fear – Salvaged Faith

From Terror to Awe

Posted on December 4, 2022Leave a comment

Text: Luke 1:26-38, Isaiah 11:1-10

This morning, we find ourselves in the second Sunday of Advent… this season of waiting for the coming of Christ.

This Christmas story is so familiar and comfortable, we could curl up in it like a blanket.

We are ready for the heavenly choirs of angels mingling with the smelly shepherds in the field, for the time when wise men led by celestial signs witness the fragility of an infant of a manger.

It is a season of holy anticipation – not for experiences beyond this world – but ones that are embodied in things that we can touch and feel, live and breathe.

We are ready for God to come and be with us!

This morning, we hear again the story of the annunciation – the announcement! – from Luke’s gospel.

The angel Gabriel appears to Mary.

The angel proclaims that Mary is favored in God’s eyes – blessed among all women – for she will bear a child who will be called the Son of God.

Mary asks but one question: How will this happen?

After a brief and yet wholly inadequate explanation, she responds:

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

I first heard this story as a child and so the image seared in my mind of Mary is of a wise and beautiful woman, full of the grace of God, who was ready for whatever came her way.

She always seemed so much older than me, but truth be told, she was probably only sixteen or seventeen years old at the beginning of this story.

This young woman was living in a world of prearranged marriages and had likely been promised to her husband-to-be, Joseph, for many years.

It was a world where a woman’s only education would have been in the home.

It was a world of Jewish faithful living under a Roman occupation, a time of darkness and poverty, disappointment and despair.

And yet, she found the courage to say yes.

Because of the nature of the season, often we hear the annunciation on Sunday, and just a few days or weeks later we have a beautiful, bouncing, baby boy in a manger.

There are so many details we skip over… in part because we don’t know what happened.

The scriptures leave us to fill in the blanks.

Or as AJ Levine reminds us in her book, Light of the World, “Matthew and Luke are not writing for children… nor are they writing newspaper reports striving for historical accuracy. [They] are designed less to ‘record what happened’ than to set the scene: to explain to readers removed from that time and place what the birth of Jesus signifies.” (p. 11-12)

There are truths in this story that are more important than the details.

Truths we have handed down from generation to generation.

Last week, we heard the record of ancestry of Jesus Christ from Matthew’s perspective.

Matthew traces a Jewish history of Jesus from Abraham, to David, through Exile and to the father of Mary.

He shows the arc of the promises of the Jewish story and how Jesus is fulfilling them.

Luke is telling a different sort of story.

In the first verse of our reading for this morning, he notes that an angel appears to a virgin, engaged to Joseph, who was a descendent of David’s house. Her name was Mary.

Her name means Bitter Tears, but it also calls us to remember the “Mary’s” who would have been in her spiritual ancestry… like Miriam, the sister of Moses.

Miriam who rescued her brother from certain death, helped to lead the people out of Egypt, and was later known as a poet and a prophet.

The focus here is not just on the lineage from the house of David.

It is on the woman.

One woman.

And the decision that is before her.

But there is more to this one verse.

We often read it out of context, but this angel, Gabriel, is the same who showed up to announce the birth of John to Zechariah and Elizabeth… we heard a piece of that story earlier in November.

He offers a warm and joyful greeting, but you have to remember, this is not just a friendly neighbor stopping over.

This is an angel of the Lord.

When a messenger of God shows up in scripture, there is always a catch, as Levine describes it.

You are expected to give a response.

Our minds are taken to Abraham leaving behind everything he knows and moving to Canaan, or Moses leaving his quiet shepherd life to confront Pharoah.

When an angel of the Lord shows up, your life changes.

Mary’s response to these words is understandable.

She is filled with confusion and terror.

Everything that she has known in her quiet life in the small, quiet village of Nazareth is about to change.

Who will she become?

Where will she be asked to go?

What will she be asked to leave behind?

We all carry with us fears of the unknown, fears of standing out, fear of loss, fear of failure…

And… she doesn’t even know about the baby yet!

Gabriel sees the fear flicker in her eyes and reassures her even while sharing the news.

“Do not be afraid.”

These words come to us in the scriptures 365 times.

One for every day of the year.

“Do not be afraid.”

Dr. Christine J. Hong writes about how these words don’t actually make us less afraid.

“Every day, people are faced with untold grief and pain, and the gospel, or the good news, is not enough to take that pain and fear away. Hope sounds hollow to those who are enduring the wretched parts of life… courage rises despite our fear, not in its absence.” (A Sanctified Art Sermon Planning Guide)

And I think courage rises out of our fear when we know that we are not alone.

When we can trust that we will be given what we need to move forward.

As the angel Gabriel speaks, “Do not be afraid,” Mary is also given a glimpse of the future that awaits her.

She will have a child.

Not just any child, but the Son of God, who will inherit David’s throne, and reign over an eternal kingdom.

In other words… everything that they have been waiting for will come to pass.

And that can be scary.

And it will take acts of courage in order to bring it into being.

So Mary has a very important question to ask.

“How?”

She isn’t focused on the whole eternal reign of David’s kingdom piece… but wants to know what is going to happen to her own body.

As Wil Gafney notes, “Before Mary said, ‘yes,’ she said, ‘wait a minute, explain this to me.’”

“In a world which did not necessarily recognize her sole ownership of her body… this very young woman had the dignity, courage, and temerity to question a messenger of the Living God about what would happen to her body before giving her consent.”

Gabriel’s answer is less about biology or the mechanics, and more about a spiritual reality.

It is about the presence of God with us.

It is about the action of the Holy Spirit – a core theme in the gospel of Luke.

It is about impossibilities becoming real – evidenced by the pregnancy of her very old cousin, Elizabeth.

It is about a kingdom of oppression being taken over by a kingdom of love.

When we find the word “fear” in our modern translations of scripture, it can come from two very different root words.

Here, in Luke, we find the Greek word, phobos, from which we get the idea of phobias today.

Fear stops us in our tracks, holds us back, and can be destructive.

But we are also told to fear God in other places in scripture.

In Isaiah 11, we are reminded of this shoot growing from the stump of Jesse… a symbol of the heir of David’s Kingdom.

The Spirit of God will rest on him… a spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord and he will delight in fearing the Lord.

The Hebrew word here is, yirah, and it implies a sense of reverence or awe.

I think part of what happens in this moment, and in the angel’s answer to her question is that Mary moves from terror to awe.

