status quo.

We see this even in denominational conversations when the fears about the budget and funding lead us to cuts that eliminate vital ministries.

And in all of those cases, our ministry becomes more known by arguments and complacency, rather than the life-giving power of Jesus.

Imagine if that is where those stories each ended.

A world in which self-interest and fear, division and inequity ruled the narrative.

But friends, that is not the end of these stories.

Our scriptures this morning are stories about how when we return back to our relationships we have the opportunity to repair the harm and God restores us to abundant living.

They are about the restoration of dignity.

The restoration of broken relationships with our neighbors.

The restoration of our relationship to God.

The restoration of a new economy – God’s economy.

Jacob returns home and seeks to repair any harm caused to his sibling by inundating him with gifts of lifestock and servants and wealth.

Goats and sheep and camels and cows and donkeys… all sent as a gift of reconciliation.

Jacob is making amends for what he had stolen.

And yet even as he is preparing to grovel and beg for his life from his elder brother, Esau runs out to meet him with radical love and forgiveness.

Esau is focused on love and can’t even begin to comprehend this gift.

“I have enough. I have plenty. Keep what is yours,” is his response.

When we are focused on love and reconciliation… there is always enough.

Because there is no mine and yours. No winners and losers. No divisions of class.

We simply work to care for one another.

Or as Bishop Sue Haupert-Johnson put it – we practice gentleness… magnanimity… “yielding me for the sake of we.”

It is not just our relationships that are restored, but our very souls and our communal life together.

In the same way, Peter is struggling when he realizes that he cannot simply return to the old ways. They fish all night and catch nothing.

But a familiar voice calls out from the sea shore and challenges him to throw his net on the other side.

Jesus sets a feast of forgiveness and abundance, reaching out, ready to offer grace.

Three questions follow their breakfast by the water.

Three opportunities to confess and proclaim.

Three chances for Peter to reconcile his guilt and shame over his denial.

And in the instructions that follow each question, Jesus shows Peter… and shows us… how to move forward.

Feed my lamps.

Take care of my sheep.

Feed my sheep.

Be about the work of the church.

Focus on what I have called you to do.

Love one another.

Be generous with what you have.

Forgive.

Repair.

Restore.

And you will find life and abundance.

Love God.

Love your neighbor.

Love yourself.

We don’t have to sacrifice everything in order to be good stewards.

We are simply asked to remember that the well-being and life of the people around us is essential to the well-being and life of ourselves.

We are asked to remember that abundance is meant to be shared.

That burdens are as well.

And that God’s money story is one of blessing, provision, forgiveness, and love.

May that story change our lives. Amen.

Let Go and Love

Posted on October 17, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Deuteronomy 15:1-2, 7-11; Matthew 19: 16-22

Over the last week or two, my husband and I have watched the first season of Netflix’s immensely popular Korean drama, Squid Game.

It isn’t a show I would recommend you run home and watch… it is incredibly and senselessly violent… but as I thought about our texts for this morning, I kept going back to the show’s premise.

456 players are invited into a game.

They are all drowning in debt.

Overwhelmed by what they owe.

And if they play and win six games, children’s games, they will receive the equivalent of $38 million dollars.

If they lose, they forfeit their life.

In an AP story about the series, Kim Tong-Hyung notes that the story is striking nerves in South Korea where debt is soaring:

“Many South Koreans despair of advancing in a society where good jobs are increasingly scarce and housing prices have skyrocketed, enticing many to borrow heavily to gamble on risky financial investments or cryptocurrencies. Household debt, at over… ($1.5 trillion), now exceeds the country’s annual economic output.”

You can’t help but notice those underlying concerns for a society on the brink because of debt as you watch Squid Game… televisions in the background of scenes echo these kind of sobering statistics.

And it isn’t just South Korea. Household debt in the United States just reached a new high at $15 trillion; the average debt among consumers is $92,727. This includes mortgages and student loans, as well as credit card balances… not all of which is unhealthy debt to carry. And yet the weight of those bills looms over us.

The players in the Squid Game are given a choice. They could live with the consequences of their debt or they could take a chance on a life where they would never have to worry about debt again.

But they would have to fight, and kill, and scheme their way to the top.

Unlike the show, where players are given a choice between life and death, scripture shows us a third way.

What if we were set free from the burden of debt… without having to harm or sacrifice or step on the lives of others?

