Jesus Christ – Page 2 – Salvaged Faith

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

Follow The Star: Authority

Posted on January 31, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Mark 1:21-28

Our gospel lesson for today begins with Jesus teaching in the synagogue.
And the people of Capernaum were astounded by his teaching.
It wasn’t simply what he taught, but how he taught it.
Jesus exuded authority: power, freedom, ability…
The words were not simply something he had read, but something he possessed.
They brought into being the reality they proclaimed.
As the Message translation describes it, “They were surprised at his teaching – so forthright, so confident – not quibbling and quoting like the religion scholars.”

I must admit, I almost start to take offense to that.
After all, I’m one of those religion scholars, those teachers, trying my best to make sense of the text and what I know and what I don’t know.
You are a scholar, too.
You are a theologian, taking the scriptures and your prayers and studies and doing the best you can to make sense of it all.
And we all quibble and quote.
We have our favorite texts and verses and we rely upon the teachers and leaders who have formed us.
We turn to people whom we believe have the authority to guide us… and we trust them to help us gain knowledge.
But it is also a world of social media and fake news that is so polarized it feels like we are living in alternate realities.
Something happens in the world and we interpret the events completely differently.
What is truth?

In college, I took a class on epistemology. Epistemology simply is the study of knowledge and it explores what is a justified belief and what is simply opinion.
C. I. Lewis claimed that knowledge, or truth, comes from our experiences, but those experiences are always interpreted through our definitions or concepts.
For example, two people might experience an hour very differently… for one it passes quickly and for another it drags on. But because they share the concept that an hour is sixty minutes and have devices that monitor that span of time, they can meet after an hour has passed.
We come to share concepts and definitions, “by the business of living together and the methods of naming, pointing, and learning by imitation,” Lewis writes.
And so, we come to understand together, collectively, that this is green…
The sky is blue… tomorrow is Monday…
An action is good…

But when I follow one teacher, and you follow another…
When my social media feed is filled with one perspective and yours looks completely different…
When I get my news from one source, and you another… are there any concepts or definitions or knowledge that we share?

We used to have something called the fairness doctrine in broadcasting. It was introduced by the FCC in 1949 and it required broadcasters to do two things: One, they had to present controversial issues so that the public could be informed. Two, they had to do so in a manner that was honest, equitable, and balanced.
In effect, it created shared concepts because we named and pointed to the same issues in the world and at least had the same language to talk about them, even if there were differences of experience.
However, the policy was ended in 1987 and it is just one example of the many ways we have stopped living together.

We are swimming in a world of relativity, separateness, and disconnection.
We no longer share the same concepts or definitions.
Racism…. Socialism… sexism… accountability…
What do those words mean? What is true and real and good?

Maybe we, like the people of Capernaum, are longing for a greater authority.
Some truth with a capital “T.”
Words that have power to not simply fill the air, but to name and change reality.

As we read last week, Jesus came into Galilee announcing, “Now is the time! Here is God’s kingdom! Repent, change your hearts and your minds, and trust this good news!”
The gospel is good news.
It is truth and knowledge and proclamation of reality.
He entered the village and, on the Sabbath, sat down in the synagogue and began teaching.
And God’s Kingdom began to become real for them.
It had power and life and being and it was present in their very midst.
And the people were compelled by this reality to repent, to change their hearts and minds.
After all, Jesus was calling them to relinquish the knowledge that could be quibbled over to embrace something that was really and actually true.

But what happens to the power of ignorance or division when the Kingdom takes hold?
What happens to the power that denies life and sows misinformation?
The power that diminishes the value of another person?
Mark names that power… that spirit… “unclean.” “Evil.”
And when confronted with the words and the teaching of Jesus, that spirit began to fight.
Right there in the synagogue it cried out, throwing the community into chaos, “What have you to do with us? Have you come to destroy us?”

We don’t know how long that evil spirit had held power over that person and that community.
We don’t know the kind of damage it inflicted.
What we do know is that Jesus acts.
Jesus rebukes the spirit, stops the harm and expels it from their midst.

God has given us “the freedom and power” as our United Methodist baptismal vows proclaim, “to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.”
How can we fight back against forces that have separated and trapped us in cycles of misinformation and suspicion?
So what can we learn from Jesus about how to resist the power of division in our midst?

Jesus takes away its voice and drags it into the light of day where it dies.
Jesus rebukes it, shouting, “Silence! Come out!”

Now, today, in this moment, we see that silencing happening all around.
Cancel culture, after all, is rampant from people on all sides.
If we don’t like what someone has to say or what they believe, we simply unfollow them.
We ban them.
We scroll past.
We end friendships.

I want to start by saying that boundaries are important.
If you are being harmed by what another person is saying or doing, it is absolutely appropriate to separate yourself and to no longer allow their words to have power over you.
But so much of the kind of silencing we experience today simply reinforces our echo chambers. It drags us deeper into our separate spheres and we begin to see other human beings not as full and complex people but as a sound byte that can be dismissed.

And that is why I think we have to pair Jesus’s command to be silent with his call to come out.
To place our experiences and our knowledge in the light of day where we can hold it up to God’s intentions for our world.
Where we can truly compare our sources and our information with humility, an understanding that we might not have the full picture.
It is a call to re-engage.
To be present with one another.
To listen and seek to understand those we disagree with.
Jesus never asks us to set aside our experiences and perspectives, but to allow them to interact as we discern together where the authority of God our Creator and Redeemer is active and moving.
It is a call to share life with one another.

This week, our daily devotions will explore scriptures relating to God’s authority.
We’ll think about people who spoke God’s word into our midst and times when we had to set aside what we thought was true based on new information. We’ll think about what it means to humbly remember we are not the center of the universe.
But perhaps the most important scripture about authority we will read is the last one.
Paul tells us in his letter to the Corinthians that we can have all of the right words and all the right answers, but if we have no love for others, all of that knowledge and truth and experience is for nothing.
Love is the force that created us.
Love is the power that unites us.
Love is the reality that truly offers life.

There is an organization called Braver Angels that is working to try to bring people together in these incredibly divisive times. This week in its newsletter, they highlighted a relationship between a Quaker and a QAnon-believer in Maryland.
Their goal is not to change the other person, but to understand where they are coming from. The author notes:

“They don’t agree on much, though both believe in the importance of integrity in elections and media. But their definitions of integrity differ… [One of them] suggested they decide on a glossary, so that they actually speak the same language.”
These two people are taking the time to listen to one another and to build a common life.

