Jeremiah – Salvaged Faith

Grounded in our Neighborhoods

Posted on November 17, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7; Matthew 22: 34-40

Next week is the premiere of “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” the new movie about Mr. Rogers. I grew up with Mr. Rogers welcoming me home in the afternoon from school. We entered the land of make-believe and I heard him speaking to me and my child-like worries and curiosity. But I also saw Mr. Rogers walk around and interact with his neighbors.
Growing up on a farm in the country, I never felt like I was part of a neighborhood. At least not in the way I saw it on television. After all, there was only one house within half a mile of our own.
But we did know our neighbors. We would help one another mend fences or bring in crops. The neighbor kids and I rode the bus together. We’d do the farmer wave as we passed by … and sometimes even stop the cars in the middle of the gravel road to catch up on gossip.
Throughout this month, we are exploring what it means to be grounded in God through the relationships of our lives.
We looked at the ancestors who have grounded us in a sense of persistence, strength, and identity.
David helped us think last week about our homes and families and the sense of belonging and love we find there.
And today, we are turning back to Diana Butler Bass and her book, Grounded, and thinking about how God shows up in our neighbors.
When we think about neighborhoods today, fewer people feel like they belong in the same kind of way. Even if we live closer in proximity, we feel more and more isolated. As Butler Bass writes:
“Although we live near to one another in neighborhoods, we do not feel that we necessarily belong to one another, that we have neighborly relations with either place or people. We might live in a particular location, but it is hard to sense that our lives are with others. In a way, a neighborhood is simply the space where people reside near others; the challenge of re-creating vibrant, healthy neighborhoods is building connections between people and, in the process, turning isolated individuals into neighbors. Thus the meaning of “neighborhood” is intimately caught up with an important question, one fraught with spiritual and ethical implications: who is my neighbor? “ (p. 204).

I actually have a question for you.
Who is your neighbor?
Literally.
Do you know their names?
Do you know their stories?
Each of you, when you came in today, was handed a map. And we are going to come back to that, but I want to invite you to turn it around and grab a pencil or pen or crayon… whatever is handy.
Draw a box to represent your home… whether it is an apartment or house or condo.
Now, draw a box to represent the neighbors to your left and right.
Draw a box to represent those who are across the hall or across the street.
Draw a box or two to represent any who might live behind you.

Here is my drawing.
Now… who lives in those homes?
Who are your neighbors?
Take a minute and write down as many names as you can

I must admit, I began working on this exercise and felt a bit of shame that I didn’t know all of the answers.
I could think of at least one person on those homes, but not the whole family. I couldn’t remember Cheryl’s wife’s name. Or Chad’s. Or Mitch or Rusty’s.
And to be honest, Mitch and his family moved out a couple of months ago and I still haven’t met the new couple that moved in.
I have no clue what the names are of the people who live behind us.
And if I don’t know their names, how could I possibly know their stories?
How could I possibly begin to pray for them, much less love them as Jesus commands me?

There is a strange phenomenon that has impacted our neighborhoods architecturally. Our homes used to have front porches on them and parking was on the street. Now, neighborhoods like mine have large two car garages. We open the door, drive our cars in, and never really have to get out and interact with our neighbors.
Apartments or condos can function the same way.
We don’t take the time to get to know, or spend time with, or open our lives to the people around us.

There is that old adage that good fences make good neighbors, but the truth is, maybe good tables make good neighbors.
Hospitality and open doors make good neighbors.
In a world of increased tribalism, where we live in echo chambers and online digital communities of people who are just like us, maybe we need to go back to our scriptures and explore how ancient tribal societies interacted with one another.
Over and over again in scripture, we hear the call the be neighborly.
To be hospitable.
To open our homes and our tables to others.
To reach out the immigrant, the widow, the orphan.
To provide help to those who are in need.

Henri Nouwen, a Catholic priest and theologian noted that our society tends to look at the stranger with suspicion, expecting others to do us harm.
Instead, he talked about how our world needed to convert hostility into hospitality and turn the enemy into our guest.
Then, “guest and host can reveal their most precious gifts and bring new life to others… [hospitality] as a fundamental attitude toward our fellow human being.” (p. 220)

This is the spirit that Jeremiah invited the people of Israel to embody in Babylon.
Their nation had crumbled. Their temple was destroyed. Their identity was gone.
And their enemy had carted his people off to a strange and foreign land.
How would they live in this new place?
What would they do?
Jeremiah has incredible advice for those who are finding themselves living in the worst moment of their life…
Dive deep into your new neighborhoods and keep living.
As he wrote to these exiles who had been dragged from their homeland to a faraway place, instead of this being a letter full of lament or sorrow or anger, it is a word of life.
In this strange land, in this place of exile and hopelessness…
Build houses.
Plant gardens.
Fall in love.
Have babies.
Make yourself at home.
Don’t let this time of chaos and turmoil keep you from thriving.
Jeremiah’s advice focuses in many ways on what individuals can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but he closes this passage with one additional piece of advice.
Work for the well-being of whatever new place we find ourselves in.
He was asking the exiles to focus not just on their own well-being… but that of their oppressor, Babylon, as well.
Because their future depended upon its welfare.
He was asking them to be good neighbors.
He was asking for them to invest their time and energy into making that place the best it could be.
Not just for themselves… but for all who share this place with you and whomever might come after you.
Keep on living.
And keep on creating space for life and life abundant to happen for others.

