Vaccines and General Conference

At the end of last week, I received an email from the Wesleyan Covenant Association about their efforts to vaccinate delegates from Africa, Europe, Eurasia, and the Philippines. The goal is to make it possible for these folks to attend the General Conference currently scheduled for late August 2022. Included in the email is a fundraising appeal for supporting such efforts.

As a director with Global Ministries and a past coordinator for our Imagine No Malaria efforts, I must admit that the question of how we help get folks connected with vaccinations has been an important question on my mind. However, from those experiences, I also know that we cannot look at this question in isolation. Fundamental to any such effort must be an awareness about health equity and disparity.

I think, first, about the timing of my own vaccination here in the United States. With limited availability in the early months of 2021, we prioritized the most vulnerable in our communities. I worked with elderly members of my congregation to navigate the complex online systems for scheduling appointments and arranged rides for access. It was a celebration each time one of them got their jab.

In some of those early months, there were a few times when healthy, younger folks like myself could have made a case for getting a vaccine, but it felt wrong to be taking a shot away from someone who might have been an essential worker or someone with far greater health risks. When my time eventually came, I signed up and took my turn.

This effort, on behalf of some of our United Methodist siblings, puts our central conference delegates in an incredibly awkward position. Do you accept the funds in order to travel, spend a few weeks away from home and your livelihood so that you can get access to a vaccine, simply to attend General Conference, when there are other folks in your local community/family who are likely more vulnerable and at-risk than you?



I have been so proud of our efforts at increasing the strength of health systems all across this globe. It has not been easy work, but it is fruitful and faith-filled work. And the efforts like the Global Ministries Covid-19 Response Fund have done incredible things to provide medical supplies, increase the water, sanitation, and hygiene within vulnerable communities, and focus on education and awareness for Covid-19 prevention and vaccine promotion. One of the key factors here is that everyone in the community is impacted by these efforts. This is not a targeted efforts simply at United Methodists within these communities. As our General Secretary Roland Fernandes said, “no one is safe until everyone is safe.” It is also a reminder that simply vaccinating a delegate when their larger community remains largely unvaccinated does not cause the boost we might imagine. There are layers of mitigation efforts that are important and if we have not focused on other factors, the risk of transmission is still high.

There is also an Advance joining with interfaith partners on equitable distribution of the vaccine around the world through COVAX. The hoarding of vaccines by wealthier countries is contributing to the crisis felt in many parts of the world and efforts at redistribution and funding for places without the same resources is vital. Our own UMC health systems are part of this effort of distribution in many places – although we also must work within the policies of governing bodies.

You can also find support for global vaccination equity coming out of the Global Consultation on Vaccine Equity – brought together by numerous UMC partners and leaders, as well as efforts by the United Methodist College of Bishops to name vaccine access a missional priority.

What we are not doing… and what would not be ethical to do… is to create our own vaccine distribution network and limit who has access. Can you imagine if, for example, in our efforts to stop malaria, we prioritized and distributed bed nets and life-saving medication based upon someone’s role within the global denomination, rather than making sure that every household in a community had access?

What if, early in 2021, we had attempted to hold our General Conference and put funds together to fly delegates (including from the U.S.) to other places? Vaccine tourism was a pretty controversial and widely disparaged move in those early days. What kind of witness would we have shown the wider world if we promoted the health and safety of a small group of delegates over clinic workers and elderly without funds and access?

Do I wish that I could wave a magic wand and solve the problems of equitable distribution of vaccinations? Absolutely.
Am I eager to get to a decision-making gathering for our denomination so we can all move forward? Yup.

But the kind of effort being launched by the WCA and their partners does more harm than good. It creates disparity between delegates and their local communities. It reinforces a colonialist attitude where money and resources from outside the region are being leveraged… not simply so that these delegates might be protected, but so that those providing the resources might themselves benefit. And, the witness it makes to the larger world is that rather than put our funding towards making sure that all are able to get access, we are going to focus on ourselves and those we believe are important.

I want to finish by amplifying some voices from outside of the United States that have similar concerns: The Human Cost of General Conference.

EDIT: I am adding today a statement from the Central Conference bishops rejecting the WCA proposal as a form of colonialism.

Follow The Star: Invitation

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Text: John 1:43-51

This year has begun with chaos, violence, grief, and pain.
And I have to admit that when I sat down to write this sermon, the words just wouldn’t come.
Or rather, I would write and then my anger and frustration would kick in and I’d have to delete what I had typed.
And then I’d sit in sadness for a while.
What, honestly, do we say in times like these.
Can we go on as if everything is normal?

But the more I sat, the more I felt God nudging me to stay in that moment.
To not try to soothe or explain anything with words, but to simply be.
God could see where I was… and God still loved me.
God didn’t need anything else from me.

So today, rather than telling you what this text is all about, I invite you into a space to simply be with God.
To let where you are today, in this moment, to be revealed.
God is inviting you to come into the presence of Christ just as you are.
And ironically? Providentially? God had already given us a text to use.

So, find a comfortable place to sit…
Close your eyes.
Place your feet on the ground or your hands by your side…
Feel the substance, the strength, of the ground or surface beneath them.
Notice the places where your body is connected to whatever is supporting you.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.

In our lesson today, Jesus is calling disciples.
“Follow me,” he says.
He issues an invitation not to everyone, but to individuals.
People with gifts and talents and baggage and stories.
Think about the people you might encounter on a regular basis.
Who among them do you think Jesus would pick out and personally invite to follow him?
What is it about their life that makes them worthy of the invitation?
Is there any among those people you imagine Jesus would not invite?
Notice what that question does in your heart.
There might be people we would exclude… But is there anyone Jesus would exclude?