That is the kind of Kingdom that Jesus calls into being.
It is an invitation for people who are radically different to build a common life.
Jesus calls sinners and saints.
Young and old.
Jews and Gentiles.
Blue-collar fisherman and white-collar government workers.
Men and women and people of various ethnic backgrounds.
Pharisees and Zealots.
And we come to learn that we need one another.
We are called to reorient our lives under an authority greater than any of our own experiences.
An authority that created the world and everything in it.
An authority that commands us to love.

So maybe in the coming days and weeks, wherever the forces of division or hatred rear their ugly head in this world, accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist.
Speak out loud if you have to: “I see you. I know what you are. And I refuse to let you separate me from others.”
Choose instead to cast it into the light of God’s love.
Love that puts others first.
Love that doesn’t hold grudges or delight in others mistakes.
Love that seeks the truth.

The Real Housewives

Posted on September 27, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Romans 16:1-16

Last week we explored the nuts and bolts of what a house church was, how it functioned, and who was part of it.

One of the things I lifted up is that while occasionally they would have had traveling preachers and apostles come visit, for the most part, these communities spent time reading and listening to scripture together.
They read from what we now consider the Old Testament.
And they received and read aloud letters from those who had known and experienced the good news of Jesus Christ.

The Book of Romans is one such letter.
Before Paul ever has the opportunity to travel there, he sends along his instruction and his teaching.
He wanted to share God’s good news with them and help them navigate some of the struggles they were experiencing.
And so for Christians in Rome, the very first time they would have heard these words, would have been gathered together in their homes.
It would not have been something they sat down to read.
It would have been something they heard.

My colleague Carol Ferguson writes about what it must have been like:

Can you imagine you are alive in 56AD, in the greatest city in the world, the heart of the empire, a place teeming with people, a place teeming with religious faiths and shrines of every description, a place where the spoils of nations are paraded through the streets, where a few coins will buy you a spot to watch gladiators kill each other for fun, where emperors are worshipped as gods?
Can you imagine that you are gathered together with a motley crew of compatriots, some wealthy and some poor, soldiers and serving girls and socialites, some with Jewish roots and some Gentile, because you’ve heard a letter from Paul—the Paul, the one whose letters are prized across the empire—is on its way?

Close your eyes and picture yourself there…
Crowded together others in a home, some standing, some reclining, children running around…
You can smell the food cooking from the nearby kitchen and the sweat of the day’s work…
And then you hear a voice reading aloud the words of Paul…

A quick question… as you place yourself here… whose voice did you hear?
Was it a man’s voice?
It’s Paul’s letter of course, so maybe that feels natural.
But when we turn to the words of Romans chapter 16, what we find is the introduction of Phoebe.
Paul takes time here at the end to lift her up and introduce her, giving her authority and credibility.
He asks them to welcome her and take care of her.
This was a common practice, so that the community receiving the letter would know that this person has the authority to not only speak, but also interpret what was within.
Jann Aldredge-Clanton describes Phoebe as a coworker of Paul’s “and as a minister of the church in Cenchareae… [she] led the community and presided over worship. And independent woman of some wealth, Phoebe was also a benefactor of Paul and many others.” (The CEB Women’s Bible, p. 1432)
And so after she carried that letter from Paul onto the streets of Rome, she would have been welcomed likely by Prisca and Aquila and the “church that meets in their house.” (16:5 CEB).
They would have gathered to sing and pray.
And break bread.
And then Phoebe would have stood in their midst and spoken.

Lest we think this was some kind of fluke and Phoebe was just one woman with a particular exceptional gift, the introductions at the end of Romans continue.
Paul gives his greetings to the leaders of the house/churches throughout this region, to other ministers of Christ who have been traveling, to friends he has met along the way and those who are family.
There are twenty-nine names listed here…
And ten of them are women.
Phoebe… the minister who brought the letter
Prisca… who is mentioned before her husband as the leader of the house/church… someone who was known to help mentor visiting teachers like Apollos.
Mary, the twins Tryphaena and Tryphosis, Persis… all women who have labored in Christian ministry for God.
Junia, who along with her husband, was not one of the 12 apostles, but possibly part of the 72 sent two by two by Jesus in Luke 10.
Rufus’s mother, possibly the widow of Simon of Cyrene who carried the cross of Christ.
Julia, who likely hosted one of the house/churches in Rome with her spouse.
Nereus’s sister, who probably played the same role.

I think we have typically thought back to this time and considered the place of women to be subjugated to men.
We have imagined them as housewives who cared for the family and took care of the home.
We couldn’t picture women active in ministry and if we did, they were always eclipsed by the work of those famous male apostles.
It feels relatively new for us to consider female as clergy.
In the United Methodist tradition, while John Wesley licensed women to preach, and women were ordained in the 1800s, they were only granted full clergy rights in 1956.
In other traditions, leadership by women is still rejected.

But scripture, history, and archeology paint a really different picture.
We find women leading ministry not only in the early church, but also in Jewish and Roman cultic traditions as well. Gravestones identify women as leaders of synagogues, elders, priests, and more.
In addition, many women ran their own household’s without mention of a husband, like Lydia an independent businesswoman who hosted Paul in Philippi, or Nympha who led the house church in Laodicea.
The stories of these women and others throughout scripture, show that women were essential ministers of the gospel.
They not only established house/churches, but also carried the good news from place to place.
It wasn’t some egalitarian dream world – but there was a place for the leadership of women.

Yet, Carol Ferguson notes:

As Christianity became more structured, more institutionalized, rules forbidding women from preaching or teaching—which itself suggests that it was happening—begin to appear. And in time the church was able to forget, and argue that women couldn’t lead because women had never led—a circular argument that short-circuited thousands of years of gifted, called leaders from leaving their mark on the church.
Sometimes you can still see the eraser marks in our scripture.

Ferguson lifts up a few examples.
First, there is Phoebe, herself.
In the original Greek, she is called a diakonos. It is used in talking about commissioned ministers of the Gospel, ministers with significant status, and deacons who had official duties within the church. It can also mean someone who serves another.
I looked this passage up in my favorite bible this week and the CEB translations reads:
I’m introducing our sister Phoebe to you, who is a servant of the church in Cenchreae.
It feels more like someone who cares for the church, instead of leading it.
With that one choice of how to translate a word, Phoebe becomes a servant rather than an official minister of the gospel, even though the context reminds us that as a wealthy benefactor, Phoebe herself would have had many servants in the traditional sense.

