tr.v. sal·vaged 1) To save from loss or destruction. 2) To save (discarded or damaged material) for further use. Welcome to the blog of Rev. Katie Z. Dawson, pastor at Immanuel United Methodist Church
Last week, Pastor Lee from Women at the Well shared with us part of the story of the rich, young, ruler in Mark’s gospel.
This morning, we hear the second half of that story… the response of the disciples… our response… to the invitation Jesus offers this faithful follower.
Will you pray with me?
Over these last few weeks, we have been hanging out with the gospel of Mark and the challenging ways that Jesus calls us to follow.
Are we able to take up our cross and drink the cup of suffering?
Are we able to stand up for our selves or others?
Are we able to embrace difference and let others lead?
Are we able to see the vulnerable around us, especially children, and to see their gifts along with their needs?
Are we able to hear the truth about that one darned thing in our lives that keeps us from saying, “YES” with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength?
And after walking with Jesus through these chapters, I’m not surprised if we, like the disciples find ourselves frustrated when he tells us, “Children, it’s difficult to enter God’s kingdom!”
Whatever happened to, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light?”
Where are the promises that we will led beside the still waters and into green pastures?
Like James and John and Matthew and Andrew we cry out – “Then who on earth can be saved, Jesus?”
Because as must as we try, we find it awfully difficult to sacrifice our own well-being for the sake of others.
Fear keeps us from standing up for others or for ourselves.
Our need for control and stability gets in the way of our willingness to embrace and celebrate the differences among us.
We worry about what will happen if we let the kids run amok in our midst.
We are comfortable… oh so comfortable… with that one blasted thing that keeps us from standing in the life-giving stream of God’s love and grace and power.
Who can be saved?
Who is able?
Can anyone among us truly say, “YES?”
And then Jesus looks at us carefully. The Greek word here, emblepo, indicates that he is looking searchingly… clearly… directly into our very hearts….
“With human beings it’s impossible.”
We can’t do it.
There is nothing we can do or give or accomplish that will earn us a spot in God’s kingdom.
We are not able.
And that’s why the second half of Jesus’ words are so important:
“but… All things are possible with God.”
You see, our ability to be saved, our ability to enter God’s kingdom, our ability to follow Jesus, our ability to provide for ourselves or our families… none of it comes from us.
Nothing we are and nothing we have is the result of our own effort or striving or accomplishment.
It is all because of God.
As the early Hebrew community was told as they were being led out of Egypt, we need to remember, we need to never forget that it was God who rescued us from Egypt.
It was God who led us through the desert.
It was God who made water flow out of rock and sent mana from heaven.
It was God that led some people from Burns UMC out to a farmhouse on 49th Street to start a new faith community.
It was God that helped us lay the cornerstone for a new church to meet a growing worshipping congregation in 1968.
It was God that gave us the ability to build and pay for Faith Hall a decade ago.
It was God that has formed the faith of generations of children… who in turn have brought their children and grandchildren back to this place.
It was God that gave us the very breath of life and it is God that gives us the ability to work and to serve and to love and to follow.
Moses tells those Israelites in the desert – when you look around at your houses and your tables set full of food and when everything around you is thriving, don’t you dare think that it was your own strength or ability that accomplished these things.
Remember your God.
God is the one who has given us strength.
God is the one who has made us able.
God is the one who calls us… and then God equips us to answer, to follow, to say YES.
You know… I look out at the world on a week like this when evil and hatred and violence seem to be winning and I almost want to give up.
I don’t think I have the ability to stand in the gap.
I don’t have the energy to keep speaking out for the way of love and hope.
I don’t know how to change the hearts of others.
Do you ever feel that way?
But then, I come to worship.
I come to this place.
I hear these words of scripture.
I see your faces.
I sing with all of my heart these songs.
And I remember that it’s not all up to me.
It’s not my ability or skills or talents that will change this world.
But God can.
And God will.
If I just open up my life a little bit to let God use me.
If I set my fear and hesitation and need for control to the side and let God work through me.
If I place these gifts in God’s hands…
If I turn to others gathered here…
If we start with the things God has already given us the ability to do…
If we allow ourselves to be pulled, stretched, called…
If we count all of the blessings God has poured out into our life and if we just let go and trust…
God is able.
And God makes us able.
Able to give back.
Able to reach out in love.
Able to shine light in darkness.
Able to offer hope in the midst of despair.
Yes, Lord, We are Able…
And it is all because of You.
Thanks be to God… Amen.
