Genesis – Salvaged Faith

Return. Repair. Restore

Posted on October 31, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Genesis 33:1, 3-5, 8-11; John 21: 1-6, 9-11, 15-17

Oh friends, on this All Hallow’s Eve we find ourselves with two ghost stories of our scriptures…

Okay, okay, they aren’t exactly ghost stories.

But they are about people who were lost, left for dead, and cast out.

They are about relationships coming back from the brink of death.

They are about betrayal and reconciliation and forgiveness.

About laying old demons and ghosts and mistakes to rest so that new life can burst forth.

And while we might not usually think about these two scriptures as stewardship material, both of them tell a story about the hurt and harm that comes when we prioritize our own economic and social well-being at the expense of others… and about the abundance of life we find when we allow God to restore us.

The first story we heard this morning began with conflict in the womb!

Two twin brothers vying to be first and for their place in the world.

And when Jacob comes out second, clinging to the heel of his brother, Esau, he becomes the vulnerable one.

Only, Jacob… with the blessing of his mother… was not satisfied with his place.

He schemed to steal his brother’s birthright, blessing, and inheritance.

Jacob took what did not belong to him and damaged relationships and lives in the process.

He has to flee for his life… which leads us to wonder if any of it was worth it.

Many of our families have experienced pain and conflict and bickering when a loved one dies.

Who gets what, how things are divided, what was said in the will or what was promised… the tension and stress of these realities are compounded by grief that comes out sideways.

I’ve experienced this in my own extended family and the heartbreaking division and separation that resulted and still has not been reconciled.

But the story of Jacob and Esau is not limited to a family squabble about inheritance.

It is also a story about how the happenstances of our birth: where and when we are born impact our ability to thrive in this world.

It is a story about the unequal distribution of wealth and resources.

And it is also a story about what happens when any party focuses on their own self-interest at the expense of others.

This past week, I participated virtually as a director at the fall meeting of Global Ministries.

As we celebrate ministry from everywhere-to-everywhere, we also celebrate the outpouring of compassion and love that is a key part of our mission.

And, I was reminded once again of the damage that inequity has not just on the vulnerable, but on the entire world.

From climate change, to global migration, to the disparity in Covid-19 vaccination distribution, our lives are interconnected.

Any belief that we can procure and protect our own individual or national economic security without a ripple of consequences that impact others and ultimately come back to us is false.

Our gospel reading is one of the resurrection stories that John records, but to fully understand its message we also must go back in time.

We return to the shoreline where a struggling fisherman heard the call to drop his nets and follow Jesus.

Peter’s life was transformed in that moment as he left behind his livelihood to embark on God’s mission at work in his life.

Most of us could not make such a drastic and risky change in our lives and we cannot help but admire him for doing so.

And yet, even Peter, had moments where he put his own well-being and security above the call of Jesus in his life.

In a moment where he could have stood up for his Messiah, Peter denied that he knew the Lord.

Not once. Not twice. But three times.

He got tangled up in his own self-interest and the guilt and the shame haunted him.

Even after experiencing the miracle of the resurrection, Peter wasn’t sure what to do with himself and instead of carrying on the ministry and getting to work, he acted like none of it had every happened.

He went back to business as usual and put his boat out to sea to catch some fish.

I see in Peter’s story a journey that many people of faith have experienced.

We have conversion moments and mountaintop moments along our faith journey that radically shift our minds and transform our hearts.

We become more loving and generous and bold in our faith.

But there are moments that we become caught by those old fears or shame or selfish desires and we slip back into business as usual.

Our energy and passion for God’s work in the world starts to wane.

Faith becomes about me, rather than we.

We see this when folks burnout.

We see this when churches become inwardly focused and maintain the status quo.

We see this even in denominational conversations when the fears about the budget and funding lead us to cuts that eliminate vital ministries.

And in all of those cases, our ministry becomes more known by arguments and complacency, rather than the life-giving power of Jesus.

Imagine if that is where those stories each ended.

A world in which self-interest and fear, division and inequity ruled the narrative.

But friends, that is not the end of these stories.

Our scriptures this morning are stories about how when we return back to our relationships we have the opportunity to repair the harm and God restores us to abundant living.

They are about the restoration of dignity.

The restoration of broken relationships with our neighbors.

The restoration of our relationship to God.

The restoration of a new economy – God’s economy.

Jacob returns home and seeks to repair any harm caused to his sibling by inundating him with gifts of lifestock and servants and wealth.

Goats and sheep and camels and cows and donkeys… all sent as a gift of reconciliation.

Jacob is making amends for what he had stolen.

And yet even as he is preparing to grovel and beg for his life from his elder brother, Esau runs out to meet him with radical love and forgiveness.

Esau is focused on love and can’t even begin to comprehend this gift.

“I have enough. I have plenty. Keep what is yours,” is his response.

When we are focused on love and reconciliation… there is always enough.

Because there is no mine and yours. No winners and losers. No divisions of class.

We simply work to care for one another.

Or as Bishop Sue Haupert-Johnson put it – we practice gentleness… magnanimity… “yielding me for the sake of we.”

It is not just our relationships that are restored, but our very souls and our communal life together.

In the same way, Peter is struggling when he realizes that he cannot simply return to the old ways. They fish all night and catch nothing.

But a familiar voice calls out from the sea shore and challenges him to throw his net on the other side.

Jesus sets a feast of forgiveness and abundance, reaching out, ready to offer grace.

Three questions follow their breakfast by the water.

Three opportunities to confess and proclaim.

Three chances for Peter to reconcile his guilt and shame over his denial.

And in the instructions that follow each question, Jesus shows Peter… and shows us… how to move forward.

Feed my lamps.

Take care of my sheep.

Feed my sheep.

Be about the work of the church.

Focus on what I have called you to do.

Love one another.

Be generous with what you have.

Forgive.

Repair.

Restore.

And you will find life and abundance.

Love God.

Love your neighbor.

Love yourself.

We don’t have to sacrifice everything in order to be good stewards.

We are simply asked to remember that the well-being and life of the people around us is essential to the well-being and life of ourselves.

We are asked to remember that abundance is meant to be shared.

That burdens are as well.

And that God’s money story is one of blessing, provision, forgiveness, and love.

May that story change our lives. Amen.

Again & Again, God Meets Us

Posted on February 21, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Genesis 9, Mark 1

In Lent, we are reminded that again and again, suffering and brokenness find us.

Again and again, the story of Jesus on the cross repeats – every time we witness the injustice and are reminded about how we have forgotten to love.

And again and again, God breaks the cycle and offers us a new way forward.[1]

In that way, this time of Lent is a blessing… a gift from God that reminds us God meets us wherever we are… but never lets us stay there.

Our scripture for this morning is the story of Noah and his family.

Noah found favor with God in the midst of a world that had fallen apart.

All the earth was filled with sin and wickedness, immorality and violence.

Again and again, we fail, don’t we?

God was fed up with the whole thing and wanted to start over.

So our Creator went to Noah and asked him to build a boat – a ship large enough to hold his family and one of every kind of animal.

And when the boat was completed, the skies opened up and it began to rain.

