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?
Posts Tagged with community
Ashes and Lattes
In the middle of a public place, a busy coffee shop, surrounded by strangers… people got real.
We hosted our first ashes to go in the community and while we didn’t have a large turnout, the conversations were deep and holy. I got to know my parishioners better. I heard what brings they joy and where they are struggling. I witnessed the joy and excitement of a family rushing through on their way to school.
People you only have time for quick conversation with in the greeting line after church hung around for a while and visited. It was fascinating to have so much more intimate encounters in a public setting.
In fact, I think the average length of stay at our table was probably 20-30 minutes.
Although, that’s what people do at coffee shops. They talk. They go deep. They open up and become friends.
I’m declaring our first time a qualitative success 🙂 I wonder about the conversations that will come as a result of our few hours of ashes and prayers.
Maybe I'm an ENFP after all #NaBloPoMo
Format Link
Today, I stumbled across an article about the struggles of various personalitites.
25 Struggles Only ENFPs Will Understand | Thought Catalog
http://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2014/09/25-struggles-only-enfps-will-understand/
I feel like I have always wavered between E and I on the Meyers-Briggs scale. I’m on the border but usually lean towards the Extrovert side. So I didn’t feel like I fit in either very well based on the typical descriptions.
There is something to be said about identifying something by what it is not, however. Seeing these struggles typed out before my eyes was like a light bulb.
Especially the pieces about need more alone time and the quality of social interaction that energizes me. I can flit from person to person and table to table at coffee hour, but I’m exhausted when I get home. If I sit down and have a much longer conversation with one group in the midst of everyone, I feel completely different.
The piece about the constant flow of ideas is so true as well. As we switched spaces at the church this last month, the plan changed about 10 times. The final plan came to me in a dream the day before our biggest move. I’m constantly tweaking things and it isn’t right until it’s time to get up and do it. That’s why some of my best sermons were written at 6 am on Sunday morning. It is why my husband gets so frustrated with me as we grocery shop… as I see an item, new possibilities arise and I change what I want to cook for dinner.
For the first time, I feel like I really can embrace my ENFPness
What I am learning as I give up social media for Lent…
#1 – I seek praise, sympathy, solidarity through social media. The smallest, most insignificant thing could happen and my first instinct is to post it so that other people will comment and respond. It is attention-seeking behavior that often slips into a self-centered focus. Having to constantly fight the urge to post has led me to wonder what I’m getting out of those posts… and what others are as well. Sometimes, it is an authentic search for community and others to share the journey with. Sometimes it is race to see who has the biggest sob story or frustration of the day. These past weeks have reminded me of my insignificance. No one really cares what I had for breakfast or about a stubbed toe or that I shared an article. I’m just not that important. And I shouldn’t be.
#2 – Most of my news comes from social media. When I hear of breaking news, I search for the topic on twitter instead of turning on the television. The variety of sources, the mix of images, video, stories, personal reflections, global perspectives is amazing. I just don’t get the same depth of information watching one news channel go on for hours at a time about a single event, and when you flip stations between the networks, the information is often similiar with only slight colors of perspective. As Ukraine and Russian and the Malaysian flight disappearance have made headlines, I have largely been out of the loop of what is happening in the world.
#3 – Many of my conversations with close, personal friends, happen on Facebook. While texting is part of my communications toolbox, I rarely call or email these individuals. I never realized how much I rely upon Facebook groups for keeping in touch with a circle of friends – whether they are colleagues or my girlfriends. I had to write a clause into my lenten discipline that allowed me to continue using the Messenger part of Facebook (which meant I had to download the app), because I realized I would be completely out of the loop on conversations about health, upcoming events, and personal struggles. Not being on facebook and able to follow posts on group pages has left me feeling fairly isolated from those I am most connected with.
#4 – I pray a lot through Facebook. Whether they are shared prayer concerns among colleagues or simply reading the everyday struggle and hopes of friends, family, and colleagues, I am frequently moved to pray as I interact with posts and snoop on people’s lives. Not having that source of prayer material at my fingertips, however, has led me to pay attention a bit more to the people around me… the guy sitting on the park bench, the people in line. I find myself wondering what their story is, what they hope for… I haven’t worked up the courage to ask yet, however. I’m not sure if I’ve always been an “overhearer” of people’s lives or if this is something that a social media culture has developed in me and others around me. And sometimes I wonder if that extension of ourselves into the public space is good or not. I hesitate to lift up a prayer out loud on the bus, but I don’t when I’m commenting on a friend of an acquaintances post. It’s something to ponder.