Someone else who gets erased from this passage is Junia.
Paul tells us that she came to Christ before him.
She was imprisoned with him for the crime of being a Christian.
She, alongside her partner Andronicus are called not just apostles, but prominent among the apostles – those who are sent by Christ to share the good news.
But for centuries, the name Junia was translated as Junias.
Theologians argued it had to be a man’s name, because women couldn’t be apostles.
We imposed our understanding of the place of a woman upon the text, rather than let the text change how we thought about the ministry of women.

I recently have been studying the sisters, Mary and Martha, from Luke’s gospel.
There, too, we have an image of women who are busy doing housework, serving the male disciples… or at least Martha is doing the serving.
Mary is described as slacking off, listening to Jesus instead.

But the word used in this passage to talk about the work Martha is doing is diakanos.

Mary Stromer Hanson lifts up a compelling argument based on this text.
Earlier in this chapter, Jesus sent out thirty-six pairs of disciples in ministry, likely including women, maybe even Junia and Andronicus.
They are to go out into towns and spread the good news and to establish themselves in a home… the very first iterations of this house/church model.
Jesus then himself enters a village and is welcomed and received into a home by Martha.

Now… here is where Hanson’s argument gets really interesting…
While modern translations say that Martha had a sister, Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.
Grammatically, this could instead be translated:
Martha had a sister, Mary, who also sat at the foot of the Lord.
Meaning, they both were disciples of Jesus who listened to and followed his teaching.
Martha, it goes on to say, is distracted….
Distracted by what?
My bible says “getting things ready for their meal.”
The Message says, “by all the things she had to do in the kitchen.”
The King James Version reads, “Martha was cumbered about by much serving.”

But do you know what the word used here is?
Diakanos.
What if, Hanson argues, Martha, who has opened her home, is not preoccupied by the cleaning and the cooking… but by the ministry she is supporting in her own house/church.
In the community that she has been called to establish to spread the good news of Jesus.
Martha is suddenly transformed from a frantic housewife into a dedicated minister of the Lord.

We imagine Mary sitting there besides Jesus, refusing to help, but Hanson argues that grammatically, it doesn’t actually appear that Mary is there at all.
She has left.
Possibly, Mary was one of the seventy-two, sent out by Jesus in this act of ministry, while Martha supported that ministry from her own home.
Martha isn’t worried about Mary not drying dishes.
She claims to be overwhelmed by her work of ministry in the community, but Jesus sees past that concern to offer a word of comfort:
You are troubled about your sister being away. You are worried about what might happen to her out there in this risky ministry of evangelism. You want her to come home and serve in this way instead.
But she has chosen a good thing.

This long list of leaders at the end of Paul’s letter to the Romans are filled with servants of the Lord, ministers of the Gospel, leaders of the church.
Today, looking back, we might find the inclusion of so many women surprising.
But they simply were doing their part to bring folks together around the good news of Jesus.
Whether that meant traveling or opening their homes or preaching or leading.

And that’s what we all have done in these past six months.
We have opened our homes to God and led the people we love in the faith.
I love the way my colleague, Rev. Carole Ferguson describes this transition.
Whether or not we thought of our selves as leaders, we’ve all be worshipping in house/churches.
And you have made it happen.
You set up Zoom or Facebook so it would stream to your TV.
You brought your spouse a cup of coffee to sip during worship.
You yelled at your kids to come and watch.
You typed out prayer requests for friends and loved ones in the chat.
You lit a candle on your desk.
You sang along to the hymns.

Paul wrote a letter to the community of believers in Rome, but it was each of those twenty nine names listed at the close of this letter that did the hard work. They were the ministers.
They stepped up to lead and worship and support the ministry.
I can stand here and write and deliver a sermon, but you are the leaders of this church.
So, say hello to Karen.
Say hello to Dawn and Scott.
Say hello to Herb and his mother.
Say hello to the children in the Wright home who lead us in worship.
Say hello to Shirley and her sister-in-law, Sandy and Bob.
Say hello to the church that meets at the home of the Lockins and Osthus and Gordon families.
We have 255 households in our congregation, so this could take a very long while, so I will just say this:
Hello and greetings and love to all of you, faithful ministers of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Keep up the good work.

Sermon adapted from: https://carolhferguson.com/2020/07/12/ladies-of-the-house-church/

The Fragility of our Connection

Posted on June 7, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Philippians 2:1-8

Arches National Park is perhaps one of the most iconic and picturesque of the spots we will visit.
Three hundred million years ago, give or take, this land lay beneath an ocean. With the ebb and flow of the waters, salt deposits built up hundreds of feet thick.
Eventually, pressure turned some spots turned into sandstone. But as water eroded away the salt but not the harder rock, sandstone was left hanging over these empty gaps, leaving nearly 2,000 arches (America’s Holy Ground, page 31).

But as we mentioned as we began today, these arches are not sturdy or solid. Landscape Arch has seen a number of collapses and Wall Rock Arch fell apart one night in a huge pile of boulders in 2008.
They were formed under pressure and eventually pressure from the elements and human interaction will cause these connections to crumble.

When we planned this series, I wanted to focus on the strength of our connections, but I must confess that yesterday as I was thinking about this sermon I spent most of my day weeping.
Because the connections between us in this nation have never felt more fragile.
Because the tension in the air is palpable.
Because every post or story feels like to fans the flames of division.
And while I try to do better, and be better, I’m guilty of it, too, as I think about conversations I’ve had this week.
I so desperately want to be able to find words to make things okay, to soothe the wounds of our relationships, to seek peace, and there isn’t anything I can say.
I can’t make it better today for my neighbors who are black, indigenous, or people of color.
I can’t make it better today for my neighbors who are law enforcement.
There is too much that is broken and has already crumbled.
We can’t look away and pretend we didn’t see.
There is too much work that has to be done to acknowledge the pain and to hold one another accountable before we can even begin to live in peace.

