Spirit of Surrender

In today’s scripture from the book of Acts, we are told of the precarious balance upon which the body of Christ rests.  Twice now, we have heard passages that tell us the believers sold everything they had and made sure there were no needs in their community.  Twice now, we have been told of their love and faithfulness and how everyone who joined this community of Christ was full of prayer and devotion.  We look through rose-colored glasses at the life of the early Christian community and wonder why we can’t have that kind of church, too.

But things were not as rosy as they seemed.

Living in community is dangerous business. A community that cares for the needs of others is a community where people can share their needs without being embarrassed with them.  A community that heals the sick is a community where people are not afraid to speak the truth about their own disease.  A community that prophetically stands with the underdog is a community where people sacrificially put their own lives on the line for the lives of others. 

When we hesitate, when we pull back, we do so because there are great risks involved in being vulnerable, open and honest in community.  We might have to take off our fake plastered on smiles and tell the truth about the problems in our lives.  We are afraid of our own tears, afraid of our own weakness, afraid that the community around us will turn their backs if they really knew what was going on.

Earlier this spring, we were just starting worship, when my grandmother walked in the door and sat down right over there.  The grandmother I no longer visit.  The grandmother who my parents are engaged in a legal struggle with.  And I couldn’t look her in the eye during worship.  I knew if I looked over at her, I would start to cry.  I knew I would lose it.  I avoided that third of the room the entire service, until it came to the time when in this particular service, because of my planning and God’s sense of humor, people came forward for a time of prayer.  There she was, standing right in front of me.  The tears started to roll, and for a minute I was a blubbering mess, but thankfully was able to pull myself together so that we could keep going and finish our service. 

I share that because I know how hard it is to bring our full selves into community.  I know what it means to hold back and not tell the full story.  I know how scary it is to be vulnerable in front of other Christians.  I know what it means to have the heart of Ananias and Sapphira.

In Acts chapter 5, we find the story of this couple who just couldn’t surrender it all to God.  They were inspired by the acts of sacrificial love and community we have been talking about for weeks… a community that shared everything in common without worrying about what belonged to whom – AND inspired by a man named Barnabas who sold a plot of land and laid the proceeds at the feet of the disciples. 

Our verses this morning are a continuation of that story, because immediately following his sacrificial act, Ananias and Sapphira decide to do the same… sort of.  They, too, sell a plot of land and bring the proceeds from the sale to the disciples… except they lie about how much they sold it for and keep some of it back for themselves. 

In the midst of a community where all are of one heart and mind… in the midst of a community where everyone cares for everyone else and no one has need… in the midst of a community – united by the Holy Spirit – where no one says “that’s mine, you can’t have it,” Ananias and Sapphira hold back.  They embezzle money from the sale and hide it for themselves. They in essence, reject the community, reject the Holy Spirit, and seek to provide for their own welfare.

Ananias and Sapphira were telling the church – it’s nice what ya’ll are doing, and we want to help, but we’re not going to become beholden to you.  We’re going to stand over here on the sidelines and get praise for our giving but we sure as hell are not going to let you take care of us. We can take care of ourselves just fine, thank you very much.

The body of Christ requires every person… every member… to fully participate.  None of us is more important than another.  Each of us has something someone else needs and each of us has something that we need to receive from this body.  An eye can’t see without a brain to process the information.  A hand can’t reach out to help without an arm to support and extend.  A stomach is pretty worthless without a mouth to bring it food.

For our physical bodies to work, we need to have interdependent systems.  Each one giving and receiving. Each one playing its part in the whole. 

And for this body of Christ to work, we, too, require interdependence.  We can’t hold back.  We need to not only do our part and give, but also allow others to do theirs.  If we are sick, we need to say something so that those with the gift of healing can pray for us.  If we are in need, we need to bring that to the body so that those with the gift of generosity can support us.  The Holy Spirit has formed this unique body of Christ so that among us we might not only be of one heart and mind, but through us no one has to be alone or in need.

And that “no one” includes us.

I used to think that the greatest sin of Ananias and Sapphira was the fact that they lied to God and the community about how much money they had sold their land for. 