#5 – I enjoy watching sports with social media. I enjoy the quick stats and the commentary that is often far better than what is on the television. I like the sense of solidarity in amazing plays and in bad calls. Yet, with the Iowa Hawkeyes basketball team being told to stay off of twitter because of the criticisms, I also recognize how brutal it gets out there. The things we yell at the television in the quiet of our own homes now are the things we post online in public in the heat of the moment, without tempering our emotions and remembering it is, after all, just a game.
#6 – I’m following the practice of celebrating Sundays as “little Easters” and not fasting from social media on those days. In the past two weeks, I’ve largely used those days to dump pictures and a quick narrative of the highlights of my week, as well as to quickly skim my group pages, catch up where I can with friends, and have left very few comments. I might have spent a total of 2 hours on facebook between those two days. The time I spend in my typical week on social media must be astounding. I’m sure there is an app somewhere to monitor it, but I’m afraid to look.
#7 – I use Facebook and social media equally for work and for personal matters. Conversations with friends and co-workers happen simultaneously. I’m more aware of that fact as I try to occasionally use it for work-related items (like updating our facebook page for Imagine No Malaria), but the distinction is so blurred that I have tried to avoid it or batch post. I think it would be worth it to do some hard work of creating new lists on facebook to better discriminate what I post and to whom so I could use it for both in a better way.
#8 – this is NOT going to be a permanent fast.
My Book of Resolutions
Resolution 2013.1
WHEREAS, my change in job has caused some stress in my family life
WHEREAS, stability is sometimes more important than flexibility
WHEREAS, I need to remember this job is a marathon, not a sprint
THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED, that I will prayerfully (and with consulatation from my husband) discern my schedule in the future – especially planned time away
LET IT FUTHER BE RESOLVED, that I will ask for help when I need it, delegate where I can, and remember that giving 100% to this work is often about empowering other people to serve as well.
Resolution 2013.2
WHEREAS, being on the road has meant less time for self care
WHEREAS, I need to serve God with mind, soul and BODY
WHEREAS, health requires sleep and exercise and good food.
THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED, that I am giving up fast food.
LET IT BE FURTHER RESOLVED, that I will exercise 4x/week.
Resolution 2013.3
WHEREAS, in extension ministry I am without a church home
WHEREAS, I took opportunities this fall to travel on weekends and rest from the Sunday routine in one particular church
WHEREAS, the discipline kind of requires that I find a church
WHEREAS, it is good for my soul to worship with others on a regular basis and not just sporadically with different folks
THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED, that I will find a church home by the end of January.
Resolution 2013.4
WHEREAS, I have lost my weekly bible study group in Marengo.
WHEREAS, I am not preaching every Sunday and therefore not doing regular textual study, either.
WHEREAS, regular time with the scriptures is good for my mind and my spiritual life.
THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED, that I will have coffee every week with a good friend of mine and the Bible
Words and Deeds
How many of you have facebook?
How many of you have no clue what facebook is?
One of the great things about facebook is that you can connect with people from various parts of your life all at once. And my friends span the spectrum from extreme liberals to die hard conservatives.
I don’t have to watch one second of campaign coverage and I can tell you who was speaking, where and when and what lots of different types of people thought about it.
Today, we find ourselves on the Sunday between our two major political party conventions.
And on facebook and in person, I have seen people laugh and cry, jest and jeer, shout praises and mutter criticisms… folks have been angry or excited and rarely anything in between. Some are accused of lying. Others of ignorance. Some people are called stupid. Wealthy has become a bad word – as has the term poor. We point fingers. We refuse to accept blame. We pass around the buck. And rarely are we making these arguments in logical, coherent, calm conversations.
Politics sure brings out the worst in us… doesn’t it?
Or is it just that politics takes all of those pent up feelings we carry around with us every day and it crystallizes our differences, our frustrations, our anxieties?
I started out by asking about how many of you have facebook, because the nasty behavior I see in politics is an every day occurrence in social media.
But it’s also an everyday occurrence in our school hallways.
And in our bars and restaurants.
And around our dinner tables.
And in our private conversations with other people.
The truth of the matter is… we have forgotten how to talk to one another.
This isn’t simply a secular problem. The same thing is seen in our churches as well.
I had more than my share of church politicking this year, as I had the honor of representing our conference of the UnitedMethodistChurch at our quadrennial global gathering.
One thousand United Methodists from all across the globe gathered in Tampa to make decisions about the future of our church and our mission… and a lot of what we did was stand up and make speeches and refuse to listen… which in turn led to a failure to act. We talked our problems to death and in the end have little to show for it.
