the world is my parish…

There is this saying sometimes about Methodists… that we’ll marry and bury anyone.  And in my little town, I guess that is true.

Most of the weddings that I have officated in these past three years have not been church members.

Most of the funerals I have presided over have not been church members.

I understand and honor and respect the traditions and policies of the other churches in town. There are good reasons for asking couples to belong to the church before they get married within in.  There are reasons that in lay terms we call it “Christian burial.”  As pastors, we invoke… or at least name the presence of God in these sacred and holy moments and ideally, the person or couple would want God there and would hold to our beliefs about God as well.

But that is not always the case.

A couple does not always have a church home or a background in the faith.  An individual or a family may have fallen away from church or may want nothing to do with the church in their final days.  And yet, I get a phone call that my services are needed… and I try my best to respond.

I cringe at the idea that the church is a place where religious services are provided.  I hate the consumer implications of such a statement.  So, as I started typing that last paragraph and the idea of a supermarket came into my head, I started to go back and change it a bit.

But I can’t… because when I get the phone call from the funeral home or from a young (or old) couple… I hear more than a request for services.  I hear an invitation to be in relationship.  I hear the voice of a person who is seeking the presence of God. They might not fully understand what that means, but they are inviting me into a relationship with them and together we get to discover how God is moving in their lives.

When I talk with my congregation members about what our church is about, one of the first things that they mention is our open communion table.  The fact that everyone is welcome to come and participate.  And one of the second things they mention is that our church is open to the people of our community and that we will go and sit with families that are not a part of our church when their loved one has died… that we will get the ladies together and put on a funeral dinner… that we will open our doors to a couple who wants to join their lives together in marriage.

John Wesley might have meant something very different when he said, “The world is my parish.”  But I understood him to mean that his minstry was not limited to a local parish.  His ministry was not limited to the people who sat in the pews every Sunday.  His ministry was out in the world. And my ministry belongs to the community as much as it does to my congregation.

Setting the Table: The Plate

Two weeks ago, I was honored to be asked to plan worship for a gathering of clergy in Des Moines. A friend, Rev. Sean McRoberts planned the service with me and we had everything arranged and ready to go. I just had to make sure to arrive early enough in the morning that I could meet with the technical engineer to set up the microphones and other electronics we would need that morning.

Lately, I have not been a morning person – and this particular trip required that I leave my house by 6:30. Which meant waking up by 5:30 to get myself ready. Now, I know that many of you have internal clocks that work much differently than mine and 5:30 is sleeping in… but for me – this was a super super early morning.

The alarm went off. I turned it off. And promptly pulled the covers back over my head. Every fiber of my being wanted to go back to sleep. So I did.

Notice, I didn’t hit the snooze button. I turned the alarm off, and fell back to sleep.

Ten minutes later, something woke me up. Whether it was the rustle and squacks of the birds in the tree, or a cat pouncing on my legs in the bed or just some kind of internal switch – I woke up. And I remember very distinctly taking a deep breath and saying – thank God. And I didn’t mean it in an offhand, irreligious kind of way. I was grateful to God that I had woken up. I was grateful to God that although my body was not ready or willing, God was making sure I was going to be able to answer the call I had received. I was grateful to God, because even though I was weak – he is strong.

How many of you have heard of the word “providence”?

What exactly does “providence” mean?

The word originally comes from the Latin providentia – and has to do with foresight, prudence, the ability to see ahead. So when we talk about God’s providence – we think of God’s ability to provide for, to direct, to shape the future.

Martin Luther understood providence to be both the direct and indirect work of God in the world. Not only does God provide the good things we need for human life – but God also works through family, government, jobs, and other people. “We receive these blessings not from them, but, through them, from God.”

If you remember last week the story of the cellerar – the monk in charge of looking after the storage room at the monastery – even mundane and simple tasks can be a vehicle of God’s blessing to others. God can use even the lowliest of jobs for his glory.

And so, Providence is the way that God cares for the universe – upholds the universe – and also the special ways that God extraordinarily intervenes in the lives of God’s people.

That holy providence is the subject of our psalter this month. The Psalmist reminds us of the glorious deeds of the Lord – the wonders that he has done… wonders that we are supposed to pass on to generation after generation.

According to the Psalmist our ancestors were a stubborn and rebellious people. They witnessed miracles: they were released from bondage in Egypt, they passed through the Red Sea, they were led through the desert by cloud and light, they drank pure clear water from rocks in the midst of the wilderness… and yet they doubted. Yet they did not, could not, would not believe that God would continue to provide.

“Can God spread a table in the wilderness?” they grumbled. “Yeah, God made water come out of a rock – but can God provide bread and meat for us? Can he fill our bellies? Can he satisfy us?”
God’s anger was kindled… because the people had no faith in God – because they doubted God’s providence.
And yet…. And yet…. God opened the skies and manna rained down. Birds came and dwelt in their camps. Their bellies were full. He gave them what they craved.
This idea of God’s providence stays with me today… and not just because I was miraculously woken up in time to make it to a meeting. It stays with me because all around this room are folks who have witnessed the miraculous working of God in their lives.

