it causes me to tremble…

Day two of our annual conference has completed.  We have voted on exactly 7 items of legislation. And we have celebrated and praised and prayed and remembered and sung and danced and ate and hugged and sat and walked and listened.

Some brief highlights for me so far:

  • “Hi, I’m Fred.”  Our “priest” for the conference introduced himself and welcomed us into a spirit of worshipful work and I truly have felt this particular time of conference has felt different because of it.
  • advocating for young adults at our legislative section and dreaming up possibilities for community college ministries
  • Rev. Doug Ruffle’s challenges to be a sign, a foretaste, and an instrument of the Kingdom of God…
  • crazy fast and delicious dinner at A Dong
  • even though clergy session was inhumanely long – it had a wonderful spirit to it as we gathered to worship (thanks clergy band!) and celebrate the ministry we share… and have good conversation about itinerancy
  • ordination!!!!!!  being surrounded by family and church members and friends, the weight of all of those hands upon me, the feeling of the bible underneath my fingers, singing with joy
  • the reminders throughout the day of the gift of the scriptures:  Bishop Kulah talking about Jesus expounding the scriptures; Barbara Lundblad’s take on radical love enfleshed in John’s gospel (love that bends down, that reaches beyond, that puts people before rules, that is here in this moment, that renews itself as soon as you think it has ended); Bishop Job sharing what a day, a year, a decade’s worth of living in the word can do for our lives; a friend’s amazing rendition of a song from the musical Philemon during prayer;
  • the Rethink Rock video
  • the voices of young adults who stood to speak out of love for what they care about on the floor.
  • sharing deeply with one another truths about things that have hurt us… so that we might give them over to God.
  • our conference artist’s work… and the poetic description of what God is sharing with us through it. The idea of being baptised into the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ being symbolized by a font filled with shards of glass… of chairs of hospitality inviting us to take our seat… the challenge that being radically hospitible brings… of the chair on the cross being an invocation – asking for God to enter our lives. 

Life Abundant… and what it means for us and Haiti

According to our “Enough” study, I’m supposed to preach on the American dream – about how the quest to have it all has taken it all away from us. I’m supposed to preach on the difference between abundance and the life abundant. I’m supposed to preach on our need to consume and acquire and what we give up in the process.

But all of that seems very trite when we remember that brothers and sisters not too far from here were rocked by an earthquake. All of that seems vanity when we think of the lives of missionaries and doctors and orphans and moms and dads and brothers and sisters in Haiti. All of that seems just plain foolishness, when we consider those who have nothing.

I am a part of a number of online communities that have been sharing stories of the lives of people who have been affected by the earthquake in Haiti. I have been praying for the rescue of and now mourning the loss of the head of our United Methodist Committee on Relief, who was killed in the rubble under our meeting place in a hotel there. And I read this letter from a friend’s parents who are working at a hospital in Haiti.

“Hospital Ste. Croix is standing. John and I are fine. The administration building collapsed, and our apartment collapsed under the story above. We have nothing we brought with us to Haiti… Someone who was here gave me some shoes, and I found another pair of reading glasses that will work, so I have what I need…

Everyone connected with the hospital is alive except that we have not heard from Mario… several people lost members of extended family. The St. Croix church is cracked, I don’t know how badly. Eye clinic looks fine…
At night we sleep in the yard behind the hospital where the bandstand was. It has fallen, as has the Episcopal school. There are 2-300 people who sleep in that field at night. They sing hymns until almost midnight, and we wake up to a church service, with hymns, a morning prayer, and the apostle’s creed. The evening sky is glorious. In the field there is a real sense of community. Of course, we are the only blancs (whites) there… People have shared with us and we are getting a chance to feel how Haitians really live…

I have never understood joy in the midst of suffering, but now I do. The caring I have seen, the help we have received from the Haitians, the evening songs and prayers. Are wonderful. The people will survive, though many will die. Please pray for us. And pray that we and the hospital can be of help to the people here. Suzi.”

One of the lines that really struck me was the one that said: we have nothing we brought with us to Haiti, but someone gave me shoes and I found a pair of reading glasses, so I have what I need.

That is an amazingly different way to view the world than through the American Dream.

Living under the quest for the American dream, we have a constant need for bigger and better stuff.

Did you know that the average American home went from 1660 square feet in 1973 to 2400 square feet in 2004?

Did you know that there is estimated to be 1.9 billion – yes, billion with a b- 1.9 billion square feet of self-storage space in America? We have so much stuff that we don’t even know what to do with it or where we will put it.

And to get all of that space and all of the stuff to fill it, we have exploited our credit systems… and our credit systems have exploited us.

In the past twenty years, the average credit card debt in our country rose from $3,000 a person to $9,000 a person.

Thursday night, someone in our group mentioned that we have a hole in our lives that we aren’t quite sure how to fill. So we try to fill it with money and possessions. But are we happier? Are we filled? Do we have as much joy in our hearts as the woman serving in Haiti who has only a pair of shoes and reading glasses?

I’m not saying that we should sell everything we have, or throw it in to a ravine and go and serve the poor… although those were the very instructions that Jesus gave to a young man seeking his kingdom.

No, I’m instead saying that maybe our vision of what abundance looks like is a bit off.

In our gospel reading this morning, Jesus isn’t chastising people for their wealth and celebration… he joins together with friends and family at a wedding feast and when the wine runs out and the party threatens to fall apart… Jesus provides. Jesus takes ordinary things like jars and water and creates abundance.

In Psalm 36, we are reminded of God’s abundance… How precious is your steadfast love, O God! All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light.” (Psalm 36: 7-9)

God desires abundance in our lives. An abundance of life. An abundance of joy. An abundance of hope. An abundance of relationships.

And – an abundance of the things that we need to live in that simple, generous and joyful way.

I was struck by a column this week by David Brooks in the New York Times. He wrote:

“On Oct. 17, 1989, a major earthquake with a magnitude of 7.0 struck the Bay Area in Northern California. Sixty-three people were killed. This week, a major earthquake, also measuring a magnitude of 7.0, struck near Port-au-Prince, Haiti. The Red Cross estimates that between 45,000 and 50,000 people have died.

This is not a natural disaster story. This is a poverty story. It’s a story about poorly constructed buildings, bad infrastructure and terrible public services…”

This week was a reminder that stuff isn’t always the problem. People around the world need safe places to live in and well constructed buildings. They need access to medical care and they need proper roads and clean water. And not having access to those things created a disaster that far exceeds the earthquake.

I don’t know very well the history of Haiti. What I do know is that it was a nation of slaves who overturned an oppressive government. And I know that although we as a nation benefited from their success and were able buy a whole boatload of land from the defeated French for a measly 1 million dollars, we did nothing to help them. I know that their culture is very different from ours and in some cases religious practices too, but hey are still our brothers and sisters in the human race. They are God’s people too.

And yet some among us have called them cursed.