If we go back to our text from Deuteronomy, that was God’s intention for human community.

Moses lays out what the ten commandments mean for their practical life with one another. We find instructions, laws, intended to help us love God, love our neighbor, and trust in God’s blessings.

And one of those rules is that every seventh year, the people were instructed to cancel all debts. Forgive the loan. Release the debtor. And if we read on through the end of the chapter, the call to set free any indebted servants or slaves.

This is because the burden of debt impacts not just the person who owes money, but their family for generations to come.

It impacts their dignity and their worth as a human being.

It creates classes and distinctions between us as people that are unhealthy.

As Lisle Gwynn Garrity writes in her artist statement, “the scheduled practice of releasing debts every seven years was designed to be both preventative and restorative. It prevented the wealth gap from growing beyond repair. It prevented systemic poverty from becoming strategic enslavement. It softened hearts turned cold and loosened fists clenched too tight. This practice of release reminds us that net worth is not synonymous with self-worth.” (A Sanctified Art)

I can’t help but think about the UAW strike at John Deere as I read those words. The reality is that there is a growing gap between the wages of workers and management. One of the primary concerns of labor right now is how to fairly share record earnings with employees and criticism over the drastic salary increases of the CEO.

Rules like these were intended to care for the dignity of each person and their relationship to the larger community.

But they were also a way to experience the continued blessings of God.

Just as God had set them free from the land of Egypt, so they were to set one another free.

Their communal economic life is to be rooted in freedom and stewardship and generosity. Rev. Pamela Hawkins writes, “Women and men are to embody God’s love for neighbors through practical, timely forgiving of debts and freeing of slaves, practicing a theology of liberation.” (CEB Women’s Bible, page 226)

And likewise, the people were called to be generous to those in need, lending freely to the poor. No matter if the person could repay. No matter if the year of jubilee was coming near.

The Israelites were called to freely give of their possessions, because as Elizabeth Corrie notes, “the land – and the wealth it provided – belonged to God. We show ingratitude when we refuse to share what was never ours to keep.” (CEB Women’s Bible, page 226)

We show ingratitude when we refuse to share what was never ours to keep.

Stewardship is the awareness that everything we have and everything we are is a gift.

A precious, precarious gift.

Not something to be hoarded but meant to be freely shared so that everyone we meet can receive these blessings of God as well.

But when we choose to play economic games that create winners and losers, the rich and the poor, slaves and owners… we have turned to a life of sin.

As Liz Theoharis puts it, it is, “…a sin against God if your brother or sister has to call out against you because you’re robbing their wages or because you’re not releasing their debts or because you’re making them slaves… the way you honor God is by how you care for yourself and your neighbor… There’s no way to be right with God if your neighbor is being oppressed.”

Which brings us to our text from Matthew.

A rich man approaches Jesus, searching for how to experience eternal, abundant life with God.

“Keep the commandments,” is Jesus’ answer… specifically all of the commandments that have to do with loving our neighbor.

Jesus doesn’t tell the man to say a particular prayer.

Or to focus on his own personal relationship with his Savior.

Jesus invites the man to take responsibility for the lives of his neighbors.

And while this man with many possessions replies that he has done this, Jesus pushes him further: “If you want to be complete, go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come follow me.”

You see, I don’t think we can separate this story of the rich man from our text in Deuteronomy.

He is living in a day and a time when the practice of Jubilee… the seventh year releasing of debts was not being practiced.

And yet, the reality of God’s intention for our human community remains the same.

Our economic lives and our spiritual lives are one in the same and we honor God by how we care for ourselves and our neighbors.

We honor God by being generous with the gifts we have received.

We honor God by being responsible stewards of what was “never ours to keep.”

We honor God by letting go of what we think belongs to us so that others might have life and life abundant.

And this man didn’t know if he could let go.

In preparing for today, I came across a wonderful piece by Leah Schade called “I want Jesus to Let Me Off the Hook: The Rich Young Man and Me.”

She describes what she wishes she found in this text:

“I can follow Jesus’ prescribed sequence in reverse! 1) Follow him. 2) get my heaven-treasure. 3) Give some money to “the poor.” 4) Sell off a couple of things I don’t want at a yard sale. 5) go happily on my way…

But it doesn’t work that way does it?” Schade writes. “Jesus was specific about the order of those verbs: go, sell, give, receive, follow.”

It is in letting go, in giving, that we receive.