I want to invite you to pull out that map again.
Because this is a map of our neighborhood.
This is where this congregation has been planted.
We might not all physically live here anymore, but our future depends upon its welfare.
And we are called, as a church, to invest our time and energy into making this corner of the world, our corner of the world, the best that it can be.

And so I have a challenge for you this week.
I want you to pray for this neighborhood.
I want you to pray for the people here.
I want you to pray for the businesses that share this space with us.
I want you to pray that God’s will might be done in this place
And I want you to ask God how we can better invest our lives in these people and this place.

There are a couple of ways you could do this.
After church today or later this week you could physically walk around in this neighborhood and pray for the people and places you pass.
Or, you could take this map and sit in a quiet place and run your finger slowly along the roads.
Imagine in your mind the houses and the people and pray for them as you journey along.
Choose a different route each time you sit and pray.

You can do the same thing with the neighborhood you live in.
What would it be like if you not only got to know them… their names and what they worry about and what makes their heart sing… but also if you prayed for them.
What if you prayed for your neighbors every day?

So many of us have superficial relationships with these folks.
We are afraid to talk about the things that matter to us, thinking we might offend or put them off. But what if saw our neighbors as beloved children of God who might be yearning for the same kind of spiritual connection that we are?
How might we have different kinds of conversations?
How might we share God with them in new ways?

Lamentations and Investments

Posted on July 10, 2016Leave a comment

I must confess it was difficult to pick just one passage from Jeremiah and in the light of the events of this week, I wasn’t sure that I picked the right one.

I wondered if I should have chosen from Jeremiah 8 and 9:

Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then are my people not been not been restored to health? If only my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears, I would weep day and night for the wounds of my people.

Or maybe Jeremiah 31:

A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and waiting. It’s Rachel crying for her children; she refuses to be consoled, because her children are no more.

And I find it so hard to get back up in this pulpit every week with some new tragedy or terror that must be addressed. But we have to do so.

We have to speak about the pain and suffering and loss of this world. To not turn to our scriptures and prayer and ask where God is in the midst of what is happening would be irresponsible. It is what we should do every moment of every day… and if I can’t model that for you on Sunday mornings, then I’m not doing my job.

It pains me that a world that is so connected… 24/7… on every device at our fingertips… can be so divided and at war with itself.

I look around and see so much anger and hurt. Here in the United States and all across this world.

#bluelives #blacklives #Muslimlives friends, they all matter. We all matter. It’s not an either/or. It’s a both/and.

And yet we take the pain and hurt and anger we feel and turn it back against one another for not being “on our side.”

There is only one side for us to be on. The side of life and hope and peace.

It often feels like we are living in the worst times of human history. Like things have never been this bad.

I could quote statistics about how violence… especially deadly violence is down in many different categories across this world. That seems hard to believe, but its true. But you know what… that seems to trivialize the pain that every death, every particular death carries in this day and age where we collectively witness and experience them.

I am in grateful to be preaching from Jeremiah this week because he lived in what the Jewish Study Bible calls “the most crucial and terrifying periods in the history of the Jewish people in biblical times: the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple of Solomon… [he] grappled with the theological problems posed by the destruction of the nation, and who laid the foundations for the restoration of Jerusalem and the Temple in the years following the end of the exile. In the course of his struggles to understand the tragic events of his lifetime, he tells the reader more about himself than any other prophet, including his anguish and empathy at the suffering of his people, his outrage at God for forcing him to speak such terrible words of judgment against his own nation, and his firm belief that the people of Israel would return to their land and rebuild Jerusalem once the period of punishment was over.” (p917)

It is strange to say that I feel like I’m living the lives of these prophets this summer, but maybe that’s what happens when you spend time in the scriptures.

So I’m feeling Jeremiah’s anguish and empathy when I look out at you… when I scroll through my facebook feed… when I turn on the news and see the heartbreak and frustration and hopelessness of so many people… in Baghdad, in Medina, in Baton Rouge, in St. Paul, in Dallas…

And I, too, have been crying out to God asking “How long… how long will you let us turn against one another before you come and do something to fix this?”

Jeremiah turned all of the grief of his people into laments to God… he cried out to God and I think it is appropriate on a day like this, in a time like this for us to do so. For us to lament and grieve…

And so I want to invite you into a time of lament with me. And together we will sing a response that is familiar to many… Oh – Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.