I don’t know about that. But I do know that our God has something to say about cursed and abandoned places. In our reading from Isaiah this morning we heard: “You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate; but you shall be called My Delight is In Her, and your land Married; for the lord delights in you, and your land shall be married.
The Lord delights in you. The Lord is with you in the middle of the field in Haiti and you sing hymns and praise him. The Lord is with you as you work for healing and bind up wounds. The Lord is with you as you tear down the rubble and begin to dream of rebuilding. The Lord is with you and the Lord will provide.
As a colleague said this week, “we trust that God wants abundance, so we follow in the footsteps of the mother of Jesus prodding God for divine compassion and generosity:”

She looked upon the situation at the wedding feast and knew that something had to be done. So she went to someone she knew could help. She went to her Lord… ‘They have no wine.’ She said.
And we have joined her this week in our prayers. They have no medical supplies, we prayed. They have no way out of that rubble, we have prayed. They have no clean water, we have prayed.
How will the Lord provide? The same way the Lord has always provided… through transforming ordinary things into the miracles of life.
That’s what Jesus did at the feast. He took simple urns and filled them with water and out poured abundance. And that is what God is doing in Haiti. He is taking fields surrounded by rubble and turning them into his cathedrals. He is taking a United Methodist Habitat for Humanity mission in the Bahamas and transformed it into rescue and recovery flight service. He takes kits made by United Methodists all across our country and turns them into health and healing for those who have nothing. He takes our dollar bills – these green pieces of paper – and turns them into food and water and medicine for the people who need them the most.
And perhaps the most amazing thing. God takes our lives. God takes our hands and feet and eyes and ears and turns them into his. When we allow Christ to work in us. When we allow ourselves to be transformed by Jesus into wine for a broken and hurting world – I think that is when we truly know what abundance is. When we are poured out for others is when we are truly filled. When we look at the ways that we can transform our time and talents and resources, we find that there is an abundance to be given. We find that there is joy in letting go of all of the things that we though we needed. We find that living below our means – we have so much more room to share.

In your bulletins, there is an insert with some worksheets. Had this week been different, we would have talked more about these things – but they will come later. For now, take them home and read over them and maybe think a little bit about the budgeting that is in the insert. Think about what you though abundance and wealth meant in your life before. And think about what God has called us to – think about what God, in the abundance of his love has provided.

Amen. And Amen.

Where is the Kingdom?

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be they name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven…
Thy kingdom come on earth…
That little tiny phrase is one of the most subversive and radical things that we can say as Christian people. And we say it every week. Too often, we rush over the words, practically tripping over them to get to the end, because we know the Lord’s Prayer so well.

We know the Lord’s Prayer – we know how to say it – we know the comfort that it brings to our lives – and yet do we really know WHAT we are saying?

Thy kingdom come on earth.

Early Christians were accused of terrible things by those who didn’t understand their worshipping practices – but something they were correctly accused of was sedition and treason. They openly confessed in the face of an empire that they belonged to the Kingdom of God, that their citizenship was in heaven. And some were willing to die rather than to worship or honor an earthly king.

They got these radical ideas from the gospels. As Daniel Clendenin reminds us:

“The birth of Jesus signaled that God would “bring down rulers from their thrones” (Luke 1:52). In Mark’s gospel the very first words that Jesus spoke announced that “the kingdom of God is at hand” (1:15). John’s gospel takes us to the death of Jesus, and the political theme is the same. Jesus was dragged to the Roman governor’s palace for three reasons, all political: “We found this fellow subverting the nation, opposing payment of taxes to Caesar, and saying that He Himself is Christ, a King” (Luke 23:1–2).”

Thy kingdom come on earth.

In our gospel text this morning, that is where we find Jesus – standing in Pilate’s headquarters, and being asked a plain and simple question: Are you the King of the Jews?

When Jesus gets tricky, responding with questions instead of answers, Pilate finally comes out and says it…. I have no idea why you are here – What have you done?

When you think about the big picture, It’s almost a laughable question… asking the King of Kings and Lord of Lords why a little provincial governor should be worried about him? Asking the one who is and who was and who is to come if he is a threat to the empire.

Jesus responds the best way he can. My kingdom is not from this world. If it was, then those who followed me would be fighting tooth and nail to protect me and keep me from being handed over to you. But my kingdom is not from here.

Thy kingdom come on earth.

We know how the Roman and Jewish leaders responded to that statement. Jesus was mocked and beaten and crucified.

Had he been just a revolutionary… had his kingdom originated in the stable at Bethlehem… had his goals merely been overthrowing the Roman occupation of Israel… that would have been the end.

But his kingdom is not from here.

His kingdom is not something that can be mapped out on a piece of paper. Its borders cannot be easily drawn. And contrary to much of our contemporary sentiment, it is not a place that we go to after we die.

No, we pray every week: Thy kingdom come on earth.

The Kingdom of God may not be from here… but it certainly is for here.

For the last two thousand years, Christians have tried to bring the Kingdom of God to bear in their lives. There are times when we have been wildly successful – and there are times when we have failed miserably. There are times when in the name of Christ our King we have brought hope and joy and peace to the lives of our brothers and sisters. And there have been times when we have subverted Christ as King for our own purposes to seek power and money and land at the cost of our brothers and sisters.

If we are going to be daring enough to pray for the kingdom to come on earth – we had better understand what we are praying for.

In the Kingdom of God – the first shall be last and the last shall be first.

In the Kingdom of God – you love God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength.

In the Kingdom of God – you love your neighbor as your self.

In the Kingdom of God – you forgive one another 70×70 times.

In the Kingdom of God – our ruler is the one who gets down on his hands and knees to wash our feet like a servant.

In the Kingdom of God – the widow and the orphan and the stranger are honored guests at the table.

I pray week after week for that kingdom of God to come…

But there are a lot of days when I listen to the news or read a story in the paper and I lament how far away from the Kingdom we really are. I want to be in that place where love and grace and mercy rule – rather than money and influence. I want to make my home in a land where nations stop rising up against nations and don’t learn war anymore. I want to go there – to where the Kingdom of God has taken root.

But where is that place? Where can we find it?

Even living on this side of the resurrection we see only glimpses.

One particular glimpse came when I heard a friend tell about having communion with Christians from Mexico. He was on a trip to the borderlands between our two countries and Christians from the United States and Mexico met on the border to worship with one another.

They sang songs of praise to God in their different languages. They prayed to the One who rules all nations. And they did so without ever being able to see one anothers face.

You see, there was a wall between these two groups of people. A wall so high they couldn’t see across. A wall that human hands had built. But they gathered in that place to worship a God whose Kingdom has no borders. Their songs and voices carried over the walls. When time came to share communion, they lobbed huge chunks of bread over that wall so that they could share of one common loaf.

Thy kingdom come on earth.

Those believers at the border didn’t wait for the Kingdom of God to be a fully present reality – they just let it take root in their hearts. They invited Christ in as King and then lived their lives accordingly. .

After all, that is the kingdom described in our reading from Revelation… The One who loves us and frees us from our sins by his blood made US to be a kingdom.