Over the past eight months, I have learned a lot about the people of Immanuel UMC. I had heard you were friendly and welcoming, hospitable and that this was a caring church, but those are really just words until you see them lived out in people’s lives. And having a fresh set of eyes – an outsiders eyes – I want to share just a few things I’ve learned. I’ve learned that you are quick to show up at the bedside of a friend and have often have visited before either of us pastors hear someone is in the hospital or is sick. I’ve discovered the joy filled welcome that so many greeters offer to those who walk in the doors on Sunday mornings. I see the care that is taken to make this a hospitable and welcoming place – from the pots of coffee that are prepared to the flexibility to adapt and use this space differently, like you did with the nursery and library moves. On the sign outside our building, it says “All Welcome!” and you really want everyone to feel welcome here. But I must share that I also come as an outsider that looks and talks a whole lot like many of you do here in the church…. And on the surface, whether we intend for it to or not, that is itself a barrier for people who may not look or speak like the majority of those in this room. Being a part of this church, I can now see and name the multitude of ways we are diverse. We have a wide range of ages – from four week old babies to 104 year olds! We are people who are wealthy and who are struggling financially. We are healthy and we are in need of healing. Some of us have been educated by the streets and some of us have taught in universities. We vote republican and we vote democrat. And perhaps the most striking dichotomy of all: Some of us are Hawkeyes and some of us are Cyclones and some of us are Panthers and some of us don’t fit into any of those categories, but we still somehow are able to worship together 😉 We have made room in this place for all of this difference. God is good! Yet, there are still people missing from our midst. There are still people in this neighborhood and in this larger community who do not know that they would be welcome here. Even inside this caring, loving community, there are still people who feel like they simply don’t quite belong. Our sign outside might say, “All Welcome…” but do we truly live that out with every fiber of our being? In our gospel reading for this morning, the question of who belongs is lifted up. One afternoon, Jesus is hanging out with some of his disciples… who were all Jewish, both ethnically and religiously. In other words, they would have looked and talked the same. Philip and Andrew were out and about in the community when they encountered some Greeks who were in town for the festival. And these Greeks approached the pair and asked if they might see Jesus. What is interesting is that these are the same words that were used when Philip and Andrew first met Jesus… He asked them to “come and see.” So, these Greeks want to do more than just meet Jesus – they want to become followers OF Jesus. I can imagine Philip and Andrew turned to each other and started whispering. “They want to see Jesus?” “But they are Greek!” “Um…. Let’s go ask first…” What was the big deal? First of all, in the gospel of John, the disciples understood themselves to be part of a Jewish movement. They were traveling the countryside, preaching good news to the poor, but most of those people looked remarkably like them. Yes, there had been that one encounter with a Samaritan woman, but for the most part, this was a Jewish movement for Jewish people. This is only the second time in John’s gospel that Jesus encounters gentiles, people outside the Jewish community. Second, I have always found the disciples to be a bit thick. It takes them a little longer to catch on than we would like. They tried to keep the children from Jesus, but he welcomed them. They watched as he embraced sinners and prostitutes and outcasts. Yes, the ethnicity of these Greeks set them apart from Jesus’ disciples. At a minimum, their accents would have distinguished them. But maybe they dressed different and had a lighter hair and fairer skin. But Jesus had shown again and again that all sorts of people were welcome. Can you picture it? They walk up to Jesus, with the Greeks standing not too far behind them and they ask: “Hey Jesus, do you want to see those people, or should we send them away?” We want Jesus to answer with something like –“ Sure! Have them come over!” or “You guys just don’t get it… of COURSE I want to see them.” But he doesn’t. Jesus instead, for all to hear, starts talking about how you have to die to bear fruit. That he is going to give up his life and anyone who wants to follow him must give up theirs as well. When we think of it in the context of this diversity, Jesus’ words make a bit more sense. Standing before him are Andrew and Philip, the first Jewish disciples… and behind them are those who might become the first Greek disciples. Will they be able to get along? Will they be able to set aside their differences to follow him? Or will their pasts get in the way of the future God has planned for our salvation? This parable of sorts that Jesus offers is all about their identity. They can cling to their heritage and their labels, but if they do so they will always remain strangers. They will remain in their differences and never be lifted up with Christ. But if they let go of their worldly identity… their distinctions as Jews and Greeks… then they will come to know true life in the community of Jesus Christ. Jesus is asking them, and us, to declare our allegiance. Jesus invites us to let go of our labels – Jew or Greek, male or female, young or old and to take on a new identity as the servant of Christ… to identify ourselves not by any characteristic of this world, but to claim our identity in Jesus’ death and resurrection. I am white. I am a female. I am American. I am United Methodist. But first and foremost and more important than any of those other labels, I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. And the question raised by this parable is what kind of sacrifices do we need to make… what do we need to risk… in order for the world to know that is the core of our identity? Whether we want it to or not, all of those other identifying characteristics can get in the way of the world knowing the love of God in Jesus Christ. The color of our skin can be a barrier. The way we talk can be a barrier. Our nationality can be a barrier. And if we want others to see Jesus in us… If we want others to know and follow him who died to save us all… then it is up to us to cross whatever barriers might exist and be present with people where they are. Recently, Samsung put together an ad that describes the kind of hospitality and love that helps someone who feels like they are on the outside experience what it might like to be in. Muhareem is deaf and his primary language is sign language. Yet as he encounters neighbors and strangers in the world, they don’t speak his language. But what if they did? What if a whole neighborhood decided to cross a barrier and meet Muhareem where he is? What sacrifices can we make? What risks can we take? What barriers can we cross to help others see Jesus? God loves all sorts of people who live outside of these four walls. Single dads. Drug addicts. The homebound elderly. Children who are competing for first place in a contest. Folks who partied too much last night. So the question I leave us with today is what might Jesus be asking us to do to cross a barrier and share the love of Christ with them today? What might we, as a church, let go of, so that the world might know Jesus?