She moves from a fear of the unknown to a sense of awe about the impossible becoming possible.

In her memoir, This Here Flesh, Cole Arthur Riley writes, “I believe fear has the holy potential to draw out awe in us. To lead us into deeper patterns of protection and trust. To mold us into people engaged in the unknown, capable of making mystery of it instead of terror.” (p. 86)

As Isaiah tells it, and the hymn “O Come O Come Emmanuel” reminds us, God will come to be with us.

Christine Hong writes – “God’s spirit will intervene, leading to a world of righteousness and peace. Prey will no longer fear their predators. The vulnerable will be protected. All of creation will be filled with the wisdom of God.”

You see, God enters our fears.

God enters our struggle.

God enters our grief and pain.

It doesn’t always go away… but God is with us in the midst of it.

And in that presence, our fear is transformed.

We find the courage to say, “yes.”

We find the ability to say, “Here I am.”

We are given what we need in order to move past our apprehension and accept God’s invitation.

Two thousand some years ago, a young woman, a girl really, said “yes” to God’s invitation – and just look at how the world has changed.

It is how God has always worked.

From the very beginning, ordinary nobodies who hesitantly said “yes” to God were transformed by the spirit of God.

From the nomad Abram, to the murderer Moses, and shepherd boy David.

Each of them, in their own way, said “let it be with me according to your word.”

They opened themselves up to God’s will in their lives, despite their fears.

They answered the call and tried to live obediently.

And God accomplished amazing things through them.

Does that mean it was easy?

Did they suddenly face straight paths with no obstacles?

Of course not.

Mary could not know the course her life would take.

She would have to struggle to protect her child by fleeing to Egypt.

She would live to see her son crucified by the Romans.

Still fearing the unknown, she said, “let it be with me according to your word.”

The Word came and lived among us.

God took on flesh – God worked through human lives, and God’s will was embodied in the small “yeses” of many insignificant people.

And the world was changed.

Each of us have fears in our own hearts.

But God shows up in the midst of those fears and invites us to be transformed.

We find the ability to say yes, because we know the stories of these faithful ancestors who said yes.

But we also find the ability to say yes, because we hold onto beautiful impossibilities and the promises of what God’s love means in our lives.

In the midst of our grief and struggle and of all that is unknown, we know who holds the end of our story.

We stand in awe and reverence of what we know we are working towards:

A world where righteousness and equity reign.

A world where the wolf and the lamb sleep in peace.

A world in which we are led by a little child.

The fears of my heart cannot be quieted by anything I have at my disposal in this world.

But even in those fears, I need the Holy Spirit to do something new in our lives.

To do something new in our community and our world.

It is terrifying to think about what that might mean.

Because God doesn’t want to change the world without us.

And that means letting the Spirit of God dwell in my heart.

Not just on Sunday mornings, but every day, every moment.

Because if I… if you… if we really said yes, then everything would change.

That’s the point, isn’t it?

We don’t say yes because we are afraid of the risks.

We are afraid the path will be hard.

We are afraid to leave behind what we know.

And it will be.

And that is all hard.

But we don’t do it alone.

The angel Gabriel whispered to Mary, “Do not be afraid.”

If we say yes, God will be with us.

If we say yes, God will give us everything we need.

If we say yes, and face our fears, we might just see them transformed into the impossible.

May it be so.

Remember Enough

Posted on October 10, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Exodus 16: 1-18

Friends, over the next several weeks in worship, we are going to talk about how we connect our faith, our life, and our finances.

And while on one very practical level our stewardship time helps our church leaders to set a budget for the coming year, there is a much bigger reason that we take time every year to talk about generosity and stewardship.

Because even if we want to avoid the conversation, Jesus is very interested in what we do with our money and resources.

Your money story is a spiritual story and when we let God into this part of our lives, we find grace and love and transformation and joy.

Let us pray…

“Enough” by John van de Laar

Worry and stress are not hard for us, God,
We do them without thinking:

There is always the potential of threat
To our security,
Our comfort,
Our health,
Our relationships,
Our lives.
And we foolishly think that we could silence the fear
If we just had enough money,
Enough insurance,
Enough toys,
Enough stored away for a rainy day.
It’s never enough, though;
The voice of our fear will not be dismissed so easily.

But in the small, silent places within us is another voice;
One that beckons us into the foolishness of faith,
That points our gaze to the birds and the flowers,
That in unguarded moments, lets our muscles relax.
And our hearts lean into loved ones.;
In unexpected whispers we hear it,
Calling us to remember your promises,
Your grace,
Your faithfulness;
And, suddenly, we discover,
That it is enough.
Amen.

In the words that I just shared with you from John van de Laar, we hear echoes of the story that the world tries to tell us about money.

There is never enough.

We live with fear and stress and worry… and so much of that has been compounded by the pandemic and economic uncertainties and supply chain disruptions and… and…

There is always something out there with the potential to bring it all crashing to the ground.

Even in the moments when everything is okay…

When we find our footing…

When we have experienced a transformation for good…

We struggle to let go of the fear.

That is what we find in Exodus.

It is a story of a people who just a month and a half before were still in the land of Egypt.

They were living in “an economy of fear and deprivation,” writes Erin Weber-Johnson but God liberated them from oppression.

Can you imagine the joy and the freedom and the excitement of being able to write a new story for your life?

And yet they struggled to let go of their fear.

They were not yet sure what it meant to trust in God, they were already looking back upon their days in captivity with rose-colored glasses.

You see, they remembered that at the end of those days, they could sit by the fire and their pots were full and bread was plentiful… or at least it seemed that way in their memories.

They forgot that they could never produce enough to satisfy their oppressor.

Whether they lived or died, how many bricks they had to make, what materials they had to do so with… it was all based upon the whims of Pharaoh and their overseers.

The work was brutal and unending… or as Walter Bruggemann describes it “the endless rat race for sufficiency.”

Like livestock must be fed and equipment has to be maintained, the Egyptians knew they had to keep their workforce alive in order for them to work.

But it was never really enough.

The bare necessities of food and water… which the Israelites found themselves crying out for in the new barren land… are not enough

And to be honest, many of us experience this in our own lives, don’t we?

We work and we work, thinking eventually we might have enough money to provide for more than our basic needs… we work incredibly hard so that someday we might enjoy our life and by the time we get there we are too tired and worn out to experience it.