It is in holding our wealth and our ways loosely, that we discover immense riches.

When we focus our lives on the needs of others, we will discover the path to God.

Or as Theoharis put it, we can’t forget the content of the good news Jesus came to preach: ” and that is release of slaves, remission of debts, and the year of the Jubilee.”

As we studied this summer, the first Christian community tried to live this out. They sold their possessions and gave it all to the community and there was no one in need among them.

They came to experience the joy of a life where the blessings of God were shared by one and all. A life where they truly loved God and loved their neighbors every single day.

They let go of class distinctions between the wealthy and the poor.

They let go of the power that money holds over their lives.

They let go of the shame of having too much or too little.

They let go and released it all and they rested and trusted in God’s blessings that poured into their lives.

Where do we find ourselves in this story?

We find ourselves in a world filled with debt.

A world with huge economic and social disparities between the wealthy and the poor.

In the final episode of Squid Game… and don’t worry, it’s not a spoiler… one of the characters ponders a life of poverty and a life of riches:

“Do you know what someone who doesn’t have any money has in common with someone with too much money to know what to do with?” he asks. “Living is no fun for either of them.”

But honestly, it isn’t just about the rich and the poor. We find ourselves in a world in which we do believe our self-worth is tied in with our net worth and so we have leveraged our lives to gain an illusion.

Or as Leah Schade points out… “most of us are just ‘desperately faking middle class.’ Many of us are just one disaster, one health crisis, one pink slip… away from losing everything…”

Because that is the thing, right… the lesson from Deuteronomy… whether we are rich or poor, the debtor or the collector, the slave or the owner… is all a twist of fate.

We find ourselves in a life and death struggle to keep moving up, everyone so desperately clinging to what we have, and frankly, it isn’t fun for any of us.

But there is another way.

What must we do to have eternal life? Real, true, abundant living?

A life filled with joy and treasures and community and grace and love?

e need to let go of the power that money holds over our lives.

We need to let go of our shame and our anxiety, our guilt and our greed.

We need to let go of the idea that the stuff we have will save us.

And while it isn’t going to be a popular idea… we need to release the people around us.

We need to let go of the idea that another person deserves to be poor or that someone has earned their wealth.

We need to set one another free from our debts and labels.

We need repent of how our economic practices have kept folks in generational poverty and have created divisions between us.

Because we were all slaves in the land of Egypt.

We were all formed from the dust of the earth.

We all have the breath of the living God within us.

We need to discover what it means to truly let go and love our neighbors.

Maybe then, we will discover once again the blessings of God that are so richly poured out upon us all.

For when we go to the world…

When we give all we think we possess away…

We will find the joy of abundant life.

Not just for ourselves, but for everyone we meet.

Amen.

Remember Enough

Posted on October 10, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Exodus 16: 1-18

Friends, over the next several weeks in worship, we are going to talk about how we connect our faith, our life, and our finances.

And while on one very practical level our stewardship time helps our church leaders to set a budget for the coming year, there is a much bigger reason that we take time every year to talk about generosity and stewardship.

Because even if we want to avoid the conversation, Jesus is very interested in what we do with our money and resources.

Your money story is a spiritual story and when we let God into this part of our lives, we find grace and love and transformation and joy.

Let us pray…

“Enough” by John van de Laar

Worry and stress are not hard for us, God,
We do them without thinking:

There is always the potential of threat
To our security,
Our comfort,
Our health,
Our relationships,
Our lives.
And we foolishly think that we could silence the fear
If we just had enough money,
Enough insurance,
Enough toys,
Enough stored away for a rainy day.
It’s never enough, though;
The voice of our fear will not be dismissed so easily.

But in the small, silent places within us is another voice;
One that beckons us into the foolishness of faith,
That points our gaze to the birds and the flowers,
That in unguarded moments, lets our muscles relax.
And our hearts lean into loved ones.;
In unexpected whispers we hear it,
Calling us to remember your promises,
Your grace,
Your faithfulness;
And, suddenly, we discover,
That it is enough.
Amen.

In the words that I just shared with you from John van de Laar, we hear echoes of the story that the world tries to tell us about money.

There is never enough.

We live with fear and stress and worry… and so much of that has been compounded by the pandemic and economic uncertainties and supply chain disruptions and… and…

There is always something out there with the potential to bring it all crashing to the ground.

