music – Salvaged Faith

Sing! Play! Summer! – Hymn of Promise / In the Garden

Posted on August 11, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 46:8-13

I’m just going to say it out loud…
these have been some difficult weeks we have shared together:
The loss and grief we have experienced…
The pain in the world in the wake of mass shootings and the crisis of migration and climate…
The sense of helplessness about being able to do anything to make it better…

When I find myself feeling discouraged, vulnerable, and down about the world, it is usually the church that helps me to feel better.
The people… the songs… the prayer… the time spent in the presence of God.
But as United Methodists these days, there is also a sense that the church itself is stuck. Broken. Falling apart. We are so busy arguing about who is right and what should be done that we are completely out of tune with the real, deep needs of the world.

But then I sat down and began to study a number of chapters from our lesson for this morning.
God called this prophet to speak a word of comfort and release to a community in exile:
“Speak compassionately to Jerusalem and proclaim that her compulsory service has ended.” (40:2)
“I am the Lord your God, who grasps your strong hand, who says to you, Don’t fear; I will help you.” (41:13)
“I, the Lord, will respond to them; I, the God of Israel, won’t abandon them.” (41:17)
“I announced, I saved, I proclaimed, not some stranger among you. You are my witnesses, says the Lord, and I am God.” (43:12)
“Look! I’m doing a new thing; now it springs up; don’t you recognize it? I’m making a way in the desert, paths in the wilderness.” (43:19)
“Listen to me, house of Jacob… who have been borne by me since pregnancy, whom I carried from the womb until you grow old. I am the one, and until you turn gray I will support you.” (46:3-4)

“Remember this and take courage; take it to heart, you rebels… I am God! There’s none like me who tells the end at the beginning… saying ‘My plan will stand; all that I decide I will do.’” (46:8-10)

God, through Isaiah, is not speaking to a bunch of people who have it all together.
This is not a message for the perfect or the righteous.
This good news isn’t offered to people who have never known pain or hardship or frustration or grief.
No… they are wallowing in it.
Their country has been destroyed. Their loved ones killed. Their very way of life has crumbled.
They are struggling to make sense of what it means to go on, to take the next step, to move forward when everything familiar has been taken away.

And the words they hear from their God… The words WE need to hear from God…
“this, too, shall pass.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Remember.”
“Look around for the gifts in the grief.”
“I’ve got you.”
“In the beginning is the end, in the end is the beginning.”

Do any of those words offer answers? No.
Do they make it better right now? No.
But they do remind us that we are not alone.
They remind us that human life and institutions are fragile… just like the grass that dries up and the flower that withers (Isaiah 40:8)… but that we have been and are and will be held by and sustained by a word and a promise and a plan and a power that has always been and always will be.
These words of comfort offer strength when we might collapse in despair.
They invite us to be present. To pay attention. To embrace the unknown.
To trust that this moment is not all of the story or the end of the story.

This summer, we have been exploring the favorite songs of Immanuel and today we have grouped together two hymns that sing aloud those truths: “Hymn of Promise” and “In the Garden.”

When Natalie Sleeth wrote, “Hymn of Promise,” she was inspired by a line from T.S. Eliot that “in our end is our beginning” and the way the world itself reawakens with every spring. What is the nature of life and death when we hold in our hearts the promise of resurrection?
This hymn is yet another of these great songs we have been sharing that was written by a United Methodist. Her husband was a UM pastor and taught homiletics at Perkins while she shared her love of music in a local church and began writing anthems and hymns. She is the composer who brings us “Joy in the Morning” and reminds us that songs rise from silence, darkness becomes light, and death gives way to the victory of life.
But what I appreciate the most about Sleeth’s work is that it doesn’t paper over our grief or our discomfort or pain with flowery words.
It dives right into them.
She acknowledges them.
And she creates room for us to embrace that even in that brokenness and apparent death the mystery of wholeness and life and peace that is on the horizon.

We need to hang on to that mystery of the unknown.
I’m reminded of the words of Matt Rawle, whose book, “What Makes a Hero?” we studied over Lent a couple of years back.
He talked about the reason why it was so difficult for people to embrace Jesus as their Savior because we want a magic wand. We want a superhero savior who “will just swoop in and fix [ our problems].” (p. 125)
But if that savior is headed towards the reality of death – there is no saving there for us.
The crowds of people drastically misunderstood how Jesus saves us.
The kingdom Jesus ushers in doesn’t start in some heaven far away, but right here and right now.
Like a mustard seed planted in a garden or yeast hidden in flour, the kingdom breaks forth out of what we thought was dead, buried, hidden away.
The kingdom is the power of new life rising out of death.
The kingdom says that in every end there is a new beginning.
Our God can take any and every broken and painful moment we experience and redeem them.
They don’t go away.
But they are transformed.