In, “Listening to your Life,” (page 304), Fred Beuchner writes:

“…the Kingdom of God in the sense of holiness, goodness, beauty is as close as breathing and is crying out to be born within ourselves and within the world; we would know that the kingdom of God is what all of us hunger for above all other things even when we don’t know its name or realize that it’s what we’re starving to death for. The Kingdom of God is where our best dreams come from and our truest prayers. We glimpse it at those moments when we find ourselves being better than we are and wiser than we know. We catch sight of it when at some moment of crisis a strength seems to come to us that is greater than our own strength. The Kingdom of God is where we belong. It is home, and whether we realize it or not, I think we are all of us homesick for it.”

We are homesick for it and yet it is as close as our next breath.

Thy Kingdom come on earth.

Thy Kingdom, Oh Jesus, come on earth and be born in my heart… transform my heart.

Thy Kingdom, Oh Lord, come on earth as we are all awakened to your call.

Thy Kingdom, Oh Holy Lord, come on this earth and pull us beyond the borders we have artificially made.

Thy Kingdom, Oh Lord and King, come on this earth and root all of our actions in the care of your creation.

Thy Kingdom, Radiant King, come on earth and help us to show that love and compassion are stronger weapons than all of the guns in the world.

Thy Kingdom, Blessed Ruler, come on earth and let us find the boldness to feed and clothe and heal our brothers and sisters without waiting for the government to help.

Thy Kingdom, Glorious King, come on earth and make us uncomfortable. Don’t let us be content with peace in our hearts until your peace truly reigns over the nations.

Thy Kingdom, Ancient of Days, come on earth and turn our allegiance from brand names and politicians and flags and nations to the one who is and who was and who is to come.

Thy Kingdom, Crucified God, come on earth and help us to imagine and embody life on earth, here and now, as though you are king and the rulers of this world were not. Help us to imagine our lives if you truly ruled the nations and not Barak Obama, or Wall Street, or Kim Jong-il, or Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, or Queen Elizabeth.

As Daniel Clendenin rightly says – “every aspect of our personal and communal life would experience a radical reversal. The political, economic and social subversions would be almost endless – peace-making instead of war mongering, liberation not exploitation, sacrifice rather than subjugation, mercy not vengeance, care for the vulnerable instead of privileges for the powerful, generosity instead of greed, humility rather than hubris, embrace rather than exclusion, etc. The ancient Hebrews had a marvelous word for this, shalom, or human well-being.,”

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Hewbrews Part 1: Disposable People


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The strange and frustrating thing about the lectionary – the three year cycle of readings that is used in many churches in the world – including ours… the strange and frustrating thing about the lectionary is that sometimes it just doesn’t make sense.

Each week we have a reading from the Old Testament, the New Testament, a Psalm, and a Gospel reading. And while most of the time they go together – with the same message and purpose, sometimes they just don’t seem to fit.

Take today for instance. Worldwide, we are celebrating the fact that as Christians we all partake of communion with one another. It is a day to remember that a Christian across the globe is our brother or sister in Christ – that we all partake of the one loaf and we all drink from the one cup.

In the lectionary cycle – today is also the day that we start exploring the books of Job in the Old Testament and Hebrews in the New. Until Thanksgiving, in fact, we will be going slowly through the book of Hebrews as we worship on Sunday mornings. But those readings have very little to do with the Old Testament reading from Job where Satan begins testing the faithful man by raining destruction into his life. It has very little to do with the passage from the gospels about divorce.

In fact, I couldn’t figure out how any of these things hung together – what we were supposed to make of them until I remembered a conversation I had with a patient of mine from Nashville

This patient, Adam, was struggling – deeply struggling with his worthiness before God. You see, Adam had cancer. And on this afternoon he was in a particularly deep hole of doubt and self-pity. On this day, the illness had gotten the best of him. And as I entered the room to visit with him he wanted to know why he couldn’t just die.

As we got to talking, I wondered what kind of comfort I could bring him. I couldn’t take the pain away. I asked him if he wanted to pray with me and he barely lifted his head as he spoke.

“I’ve asked Jesus over and over again to help me and he hasn’t,” Adam cried out, “how can he just let me suffer like this?”

As we talked more I began to realize that Adam was expressing a deep feeling of being forsaken by God. Forgotten. Thrown away. He felt like no matter how much he cried out, God wouldn’t listen.

Instead he was being punished. In his eyes, the suffering he was experiencing was God knocking on the door saying “see, I told you so,” and Adam was going to withstand that suffering. Whether it was sheer pride, or self-loathing, or the medications, he felt like he was being punished and he was going to take it like a man.

I remember asking him at one point: What if God’s just waiting for you to let go? What if God is just waiting for you to stop fighting him so that he can actually heal you? What if who you are fighting is yourself?

And then, I’ll never forget what he said. “Even if I do let go, even if I do admit he’s really there, I don’t deserve it.”

I have no idea what Adam’s past was. I don’t know where he thought that he failed.

I do know that I wanted to shake him and tell him that no matter how unworthy he thought he was, God wasn’t done with him.

God didn’t see him, and God doesn’t see us, as some disposable thing – made and then broken and easily thrown away. God saw him in the words of Psalm 8 as the one who was made just a little lower than the angels, crowned with glory and honor. It didn’t matter what he had done – God’s grace and forgiveness was bigger and stronger than his mistakes.

The amazing thing about the book of Hebrews is that while it is a text that portrays very vividly what Christ has done – it is humans who are the focus. Hebrews is about who God is yes, but about what God has done for us – how God acts because of us.

In chapter 1, we are reminded that while God has always been speaking to us – in various times and places – God chose finally to speak by his Son. This Son is the Word of God that is God and was God and spoke all things into being in the creation. Jesus, the Son of God, the Word of God, is God and is fully of all glory and honor.

But then in chapter two we compare this glory and majesty with what was created. This world, that we live in, was not given to angels or to demons, but to humans. Compared with the moon and the stars we are nothing – and yet God has made us a little lower than the angels and God has placed this world in our hands.

Here, the author of Hebrews turns our eyes back towards Psalm 8. We are reminded that Adam and Eve were made caretakers over the garden – over the animals and the birds and the fish and the land and the seas. This is our world – a gift, given to us by God for safekeeping.

And while chapter 2 verse 8 says that we are supposed to be in control, when we are sick. When natural disasters like earthquakes and tornados and floods ravage. When a brother or a sister harms us – the feeling of control slips between our fingertips. The reality that we experience however is that we feel completely out of control.

That is what my friend Adam in the hospital was experiencing. Completely out of control.

Hebrews tells us that while this world appears to be spinning out of control, we catch a glimpse of Jesus and we are reminded of how he poured himself out, became human – became one of us, and took the sins of the world with him through the cross. That becomes our reference point. That becomes our hope.

We are not disposable in God’s eyes, we are redeemable. As John 3:16 reminds us, For God so loved the world. God doesn’t abandon his creation – he loves it and he redeems it.