This Sunday is Peace with Justice Sunday in the United Methodist Church.
Our Social Principles remind us that, “As disciples of Christ, we are called to love our enemies, seek justice, and serve as reconcilers of conflict. “ ¶165.C
As I have heard chanted at various rallies… not just this past week after the killing of George Floyd, but anywhere faithful people show up to seek change:
“No Justice. No Peace.”
As we state for this day, “…political and social turmoil can be caused by a number of issues including economic disparity, environmental degradation, gender inequality, racism and xenophobia, and illness and disease. If we want peace, we must be committed to disrupting these conditions and systems that perpetuate injustice.” (https://www.umcjustice.org/what-we-care-about/peace-with-justice)

Next week, our confirmands will stand up and claim their baptismal vows.
Not only will they take responsibility for turning away from their own sin and failings…
They will claim the freedom and power God gives them to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.
We wrestled together with what that means, and all of their questions really got me thinking about what it looks like for me to claim that freedom and power, too.

What does it look like for us to resist those systems of injustice?
How do we begin?
How do we create the conditions for peace?
How do we seek justice?
How do we strengthen our fragile human connections?

There isn’t anything I can say in one sermon that can undo or fix systemic racism.
But we can talk about what each of us can do right now in our own personal relationships.

I found myself turning to Paul’s letter to the Philippians.
The church was experiencing a quarrel between two of their members – Euodia and Syntyche. We don’t know the details, but it had the potential to tear the church apart.
And so Paul writes to them these words… this is the Message translation:

“If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ,
if his love has made any difference in your life,
if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you,
if you have a heart,
if you care –
then do me a favor:
Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends.
Don’t push your way to the front;
don’t sweet-talk your way to the top.
Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead.
Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage.
Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself…
he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave…” (Philippians 2:1-7)

When there is conflict and division in the world, the only way we can overcome it, Paul writes, is by putting ourselves to the side.
We have to start focusing on what is good for the other person.
We have to humble ourselves.
We have to stop and pause and focus on the love we have for Christ and other human beings FIRST.
That is the agreement that Paul is talking about… that we would agree in Christ. That we would agree to be like Christ. That we would agree to look upon one another with love.

I find it interesting in the message translation that Eugene Peterson uses the word “privilege” to describe how Christ emptied himself of his status as equal with God.
The Greek word Paul uses here, rooted in kenosis, describes what it means to divest yourself of what rightly belongs to you.
The only way that God in Christ Jesus could reconcile with us…
The only way that God in Christ Jesus could repair the broken connection with humanity…
The only way…
Was for Jesus to set aside his privilege and power and status and to become one of us.
And then, to set aside his life and to die for us.

Paul sees the division in that community, sees the conflict between these two women, and he asks them to be like Christ.
The only way we can have reconciliation and peace is if we let go of trying to be right.
We have to stop focusing on what is best for ourselves and start asking what is right for others.
I think it is important to note here that not all power and privilege is equal.
Jesus took on the status of a slave… and for slaves, for the oppressed, for those suffering injustice… there is no lower for them to go. There is no power to relinquish.
So part of adopting the mind of Christ is becoming aware of the systems in our society that have created differences in the way people are treated and the advantages they have.
We have to look at the ways inequalities are slowly but surely eroding the connections that we have built with one another.
How are our health systems, education systems, economic systems creating the conditions for life for our neighbors?
Where we benefit unequally from those systems, we are not called to dig in deeper, but to work to help others get ahead.

When Paul asks us to put on the mind of Christ, he is asking all of us to equate ourselves, to humble ourselves, to make ourselves lowly.
To walk in the shoes of those who have nothing left to lose.
To listen.
To learn.
When we live this way… putting others first, setting ourselves to the side… it has a transformative impact on the rest of the world.
As Paul goes on to write in the next verses, again this is the Message translation:

“Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night…” (2:14-16)

We are to carry this mind of Christ with us everywhere we go.
In the letters we write to legislators.
In the attitude we strike towards those who disagree with us.
At the ballot box.
In the places we chose to shop.
With our families.
In the ways we stand up for those who are crying out for justice.

Think of yourself as Christ thought about himself.
And think of others the way Christ thought of them.
If we can start there, we have taken one step towards peace and justice.
And every step strengthens our connection.
May it be so. Amen.

Renew Our Whereabouts

Posted on January 13, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 42:1-9, Matthew 3:13-17

This weekend, I’ve been gathered along with our confirmation students and mentors and teachers for a retreat. Our focus has been what makes us distinctly United Methodist. We’ve talked about our church structure, the way of discipleship, how we discover wo God is, and what we believe about grace.

Along the way, I keep thinking about how our time together was kind of a boot camp, a crash course in the foundations of who we are.

We’ve been talking about our shared theology as Christians and our place in the history of the church, but this was a chance to really step into a tradition.

To learn about it.
As questions.
Get ready to claim it as their own.

Earlier in the week, I read a lovely reflection by Debie Thomas. Her weekly essays at Journey with Jesus help pastors and laity alike reflect on the what the lectionary texts mean for us today.

This week, she wrote of her own experience being baptized and how it felt like such a personal commitment. She was choosing Jesus. It was all about her and her faith in that moment. As a young girl, she believed it was all about what she was doing, her obedience, her choice.

But when she thinks back on the story we just shared with you of Jesus going to the River Jordan to be baptized by John, she didn’t see it as a personal stepping out.

Instead, she saw it as stepping in.

“A stepping into a history, a lineage, a geography, an identity. In receiving baptism, Jesus doesn’t set himself apart from us; he aligns himself with us.”

For a normal person, that wouldn’t be a big deal…
To identify with others…
To join in what they were doing…

But this was Jesus!
He didn’t need us.
He didn’t need to repent and be forgiven.
He didn’t need to humble himself that way in those dirty waters of the river.

But he did.

Debie Thomas reminds us that the very first public act of Jesus was to step into our lives.
He submitted to John the Baptist… because he gives away his power.
He entered the Jordan River, that sacred place filled with so much history.

“Jesus stepped into the whole Story of God’s work on earth, and allowed that story to resonate, deepen, and find completion.”

Although it was only last week we were thinking about the babe in the manger and the wise ones who visited, this was really the first public act of Jesus.

For many at the time, this moment was the beginning of their encounter with Christ.
It was the first moment that they recognized what God was doing in their midst.
And when the Servant of God, the Beloved One, appeared before them, it wasn’t a spectacle.
It wasn’t to take over.
It wasn’t to transform everything in an moment.