Each of our denominations has similar meetings – from session and presbytery meetings, to district events and conferences. And it doesn’t matter if you are Methodist or Nazarene or Congregationalist or answer to a pastor or a pope – we don’t always agree and it isn’t always a pretty conversation.
I wonder if that kind of contentious debate about what it means to “be the church” is what led James to write his letter to the people of God.
I think he looked around at the arguments, and the infighting, and the trials people were going through and he felt called to say something… to refocus our attention on what really matters: the word of God that transforms us all.
The passage that Morrie read for us this morning comes from the first chapter of this letter.
A huge problem James discerns is favoritism and conflict between different classes of people in the church… so he starts out by leveling the playing field: we all have tests and trials.
What separates us, James writes, is that some of us stand firm in our faith in the midst of those trials… and some of us are tossed about with every fad and sea change. It doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor…those who stand firm are the ones who are blessed.
Now – this matters, because James goes on to describe how every good and perfect gift comes from God.
What doesn’t come from God are our own cravings, our desires, the things that we hold on to more tightly than we hold on to God.
I want to do a quick thought experiment with you… think of one thing that you hold onto tightly in your life: maybe it is an addiction… or your schedule…maybe it is a way of doing something in the church… or an everyday object like your cell phone.
Imagine that one thing… that thing that you can’t live without…
Now, ask yourself – and be truthful now – how many times in the past year has that “thing” caused conflict?
How many times did it lead you to yell at someone?
How many times did it cause you to act out of character?
How many times did you miss the opportunity to grow in your faith or your relationships because you were too stubborn to let go of it?
James writes his letter to the people of God because they are so focused on what they want and what they think and what they believe that he no longer sees the true word of God in their midst.
They have deceived themselves into thinking that they had the truth – when all they have done is distort God’s word into something dirty and foul to suit their own needs.
And then… they argued about it. They argued about who was more important and who was right. They argued about who was included and who should be forgotten. They argued about how much time they had to put in and why they didn’t need to get their hands dirty any more.
And in doing so, they exchanged the gift of life and peace and love of God for the cares and desires and sin of this world.
You know what? We have, too.
If we were to be truly honest with ourselves, we encourage our youth to use their fists more than words… and teach them to use words that pack a punch that could hurt the toughest soul.
We teach our children they deserve to have everything without regards to the cost.
We as adults are quick to judge when we encounter someone with different political view points. We make assumptions.
We close our doors to the neediest around us and put a check in the mail to make ourselves feel better.
We spend our days working hard so that we can have the finer things in life and then are too tired to enjoy them.
We use and abuse one another so that we can get ahead.
We ask the question, “how will this help me?” more than “how can I help others?”
No wonder the spirit of discourse around us has crumbled. Internally focused, afraid of one another, distrusting of the systems that are supposed to help and support us, wary about the future….
Those words do not describe a people, a community, a nation that has the saving word of God planted within.
The question is what do we have to clear out so that the good and perfect word of God can take root in our souls again?
James has a few solutions for us.
First of all, we need to recapture a spirit of humility. We need to recognize that we are not God’s gift to this earth – but imperfect vessels that the word of God can transform.
Humility means that we treat the word of God as a gift, and not something that we deserve.
Humility means that we make ourselves low so that others might be raised up.
Humility means that we put another before ourselves.
Humility means that we are quick to truly listen to what another person has to say before we butt in with our own thoughts and feelings.
Second, we need to practice every day the words that we hear at bible study or in prayer group or in worship.
David Lose, who writes for Working Preacher, says: “Sunday is not the most important day of the Christian week.” It is every other day, the in-between days that truly show whether or not that saving word of God is taking root.
James tells us that too often we hear the word of God and do not do it. We listen to the sermon on Sunday morning and then go out and forget everything that we heard.
We need to study the word and put it into practice. On Monday morning, we need to let kindness rule our actions. On Tuesday evening, we need to let God’s patience rule our heart. On Thursday afternoon around the water cooler, we need to let the gift of God’s love rule our conversations. In every small act of every single day, we need to let that heavenly gift of God shine through our lives.
Lastly, we need to be careful about our words.
James calls us to listen… but when we do finally speak, we need to ask whether our words are rooted in anger or in love.
Do the words we use come from the word of God planted within? Or from the desires of our imperfect selves?
Are our conversations pleasing to our Lord? Or are we trying to impress others?
In verse 26 of our passage for this morning, James writes, “If those who claim devotion to God don’t control what they say, they mislead themselves.”