And through Christ, we become children of God. Or as verse 11 puts it – we all have one Father, one source – and Jesus is not ashamed to call us brothers and sisters.

What I told my friend Adam is that it doesn’t matter if you feel unworthy or not. It doesn’t matter if you think you deserve help or not. Heck, we probably are unworthy and we are undeserving. There is nothing that we can do to earn God’s love. But God loves you anyways. You are not a disposable part of God’s creation.

Christ invites us each to the table because it is more complete when we are all here. And when we sit at this table, we look across and see our brothers and our sisters. And just as you are not a disposable part of God’s creation – neither are they.

Gathering at the table means that we speak the truth about those we have hurt. It means that we acknowledge that there are people in the world that we have treated as if they can be used up and easily tossed aside. They may be people we never see like sweatshop workers in Vietnam, or coffee farmers in Columbia, or diamond miners in Africa.

But they might also be people who are close to us, people whose lives we share on a daily basis.

In our gospel reading today, Jesus makes a plea with his disciples not to separate the bonds of marriage and to honor the lives of children. And in both of these instances, he is speaking against cultural practices that allowed spouses and children to be considered disposable people.

If your wife burnt your dinner, you could write her a certificate of divorce. If you didn’t like the way she wore her hair, you could write her a certificate of divorce. While this had been in part Jewish custom, Greco-Roman culture also allowed by this time that women could divorce their husbands in a similar manner.

The same was true for children. They were seen as not fully human. Until they reached a certain age they had no voice and no standing. They were non-persons who could be sold and traded.

But just as Christ doesn’t give up on us – doesn’t throw us out with the slightest irritation, so too are we supposed to love one another. The relationship between two partners in marriage does not entitle either one to see the other as disposable. The relationship between parent and child means that the parent should care for the child and the child should honor the parent.

That doesn’t mean that there won’t be brokenness in the body of Christ. We all know situations where divorce has divided a family. We all know situations in which divorce was the only way out of an unhealthy situation. We can all think of instances in which children were not cared for by their community.

And we bring that to the table. And we speak the truth about the ways we have failed one another through confession. And here we receive forgiveness. In this bread and in this cup, we are restored. Whether we deserve it or not. Whether we think we are worthy or not. You are not disposable in God’s eyes and this table is set just for you.

Proclaiming the Word


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In our passage from Ephesians this morning, we hear two very important, complimentary lessons.

First – God is One. There is One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism, One Spirit, One Hope, One Body, ONE!

A few weeks ago, as I first introduced these elements of worship, we looked at the very simple message that Isaiah heard proclaimed in his vision. I forgive you, I love you, and I have a job for you. It’s short, It’s simple, in some ways, It is a summary of the entire Biblical tradition. Repeat it with me. I forgive you, I love you, and I have a job for you.

All of those “ONE’s” that we just heard about – they each have to do with this core message. We are forgiven by One Lord, through our One Faith, and in our One Baptism. We experience God’s love through the One Body. And empowered by the One Spirit, we are called to One common Hope.

That call is the Second lesson for this morning. The Word of God gave each of us a gift – a task – a calling… and these gifts, though united in purpose, are as varied as we are.

At annual conference this year, our resident artist, Ted Lyddon Hatten, created a color wheel out of chairs. Each one of the 16 chairs represented a different part of the color wheel.

Now, when we talk about light and color, we may remember from our childhood that white light is made up of many different wavelengths. Blues and Reds and Greens and Yellows all come together to create what we see as white. But in certain situations, that light is broken up, it is refracted, and we see a rainbow. We see the beauty of difference in what once appeared to be unified.

The color wheel is in some ways like that. If we mixed them all together, we would get a muddled and icky brown color – but individually, if we allow them to be in relationship, to compliment one another, our pictures become more vivid and brighter and full of life.

God’s Word – rather than being black and white words on a page that never change – is alive and varied and moving among us – as different as each of these sixteen chairs and sixteen colors. And the Word of God who is Jesus Christ chose us to carry the word to one another.

As The Message translation interprets this passage: You were all called to travel on the same road and in the same direction, so stay together, both outwardly and inwardly… BUT that doesn’t mean you should all look and speak and act the same. Out of the generosity of Christ, each of us is given his own gift.

In different times, in different places, and to different people, the Word of God is revealed.

In part, that’s what we saw in our children’s time today.

Each one of our senses, though different, experience the same God – they just do it in different ways.

Each sense is like a chair around this table. And when we put all of those messages together: the smells of Christmas, the taste of bread, the sight of the empty cross, the feel of cleansing water, the sounds of love – we find we have written one story: We are forgiven, We are Loved, and We have a job to do.

The One Body of Christ is a lot like this circle of chairs also. Because each of us are different people. We are each called and gifted and blessed in different ways. We each have unique and beautiful life experiences to share. Some of us have spent our whole lives working with the soil. Some of us have spent our entire lives helping and serving others. Some of us are young and have fresh eyes with which to look at the world. Some of us have experienced profound pain in our lives. Some of us work with machines, and others of us work with our minds.

And in all of those very different experiences, we have each felt the love and grace of God, although none of us in quite the same way.

Because of our difference – we are all a part of the Body of Christ. Because of our difference – we all have a seat at this table. Because of our difference – we all are called to proclaim the Word of God.

What I notice about this list of gifts here in Ephesians, is that none of these gifts call for silence. As Paul begs the people of Epheses to live up to their calling, he says that some of us are apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers… but NONE of us are benchwarmers. NONE of us get to watch. ALL of us have something to share in ministry, all of us have to build up one another up, all of us are needed. The circle of chairs isn’t complete without the Word that each of us has to offer.

When Paul writes this letter to the Ephesians, he’s locked up in jail because of proclaiming the Word. And what does he have to say as a word of encouragement: Get out there and walk – better yet, run! – on the road God has called you to travel. I don’t want any of you sitting around on your hands. I don’t want anyone strolling off, down some path that goes no where… Grow up! Know the truth that is in your heart and tell it in love. (adapted from The Message)

In many ways, that is what the Roundtable Pulpit conversations are about every Tuesday morning. It’s a chance to sit together with the scriptures and for me to hear the truth that each of you has to speak around that table. It’s an acknowledgement that even though I am the pastor, I don’t have a monopoly on the Word of God – we all have something to contribute.

It is the same spirit behind a very old tradition called Lectio Divina, or Holy Reading, that has been transformed into a new practice in some congregations. All of those who gather around the table are invited to hear the word of God, ponder it in their hearts and then speak the truths that they have received. And as we celebrate the word this morning, I want to invite you to practice this with me.

First of all, I need for all of us to find here in the sanctuary a small group of people – five or six is a good size, and make sure you are close enough to hear one another speak. Once we are all settled, I’ll have a few more instructions =)

Lectio Divina has four parts and the easy way to remember is that they all have something to do with eating. First, we take a bite of the scripture, we pay attention to a word or phrase that jumps out at us as we hear and read it. Second, we chew on that word or phrase as we hear the scripture a second time – why did it speak to us? what does it have to say? Third, we savor and celebrate the Word that has come to us by sharing it with others. Fourth, we digest the Word and make it a part of our lives.