If Jesus turned to you and said, “Follow me,” how would you respond?
What would you do first?

Our scripture tells us that Philip receives an invitation.
And the first thing he does is to go and find his friend.
He goes to share the good news.
“We’ve found him!” Philip says. “The One we’ve been waiting for!”
Waiting for a long time.
Since the time Moses… and Isaiah…
Centuries of waiting.
And in light of this invitation to respond and participate, Philip’s response to Jesus is outgoing and exuberant.
Without any kind of judgment, think about your own response to God’s invitation.
Do the words outgoing or exuberant describe you?
If not, think about someone who embodies those qualities.
What is a gift that someone like Philip brings to the ministry of Christ in the world?

Nathanael also received an invitation to follow Jesus.
Not personally, but through his friend.
And his first response is to ask a question.
“What good can come out of Nazareth?”
After centuries of waiting, he is hopefully, but weary.
Maybe a little jaded or cynical.
Or maybe Nathanael just wants to know more.
Or he is troubled by the certainty that his friend has.
Without any kind of judgment, think about your response to God’s invitation.
Do the words weary or questioning describe you?
If not, think about someone who embodies those qualities.
What is a gift that someone like Nathanael could bring to the ministry of Christ in the world?

Sometimes in our relationships with others, we find ourselves at odds with someone.
They don’t share our joy… or frustration. They ask hard questions. Or push back.
In a world of division, this might feel more common than ever.
What do you do when others react this way?
Are you hurt? Do you give them space? Do you turn away from them? Are you persistent? Do you try to argue your point?
Think about how Philip replies to his friend.
He isn’t put off by the skepticism, he doesn’t push back.
He simply offers another invitation.
“Come and see.”
Think about someone in your life you disagree with. About politics, about covid, about Jesus…
How might you ask them to “come and see”?
To invite them in rather than push them away.

Our scripture today concludes with Nathanael meeting Jesus.
A Jesus who sees him.
A Jesus who knows him.
Inside and out.
Before they ever spoke, Jesus knew his questions and his honesty.
What some people might name as a fault, Jesus sees as a gift.
And when he realizes God knows him so intimately…
That God loves him…
And welcomes him…
And accepts him…
As he is…
He cries out his profession of faith.
This same Jesus that saw Nathanael sees you.
Knows you.
Whether you are exuberant like Philip…
Or questioning like Nathanael…
Or quiet…
Or angry…
Or grieving…
Or weary…
Whatever you are today, know this.
You are known by God.
You are invited and welcomed by God.
You are a gift of God to this world.
Amen.

Who Is At the Table

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Text: Philemon 1:1-17

On Monday night, our Administrative Council gathered to talk about how we are doing as a church and what we wanted to focus on next year.
One of the questions before us was: How has Covid-19 impacted your ministry?
Of course there were the obvious things… we’re worshipping online, we’ve adapted to challenges, we’ve built new caring connections lists to reach out in love.
But one of the things echoed something I’ve heard a lot about our church.
“Immanuel is like a family – and we miss getting together with our family.”

Our church is like a family.
And maybe not “like family” … we ARE a family.
Not only have we adopted one another as surrogate parents and grandchildren and the like… but we are all children of God.
We join together with Jesus and pray to “Our Father…”
We are brothers and sisters, siblings in Christ.
We are equal and beloved and valued within this family.
Doesn’t that language feel so natural to us today?

However, Carol Ferguson reminds us it was not always so.
Biological family was everything in the ancient world—Jewish and Roman alike. Wealth, occupation, legal status, citizenship—all these flowed directly along family lines. In our Hebrew scriptures, family language is almost always used in technical terms—a biological brother, an ancestral father.

What does this mean for our house/churches?
Well, a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that typically an entire household would convert and become Christian together.
In this time in Roman culture, the family, or familia included everyone in the household.
But not everyone in the family was related by blood.
Some were servants or clients.
Some were slaves.
In the household, the familia, not everyone was equal or beloved or valued.

We get a glimpse of what that meant in the letter from Paul to Philemon.
Philemon and Apphia and Archippus hosted a house/church in their community.
Paul pours upon them lavish praise for their love and faithfulness and partnership in the faith.
Like other households of the time, everyone under their roof would likely have converted as they came to the faith.
Including their slave, Onesimus.

Somehow, although it is not explained, Onesimus came to be with Paul.
Maybe Philemon sent him along, handing him off and discarding him like he might a workhorse.
Maybe Onesimus ran away.
Maybe Paul requested his services.
Whatever might have happened, Paul believes it is time for Onesimus to return to the household of Philemon.

The question is… what will his status be in the household, the family, when he arrives?
Will it be as a slave?
Or will it be as a brother?

You see, there is an important shift that happens in the language of Paul that gets embedded in who we have become as the church.
He starts talking about people of faith with biological family terms.
We heard it last week at the end of Romans – three people are referred to as kin: Junia, Andronicus, and Herodion.
And then you have the mother of Rufus… who is like a mother to Paul.

In this letter, he calls Timothy his brother.
Philemon is his dearly beloved.
He refers to Apphia as his sister.
And then he calls Onesimus his child.

As Carol Fergeson writes:
… when the apostle Paul began to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ, he throws around family terms like its going out of style—everyone is his brother and sister, his mother, his children, he is like a father, we are all family in Christ. Across bloodlines, across geographies, across status, across faiths, across conflicts, Paul fashions all who believe in Jesus as the new chosen family of Christ…
None of these people share a bloodline. They do, however, share a Savior.