God blessed and saved Noah and his family through the flood… but every other person on the earth – all of them sinners – were swept away in the waters.

For forty days and forty nights, the rains fell and Noah and his wife and children were absolutely alone in the world.

But one day, the waters began to recede.

Eventually, the boat settled on dry ground and Noah and his family came out of the boat and the scriptures tell us that God looked around and realized what had transpired.

We often forget when we come to this part of the story that the earth’s population is gone.

We forget that the animals and plants and every other living thing on earth was now dead.

We forget of the devastating force of flood waters, until we go through them ourselves.

I remember vividly what it was like to walk in the neighborhoods of Cedar Rapids following the flood of 2008.

After just a few days of being submerged, the grass and the plants were dying and the stench of creatures that had not escaped was everywhere.

I can’t imagine the devastation after more than a month of floodwaters.

Scripture tells us that God looked around at all the destruction and made a promise – right there and then.

“Never again will I send a flood to destroy the earth and everything that lives on it. No, I’m going to put my rainbow in the clouds, so that whenever the storm clouds start to gather and you see that bow – I will remember the promise that I have made to you today.”

This part of the story – where God changes God’s mind is really hard for some of us to understand.

We don’t like the idea that God acts one way and then turns around and feels bad about it.

We like to think of our God as unchanging and dependable!

But I want to tell you that I don’t think this is story is about God’s uncertainty or remorse.

Many other cultures and religions in the world have a flood story.

American Indians, the Ancient Greeks, Sumerian and Babylonian traditions, among many others, tell of waters being sent by the gods to flood the earth.

Many of these also have a hero who is warned of the coming waters and who preserves the heritage of the people.

So it’s not surprising that the Hebrew tradition, our tradition, has a flood story, too.

What is surprising is that when all is said and done – our scriptures speak of God’s mercy and tell us that destruction is NOT how God is going to save the creation.

It’s almost as if our Hebrew ancestors took those familiar stories of the flood and they retold it with a new ending.

Our God, the God that we follow has made a covenant – a promise – with us.

Our God cares for the creation.

Our God desires life, not death.

It’s almost as if they were saying: the God we follow never would have sent a flood in the first place.

You see, from the very first chapter of Genesis to the very last chapter in Revelation, the message is conveyed in the Bible is that God loves us. God meets us where we are. God wants to redeem us… not destroy us.

This week for Ash Wednesday, we acknowledged our sin and our struggle.

We claimed our humanity and mortality.

We are all sinners… the dust of the earth.

Had we lived in the days of Noah, we would have been destroyed by those flood waters.

If we had followed the gods of the Babylonians, or the Greeks, or the gods of this world who demand performance and success – our only legacy would have been death.

But you know what?

We don’t follow the gods of this world…

we follow the God of the Universe.

And that great, amazing and powerful God looks down upon us,

specks of dust though we are,

sinners one and all,

and God loves us.

God reached down to the earth and took a lump of clay and formed us in the divine image.

Our God breathed his very life into humanity.

Our God is a merciful God, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Our God made a covenant with Noah that never again would all flesh be destroyed by the waters of a flood…

because our God desires not the death of a sinner but a repentant heart.

And that very same God restores all of creation, not by wiping the slate clean, but by meeting us where we are.

God takes on human flesh and is born among us.

We are dust. We are human and mortal and make so many mistakes.

But Christ came to show us a better way.

A statue of a person

Description automatically generated with low confidence — “I Delight in You” by Lisle Gwynn Garrity | sanctifiedart.org

Just a few weeks ago, we remembered the story of the baptism of Christ.

The way of Jesus begins with a repentant heart and through the waters of baptism, our sins are washed away and we are filled with the Holy Spirit.

God meets us where we are and our lives of dust are drenched with new life.

God speaks to each one of you… You are my child, and I love you.

God meets us where we are… but then refuses to let us stay there.

God refuses to let us return to those old lives and sends us off into something new.

Mark tells us that immediately after Jesus comes up from the waters of his own baptism, the Spirit drove him to the wilderness.

For forty days, Jesus stayed there.

It is a reminder of the forty days the waters covered the earth in the time of Noah.

It is a time we mark through the forty days of Lent.

And we read in Mark that Jesus was not alone.

We are never alone.

Jesus went into the wilderness and God met him there, too. Angels waited upon him.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I sure could use some angels in my life right now.

I need that reminder that God is present in my life.

I need to claim that reality that no matter what happens in the world, God loves me.

That is the opportunity we have in this season of Lent.

With all of the struggles that we face, we also have the chance to know God’s love and presence.

God is ready to meet you… right where you are… to refresh your spirit and guide you through.

And if ever we forget that reality, all we have to do is remember the rainbow.

In the midst of storms that threaten to destroy everything we have built and become, the rainbow shines as a promise that God is with us and will never let go.

I am reminded of these words from Bruce Pewer:

Rejoice in the rainbow.

It is the sign of God’s steadfast love which promises not destruction but hope and reconstruction.

It is on the basis of God’s covenant love that we dare to confront evil;

it enables us to laugh in the face of the evil one,

taking initiative and daring to be pro-active.

Against all the evil you see in the world,

against all the injustice and corruption you observe in our nation,

against all the perverse evil you see raising its sneaky head within yourself,

dare to paint a rainbow!

Paint a rainbow over your frustrating failings and wilful sins,

and over your irksome doubts and ignorance.

Over your sins within family life,

or the ugly compromises you may have had to make in the sphere of your daily work,

set that rainbow.

Project a rainbow over the motley fellowship which is the church,

with its flawed ministers, stumbling leaders and its sometimes passive congregations.

In your mind paint a rainbow

wherever flawed and lost humanity struggles to find a way of its own mess.

The rainbow is a permanent sign of God’s faithful love.

A love which not only creates, but constantly recreates and redeems.

For God so loved the world, God promised never again to destroy it, but to redeem it.

And we see it through the life of Christ, who took what was broken and made it whole.

He found in the poor, riches and in the blind, sight.

He saw God in the lives of sinners.

A picture containing text

Description automatically generated — “In Our Hands” by Lauren Wright Pittman |sanctifiedart.org

Jesus lived in the light of the rainbow promise – and showed that new and abundant life is what heals us.

And he died on the cross, so that the love of God might transform even death itself.

In the light of those promises, may you find the courage and boldness to face the pain and evil of this world, and respond out of Christ’s love. May you paint rainbows and remind the world and yourselves of how blessed we are. Amen.

[1] From the Again and Again guide, developed by Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity

No Christmas without Justice and Hope

Posted on November 29, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Genesis 38: 1-30

In Diana Butler Bass’s book, Grounded, she reminds us that our roots are far deeper than our memories.
We are shaped and influenced by generations that have come and gone, whether or not we remember their stories.

In one of my pastoral care classes in seminary we studied family systems and how the patterns and stories of our ancestors influence us today.
We were asked to map out our family tree and to notice how our actions are influenced by the stories we find.
In fact, I brought my own family system with me today… five generations worth of people who lived and loved and died.
I have discovered through this process the strength of matriarchs, the importance we place on loyalty and fidelity, a deep sense of togetherness, but also why I carry such heavy expectations for myself.