While a student in seminary, I had the opportunity and privilege to take Clinical Pastoral Education through the Vanderbilt University Medical Center. I was thrown into the lions den, as it were, and was invited to put my very limited skills to use caring for patients and their families in some of the most trying times of their lives. To say I was unprepared is an understatement. I had no idea what would be expected of me. As borderline introvert, I was terrified of knocking on strangers doors. I had no clue what to say to someone who was going through the horrors of chemotherapy or losing a loved one.
I remember one of my very first patients. I had been assigned to the Immuno-suppression wing of the hospital. All of the patients there were battling diseases like leukemia that left their immune systems compromised either because of the illness or the treatment. Gowns and masks were required in over half of the rooms. I didn’t know how I would relate to someone with all of those barriers in the way. I was unsure of myself and of what this person would be like and I wanted to run and hide. But as I rode the elevator up to the 9th floor… I took deep breaths and prayed. O Lord… I have no idea what I’m doing… please help.
When I walked into Amanda’s room, she cracked a joke about how all of us should have called ahead and planned better because in our gowns and masks we were all dressed alike. My muscles relaxed, my spirits lightened, and I laughed right along with her.
Over the next few days and weeks we talked about the absurdity of a thing like leukemia. We talked about how she was feeling as they prepared for a bone marrow transplant. We talked about gratitude for her friends and family who were pulling behind her in her hometown. She showed me pictures of the coffee cans at the gas station where folks were contributing money to help pay for treatments. And she asked me to pray with her and for her. We prayed for faith in the tough times. We prayed that she might find ways to reconnect with the God she had long forgotten about. We poured ourselves over devotional books and I answered her never ceasing stream of questions about the faith… sometimes by simply giving her more questions to think about.
Amanda was my first patient during CPE and she was also one of my last. Her course of treatment kept her there in the hospital almost the entire summer of my clinical and so we regularly kept in touch. I missed the few weeks when she wasn’t there because she was finally able to go home and be with family and friends again. On one of my last days, she was there once again, for her final treatment. Things were looking good. We praised God with laughter and singing and ate cake together.
I did not have the resources to minister to Amanda. I had never done this kind of work before. I didn’t know what to say or what to do or where to sit or how to act. But God did. God knew what both Amanda and I needed in that moment, and through the amazing work of the Holy Spirit, both of our lives were ministered to that summer.
There are so many times in our lives when we come to a crossroads. When our lives intersect with the lives of other people and we have the unique and awesome opportunity to share the love of God with them. In those moments, it is not always what we have done or said, but it is how the Holy Spirit has moved in the midst of that intersection that has given the moment and the relationship power.
Sometimes it is a homeless man on a street corner who asks for some money.
Sometimes it is a new neighbor who moved in because she and her husband just divorced.
Sometimes it is a person at a gas station whose car has run out of gas.
Sometimes it is sitting down at the dinner table with extended family and reconnecting with an aunt or a cousin on a new level.
In these intersections… where our lives cross the paths of the lives of other people, it is extraordinarily common for us to feel out of our element. We might be anxious We might feel ill-equipped to truly meet their needs. We might fear rejection or for our own safety. We might simply be comfortable with remaining strangers and don’t want our lives to really change.
But through the grace and power of the Holy Spirit, sometimes we find the strength to act… like I did with Amanda in that hospital room.
More often than not, however, we come to these intersections and we brush up against the life of someone else and we move on. We fail to act. We fail to speak. We fail to truly touch that person.
What we fail to do, is to draw upon the power of the Holy Spirit that can transform all of our lives.
Art by: “Stushie” www.stushieart.com
If we doubt that power of the Holy Spirit, then maybe we need to be reminded of what happened on this festival day we call Pentecost.