I’m reminded of those powerful words that Paul writes in his letter to the Galatians:
You are all God’s children through faith in Christ Jesus… There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Gal 3:26, 28)
In Christ, we are all heirs of the promise.
Children of God.
Brothers and Sisters and Siblings one and all.

Today is World Communion Sunday, a day in which we open our hearts and minds and attention beyond just this local church and pay attention to the entire family of Christ.
A family extends beyond political divides…
beyond borders…
beyond economic status…
beyond race…
All are welcome at the table.

I hear a lot of you today asking why can’t we all just be children in Christ?
Why can’t we erase the labels?
Why can’t we gather around the table without these defining characteristics?

I think Paul named them, because the distinctions matter.
Onesimus was a slave. Philemon was a free citizen.
Their lives were different.

These distinctions of our gender identity, our race, our ethnic background, our socio-economic status…
They inform our experiences.
They tell the story of where we have been and what we value.
They paint the beautiful, diverse tapestry of the great multitude from every tribe and language that will stand before the throne of God in Revelation.

The distinctions don’t keep us from that presence of God.
But Paul specifically names them, because they call to mind disparities that exist in the world, and in the body of Christ itself.
As my classmate and pastor Mika Edmondson writes, “…the problem is not our distinctions; it’s our use of those distinctions to establish sinful disparities.” (https://corechristianity.com/resource-library/articles/why-the-bible-doesnt-teach-us-to-be-colorblind/)

Imagine with me, if you will, what it might have meant to be a part of a house/church, a household, that centered their lives on Christ.
Imagine that you were a slave in this context.
Imagine that you didn’t have a choice about converting.
Imagine that you prayed with this community to a crucified Savior while you yourself had the scars of the whip on your back.
Imagine you were forced to dry the floors after the community had poured the grace-filled waters of baptism upon one another.
Imagine that you stood in the distance and served others, while people read Jesus’ words to the poor and the hungry.

Paul sends Onesimus back to his master’s household.
Under one roof, in Christ, the slave and the free would live once again.
And while I wish Paul had commanded Philemon to release the man from slavery, he doesn’t.
I have to be honest, freeing Onesimus would not have changed his status within the culture at large.
He could never be a citizen… he could only ever be a freed slave.
Slavery would always be attached to his identity.
His social and economic status would not change.
But Paul begs Philemon to welcome Onesimus as more than a slave… as a brother.
To accept him into his home as he might accept Paul himself… as a cherished guest and partner in ministry.

What Paul is telling us in both of these places is that while the distinctions may continue to exist, the sinful disparities within the body of Christ, the family of God, are no longer acceptable.
Paul asks Philemon to accept Onesimus as a brother.
He begs him to consider him as a precious family member, a fellow human being.
As equal, and valued, and beloved.
To consider him as someone who truly matters.

We talk a good talk when it comes to World Communion Sunday.
It feels good to lift up and think about how we are all connected and part of the body of Christ.
But like Philemon and Apphia, the challenge before us is to actually live it out.
You see, there are great disparities that exist in this family.
Not everyone is equal or beloved or valued.
Not every life matters.

This week, I learned that our African-American neighbors are twice as likely to die of the coronavirus that our white neighbors.
When you examine the deaths of children from this virus, 78% of the children who have died are children of color.
78%!
And what you see behind those disparities are a whole host other disparities: unequal access to education and medical care, red-lining in housing, lack of generational wealth and representation in decision making.

And I haven’t even covered global disparities related to access to education and health and the climate crisis and economic opportunity.

It is easy to ignore these disparities when they don’t impact us.
But if this was the reality facing your brother…
If this was the disparity that existed for your mother or your child…
What would you do?

I think about the death of George Floyd and how he cried out to his momma… Paul would remind us… we are all his momma.
I think about the children in ICE detention, seeking a better life… Paul would claim them as his children… our children in Christ.
I think about the men who have been put to death this year by our federal government… five executions in two months after a seventeen year moratorium… Paul would beg us to think of these men as more than criminals, but as our brothers.

You know there is this incredible line in Paul’s letter to Philemon.
Paul writes that if Onesimus harmed you in any way or owes you money, charge it to Paul.
If there were any mistakes in the past.
If there were any laws broken.
If there were any faults in their character.
If you are tempted to turn these people away because you are angry with them.
If you want to discount them because of their sin.
If you don’t think they matter because of something they did that was wrong…
Put it all on me.
They matter.
They are important.
See their humanity.
They are your family.
They are part of this body.
Fight for them.
Love them.
Love them as Christ loved them.

Friends, today as we gather to celebrate World Communion Sunday, it feels kind of like we are going through the motions.
Because we are so broken.
We are so divided.
We do not see the humanity in one another.
Republican or Democrat…
Rich or Poor…
… we throw around those labels like insults.
The labels are not the problem.
How we treat one another is.
Where is the love?
Where is the grace?
Where is the mercy?
Where are all of those things that we have learned right here at this communion table?

Today, Paul is writing to us.
In our homes.
In our relationships.
If you really consider me to be your partner in ministry…
If you really follow Christ…
If you really abide in his love…
Then look at those that you would diminish…
Those you might discount…
Those you think are stupid because of something they posted on social media…
Even those who have harmed you…
See them.
Listen to their story.
Hear what they have to offer.
Consider them to be your brother… your sister… your sibling in Christ.
Pull up a chair at your table and let them know that they matter.
That they matter to you.