However, the story of my identity is not limited to this family tree.
As a person of faith, my ancestral line and spiritual heritage is found all throughout the pages of scripture.
And so during this season of Advent, as we prepare for Christ to make a home in our lives once again, I find myself remembering his own family tree.
Matthew included in his genealogy of Jesus familiar names like Abraham and Judah and David. But he also breaks with custom to specifically name four women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba.
Each week during Advent, we will be exploring their stories to discover how they shape our lives.
How do they ground our sense of purpose and identity?
How do they help us navigate the trials and tribulations of our lives?
How might we call upon these ancestors and their faith in God to help us persevere in our own journey?

Too often, we have neglected their stories and their voices, but this Advent, we will remember each one.
After all, there would be no Christmas without them.
So let’s start where Matthew does:
Abraham was the father of Isaac.
Isaac was the father of Jacob.
Jacob was the father of Judah and his brothers.
Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar.

Her story begins in Genesis, chapter 38:
6 Judah married his oldest son Er to a woman named Tamar.
If we situate her story in its context, there are some interesting family dynamics to explore.
First of all, there is a pattern in this family of God’s promises being passed down not through the eldest son, but through the favored one.
Trickery and deception is part of this family’s DNA. Abraham lied about Sarah being his wife. Jacob stole the blessing from Esau. In the chapter right before we meet Tamar, Jacob’s sons turn on their sibling Joseph, their father’s favorite.
While some wanted to kill him, Judah, the fourth born, proposed they sell him into slavery but they lie and tell their father Joseph is dead.
As this chapter begins, Judah, like ancestors before him, moves off on his own into Canaanite territory, marries, and has three sons. His seeks to establish his own legacy.
His eldest, Er, marries Tamar, but things are not happily ever after.
7 But the Lord considered Judah’s oldest son Er immoral, and the Lord put him to death.
Tamar is left vulnerable.
She has no children.
She is no longer a virgin.
Her only hope for security comes through a custom of the day called levirate marriage.

It provided a way to care for a widow and continue the family line by requiring the brother of the deceased to step in and produce a son.
But Er’s brother, Onan, was just as bad as his brother.
He refused to plant his seed and complete the task because it would diminish his own inheritance and legacy. Yet, he continued to use Tamar as he pleased.
As Tom Fuerst notes, “Onan makes an active choice to deny Tamar justice and leave her in a position of vulnerability, where her safety, identity, and future remain questionable.” (Underdogs and Outsiders, p. 20)
So, God strikes Onan dead, too.

Under the law, Judah had two options.
He could continue to welcome her in his home, betrothed to his youngest, who was still a child.
Or he could release with an unsandaling ceremony, allowing her the freedom to marry again (Deuteronomy 25:7-10).
He does neither.
He sends her away to live as a widow in her father’s home.
Helen Pearson notes in her book Mother Roots that “as long as Judah had a son, he had no right to turn her away and give her back to her father, an act of total rejection on Judah’s part and an even greater humiliation for Tamar.” (p.56)
She was trapped by an unjust application of the law.
All she could do was wait and hope.
Wait for a child to grow up.
Hope that Judah and Shelah would fulfill their promises.
And so, she waited and hope and prayed for justice.

Years passed.
Shelah became a man, but Judah failed to act.
Rather than sit back and wait and continue to be unjustly treated, Tamar made a decision.
She cast off her widows robes, put on the veil of a virgin, and went to confront him.
Maybe the confrontation itself would remind Judah of what was right and he would take her home to his son, Shelah.
Maybe she was going to press for her release and freedom by spitting in his face and taking off his sandal, as the law allowed.
Either way, there was hope and possibility for justice to be done and for her to be restored.

But Judah doesn’t recognize her.
More than that, he thinks she is a prostitute.
And he is lonely.
He’s far from home, his wife is now dead, no one will know…
And so he propositions her.

I think Tamar’s game plan changes in this moment.
A new possibility for fulfilling the law and bringing about justice comes into being.
As Helen Pearson writes, “With sacred intent Tamar acted to preserve the name and inheritance of her dead husbands, Judah’s sons. Trusting her life to the Lord of the Hebrews, Tamar believed that justice and redemption would come to her.” (p. 60)
She makes a deal with him.
And the payment for her services is secured with a deposit: Judah’s seal, cord, and staff.
They were markers of his identity, “symbols of his authority” (Mother Roots, p. 59), and would create a kind of security for Tamar if in fact this plan works as intended.
It does. Tamar conceives.

Word gets back to Judah that his widowed daughter-in-law is pregnant, and NOW he decides to uphold the law.
The law which required the death penalty for someone having sex outside of marriage.
Conveniently ignoring his own transgressions, he was prepared to condemn her.
But then Tamar produces his seal, his cord, and his staff.
26 Judah recognized them and said, “She’s more righteous than I am, because I didn’t allow her to marry my son Shelah.” Judah never knew her intimately again.
The man who was so quick to judge and condemn is now convicted by her righteousness.
When Tamar gives birth, Judah claims the twin sons as his very own.
A future is secured… not only for Tamar, but for the entire family of Judah.
More than that…
Tamar’s actions are instrumental to God’s plans for the birth of a Savior.

On this first Sunday of Advent, we often focus on hope.
But I am reminded that there can be no hope without the promise of justice.
You see, hope is the force that allows us to keep pursuing what is right in the face of everything that is not.
It is holding on to the possibility that things can and will be different.
We hope because we are unwilling to accept things as they are.
We hope because we believe that there is a future in which dignity and righteousness will prevail.

In the story of Tamar, we discover a situation in which the law designed to provide security and protection was being thwarted.
Judah and Onan and Shelah abandoned the law for their own benefit.
And by refusing to live according to the law, the person it was designed to protect became a victim.
She was forgotten.
Overlooked.
Isolated.
Alone.
Yet she clung to hope.
She remembered God’s promises and God’s laws and worked to bring about God’s justice.
As my colleague, Rev. Elizabeth Grasham writes, “Tamar shines a light into unjust, corrupt, and banal violations of the law and how they hurt women like her and she uses every resource at her disposal to get what she deserves.”

Her legacy became a part of the ministry of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
He called out hypocrisy in the leaders of his time, who used or ignored the law in order to benefit themselves and oppress others.
I think of the story of the woman caught in adultery we find in John 8:1-11.
When she is brought to Jesus by the religious leaders, they wanted to stone her… following the same law that would have condemned Tamar.
But where was the man who had also been involved?
Surely if she had been caught in the act, he had been present as well.
Was this really about the woman, or were they simply using her to make a point and advance their own agendas?
Jesus refuses to play their games and instead confronts their own sinful and guilty hearts.
God’s justice, after all, is not just about getting what we deserve when we have done something wrong.
It is about seeking to restore relationships, repair harm, and rejoice in the dignity of all people.