It was an invitation.
An invitation for us to step in as well.
An invitation for us to surrender.
A invitation for us to enter that tradition, that history, that community of faith that has gone before us.

As Debie Thomas writes,

“To embrace Christ’s baptism story is to embrace the core truth that we are united, interdependent, connected, one. It is to sit with the staggering reality that we are deeply, deeply loved.”

I remember the day my youngest brother Darren was baptized.
He and my mom had transferred to a new church and they had missed a window for confirmation, so when it came around again, he signed up.

Unfortunately for Darren, this new church held confirmation during the seventh grade year, and he was a junior in high school.
He was about a foot and a half taller than the rest of his classmates, but Darren went through the entire class with them and was confirmed that spring.

I got to be there the day my little brother was confirmed and baptized and it was such a special moment.
All throughout the class, while he had been slightly out of place, those young kids looked up to him and they grew to be great friends.
As Darren knelt to be baptized, the pastor invited friends and family to come up and lay their hands on him.
Every single one of the kids in that confirmation class came forward and stood around us and reached out their hands to affirm and bless him.
It was quite powerful.

Darren’s baptism reminded me that whether we are young or old, whether we remember it happening to us or not, our baptisms are not private or personal events.

We are baptized in the midst of the church because those who surround us are also making commitments and vows:
the church affirms its own faith
the church pledges to act as spiritual mentors for those being baptized
the church vows their ongoing support.

In our United Methodist resources on baptism it claims that the covenant of baptism “connects God, the community of faith, and the person being baptized; all three are essential to the fulfillment of the baptismal covenant.”

Every baptism is a chance for the whole congregation to reaffirm our faith and to progress farther on the journey with Christ.

We are all stepping into live together.
“United, interdependent, connected, one.”
We are remembering that each of us, every single one, is deeply loved.

And whenever we remember our baptisms,
We have a chance to refocus on Jesus.
We have a chance to renew our whereabouts.
We have a chance to re-engage our spirits.

As we heard from the book of Isaiah this morning:
“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations… I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness… I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations”

And this calling, this ministry is sealed when the Spirit of the Lord descends upon him in the waters of the River Jordan.

We are remind of the spirit of God hovering over the waters in creation and God speaking, “Let there be light.”

God shows up and new life is among us.
The new creation.
New things that God declares.
A new journey for us to take.

And through our baptism, Isaiah’s servant of God… Matthew’s beloved… invites us to follow.
The light of Christ becomes part of us.
His mission becomes our own.
His journey becomes our path.

I’m reminded of a poem from Wendell Berry called the Gift of Gravity.

For those of you who don’t know Berry, he is a writer and a farmer from Kentucky who often writes about the ordinary and mundane ways that God shows up in our lives. Hear these words about the river, about the light, about the cycle of giving and taking.

All that passes descends,
and ascends again unseen
into the light: the river
coming down from sky
to hills, from hills to sea,
and carving as it moves,
to rise invisible,
gathered to light, to return
again… “The river’s injury
is its shape.” I’ve learned no more.
We are what we are given
and what is taken away;
blessed be the name
of the giver and taker.
For everything that comes
is a gift, the meaning always
carried out of sight
to renew our whereabouts,
always a starting place.
And every gift is perfect
in its beginning, for it
is “from above, and cometh down
from the Father of lights.”
Gravity is grace.

The rain and snow that falls upon us comes from God.
It washes us clean.
It surrounds us and refreshes the ground upon which we walk…
But the light comes down from God as well.
It melts the snow and ice and warms the earth and the moisture evaporates.

It is a cycle necessary for life.
“for everything that comes/ is a gift, the meaning always/ carried out of sight/ to renew our whereabouts,/ always a starting place.”

To renew our whereabouts… always a starting place.

Like rain and light, grace is poured down upon us from God.

Whether you first stepped into the faith through baptism 1 year ago or 90 years ago, grace always gives us a fresh start.

As Berry writes, it comes down upon us to renew our whereabouts… it is always a starting place.

These waters are new life for us now.
They are the chance to re-enter the journey.
To recommit to these people.
To re-energize your spirit.
To refocus on Jesus.

After all, as Debie Thomas reminds us,

“He’s the one who opens the barrier, and shows us the God we long for. He’s the one who stands in line with us at the water’s edge, willing to immerse himself in shame, scandal, repentance, and pain — all so that we might hear the only Voice that will tell us who we are and whose we are in this sacred season. Listen. We are God’s chosen. God’s children. God’s own. Even in the deepest, darkest water, we are the Beloved.”

This is the promise of God… Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Lord of the Dance

Posted on August 26, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 2 Samuel 6:14-22

There was a stately, beautiful church on the corner of Main and Broad streets. The members were known for their love and care for one another.
On Easter Sunday, the pews were full of folks in their Sunday best, smiling graciously to one another and all of the guests who were among them. Everything was perfect.
Worship had begun, when all of a sudden a scruffy man in a faded shirt walked in. His jeans had holes in them and his sneakers were tattered. He looked around for a seat, but they were all taken.
Every eye followed him as he walked all the way to the front of the church, still looking for a place to sit.
Reaching the first pew and not finding a spot… or anyone who would make room, he sat down cross legged in the aisle.

Everybody was wondering who this was, but even more than that, they were wondering who was going to do something about it.
The organist began to play the opening hymn, but nobody was really listening.
Then, Mr. Sims, a stately older gentleman who had served as an usher for more than half a century, made his way from the back of the church down the aisle.
Somebody had to do something, after all.
Everyone watched as the old man bent down and said: “I just want to say how good it is to have you here.”
And Mr. Sims slowly lowered himself with great difficulty and sat down by the young visitor. He handed him a bulletin, and offered to share his hymnal.
They sat and worshiped together.

What does it really mean to fully worship God?
What does it mean to join in the dance of faith?
It is not about comfort or safety or the clothes you are wearing.
Worship is a risk.
It is a personal and corporate encounter with the divine and we are not in charge.
When we really place our lives before this God, we will not be the same.

Think of those two men in the story. Both took a risk in the presence of God.
The young man was a stranger, coming in off the street, and while everyone was dressed in their Sunday finest, he didn’t care what others thought.
He didn’t care if everyone else was watching.
He was coming to the Lord – and nothing was going to stop him.
The older gentleman had just as much, if not more to lose.
He was established and respected.
Everyone in that church expected him to ask the young man to move.
But Mr. Sims broke with convention and let the Spirit guide him to the front of the church to sit down with that young man.