Nuts and Bolts

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Text: 1 Corinthians 16:15-21

The first thing I want to say is a thank you to Maggie who read our scripture this morning. She had a really boring passage of scripture with a lot of hard names that we almost NEVER read.
And she did an awesome job.

You know, we almost never read the last chapter of 1st Corinthians.
The rest of the letter helps to encourage and teach and equip the community, but this is just like the p.s. at the end.
Paul shares his travel plans and tells them who else is along for the journey and gives greetings from other house church communities.
As my colleague, Carol Ferguson notes, he never explains what a house church is, because he doesn’t need to.
Worshipping together at home like we are now isn’t new… it was exactly how those early communities gathered to worship God and grow and live out their faith.

Last week, we were first introduced to this idea in the book of Acts, chapter two.
Those very first Pentecost Christians were devoted to a day by day faith.
They met in the temple and learned from the apostles.
They shared meals in homes.
They prayed.
And they shared their resources with one another.

As the story of this community continues in Acts, we see that these Jewish followers of Jesus initially saw being in the temple and gathering in homes as equally important.
But before too long, those shared meals where they broke bread in homes began to change them.
As Ferguson writes:

…they developed an identity too distinct from that of their Jewish neighbors. Eventually, worshipping in the temple didn’t make sense anymore – whether they came to that conclusion naturally or gradually, or whether they were forced out for their new ideas.

These house/churches were exemplified by three qualities that allowed them to thrive.

First, they embodied a spirit of hospitality.
You had leaders and teachers like Paul and Timothy and Apollos who were focused on sharing the good news of Jesus with the world.
But they didn’t have the time to build a sanctuary and leadership in every new place. They would have spread themselves far too thin.
Instead, early converts and wealthier Christians found ways to support the movement by providing spaces for these traveling evangelists.
When someone like Timothy would come into town, that house/church would be the home base for the movement. And when the apostles left, the leader of that household would maintain the community and help it to grow.
The devotion and sharing spirit of the house/church made sure that all in the community were cared for and their needs were met and they had a place to gather and break bread.
In some ways, this is kind of how our circuit ministry in the Methodist church of America operated. The traveling preacher went from location to location, but the local community kept the church alive between visits.
Today, I think about how it isn’t physically possible for me to come and be with all of you where you are. There aren’t enough hours in the day.
But because we are able to bring worship to you in your homes, we have created the ability for the good news of God to be shared in far more places than we would have thought possible.
And some of you have shown that hospitality and opened your homes to a friend to come and worship with you.
Or you have shared our service with others, creating space for their needs to be met in the midst of this difficult time.

Second, they were safe places for people to practice their faith.
We read about persecution in many of these communities throughout the book of Acts… including from by would-be apostle, Paul.
While he was still Saul, Acts 8 tells us about how he began to destroy the church, breathing murderous threats and dragging off people to prison.
One of the strategies was to go underground and hide your community. If you were worshipping at home, how can they tell what was a communion table and what was a dining room table?
So house/churches provided a way for the early community to gather in safety with other like-minded people.
Today, our reasons for seeking safety in our homes might be different, but it is still an important quality of our faith life right now.
We stay home so that the most vulnerable among us might be protected.
Our kitchen tables have become our communion tables.
Our couches have become our pews.
And together, we make sure that we can reduce the harm to our neighbors and keep one another safe.

Finally, house/churches allowed people to claim their faith.
As has been true of people of faith from the beginning, we have always been asked to declare our allegiance to God.
I’m reminded of that line from the book of Joshua.
When he was about to lead the people of Israel into the promised land he put before them a choice.
They could hang on to their traditions of the past and the other gods their ancestors worshipped…
Or, they could cling to the God who brought them up out of Egypt… the one who rescued them and protected them.
“Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve…” he tells them. “But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24: 15)
In the same way, these house churches were one way that early Christians declared they were putting their time, their name, and their property in service of the teaching of Christ. And sometimes, even their lives.
That choice is as much before us today as it was in the days of Paul and Joshua.
As my colleague, Rev. Ferguson reminds us:

Being a worshipping Christian in the last four months has required incredible perseverance, innovation, and energy. Our routines and sanctuaries have been stripped from us by COVID-19, and we have had to dedicate ourselves to intentional worship in a way we rarely have had to before. I know it has not been easy. But I am so proud that, standing firm in the tradition of our ancestors in faith, we marked out holy space in our homes and through our technology to say that we are still Christians. Even when it is hard, we follow the teachings of Christ.

So we’ve talked a little bit about why these house/churches were important and how they embodied hospitality, safety, and faith.

But what were they like?
Well, let’s explore the nuts and bolts of how they worked.

The first thing to note is these house/churches were as different as our houses are now.
Whether you were wealthy or poor, the region you lived in and materials available all had an impact. Rural areas might have hand built mud huts, while Rome would have had structures more like apartments. And like today, the wealthy might have had larger, grander buildings.
Most of the house/churches that we have record of were hosted by households with at least modest means and included space for a number of people to gather, share a meal, and worship.
One such house is in Capernaum and is thought to be the household of Peter… you remember, the place where Jesus heals his mother in law?
This particular house had stone walls with a mud and straw roof and had a square room at the center for gathering.
We have a record of this location, because after Christianity was legalized in the fourth century and had power and financial support, this location was converted from a home to a church.
Later expansions eventually covered the original house, and eventually the basilica itself was destroyed.
More recently, the Catholic Church has preserved this site with a glass floor that allows you to see down into the ruins of the house church below.