As we prepare our own hearts and lives for the birth of Christ this year, the story of Tamar invites us to seek justice and to persevere in hope.
Perhaps we have been like Judah: quick to act in our own self-interest without examining how our actions have harmed others.
Advent is a time for us to confess and repent and make things right.
Perhaps we have been like Tamar: forgotten or trapped by situations out of our control.
Advent is a time for us to cling with hope to the promise that God does not forget the downtrodden, but brings about justice for the oppressed.
Perhaps we are simply bystanders in this story, and I am challenged by their own inaction and refusal to name the harm.
Advent is a time for us to use our own voices and bodies to act and bring about the future that we long for, not only for ourselves, but for all of God’s people.
Advent is a time for light to shine on all places of injustice, for truth to be revealed, and hope-filled actions that prepare the way for the child of Mary.
May it be so.

God Moves In

Posted on December 24, 2017Leave a comment

“Before the creation of the world,” Ephesians tells us, God had a plan.

Before you made plans to join us here in worship at Immanuel.
Before the star in the sky led the Magi to Bethlehem.
Before the prophets first heard the voice of God.
Before the moon and the stars were set in the sky.
Before everything!
While “the earth was without shape or form” as the first words of the Bible tell us…
And while “the Word was with God and the Word was God” as John proclaims…
There. Was. A. Plan.

What kind of a plan was this?
If we look to the root of the word used here in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, oikonomia, we find that it describes the administration of a household or an estate.
It’s the same word we find at the root of ecology and economy.
It describes how something is held together… the rules that govern how it functions, what sustains it, how it thrives.
So Paul is telling us that from the very beginning, God had a plan for how all of creation, God’s household, was going to work.
God wanted to bring everything – from the highest heights of heaven to the deepest crevices of the earth – together and to make a home among us.
And God’s plan was made known to us in Jesus Christ.
Immanuel.
God-with-us.

In these weeks leading up to Christmas here at Immanuel, we have been exploring God’s love for all of creation.
When we open up our bibles to the very first chapters, we discover this plan of God’s was already set in motion.
For six days, God was building, creating, and giving life to all things in the heavens and on earth.
And God looked around and saw that it was all very good.
And then God rested.

Now, I have to admit to you. Typically, when I think about God resting, I imagine that God goes back to wherever God has come from… leaving earth to go and take a day off.
After all, that is how we treat Sabbath, isn’t it?
The day we get away from everything?
Turn off the work email… veg out in front of the television and watch Netflix… get away from everyone and go fishing or golfing?

But, what if we have it all wrong?
What if the Sabbath is part of God’s plan?
What if in that moment of rest, God is with us?

The theologian Jurgen Moltmann describes Sabbath as a time when God “begins to ‘experience’ the beings he has created… He adopts the community of creation… He allows them to exist in his presence. And he is present in their existence.” (God In Creation, page 279)
God-with-us. Immanuel.
God creates us and on the Sabbath day of rest and presence, heaven and earth are one.
That’s why we are called to honor the Sabbath and make it holy.
Because whenever we truly stop to rest and worship and simply be in God’s presence, we are participating in that amazing plan set in motion before the stars were put in the sky.
We remember that God has already moved into the neighborhood.

If we are honest with ourselves, however, we know that is not how we usually keep the Sabbath.
In fact, throughout human history, the people of God have often forgotten the presence of God in their midst.
We turn our backs on God.
We seek our own will.
We make mistakes and fail in our humble striving.
But God is not content to be driven out of our lives.
God refuses to be turned away.
God has a plan, remember, and so God acts over, and over again, in ways that bring heaven and earth together.
After all, as John’s gospel tells us, “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the light.” (John 1:5)
And so God heard the cries of the oppressed and rescued them and brought them into the land of milk and honey.
And so God called the people of faith over and over again through the words and actions of the prophets.
And then God acts by coming in really close… diving in deep to all of the mess and the struggle, the pain and sorrow of our human worldly lives.
As we moved away from God, God moves towards us.
The Word became flesh.
Immanuel.
God-with-us.

And it happened in a particular life, in a particular time, in a particular place.

Now… I don’t want to ruin the Christmas story for you… but I’ve come to realize that we’ve been telling it wrong.
And I think when we hear this story again, put back into its context and place, in many ways the story of Christmas becomes all the sweeter and more meaningful.

You see, as we read in Luke’s gospel, Jesus was born in the city of Bethlehem to parents who really weren’t anyone important. And Mary “wrapped him snugly, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the guestroom.”
When you look back to the original koine Greek, it says katalyma. This was a place where travelers spent a night… and while it could have referred to an inn, it was used to describe “the sleeping area in a single-room Palestinian peasant home” or a guest space in such a house.
The homes in Bethlehem would have had one large living space and if they were lucky, they might have had a smaller private room set aside for guests.
There would have been an area by the entrance where animals were brought in at night to keep them safe and warm.
And that large multi-purpose room would have not only had places to sit and eat and cook… but also mangers, built out of wood or hollowed out of the ground, where straw for those animals were kept.

The scene reminds me a lot of Christmas celebrations among either sets of my grandparents. You see, my dad was one of five kids and my mom was one of seven kids and the holidays were always a big deal. Everyone would come back home and the grown-ups would get the bedrooms that they slept in as children, but the grandkids would all pile together in the living room with sleeping bags and pillows. If you had to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, you had to take care not to step on one of your relatives!

If we peered back into Bethlehem on that night long ago, instead of a cold and lonely couple huddled in a shed, we probably would have discovered Mary and Jospeh surrounded by family… in fact, maybe a bit too crowded by family – remember, Luke says there wasn’t room in the guest room. Everyone had come to town to be registered in the census so aunties and uncles and cousins galore would have been packed into the room together.
And right there in the midst of it all – in a normal home, in an everyday life, in the midst of community and the animals, Christ was born.
God moved into the neighborhood.
Immanuel.
God-with-us.

I think the most powerful statement of the incarnation is the reminder that right here… on this earth, among all of creation, surrounded by our community, is where we are redeemed.
God’s plan is not that this earth will waste away and we will be whisked away to some far off heaven.
No… in Jesus Christ all things in heaven and on earth will be brought together.
Right here is where salvations shows up.

As we have been leading up to this day, this time of worship, when we remember the birth of Christ, we have also been looking ahead to a moment that is yet to come.
For, we are still waiting.
This morning, I prayed for two colleagues who lost their mothers yesterday.
This world is still filled with disease and struggle and this might be the last Christmas we celebrate with certain loved ones.
We even remember that places like Bethlehem are today places of conflict and strife.
God’s plan isn’t complete yet.

So as people of faith, we are also looking ahead to that day of new creation when the kingdom of God is made known.
John tells us that the light shines in the darkness and has not been overcome by it… and when we keep reading to the Revelation, we find hope in the words that “death will be no more. There will be no mourning, crying or pain anymore… There will no longer be any curse… Night will be no more. They won’t need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will shine on them.” (21:4, 22:3,5)
At the climax of all times, when the plan is fully complete, the heavens and earth will be brought together and God will make a home among us.