But the more I put this story into the context of this community of believers who relied upon a spirit of trust and vulnerability and risk in order to be united, I realized that their sin wasn’t so much that they lied, or stole the money, but that they held back. 

We are asked to love God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength.  We are to become “living sacrifices.”  Jesus Christ died for us and he wants our whole selves in return. 

And here come two people who want to be a part of the community and want to walk with Jesus, but who don’t want to dive all the way in.  They pretend that they do – they want the prestige, they want to be a part of this awesome new movement, but they just are not ready to commit ALL THE WAY. 

And you know what is really sad – they don’t have to.  They could simply have said that.  They could have been up front with Peter and said “Hey, we want to support the church and see what you guys are doing and maybe someday we’ll be at the point where we can do what Barnabas has done and really place ourselves in community.” 

Peter even reminds Ananias that the land was his to do with as he pleased and he didn’t have to sell it and he didn’t have to give it to the church… but when they did so, and when they lied and pretended to really surrender themselves, when they hid who they were, they were actually putting the whole community in danger. They were acting directly against the Holy Spirit and the unity it brought to the church.

Living just a few miles away from the Amana Colonies, we are aware that communal living is tough.  To really trust and rely upon one another, to throw in your lot with others, is not easy.  Those kinds of communities do not last for a long time precisely because the temptation to hold back, the temptation to disrupt the tenuous balance of community is so strong. 

In their act of holding back, of refusing to fully give in, in their lack of surrender… Ananias and Sapphira let a Spirit of Discord into the body of Christ.  They denied the unity and power of the Holy Spirit.  They said with their actions, “it’s okay God, I’ll take care of myself.”

And God’s response… well – this is the difficult part of the story.  First, Ananias and the Sapphira fall dead.

I find this so troubling because I sometimes hold back, too.

We don’t always let God have our hearts and minds and soul.  We are timid with our faith.  We surrender some… but not all.

This passage makes me uncomfortable, because I realize that I’m really no different than Ananias and Sapphira… what on earth prevents God for striking me dead, right here and right now for holding back, myself?

Rev. Mark Vergruggen asks the question: ” So why aren’t we punished with a death sentence? The short answer is the grace of God. Psalm 103:10 says that the Lord “does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.” That’s grace. Grace is not something we can demand from the Lord. It’s not something we can earn.

What we learn in the story of Ananias and Sapphira is that we still worship a holy, awesome, and fearful Lord.  In a world full of grace, we do not simply have a free pass to act however we want.  God is still righteous and just and has every right to punish sinners by death or other means. 

We are tempted to simply believe that grace covers all and to run through this life as if our actions do not matter.  We are tempted to rest in the love of God and not consider what the consequences of our sin might be.  And yet those consequences are real.  Other people are really hurt in the process… communities and families can be destroyed… and when we deliberately sin, we are saying to God – I don’t want you or need you… I can do this myself. 

Sin is turning our backs to God.  Christ demands all and we give some.  We hold back and don’t fully let the Holy Spirit build up this Body of Christ.  We refuse to surrender and therefore we deny the power of the Holy Spirit to transform our hearts, this church, and the world around us. 

We might not be struck dead here in this place at this moment, but what do we stop from growing and living and thriving by our blatant denial of the Holy Spirit?

This path of Christian faith is not easy.  While the book of Acts has begun with all sorts of joyous accounts of healing and transformation and triumph over the powers of evil, these passages remind us that discipleship is hard.  It is a warning to those who are considering this faith:  think twice.  Think about the price you are being called to pay.  Think about what is being demanded of you.  But also think about the joy and the possibility and the abundant life that awaits if you are willing to let go of what you think you need to embrace what God knows you need. 

Christ wants to build a church in our midst… a community of people who depend on one another but most importantly who depend on God.  Are you willing to let go?  Are you willing to dive in?  Are you willing to let the Holy Spirit transform us into the body of Christ?  Or are you going to hold back?

Feasting, not fasting…

Mark’s gospel is known for its haste. Jesus is here and then there and everything is so urgent and busy. We spent four weeks in Epiphany just in chapter one because everything happens in such a short span of time. Life is all crammed in and there is no time for details.