Even the death of Jesus unexpectedly brings something new out of what we thought was over and done with.
Not immediately… but with time and work and patience and not a little bit of grace and power and glory.
The mustard seed becomes a great tree.
The yeast causes the bread to rise.
In the bulb there is a flower.
The stone that sealed the tomb is rolled away.

Which takes us to that other beloved hymn of Immanuel – “In the Garden.”
I say it is beloved, but the truth is, there are probably just as many people who despise “In the Garden” as cherish it.
I remember working to plan Dorie Campbell’s funeral and as we were deciding on what songs to sing, we picked “In the Garden,” fully knowing that she would have been upset with us for doing so because she thought it was grammatically inaccurate. Others find it to be too overly personal and ever erotic.
C. Austin Miles wrote this hymn after a mediation upon the resurrection story in the gospel of John. The language he uses is personal and intimate and it draws upon a tradition of devotional poetry where one imagines themselves in the story itself, part of the scene, walking and talking with Jesus.
We are invited to step into the shoes of Mary… to enter that garden filled with grief and love… and to encounter the resurrected Christ and the joy of new life.
But we also can’t stay there.
You see, in the third verse of that hymn, we find ourselves with a dilemma.
Sometimes we want to stay at the tomb with the stone rolled away.
That one perfect moment of hope when everything had fallen apart.
It’s better. We tell ourselves.
I’m going to stay right here forever.

But we can’t stay at the empty tomb.
We need to listen to the voice of Christ calling us to go.
Go out into the world.
Go and tell others what we have experienced.
Go and share the good news.
Go and offer signs of life and hope.

Like the prophet Isaiah, in the midst of the grief and pain of the world, we can’t keep the hope and promise to ourselves. It is our duty to head back out there and offer it to everyone we meet.
“this, too, shall pass.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Remember.”
“Look around for the gifts in the grief.”
“I’ve got you.”
“In the beginning is the end, in the end is the beginning.”

Sing! Play! Summer! – Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty

Posted on July 14, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 6:1-8

“We keep a troubled vigil at the bedside of the world,” writes Howard Thurman, “Thus we clutch the moment of intimacy in worship when we become momentarily a part of a larger whole, a fleeting strength, which we pit against all the darkness and the dread of our times.

We don’t have to look too far to see darkness and dread hanging over our lives.
Illness and violence.
Poverty and oppression.
Impacts of the climate crisis.
Bullying in our schools and in our politics.
Grief and loss and discouragement.
These are the things that keep us up at night.

Thurman writes that “the moment of intimacy in worship” allows us to recharge our spiritual batteries and face once again the struggles of the world.

The moment of intimacy in worship.
The moment we personally encounter a holy, living, powerful God.
The moment when we become close to a God who is wholly other.

I think we often put God into a very small box.
Jesus is our friend and companion.
The Holy Spirit holds our hand and brings us comfort in tough times.
The Father tenderly calls us to do the right thing.
We imagine that God is just like us…
Or sometimes, that we are like God…

But the truth is, when we are facing a world of darkness and dread and problems that are just too big to tackle, we need an encounter with something… with someone… who is far beyond anything we can know or comprehend.

I am reminded of King Uzziah, whose story frames Isaiah’s encounter with the God from our scripture today.
King Uzziah was ruler over the southern kingdom of Judah and he came to be king at only 16 years of age. According to scripture (2 Kings 14:21, 15:1-7 and 2 Chronicles 26: 1-23) , he did what was right in the sight of God and had a powerful and successful reign over Judah for fifty-two years.
But all of the success God brought the nation went to King Uzziah’s head.
In the wake of military victories, Uzziah provided top of the line armor and weapons for his soldiers and fortified the city of Jerusalem with towers and archers and traps.
He was demonstrating his power, rather than trusting in God’s power.
His pride became such a problem that he entered the holiest place in the temple… that special room at the very center that only the high priest was allowed to enter, and he walked in like he owned the place and burned incense to the Lord.
Instantly, leprosy came upon Uzziah because of his prideful action and he was a leper until the day of his death.

Uzziah forgot that only God was holy.

But as his reign came to an end, Isaiah began to have visions.
He receives vision after vision of the failings of his nation, and the bloodshed and oppression his people have created when they relied upon their own might to solve their problems instead of relying upon God.