Our quest for “enough” is killing us.

Or perhaps your story is more like that of Pharoah.

We so fiercely guard what we have acquired that we begin to see outside forces as a threat to our power and position.

So we rail against taxes and we bemoan immigrants and we cry out about what belongs to us.

Or maybe it is far simpler… we hoard what we have without even being aware of the people we have impacted.

We have moved far beyond “enough”; filling our closets, and homes, and garages, and storage units with things and we cannot even remember why and we are too afraid or ashamed to consider the consequences of such a life.

Both of these stories are ruled by fear.

A fear that there never has been and never will be enough.

As Rev. Sarah Are writes,

Our anxiety is loud.

Our fear is loud.

Our anger is loud.

Our shame is loud.

Mental illness is loud.

Doubt is loud.

But there is another voice that is whispering in the background.

A voice that hovered over the waters of creation.

A voice that led the Israelites out of slavery with a pillar of fire.

A voice that promises not just to feed us, but to love us, to guide us, to give us rest.

When the Israelites found themselves in the middle of nowhere, utterly dependent upon God, it terrified them.

But that is precisely when God steps in and reminded them… I am enough. I will provide.

“At twilight you will eat meat. And in the morning you will have your fill of bread.” (Ex. 16: 12)

This food comes without requiring any labor other than stepping outside of their tent and gathering it up.

The only strings attached were that they didn’t take more than they needed.

If they did, it rotted and became infested with worms and stank.

OOF… Do you hear that… if we take more than we need it is just going to rot away.

And then, here was the kicker.

On the sixth day, they were told gather enough so that on the seventh they could rest.

God provided. God was enough.

You know, I got to thinking about that prayer that we say every single week in worship.

We ask for God to give us our daily bread.

Our manna from heaven.

And if you look at the Greek work that Jesus uses here it is: epiousios, which we understand to mean that which is necessary and sufficient, that which gives substance to our lives.

We are asking for God to teach us, shape us, remind us what truly is enough.

As we remember this story of manna in the wilderness, it wasn’t just about food.

It was also about learning who they were, who we are, as people who are loved by God.

It was about learning to obey God’s commands.

It was about learning to trust in God’s faithfulness.

It was about learning what it meant to share with one another.

And it was about learning to rest on God’s Sabbath.

And we are called to remember that our fears and our anxiety and what Walter Bruggemann calls “the endless rat race for sufficiency” (Money and Possessions), are never going to bring us enough.

We are called to remember God’s provision, God’s grace, and God’s faithfulness – not just with our minds, but to let these truths sink into our very bones and our daily existence so that we, too, will be shaped as God’s people.

You know… maybe the Lord’s Prayer should be our daily practice.

Our daily gathering of manna from heaven.

Our daily reminder of who we are and whose we are.

Because when we cry out, “give us this day our daily bread,” we are not simply asking God to make sure there is food on my table tonight.

We are asking for God to provide for all who hunger. To make sure that everyone has enough.

Those who hunger for rest.

Those who hunger for connection and relationship.

Those who hunger for liberation and freedom from oppression or addiction or worry.

We here at Immanuel believe that God is calling us to love, serve, and pray so that all who hunger might be fed by God’s grace.

We dream of a future where no one in our zip code goes to bed hungry at night.

We dream of a church where children and grandparents are growing together as they share meals and laughter.

We dream of a community where every need is met because we have so many volunteers at Immanuel willing to give of their time and talents and resources.

And that means putting hands and feet on this prayer and rolling up our sleeves and getting to work.

In our church money story, we can remember times we all rallied together to accomplish big things with God’s help – like when Faith Hall was built.

But with the uncertainty in the world today, stories of fear and scarcity and doubt start to creep in again.

We can get focused on making sure there is enough to keep the lights on and lose sight of God’s promises and faithfulness and who God has called us to become.

This fall, as our leaders wrestled with our goals for 2022, one step we knew we wanted to embrace was leading with mission. We want to be a church known for how we are reaching out to love our neighbor.

And so, we have a few goals related to that like focusing on a local 2022 Volunteers in Mission Trip, but we also discussed how we might have to adjust our own church money story to truly lead with mission.

We want to get to a place where 100% of our budget is supported by annual pledges SO THAT everything else that comes into our church, all of the other money and gifts that we receive can be given away.

We are trying to realign our own money story around what is enough so that we can turn around and bless our neighbors with everything else.

That is just one way that we are going to become the church God is yearning for us to be. A church where all who hunger are fed by God’s grace.

It is just one way that we are going to remember that God is enough. Amen.

A Resilient Foundation

Posted on June 21, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 7:24-25; Ephesians 3:14-19

Who holds you up?
What keeps you from toppling?
In the midst of storms and fire and viruses and racism and accusation and conflict, how do you not fall apart?
When you are juggling kids and work and zoom meetings and the dog and the lawn needs mowed what are you supposed to do?

Consider the lilies, Jesus says just a handful of verses before our scripture from Matthew today… or maybe in our case, consider the trees.
How does a giant sequoia remain standing for not years, not centuries, but for thousands of years?

General Sherman is the world’s largest known tree and can be found in the midst of Sequoia National Park. As Lyons and Barkhauer remind us, it is:
“…not the tallest, nor the widest, nor the oldest, but don’t let the lack of superlatives lower your expectations. General Sherman is the largest by volume and by weight. A sign at the tree’s base states it could hold enough water to fill almost ten thousand bathtubs, and that it weighs about 1,385 tons. Estimated at 2,200 years old [my note – that’s older than Jesus!] – the tree is more than 36 feet across at the base and towers 274 feet above you.” (America’s Holy Ground, p. 201-202)

Think about what that single tree has withstood…
Earthquakes.
Wildfires.
Drought.
High Winds.
Humans.
And still it remains standing.

What can we learn from trees like this?
What lessons do they have to teach us?

I think the first lesson is that you have to have strong roots and a firm foundation upon which to stand.
Imagine the depth and the breadth of the structure that is required to support such an immense tree.
For millennia those roots have sunk deep into the rocky soil, pushing water and nutrients up the trunk to provide growth.
Without a strong foundation, it would topple over and collapse.