O Holy God, we have come here this morning from many places,

From east and west, north and south,

From pain and disillusionment,

From anger and confusion,

From grief and sadness,

Looking for hope.

We come together for one thing only:

To raise our hearts and voices and very bodies to God,

In the hope that the very act of raising them in lament yet in faith,

We might know the transforming and surpassing power of your love.

Oh Holy God, hear us as we cry out to you. Our pain is more than we can bear alone.

Response: Oh— Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.

Unable to forget the violence and the loss of this past week, we cry…

Mourning the loss of the innocent, we cry…

Looking for justice where none seems possible, we cry…

Outraged by the actions of those who should have known better, we cry…

Lost, looking for your guidance and direction, we cry…

Weeping with families whose loved ones will never return home, we cry…

Standing with all of those who have sworn to protect us and who gave their lives, we cry…

Desperate for the courage to speak out against racism, injustice, and oppression, we cry…

Wanting to put all this behind us and live in wholeness, we cry…

Looking for the peacemakers, we cry…

( Liturgy of Lament for the Broken Body of Christ, adapted https://www.futurechurch.org/sites/default/files/Liturgy-plan.pdf)

O God, in mystery and silence you are present in our lives,

Bringing new life out of destruction, hope out of despair, growth out of difficulty.

We thank you that you do not leave us alone but labor to make us whole.

Help us to perceive your unseen hand in the unfolding of our lives,

And to attend to the gentle guidance of your Spirit,

That we may know the joy you give your people. Amen. (Ruth Duck, BOW 464)

Friends, we cry out “How Long…”

But I think the reminder of our scripture for this morning is that God turns that “how long” back on us.

And God is asking… what are you going to do, today, to be the answer?

How are you going to be a witness, an example, a living testimony of the firm belief that though this time is painful and brutal that YOU are on the side of life and hope and peace?

How are you going to personally invest in the future you pray for?

Jeremiah found himself in precisely that situation. As he was proclaiming the destruction of the land he loved… even as he was imprisoned by the very king he was trying to get to act differently… God asked him from his jail cell to buy a plot of land as an investment in the future of the land. As a reminder that “houses, fields, and vineyards will again be bought in this land.”

The armies are at literally at the gates of the city. The siege has started. And Jeremiah is buying property.

He was investing in the future he so fervently prayed for and so firmly believed in.

I’m tired of the loss of life in our world.

Thoughts and prayers are not enough.

We have to start investing in the future we long for.

We have to figure out what it means to “buy a plot of land” today.

And I think there are a few concrete things we can do, today, to invest in God’s future.

First, we have to invest in relationships with people who don’t look like us.

My friend, Jim, and his wife, Lori, have a son who is seven years old. His name is Teddy. And because he is adopted, his skin doesn’t look the same as that of his parents.

Jim wrote to me, “I’m keenly aware that I didn’t really ‘get it’ until I was invested in the life of my son; and all of the fear and trepidation I feel for him as he starts growing up to be a young black man in America. So I know that compassion and grace towards those who don’t ‘get it’ is necessary because I was one of them in the past.”

The only way that we can ever start to live into a future of peace is to actually cross the street and talk with our neighbors who are people of color or Muslim or police officers or elderly or of a different political party.

We have to invest in personal relationships with people who are not the same as us.

Second, we have to practice humility.

We are not better than anyone else. We are not perfect. We don’t have all of the answers. And we need to create space for others to teach us, for others to lead us, for others to speak.

And part of that means that we need to look at all of the ways in which dominate conversations or perspectives and we need to step back and listen.

This past week, as the holy month of Ramadan was ending for our Muslim brothers and sisters, a bomb went off in the heart of one of their holy cities. And we barely noticed.

We can be so focused on our own lives and our own experiences that we do not stop to let go of ourselves and make room for the pain and grief of others.

Third, we need to speak the truth in love.

The first part of that is that we have to tell the truth.

We have to stop spreading rumors or hyperbole. And we need to take a moment and pause and ask about the source and if it is trustworthy. We have to take a breath.

But, we cannot be afraid to speak the truth when it is in front of us. We have to name injustice. The only way that evil is overcome is when it is brought into the light for all to see. So we cannot be afraid to name it. To speak it. To see it.

And we can do so in love.

We can disagree.

We can speak the truth and invite conversation and dialogue.

We can do so with our feet in protest non-violently.

But we should never resort to demonizing or attacking other people because of what they believe.

We have to start investing in the future we long for.

We have to invest in living differently in this world.

Just a few minutes ago, in the prayer I prayed that:

We come together for one thing only:

To raise our hearts and voices and very bodies to God,

In the hope that the very act of raising them in lament yet in faith,

We might know the transforming and surpassing power of your love.

And so I want to invite you in to a prayer with your whole body as we invest in the future God hopes for us:

Touch your forehead:

Put on the mind of Christ, a spirit of humility, encouragement, unity, and love.