In 1987, Susanna Clark and Richard Leigh’s song, “Come from the Heart,” included the lines –

“You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.”

The young man and Mr. Sims joined in the dance of faith and didn’t care if anyone was watching. They just put their heart into it.
And in our reading from 2 Samuel, David embraces that same heartfelt abandon leading the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem.
Let’s explore for moment the risk of this moment of worship and the courage it took for David to truly dance.
For years, the ark has been in the hands of the Philistines.
David wants to show that his rule is connected to the lordship, power, and presence of God so he has decided to go and recapture the ark and bring it to Jerusalem.
He gathers thirty thousand of his best men and they go and capture the ark from their enemies.
You might expect a solemn and formal military processional bringing this prized possession back to the Israelites. But King David led a celebration march and they praised God with all of their might with songs and instruments and drums.
In fact, the people were so caught up in their celebration an accident occurred.
Passing over rough terrain, one of the oxen stumbled and the ark nearly fell to the ground.
But a man named Uzzah instinctively reached out to grab onto the ark and lift it to safety.
Whew, we might think to ourselves… disaster averted.

But just the encounter Isaiah had in the temple which we discussed a few weeks ago, this moment reminds us of the holy, other, awesome power of God.
This ark was not a box holding some important documents – it was a sacred object that could bring both blessing and harm.
It was to be touched and handled only by those who had properly prepared, only by the Levites.
The young man was immediately struck dead.

In the middle of the road, in the middle of their journey, all of the celebrations stop.
David is so troubled by these occurrences, so angry at God for what has happened, he refuses to carry the ark the rest of the way to Jerusalem.
He is afraid of what will happen when God’s presence comes into his royal city.
You see, David isn’t perfect. He knows about the sin of his own life and fears for how God’s holy presence might alter the course of his reign.
So instead, he puts the ark in the safekeeping of a family in a village nearby.

David’s heartfelt abandon is closed off because of the fear of being burned, of being rejected, or being found unworthy.

Can you imagine how the story of our faith might have gone had Jesus been afraid to dance?
Sydney Carter’s famous hymn tells the story of Jesus Christ, without ever using his name.
The dance of creation and his birth in Bethlehem…
The call for Pharisees and fishermen to follow… and the refusal of many to join.
The holy people shame him for his acts of love and power.
He is arrested, abused, and killed…
And yet, not once did the dance stop.
And never has the Lord of the Dance stopped inviting us to join in.

There are a lot of people in this world… probably even here in this room… whose hearts are closed off.
People afraid to let God in.
People afraid to make a fool of themselves for God because of what others might think.
People ashamed of their past and whether they will be welcomed.
People who aren’t quite sure they can celebrate with all of their might before God.
Kate Huey writes,

“Jubilation is a word we rarely use, perhaps because such a feeling has been limited for many, for the most part, to sports and, perhaps, the occasional political victory. But what if we felt deep-down-in-our-hearts jubilation over what God is doing in our lives? Would we dance, too?”
Henry Brinton has compared worship… to a modern dance solo by Paul Taylor, the dancer/choreographer who “simply stood motionless on stage for four minutes….The dancing we do in church tends to be quite similar to Paul Taylor’s solo. What we do is nothing – we just stand still, hardly moving a muscle. Our worship of God involves our minds… our tongues, but rarely our whole bodies.”

What would it take to get our bodies more involved in worship?
What would give us the courage to let go and let the dance carry us along?
Maybe, we need to give up control.
Maybe we need to let the rhythm of the song shape and move us.
Maybe we need to let Christ lead.

In the book, The Soul of Tomorrow’s Church, Kent Ira Groff advocates for including rhythm instruments in every worship service. He notes composer Brian Wren’s understanding that “rhythm tries to move you bodily.”
No wonder that from forever and everywhere the drum has been an instrument of healing, reminiscent of the heartbeat of God – use in primal caves, rock bands, sophisticated symphonies. The pipe organ is a wonderful instrument… but in combining many instruments in one, it decreased the participation of the many…
Let me say that again… when we combined many instruments into one, we decreased the participation of the many.
You see, when we clap our hands, or tap our toes, or play along on other instruments, or use our own instrument, our voice, we are joining in the dance.
We are taking a risk.
We are offering ourselves.
We are participating is something bigger than ourselves.
We join the rest of creation and cry out with our whole being – the Lord is Good.

You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.

Just like we might be afraid to step beyond our comfort zones and truly praise God with our whole bodies…
just like we might be afraid to truly welcome into our midst those who don’t look anything like us…
just like we might be afraid of what will happen if we open ourselves up to God’s presence…
King David was afraid of what it meant to invite God into his city. He was afraid of what might happen to himself and his reign.
In many ways, he had a healthy understanding of the holy power and otherness of the Lord… but he let his fear overwhelm his ability to truly trust God.

But then he decided to try again. He worked up the courage to let God lead.
They took the ark out of the house and had moved just six steps down the road when David was so overwhelmed with joy and thanksgiving… with jubilation!… that he sacrificed a bull and a calf in praise to God.
And he took off his royal garments and there in front of all the people he danced before God with all of his might.
He shed his fear, he shed all of the expectations people had of him, he shed his denial of God’s holiness, and he worshiped and praised with heartfelt abandon.

As the dancing proceeded back to Jerusalem and as they got close to the city gates, David’s wife Michal saw him out there.
She saw him without his royal robes, dancing among the commoners.
She saw him making a fool of himself, rather than maintaining his composure.
And then, she confronted him about it.
But David replied, “I was celebrating before the Lord, who chose me… and I will celebrate before the Lord again! I may humiliate myself even more, and I may be humbled in my own eyes.”
He spoke with that same spirit Paul did when he said that we should be fools for Christ – laying it all out on the line to praise and honor the God who gives us life.
Michal, the scribes, the Pharisees, those people in the pews on Easter morning… they could get so caught up in tradition, on what was supposed to happen, in what was appropriate or required…
But as Jesus reminds us over and over again in the gospels, outward trappings are not important.
They don’t make us righteous or unrighteous, worthy or unworthy.
It is our hearts that matter.
What we give to God that matters.
Whether we leave behind ourselves and join in the dance.
So friends, wherever you are, whoever you are, let’s dance.
Amen.