And we are the same way.
Without the foundations in our lives that give us support and structure, we, too, would collapse.
These verses from the gospel of Matthew come at the end of three chapters filled with instruction and encouragement about how we should live in the world.
The “Sermon on the Mount” teaches us what it means to be truly blessed…
That the Kingdom belongs to the hungry, the hopeless, and the grieving…
the humble, the harassed, and the peacemakers
Jesus tells us how to share God’s love with others…
And he stretches our understanding of the law so that it is fulfilled not by adhering to the letter, but the spirit…
He reminds us that it is not enough not to kill, we should not even be angry at one another…
That we should not simply refrain from adultery, we should not objectify others…
Turn the other cheek…
Love your enemies…
Stop showing off your faith for others and actually turn to God…
Don’t worry about yourself, but seek God’s kingdom…
Don’t judge others, but pay attention to the fruit you are producing in the world…

And then Jesus concludes this amazing teaching by saying:
“These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life… improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on.” (7:24 MSG).
These are not adornments or afterthoughts.
These are the roots.
This is the foundation.
This is the solid rock upon which everything else rests.
If these principles have not already formed the basis for our faith, for our lives, for our souls… then when the winds and rain and conflict and turmoil come our way… of course it will all fall apart.
Without a deep commitment towards others, a deep well of mercy and forgiveness, a deep sense that God is with us in the midst of anything we face, we will “become disoriented, unsteady, and unsure.” (p.203)
We will become angry and reactive and defensive when the winds of change or turmoil or conflict begin to blow.

And if that is how you are feeling in your own life… then we can start by shoring up those foundations.

We have to care for our own bodies and minds.
Just recently, we sent home to our families a “Guide to Self-Care” in the midst of this pandemic.
It contains very simple reminders of things we can do like get enough sleep, take time for friends, leave room for our feelings, and breathing.
There can be so much pressure and stress blowing in our lives right now and these simple things ground us in the moment.

We also can turn to and remember our own history and the people who have come before us.
Today, on Father’s Day, we are invited to remember the wisdom of our fathers and grandfathers and generations past who have taught us how to get through difficult moments.
From simple things like how they helped us to get back on the bike when we fell off…
To their own experiences with the civil rights movement, or how they responded to the polio epidemic, or how they kept going in the midst of a loss in their life…

Our forefathers, our ancestors, those roots of our family tree… they are a source of love and hope and strength during these tough times.

And then, we need to strength our faith foundations.
Turn to scripture.
Spend time in prayer.
Join a small group to re-center your faith.
Nurture the roots, the foundation, the ground in which you live and move and have your being.
That was Paul’s prayer for the church in Ephesus.
He was seeking to strengthen their faith and help them withstand whatever controversies or oppression they might face and so he prayed that God might give them strong roots in love.
He prayed that they would open their hearts and allow Christ to make a home there.
He believed that this would create a firm foundation of rooted and grounded faith. That it would build deep sustained roots would allow them to be able to grasp the width and length and height and dept of God’s love.
And he believed with these strong foundations, these amazing roots, that God could do amazing, miraculous, holy and wonderful things through the church.
That is my prayer for you, too.
That our own foundation and roots might be strengthen by one another and by God so that no matter what comes our way, our faith and our community will not topple.

But the other lesson that I think we have to learn from these trees is that what can appear to adversity can actually be the source of new life. We are learning that strong roots and solid foundations provide resiliency in the midst of storms that creates new opportunities.

I learned this week that giant sequoias need wildfires in order to continue as a species.
They are remarkably fire-resistant… some with bark up to thirty inches thick.
But more than that – without the intense heat of the fire, the sequoia cones cannot open to release their seeds.
Fire also clears away any of the clutter and overgrowth on the forest floor, creating space for seedlings to germinate and survive.

I think some of what we are seeing in our world today feels like that dangerous wildfire coming at us faster than we can run.
There is a lot of anger and frustration spilling out and we don’t know how to put it out or stop it or what to do with it.
But maybe it is a question of reframing.

First – where have I become afraid or anxious or reactive when I am actually more protected and safer than I thought?
Adam Hamilton reminds us in his book, “Afraid” that facts are more important than fear.
Taking the time to get the facts, to understand another perspective, to prepare yourself and create a plan… all of these are ways we can build up that think bark of protection that allows us to stand resilient in the midst of the turmoil.

Second – What is being revealed that we couldn’t see before with all of the clutter? As we notice things related to the coronavirus, or racism, or institutional and systemic practices… sometimes we get frustrated that they were not brought up or handled before.
But some things can only be seen in moments of chaos and conflict when everything else is cleared out of the way.
This moment has helped families to find respite from their busy schedules.
It has helped us to recognize the lonely and vulnerable who are our neighbors.
It has uncovered some of the problems with how we interact with one another we were too busy or distracted to see.

Third – we are seeing the seeds of this time and changes and new life and opportunities springing up all around.
Common sense reforms that make communities and police officers safer.
Real conversations about our history of racism.
We are building new ways of reaching out to one another like our caring connections groups.
Even online worship opportunities are impacting more people than we ever would have done had we remained within our walls.

God does not promise that wind and fire and turmoil and conflict will not come our way.
They most certainly will.
But God has invited us to claim a faith, to be grounded in love, to build our lives upon a firm foundation that can weather the woes of the world.
And with God’s help… with Christ living in our heart… with the Spirit providing strength… we lives we have built will not fall apart.
As Paul writes:
Glory to God in the church!
Glory to God in the Messiah, Jesus!
Glory down all the generations!
Forever and always.
Amen.

Behind Closed Doors

Posted on April 12, 2020Leave a comment

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.

⁴Rejoice^[^c^] in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.^[^d^] ⁵Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. ⁶Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷And 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

Sing! Play! Summer! – My Lighthouse

Posted on August 18, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 14:22-33

For the last couple of weeks it has been so incredibly dry around here. It was such a blessing this morning to wake up around 5am with the sounds of thunder gentle rolling and raindrops hitting the earth.
You know… it was in a dark hour like that – during the fourth watch or sometime between three and six in the morning – that a storm is brewing out on the lake with a boatful of disciples hanging on for dear life.

The truth of the matter is, we are all a little bit like those disciples.
We are all here because at some point in our lives we responded to the call of Jesus and showed up.
And we got into the boat, knowing who was guiding the journey.
But we don’t always know where we are going.
In this particular instance, we are heading off to get ready for some new ministry adventure, but the truth is, there is all sorts of stuff going on outside of the boat… Jesus is no where to be seen… we think we might capsize or crash… we feel like we are barely keeping our heads above the water…

You might think I’m talking about some symbolic and imaginary boat.
You picture yourselves floating down the Raccoon River on a kayak or on a little john boat on Saylorville Lake.
But friends, I’m not talking about something imaginary!
We have all – literally – stepped into a boat this morning!