Touch your ears:

That in the cries of the oppressed and grieving you may hear God calling you to another way.

Touch your eyes:

Darkened by tears, unable to see past privilege and power, blinded by hatred, that they may be brightened in the light of Christ.

Touch your lips:

Silenced by fear and the shock of news, that you might respond to the word of God and speak justice and truth in love.

Touch your heart:

Broken in pain and uncertainty, disappointment and grief, that Christ may dwell there by faith.

Touch your shoulder:

Weighted and heavy with sadness and sorrow, that your burden be eased in the gentle yoke of Jesus.

Touch your hands:

Wrung in anger and despair, that Christ may be known in the lives you touch.

Touch your feet:

That you may stand firm in faith and hope, and walk in the way of Christ.

( Liturgy of Lament for the Broken Body of Christ, adapted https://www.futurechurch.org/sites/default/files/Liturgy-plan.pdf)

Dirt, plants, and hope #gc2016

Posted on May 7, 2016Leave a comment

In the Scriptures, Jeremiah buys a field as the Babylonians are on the doorstep. It is a symbol of hope, promise, and faithfulness.

The Lord of heavenly forces, the God of Israel, proclaims: Houses, fields, and vineyards will again be bought in this land. – Jeremiah 35:15

One of the last things on my to do list before heading to General Conference was getting my garden in. Seedlings that had to get in the ground. Things that needed started before it was too late.

With all of the prep work… Which includes all of the pre-work at church so I can be gone for two weeks… I was a bit behind.

I found a few hours between yesterday and today to dig some holes and set some plants to growing.

And as I looked out at the garden… all bare dirt with teeny plants… I thought about Jeremiah. Knowing that after this time away, life will resume is a good feeling. Hope, promise, homes, work, all will be back.

The time away has a purpose.
But it is not an end.
It is not everything.

Life will be waiting.

And hopefully some lettuce and strawberries, too!

Preaching in an Empire…

Posted on August 26, 2010Leave a comment

Today, our conference “Thursday Memo for Preachers” came across my inbox. I’m usually challenged and inspired by Rev. Bill Cotton’s words – and today was no exception.

“Be appalled, O heavens, at this, be shocked, be utterly desolate, says the Lord…”Jer. 2:12

Abraham Heschel in his classic work on the Prophets describes them as persons who become excited and agitated about matter that most of us take for granted. For example, ignoring the needs of the poor. Those old boys like Jeremiah seemed to have one less layer of skin than the rest of us, and that made then sensitive to all forms of injustice.

Have you wondered what Jeremiah would be saying to the richest nation on earth’s inability or unwillingness to see that children of the poor have access to a doctor. Each Tuesday the Grace Health Clinic discovers people without insurance- victims of this cruel system we live under. And should the church speak the words of Jeremiah regarding this injustice, some would call his words socialism and dismiss his raving. Jeremiah speaks in the text for Sunday of how the people have turned away from God, the fountain of living water, and dug cracked cisterns that can hold no water.

Our first parsonage in Fairly, Texas had a cistern. Along about August it would go dry and crack open and we would buy a load of water for $5.00, and it would be gone in a day or two unless we patched the cracks, only that didn’t work so well either. Cisterns that leak are not much good. Churches that ignore the prophets’ word are like broken cisterns.

Maybe Jeremiah is too much for the church and nation this week. If so we might try Dr. Luke’s description of Jesus telling us that when we give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame.. and you will be blessed because they cannot repay you..Luke 14:13

With all of the injustice that we face in these times, perhaps both Jeremiah and Luke are too troublesome. There simply is no place to run no place to hide from these texts this week if we are faithful to the text.

One last try. Hebrews 13:1-8,15-16 This text invites us to show hospitality to strangers and we do have an open door policy. Well the door is somewhat open. But, within that text are the words “Jesus Christ the Same, yesterday, today and forever”. Those words just feel good in the mouth. The only problem, if we practice the faith of Jesus who is always the same we must include the faith of Jeremiah. Still no place to run, no place to hide. The preaching life is tough with you live in an empire. Go preach anyway!

I was especially moved by the line – “should the church speak the words of Jeremiah regarding this injustice, some would call his words socialism and dismiss his raving.”

Our church is celebrating this Sunday the missional outreach of our congregation. I am not standing up in the pulpit to preach – but I pray that these words of Jeremiah and Hebrews and Luke will not be ignored. We will gather to celebrate the ways that we have fed the hungry, and helped those in prison, and brought healing to the sick, and reached out to the poor in this past year. And I am so proud of my church for the amazing ways that they have given for those in need.

The Christmas Giving Tree for Tanzania

But something that has profoundly stood out to me is how few of us spend time with the poor, the sick, the imprisoned. We are quick with our pocketbooks or with a food and clothing drive, but there are relatively few who are willing or able to head on over to the meal site and sit down with folks. That is probably just as much the fault of our busy schedules and prioritizing of family as it is a discomfort with being around those we think might be different.