This is Love: Love that Conquers Death

Posted on April 21, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Song of Songs: 8:6-7, Luke 24:1-10

In the sensual poetry of the Song of Songs, we hear the tale of a young couple madly in love with one another. Their love is made every more delicious by its scandalous nature, and explodes with emotion and passion. Every time I read through its passages, my mind wanders to the forbidden love of couples like Romeo and Juliet. So taken are they with one another, death itself could not drown out their love.
“Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm,” the young woman speaks, “for love is as strong as death, passionate love unrelenting as the grave.”

In some ways, we find the overwhelming love and passion of these verses a little silly and sentimental.
But the truth is, we have known that love.
When we hold the hand of a dying parent or grandparent, we know the strength of the love that cannot be defeated by death.
When we say goodbye to a loved one, to a spouse or child taken too soon, we know the unrelenting passion for that beloved and precious life that will never leave our hearts.
Every birthday. Every anniversary. Every time we come across their favorite flower or song or team, that love pours back into our soul.
For me, it is the smell of lemon verbena. I am instantly transported back to my grandmother’s side and the smell of the lotion that was on the side table. Memories flood my heart with all of those moments of laughter and lessons… baking casseroles in the kitchen… hearing her encouragement for my endeavors.
And then I open my eyes and remember it has been nearly eighteen years since she passed.
We live with the reality of our loss. The love we have for another cannot snatch them from the arms of death. It cannot keep someone breathing or their heart pumping. It cannot bring them back to life.
Our love endures death.
The silence of the grave cannot take away the love we have for another person…
But neither can our love cannot defeat it.

On Good Friday, we carried Christ to the tomb. The stone at the entrance was secured and then we began to sit in lament.
Death is the final wilderness.
It is imagined as a place of suffering, darkness, silence, and nothing.
Our love endures, but the reality of death continues.

That enduring love brought three women to the tomb on Easter morning.
Their beloved teacher and friend… the one who had showed them what it truly means to live… had been taken by the powers of the world and had been executed.
They came to the tomb early that morning with love in their hearts.
Love that caused them to set aside any fears they might have about being arrested.
Love that was stronger than the desire to remain safe.
Love that couldn’t be extinguished by a criminal’s death on a cross.
Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James went to the tomb with love in their hearts expecting to encounter death.
They were going to look death square in the face and anoint the body of their Master.
They were going to tell death that it might have taken away their hope, but it could not destroy their love.

They discovered something they could not understand.
The tomb was empty.
His body was gone.
Angels suddenly appeared among them…
“why do you look for the living among the dead?”

On that Easter morning, so long ago, we discovered a love that was stronger than death.
God’s love for the world.
And that love poured out through the cross.
That love entered the reality of death.
It was a love so strong that the forces of death could not contain it.

Our journey through Holy Week rarely spends much time with the reality of Holy Saturday, but I want to take you back there this morning.
You see, the power of death is all around us.
And it can only truly and finally be defeated if it is confronted head on.
God’s love for this world is so great and so deep and so wide that nothing and nobody can escape it.
Not even the depths of hell.

In the Apostles’ Creed, we recite words handed down for centuries that convey the most important realities of our faith.
I actually want to invite you to pull out your hymnals and turn to page 881… or peek into the back corners of your memories… page 881… and recite with me once again those ancient words.

I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth;
And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord:
Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
Born of the Virgin Mary,
Suffered under Pontius Pilate,
Was crucified, dead, and buried;*
The third day he rose from the dead;
He ascended into heaven,
And sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty;
From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
The holy catholic church,
The communion of saints,
The forgiveness of sins,
The resurrection of the body,
And the life everlasting. Amen.

How many of you noticed that little asterisks in the printed version in the hymnal.
Look down at the bottom of the page at what words we so often leave out.
After Jesus suffering and death… after he was buried in the tomb… the traditional way we remember this story is that Jesus descended to hell.

In the First Epistle of Peter, we are told that the God who made everything, came to us in the life of Jesus Christ… and that in order for all of us to be brought back into the life and presence of God, God’s love descended even to the depths of hell… even to the spirits who were in prison… and shared with them the good news of life and love and light.

My friend and colleague, Mary Bellon, wrote these words for her Holy Saturday devotion for the Annual Conference

“I think it must have been so quiet
In heaven, when God came home
Dragging with him the souls
Who had been lost, carrying them
On his shoulder and over his back
One by one, up from all pure lost-ness
Into heaven and such still silence,
Nobody wailing or weeping but held now
In the abiding, in the coming home.
For three days, he carried the lost
And shut the door on hell… ”

You see, in the holy moments between the cross and the tomb this morning, Christ was busy.
Christ was busy breaking this world free from its chains.
Christ was busy opening up all of creation to the power of God’s restoring, redeeming, recreating love.
Jesus entered the wilderness of hell itself and rescued the disobedient, broken, lifeless, defeated people from the prison of death.
And when he got up on Easter morning…
When he rose up from the depths of hell…
When he stood in body and spirit, in all of his resurrected glory before the disciples…
Christ ushered in a new kingdom where every power that would destroy life, every force that would bind us up, every authority… was now put on notice.

As the Apostle Paul writes to the people of Corinth,

“Christ has been raised from the dead. He’s the first crop of the harvest of those who have died. Since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead came through one too… Each event will happen in the right order: Christ, the first crop of the harvest, then those who belong to Christ at his coming, and then the end, when Christ hands over the kingdom to God the Father, when he brings every form of rule, every authority and power to an end. It is necessary for him to rule until he puts all enemies under his feet. Death is the last enemy to be brought to an end.” (1 Cor 15: 20-26, CEB)

Whenever a new kingdom comes to rule, the old powers don’t just give in.
They go kicking and screaming to their end.
All around us, death is trying to claw its way back into power.
The forces of evil are fighting back.
We still experience loss, and pain, and grief.
But the Kingdom of Christ is already reigning among us.
And we have been given the promise, the assurance…
The resurrecting love of God will conquer all… even, finally, death itself.