Our words matter. They can be used to hurt or to heal. They can be used to encourage or to tear down. They can be used to expand God’s kingdom or to erect barriers for the Holy Spirit.
We who are gathered here represent the people of God in Marengo, Iowa. And our words and our deeds matter. They represent to the world who God is and how he desires us to live.
In your conversations on facebook and in real life… in your actions towards strangers and your best friends… do people see the good and perfect gift of God in your life?
We often cling so tightly to our stuff, our issues, and our solutions that we can’t open our hands to receive the amazing and beautiful gifts of God.
Let go. Open your hearts and your hands to welcome the word of God. And then live it out in every moment of your days to everyone you meet.
Say yes to compassion. Say yes to forgiveness. Say yes to patience. Say yes to kindness and joy and love and peace. Let them take root in your soul and flourish in your life.
If we do… this world truly will be transformed.
Amen.
Jurisdictional Conference Day 4
Yes, I realize I went from Day 0 to Day 4… so much transpiring with not a whole lot of time to really sit and reflect.
This being my first Jurisdictional conference, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. We had some amazing preaching, reports of shared jurisdictional ministries, elections to General Agencies and jurisdictional committees and in between a whole lot of conversation and community.
My plate just got a little bit fuller as I accepted the nomination to be our conference representative on the General Commission on Communications and I’m on our jurisdictional Rules of Order committee (which might only meet once in the next four years).
I resisted my urges for making snarky comments by keeping a twitter play-by-play of the speeches and sermons. I was so relieved to hear us refocus ourselves around what we can do together and the awesome power of God to renew and recreate instead of threats of “death tsunamis.” God is active and we have nothing to fear. With boldness we are going to radically risk and live into the Kingdom of God… at least, I’m going to!
I got to hang out with my friend Jessica again and I’m glad she is recovering and healing from Tampa.
I connected with other young adults from the jurisdiction and without official funding or organization we are going to plan a NCJ gathering for fellowship and reconnection.
But perhaps the thing I’m taking from jurisdictional conference is the reminder that my plans are not God’s plans and that the connection we serve (and the God we serve) might take us places we do not expect. Our bishops move, our ministries belong to all of us rather than any individual, and what we do together is awesome.
Spirit of Singing Along
The sorcerer and the eunuch.
As we continue to follow the Holy Spirit through the lives of the apostles, we come upon two men who have very different attitudes towards the work of God.
In the course of his ministry, the deacon Philip will encounter many people who hear and believe the good news about Jesus Christ… what is it about the sorcerer and the eunuch that make their stories so special?
I believe it is the contrast between their responses that is so telling.
One arrogant and brash, the other humble and full of questions.
For one, the power of the Holy Spirit is a commodity to be bought and sold, possessed and tamed.
For the other, that power is precious, mysterious, and a gift to be treated delicately.
Like with the story of Mary and Martha, we are given a chance to examine our lives, find where our tendencies lie, and invited to choose a better way.
The first major difference in these two stories is how each of them is introduced to the Holy Spirit.
In the case of the sorcerer, familiar with magic and illusion, the Holy Spirit is seen from a far. Here is a man who has heard the good news of God and joined the fellowship of believers. He has in some ways left behind his old ways, but he still desires to be the center of attention. He still wants to draw a crowd. And so when he sees the apostles laying hands on people so that they could receive the Holy Spirit, he suddenly wants their job.
So he runs over to them and throws down a bag of coins… “I want to do that, too!” he begs. “Give me that authority.”
The sorcerer believes the Holy Spirit is something to be possessed. The sorcerer wants a new bag of tricks for his show.
On the other hand, the eunuch has the Holy Spirit brought to him. We can see how she is working behind the scenes… leading Philip to take a certain road, telling him to walk alongside the cart. She has already been present in the life of this eunuch who is reading the scriptures, hoping to understand them. And so, when he hears the good news, and an oasis of water suddenly appears alongside their desert road, he asks – what would stop me from being baptised too? It is not a demand, it is a humble question of faith.
In our journeys of faith, sometimes we get jealous of what other people have – faith that seems so strong, a prayer life that seems so powerful. We often struggle with what we don’t have.
Maybe you have uttered the phrase, “I wish I could pray like so and so” or “if only we had a choir or a praise band” or “I wish I could read the scriptures like that person.”
There is nothing wrong with wanting to grow in our faith. There is nothing wrong with seeing what other people are doing and seeking God’s guidance about the ways we can live out our faith.