Dan Dick wrote about our “comfort-zones” this week on his blog. And it was a reminder to me that discipleship involves growing and stretching and in some cases being disoriented so that we can be realigned with God’s priorities. We all have different gifts and places of spiritual comfort, but the fullness of the experience of God is only reached if we are able to move outside of those areas and encounter God in the unfamiliar, too.

My prayer is that the testimony of those who have served with their hands and feet might be a witness this week. My prayer is that their stories might help to nudge their fellow brothers and sisters into a more active and present love of their neighbor. These are challening times in the rhetorical world. Our nation is split on ideological lines, and my prayer is that their experience would provide a far better exposition of the challenging words for this Sunday than my preaching ever could.

FF: Recharging

Posted on September 4, 2009Leave a comment

A few weeks ago my lap-top battery died, suddenly I found myself looking at a blank screen and was rather relieved to find that it was only the battery and not the whole computer that had failed. This morning a new battery arrived in the post, and suddenly I am mobile again!

After a week with what feels like wall to wall meetings, and Synod looming on the horizon for tomorrow I find myself pondering my own need to recharge my batteries. This afternoon Tim and I are setting off to explore the countryside around our new home, I always find that walking in the fresh air away from phones and e-mails recharges me. But that is not the only thing that restores my soul, so do some people, books, pieces of music etc….

So I wonder what/ who gives you energy?

1. Is there a person who encourages and uplifts you, whose company you seek when you are feeling low? I think family does this for me – especially my husband’s family. I can go there without having to be “on” or really do anything, and I know I’ll find good food and conversation and I can let it all out.

2. How about a piece of music that either invigorates or relaxes you? “I believe in a thing called love” by the Darkness – it gets me moving and pumped up

3. Which book of the Bible do you most readily turn to for refreshment and encouragement? Is there a particular story that brings you hope? I’ve always liked the story of Jeremiah planting a tree even though he was going into exile – it’s that symbol of hope in the midst of whatever we are going through and its a reminder that we will be back where we are supposed to be eventually.

4. A bracing walk or a cosy fireside? Hard choice!!!! I think a strong walk lets me work off some of my frustrations, however the fireside just melts them away!!! I’m trying to convince my husband to build a firepit in our backyard – because currently the walking is my only option. I could sit in front of a fire every single night.

5. Are you feeling refreshed and restored at the moment or in need of recharging, write a prayer or a prayer request to finish this weeks Friday Five….

Gracious God, on mornings when we don’t seem to want to get moving, help us to see the sun rising. Help us to hear the birds. Help us to know that your creation is alive and awaiting. May the wind gently push us. May the rays of light gently awaken us. May the colors of your creation open our eyes to the possibilities that this day holds. Remind us to sit – even for just a minute – to rejoice in the splendor of the morning. Help us to find even just five minutes of Sabbath with a cup of coffee, or tea, or juice, or a cat curled up on our lap, or a newspaper, or a blog entry and help us to listen for your Word in the midst of it all. Help us to be still and then send us forth to your task. Amen.

Broken Open, Filled With Love

Posted on March 29, 20091 Comment

Sermon Text: Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:20-33; Psalm 51

It takes a long time for any of us to learn something new. At Christmas time, I was absolutely set on learning how to play the guitar. I headed to the Guitar Center in Cedar Rapids and found the perfect guitar for me and bought it on the spot. My brother-in-law gives lessons, and so we worked out an arrangement that I would have a lesson each week when we came over for dinner. So far, so good.

For the first few weeks, I practiced nearly every night. It was exciting to hold this instrument in my hands and to hear the intonation of the strings. I learned a few new chords each week, but I think the more I learned, the more I realized how little I in fact knew. Every new lesson opened up a whole world of possibility and questions and soon it was almost overwhelming.

And then, I got busy. Or rather, other things in my life started creeping in and taking importance once more. My practicing suffered. I began to dread my Friday night lesson and on more than one occasion conveniently “forgot” my guitar at home. I know, it’s pathetic really, but eventually I just stopped playing.

For a few weeks now, my guitar has sat in its case in the corner of my office waiting to be played. Waiting for me to pick it up once again. And I think the thing that makes it so hard to do, is that I know I’m going to have to start all over again. I’m going to have to go back to the basics.

As I glanced over at my guitar this week, I realized that many of us could easily substitute the words “faith” or “church” or “prayer life” for my experience learning how to play. When we begin this journey and this relationship with Christ, we are so full of energy and excitement and we dive in head first, eager to learn.

But life creeps back in. Or at least, life as it was before, and if we do not give our relationship with God the care and attention it needs, before too long we find that our faith is sitting in the corner, gathering dust, rather than an active and vital part of our lives.