That could also describe my entry into the Lenten season. In a whirlwind of activity and meetings and work and hospital visits and writing, there wasn’t time to breathe! I think on Ash Wednesday I actually might have had two pots of coffee just to get me through. Go, go, go. Rush, rush, rush.

But then, we got to worship. Everything was finally set and we were sharing in familiar liturgy, age old hymns, quiet moments of reflection and confession and challenge.

We had 27 people in worship that evening… And while that might not sound like a lot, it was double what we had any other year I’ve been around. As people began to trickle in, as they came forward and I placed those ashes on each of their foreheads, as we broke the bread and shared the cup, it felt like home. A family gathered to remember we are human. A family gathered to say that we were sorry. A family gathered to start putting our lives back together… Together.

We always have a meal after Wednesday worship and before youth group starts, so we told folks to bring a dish to share. We feasted together on Ash Wednesday, and it never felt more right. Marked with the ashes, we knew we were mortal. We knew we had fallen short. But we also couldn’t stay there because the good news of God was also our story that night.

I sat with a couple who ocasionally attend our church – when they aren’t off being caregivers for aging parents. We shared stories. We talked about our hopes for the young people all around us. And they shared with me that even in these last few months, something is happening in our church. God is moving and the excitement and eagerness is building.

I learned two things last night.

1) all that rushing and moving was worth it. There is urgency in what we are doing because it is important and there is not a moment to waste

2) but we also have to stop and remember why. We have to slow our hearts and really listen.

Ash Wednesday has always had such a somber and holy and serious personality in my practice and theology. It was a day of darkness and despair, wailing and pleading.

But last night, when I stopped to look at all of us gathered around those tables in fellowship, I realized just how joyous Lent can be.

We trust in a God who brings light out of darkness, life out of death, strengh from weakness. I know, liturgically we have a few weeks to sit in our repentance… But God is good… All the time.

So pass the pie, and the baked beans, and the pistacio salad… Happy Lent!

Facebook parenting = 21st century coffee klatch

Whenever we went back to my grandma and grandpa’s house for holidays, the family gathered together in the living room and we told stories.  Or rather, as the babe in the room I listened to stories, while my aunts and uncles and my mom told about the adventures and misadventures they found themselves in growing up.
Many times, their stories ended like this:  “We thought we would get away with it, but by the time we got home, mom had already heard the news from her coffee klatch.”
Stay-at-home moms gathered together for coffee and swapped stories about parenting, shared news, offered encouragement, and yes, told their own stories.  They shared when there was a problem.  And all of your friends’ moms knew your business.  They were out there looking out for you.  Your mom did have eyes in the back of her head, and they belonged to Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Fields and Mrs. Rodgers down the street.
My parent’s generation grew up and when they became parents, both of them typically worked.  My own family lived out in the country and there wasn’t a neighborhood so to speak of for us to run around in.  Not that my mom would have time to be a part of a klatch anyways.  The closest they got was the parents that hung out together on the sidelines of soccer games and t-ball games and football games.  They became their own little community, but their interaction wasn’t on a daily basis and as children, we didn’t worry so much.
I am not a parent… and watching what kids in the world today deal with I’m not sure I want to be… but as I have watched over my youth and interacted with their parents, I have been intrigued by a new form of community parenting.  Facebook.
As our preteens and teenagers explore the world and interact with eachother, facebook has become an intergenerational site. Moms and dads and grandparents are all online now in ever increasing frequency.  And as our kids post about the dumb things they have done, they now get lectures from all sides.  Even if they are not friends with their parents online, they are with other adults who look out for them and try to push them in positive directions.
I watched with great interest the other day as one youth recounted how he had crashed his moped.  His mom posted something about being more careful and instantly she was backed up by three or four other parents who also were concerned and had their own advice to offer.
For parents who are at work during the day, but have access to the site through their cell phones or computers, Facebook is a way of keeping in touch with their kids wherever  they may be.  They daily talk with other parents.  They stay up to date on what is happening all around them.
Social media sometimes is blamed for increasing depersonalization, but in this little small town, it just might be the coffee klatch of the 21st century.