The Letter to the Ephesians may seem like a strange text to share together on Christmas Eve, but for me it is a reminder that the promises we hope for can already be experienced right now. Paul’s words here remind us that while the plan isn’t quite yet complete… it has already become a reality within the church.
You see, from the moment the heavens opened and the angels began to proclaim the birth of our Messiah, we have been invited to participate and respond to the kingdom of Glory.
Shepherds left their flocks to search out the baby in the manger.
Magi traveled great distances to greet the newborn King.
Fishermen would leave their boats to follow the Messiah.
Rich men like Zacchaeus gave away their wealth.
Scholars like Paul set aside everything they thought they knew about God to discover the message all over again and then carried it across the world.
The ripples from the birth of that one moment built the church, the Body of Christ alive in this world today.
Friends, you and I are that body of Christ right here and right now.
And as Ephesians 2 tells us, “we are God’s accomplishment, created in Christ Jesus to do good things. God planned for these good things to be the way that we live our lives.”
We have been adopted into God’s household, filled up with the Spirit of God, and called to imitate Christ wherever we go.
So fall on your knees in this time of worship.
Remember that God set the stars in the sky and the ground beneath our feet.
Imagine the birth of that child in Bethlehem.
And ask how God is inviting you today to love one another and to bring peace and joy to all who struggle.
Because it is through you… and you… and you… that the presence of God can be known in this neighborhood today, and tomorrow, and the day after that.
YOU are also God’s plan for this world.

Enough…

Posted on October 1, 2017Leave a comment

“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.

A week or two ago as some of us came into church on Sunday morning, you might have noticed a police car here at Immanuel.
Overnight, the garage in our yard was broken into and a snow blower and set of tools had been stolen. They weren’t fancy or terribly expensive, but they were ours. The garage door was damaged in the process and our amazing and excellent Trustees have been working since then to secure the garage, increase a bit of our security, and help keep us all safe.

The neighborhoods around our church are changing.
We have had quite a few shootings recently and we are not the only ones who have experienced break-ins. Whether it is cars, or garages, or houses, there has been an increase in crime.
Our neighborhood is also becoming more diverse. Economic inequality is growing. We see more people of color and more languages are spoken in our midst.
I hesitate to correlate these things, but they are all part of the fabric of what is changing around us.

I think about this reality as we start our new worship and stewardship series: Moving Out of Scare City.
Des Moines is a fantastic place to live and work and grow. It was named the #1 city for young professionals a few years ago.
Yet, we were also in the top 10 list of worst cities for African-Americans in the nation.
We have had a higher murder rate this year than we have in a long time.
More of the students in our schools are on free and reduced lunches.
One in five children in Polk County are hungry.
There are some things about our neighborhood and city that feel less safe and more scary.

I think about the poem by John van de Laar that I shared with you and our temptation to silence that fear through money, insurance, security, gadgets… by clinging ever more tightly to what we have.
When it feels like death, hunger, and the overwhelming struggles of the world loom all around us some of us think about moving out. We want to separate and wall ourselves off from the problems and focus on taking care of our own.
Some churches around us have done that.
They moved out to the suburbs.
Or their church no longer looks like the neighborhood it is situated in.
Their beautiful sanctuaries and people in fancy clothes who walk into them on Sunday mornings stand in stark contrast to the needs of the people that surround them.

In many ways, I think that was the impulse of the people we follow in Genesis this morning.
In chapter 10, we find a listing of all of the descendants of Noah as they developed into the nations of the earth. One of his great-grandsons, Nimrod, began his kingdom with Babel.
While we don’t know of the threats or dangers that surrounded them, the scripture tells us in verse 4 that they wanted to make a name for themselves.
The promise of God that came to Noah was that he and his sons would “be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth.” They were meant to spread the knowledge and blessings of God across the planet.
But this group of descendants feared being scattered over the face of the earth. They feared falling apart.
The potential threat of losing their identity, their status, their place in the world caused them to foolishly throw themselves into building a tower.
They believed that if only the tower were strong enough…
Rich and famous enough…
High enough…
Nothing would threaten them.

But this is not God’s desire or intention for our lives.
God doesn’t want us to worry about getting more and more or protecting only ourselves.
In fact, God knows that if we live our lives that way it will never BE enough.
We will always be unsatisfied and fearful.

Instead, God calls them… and us… to turn our attention away from ourselves.
God tells them they don’t need a tower – they are already enough.

And then God confuses them, scatters them, diversifies them.
Like the bloom of a dandelion becomes a thousand seeds that drift away to far flung places on the wind, God caused the people of Babel to be scattered to the winds – speaking different languages, practicing different customs, becoming different people.
In whatever place they found themselves, they began to look like the ones they were surrounded with.
They allowed the blessings of that new place to transform them.

When we look out on our neighborhood, it is tempting to see the diversity as a threat that might cause us to lock the doors of our building even tighter.
We might turn inward and stop reaching out, stop making connections, stop inviting others to join us.
OR
We could listen to that still small voice that beckons us out into the neighborhood.
We could open our doors to those who are yearning to find a relationship with God.
We could reach out in love and grace to even those who would rob us.
We could find ways to allow ourselves to be transformed and blessed by people who don’t look like us.

When I think about the legacy that Immanuel is building, I don’t see us building up a monument to ourselves, but I think about the ways we have opened our doors to welcome others in.
Not only do we gather and collect food for our neighbors through DMARC, but our front lawn is an invitation for our neighbors to come and take a book or what they might need for an evening meal.
Our building is available for other groups like Bikers Against Child Abuse to gather and plan so they can do the important work of ministry they feel called to.
We realized we had more than enough space to allow a small group of African refugees to come in and worship with one another. Under Pastor Joshua’s leadership, they became a congregation that now has a building of their own!
Our space was empty for just over a year, when this summer, a new friend called the church, looking for a place to worship.
Her name is Mu and she is one of many folks from southeast Asia, Myanmar in particular, who have built a community here. They were looking for a place where they could worship in their own native tongues… but also where they could build relationships with others.
Over the last few months, we have gradually been exploring what this new relationship might look like. Our Fireside Room was sitting fairly empty and on Sunday mornings their group has been gathering in that space to worship and pray.
They don’t have a pastor, but a volunteer from another church has been teaching in Burmese. Mu then translates into another language, Karenni. Their children are joining our children in Wednesday night activities and children’s church and we are navigating multiple languages at once!
On this day when we celebrate World Communion Sunday, I remember that while the people of Babel sought to make a name for themselves, God calls us to share the divine love with all people and to celebrate and delight in the diversity and abundance of all we share this neighborhood with.
Young and old. Rich or poor. Black, Hispanic, Asian, White.
This is what church looks like.
This is what blessing looks like.
And as we join and share and break bread, we remember that we don’t have to fear that we will not have enough.
With God’s help, there is always enough.

Spirit of Embodiment

Posted on September 3, 2017Leave a comment

Last week I talked a little bit about how I am trying to be more healthy and strong and one of the ways I am doing that is by going to the gym.
I’m there four-five days a week and each time, while the majority of the exercises we all share together, there are a few movements where you can choose which equipment you use based on your level of experience and comfort.
This past week at the gym I moved from the beginner to the more advanced movements in our exercises. And, whew, I can feel it.
My back is still a bit stiff, my shoulders ache… My dad keeps telling me that I shouldn’t get old because this kind of soreness will just keep coming, but unfortunately that’s just a natural process I’m pretty sure I don’t have the power to stop.