In many ways, I don’t know that we are necessarily to blame for this phenomenon. Maybe it’s because we are lazy, or too easily swayed by the ways of this world. Maybe it’s because we are weak. But it seems like each of us has built into our nature this inability to fully follow God the way that we want to. Call it what you want – the consequences of free-will, original sin, or the brokenness of humanity – but there is just something that seems to prevent us from truly accepting and embodying the will of God in our lives.

In Romans, Paul talks about this struggle in his own life, saying “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate… I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am!”

This problem of will, this problem of sin isn’t something that just plagues us. It isn’t something that just plagued Paul… it has plagued us as a people of God from the very beginning.

There is a bible study group in our church that meets on Wednesday mornings. And in the past few months, they have been working through the first books of our Bible. We have listened in as the Hebrew people hear God’s call and say that they are willing to follow God’s law… but then time and time again grumble, and try to do things their own way, and fall by the wayside. Over and over again, God reminds them that they are a chosen people, reminds them that they have been brought out of slavery and bondage – that they have been freed to live a new life in relationship with God. And over and over again, they fail.

In the midst of a time of failure, one of those moments in the life of Israel when they were the farthest from God and seemed irredeemable – God sent a prophet named Jeremiah into their midst.

Now, Jeremiah had some tough words for the people of God. He spoke harshly against their worship of other gods and their mistreatment of the poor and told them very clearly that God was about to let Babylon come in and carry the people off into exile.

And before too long – the things Jeremiah spoke of began to happen. The king was taken away, the army collapsed, the temple was ransacked.

But then, in the midst of their despair, Jeremiah laid aside the words of judgment and condemnation and began to speak a word of hope.

“A new day is dawning” God spoke through Jeremiah, “ A new day is dawning where I will put my law within you… I will write it on your hearts. It will not be like the promises we made in the past – promises that you could never live up to – even though you love me, and even though I was faithful. This law, this new way I will write on your hearts and I will be your God and you will be my people. I will forgive you, I will restore you, and I will remember the ways that you failed in the past no more.”

The law – the beautiful words of God that are meant to guide our actions and to help us to live in love with one another – is a good and holy thing. But try as hard as we might – I’m not convinced that we can do it alone. Left with just good intentions and our own hearts and minds and wills – the law is an unattainable goal that will always show us as wanting. None of us is perfect enough. None of us is good enough. None of us, no matter how much we love God, can do it on our own.

But something changes in these words from Jeremiah. The law is transformed from some external measure that we must live up to – to a relationship, a way of being, that God writes on our very hearts.

The Psalmist cries out – give me a clean heart, O God, put a new and right spirit within me. Take that old self of mine that never seems to get it right, and fill me up with your will. Because I can’t do it alone. Only you can sustain me. Only you can help me to do it right.

In our United Methodist tradition, when we talk about grace, we talk about it in three ways. First, there is the grace that comes to us before we even know or understand who God is – prevenient grace. Then, there is the grace that helps us to see clearly what God desires of our lives. Through justifying grace, we begin to understand just how much we have failed according to the law, and just how much God loves us anyways. And when we accept that love of God – a third kind of grace pours into our lives… sanctifying grace. The grace that will sustain us and help us to grow more into the likeness of God each and every day.

It’s easy to describe those three types of grace. It’s a lot harder to accept them in our lives. Doing so means letting go of our former lives so that the love of God can live within us. We can only receive a new spirit within, if we are willing to let our old spirit go.

There is an old Hasidic tale that relates to this struggle.

A disciples asks the rebbe, ‘Why does the Torah tell us to “place these words upon your hearts”? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?’ The rebbe answers, ‘It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay, until, one day, the heart breaks and the words fall in.’

Only when our hearts break open, only when we truly let go of our old ways, does the perfect, loving, powerful word of God fully rest in our being.

This is the message that Jesus tells his disciples over and over again – using the simple image of a grain of wheat.

Unless a seed falls into the earth and dies, it is simply a seed. But when it is planted – when the earth and water go to work on that tiny seed, it is broken open. And before long it stops being a seed and it becomes a sprout, a glimmer of new life that peeks above the soil and will grow and bear fruit.

Our lives without God are a lot like that seed. Without help – a seed will simply remain a seed. And without help, we cannot transform ourselves into what we were meant to be. But through the warm soil of community and the refreshing waters of the holy spirit, we too, can be broken open; we too can die to our old selves; we too, can find new life and bear fruit.

On my own – just me and my guitar won’t go very far. I need instruction. I need encouragement from my teacher. I need people around me who know just how much I want to play and who are willing to hold me accountable. But perhaps even more than those things, I need to go back to that first desire I had to play. And I need to let the love of music and song rest within me, place the notes upon my heart until one day my closed heart breaks and the music falls in.