Another example we have is from a more wealthy home in Dura Europas, or what is modern-day Syria. While in many ways it was a standard home of the time, it also had a large hall where Christians would have gathered to worship and a baptistery.
The walls are covered with frescoes the depict Jesus as the good shepherd, the Woman at the Well, the empty tomb and more.

We also have evidence of a house church started by Romans in southern Britain.
In what is now known as Lullingstone Roman Villa, you can see how owners plastered over a small household shrine to Roman gods with the Chi-Ro symbol.

Who was part of a house/church?
One thing that is very different from today is who was part of a household.
While we typically think about a home with room for a nuclear family, an ancient household was much larger.
Several generations would be included in a household, including married and unmarried children. Also included would have been any servants or slaves of the owner.
And unlike today, where faith is a more individual decision, households would convert all together. If the head of the household came to know and want to follow Jesus… everyone in the household became Christian.
Our scripture this morning tells us about how the household of Stephanas were the first converts in Achaia. Once their house/church was established, Stephanas and others from the household traveled to Corinth to help encourage and strengthen the community there.
But a house/church included more than just one household of faith.
Anyone was welcome as part of a house/church once they were established in a community. Men and women, poor and rich, slaves and masters all gathered together.

What did they do?
Well, we know that communion and baptism were important rituals that were shared within these homes.
In fact, it was one of the markers that began to separate the Jews who followed Jesus from those who did not.
They also gathered to read scripture, both readings from what we now know as the Old Testament, but also letters from the early Christian apostles.
In this day, those letters, like the one we read today from 1 Corinthians would not have been considered scripture, per se, but they did provide instruction to these believers about how to practice their faith.
The letters were incredibly practical and show us some of the concerns that these communities had about what to eat, which Jewish practices to continue following, and who was welcome at their tables.
Sometimes, these house/churches would host visitors like Paul and Apollos.
They prayed.
They sang.
They had a weekly collection that they would take up to support the ministry of the apostles and those in need.
They argued about what they should do.
They were real churches.
They just met in people’s homes.

And today, we are a real church that is meeting in people’s homes.
Carol Ferguson shared with me the story of a pastor who was chatting with a child in her church on Zoom one Sunday.

The pastor noticed her dress, and said “I think I’ve seen you wear that dress to church.” The girl, maybe four years old, looked confused for a minute. Finally she said “I am wearing it to church. But sometimes I wear it to the other church, too. When we go in the car.”
I love that that little girl will grow up knowing that church isn’t just a place you go, but something you experience. That she will never doubt whether or not God is with her as she eats and plays and studies. That she knows worship matters to her family not just as part of a routine, but as something worth pursuing always—even if it means making a church out of her home.

Thanks be to God that we continue to be a real church, embodying hospitality, safety, and faith, whenever and wherever we gather.

Sermon adapted from: https://carolhferguson.com/2020/07/05/house-church/#more-1534

Day by Day

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Text: Acts 2:42-47

Friday night is game night at my house. 

For years it has been an event where friends and family gather, surrounded by food and laughter and love. 

Everyone brings something to the table… even if it is just a story or a giggle or themselves. 

One of the things that usually happens, however, is that before we are all ready to sit down and eat, one of the kiddos gets a little too eager and sneaks a bite from the food that is laid out. 

That has probably NEVER happened at your house. 

You know, the table is one of my favorite images of the Kingdom of God. 

That huge table where all are welcome, and all are loved.

And the amazing thing about the Christian community born out of the ministry of Jesus is that we are like those kiddos at the dinner table.

We get to sneak a bite…

We get to catch a foretaste of the glorious banquet. 

We get a preview of what awaits us.

That is what the early Christian community was doing in the book of Acts. 

You know, if after worship today, you sat down and spent some time reading just straight through Acts, you’d find it reads a lot like a journal. 

Luke felt called to write down what happens to the disciples after Jesus leaves them.

He carefully documents those early days of ministry, the birth of the church, the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God.

It is his personal witness to the Kingdom of God that was taking root in the world… a Kingdom that wasn’t totally and completely and fully there yet.

But all around there were these glimpses. 

These bites.

These foretastes of everything that God desired for God’s people. 

As Luke begins writing in Acts, he reminds us that he has already written about the ministry of Jesus… but in case we forgot, he gives us a quick recap.

Jesus suffered for us… and died for us… and then by God’s power he showed up again! 

For forty days he hung out with the apostles and taught them about the Kingdom.

It was a Kingdom they had experienced when the hungry were fed and the blind healed and the oppressed set free.

The kingdom was wherever Jesus went. 

Forty days pass after the resurrection and  Jesus takes them out of the city.

They all start to think – this is the moment.  This is it.

Down with Rome.

Down with oppression and disease and death. 

Down with anything that would destroy life.

One of them cries out – Master, is this time?  Are you going to restore the kingdom now?  

They are like those eager kids crowding around the dinner table…

Is it ready?

Is it now?

His answer? 

Not yet.

You’ll know it when it comes. 

And to drive home his point, Christ is lifted up and taken out of their sight.

He leaves us with promises.

The promise that Christ will always be with us.

The promise of the Holy Spirit.

And the promise that just as Jesus came to be with us once, in the new creation, God will come and be with us again.

As the church, we are sandwiched in between these realities. 

We know the truth of Christ’s life and teaching and death and resurrection. 

But at the same time, we wait for the fullness of the Kingdom.

In the meantime, we get these glimpses.

And we long for the time when everything will finally be ready. 

When God will make a home among us. 