Many of you have joined in prayers for my dad in the past couple of weeks. He is someone who works incredibly hard… always has… but who hasn’t always taken the time to stop and take care of his body. He gets so focused on the work that is before him and us Ziskovskys also have been known to have a bit of stubbornness when it comes to our diets.
He developed a sore on his big toe, which became a deeper infection, which eventually led to an amputation of that digit. He is recovering very well – body, mind, and spirit.

You know, sometimes we think of our bodies as just the physical container that holds the real “us.” We imagine that our lives will continue without the burden of flesh someday – either through technology or computers or floating around in heavenly places.

But the scripture constantly reminds us that our bodies are incredibly important.
They are an integral part of who God created us to be.
Our flesh and blood are not earthly things that we have to shed before we get to heaven… according to scripture – these bodies go with us – in one form or another.

Some of our sloppy thinking around bodies comes from a misunderstanding of the writings of Paul. In Romans 8:5-6, we read:

For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.

Our modern ears known what flesh is… our skin and bones… those things that ache and touch and feel and move around.
We know what our spirit is… our souls, minds, that of God which dwells within us.
So, bodies must be bad and spirit must be good.

Except, the word that gets translated “flesh”… sarx… has more than one meaning. It can mean our skin and bones – but it is also used to describe the lesser parts of ourselves – the animal nature, the cravings, the wretched parts of ourselves that keep holding on to sin no matter how hard we try to do what is right.
That is what Paul is talking about… not these good, old, sometimes worn-out bodies of ours.
In fact, this passage from Romans is a reminder that God’s abundant life, that God’s very Spirit dwells within these bodies. Far from being an argument against our earthly life – this is a challenge to live up to the potential of what we can in fact DO with God’s spirit living within us.

So this morning, we go all the way back to the beginning, to that time when God made the heavens and the earth.
As Mel shared with us, Genesis tells us that God formed humanity from the dust of the earth. We were made out of the same stuff as all of the rest of creation.
But then God did something amazing.
God breathed into us.
The breath of life filled us.
The Spirit of the Lord entered our lives and these bodies became God’s body. You and I became the hands and the feet of God in the world.

That doesn’t mean that we have responded perfectly. After all, one of the first things that Adam and Eve did with the Spirit of God dwelling inside of them was to focus more on their own desires than what God wanted them to do. They lived according to the flesh, the sarx, and allowed temptation to distract them.
They sought their own comfort and pleasure before the well-being of the world or God’s creation. Their sin had consequences for not only themselves, but all of creation.

But, our scriptures tell us, God found another way to empower our bodies with the divine spirit…
God came and took on our flesh.
In that tiny child in Bethlehem, in the incarnation of Jesus, the very Word of God took on our human life.
Every aspect of our bodily existence was experienced by God.
Love and loss.
Stubbed toes and broken promises.
Laughter and tears.
Fear and grief.
Jesus experienced the fullness of our lives – and the ultimate depths of suffering and death.
And then, Jesus gave the Spirit to all who would be his disciples.

All summer long, we have been talking about the blessings of that gift and what it looks like when the Spirit dwells within us. Our lives begin to bear the fruit of love and joy, peace and kindness, goodness and gentleness, faithfulness, self-control, community, surrender, and patience.
But none of it happens without our bodies.
The Spirit cannot move without these hands and feet, eyes and ears.
When we let the Spirit of God become incarnate in OUR lives, and to fill up OUR bodies, then we are empowered to live very differently in this world.
We are set free from sin and death.
We are set free to love God more than we love ourselves.
We are set free to participate in God’s saving work in this world.

I’ve been thinking a lot this past week about what difference it has made that we spent this whole summer talking about the Holy Spirit. I’ve been wondering what it might look like to really add flesh and blood to these words that we have been saying all year long.
And I realized as I have watched not only the devastation of Harvey, but also the outpouring of human kindness just how important and precious our bodies really are.
Perhaps you were as heartbroken as I when you saw the nursing home residents under water…
and then wept for relief when I knew they had been rescued.
All across the region, people pushed
and carried
and turned to one another for support.
and now countless folks whose homes have been destroyed turn to one another and to us.
What does it mean to be the church in the wake of something like Harvey? Or the landslides earlier this year in Sierra Leone? Or the flooding in India?
PUT ON UMCOR HAT –
It means that we roll up our sleeves and we get to work.
We send flood buckets to help clean up.
We turn our sanctuaries into shelters
We build up trained helpers who have the knowledge and skills to truly make a difference.
and through a simple thing like toothbrushes and soap, we help take care of people’s bodies.

Today – you’ll have the opportunity to give a little bit extra towards disaster response by writing in the memo of your check or putting in one of the envelopes in the pew, or giving online towards disaster relief.

But, I also want you to hear two specific invitations… ways you can use YOUR bodies to make a difference.
First… if you feel called to go and help and put to use your hands and feet there is an opportunity to join one of the Early Response Teams. There are a few fliers on the back table about a training that is happening THIS coming Saturday right here in Des Moines.
Second… as a church, I want to challenge us to help take care of some of those bodies by putting together health kits. Beginning NEXT Sunday, we will have a bulletin board right outside of the sanctuary where you can indicate which specific items you will commit to bringing as we first gather and then assemble these kits.
Then, for our Fifth Sunday Service Project in October we’ll put all of these kits together and send them out with the Thanksgiving Ingathering.

Whenever we let the Spirit of God live within us, the transformation of the world begins.
Thanks be to God. Amen!

The Spirit of Patience

Posted on July 16, 2017Leave a comment

Patience is not a virtue that comes easily to us.

Some of us are built with fairly short fuses.

I think it is because we get personally invested in our work and our play and we want to see the results of our efforts.

But when things start to fall apart, instead of taking the long view – we begin to lose hope, we begin to get angry, and sometimes we behave in ways that are far from Christian.

So, this morning we are going to talk about patience through the story of two brothers… Jacob and Esau.

Esau is the older of the two – a rough and tumble sort of guy who thinks with his gut.

Jacob on the other hand, is quietly clever… a mamma’s boy who uses his wit to trick his older brother and gain the upper hand.

And Jacob uses these skills to steal the birthright and deathbed blessing from his brother, Esau.

Esau is furious at the outcome of these events. Everything has just been taken from him.

This isn’t the kind of frustration that comes from some sore muscles – this is the kind of existential angst that comes from having your very identity called into question.

As we heard in the scriptures from this morning – Esau seethed in anger against Jacob… he brooded, “The time for mourning my father’s death is close. And then I’ll kill my brother Jacob.”

It was the last straw. Esau just couldn’t take it anymore and he snapped. And Jacob had to flee for his life, far off to the land of his uncle, Laban.

Usually when we visit these stories, our attention stays with Jacob. We follow him to Paddan Aram where he works for seven years for the hand of his beloved Rachel… and then for seven more years when he is tricked into marrying Leah instead. We follow his story as he spends time increasing the flocks and in turning tricking his uncle Laban and ends up with the best of the flocks and the herds and a huge family of wealth and power.

We could point to Jacob and talk about his patience. About how in spite of being cheated by his uncle, he stuck to his promises and waited for God’s blessings. We could talk about how his persistence and trust led to his success.

But today, I want us to look back to the land of Canaan to the son who was left behind.

The fruit of the spirit we know as patience, is often translated as longsuffering.