Loving Your Neighbor…Now

(Community Worship in the Park)

It is so beautiful out, and all of you look so wonderful gathered here in community.

Although it takes some work to get this service together, this community worship in the park is one of my favorite services of the year.

Just look around – these are our friends and family and neighbors and brothers and sisters in Christ!
And getting together like this, without caring about what church we belong to, without worrying about who is welcome and who isn’t… well, this is an awful lot of what I think the holy banquet of God will be like on Resurrection Day.
On that great gettin’ up morning, we will just pull up a chair and find our place around the table.
Soon and very soon, we’ll be in the presence of the King, in the place of no more dying and no more crying.
Heavenly music will ring out, the sounds of violence will cease, tears will be wiped from every face, the wolf will dwell with the lamb, enemies will learn to love, and peace shall be fulfilled.
All of those images take us to the city of God, the new creation, the heaven that awaits us. We read about them in scriptures, we sing about them in hymns, our hearts are full of hopes and dreams about that reality.
And this community gathered to worship our Lord and to share around his table this morning is a glimpse of that future. It is like the taste that you sneak from the pot simmering on the stove an hour before dinner is ready.
As Paul reminds us here in chapter 13… our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is nearly over; the day is almost here.

That heavenly reality is just. Around. The. corner…

So I want you to close your eyes for a moment.

Imagine walking around through the City of God.

How will you greet your neighbors?

How will you treat the people that on earth were your enemies?

Do you hear anger and shouting? Or joy and laughter?

Ae you spending your days trying to get what is yours? Or sharing in the abundant gifts of God?

In everything that we do, here on earth today, we should live and love in anticipation of this reality.

We are called to live as if that Kingdom of God in which Jesus reigns IS the reality we find ourselves in.

As we open our eyes, yes, we find ourselves back in Marengo, Iowa. We find ourselves in the twenty-first century. We find ourselves in a world that is full of anger and violence, a culture that glorifies partying and licentiousness, a society that says “me-first, and screw the rest.”

But that doesn’t mean that we have to join them.

No, as Christians, we are called to a better way.

We are children of God.

And we are called to love.

But what do we mean by love? It is such a commonly used word that it has lost almost all significance for the Christian faith.

When Paul uses the word love here in Romans, he uses the greek word: agape. Agape is completely self-less love. It is love directed towards others. It has no pre-requisites, no conditions. Agape love doesn’t depend upon any loveable qualities the person you are loving possesses. It is love that expects nothing back in return.

Love is not a feeling.

Love is a choice.

Love is an action. Love is what we do… or do not do… to and for other people.

And Paul reminds us that all of those commandments – like don’t commit adultery, and don’t steal, and don’t be jealous of your neighbors possessions – all of them can be summed up with five words: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Love is what we were created to do. All of the law, all of those commands, are just put in place to help us remember – Oh, yeah, I’m supposed to love you.

The big question is… Why? Why should I love my neighbor when he borrowed my lawnmower last month and broke it? Why should I love that person who always cuts me off as I drive to work? Why should I have any love towards people who seek to do harm to me and my loved ones? Why should I love someone who has done damage beyond repair in my life?

It is a good question.

And Paul responds with one word: salvation.

You have been saved.

Which means the Lord of the Universe took one good look at you – with all of your faults and sins and mistakes and imperfections – and said, “I love you anyways.”

That holy, unconditional act of love that we call the cross, was freely given to anyone who would receive it. Whether we deserved it or not.

We love… because he first loved us.

Our love is an outpouring of the love that we ourselves have received in our salvation.

AND… as Paul reminds us, the fulfillment of that salvation is near. The time is coming when the night will end and the day will dawn. This world will pass away and the reign of Christ will come.

That holy, awesome, heavenly reality that we closed our eyes and imagined is just around the corner.

So why would we want to live in darkness? Why would we ever want to sink down to the ways of this world when right now, we can live in the light.

Right now, we can join together with other believers.

Right now, we can sing the heavenly songs.

Right now, we can laugh together instead of bicker.

Right now, we can seek peace with our enemies.

Right now, we can wipe tears from the eyes of the hurting and the grieving.