When God will dwell with us.

When the heavenly banquet is set and everyone will have a place at the table. 

But how do we live and wait and worship and act during these in-between times?

What are you supposed to do right now as a person of faith?

What is your day by day responsibility?

Some of us thought we knew six months ago.

We had our day to day pattern figured out with worship here at the church on Sunday mornings and Wednesday night supper and various small groups meeting throughout the week.

Every other part of our life was crammed with work and school and kids and grandkids and sports.  But for a whole lot of you, church was important too. 

But then, all of that was thrown out the window.

Every pattern in our lives was disrupted. 

And everything we are doing today is being compared to what we did six months ago.

Including how we practice our faith during these “in-between” times.   

But if we look back through history, we will find that people of faith have answered that question in many different ways. 

And so maybe in these unique circumstances, instead of comparing ourselves to what was familiar, maybe we should look for other examples and figure out how to be the church in a way that is faithful to this moment. 

I keep finding myself going back to those early disciples.

Back to those first Christian communities and how they lived their faith day by day.

We find their experience all throughout the book of Acts and the New Testament epistles.

And what we discover is that church wasn’t a place they went on Sundays. 

Rather, being the church was how they lived their lives every day.

And most of it centered not on going to a place of worship, but creating space in their homes and in their relationships for God to dwell with them.

They clung to those promises of the Kingdom of God…

They took seriously that line of the Lord’s prayer and made room for God’s Kingdom to come on earth as it was in heaven. 

And they decided to live every single day as if they were already gathered at the heavenly banquet.

Faith for that very first community centered around the table.

Not the altar in the temple, but the kitchen table, the dining room table…   

That place where their family and their friends and their neighbors gathered. 

Luke describes their fellowship in Acts 2:42-47. 

Twice in this passage, they talk about the common meal.

About breaking bread.

About sharing food with gladness and simplicity. 

Church happened every day in their homes. 

And it wasn’t just those first three thousand converts. 

This is the primary way that the early Christian communities survived and expanded and grew for the first decades of our tradition.

Everything is happening in our homes right now.

If you are in one of our many senior-living communities, you aren’t allowed to leave home! 

You are working from home.

Many of our kiddos are going to school from home, at least part time.

We are eating at home.

And I have seen all of the photos being shared of how you have created space for these things.

You are utilizing technology to connect with people outside or chatting through windows and open doorways.   

The desk area set up so you can get work done.

The nook you created for your child to focus and learn.

The way the dining room table was cleared off because you finally have people at home at the same time to eat once again. 

Why not create space in our homes for church as well? 

In that place that we live and breathe and work and learn and play and love and laugh…

Why shouldn’t that also be a place where we make room for God to dwell?

Over the next few weeks, we’ll be taking a more in-depth look at these very first house/churches of the Christian tradition.

We’ll explore how they worked and what it meant for the people who hosted them.

Throughout it all, we’ll try to discover some lessons for how our faith can not just survive covid-times, but thrive. 

And each morning, we are going to send out and post a devotion with a very simple activity that will help you and your family create space in your home for the Kingdom of God to be made real. 

You know, faith was not complicated for these folks.

In fact it was very simple. 

They had experienced the Kingdom of God and they committed themselves to live in that reality until it was fully present. 

And to do so, that first community of three thousand people devoted themselves every day to four things.  We read about it in Acts 2:42-47:

  1. The teaching of the apostles
  2. Sharing life together
  3. Breaking bread around the table
  4. and prayer. 

You know…

If you put those in a slightly different order, it kind of sounds like the four parts of our discipleship pathway here at Immanuel.

We, too, believe that we should pray and praise and worship God… and we’ve been creating ways for you to make prayer a daily part of your life with our daily devotions. 

We, too, believe that we should gather together to connect and break bread and laugh… and the caring connections groups that were sent out and our virtual coffee time on Zoom all help us to do so.

We, too, believe that we should grow in our faith by learning and studying the scripture… and you can join in one of our weekly online bible studies or small groups that are starting up. 

We, too, believe that we should pool together our resources, going out in the world to serve and share what we have with those in need… and from the masks you create or the sandwiches you put together at home for CFUM or the time you spend with Joppa… these are all ways that we are pulling together to serve others. 

Our church is not just surviving this pandemic… we are thriving in the midst of it.

But I also know that some of us as individuals are struggling with it all. 

The Barna Institute has discovered that one in three practicing Christians – 32% – have stopped attending church virtually during the pandemic. 

The novelty of virtual worship and life has worn off. 

Some of the other demands on our time have picked back up. 

It maybe has felt easier to check out.

I think that is why looking back on these early Christian communities is so important.

Over these next few weeks we are going to remember that it has always been easier to check out. 

There have always been other demands on our lives.

But if we have the ability to taste and touch and experience the Kingdom of God right here and right now, shouldn’t we make every effort to do so? 

Shouldn’t we work to create space in our day by day lives for the presence of God to be known?

Shouldn’t we tap into the joy and the life and the blessings that we discover when we join with other people of faith to break bread and to learn and to share and to pray? 

In spite of the threat of persecution, these early Christians devoted themselves, every day, to grabbing a hold of that foretaste of the Kingdom. 

And in these times of division and conflict and stress and fear… I think that might be exactly what we need to keep going….

We need to pull up a seat at the table…

And taste and see and know that the promises of God are real…

And they are here…

Right where you are… wherever you are. 

Thanks be to God.  Amen. 

Do you love me?

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Text: John 14:15-21

If you love me, you will keep my commandments.