Easter is for the Hopeless

Posted on March 23, 2008Leave a comment

A rollercoaster of emotions. In the sunrise service this morning we began a little bit differently and instead of starting off with the joy of the resurrected Christ, we began with the despair felt by Mary and the disciples because their Lord and Teacher was no longer with them. You see, for the disciples, Easter morning began with a hopeless situation.

Of all the things I could preach about this morning, it is that hopelessness that I think we should address. Sometimes in the halls of this church, but more often around the dinner table, or in the grocery store, or in the varied and sundry places that we gather in our lives – there is so much talk of hopelessness. We gossip about neighbors who just can’t seem to get their act together. We watch the evening news and everything seems wrong with the world.

We sit through this long, cold and snowy winter… and to be honest, I start to feel a little hopeless myself. This year has been especially bitter, and isolating. So many of our lives have been disrupted by weather that has kept us home, kept us inside and kept us away from the lives we are used to leading.

Not that if the weather was better we could have gone anywhere! With gas prices escalating, heating costs rising, and the simple cost of food going through the roof, it is a wonder we have made it through this winter at all!

After a while, the daily grind starts to take its toll and we become numb to all of that stuff around us. We find ourselves settling into the rut and start to believe that this is just the way it’s going to be.

This past year we have gotten used to a lot of things. Besides our economic situation, the violence of the world almost ceases to phase us. Our lives were rocked and our foundations shaken by the shootings at Virginia Tech last April… and yet a similar incident, closer to home at Northern Illinois University in February barely seemed like a blip on the radar.

Not to mention the violence and human rights violations occurring across our planet as war-torn countries continue to destroy the lives of innocent men, women and children. This very week marked the five year anniversary of our entrance into Iraq and often that situation itself feels entirely hopeless. It seems that no matter what we do, or maybe because of what we do, new groups and new people spring up to fight, instead of searching for ways to work together and to rebuild lives.

Now, I know what you are all thinking… Pastor Katie, it’s Easter morning… isn’t this supposed to be a happy day?! You know what… it is! But I think we also get so bogged down in the problems of our lives, in the problems of our country and the problems of this world that we forget the real promise of Easter!

I think that too often, Easter morning comes with it’s beautiful flowers and it’s joyful music and lovely tables set with ham and we enjoy it for a few hours, but then on Monday morning – life is back to the way it was. Nothing has changed. Nothing is really any different.

A few weeks ago, as we shared with one another the story of Lazarus, I read a poem by Wendell Berry. And the last line of that poem said: “Practice Resurrection.” Time and time again in the Christian faith we are called to be a “resurrection people” to carry the joy and the hope and the promise of the resurrection with us throughout our lives. Both of those two things mean that what we experience on Easter Sunday has to stay with us longer than dinner time.

In our gospel reading this morning, Mary goes to the tomb and she is not going with expectant hope. She is going to bring spices and oil and to continue to prepare his body for burial. You see, Jesus was laid in the tomb just before sunset and the beginning of the Sabbath Day and so the women did not have enough time to properly lay him to rest. So as the sun rose on this Easter morning, Mary Magdelene went to the tomb to mourn, to pray, and to say her good-byes.

She was someone who desperately loved Jesus. He was her Teacher and her Master. He offered her new life and a brand new beginning when he cleansed the demons from her life. And ever since that time, she had followed him faithfully. Then, in one fell swoop, everything that she had begun to put her trust into was taken away. Her Lord was gone. The disciples who followed him had scattered and those who remained were hiding out in fear of the Jewish authorities. Mary had no one to turn to and no where to go.

The only thing she knew to do was go to that tomb and rehearse a ritual practiced by Jewish women for centuries. She would go to the tomb to honor Jesus and to mourn for him properly.

But as our scriptures this morning remind us, when she arrived, everything was in disarray! The stone was rolled back and her Master was no where to be found! His body was gone! Desperately, she ran to the house of one of the disciples for she knew that some of them would be there… They have taken away his body! She cried out…. They have taken him and I don’t know where they have laid him!

Two of the disciples, run back to the tomb with her and find her story to be true. They enter and find the burial clothes there also, neatly folded and placed on the stone. They know that something has happened… but none of them really knows what it means.

I think many times in our lives, this is how we experience Easter. We know that something happened a long time ago, and we know that Jesus was raised from the dead, and we know the whole story and how it is supposed to go. But we don’t REALLY know what it means. We don’t understand the pain and sorrow of Good Friday because we all know how the story ends. Jesus comes back to life, is raised from the dead, saves us all and goes to be with God forever. Amen.

But that isn’t the end of the story! That is barely even a glimpse of the reality of what God is doing! The disciples knew something had happened, maybe even understood that Jesus was alive, but none of them were prepared for how their lives would change.