What is the power of resurrection?
It isn’t merely rescue from the brink of death, like we saw with the cathedral of Notre Dame… as brave souls worked through the night to prevent utter destruction.
It isn’t simply reanimation, as we saw this past week when scientists brought a spark of life back to pig’s brains.
It isn’t only resuscitation, where those we thought were dead were pulled back from the brink through extraordinary measures.
Resurrection is not rebuilding…
It is not renovation.
It is not restoration.
It might be a little bit of all of those things, but it is also so much more.

Resurrection is what happens when those who were dead and hopeless and defeated and gone stand up in the love and grace of Jesus Christ.
When we thought the story was over.
When we thought victory was firmly in the hands of death.
Love burst forth from the grave and said, not today Satan.
And resurrection happens all around us when we take up the life and the mission and the ministry of Jesus Christ.
It happens when we die to our self and rise with Christ in baptism.
It happens when we commit to resist the forces of evil, injustice, and oppression in the world.
Resurrection is the addict who hit rock bottom who is now a minister of the gospel.
Resurrection is the church showing up to sing praises in the ashes of a burned building.
Resurrection is a challenging the powers that be who seek to stifle life.
Resurrection is entering the prison.
Resurrection is mucking out a flooded home.
Resurrection is sitting with the dying.
We practice resurrection, we participate in resurrection, we are agent’s of God’s amazing resurrecting love every time we go to those people and places that the world has declared dead, hopeless, defeated and gone and we proclaim with our hands and feet and lips and hearts… not today, Satan. Not today.
Love is not just as strong as death.
Today and tomorrow and at the end of days, the love of God in Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit has conquered death once and for all. Amen.

The Wilderness: Gotta Serve Somebody

Posted on April 7, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Exodus 32:1-4, Matthew 4:8-9

Before we get started today, I want to invite you take just a minute of silent reflection.

Somewhere, on your bulletin, I want you to write down the top five things that demand your time, attention, and responsibility. The top five things that you are called to focus on.
Take a minute… and if you can and have time, try to number them with 1-5 with 1 being the thing that is most important.

Hang on to those… we’ll come back to them

Today on our journey through the wilderness, we come to the third temptation Jesus encounters.
The devil takes Jesus up onto a high mountain and shows him all of the kingdoms of the world.

I have to admit. Every time I read this passage, I can’t help but think of Disney’s “The Lion King.” I imagine Mufasa strolling to the top of Pride Rock with little Simba at his side as they watch the sun come up over the savannah. “Everything the light touches is our kingdom,” Mufasa explains. “One day, Simba, the sun will set on my time here, and will rise with you as the new king.”
The young cub gets a glimmer in his eyes… “and this’ll all be mine?”

“This will all be yours,” the devil says to Jesus.
“Just bow down and worship me.”

There is a hidden question lurking just behind this offer from the devil. How and why does the devil have any authority whatsoever to be able to give these kingdoms to Jesus?
Our Lord and Creator made this world, and it all belongs to God, right?

Well, maybe not.
You see… from the very beginning, God has always entrusted this land, this creation, all the creatures to us.
As we are told in Genesis 1 – God made those first humans in God’s image and made them responsible for the fish, the birds, the cattle, and one another. God blessed them and gave them everything in all of creation.
And it was very good.

But what did we do with that gift?
We used it and abused it.
We took advantage of the creatures and one another.
Piece by piece, we have handed over this responsibility to our baser impulses.
With our actions and our inactions, through our impatience and fear, we have allowed the world to be controlled by the devil.

Our scriptures are full of these kinds of stories and they are clearly found during our time of wandering in the wilderness.
Exodus tells us about how the Israelites made their way to Mount Sinai after three months of travel and Moses went up the mountain to receive from God instructions about how the people should live. The very first declaration was this:
“You saw what I did to the Egyptians, and how I lifted you up on eagle’s wings and brought you to me. So now, if you faithfully obey me and stay true to my covenant, you will be my most precious possession out of all the peoples, since the whole earth belongs to me. You will be a kingdom of priests for me and a holy nation.” (Exodus 19:1-6)
And the people shout out a resounding “YES!”

But there are more details to be fleshed out in this instruction and Moses goes up to the mountaintop to receive them.
Twelve chapters go by in the book of Exodus.
And the people start to get impatient.
So by the time we get to our scripture for today, from Exodus 32, the people have had enough.
They agreed to follow the one who rescued them from slavery… the one who made the heavens and the earth… the one who was going to create of them a holy and mighty nation…
But as soon as fear and impatience set in, they are ready to move on to something else.

The people ask Aaron to make other gods for them.
They want to turn their allegiance, their hearts, over to something besides this God who terrified them and Moses who seemed to have disappeared into the clouds above.
They have needs.
They have desires.
They want to get going.
And they don’t see it happening anytime soon, so they are moving on.

It happens again after the people arrive and are settled in the promised land.
They want to be like other nations and have kings and rulers like they do.
So they turn away from God’s personal leadership and demand that they get a ruler (1 Samuel 8).

Over and over again, we take this precious gift of life, creation, and relationship that God has blessed us with and we say, “no.”
We instead allow other people, powers, and values to guide our lives.
In fact, if you were to look back at that list you created at the start of this time, what you will likely see are good important things that pull us in a million different directions.
They compete for ownership of our lives.
They compete with one another for a place of priority.
And every time we say yes to one of those things, we say no to something else.

Let me cut straight to the point.
Where is God on your list?
Or have we already decided to hand over this world and our lives and everything we do to something else?

It’s no wonder the devil has this world firmly in its grasp.
We have been selling it off, piece by piece, action by action, priority by priority for a long time.

So when Jesus finds himself standing on that mountaintop, he, too, has a choice.
Jesus could play the age old game where he lets fear and impatience and competing values rule the day.
He could take back this world by giving in to those baser desires to have it now and to have it your way and to have it be easy.
And… to be honest, once he had control of all the kingdoms of the world, he would have accomplished what he was there to do and he could kick the devil out!

OR… he could wait.
He could let God continue to rule.
He could take the more difficult path through the cross and the tomb and all the way to the gates of hell to wrestle the keys to the world from the devil’s grasp.
“Get out of here, Satan” Jesus responds. “it is written that You will worship the Lord your God and serve only him.” (Matthew 4:10)

Even Jesus has to write down a list of priorities.
Save the world.
Usher in the Kingdom of God.
Eat with sinners
Love the people.
Serve God.

Jesus has a choice that will shape every other item on that list.
In the words of Bob Dylan, You’re gonna have to serve somebody.