We will go through each of these four stages together, and before each one, I will read our scripture, and then invite you to share with those around you how you would respond to the question on the screens.

Christ-Colored Glasses

Parker Palmer is someone who often writes about life changes and how to navigate them with faith. In college, his book, “Let your Life Speak” became required reading for all students as they thought about what vocation was calling their name. And in his book, The Active Life, he writes about a moment of insight and transformation in his own life:

I took the course in my early fourties, and in the middle of that course I was asked to confront the thing I had fears about since I had first heard about Outward Bound: a gossamer strand was hooked to a harness around my body, I was backed up to the top of a 110-foot cliff, and I was told to lean out over God’s own emptiness and walk down the face of that cliff to the ground eleven stories below.

I remember the cliff all too well. It started wit ha five-foot drop onto a small ledge, then a ten-foot drop to another ledge, then a third and final drop all the way down. I tried to negotiate the first drop; but my feet instantly went out from under me, and I fell heavily to the first ledge. “I don’t think you have it quite yet,” the instructor observed astutely. “You are leaning too close to the rock face. You need to lean much farther back so your feet with grip the wall.” That advice went against my every instinct. Surely one should hug the wall, not lean out over the void! But on the second drop I tried to lean back; better, but not far enough, and I hit the second ledge with a thud not unlike the first. “You still don’t have it,” said the ever-observant instructor. “Try again.”

Since my next try would be the last one, her counsel was not especially comforting. But try I did, and much to my amazement I found myself moving slowly down the rock wall. Step-by-step I made my way with growing confidence until, about halfway down, I suddenly realized that I was heading toward a very large hole in the rock, and- not knowing anything better to do – I froze. The instructor waited a small eternity for me to thaw out, and when she realized I was showing no signs of life she yelled up, “Is anything wrong, Parker?” as if she needed to ask. To this day I do not know the source of my childlike voice that came up from within me, but my response is a matter of public record. I said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The instructor yelled back, “Then I think it’s time you learned the Outward Bound Motto.” Wonderful, I thought. I am about to die, and she is feeding me a pithy saying. But then she spoke words I have never forgotten, words so true that they empowered me to negotiate the rest of that cliff without incident: “If you can’t get out of it, get into it.” Bone-deep I knew that there was no way out of this situation except to go deeper into it, and with that knowledge my feet began to move.

No matter how old we are, or experienced we are, or how familiar with the world we may be, there is a moment in each of our lives when something shifts – when we begin to see things in a whole new and transformed way. A moment where we let go of our fears and our old way of seeing things and suddenly the whole world opens up.

In many ways I had one of those moments at Annual Conference this year. For the most part, it was your regular old, run of the mill conference. We debated issues and voted on little keypads, we worshipped together and got to spend time with colleagues. But there were a few moments – here and there – where my world got turned upside down by the turn of a phrase or by a challenge issued forth from the pulpit or lectern, or a passage in the book that I took along with me.

After worship today, if you are able to stick around for our Administrative Board meeting, I’m going to be sharing a few of those challenges with the congregation. But for this morning – in light of our scripture readings I want to focus on just one… something that Bishop Trimble said from the pulpit…

“I don’t want you to tell me what’s impossible.”

Bishop Trimble was asking all of us to take a leap of faith, to take a risk and to step out on behalf of the God that we worship and to stop saying the word can’t. Things like…. We can’t start a ministry with the local Hispanic community because none of us know Spanish… He doesn’t want to hear it. We can’t grow our church because we live in a dying and aging county… He doesn’t want to hear it. We can’t be renewed and revitalized and transformed because we are a church that is already here and doing what we are supposed to be doing… He doesn’t want to hear it.

That last one is actually my own take on our Nicodemus story from this morning. In John’s gospel, this religious leader seeks Jesus out in the middle of the night to ask him some questions. He’s curious. He probably believes in many ways that Jesus – the young upstart that he is – has something to teach him. He’s willing to listen. But when Jesus starts talking metaphorically about being born again, suddenly this inquisitive Pharisee puts on his jaded glasses of disbelief and doubt.

What on earth are you talking about? You can’t be born again after you have grown old already? What, am I going to crawl back into my mother’s womb?

And Jesus looks him square in the eye – Don’t tell me what’s impossible.. Yes, you HAVE to be born of water and the Spirit to enter the Kingdom of God. You have to be reborn, replenished, revived by God’s grace… you have to accept the gift of life that I am offering you. All you have to do is say yes… and it’s yours. Don’t tell me what’s impossible.

Judith McDaniel suggests that this passage in John is as much about our ruts of disbelief and doubt as they are about those of Nicodemus. “we collect pennies from heaven when what is being offered is unimagined wealth… the very kingdom of God,” she writes. “Jesus is telling Nicodemus, and us, that God’s kingdom is here. The kingdom of God is not some far-off goal to be attained, for there is nothing we can do to attain it. The kingdom is present now, as a gift from God. Only God can gift us, can beget us as a totally new being in a new world.”

In other words, just take off those jaded glasses of disbelief and doubt and try these ones on for size. These Christ-colored glasses of truth and reality will open you up to the radical transforming power of God’s Spirit and I promise you… everything will be seen in a new light.

“In fact,” Emmanuel Larety writes, “to be in tune with God’s reign and presence we all need a transformative overhaul of our traditional ways of seeing and being… knowing and experiencing the world… [and] when this happens, it is as if we have begun life all over again.” (46, B-4)

As I think about what is happening in this congregation, I absolutely see signs of rebirth and awakening. And you know what the first clue was for me… Not once has someone said to me… We can’t. Not once has any committee or group or person said that we couldn’t do something – that it was impossible.

But I think that transformed way of seeing started long before I ever got here. I think that the summer before I arrived, when you were seriously contemplating with one another what the future of this church would be, you found yourselves on the side of the cliff with Parker Palmer. You were stuck dangling there by a thread, not being able to go back to the way things were before… perhaps not even wanting to, but also not quite knowing the steps to take next. And that motto from Upward Bound comes to my mind… “If you can’t get out of it, get into it.”

And so you dug your heels into it and took the leap of faith and were willing to find some way to move around on that cliff. That step of trust happened long before I got here, and in many ways, it is that transformation in the way you see and experience the world that has allowed me to do what I need to do.

So we definitely are on track for the first part of the Bishop’s challenge… and for responding to Jesus plea with us and Nicodemus from our gospel reading today. We are open to the possibility of transformation, of being made into something different. We are ready to say – Yes, Lord… Melt us, Mold us, Fill us, Use us… just send your Spirit upon us!

I think we are ready to see ourselves in a new light… but this morning, I want to extend that call just one step farther… I want to challenge us to look at the world and its people in this new light too.