Let’s set the scene and take ourselves back 2000 years…
10 days ago, Jesus rose up… was carried off into heaven. And the disciples returned to Jerusalem and spent the next few days praying and worshipping God in the temple and fellowshipping with the other believers. For the next ten days, they remained a small group of faithful men and women – content to love God and love one another. There are just over 100 of them… the size of a nice little church today. We don’t hear any stories of miracles. Nobody is saved during this time. They don’t go out into the streets proclaiming the word of God. No… they remain with their own little community, they take care of some business and elect a new apostle to replace Judas, and that is pretty much it.
Did their lives intersect with other people in those 10 days? Probably. They probably were out in the marketplace to buy food. They rubbed shoulders with folks in the temple. They would have met all sorts of folks coming into town for the Jewish celebration of Shavout… or the Festival of Weeks. But nowhere does the book of Acts tell us that they did anything about it.
They let those countless intersections and moments of crossed paths pass them by. They kept their heads low. They stayed with their friends. They took no chances.
They sound like a rather boring, small-town church, that gathers together for worship and food and fellowship and has some really deep connections with one another, but who aren’t doing anything out in their community. They sound like a lot of the churches we have in the United Methodist tradition. Churches that just plod along, doing what they have to in order to get by.
This was the church for 10 days. A lifeless, boring, safe little group.
In fact, on the day we call Pentecost – 50 days after the resurrection of Christ, 50 days after the Passover, they weren’t out in the community celebrating with others. The people who had come from all corners of the world would have been celebrating the gift of the Torah and reading together from the Book of Ruth and sharing in festive meals… but no, that group of 120 were all gathered together in a house, doing their own thing.
God had something else in mind that morning…
They might have been safely tucked away in a house, but the Holy Spirit rushed into that place and stirred them up. A holy fire was lit in their hearts and they began to shout and speak and sing and the voices of those 120 people carried beyond the walls of the house out to the streets where people had been passing by.
Can you imagine that? Can you imagine our joyful noise here in the walls of the church being so loud and exciting and exuberant and that people who are walking by stop and stare and maybe even come in? There might not be that many folks outside our doors this morning, but on Pentecost in Jerusalem, the streets were full.
And out there in the streets, people stopped and stared. They stared at this house where the commotion was so great. They came closer and peeked in the windows. A crowd started to gather out there in the middle of the road as people were intrigued by what they were hearing. As they looked around, they saw folks who looked nothing like them, but each began to realize they could hear in their own native language.
I sometimes wonder how long it took for Peter and James and Mary and Salome and others inside that house to realize that they were attracting attention. How long did it take for them to open their eyes and see all of the faces staring back at them through the windows? How long did it take for them to work up the courage to open the door and walk out into the street and to speak?
They were ill-equipped and scared. They were anxious and hesitant. They weren’t quite sure they were ready for their lives to be changed.
But there at the intersection of their lives and the lives of those gathered, the Holy Spirit was present. For the first time in 10 days, probably even longer… since much of the time after Jesus rose from the dead they were huddled together afraid also… they found the power and the courage and the words to speak the good news of God.
Within hours… that intersection of lives turned a small group of 120 believers into a church of 3000 persons.
In the book of Romans this morning, we were reminded that there are times in our lives when we cannot see God’s future. We don’t know who is waiting just around the corner. We don’t know what we might be asked to do next. Just like this whole creation, our lives are pregnant with hope and anticipation and yes, sometimes fear and trembling and trepidation…
As I rode up the elevator on that day six years ago to the ninth floor of the hospital, I was full of that kind of expectation. I didn’t know what to do or what to say or how to act… but God was already there, in that moment, ready and waiting for me.
Romans 8:26-28 tell us: the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.
The Holy Spirit intercedes at those intersections in our lives. The Holy Spirit can and does give us the power we need to reach out with the right words at the right time.
She reached out as I stepped off that elevator and created laughter and conversation out of my wordless heart. She has moved us to stop and talk with the homeless guy on the street corner and to buy him a sandwich. She has interceded with you as you carried a plate of cookies to the new neighbor and listened to her heartache. The Holy Spirit has been present at the intersection when you give the guy with his gas can a ride back to the car. And she has been by our sides as we have hard conversations with family members about the skeletons in our closets and the reconciliation we need.
The Holy Spirit was there as Peter stepped out of the comfort zone of familiar community and safety and spoke to the crowds gathered outside the house. The Holy Spirit gave him words and power and purpose… none of which had been there before. At that intersection of a new and an old faith, a church was born. Lives were transformed.
We are going to leave this place today and each go our separate ways. Whether it is off to the campground or lunch with friends or back home… pay attention to the intersections in your lives. Pay attention to the paths you cross. Pay attention to the other people you encounter. And although you might not know what to say or how to say it… and even if you don’t WANT to… take a deep breath and pray…. “O Lord… I have no idea what I’m doing… please help.”
May the Holy Spirit intercede in every intersection of your life… Amen.