Even in the moments when everything is okay…

When we find our footing…

When we have experienced a transformation for good…

We struggle to let go of the fear.

That is what we find in Exodus.

It is a story of a people who just a month and a half before were still in the land of Egypt.

They were living in “an economy of fear and deprivation,” writes Erin Weber-Johnson but God liberated them from oppression.

Can you imagine the joy and the freedom and the excitement of being able to write a new story for your life?

And yet they struggled to let go of their fear.

They were not yet sure what it meant to trust in God, they were already looking back upon their days in captivity with rose-colored glasses.

You see, they remembered that at the end of those days, they could sit by the fire and their pots were full and bread was plentiful… or at least it seemed that way in their memories.

They forgot that they could never produce enough to satisfy their oppressor.

Whether they lived or died, how many bricks they had to make, what materials they had to do so with… it was all based upon the whims of Pharaoh and their overseers.

The work was brutal and unending… or as Walter Bruggemann describes it “the endless rat race for sufficiency.”

Like livestock must be fed and equipment has to be maintained, the Egyptians knew they had to keep their workforce alive in order for them to work.

But it was never really enough.

The bare necessities of food and water… which the Israelites found themselves crying out for in the new barren land… are not enough

And to be honest, many of us experience this in our own lives, don’t we?

We work and we work, thinking eventually we might have enough money to provide for more than our basic needs… we work incredibly hard so that someday we might enjoy our life and by the time we get there we are too tired and worn out to experience it.

Our quest for “enough” is killing us.

Or perhaps your story is more like that of Pharoah.

We so fiercely guard what we have acquired that we begin to see outside forces as a threat to our power and position.

So we rail against taxes and we bemoan immigrants and we cry out about what belongs to us.

Or maybe it is far simpler… we hoard what we have without even being aware of the people we have impacted.

We have moved far beyond “enough”; filling our closets, and homes, and garages, and storage units with things and we cannot even remember why and we are too afraid or ashamed to consider the consequences of such a life.

Both of these stories are ruled by fear.

A fear that there never has been and never will be enough.

As Rev. Sarah Are writes,

Our anxiety is loud.

Our fear is loud.

Our anger is loud.

Our shame is loud.

Mental illness is loud.

Doubt is loud.

But there is another voice that is whispering in the background.

A voice that hovered over the waters of creation.

A voice that led the Israelites out of slavery with a pillar of fire.

A voice that promises not just to feed us, but to love us, to guide us, to give us rest.

When the Israelites found themselves in the middle of nowhere, utterly dependent upon God, it terrified them.

But that is precisely when God steps in and reminded them… I am enough. I will provide.

“At twilight you will eat meat. And in the morning you will have your fill of bread.” (Ex. 16: 12)

This food comes without requiring any labor other than stepping outside of their tent and gathering it up.

The only strings attached were that they didn’t take more than they needed.

If they did, it rotted and became infested with worms and stank.

OOF… Do you hear that… if we take more than we need it is just going to rot away.

And then, here was the kicker.

On the sixth day, they were told gather enough so that on the seventh they could rest.

God provided. God was enough.

You know, I got to thinking about that prayer that we say every single week in worship.

We ask for God to give us our daily bread.

Our manna from heaven.

And if you look at the Greek work that Jesus uses here it is: epiousios, which we understand to mean that which is necessary and sufficient, that which gives substance to our lives.

We are asking for God to teach us, shape us, remind us what truly is enough.

As we remember this story of manna in the wilderness, it wasn’t just about food.

It was also about learning who they were, who we are, as people who are loved by God.

It was about learning to obey God’s commands.

It was about learning to trust in God’s faithfulness.

It was about learning what it meant to share with one another.

And it was about learning to rest on God’s Sabbath.

And we are called to remember that our fears and our anxiety and what Walter Bruggemann calls “the endless rat race for sufficiency” (Money and Possessions), are never going to bring us enough.

We are called to remember God’s provision, God’s grace, and God’s faithfulness – not just with our minds, but to let these truths sink into our very bones and our daily existence so that we, too, will be shaped as God’s people.

You know… maybe the Lord’s Prayer should be our daily practice.

Our daily gathering of manna from heaven.

Our daily reminder of who we are and whose we are.

Because when we cry out, “give us this day our daily bread,” we are not simply asking God to make sure there is food on my table tonight.

We are asking for God to provide for all who hunger. To make sure that everyone has enough.