Each of you has a story to tell about how God provided for you in some time of need.

Many of you have a story to tell about how God guided this church through a difficult time.

This building itself has a story to tell about how God has upheld and sustained the life of this congregation throughout the years.

In the middle of the sanctuary there are those large doors. I have yet to see them fully opened, but I’m told that in times of war – times of scarcity – when we sacrificed our use of energy so that factories could provide for our soldiers… those doors were closed to reduce our heating costs. The simple wonder that someone would create such doors is a reminder that through other people, and not from them, we receive the blessings of God.

All throughout this month, we will be telling the stories of this church. We will be reminding ourselves of God’s active presence in the history of this congregation.

Perhaps it was the Sunday School teacher that sustained your faith in one of those classrooms back there.

Maybe it was church dinner that took place at a time when your family had nothing left to put on the table.

Perhaps it was the words of a pastor who encouraged you during a dark moment.

Maybe you felt God’s blessings through a brother or sister in Christ who got down on their hands and knees and served you.

I hope that today as you came in, each of you were handed a note card. I want to encourage you to take out that note card and to write there on the card a memory of God’s action in your life.

For those of you who can do so – think of a specific moment or a person in the life of this church when God’s presence was know.

And for those of you who might be visiting with us, or are new to our church, or whose memory does not go back that far – share with us some other testimony of how God has worked to sustain you along your journey.

I want us to take a few minutes to fill out these cards, to remember together, how God has provided for us.

The Psalmist asks us to tell the coming generations the glorious deeds of God so that we might teach them to set their hope in God and not forget his works.

I want to urge you to place these note cards in the offering plates this morning. Hand them over go God as a thankful offering for the blessings you have received and in doing so – we will collect these memories and share them with one another at our Celebration of the Past on October 31st.

These memories… these reminders of God’s active presence in our past remind us that God does indeed provide. They remind us that not only does God call us to the table as his children… but that the table is not empty. God has and God will continue to set the table.
What I am asking you to do as a congregation is to join me in awaiting those promises of God.
To take all of these blessings that we have received and to remember them. To remember that God has worked in the past… and therefore – to have faith, to trust, that God will continue to work in the future.

The plate that we put on the table today is a reminder of this foundational promise.

No longer will we worry, “what will we eat?” or “what will we drink?” We know that God has provided in the past. We trust that God will continue to provide in the future.

We place it here today because we eagerly await the next action of God in our lives. We are prepared for the next blessings that will come. We are putting aside our worry, our stress, our doubt – We come to God and know that God will provide.

Amen and Amen.

Living Among the Dead

Why are you looking for the living among the dead?

Why are you looking for life among places where there is only death?

Why are you looking for light in total darkness?

Why are you looking in all the wrong places?

Those questions all barraged me when I sat down and reflected on our gospel reading. As Luke tells the story, these disciples of Jesus who happened to be of the female persuasion, were heading to the tomb of their Lord. They were bearing spices and oils to anoint and properly lay his body to rest.

They weren’t looking for the living at all. Their light, their life, their hope had died on the cross with Jesus. They were looking for a dead man.

Why are you looking for the living among the dead?

I find that question strange, because they weren’t! These faithful few were coming to the tomb to honor Jesus. They were coming to pay their respects. They were coming because that’s what you do for people you love. It was a duty for them… in the very best sense of the word.

They came to the tomb and they couldn’t even possibly begin to imagine that life, new life, resurrection life was waiting for them.

Two years ago, on Easter Sunday, I shared with all of you one of my favorite stories. It is called “Hope for the Flowers.” And it is about looking for life in all of the wrong places.

In the story, there is a little caterpillar named Stripe and he is looking for something, but he isn’t quite sure what it is. He was happy for a while, but now he is restless… he knows that there is something more out there. One day, he comes across this mound, heap, mountain of other caterpillars. They are all climbing on top of one another, trying to get as high as they possibly can. There are rumors that there is something wonderful at the top of this pile. So Stripe joins in the climb. He is yearning for what is at the top, even though he doesn’t know what it is. And along the way, he makes some terrible, terrible choices. He hurts others. He pushes them out of the way. He has to stop himself from looking in their eyes so he doesn’t feel so bad about what he is doing.

Stripe was looking for life in the midst of the dead. He was looking for life among things that were actually sucking the life right out of him.

The women who went to the tomb had just spent a day and a half weeping and mourning. They felt like all of the hope and light and joy in the world had just been sucked right out of them. And so they went to the tomb to mourn, to weep, to honor, and to say their goodbyes.

And you know what… if those angels hadn’t appeared to ask them a simple question, that is where their lives would have stayed. They would have looked for the dead, found an empty tomb, and gone home in utter despair.

We live our lives that way too often. We look for life among the dead. We seek happiness and wholeness in all of the wrong places. We then we are content with being discontented.

Why are we looking for the living among the dead? Why are we looking for our Lord and Savior among the dead and dying things of this world?

That question keeps coming back to me.

For those women on Easter morning, it was a tomb that they clung so closely to. It was a tomb that kept them from being out in the world where they would find the Risen Christ.

What is it with you?

What are the dead and dying things that you hold on to that keep you from finding the Living One?