If you LOVE me,  you will keep my commandments.

Do you love God?  Do you love Jesus? My heart wants to say, YES!, I do!  Of course I do! 

I love God with all my heart, mind, soul, and strength!  Don’t I?  Do I? Do you?

If you love me, Jesus says, you will keep my commandments. 

I think all of us are really trying to love Jesus, but if we are honest with him… and with ourselves… we are probably not keeping them, obeying them, living them as well as we should.

Maybe we should back up a step. What commandment? 

Well, this passage comes from the gospel of John and just a chapter before, Jesus sits down the disciples and shares with them this last meal and he tells them:“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.  By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”  (John 13:34-35)

So…. If we love Jesus, then we have to love each other.    And love each other in the way that Jesus loved us.  I think we’ve been doing a pretty good job of that during this pandemic.  You’ve been making phone calls and sending cards and checking in on each other.  We’re making masks and picking up groceries and trying extra hard to be nice to the people we live with.  We’ve taken care of each other as the church.  And that’s a good thing. 

But I also remember that John’s gospel is just one version of this commandment.  In Matthew, Mark, and Luke’s gospels,  Jesus tells us about the greatest commandment.  A lawyer or a scribe comes up and wants to test him, so he asks what commandment in all of the scripture is the most important.  What one law would sum up all the others?  And there, we get some version of that phrase we know quite well:  “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27, CEB)

This is where it gets a little harder.  You see, our call isn’t just to love others in the church.  Not just to love the people like us who do the same things as us. But to love our neighbors. Strangers. People we disagree with. Folks we can’t stand. Even when it is hard. Even when it is uncomfortable. Even when it puts our own freedom or lives on the line. Because that is how Jesus loved us. 

These last few weeks, we have been exploring some of the resurrection stories of Jesus.  Two weeks ago, we remembered how six of the disciples got in a boat to go fishing and Jesus showed up for the third time.    When they dragged their catch to shore, there he was, waiting, with breakfast cooking on an open flame.  But there is more to that story. 

You see, after they eat, Jesus turns to Peter and asks him a simple question:  “do you love me more than these?”  Peter is a bit taken aback.  He sputters out a response:  “Yes, you know I love you.”

“Feed my lambs.” 

It’s almost as if Jesus is pointing back to that conversation they had before his arrest… If you love me, keep my commandments. If you love me, take care of each other. If you love me, love your neighbor as yourself. 

And it happens not once, not twice, but three times Jesus asks Simon Peter this question: “Do you love me?” And those three times are important.  Because you see, three times, Peter turned his back on Jesus.  Three times, Peter denied that he knew him. Three times, Peter chose to put himself before Jesus, before others.

Did Jesus turn away or cut him off? No…  Jesus look at this imperfect, selfish, human being who finds it hard to keep his commandments… and keeps giving him another chance. Gave him the opportunity to redeem himself.  A do-over.

We started out today thinking about whether or not we love God. Whether or not we are keeping the commandments. Whether or not we are loving others as much as ourselves. And we have fallen short. We haven’t always put that love into action. We’ve been selfish. We are human. And God keeps reaching out to us.

Today, you have a chance to show you love God by keeping his commandments.  Whatever happened yesterday is in the past and if you offer it up to God it is forgiven and wiped clean.  TODAY you can love God with your whole self by loving your neighbor as yourself. EVERY DAY you get a chance to start anew. 

You know, here at Immanuel, when we talk about what it means to follow Jesus, what it means to be a disciple, we like to use three little words. Love, Service, and Prayer. In a way, it’s kind of how we sum up that great commandment. In everything we do, we try to make love, service, and prayer part of it.  At the food pantry…. At Wednesday night supper… In small groups… In music rehearsals…In our interactions at school or work… Everywhere we go and in everything we do. 

Today, we are marking the closing of another year of school at that means we have some high school seniors who are graduating. And one of the things about these young people is they get it. 

They know who God is and they each, in their own way, are out there loving others and serving their neighbors, and prayer is an important part of who they are.  And some of that is because they have amazing parents who have helped them to grow in their faith. But another part of that is because of you, the church. You’ve lived out what Jesus commands us in John. 

[image of kindergarten bibles for Peter, David, Laurel, Ana, Rachel]

From the time they were knee high, you have been part of their lives, helping them to love, showing them how to serve, joining them in prayer.  So thank you, for being a part of their journey…

Behind Closed Doors

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Text:  John 20:18-20

Almost every Easter, we focus on the tomb.

We focus on the women.

We spend all of our time and attention on that glorious moment when they discover the tomb is empty and Jesus is alive and they have a story to tell.

But this morning, I want to focus on the rest of the disciples.

As my friend, Rev. Allison Lanza, reminded me a few weeks ago, the rest of the disciples were not at the tomb. 

They were not in the garden.

They were not taking risks and bringing oils to honor the body of their Lord.

As Rev. Lanza wrote,

“On the very first Easter the disciples were locked in their house.  It was dangerous for them to come out… They were living in a time of such despair and such fear.  If they left their homes their lives and the lives of their loved ones might be at risk.”

Only a few of us are able to gather here at this empty church to lead worship for this morning… just like only a few ever gathered to witness the empty tomb.

The rest of the disciples… the rest of the church… the rest of the faithful…

Well, you are home.

You are home where you are safe.

You are home where you are doing everything you can to protect your loved ones.

You are home because it is dangerous not just for ourselves, but for our vulnerable neighbors as well, to go out.

It is not irrational fear keeping you home… but very real concerns and worries and sensible measures that we need to take to care for one another.