Those who hunger for rest.

Those who hunger for connection and relationship.

Those who hunger for liberation and freedom from oppression or addiction or worry.

We here at Immanuel believe that God is calling us to love, serve, and pray so that all who hunger might be fed by God’s grace.

We dream of a future where no one in our zip code goes to bed hungry at night.

We dream of a church where children and grandparents are growing together as they share meals and laughter.

We dream of a community where every need is met because we have so many volunteers at Immanuel willing to give of their time and talents and resources.

And that means putting hands and feet on this prayer and rolling up our sleeves and getting to work.

In our church money story, we can remember times we all rallied together to accomplish big things with God’s help – like when Faith Hall was built.

But with the uncertainty in the world today, stories of fear and scarcity and doubt start to creep in again.

We can get focused on making sure there is enough to keep the lights on and lose sight of God’s promises and faithfulness and who God has called us to become.

This fall, as our leaders wrestled with our goals for 2022, one step we knew we wanted to embrace was leading with mission. We want to be a church known for how we are reaching out to love our neighbor.

And so, we have a few goals related to that like focusing on a local 2022 Volunteers in Mission Trip, but we also discussed how we might have to adjust our own church money story to truly lead with mission.

We want to get to a place where 100% of our budget is supported by annual pledges SO THAT everything else that comes into our church, all of the other money and gifts that we receive can be given away.

We are trying to realign our own money story around what is enough so that we can turn around and bless our neighbors with everything else.

That is just one way that we are going to become the church God is yearning for us to be. A church where all who hunger are fed by God’s grace.

It is just one way that we are going to remember that God is enough. Amen.

What Do You Need?

Posted on September 27, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Job 2: 11-13; 2 Timothy 4:9-13

I don’t know about all of you… but after watching Rev. Remington’s video, I need some French fries.

“What do you need?”

It is such a simple question.

And yet actually taking the time to ask the question and listen for the answers… whew… it isn’t easy.

You would think that as a pastor, I’d be pretty good about that kind of stuff, but I had a breakthrough moment of my own a while back about this.

For well over a year, my spouse was nursing an ankle injury. He has had them before, but his typical regimen of rest, ice, compression, and elevation hadn’t healed this one 100%. Well, it got better… and then it didn’t.

For well over a year, I tried to help.

I offered to do things for him to reduce strain.

I gently encouraged him to see the doctor.

Well, let’s be honest, I nagged him to go and see a doctor.

I would ask how it felt.

But you know what I never did?

I never asked – “what do you need?”

Not until he asked me that question. I was experiencing some pretty intense heartburn and as I sat on the bathroom floor in tears, he came and sat down next to me and said those four words.

“what do you need?”

He didn’t judge or assume.

He simply met me on the floor and let me guide our next steps.

And I realized I had not done the same for him.

I had adjusted.

I had offered solutions.

I had tried to make him feel better.

But I had not sat down on the floor in the depths of it with him.

I had not really listened to his fears.

I hadn’t taken the time to ask what he needed.

And when I did, I finally was able to hear his fears about what could be wrong… his anxiety about navigating the scheduling… and I learned through that conversation that what he needed, the only thing he needed, was for me to call and schedule an appointment.

Oh.

I could do that.

Last week, right here in worship, we talked about a related question: “where does it hurt?”

We talked about the power of being seen and knowing that we are not alone.

Our question for today is such a great follow-up.

To ask “what do you need?” is a reminder that we all have needs.

But also that can’t assume to know what is best for other people.

As we reach out and connect with others, we need to give them the space and the ability to express what they need from us.

Our two scriptures for today do this in very different ways.

In the passage from Job, we find a man who has suffered incredible devastation.

He has lost his livelihood and he has lost his family.

All around us – we have friends and neighbors who have experienced these kinds of losses.

Maybe they are experiencing financial uncertainty that impacts every part of their lives.

Or maybe they, too, are wandering through the grief that comes when we lose a loved one.

In these verses from Job, his friends reach out and connect with Job in a profound way.

In her reflection on this text, Rev. Johnson notes that “they react with the proper level of emotion. They match the amplitude of the situation. They are feeling with Job… weeping aloud and tearing their robes.”

They don’t try to minimize his situation or make him feel better… they simply meet him where he is and join him there.