For one woman I taught in a bible study, it was her King James Bible. She had been given the bible when she was in third grade and it was the only bible that she had ever owned. She had been told it was the only version of the bible that was acceptable. But you know what? She couldn’t understand what was written in her bible. My friend could only read at the 9th grade level… not to mention the fact that the language used in that translation is so dead and foreign that she couldn’t make any sense of it. She faithfully struggled to read the words in that old Bible of hers, but she couldn’t understand it and so she couldn’t find Jesus in there.

For a colleague of mine, it was his business. For years, he had worked in the corporate world and had purchased his own company. He climbed and climbed to the top, seeking success and power and telling himself that when he got to the top he could enjoy life. But he only found a longing that he couldn’t quite fulfill.

Where is the dead place that you keep looking for new life?

What is it that we as a church are holding on to that keeps us from coming face to face with new and abundant life?

In my two years here, I have heard quite a few answers to that question. We would have new life in our church if only we… This church would grow if … Are we looking in the right places? Are we looking for life – new life – life abundant at all?

If we go back to the story of our sad little caterpillar, Stripe, we find that he is stuck in this endless climb of despair and defeat. But then, one day, he sees something that makes his heart stop. He sees a butterfly. Stripe catches a glimpse, a possibility of something he can’t quite understand and he decides to lay aside this life of climbing, to let go of everything that he thought he knew and he decides to do something very strange. He finds his way to a quiet branch, far away from the piles of caterpillars and he builds himself a cocoon, he dies to the world as he knew it… and on the other side of that cocoon, he finds fullness, new life, as a butterfly.

Stripe was looking for life in the midst of the dead. Until he stopped looking. Until he crawled back out into the world that he was born into and he decided to let go and take a leap of faith and try something new. And new life found him.

This week, I have thought a lot about why we need the resurrection. Why does it matter that there is new life in Jesus? He died for our sins, isn’t that enough?

A friend reminded me that we need the resurrection, we need that glimpse of the butterfly, so that we don’t go back to the tombs, the places of death and hopelessness in our lives and live them over and over and over again.

When those women at the tomb recognized the truth – that their Lord was no longer dead but was alive – JOY flooded their hearts. They couldn’t keep quiet about what they had heard! Their mourning turned into dancing!

When my friend in Bible study realized that the King James bible wasn’t the only one that was available to her… when she picked up a translation that was more appropriate for her reading level – an entire new world of the scriptures opened up for her… she found the living Jesus on the pages of her bible speaking to her, making sense, giving her hope for her life.

When my colleague, went to church one Sunday, he was moved by the Holy Spirit and caught a glimpse of another life that awaited him. He went home and put his business up for sale and he enrolled in seminary.

This morning, I want to invite us to take a courageous leap of faith. I want to invite each of us to come down off of the heaps and mountains that we have been climbing, to come away from the dead and barren places where we have been seeking, and to try something new.

Today, we officially begin a journey towards new life.

Some time ago, Jill Sanders, our Field Outreach Minister invited us to participate in a process called Co-Missioned. It is a two to three year journey where we will discover what God is doing in our midst, we will listen for where God is calling us next, and then we will lay aside our old life as a church and learn to live out God’s will for our community.

Maybe a good way of describing this process is to think a little bit about our caterpillar Stripe. This journey is a lot like climbing up onto a branch and building a cocoon – not knowing what exactly we will look like on the other side.

But we have the faith to do so, because we have already seen butterflies. We have the faith to trust in God and to let go of our baggage and ideas and ways of doing things because we have seen God’s amazing and transforming resurrection power.

The hard part is that it means some things will have to die. Stripe the caterpillar was no more after he entered the cocoon. And we will have to let go of some dead and lifeless things of our own. We may have to set aside age old arguments and grievances. We might have to rip out old carpet – both literally and figuratively. We might say goodbye to old ways of doing things. We might say goodbye to new ways of doing things that just aren’t the right fit for us. We might have to let dried-up attitudes fall by the wayside. We might need to let bad habits of not coming to church regularly or of not using all of our gifts and talents die.

It is scary… but it is also exciting… and I hope you will also hear that we are among good company.

Because as our gospel story continues on for this morning, we find that there are some disciples who have left Jerusalem. They have left behind what was lost and dead and abanadoned and they set out on a road unknown. These disciples know what the next stop on their journey will be, but they aren’t quite sure what awaits them beyond that. But they set out anyways.

And on this journey, on the familiar road of Emmaus – something amazing happens. Out there in the world, and not in some quiet somber graveyard, they find the risen Lord.

He asks them a question.  “What have you been conversing about?” 

So they talk.  And they chat.  And for the life of them, they can’t figure out who this strange man is. But they share with him what they know and what they hoped for and what they are seeking now.

And when they stop for some food, and Christ breaks the bread before them – they realize that they have been traveling with Christ all along.

So let us travel on this journey together.  Let us have conversations and let us tell stories.  And let us break bread together.  Because here at this table, our eyes are opened and we see the living Christ who has been with us all along.

Come on the journey.  Lay aside the past.  Take up the future.  There are butterflies waiting!