I’ve shared this fun little fact about churches with you before a few years ago, but a refresher is always good.
This part of the sanctuary where I am standing is called the “chancel”. In much older churches, there would have been a screen used to separate this altar area from the rest of the congregation. It created a separation between the people and the sacraments. Because our church is far more egalitarian, the communion railing is the closest thing we have to such a dividing line today.
This part of the sanctuary is the “nave.” The word comes from the Latin navis, which means boat or ship. While that is the technical name for this space in all churches, no matter what architectural style they might have, our church building utilizes a very special design.
Imagine you were building a large wooden boat… you’ve got the frame of it and the beams to hold it together…. Now flip it upside down and you will have something like our vaulted roof today!
So, yes, we are all hanging out here, in the boat we call church, hanging on for dear life, trying to figure out what comes next in the midst of a storm.

You know… sometimes I think that this passage of scripture is just about the storms of that moment, but the reality is, there has been pressure building on the disciples for some time.

If we go back twenty or thirty verses, there have been some trying times for the disciples lately:

Back in 13:54 – Jesus heads to his hometown and tries to do some ministry, but they reject his teaching. They don’t want to hear from this guy that they watched grow up among them. They start naming off his sisters and brothers and parents… who does this guy think he is?
Hmm… the people we know and love are less and less interested in what the church is doing. They’ve stopped coming or are more hostile towards religion. They are quick to point out the faults, rather than listen to what we’ve really been up to.
Sound familiar?

Then, as chapter 14 starts, we get the story of how John the Baptist – the very same one who kicked things off for Jesus and baptized him and started calling people to repentance. Well, he got arrested by King Herod and beheaded, and word had just reached Jesus and the disciples. John found himself in this position because he challenged the political establishment and the way they kept breaking the rules. He raised his prophetic voice and was killed for it.
Can you imagine the impact such news might have had upon this rag tag bunch of disciples?
Were they looking around, wondering if they would be next?
Our political climate here in the U.S. is very different from that of the disciples, because swirling all around us are people who are speaking out and challenging the political structure… from both ends of the theological spectrum.
But there is also a spirit of animosity and silencing that has a chilling effect. It feels like we have never been more divided and while we might not fear for our lives if we say something, we do fear rejection.
I also remember that King Herod was not just a political figure, but a religious one as well. He was appointed as a governor by the Romans over his own Jewish people. So this is also a faith conversation within the family.
And I can’t help but draw parallels between conflicts we are experiencing today in the United Methodist Church. In some places, the move towards inclusion is being challenged by more theologically conservative folks. In other places, including right here in Iowa, LGBTQ folks are being brought up on complaints and put on trial for challenging and breaking rules they believe are unjust.
Whether in Jesus’ time or today, when the air is charged like that, it makes it hard to figure out what to do or say next.

Well, you know what Jesus does as this tension and pressure is mounting?
He says: Goodness gracious friends – I need a break! And he tries to step away and center himself for a bit.
But who shows up there in that quiet, deserted place, but large crowds of people who are hungry to hear and see and touch and experience God’s grace.
So Jesus invites everyone to sit down and takes a meager offering of fish and loaves and turns them into a feast for thousands.
The disciples didn’t think it was possible. They couldn’t see the potential miracle all around them. But Jesus did… and he brought it into existence.

And we, as a church, experience that, too, don’t we?
In the wake of General Conference, we’ve all tried to take a collective breath and wait and see and pray for what comes next… but the reality is there is still work to do.
There are still hungry people around us and folks in the hospital and the precarious nature of life and death continues. We aren’t always sure what to do about it.
But then the Holy Spirit shows up and puts us to work.
Last week, we raised around $2100 and collected 490 items for the DMARC Food Pantry and we met some really great neighbors at the Benefit Concert.
You’ve been showing up for one another in the hospital through surgeries and illness.
We’ve come together as a community for funerals and shared loved and hospitality with people that we might not have known very well before we sat down to share stories and break bread.
Thank you, to so many of you, who have rolled up your sleeves, and shown up and gone the extra mile.
Ministries of healing and compassion and love had been growing all around us this summer by God’s grace, but it is also hard and exhausting work.

Then… and only then… does Matthew’s gospel put us on the boat.
Jesus sends the disciples on ahead to the other side of the lake and so they climb aboard.
But you know what? They don’t really know what’s waiting for them over there.
I think that the disciples, really wanted Jesus to come with them and so they tried as hard as they could to stay near the shore and wait for Jesus.
In the midst of all of the mounting pressure and tension and conflict… they don’t want to do this alone.
They don’t want to take a step in the wrong direction or land in the wrong spot.
They doubt themselves. They don’t want to fail.
And that’s when the storm hits.
And out there on those stormy waters, in that unfamiliar territory, they get overwhelmed by the chaos of it all.
They are so terrified and shaken that when Jesus walks out to them on the water and shows up in their midst, they don’t even recognize him.
Because why would Jesus be out there?
Out in those scary and unfamiliar waters?
They felt lost, confused, disoriented…
And Jesus shows up, because that is precisely when they… when we… need him the most.
In our Conspire service, we’ve been doing a number of songs by the band, Rend Collective. They are a group from Northern Ireland whose upbeat music grabs hold and lifts you out of your seat and a lot of their work, unlike a lot of other contemporary artists, is focused on creating space for people to sing together.
Our favorite song for this week is “My Lighthouse,” and they wrote this song thinking about the experience of those disciples out there on the troubled seas.
Gareth Gilkeson said, “we sing about the failures and doubting, and knowing that God doesn’t walk out on us.”
God doesn’t walk out on us.
Let me say that again… God doesn’t walk out on us.
Instead, Jesus walks right up to you.
He walks through the waves and the wind and gets in the boat with us.
The very light of the world draws close, leading us through our troubles, showing us how to love and take the next step, reminding us that we are not alone.