This year, we may not be dressed up in fancy clothes and crowding into the pews.

One of our biggest disappointments might be missing out on that beautiful and delicious Easter Breakfast put on by VIM. 

We aren’t watching the kiddos squeal and run past each other finding eggs and crashing after eating all the candy.

But maybe what we are experiencing this year is a glimpse into what that very first Easter was like for those who followed Jesus.

It wasn’t about candy or food or clothes.

It was a group of people who were grieving and lonely and scared.

They were heartbroken and frustrated.

Everything they had planned and all of the possibility vanished on the cross.

They were desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.

We don’t have to imagine what that was like.

We are living it.

We have loved ones who have tested positive for Covid-19 and you are worried about them and unable to go visit.

We are longing for connection and know you shouldn’t risk it.

We are grieving people in our lives that we have lost but have been unable to go and properly mourn.

All of the plans that we had for this spring… concerts, games, graduation, weddings… heck, even simply barbeques or camping trips or playdates…

In the blink of an eye it was gone.

Postponed indefinitely.

We are desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.

I have to be honest… somewhere early in the midst of this crisis, I suggested that we postpone Easter.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around Easter with the church filled up with people.

I couldn’t imagine laughing and singing and praising God and shouting CHRIST IS RISEN… without having all of you shouting it back to me.

And Easter is technically a moving holiday… we celebrate it on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox… which is another way of saying, it doesn’t matter what day it is.

So I got this idea that we should just wait and sit in Lent for a little while longer and postpone Easter until that Sunday when all of us could gather and hug and sing and shout and stuff our faces with food. 

But then I realized… this was not going to be a delay of a week or two. 

And maybe more than ever we need a glimmer of hope.

We need a hint of good news.

We need to see that ray of possibility.

Easter wasn’t cancelled or postponed or forgotten because the disciples were huddled together, shut behind locked doors, closed off to the world.

Easter wasn’t limited to the few people who were able to gather at the empty church… I mean tomb… on that morning. 

Easter wasn’t simply a rumor or a story told by others.

And you know what, that first Easter wasn’t even something the disciples had to risk their own lives to go out and experience.

No, John tells us in his gospel account that even there amid the apprehension and uncertainty and fear, the miracle of Easter showed up.

The resurrected Jesus somehow slipped passed those dead bolts and latches and stood among them.

Right where they were.

In the safety of their homes.

God-with-us… Immanuel.

On Easter Sunday, there were a few who were called to go out and proclaim the story.

In some ways,  I resonate with Mary, tasked with bringing the news from the empty tomb to share it with all of you.

But not everyone could.

Not everyone was safe.

Easter was for them, too.

I don’t know what your Easter will be like this year, but here is one thing for which I am certain.

God is with you. 

The Lord of Life is with you.

The Hope of the World is in your midst.

And when he showed up with those first disciples in their homes, the first words he uttered acknowledge their… our… difficult reality.

“Peace be with you.”

He didn’t scold them.

He didn’t open the doors and push them out into the world.

Jesus offers a word of reassurance.

He simply offers peace.

Peace unlike any else that the world gives.

A breath of the spirit that reminded them of the words spoken just days earlier as they gathered around the table in the upper room. 

“do not Let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27 NRSV)

“In the world you have distress.  But be encouraged!  I have conquered the world.” (John 16:33 CEB)

We sometimes think about peace as a calm.

Or as the absence of war.

But the Hebrew use of peace was an all-encompassing word of complete and total well-being.

It meant salvation.

It meant being “uninjured and safe, whole and sound.” [1]

Jesus stands in their midst, wounds still visible, and yet he reassures them that all is whole and well and that his earthly work among them is complete.

Jesus is our peace.

He is our shalom.

Through him, we are restored to God…

We are restored to one another…

And we are sent forth to restore the world…

My prayer for you, today, is that that same peace would show up in your homes.

That the Easter blessing of peace might find you wherever you are.

I pray that in spite of everything, you might be able to breathe in that gift of peace. 

The apostle Paul knew a little something about being under house arrest, imprisoned, unable to go out and visit and care for those whom he had grown to love.

But even in a prison cell, the peace of Christ was with him. 

And so his words to the people of Philippi, I share now with you.

Rejoice[c] in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.[d] Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Wherever you are this morning, friends, let that Easter gift of blessed peace fill your lives. Amen. 


[1] https://www.efca.org/blog/sunday-resurrection

An Act of Holiness

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Text: selected verses from John 13

Never before in my life have I thought so much about washing my hands… how about you?

I mean, I washed my hands before… and I hope you did, too…

But never before did I see it as such a holy and important act.

A life saving act.

In the midst of this pandemic, washing our hands so frequently is flattening the curve.

It is giving our health care workers a fighting chance.

It is protecting the vulnerable in our midst.

Never before in our lifetimes was hand-washing such an act of service to our neighbors.

An act of service and humility and love just like Jesus shared with the disciples when he got down on his knees and washed their feet.

In the midst of Peter’s protest, he reminded them that this is not just an act of hygiene… not just something that he was doing to make them clean…

It was an act of holiness.

It was a means of grace.

It was a sign of love.

So tonight, gather at your table and to eat your supper and think about our call to love…

But before you do that.

Before you eat.

Take a moment and wash your hands.

If you are gathered with your family, crowd together around the sink and wash each other’s hands.

And as you wash your hands, think not just of hygiene.

Think not just of scrubbing germs away.

But remember that this is a holy act.

An act of love and service and humility and grace.