Rev. Johnson talked a bit in the video about her work in healthcare chaplaincy and she writes that in her training one of her supervisors used the analogy of a person who was stuck in the bottom of a hole.

“Our job” she writes, is “not to offer them a rescue line and attempt to pull them out, but to descend into the hole to bear witness to their reality and be with them.”

Her words made me think of a lecture given by Brene Brown on how we experience connection through empathy… let’s take a listen.

Job’s friends meet him at the bottom of that deep, dark place and offer connection and solidarity.

I do notice, they don’t actually ask that question, “what do you need?”

But neither do they make assumptions or try to fix it from their own perspectives.

In fact… if we keep reading on in Job… it is when they do start to offer their own answers and solutions to Job’s problem that Eliphaz and Bildad and Zophar start to become incredibly UN-helpful in the midst of Job’s pain.

But at least at the beginning, they get it right.

They give Job the space to grieve and join him there.

They show up.

While Job speaks no words during this time, but simply allows these friends to minister to him and join him in the depths… our other passage of scripture takes a completely different approach.

Paul is imprisoned… again… and he has very specific needs that he is expressing.

To start out with, Paul calls out the people who were supposed to be there, supporting him. There is a tinge of anger and frustration you can hear in these words, but he quickly transforms it.

He can’t do anything about that… but he does need for Timothy to come… and bring friends.

Paul needs connection.

He needs his people.

Oh… and he has a very specific list of items.

In her artist statement, Lauren Wright Pittman describes his yearning:

“He needs his cloak to wrap around his battered body and the company of his books to keep his imagination engaged. He needs parchments to share his wisdom and to proclaim the Good News. He could have passed on bitterness to Timothy, but instead expresses gratitude for God’s provision. I believe the foundational need of this text is forgiveness. Forgiveness transforms Paul’s life. It enables him to seek companionship and comfort instead of vengeance.”

Paul is in a place where he can name what he needs. And some of it Timothy can provide… some of it he might not be able to do.

But asking the question and listening to the fullness of the response is important.

Even if you can’t meet the need, you can acknowledge that it is, in fact, their need.

Not your assumptions about what they need.

Not simply what you are willing to offer – even if it won’t help them.

But asking someone “what do you need?” shows that we are allowing the person we are meeting – down in that dark pit – to have autonomy. We are giving them permission to share what they are ready to share.

That is the lesson it took me a year to learn with my spouse.

I centered myself as the person who was the helper with my ideas and solutions.

When I met him where he was, stopped making assumptions, and actually listened, he was finally able to communicate his need.

That is what we can do for one another.

We can stop making assumptions or trying to make it better… silver-lining it, as Brene Brown would say.

Instead, we can simply meet people where they are.

We can ask what they need and listen to their answers.

Whether or not we can provide is irrelevant.

What is important is that we are there…. present… joining them…

That we are fueling connection and that they are not alone.

May it be so.

I See You

Posted on September 19, 2021Leave a comment

Text: 1 Samuel 1:1-18

Where does it hurt?

I distinctly remember an incident when one of my nephews took a tumble and as soon as they hit the ground the wails and the tears began.

I rushed over to offer comfort and care.

Where does it hurt? I asked…

And though they couldn’t form the words, they could point to the scrape on their elbow.

“Oh no!” I replied. “It’s so bad we might have to cut your whole arm off!”

And suddenly the tears turned to giggles and a kiss and a hug from Aunt Katie made everything better.

Oh how I wish that hugs and kisses from aunts could make every hurt go away so quickly.

But the reality is that we have all experienced pain and suffering.

We try to put on a brave face and when someone asks we say we are fine.

But there are days when we are not.

And on those days, we need someone to see us.

To acknowledge our pain.

To hold it up as truth, rather than to dismiss or minimize it.

I am thirty-nine years old. I have been married for fourteen years. And my spouse and I have been unable to have children.

We have nine nieces and nephews that we love dearly and two cats that are our babies.

But we do not have children.

And some days that hurts.

I know that there are other folks in this room today that have known this kind of hurt.

The pain of infertility or miscarriage or the loss of a child.

Some of you have known the hurt of Hannah from our scripture today.

And when I think about Hannah’s story… and my own story… and maybe your story… I have to first acknowledge that Hannah is more that that one piece of her story.

Hannah is a daughter. And a wife. And a faithful believer.

She is loved.

She is whole and complete just as she is.

And… there are days when it hurts.