Right now, we can care for the sick and feed the hungry and clothe the naked.
Right now, we can love.
As The Message translates our final verse for this morning… get out of bed and get dressed! Don’t loiter and linger, waiting until the very last minute. Dress yourselves in Christ, and be up and about!
Right now, put on Jesus Christ.
That means that we spend time each morning in prayer – asking for God to guide us in our actions.
It means that we spend time in the scriptures – seeking wisdom for our daily lives.
It means that we break bread with fellow believers in order to remember the unconditional love of Jesus Christ in our lives.

It means that we don’t just wear a cross or wear a t-shirt that says we are Christian, or wear a bracelet that proclaims our faith – but we actually ask ourselves, “What would Jesus do?” in the situations of our day… and then we do it.

When we put on Christ, when we intentionally “wear” Jesus Christ throughout our day, people can see it.

We become light, shining out in the darkness, reminding people that a new day is coming.

We are the people of God, gathered together in this public place this morning, to proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord and that we want to follow him.

So when you leave this place… will you slip back into the darkness and go back to the ways of this world,
Or will you love your neighbors, like Jesus loved you, and will you be his witness?

disappointing numbers

The numbers game is something that we play a lot in the church.  We want to know how many baptisms and members and monies and ministries were at play in a given year.  We want to see upward trending statistics.  We believe success lies in digits… which supposedly translate into actual lives being transformed… although I am not always convinced that it is the case.

I resist the numbers game.  I don’t let low numbers phase me if actual good solid God work is happening.  Our weekly communion service at the church averages about 7… it is faithful, transformative, worship… and if one week we have only three people there, it doesn’t upset me.  God is going to work through the conversation and interaction those three people have.  God is being worshipped in our music whether there are a few or a few hundred.

At the same time, when the numbers disappoint us and the people don’t show up, sometimes your will to keep going starts to waver a bit.

At our recent graduate breakfast at the church we planned a celebration for the four high school graduates and two college graduates we knew about who were connected to our congregation.  We sent out the invites, we purchased gifts, we decorated the hall and prepared to celebrate.  And only the two college graduates showed up.  1/3 of our guests of honor were in attendance.  And I think that smarted a little bit for the folks who had put in the hard work to make arrangements and honor those students.
I wondered how much that was simply an issue with our church.  Did we not explain it well enough?  Did we get out the information in a timely manner?  Do we smell bad?
But then only a few days later, we had our community baccalaureate service.  Of all of the students who were invited… of all the faculty and staff who recieved invitations… of all the school board members and adnimistrators… we had a grand total of five students participate and a handful of parents, community members and of course, the six pastors of our community.

To have more pastors than students was a little frustrating.  To say we were disappointed is an understatement.

What do you do with those numbers that are so low?

Do you focus your attention on the people that were touched? Yes.

Do you fret about what you cannot change? Of course not.

But what is the next step?  Do you redouble your efforts for the future?  Ignore the numbers and keep forging ahead as usual?  Consider it an anomaly in the statistics? Decide not to do it again?  Cancel it for now until another class, another set of parents, another group of people steps up and tells you it is important?

That is what I don’t know.

It would be a shame to lose this opportunity for community worship and celebration.  It would also be a shame to not mark this moment in our students lives for those who find faith important in their journey.

But if there is not energy and passion behind something, isn’t it okay to let it go for a time?

We’ll see what happens as our community ministerial alliance gets together for future conversations… but at this time, I’m not sure what I would recommend. All I know is that I’m a little disappointed.

How Should We Love?

Last week, we talked about a little place on the southwest side of Jerusalem… does anyone remember what that ugly and awful place was called?

Ghenna!

Ghenna is a trash dump… it is a valley of garbage… it is a place for filth and waste… a place to burn and destroy the refuse of our lives…

And this smelly, disgusting, ugly, awful place is translated in our modern bibles as “hell.”

We spent all of last Sunday talking about ghenna so that we could prepare ourselves for a conversation today. Because that word – ghenna – shows up three times in our passage this morning. One third of all the times Jesus uses the world we now think of as “hell” show up right here.

So let’s dive in, shall we?