Yes, maybe things feel like they are building up and there is uncertainty and we don’t exactly know what tomorrow is going to bring. We might take some changes, like Peter stepping out of the boat, and we might fall flat on our face. We might struggle and doubt and feel like giving up, but here is what that song reminds us:
God isn’t going to let us go.
And just like Jesus reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand and pulls him back in, Jesus is reaching out for us.
When we hold on to that light…
When we hold on to that love…
When we hold on to those promises…
Christ will help us make it back to the shore.

We can have questions and doubts.
We might wrestle with what we are supposed to do next.
We might try something and fail.
We might be at a complete loss for words.
But friends, don’t let the storm completely overwhelm you.
Because there is a light already shining in the darkness ready to guide us to where we need to be.
We might not see it yet and we definitely might not be able to glimpse the shore… but its there. And if we keep turning to Jesus, he’ll lead us there.
Thanks be to God. Amen.

YES!: Are Ye Able?

Posted on September 23, 2018Leave a comment

Text: Mark 10:35-45

This summer, we invited each of our households here at Immanuel to read a book together: Defying Gravity by Tom Berlin. Berlin invited us to try to break free from the gravity of this world, the culture of more, and the kingdom of self-centered ways in order to follow Jesus and find freedom within the Kingdom of God.
This fall, as we approach our Stewardship Sunday we are going to be exploring ways that the early disciples found themselves saying YES to Jesus. Ways that they, and we are invited to break free from what is burdening us, so that we can follow Jesus Christ.

On first glance, the disciples James and John in our scripture today don’t seem to be breaking out of the kingdom of self-centered ways. In fact, they seem to be completely focused on their own success and glory.
In the verses immediately before our scripture reading for this morning, Jesus is predicting his own death and resurrection… but these two don’t seem to be paying attention.
In fact, they are too busy trying to find their way to the best seats at the table.

I’ve discovered whenever we go to have meals with my nieces and nephews that this very topic, where people get to sit, is really important. Sometimes, before I’ve even taken off my coat at the door, I find a nephew tugging at my hand, showing me where my seat is. It is always very strategically placed next to him.
The only problem with all of this maneuvering is that I only have a right side and a left side. And there are now four nieces and nephews all vying for one of those coveted spots. Someone’s feelings usually get hurt because they didn’t get the chance to ask first and sometimes a fight breaks out. Usually we have to do some negotiating so that if I sat next to one of them last time, it gets to be someone else’s turn. Or perhaps we are there for the weekend and we can all get a chance.
Suffice it to say – I almost never get to sit by my husband at family meals.

Well, James and John, they, too have their eyes on the best seats, right next to Jesus, at this great heavenly feast and coming of God’s glory that they keep hearing about.
They have conveniently forgotten all of the tough times that await.
Or maybe they haven’t.
Maybe they are terrified about all of these predictions about death and trials and rejection and they are doing what we all naturally do when we encounter our fears… they are trying to secure their own future.

Biblical scholar Charles Campbell suggests that “fear breeds the desire for security.” (Feasting on the Word).
We find ourselves fearful of all sorts of things in this world. Fear of strangers, fear of terrorism, fear of falling behind, fear for our children.
A good friend of mine went out for a run by herself this weekend and posted on facebook that the entire time she was uneasy and anxious in light of the recent attacks upon women who were alone, minding their own business, living their life.
And you know what – fears breed the desire for security. People quickly responded with ways to work to keep safe – from wasp spray, to sonic whistles, a buddy system and more.
Fight, flight, freeze… we seek security and protection from our fears by buying things to help us fight back or get away or we allow the fear to keep us from engaging all together.

These disciples weren’t running away from this difficult journey of Jesus, but they wanted to fight for a seat by his side when it was all over. And James and John rush to ask the question first. They want a guarantee of where they will land at the end of it all.
Jesus invites them to consider a different way. He turns their eyes from the heavenly seat of glory and instead invites them to think about images of baptism, communion, and the cross.
He’s asking them to break free from the gravity of fear that leads them to seek their own spot at the table and to instead embrace the Kingdom of God that is the way of the servant.

Are you able? Jesus asks them and us.

Are you able to drink from this cup?
We are being invited to say YES to the holy practices of the table. A table of love and grace, mercy and forgiveness. Around God’s table, all are welcome – sinners and saints – and there is no seat that is more important than any other.
Around God’s table, we discover that it is in giving that we receive and we learn that God has always provided enough to sustain us. We don’t need to fight or grasp or cling to secure our own future, God has already done the work. Christ is the bread of life, broken for us, and when we eat and when we drink, we offer ourselves as a holy and living sacrifice. We become the body of Christ, redeemed by his blood, shared with the world.

Are you able to receive my baptism?
We are being invited to say YES to the sacred practices of death and renewal. At the font, even this morning, we remembered that our very life was nurtured by God in the waters of a womb. We are invited to enter these waters and die to our old selves and to rise with Christ. And we are reassured of the grace of God that will continue to make our lives new.
In response, we are called to embody a life that rejects the kingdom of the self and all that would pull ourselves and those around us, into that black hole of thinking that we are never enough or we will never have enough. We become living witnesses to the gospel, standing against injustice and oppression and evil and proclaiming hope.

When Jesus asks James and John if they are able, the truth is that he knows they are able.
He knows that no matter the shortcomings and the fears that led them to ask this question, they can and will break free. Charles Campbell sees this as a great promise to us as the church today. He writes:
“We need not always live in fear; we need not continually seek our own security. Rather, we have Jesus’ promise that we can and will live as faithful disciples as we seek to follow him.” (Feasting on the Word, p. 193)

Are you able to take up my cross?
In a world in which rulers show off their authority and the powerful push people around, Jesus invites us to say YES to a different way. The cross, you see, is not just about the forgiveness of my personal sin. It forms all of us into a community of faith that is not organized by winners and losers, the honored and the shamed, but by how we love and care for and serve one another. As Saint Francis of Assisi invites us to pray:

O Divine Master, grant that I may not seek so much
to be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love,
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

When we say YES to Jesus, we are set free from our fears and our drive to secure our own future. And we are empowered by the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit to truly follow Christ. We are able, not because any of our own abilities or knowledge or power… but because the practices of this church like baptism and communion fill us with the grace and strength we need to keep saying yes, day after day.

There will be many things around us that cause us to fear. But by living into the practices of community Jesus has offered, we find the courage and the strength to change the world one moment at a time. We are building a kingdom where no person will ever have to fear again. Thanks be to God, Amen.

God is Speaking!