Our scripture for today talks about how every year the family would make their annual pilgrimage for worship and sacrifice.

And every year, that experience brought her pain.

It was the pain of how Elkanah’s other wife, Peninnah would taunt and bully her for not having children.

It was the pain of how her husband would try to minimize her pain, “why are you upset? Aren’t I enough for you?”

And it was even the pain of how those who served in the sanctuary made assumptions about what was wrong with her.

In the Message translation of this passage, it says: “Every time she went to the sanctuary of God she could expect to be taunted.”

Can you imagine if that place that is supposed to be holy and safe is the place where it hurts the most?

Well… some of you can.

The church is not perfect.

And at times has been downright terrible.

I confess and lament that the church and its people has been the source of harm.

It is not okay.

And I hope and pray and work so that this church is a place of God’s grace and love and mercy and welcome… for everyone.

When Hannah went to the sanctuary of God, she felt the hurt of childlessness more profoundly than at other times in her life.

And the text tells us that faced with others who couldn’t/didn’t listen to her hurt, she pulled herself together, and pretended that the pain wasn’t there.

Oh – how often do we do that.

We hide our pain.

We smile through gritted teeth.

We have been dismissed so many times that we start to feel that what we are experiencing is shameful.

Whether it is a job loss… or addiction… or a loved one in prison… or your mental health… or chronic pain… we carry the hurt quietly.

But all alone, in the sanctuary, in prayer… Hannah spoke aloud her hurt to God.

As Lisle Gwynn Garrity created this image for our worship series, she thought of this woman.

She writes, “In Hannah, I see a woman who has been mocked, shamed, diminished, and ignored. However, she refuses to be silenced. In the presence of her pain, she grits her teeth, pours her heart out before God, and insists that we see her: “Just look at my pain and remember me!” (1 Samuel 1:11) I decided to render her body as fading into the scene to symbolize the invisibility she feels, and also the vulnerable transparency she exudes.” (A Sanctified Art)

“Look at my pain. Remember me,” she cries out.

And friends, here is the gospel truth.

God hears our cries.

In the presence of God, all hurt is seen.

It was there that Eli, the priest, came across her weeping.

He initially made assumptions… she must be drunk… carrying on like that.

But having just been honest with God, Hannah finds the courage to be honest with Eli.

“I am a very sad woman.” She replies. “I am carrying a great burden.”

And for the first time… someone sees her hurt.

Eli can’t fix it.

He can’t make any promises.

But he sees her.

He sees her pain.

And he prays for her… praying to the God who knows all our hurts and who is always with us.

And here is the powerful thing about being seen.

When we are seen, we are no longer alone.

The hurt might still be there… but suddenly it isn’t something that we have to carry by ourselves.

Our passage for today says that once Eli sees her and prays for her, Hannah is able to get up.

She is able to find some peace.

She walks away and she no longer feels that deep sadness.

As I think about the stories that Rev. Brittany shared about her work with the homeless, there are so many problems and hurts in this world that we cannot fix.

But it is enough to be seen.

To be treated with dignity.

To know that someone is standing alongside us in the midst of it.

There are people in each of our lives that are hurting… for one reason or another.

And sometimes we feel helpless and hopeless because we can’t solve their problems or make it all go away.

But friends, all you need to do is listen.

Be present.

See them. Remember them. Walk with them.

Drop a card in the mail.

Leave a voicemail.

Look them in the eyes.

Hold their hand.

Let them be more than the place where it hurts, without ignoring that sometimes… it does hurt.

And folks… if you are hurting… this place is a safe place to share.

Please reach out to me… I am happy to sit with you, cry with you, yell at the heavens with you…

And there are lots of other good folks right here that are willing to do the same.

You are not alone.

Be Curious.

Posted on September 12, 2021Leave a comment

Text: John 1:43-51

I love the definition of curiosity that Dr. Nadella just offered to us.

“Curiosity is asking questions with care and diligence. It is being willing to learn and unlearn and engaging with respect and care for the relationship.”

We ask, because we care.

As I thought about all of the possible topics and scriptures that we could dive into this fall at Immanuel, this series caught my attention precisely because what this world needs is a little bit more caring and connection.

It isn’t that we don’t care.

But it has been so hard to engage in the kinds of connection that we had been used to.

And I’m not just talking about the pandemic.

Our nation is deeply divided.

We have ideological distance between us that we haven’t figured out how to overcome.