That’s the challenge presented to us in our letter to the Corinthians this morning. Paul is begging his brothers and sisters not just to see themselves as transformed, but to see everything in a whole new way… For the love of Christ, Paul writes, urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them… From now one, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view… if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see everything has become new!

What Paul is saying is that if you are in Christ, if you are wearing your Christ-colored glasses, the whole world and everyone who is in it is transformed before your eyes. As John Stendahl puts it, if we see in the imagination of our hearts, ourselves, our foes, and this old world all thus transfigured by the death of Christ, will we not deal differently with each? (138, B-4)

If we are going to be transformed… if we are going to be the living Body of Christ in this community… then we have to see everything differently. We need to see that cliff we are on not as a challenge, but as an opportunity. We need to dig in our heels and dive in deep to this part of the world that we find ourselves.

This past week, we had a horrible tragedy in our community. In fact, as we were driving home from Annual Conference late on Sunday afternoon, we drove right by the house on L Avenue where the unspeakable happened. And I got to thinking about the theme of our whole conference – radical hospitality – and what it means to invite and welcome people into our midst.

As your pastor, I knew that there were people hurting in this community following this tragedy. I knew that there were people feeling forsaken who needed to be surrounded in prayer. I knew that we were lost in how to respond. And so I set up a space for prayer here in the building. And I contacted a few of the people I knew who had been personally affected and let them know about it.

I had no idea if anyone would show up. I had no idea what I could possibly say or offer – except I knew that Christ was here.

I’m not sure that anyone physically showed up. But I know people were affected by the fact that such a place even existed – that there was a place – whether they decided to come or not – where they could go. A place where people who were lost and hurting would be welcomed with open arms.

That is after all, how we started this worship service… with a cry to gather us in.

Here in this place, new light is streaming
now is the darkness vanished away,
see, in this space, our fears and our dreamings,
brought here to you in the light of this day.
Gather us in the lost and forsaken
gather us in the blind and the lame;
call to us now, and we shall awaken
we shall arise at the sound of our name.

Becoming Disciples through: Service

The other night my husband and I had finished dinner and I stood up to clear the table and take away our plates.

As he handed me his dish he said, “you know, you don’t have to wait on me, I can take my own plates to the kitchen.”

And without even thinking about it, I responded, “I know – but I do it because I love you.”

How many of you are familiar with Gary Chapman’s book “The Five Love Languages’?

A long time ago, a friend gave me the book, and I immediately thought about those five languages when I made that statement to my husband.

I try to do little things to help out because that is one of the ways that I most naturally express my love for him. Gary Chapman calls that acts of service.

Service? Hey – we’re talking about service today! And we are exploring specifically how we express our love of God through acts of service.

Curiousity got the better of me, and I took another quick look at how our five membership vows match up with these five love languages Chapman examines in his books.

We started out with prayer as a way of discipleship… and talked about how we should aim to pray more deeply. Using the metaphor of breathing, our prayers should not be shallow quick breaths, but deep, filling breaths in and out. In Chapman’s languages of love, quality time is about focusing all of our energy on another person so that the time we spend with one another is not simply hanging out, but is a deep sharing of who you are. In many ways, our prayers are how we spend quality time with God, focusing our attention on God’s will for our lives, rather than our own wishes and desires.

Then we looked at what it means to be present as an expression of our discipleship. While it isn’t an immediate fit, Chapman lists physical intimacy and touch as one of his love languages. In so many ways, our presence with one another, our physical presence with people who are hurting is an expression of our love not only for them, but also for God. We literally become the hands and feet of God who hold and comfort and who smile and are close to one another. Our Lord and Savior became human and lived among us – touching the sick and the young and the old and the forgotten in order to express the love of God to the world, and we respond by doing the same.

Last week we talked about our gifts. We are not only given amazing and beautiful gifts by God, but in response, we share those gifts for God’s work in the world. Easy tie in to Chapman’s love language of giving and receiving gifts. I think something that we can easily learn from his description of giving gifts is that we are not investing money (or time) in these gifts, but through the gift, we are deepening our relationship with God. People who have shared with me that they tithe regularly often talk about what a joy it is and how it really does bring them closer to God.

I’m definitely going to have to remember this book next time this sermon series comes around, because our fifth vow next week also correlates pretty well to one of Chapman’s five languages – words of affirmation. Now, witnessing to our faith is not quite the same thing as offering encouragement to a loved one – but in both cases, we sing their praises as we share with the world what is great about either our loved one or about God. Next week, we not only will be celebrating Pentecost – the coming of the Spirit that helps us to witness, but we will also be confirming some of our youth – and will be encouraging them in the faith as they witness to what they have learned in this past year.

But for today – it’s all about service.

And not only for Chapman, but also in our life of faith, service is about love.

Attitude is everything when it comes to service – and our call to service is a call to act out of love and not obligation, to act not out of resentment or guilt or fear or even duty – but out of the depths of our hearts.

In every way, Memorial Day, is about honoring the service of men and women throughout our nation’s history who have done just that. They showed their love for friends, neighbors, and fellow citizens in such a way that they were willing to give even their lives.

In both of our scriptures today, we are reminded that there is no greater love than to lay down our lives for one another. From our Epistle reading, we are commanded to love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.

While accounts may vary, Memorial Day began initially as community celebrations honoring the fallen soldiers who gave their lives to battle slavery. Their words of equality and love of neighbor were transformed into moral truths and action on behalf of the disenfranchised and they deserved to be honored. But, because initially these acts of memorialization were so closely tied with the fight for emancipation, the Southern states quickly established their own rival “Confederate Memorial Day.”

These community acts of decorating graves were then made official by an order from General John Logan that Memorial Day be on the 30th of May and on the first Memorial Day in 1868, flowers were placed on the graves of both Union and Confederate soldiers in Arlington Cemetery. But in the effort to put the differences of both sides behind us, the recognition that the Civil War had been a moral battle to free black Americans from slavery was lost. It became more of a generic remembrance of all war dead, while at the same time losing the specific passions of truth and justice that characterized its beginnings.

David Blight wrote about this loss in his book “Race and Reunion.” “War commemorations, he makes clear, do not just pay tribute to the war dead.” They should also honor what those men and women died for – the truth and the action that go along with the sacrifice.

I really struggle with talking about national interests in church. Our time of worship should be focused on God and not on our country. We are coming together to worship the one who is Lord over every nation – not just ours. In many ways, when we become Christian we cease to simply be American.

And yet, in many ways, so many of our soldiers have fallen for that reason – to protect and defend and to free the lives of God’s children all over the world from tyrannies of injustice and oppression. They have put their lives on the line not because of duty but because they genuinely want to make a difference in the lives of people across God’s creation.

They choose to serve in that capacity because they believe that it is in the armed forces that they can make the biggest impact.

Do you remember the question that I asked you at the beginning of this sermon series? I shared with you that the mission of the United Methodist Church is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. And I asked very pointedly, how many of you thought that was possible. I asked how many of you really felt equipped and empowered by the church to go out and make a difference in the world.