And let’s start by getting out the trusty whiteboard and doing some brainstorming…

We are going to assume… although that might be a dangerous thing… let’s assume that none of us wants to live in ghenna – in the garbage dump – in hellish conditions… is it alright if I start with that assumption?

That leads to a question… What kind of a community do you want to live in?

(whiteboard)

Photo by: Jon Wisbey

What makes this community liveable… what makes it desireable… is that love is the center of each of these relationships.

I believe that this ideal is based on what we find right here in our scriptures for this week… it’s based in the summary of the law we find in Deuteronomy and in Matthew… love God with everything that you are and love your neighbor as yourself.

We know, somewhere deep inside of us that this is what we should strive for.

We know, that this is how we were made.

And, we know, that this is where we are headed…

This is the Kingdom of God. Love. Trust. Forgiveness. Honesty. Faithfulness. No more tears, no more pain.

But the question is… how do we get there?

As Jesus walked and talked and lived among us, everything that he did pointed to this reality. As he spoke with people he told them that the Kingdom of heaven was already here… that we have glimpses of this reality… but it is not yet fully here.

And we look around us and know that to be true.

There is death and murder. There is violence and anger. There is lust and revenge and envy everywhere.

It isn’t fully here yet.

I know that.

You know that.

Jesus knew that.

But right here, in this sermon to the people, he refused to let the people off the hook. In this section, Jesus tackles some of the toughest situations we face in our relationships and in the scriptures: murder, adultery, divorce, oaths and promises, revenge…

All of those things that turn this reality into a garbage dump.

In each and every single one of these verses, Jesus challenges us.

Not once does he give us an easy out.

Not once does he justify our actions.

Not once does he say we can ignore the wisdom of earlier days.

No. In every single one of these verses, Jesus takes a simple law and makes it harder.

Don’t just restrain yourself from killing that person… Jesus says – don’t even be mad at them

You’ve been told not to commit adultery, but I say to you – don’t even look at someone who isn’t your spouse with lust.

Divorce has become as simple as writing a letter when the spark has gone – but I say to you unless your spouse has broken the fundamentals of the covenant, and committed adultery, don’t give up on your relationship… and even then give it another try.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Don’t make oaths that are more than just yes and no.

Don’t seek your own revenge but love your enemies, pray for those who seek to destroy you. Turn the other cheek.

And he ends this whole section by saying what I think are the hardest two words in all of scripture: Be perfect.

What?! Be perfect? How do we do that? How can we get there?

There are two main theories about what Jesus is trying to do here.

The first, is that Jesus takes the old testament law and turns it into SUPER law… that to be Christian really requires more morality, more legalism, more demands. To be Christian, you just have to follow all of these new laws, along with the old ones. There certainly are brothers and sisters out there who do just this… who make perfection and holiness and morality the substance of their very being and heap law upon law upon law.

The second main way of understanding these passages is that Jesus makes the law so hard that we can’t live up to it. We can’t do it. All of us have anger in our heart. All of us think our brothers and sisters and idiots sometimes, all of us break promises. This second perspective teaches us that we are utterly helpless when it comes to the law and therefore, we need Jesus to save us from our own downfall. And we all know folks out there, brothers and sisters in Christ who help us to hold our lives up against the law, see our failings, and our guilt and our shame. In this perspective, the law convicts us… but in many ways, the law ceases to matter. As long as we have Jesus to save us, it doesn’t matter if we make mistakes.

I’ve never been a black and white girl. I’m not a fan of either/or choices. So, I want to share with you today a third option… a both/and.

And so what I see happening here in the sermon on the mount is that Jesus is challenging us to be perfect.

He’s telling us we can’t do it, and telling us we need to do it all at the same time.

He’s pointing to this future Kingdom reality and he’s inviting us to live in that reality now.

He knows we are helpless to do it, but he wants us to try.

Jackie has been working with addicts as a part of his new ministry with the CMA. As we talked about these passages in Sunday School last week, he reminded us that the goal of recovery groups is to help you become clean and sober. It is a community of folks who are all seeking the same end goal. Life and life abundant. Perfection. Love.