Every action, every word, puts you in a box where you are either pro- or anti- whatever today’s hot-button issue is.

We have forgotten that we are all in this together.

We have forgotten that we are all dust, formed from the earth.

We have forgotten that it is God’s spirit that breathed into us giving us life.

We have forgotten that we are all God’s children.

Earlier this week, I listened to an interview with Kenneth Feinberg, who administered the 9/11 Victim Compensation Fund. He shared about the care and diligence that went into listening to the story of every victim and their loved ones as they determined how best to provide support in the aftermath of that horrific act twenty years ago.

He talked about how the entire nation and our congressional leadership rallied together to create this fund. “There wasn’t any red state, blue state; republican, democrat. This program, twenty years ago, is like time out of mind. I don’t know if we could ever do this today.” (https://www.npr.org/2021/09/07/1034914080/determining-what-a-9-11-victims-life-is-worth-climate-change-in-nigeria)

Our first instinct today is to politicize and draw lines in the sand…

To make assumptions about where someone is coming from…

And to do whatever we can to make sure whoever is the “other” in our story doesn’t win.

Which takes me back to Nathanael from our scripture reading this morning.

The scripture starts a few verses back when John the Baptist points out the Lamb of God to his own disciples. Two of them immediately walk away and start to follow Jesus.

Jesus turns around and notices them and asks what they are looking for.

Andrew and John reply: “Rabbi, where are you staying?”

Jesus’ only answer… “come and see.”

In Greek, his response literally means that if they follow him, they will understand and perceive the truth.

He is inviting them into a curiosity that “transcends superficial knowledge and requires greater investment of ones’ time and resources.” (Dr. Raj Nadella)

After just one day with Jesus… they can understand that he is not just a rabbi like John the Baptist. He truly is the Messiah.

And these disciples dive right in, investing their time and energy and indeed their whole lives.

Andrew brings along his brother Simon, nicknamed Peter…

Philip is invited on the journey as well… and like the others, he finds that curiosity is contagious.

So in our scripture for today, Philip rushes to his friend, Nathanael, to bring him news – exciting news! – about the Messiah.

But Nathanael’s first instinct is to label it as “fake news.”

He brings his own bias and assumptions into the conversation and discounts the possibility.

“Hrmph… can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

This isn’t a question asked with care and diligence.

But rather than engage in the divisiveness…

Rather than argue his own point…

Rather than get offended or huffy or unfriend his jaded companion…

Philip turns back to curiosity.

“Come and see,” is the invitation he offers.

He cares for and respects his friend’s position… but thinks perhaps there is something deeper there they both could discover.

In doing so, Philip leaves open the possibility that he might be wrong… maybe what they find will confirm Nathanael’s assumptions…

But he also creates space for Nathanael to be wrong, too.

Philip invites Nathanael to go on a journey with him…

Together, all of these disciples grow deeper in their relationship with Jesus, but they grow in their capacity to be the people God created them to be.

Curiosity gives us the space to learn and to unlearn what we thought we knew about someone.

It prioritizes the other person and their story and our relationship, rather than our judgements about them.

Which reminds me of a scene from the television show, Ted Lasso.

Ted is a wildly successful American football coach who is brought to England to lead a struggling Premier Soccer League team.

Ted knows nothing about soccer, but he’s willing to learn.

The old team owner, Rupert, lost his stake as part of a divorce settlement and is having a hard time letting go.

The two of them find themselves at a bar…

Be curious… not judgmental.

Ted Lasso expresses curiosity and care and kindness.

He wants to know more about this new culture he finds himself immersed in and is willing to share of himself.

But Rupert?

Rupert has no respect for Ted.

He sees him as the enemy and has already made a judgment about who he is and what he could possibly do.

What would happen if we all approached one another with curiosity rather than judgment?

If we asked, with care and love, where someone was coming from… rather than assume their answer?

What if as we shared our own stories, we invited people to be curious, to come and to see, and to ask their own questions… rather than to force our views down their throats?

Like the disciples, it might require us to invest time and resources in one another.

We might have to set aside some of our own prior assumptions.

But then again… we just might gain a deeper understanding of our neighbors and ourselves.

We might discover once again our common humanity.

Be curious.

Be willing to engage and ask questions out of care.

Be willing to share your own story.

And maybe… just maybe… we will also grow in our capacity to be the people that God created us to be.