It is the gift of being able to endure in spite of the circumstances that have come against you.

It is a hopeful fortitude that reminds us that there is light at the end of the tunnel… that if we trust and wait, the outcome we are praying for will come to pass.

Barclay’s commentary writes that patience is the grace of a person who could revenge a wrong but doesn’t.

Patience is the grace of a person who could revenge a wrong but doesn’t.

Patience is seeking an opening, waiting for the anger to pass, breathing deeply, and finding a way forward.

Patience is remembering that this inconvenience, this obstacle, will not last forever.

If patience is the grace of a person who could revenge a wrong but doesn’t… then I think the person who actually exemplifies the spirit of patience is not Jacob, but his older brother, Esau.

The first way that Esau is patient is that he doesn’t strike out immediately in anger when his brother cheats him.

If we followed their story from the time they were just children, I’m sure that there was more than just these two instances of trickery. And yet, up until this point, up until the moment that Jacob steals away his blessing, Esau has managed to not let it get to him.

The straw that broke the camel’s back is this moment where everything is taken from him and Esau is pissed off.
But, even in the midst of his anger… we might even say righteous anger… he has enough control to wait.

I haven’t played a lot of disc golf this summer, but there was an afternoon a few seasons ago when I hit four trees, in a row, on four consecutive shots, before I ever got to the basket. I hadn’t been playing well all afternoon, and my frustration was building. My temper was getting the best of me.

If we truly think about patience as having the grace to not revenge a wrong, then patience would have been taking a deep breath, not picking up my disk and chucking it at the nearest tree out of frustration for it being in the way.

Many people in today’s world who had something done to them like Esau experienced would immediately grab the nearest weapon and seek out their brother. But Esau waits. He thinks. He knows that there are some things that are more important at the moment… namely, the fact that his father is dying.

Patience means being slow to anger and while Esau became angry, he didn’t allow that anger to consume him in an instant. He thought about others. He put his anger on the back burner.

In moments when you find yourself on the brink of acting out of frustration or anger, patience is taking a moment to breathe and to pray.

It is asking for God to come into the situation and remind you of what is really important… and if necessary to let go of the anger.

Esau also helps us to understand patience in how he lives his life after Jacob flees.

He acts not out of spite, but in all things tries to follow his father’s wishes.

When his brother is sent away, Jacob is commanded not to marry a Canaanite woman. Esau is not given this expectation, but he also chooses such a bride, always looking to please his father. He seeks out his half-uncle Ishmael… and marries one of his daughters.

And that is all we hear about his life for the next 14 years.

Not once does Esau plot and plan and come looking for his brother.

Not once does he try to make good on his promise that his brother should die.

No, he moves on with his own life.

He carves out the best possible future for himself.

In spite of the situation that he finds himself in, he endures.

That is longsuffering. That is patience.

Making the most of our given situations is a very hard thing to do. We like to sit and stew and wish that things were different. We breed anger and resentment in our hearts. And we spend too much time looking into the past, instead of living into our new futures.

Yesterday, I had the honor of helping to celebrate the life of a woman named Renee. When our church began its work with the Women at the Well Re-entry Teams, Renee was the first person that we had the honor of walking with.

As I sat talking with her dad, Paul, he mentioned to me how you always think that someone else’s child would be homeless, or addicted, or abused. You never imagine that it could ever happen to your child. But it did.

From the ages of 4-14, Renee was sexually abused by a family member who also gave her alcohol. Her addiction began before most children even know what a drink is. That terrible injustice had a profound impact on her formation. In some ways, it led her to be scared of being successful – often getting in her own way. But in other ways, it provided the source of her ability to connect with people who were struggling, homeless, down and out. Her experience helped her to share her life story and God’s word with people who desperately needed to hear it.

In the midst of the hurt and pain of her life, she knew that God was with her and that her journey was not something to be ashamed of or to run away from, but it was an opportunity to share with others. As the Message translation of Isaiah chapter 50 reads, “The Master, God, has given me a well-taught tongue, so I know how to encourage tired people.” And in spite of her addiction, Renee used her humor and writing to bring encouragement to people who needed it the most. She didn’t allow herself to be overcome with bitterness and despair.

That is God’s longsuffering patience.

Finally, Esau teaches us about patience through his ability to forgive.

We sometimes think of patience as simply the ability to wait… to hold out.

But the kind of patience that God invites us to embody is that grace of a person who could revenge a wrong, but doesn’t.

Had Esau simply been waiting for the opportunity to strike back then his moment would have come when Jacob returned to the land of his father.

And Jacob knows it.

Jacob trembles with fear at the thought of the anger of his brother. He sends messengers ahead to let Esau know they are coming… it’s almost as if he is saying – I’m here… let’s get this over with.

Jacob divides up his great wealth and sends it over the river in waves as a gift to soothe his brother’s anger. He sends his wives and children over – in essence saying – all that I have is yours if you want it.

If Esau had been “patiently” harboring revenge all of those years, he would have destroyed those gifts. Those four hundred men standing with him on the other side of the river would have taken the flocks, killed his wives and children and come rushing over the river to kill the trickster brother.

But Esau was a man of godly patience.

He put his anger on the backburner of his soul, and allowed God to let forgiveness replace the hatred.

When Esau was given the chance to revenge the wrong that was made upon his life, he instead ran to his brother, fell into his arms and wept.

He looked upon all of those gifts, the wealth his brother had humbly offered, and Esau could have taken them all out of righteous indignation. He could have said, “it’s about time that I got my birthright and my power and wealth back.”

Instead, he looked his brother square in the eye and he said, “I have enough, brother… keep what you have for yourself.”

The past was forgiven. All that mattered now was their futures. The future of two brothers reunited at long last.

My family has experienced the kind of conflict and betrayal of family members that Jacob and Esau struggled with and I have to be honest that they have not yet reached the point of reconciliation.

It is difficult to forgive.

It will take time to forgive.

But I also know that when we fail to do so, we carry around with us a burden that is often too heavy to bear.

My prayer for my family and for all of us who have experienced the frustration of relationships or illness or pain is that instead of holding onto revenge, bitterness, or despair, that we would instead seek God’s patience.

It is the kind of patience that our Master has with us.

In 2 Peter, we are reminded that God is patient towards us, not wanting any to perish but for all of us to be able to change our hearts and lives (3:9).

God’s gracious spirit chooses not to revenge the wrongs we have committed.

God’s gracious spirit waits until we finally turn back towards love, grace, mercy and peace.

God’s gracious spirit shows us true patience, waiting with open arms for us to come back home, no matter how many wrongs we have done in this world.

Amen and Amen.

The Spirit of Kindness

Posted on June 18, 2017Leave a comment

One afternoon when I was serving the church in Marengo, a young woman walked into the church and asked to use the telephone.

Not a problem, I said.

We talked for a bit and I learned she had just been released from the county jail, was 80 miles from home, and no one was coming to get her. She finally got a hold of a friend or a neighbor… someone she thought might help and was chewed out over the phone. She hung up in frustration.

And so I asked if I could give her a ride. She was seven months pregnant and needed to get home. We got in my car and headed out. And on the way out the door, she asked if she could have one of the bibles on my shelf.