At the start of the journey, a life of sobriety is almost unimagineable. It isn’t who they are. But they know where they are going. They know who they are seeking to be. And so they try.

Maybe the church needs to be a little bit more like a recovery group. We need to be a group of people, banded together, helping one another get over our addiction to sin and death, and trying to live into this whiteboard reality.

And in order to do so, we have to start letting go of some of the garbage in our lives. We have to throw it out… because in the end, it just won’t do in the Kingdom of God.

Jesus calls us in each of these situations to love. Not mushy gushy love – but real, genuine, difficult, honest love. Love that forgives wrong. Love that seeks peace. Love that refuses to fight back with violence and hatred. Love that is strong enough to overcome.

How do we do that? How is it possible?

Last year, a friend gave me this album and in particular this song – Forgiveness – spoke to me.

I want to share it with you today, because it speaks to the heart of what Jesus asks us to do….

(show video)

Is it easy? No.

Will we get it right on the first try? No.

Are we supposed to try anyways? Yes.

Again, and again and again.

We are supposed to try to live our lives here in the Kingdom… and not out on the garbage dump.

Live into the Kingdom of heaven… where love is our first and not our second impulse.

Where forgiveness is our first and not our second impulse.

Where relationships and not rules determine our actions.

You can go ahead and throw your past and your mistakes and the failings of yesterday on the trash heap. The question is… how do you want to live today? And are you going to let Jesus Christ help you to do it?

the world is my parish

Bishop Trimble recently reminded a group of young clergy that we are not appointed to congregations… we are appointed to communities.

It was something I had not really considered before he made that statement… and it was a refreshing thought.

In many ways, I had assumed that my ministry was both in my church and in the community that surrounds it.  That’s kind of the way my missionally-minded brain works.

But since he spoke them out loud, I have really taken his words to heart and have felt emboldened in the work I do “out there.”

If I’m honest, it might be one of my favorite parts of my job.

Way back when… okay, only three or four years ago… wait… holy crap… seven or eight years ago!… I thought I was called to be a deacon.  I felt that my ministry was as much about being out in the world as it ever was to be in a congregation.  I heard God calling me to be a bridge between the church and the world.  And that is the essence of what I understood the ministry of a deacon to be.

But then this little whisper started to tug at my soul.  It was the sacraments.  The bread and the wine and the water kept speaking to me.  And then they took hold.  My ministry might include the world… but God was also calling me to use the church as the vehicle of my ministry.  God was calling me to break bread as much as he was calling me to break barriers.

Long story short… my journey has come full circle.  I am now an ordained elder with sacramental authority AND I get to work in my community. God had a plan long before I could ever see it or understand it.
I’ve blogged before about my outreach and relationship building through funerals and weddings in the larger community. I have been the main organizer around the community worship in the park for the last two years – an amazing opportunity to share in worship with one another AND to share in the one loaf and the one cup.
What I have not done as well in my first three years of ministry was to get involved actively transforming the community.  But this year, my work with youth got to me.  I realized I had to go deeper to help them.  And somehow I’m now on a school improvement advisory committee and hosting an ongoing conversation about how the community can better support and encourage our youth.
This work is so completely different from what I do on a day to day basis in the church. Much of that difference has to do with having the authority of a pastor.

My ministry in my congregation is ministry “with”  not ministry “for.” I am not someone who throws around my weight… instead I see my role as empowering my people to do ministry themselves.  I would rather work alongside my parishoners than lead them.

But in the community, the role of the pastor takes on a different flavor.  As one youth parent said a couple of weeks ago, “When I go to the school office and talk about a problem, it’s more of the same.  When Pastor Katie says something, they listen.”

To be honest, that authority scares me a little.  But it is also exciting.  God has put me in a place where I can speak on behalf of these parents and I have a powerful voice.  God has put me in a place where I can make connections between people and provide a literal space for those new relationships. God has put me in a place where I have a real and tangible ability to make a difference.

Tonight, our little community group met again.  And while the start of this journey is small and the momentum is slow, I can already sense the possibilities.  I am energized by the true and living hope that God is doing something in Marengo.  And I pray with thanksgiving that I get to be a part of that work.