But in the stories of the sorcerer and the eunuch, we are invited to see that it is not what we don’t have that matters…. what matters is what the Holy Spirit has already brought into our lives. We can be so busy looking at what others have and what we desire that we can’t see the gifts right in front of us. One of the things that we will explore later this morning in our workshop is the idea that we don’t have to have a fancy choir in order to be faithful to God… we each have a voice that we can use, we each have a part to play in our time of worship. Just because we don’t have robes and lights and big voices does not mean that there isn’t a song to be sung.
The other major difference between these two characters is what they are hoping to gain through the Holy Spirit.
While the sorcerer had once been the center of attention, he finds that notoriety fading as a new player, the deacon Philip, comes on the scene. Suddenly, it is someone else doing the healing… someone else drawing the crowds… and the sorcerer himself is astonished by the power that the followers of Christ possess.
But as soon as he perceives the source of this power, he wants it for himself. He wants to again be someone that others flock around. He wants to have the magical ability so that he can carry it to some far off place and again be on the stage with people at his feet. Our sorcerer is a performer and faith is a tool, a prop, to get him what he wants. Or maybe its not even quite a cynical as that… Faith is now a part of his life – but he can’t quite give up his old ways and he transforms the faith rather than allowing it to transform him.
Notice, no where did I talk about a community, or a group… faith for the sorcerer was all about himself and what he could use it for.
On the other hand, our eunuch wanted to be included. He wanted to belong. He wanted to be a part of a community that understood.
Our text tells us that this African man was coming from Jerusalem where he had probably spent time in the temple worshipping. And yet, as a eunuch, the fullness of worship would have been closed off to him. He would only have been allowed into the Court of the Gentiles. Gary DeLashmutt writes that because of his social standing as a “sexually altered black man from a pagan country” doors were automatically closed for him. Who knows what his experiences had been in Jerusalem… how many times he had been turned away…
In spite of his standing in the court of the queen of Ethiopia… in spite of his wealth… in spite of all the power he could and did possess, the eunuch knew that he could not buy a place in the family of God. He knew that there were countless barriers in his way, but all he wanted to do was to belong.
In spite of the threat of further rejection, the eunuch persists and when he and Philip come to that small oasis of water by the side of the road, he asks a heartbreaking question: “What would prevent me from being baptized?”
He wants to belong. He wants to join in the fellowship. And he found in Philip a person who, according to DeLashmutt, “understood that his standing with God was based not on his ethnic identity, moral record, religious heritage, etc.—but through Jesus’ death alone… He understood that Jesus loved this eunuch and was able to give him new life just as he did Philip.” So he leads him down to the water and our eunuch is baptized.
Although our story says that he went on his way rejoicing, we do not know the end of his story. We don’t know where he goes or how his life and his faith continue in the story of God. But we know that want he wanted was to belong… and when someone finds true welcome, they in turn want to pass it on.
In the stories of the sorcerer and the eunuch, we find a performer desiring a stage and a person seeking a home. In their contrast, we are reminded that faith through the Holy Spirit is not about me or you, but about us.
Diedrich Bonhoeffer once wrote: “It is not you that sings, it is the church that is singing, and you, as a member… may share in its song. Thus all singing together that is right must serve to widen our spiritual horizon, make us see our little company as a member of the great Christian church on earth, and help us willingly and gladly to join our singing, be it feeble or good, to the song of the church”
Many of you are here because you have already found a spiritual home… you have found a community of people to join your voice to. But at some point in your life, perhaps you, like the eunuch, were searching for a place to belong and a song to sing…
There might not be anything in our text this morning about music, but we have talked about stories and bodies and hopes and dreams and who is welcome and what we want and all of those things have everything to do with singing.
As Colleen will share with us later this morning, music is powerful. It calls us into being as a community. It gives us a common language. Singing takes our whole selves – mind, body, and soul.
Don Saliers, a United Methodist pastor and the Director of Sacred Music at Candler School of theology writes: “through the practice of singing, the dispositions and beliefs expressed in the words of the hymns – gratitude, trust, sadness, joy, hope – had become knit into their bodies, as integral parts of the theology by which they lived.”
When we sing together, we are reminded that faith is about US not about me. When we sing together, we are taught again and again about the faith in our music. When we join our voices together in song, we are telling the world that we belong to God and telling God about this world that we care so deeply about. When we sing together, we are passing on the theology of our mothers and fathers to our children and our grandchildren.
Let us not be sorcerers who want to control and possess the power of God, singing by ourselves – or even worse, letting someone else sing for us while we sit back and watch.. but like the eunuch, let us humbly seek to join our voice with the song of faith that has been sung for so long. Let us celebrate the faith we have found, and like Philip, not be afraid to pass it on.