I believe that tomorrow, we should fully honor our fallen brothers and sisters who died because they believed that the world could be different – because they loved other people enough to put their lives on the line.

But today, I believe that we should lament the fact that our church has not shared our story in such a compelling way. I believe that we should lament the fact that we don’t have strong enough convictions in the power of God to change the world. I believe we should lament the fact that we aren’t out there in the world, putting our lives on the line every day in service to others.

Bishop Robert Schnasse has called churches to be fruitful for God’s Kingdom and one of the ways we can do so is through risk-taking mission and service. Just as in our gospel reading from today, we are called and appointed to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, and the root of that fruit is God’s love. Schansse writes that “nothing is more central to faith identity and to the church’s mission than transforming the lives and conditions of people by offering oneself in God’s name. Nearly every page of Scripture shows people serving God by serving others.”

I’m often asked what the difference is between doing community service and serving people through the church. And usually my response has something to do with the fact that God is the reason behind our service when we do it in the church. We have been loved by our Creator and Redeemer and so through God’s power we pour ourselves out to other people.

But as I read a bit more of Schnasse’s book this week, I also realized a big difference comes in the “risk-taking” element. “Risk-taking mission and service takes people into ministries that push them out of their comfort zone, stretching them beyond the circle of relationships and practices that routinely define their faith commitments.” In other words, when God is in charge, we have no idea where we might end up!

This was certainly true for me on my very first international mission trip. I went with youth from my church to Peru and we had this grandiose idea that we could change the world and make a difference! We believed in the power of God to work through us. We definitely had the first part right!

What we never expected was how we ourselves would also be transformed. As we found ourselves in a completely different culture, making friends with people who looked nothing like us, loving people who were unlovable by their society’s standards, we became different people.

Schnasse writes that “the stretch of Christian discipleship is to love those for whom it is not automatic, easy, common or accepted. To love those who do not think like us or live like us, and to express respect, compassion and mercy to those we do not know and who may never be able to repay us – this is the love Christ pulls out of us.”

This is God’s abiding love that gives us the power to respond when we see a brother or sister in need. This is God’s abiding love that gives us the ability to speak truth to power when there are injustices in the world. This is God’s abiding love that leads us to lay down our lives for one another.

Now, the big question is – how do I live this out through the church.

Oftentimes, when I have heard this topic of service mentioned in the church, it comes with one of two demands. 1) we need to get more people to serve on the committees in the church. or 2) we need to get more people involved in mission and outreach.

The truth of the matter is, we need people to serve in all sorts of different places. In order to have people serving on the front lines of God’s Kingdom, we need people serving on the church finance committee who will hold the church accountable for their resources, and we need an administrative board and PPR that will help us to discern and express God’s vision for our church.

But, we also need people who are willing to go wherever God will lead us.

If you are feeling called and led to go and serve God’s children in a malaria ridden village in Africa – and you want to put your whole life into God’s service – we want to support and encourage you and equip you.

If you are feeling called to make sure those who are struggling financially in our community have food on the table every day – and you are willing to put your whole life into God’s service – we want to support and encourage and equip you.

If you are feeling called to listen to the person who disagrees with you across the table in our church office and work together to really make a difference in how we teach our children – and if you are willing to put your whole life into God’s service in that way – then we want to support and encourage and equip you.

The truth of the matter is, if we can’t love and serve the person who sits down the pew from us or across the table in the fellowship hall, then we aren’t ready to be out in the world loving and serving other people. But here is where we practice, here is where we learn. And here is where we are sent out into the world to serve. Amen and Amen.

Becoming Discples through: Presence

This week I planted my first ever vegetable garden. Now, I have helped my parents and grandparents in the garden many times, but this is the first time that these beautiful plants are all my responsibility.

I’ve prepared the ground. I dug little holes and planted the seeds and the seedlings. I have watered my garden and I’m waiting anxiously for sprouts to appear. And more than anything – I’m waiting for the fruits of my labor, the work of my very own hands – carrots and tomatoes and cucumbers and all of the other wonderful things that I planted.

I guess with all of this blood, sweat and tears… yes, I have the blisters on my hands to prove it… it might come as no surprise that I’m resonating a little bit with the vinedresser from our mornings gospel reading.

But can I also say that I am terrified that I am going to make a mistake? What if I don’t water the plants often enough? Or water them too often? What if I get busy and forget about weeding for a few days and pull up the sprouts with the weeds? As I begin to think about all of the ways that I could possibly fail in this gardening task, any bit of that pride starts to slip away as I realize how human I am, and how not like God the vinedresser.

As I thought about that garden in my backyard this week, I also got to thinking about another garden that I’m a part of – another garden that I am tending.

A pastoral theologian named Margaret Kornfeld talks about the congregation, the church, as a garden that needs to be tended. In her book, Cultivating Wholeness, she shares how we are all grounded in communities of care – or in the case of this church, a particular community of care. Using the work of theologian Marin Buber, she says “we can live together… because of our relationship to God who is at our Center. Through this relationship, community is formed… because of our relationship to God at the Center, we are connected to each other. However, it is not the community members’ connection to each other that comes first, but the quality of relation with the Center.”

In other words… our church – this Body of Christ is a garden. And we are all connected to one another not because we live in the same place, or attend the same church, or even like the same things… but we are all connected to one another because of our relationships with God. Christ is the vine, we are the branches.

In some ways, I help to tend this garden. I am here to love and care for you. I’m here to nurture you and help organize you into rows and to lead the tendrils of this particular vine up a stake so that it can grow better – to give the vine direction and guidance.

But there is one part of my job that is a little harder to understand and talk about… what to do about dead and dying branches.

Today, as we think about what it means to be a member of this body of Christ, we look at the second of our vows: we vow to support the ministries of the church through our presence.

As we think about how important our presence is in the community, let me tell you a parable about a gardener who had a plot of cucumbers.

This gardener had been very careful to select the best seeds, and plant each one at its proper depth. He fertilized and watered the plants, he worked the soil faithfully each week to prevent weeds from encroaching and he sprayed to prevent bugs and blights from afflicting the young plants.

The season was a good one – just the right amount of rain and sunshine, and on the vines appeared broad green leaves and in due course the blooms. It looked magnificent.

One day he noticed that here and there certain leaves were dying, certain blooms fading. Most of the leaves remained a healthy glossy green, but scattered among them were those turning brown. Why, he wondered, would some die in the midst of all the living? So he investigated.

Stepping carefully among the tangled mass of vines he traced the ones on which the leaves and blooms were dying, until he found that they were all connected to a single stem. There, just above the ground, cut-worms had severed the stalk. The entire vine above that point was dying because it was no longer attached to the roots and the stem that had produced it.

As I thought about this topic of presence, I realized that in many ways I would be preaching to the choir this morning… Most of us who would be here in the church today are already people who are connected to the congregation and to one another in one way or another. You are the healthy, glossy green leaves.