As we drove, we talked about our lives and stopped for food. We talked a little bit about church – but only enough to learn that she had never found one that had felt like home. She had dreams that she wanted to fulfill… but also was raising kids by herself and had put her goals on hold. But she was going home. And for the moment – that was all that was important.

An outsider might look on that situation and see a random act of kindness. Going out of your way to do something nice for a complete stranger. But what I did on Monday morning was far from a random act… and this young woman was far from being a stranger.

Each week this summer, we are exploring how the Holy Spirit moves in our lives and provides what we need for any situation. Today’s gift of the Spirit is kindness – and so we are going to wrestle with where it comes from and what it looks like, in part through the story of Joseph.

When Joseph finds himself sold into slavery in Egypt, he is purchased by Potiphar, a very important man and an official of the Pharaoh. It is like he was sent to work for one of our government’s cabinet officials.

In Paul’s letter to Titus, he writes about Christians who find themselves living under the authority of government officials. He tells Titus, “remind them to submit to rulers and authorities. They should be obedient and ready to do every good thing. They shouldn’t speak disrespectfully to anyone, but they should be peaceful, kind, and show complete courtesy toward everyone.” (Titus 3:1-2) Paul reminds Titus that it is God’s kindness and love that has saved us so that we can do these things.

The word that Paul uses here for kindness, chrestotes, describes a sort of temperament that is respectful and helpful without expecting anything in return. Rick Renner describes this attitude “being adaptable to the needs of others.”

Adaptable might be the best way to describe Joseph.

When sold into slavery, he tried to figure out what he could do to best please his master Potiphar. He served him with respect. Respect – even to the point of denying the advances of his master’s wife.

When that got him in trouble… Joseph adapted. His new home was the jail. His new task was to be the best prisoner he could be. And his willingness to be obedient and courteous put him in good favor with the jailor. Joseph was promoted in the prison system and was put in charge of the other prisoners.

And although he was there unjustly… and although he had no reason to treat the other prisoners with respect, he did. He cared for those other prisoners and did what he could to help them.

Which means that when the royal cupbearer and baker are thrown into jail… Joseph is the same person that he was the day before… he treats them with the same respect he would have treated anyone else in that prison. And his kindness eventually gets him out of that jail and in front of Pharaoh.

In Paul’s letter to Titus, we see that kindness is being ready for every good work. In that sense, it is not random at all, but an intentionally willingness to let God use you in every moment.

Here in Iowa, we are really good at being nice, but kindness is not just being nice or saying nice things… The Holy Spirit empowers us to live out a spirit of kindness so that we are ready to act on behalf of another person.

Kindness is always looking for the next person that you can bless.

Kindness is seeing others not as competition or as obstacles to your success – but as recipients of your grace.

The people who enter your life are not strangers… but they are children of God. The Hebrew word for kindness, Khesed describes how we should behave when we have a commitment to another person. And because we have a relationship with God, we have an obligation to love and care for every person we meet. It doesn’t matter if they are beneath you or the very kings and rulers and presidents of your nations. Every single one of their lives matter and the spirit of kindness urges us to look out for their best interests.

Last week, a number of us from Immanuel attended our Iowa Annual Conference. Our theme for this year is about being difference makers. Throughout our work and our worship, we heard stories of how people of the United Methodist Church are making a difference all across our state and received encouragement to come back to our churches to make a difference in our own communities.

Friends of Immanuel, you already have been difference makers. We go out in mission to make a difference at places like CFUM and under the bridges with the homeless here in Des Moines. We put together kits that make a difference in the lives of people all across this world. In your personal lives, you are part of service organizations that are making a difference for people far and wide. And before our service is over today, we will commission the Bell Tour, who have turned their musical offerings into service and who share God’s love with people who are lonely through the gift of a teddy bear or doll or stuffed animal.

And that is because the spirit of kindness is flowing through this place. We believe that God has called us, in Christ, to live lives of love and service and prayer. We believe that God is sending us outside these walls to bring healing and hope to broken people and places. We are ready for every good work.

One of the ways we have tried to live out that service this year has been through our 5th Sunday Service projects. In January, we put together care packages for some of our local police departments, in gratitude for their service and as a way of reaching out in love after the loss of some of our local police officers. We wanted to bring healing in the midst of their grief and we continue to pray for them.

At the end of April, we put together May baskets for our neighbors and our homebound folks. Those small offerings of love were a good work, a blessing, that we hoped might bring healing to those who were lonely.

We have another fifth Sunday coming up at the end of July but as we have been reflecting on what it means to go out and serve others, what it means to be ready for every good work and to act on behalf of others, and what it means to be open to where the Holy Spirit is sending us, we have a challenge for you.

On July 30th, our next Fifth Sunday Service project, we want to share 100 acts of kindness in this world. Instead of all picking the same project, you now have six weeks to get together with friends, and neighbors, and pew mates, and to figure out together what good work God is prompting YOU to do in the world.

Maybe you want to wash your neighbor’s windows and you can pull together 3-4 people to help you.

Maybe you are feeling called to visit some of our homebound folks. Round up a friend, or even better, a couple of children from the church and go and spread some joy.

Perhaps you know of a local agency that needs help with a project. Find out what is needed and take your book study group with you.

You could pull weeds, or write cards, or play bingo, or clean gutters.

All that we ask is that 1) you do it with at least one other person and 2) you make a difference in the world.

All together, we are hoping to bring about 100 acts of kindness on July 30th. If you can’t be here that day, plan your project for the week or two ahead and send us a picture of what you have done so that we can lift it up and celebrate all the ways Immanuel is making a difference in the world.

We can only do this big, amazing, and wonderful thing if YOU let God use you… if you let the Spirit of God fill you with kindness so that you can be ready for every good work.

Throughout the tale of Joseph, we discover that he is continually in the presence of God. He knew that every person he encountered was someone that God had put in his life. And so he treated Pharaoh the same way he treated his fellow prisoners.

In the gospel of Luke, Jesus tells us that even sinners love those who love them, and are good to those who are good to them. We are called to do even more… to love our enemies and do good to them. We are supposed to love all people the way God, our Father, loves us. And if God is kind and generous and gracious even when we are at our worst… well, that’s how we should treat all people (Luke 6:27-36).

As the Message translation puts it in Luke 6:36: “Our Father is kind; you be kind.”

And the loving-kindness of God saved us not because of anything worth that we had done… but according to his mercy. We were once ungrateful and wicked… and some days we still are.

Our job, as recipients of this grace and this mercy is not to go out and point to the sin in the lives of others… but to love them as we have been loved.

When that young woman walked into my church in Marengo, I knew that the Holy Spirit was prompting me to be kind.

I couldn’t begin to meet all of her needs, but I could get her home. I could buy her lunch. I could let her know that I didn’t care if she had spent a few nights in jail or a thousand years or if she was Mother Theresa – but she was loved by God and by me and she deserved to have someone help her. I could do that. Or rather…. God could do that through me.

And God can do amazing things through YOU. Live so that you might be open and adaptable to God’s promptings.

See every person you meet as a child of God, your brother or sister.

And remember that with the Spirit’s help… God’s kindness will be your kindness. Amen.