Posted on February 11, 2018Leave a comment

Last Saturday, Brandon and I cuddled up on our gigantic couch in the family room, turned on Netflix, and proceeded to binge watch an entire season of a new show.
There was no waiting to see what would happen next… the episode played automatically.
There were no spoilers, because the series, Altered Carbon, had just come out and there wasn’t any buzz about it yet.
We just curled up, stuffed our faces with popcorn, and had the opportunity to experience the entire wild ride.

That is very different from how we used to watch television.
I can still remember in seminary how obsessed I was with Grey’s Anatomy. On Fridays, a girlfriend and I would meet for coffee and we would recap the previous nights episode. There had been one particularly harrowing cliff-hanger and to spend an entire week waiting to see what would come next felt brutal. We spent most of our time debating whether or not we wanted to go online and glimpse at the spoilers on the fan sites to get a clue as to how the situation might turn out.
In the end, we decided we wouldn’t be able to concentrate on our class work if we didn’t know if the character lived or died… We were invested in the story, in the people… as ridiculous as it sounds, we needed some kind of hope, some glimpse that things were going to be okay. So we sought out every single spoiler alert we could find.

Over these past few weeks, we have ever so briefly followed the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. In reality, we’ve only scratched the surface, living mainly in the first chapter of Mark’s gospel. And already, we’ve encountered God, watched ordinary people become disciples, and have witnessed any number of miracles of healing.
The gospel of Mark moves so quickly from one moment to the next… just like those episodes on Netflix play automatically and keep you engaged for just one more…. In fact – I bet if you went home after worship today and opened your bible you’d find that reading through Mark is a breeze and it would be over before you realized it.
We find out Jesus has the power to not only cast out demons and heal, but to calm the waters and miraculously produce food out of crumbs. Like any great season of television, the energy is building towards triumph and freedom and release over the first eight chapters of Mark’s gospel.

And then we get to chapter 8.
As we reach the very end, Jesus begins to teach the disciples that the path towards victory and life and God’s salvation for all people was a journey through death.
He began to warn them about the suffering and rejection and brutal punishment that awaited.
And it was not an easy message to swallow. Peter even had the audacity to scold Jesus for saying such things.
Yet, this was the path before them.

Imagine, for just a moment, that you are in the very last episode of the season and THIS was the dialogue that was taking place.
You begin to realize that the next part of this story was going to look very different than the first. What was full of joy and celebration and miracles is going to be darker and more dangerous.
You are now invested in this journey, you’ve left everything you have to follow Jesus and now the path looks so different…
How are you going to make it through to the next season?
How are you going to manage the wait and the anxiety and the unknowing?

And so before this part of the story ends, Jesus shares with a few of the disciples a gigantic spoiler alert.
He takes them up the mountain and as they reach the summit, Jesus moves a few paces ahead and then turns around to face them.
And as he does – he changes before their eyes!
His whole body seems to radiate with an inexplicable glory and even his clothes shine brighter than the sun.
Just as the three disciples begin to adjust their eyes to this brilliance they see two figures appear beside their Master… two figures who could only be Moses and Elijah.
As Peter and James and John cower in fear and trembling before this amazing visage – the three figures have a conversation.
Now, if I’m Peter, if I have been learning at the feet of Jesus for a few months, if I have been a part miracles that have taken place, and if I’m led up to the top of a mountain where my teacher suddenly begins to glow and radiate glory… and if I am terrified to face a path of suffering and rejection… then I might grab a hold of this moment and think that THIS was what they had been preparing for.
He interrupts them, offers to build shrines and temples, essentially trying to re-direct the entire journey and turn season two of this story into a show on top of the mountain.

But that is NOT why they are there.
A cloud overshadowed the trio of disciples like a fog rolling in. The glory of Jesus, Moses and Elijah was concealed by the dense cloud and in a rumble of thunderous glory the voice of God spoke to their hearts: This is my Son, This is my Beloved! Listen to him!
Just as quickly as the cloud moved it, it dissipated, and the three bewildered and terrified disciples opened their eyes to find their teacher Jesus, standing before them alone. With hardly a word, apart from telling them not to talk about what they had seen until after the resurrection, Jesus leads them back down the mountain.

I can vividly remember pouring over still images on websites with my friend, trying to guess what was going to happen next in our favorite show based on a few glimpses. We would speculate based on the characters or where they were standing or what else was present in the background and try to make meaning out of the signs so we had something to hold on to.

In many ways, this brief moment on the mountaintop was that kind of spoiler alert, giving the disciples something to hang on to.
The voice of God rang out, shaking them to their very core, and reminded them that God’s power and purpose was present in their teacher, Jesus.
The presence of Moses and Elijah, affirmed that the law and the prophets were being fulfilled in the ministry of the Son of God. Everything they had been taught and believed about the restoration of Israel… of all creation… would come to pass.
And, it was a reminder that even though the next part of this story would look different, they had a glimpse of the light and the glory that would give them hope on dark days.
In Mark’s gospel, Jesus has now set his face towards Jerusalem. They were leaving behind the healing and the teaching and were heading straight towards the seat of power… not to be a force that would overthrow it violently, but through a display of righteous love.
They didn’t quite understand what the resurrection meant… but they saw a glimpse, a spoiler, of the things to come, that they could hold on to when the going got tough.

We were never called to build tents and tabernacles to enshrine these moments forever.
This story is not yet finished.
We have to keep working.
We have to keep seeing what changes need to be made.
We have to keep hearing the voice of God speaking into our lives.
And that means coming down from the mountain, rolling up our sleeves, and getting to work.

After all, that is what Jesus did.
The light of glory revealed on the mountaintop was meant for the world.
And Jesus knew that for that light to dwell within each of us, he was going to have to shine even in the darkest places of the world.
He was going to have to confront evil powers.
He was going to have to withstand betrayal and abuse.
He was going to have to carry his cross and enter the grave of death.
But he did it all so that the light of the knowledge of the glory of God could shine on us.

Unlike the disciples, we know how this next part of the story ends. We’ve seen our way through Jerusalem, through the cross, and have watched countless generations listen to God’s call to let their light shine.
What we sometimes forget is that we can’t stay on the mountaintop either.
This is not simply a story we curl up on our couches to experience.
Our season, our part of this journey is still being written.
And God is still speaking and still calling us to follow Jesus.