So in some ways, this message is a reminder about why we need to be present, why we need to abide in Christ, why we need to remain connected to the vine.

That parable of the cucumber plant reminds us that we will die spiritually, that we are incapable of producing fruit, when we are not attached to the vine, or when we are not connected to the roots which nourish us. And the vine that we need to be connected to is Christ – the Christ we meet in worship, the Christ we meet in fellowship, the Christ we meet in God’s Word, the Christ we meet in the face of the stranger.

It also reminds us that when we are attached we will naturally produce fruit. I did some reading and found out that the best grapes closest to the vine, “where the nutrients are the most concentrated.” (Nancy Blakely) In fact, growers of grapes know the importance of pruning, because the farther away from the vine the grapes are, the more bitter and the smaller they are. But close in, close to the heart of the vine, abiding near the heart, they find the nourishment they need and produce bountifully.

This is what the abiding we read about in John and 1 John is all about. “Here, up close to the vine, immersed in [God’s love and peace], we find not only nourishment but also hope and joy, and we let God’s word ‘find a home in us through faithful devotion…. ‘When we remain that close to Jesus, we attuned to him and he to us, the remarkable result is that what we want will be what God wants, and it will surely come to pass.’” (Kate Huey’s lectionary reflection with Nancy Blakely)

In some ways, this is a deeply personal process, as we grow closer to God in our private prayers and devotional life. But it is also deeply communal. Because Christ is not a million little vines that each of us find a place to connect to – but one true vine, one true body – and abiding in Jesus means that we also need to be in deep relationship with one another. Perhaps this is why the image of the grapevine is so powerful… grapes do not grow as solitary fruits, but in bunches.

While our gospel reading focuses on the fruit that God will produce in us, if we remain connected to the vine, our epistle from this morning tells us what that fruit looks like: “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”

You know that old hymn, they will know that we are Christians by our love? This is in part where it comes from. Our love for one another, our presence with one another, and the WAY that we are present with one another, is a strong witness to the world that something different is going on in the church. We aren’t meant to go it alone.

No… Abiding in Christ is about loving our brothers and sisters… ALL of our brothers and sisters. If we are abiding in Christ, then we have the strength to love those in the church who we disagree with. If we are abiding in Christ, then we have the strength to reach out to those who have wronged us. If we are abiding in Christ, then we have the strength to love without fear even those who society might turn away.

We are called to be present – to be connected to the vine and because of the vine to one another. And when we are really connected, when we are abiding in God, the fruit of love will show forth.

Which leads me back to the dead and dying branches. Those leaves and blossom on the vine that are fading and turning brown.

My least favorite part of being a pastor, of being the church, is figuring out what to do about the dead and dying branches. Those people in our midst who are connected and present in name only – or perhaps who show up every so often but are not deeply abiding in the vine… who aren’t close enough to the vine to be filled with the spirit and with nourishment and with Christ’s love.

The church body has a process for “pruning” these dead and dying branches on the vine. Our Book of Discipline clearly states that it is the pastor’s responsibility for ensuring that each member of the congregation is living up to their vows to be loyal to Christ through the church and to faithfully participate by their prayers, their presence, their gifts, their service and their witness.

Now – of that whole list of things, the one that is the easiest to see people are not living up to is their presence. We don’t take attendance in church, at least we don’t check off names to see who is here and who isn’t – but we could. My clergy mentor told me that her congregation has a process where if you haven’t shown up for a month, you get a postcard in the mail. If you haven’t shown up for two months, you get a phone call. If you haven’t show up to any event in the church (and I’m not talking just about worship either) for three months, then you get a visit from the pastor.

Now, we don’t have a process like that here at the church, so I was interested to know how this was working out. What Pastor Karen also told me was that by the time they got to that first three month mark, she had so many people to visit that she didn’t know what to do!

Now, we could act like God the vinedresser and simple snip those dead and wilted branches off the vine, throw them in the fire and forget about them – just like I did with all of the dead hostas as I cleared out room for the new ones to grow this spring.

But I have to believe that a God who also talks about grafting might have a little bit more grace for some of our dead and dying branches.

Grafting is a process where a branch can be attached to the trunk and roots of another tree – in many cases, different types of trees and plants are connected together for hybridization and for strength and growth.

In the scriptures, Paul talks about the Gentiles being grafted on to the tree and the roots of Israel after some of the branches were broken off – the unfaithful among the people of Israel. And Paul writes to his gentile audience… “they were broken off because of their unbelief, but you stand only through faith.… And even those of Israel, if they do not persist in unbelief, will be grafted in, for God has the power to graft them in again. For if you have been cut from what is by nature a wild olive tree and grafted, contrary to nature, into a cultivated olive tree, how much more will these natural branches be grafted back into their own olive tree.”

None of us are perfect. All of us let things besides God into the center of our lives at one time or another. And there are many people in our congregation right now who are not connected to the vine, or who are being disconnected by the cut-worms of work or family or doubt.

I know that some of you have expressed concerns about how low attendance has been on some Sundays, or the fact that it seems like the same group of people are the ones who always show up for events or bible studies. I hear that. But what I hear from Paul in Romans is a word of hope. It is a reminder that even those branches that appear to be dead and dying have the ability to be restored by God’s grace.

What I have realized though, is that we can’t sit like a planted vine in a pot and wait for God’s grace to reconnect others to us. That is perhaps the limitation of the vine metaphor – it makes us think that we are supposed to be rooted and fixed in place.

But when we read our passage from John in context, we notice that right before our gospel reading for today, Jesus has finished dinner with his disciples and is getting ready to move. “Rise” he says, “Let us be on our way.” And then he starts into a long goodbye speech to his disciples, reminding them of everything that they need to know to continue on without him. This vine is not meant to be planted firmly in the ground, but is meant to move and be engaged in the world! (Kate Huey’s reflection, Charles Cousar)

Just as we take fellowship and God’s word to our homebound members who are unable to physically be present with us on Sunday mornings – or to our members who are residents at Rose Haven or those in the hospital, so too do we need to take the vine with us to those who are in danger of being cut off.

I want to challenge us as a church to go as the hands and feet of Christ and perhaps be the reconnection point for someone that you know. It might be your own son or daughter. It might be a friend. It might be a neighbor who hasn’t been in a very long time. With God’s grace and strength flowing through us, simply sit with them for a while. Have a cup of coffee together. Ask how they are doing. And as a first step in this process of grafting, simply be present. Let the love of God that abides in you overflow into your love for them.

A few conversations down the road, maybe invite them to come to church with you one Sunday, or to a small group gathering. But for now, I want to challenge you to simply be present – to carry God’s abiding love and grace to those who you know are disconnected.

AND – I want you to tell me about it. Invite me to come along for a cup of coffee if you want. Help me to be a part of the process of tending and pruning and let me hold you accountable to continue in that relationship of simply being present.

Because we don’t do this whole faith thing alone. It takes all of us, living together in love to be the body of Christ in the world. We are not alone. Amen and Amen.