The power of the Easter resurrection didn’t just bring Christ to life. The power of the Easter resurrection took a rag tag bunch of disciples who barely knew their left from their right as far as following Jesus was concerned…. And turned them into apostles. It turned these doubting, stammering, disobedient fools into the leaders of a movement that would transform the world! When Christ rose from the dead, the Body of Christ that is the church was brought to life – a community was formed that would love and cherish and carry on the mission and the ministry of Christ!

Each and every single one of us is a living testimony to the power that Christ’s resurrection had on our world. Each one of us is who we are today and is in this place this morning because those first disciples experienced the risen Christ. And because that experienced so radically changed their lives that they had to tell others.

This morning is so full of images – the empty tomb – the voice of angels –

Mary’s encounter with Jesus – the promises made through the prophets coming true. It is so rich – so full – so basic to who we are as an Easter People.

Friday – sad Friday – the day we call Good Friday – is brushed aside in one glorious moment of realization. As Mary stood in that garden weeping out of desperation she heard her Master call her voice. One moment of startling fear and overwhelming joy – a moment of holy awe – as the significance of what is seen – and what is unseen comes crashing in.

Jesus is Risen. Death could not hold him.

And if it cannot hold him, it cannot hold us.

All that Jesus said about life and death

all that was understood only as idea – as a concept – as a vision

is made real in that empty tomb

and in that encounter in the garden.

Those disciples heard Jesus talk SO MANY TIMES about his death and resurrection and it just never sunk in. They couldn’t understand the promise because they never believed it would happen. So when Jesus shared his final meal with them on Thursday night they let him down and failed to remain faithful. And when Christ was crucified on Friday afternoon, they were paralyzed by their unbelief and forgot the promises he made to them. They couldn’t see past their own pain to remember the promise!

All that Jesus said about life and death

all that was understood only as idea – as a concept – as a vision

is made real in that empty tomb

and in that encounter in the garden.

Today, we share in that promise.

We share in the promises made to Children of Israel and to the entire world through the Prophets.

We share in the promises made to the disciples and to all who listened to Jesus as he walked towards his death upon a slab of wood.

We share in it – for the word that he spoke to them – and to us — is made true and real by what we testify to this morn, it is made true by the resurrection.

And more yet – it is made true by the testimony of our hearts. Hearts here among us – this very day – who have been touched by the spirit of the living Lord. Hearts here which have heard Jesus knocking upon the door and have opened that door and had him come in and dine with them. Hearts that encountered the risen Christ even today, thousands of years after the stone was first rolled back and the tomb shown to be empty and our Lord risen.

Hear again the words from the prophet Isaiah… the promise to each one of us:

For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the

former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But

be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about

to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight. I

will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more

shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of

distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives

but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a

lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered

a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered

accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they

shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not

build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat;

for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and

my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands. They

shall not labour in vain, or bear children for calamity; for they

shall be offspring blessed by the LORD– and their descendants as

well. Before they call I will answer, while they are yet

speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall feed

together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the

serpent–its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy

on all my holy mountain, says the LORD.

The prophet Jeremiah, even as his city was being ravaged and destroyed by foreign countries, even though he knew that his nation was being torn apart, went out and bought a small plot of land and planted a tree there.

THAT is what it looks like to trust in the promises of our God. THAT is what it looks like to celebrate the power of God and the power of new life, even when everything around us seems so hopeless.

So what is this Easter morn?

It is God’s promise of a new day

It is God’s promise of a new life

It is God’s promise of a new world

coming to pass in our midst.

Jesus is risen. Death could not hold him. And it will not hold us either.

Mary, in the midst of all of her desperation and mourning saw Jesus standing before her but did not recognize him. She couldn’t see the promise that was right before her eyes!

Jesus even called out to her “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” But she does not recognize him.

Jesus is risen. Death could not hold him.

I think that Christ is calling out to us all the time, every day. He asks us constantly what we are weeping for. He longs to wipe away the tears from our eyes. And he wants us to see him, to recognize him as the Jesus who is alive – the Jesus who is risen – the Jesus who has the power to bring a new creation to bear on our lives. But our hearts are often so slow to believe, to trust, and to accept that he is standing before us.

There are so many things in our lives that we could feel hopeless about. Loved ones who die too young, People who work away their lives for a wage that won’t even put food on the table. Homeless families… including the 700 children who are homeless in Cedar Rapids, Iowa alone.

But the promise is that “No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime… They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.”

Wherever in your heart there is weeping, Christ promises to turn your tears into laughter.

Jesus is risen! Death could not hold him! And the forces that tear us apart in this world will not defeat him either!

Christ has risen! And we… as the body of Christ, in this time and in this place… are called to continually live our lives as a beacon of that promise!

We are to be like the prophet Jeremiah, who planted a tree, even though the world around him was falling apart. We are to find small ways to live out and practice the resurrection power in our world today.

Christ is risen! Let us crown him the lord of Life, the Lord of Peace and the Lord of Love and may we believe in his power to truly transform our lives.

Amen.