So as we enter the season of Lent, we, too, will set our faces towards Jerusalem.
This Wednesday, we will remember our mortality and our own journey through death with a cross of ashes on our foreheads.
We will once again have the opportunity to redefine ourselves in the light of the one who came to save us.
Over these coming weeks, we’ll explore what it means for Christ to be our hero and our savior and perhaps we will discover all over again what it means to be a disciple.
Friends, let us come down from the mountain where we have tried to wrap up our faith with a neat and tidy bow. A whole new season is beginning and this time you are ones God is calling to let your light shine.

Around Every Corner

Posted on October 8, 2017Leave a comment

This summer I have harvested quite a bit of produce from my garden.
Tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers in particular.
I put up 7 quarts of salsa, 4 quarts of spaghetti sauce, 8 quarts of dill pickles, 4 quarts of sweet and spicy pickles, some pickle relish, and I’ve frozen 10 bags of roasted tomatoes.

My pantry is literally overflowing with the bounty from my garden, and you want to know what thought crossed my mind after this week?

Pickles and salsa won’t feed us if there is a disaster.

As I thought about all of the folks in Puerto Rico who are struggling with access to food and water and electricity, I tried to imagine what my family would do in that situation.
As the rhetoric has continued to rise with North Korea, I wondered what you actually could do to prepare for if the unthinkable happens.
As I sat and listened to colleagues at a Creation Care conference in Indianapolis yesterday, I heard them say that the UN no longer talks about climate change mitigation or prevention, but climate change adaptation… I began to think about how I personally need to start adapting.

If you turn on the television or scroll through your facebook feed or listen to the radio, there are a thousand threats to our health, safety, and security.
We lost 59 people last Sunday to a violent rampage from a man whose only motive appears to be that he wanted to shoot as many people as possible.
Our hearts began to race when a traffic accident in London outside of a museum yesterday was initially thought to be an act of terrorism.

The simple truth is that we have no clue what might be lurking around the corner. We can’t see what the future might hold and sometimes we allow fear to be the defensive mechanism that either keeps us from moving forward or which guards our hearts from those around us.

We aren’t the only people in history to have been afraid.

The scripture that Don read as a part of the drama just a few minutes ago comes from the 41st and 42nd chapters of Isaiah.
The people of Israel had sinned against one another and God and the prophet was called upon to bring judgment.
And for 39 chapters, Isaiah lists the sins of the people and names all of the things that would happen to them as a result.
And they did.
Everything they feared came to pass.
Jersualem was destroyed.
The people were carried off to Babylon.
Life as they knew it ended.
And they weren’t quite sure what to make of their new life.
But then Isaiah speaks into their midst once again:
“Comfort, comfort my people!” says your God.
“Speak compassionately to Jerusalem and proclaim to her that her compulsory service has ended.”
The turnaround from chapter 39 to 40 is abrupt and stark. Christopher Seitz notes that this is because “ a word is being spoken from the void, against all hope and all expectation, by God.” (NIB – VI – 328)

Against all hope and expectation.
When everything appeared to be the darkest.
With the future completely up in the air and uncertainty around every corner.
God speaks:
Do not be afraid, I am with you.

God is inviting the people of Israel to not only trust in God’s presence in the midst of a difficult time… but God is inviting them to transform their fear into curiosity and purpose and assurance.

First, rather than be afraid of the things that is happening, the people are invited to become curious and inquisitive and to allow God’s power and majesty fill them with awe.
In fact, if you read through chapters 40-48, you will find God asks a heck of a lot of questions!
Who measured the waters in the palm of a hand or gauged the heavens with a ruler? (40:12)
To whom will you compare me, and who is my equal? (40:25)
Who has acted and done this, calling generation after generation? (41:4)

I think one of the ways we can respond to the fears that creep into our lives is to be curious as well.
In the midst of a changing neighborhood and world, instead of walling ourselves off in fear, we can ask questions about what is happening and why. We can get to know our neighbors and read up on the roots of conflicts that we experience.
One of the things churches often struggle with is finances – always fearing that we will not have enough for the next year.
That fear can stun us into silence or it can keep us from taking risks and stepping out in faith.
So one way that we can turn that fear into curiosity is to look deeper into trends in giving and learn about ways to reach new people and we can invite one another to think about stewardship in new ways.
Curiosity, learning, exploration – these are all antidotes to fear.

Second, God gives the people purpose in the midst of their fears.
As our reading continued into chapter 42 of Isaiah, God tells the people that he has a job for them to do.
“I have called you for a good reason… I will give you as a covenant to the people, as a light to the nations, to open blind eyes, to lead the prisoners from prison.”

When we look out at all of the things in this world that might cause us to be afraid – it would be easy to hunker down in our homes or within the walls of this building.
But God has given us a vision and a purpose, too!
God is calling us to engage deeper, to build partnerships and get to know our neighbors, to live a life of love, service, and prayer…
And just like the Israelites were not only supposed to be a light, an example, but were supposed to get out and heal and set others free… we believe God is calling us to help heal the lives of our members and friends and neighbors and community.
God wants us to be a part of restoration right here in this place.

Finally, God gives the people assurance.
Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.
You are not alone.
No matter what you are going through, I’m right here beside you.

I think this is perhaps the most important part of this message.
Because you know, fear can keep us from a lot of things.
It could keep us from visiting museums or hanging out in public places.
It could keep us from going to concerts.
It could lead us to build bunkers in our basement and never leave them.
It could keep us from doing the work of God in this world.

Every so often, folks stop in here to Immanuel and ask for some gas. We take them up the street to the Git-n-Go and fill up their tank.
Now, I’m a young woman, who doesn’t know much self-defense, and one of our previous Administrative Assistants was always afraid for my safety as I walked up the street to the gas station.
She was worried that the person might do something bad to me, or kidnap me, or some other unknown thing.

But you know what?
God is with me.
God has given me (and us) work to do.
And disaster and tragedy and violence might strike any person, at any moment, in any place.
It is all completely out of our control.
What is in our control is the work of Jesus Christ in this world.
And if something happened to us while we were trying to live that life of love, service, and prayer… well, God is with us.
God will be with us if the unthinkable happens.

Do not be afraid, I am with you.
I have called you each by name.
Come and follow me.
I will bring you home.
I love you are you are mine.

We are God’s.
And we have work to do.
In fact, in the midst of a world filled with fears and brokenness, we have even more work to do.
God has called us for a good reason…
We have the work of healing and wholeness and hope to do.