And in the year King Uzziah dies, Isaiah has an intimate encounter with the Lord.
A holy, living, powerful God.
Isaiah sees the Lord upon a throne, with just the hem of God’s robe filling the temple.
Winged creatures, seraphim flew about shouting to one another:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Heavenly Forces! All the earth is filled with God’s glory.” (Isaiah 6:3)
As the room shakes and fills with smoke, Isaiah fears for his very life: “Mourn for me; I’m ruined!”
He cries out acknowledging his own unholiness.
His own unworthiness.
The unrighteousness of his people and his nation.
God sees it all… and then this wholly other and almighty God draws close.
A glowing coal touches Isaiah’s lips.
His sin and guilt are gone.
And God sends Isaiah back out to face the darkness and dread of the world with a renewed sense of purpose and power.

This vision of the holiness of God also inspires the apostle John.
He writes the book of Revelation in a time of persecution and distress and the visions he receives bring comfort to those who are oppressed.
But again, John doesn’t encounter a God who is our friend or who is just like us…
When we are faced with true darkness and dread, we need a power that is far beyond our comprehension.
John has a vision, in Revelation chapter 4, in which a door is opened to heaven:
“I saw a throne in heaven, and someone was seated on the throne. The one seated there looked like jasper and carnelian and surrounding the throne was a rainbow that looked like an emerald. Twenty-four thrones, with twenty-four elders seated upon them, surrounded the throne… From the throne came lightning, voices, and thunder. In front of the throne were seven flaming torches, which are the seven spirits of God. Something like a glass sea, like crystal, was in front of the throne.
In the center, by the throne, were four living creatures encircling the throne. These creatures were covered with eyes on the front and on the back… [they had different faces and] each of the four living creates had six wings, and each was covered all around and on the inside with eyes. They never rest day or night, but keep on saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is coming.”
As we move to the next chapter, the Lamb appears, and then we think we might find a familiar imagine, but John’s vision describes it in this way:
“I saw a Lamb, standing as if it had been slain. It had seven horns and seven eyes, which are God’s seven spirits, sent out into the whole earth.”

The holy one is nothing like us.
Nothing like anything we experience upon this earth.
Nothing else is worthy of devotion.
Nothing else is perfect in power, in love, and in purity.
Nothing else could have created all things.
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.

These words from Isaiah chapter 6 and Revelation 4 inspired Reginald Heber when he sat down to write a hymn for Trinity Sunday.
He was a vicar in Anglican Church and had begun to put together a hymnal based around the church calendar. As he looked around for songs that spoke to the various times of the church year, he realized that he was lacking songs for that Sunday which emphasizes that doctrine of the Trinity. So, he wrote one himself.
Heber wanted to capture in this hymn the utter holiness of God in the midst of a world full of vices.
Stanton Nelson points out that the text “encourages the singer to join in an endless song” – a song sung by heavenly creatures stretching back as far as Isaiah and John and still being sung today.
Nelson also points out a few unique ways that Heber emphasizes God’s holiness.
First, if you look at the text, every line of the hymn rhymes with the word, “holy.”
Second, Heber doesn’t resort to any kind of “cheap emotionalism.” He allows us to sing of the Trinity without taking away from the mystery, the otherness of who God is.
As Heber writes, “though the darkness hide thee, though the eye of sinful man thy glory man not see.”

In a world of darkness and dread, we cannot always see the holiness of God.
But the act of worship, we can open ourselves up to an intimate encounter with God.
Do we recognize the awesome and holy and other power of God in our midst?
When Moses encountered this God in a burning bush, he was told to “come no closer! Remove your sandals for the place you are standing is holy ground!” He hid his face, afraid to even look at God. (Exodus 3:5-6)

Are we aware that there is risk involved whenever we are in God’s presence?
The book of 2 Samuel tells of how David and his select warriors went out to bring home the ark of the covenant after it had been stolen away. They brought hearts filled with praise, but when one man reached out and touched that holy vessel by accident, he died on the spot. (2 Samuel 6:15-16)

We hear these stories from the Hebrew scriptures, but too often today, we underestimate the power of truly being in the presence of God.
We are comfortable in our sanctuaries.
We sit in the same seats near friendly faces.
We watch our children play and share stories.
We sing hymns in the same way we have sung them a thousand times.
Worship has sometimes become so routine that we enter this place like King Uzziah… we come in as though we own it and like we deserve to be here.

I think sometimes, we have lost our sense of what it means to truly encounter a God that makes us uncomfortable.
A God that can shake the very foundations of this room.
A God that has the power to topple kingdoms.
A God that overcame the forces of death.
A God that heals and restores and creates a new.
A God that was is and is and is coming.
A God that is light and in whom there is no darkness at all.
A God that causes saints and cherubim and seraphim to throw off their crowns and fall on their knees.

This intimate moment that we call worship has nothing to do with instrumentation or the style or the music or what we are sitting on.
It has everything to do with personally and corporately encountering the One who has the power to change everything about our lives and the world we live in.
It is a moment not where we show God how great we are, but we offer ourselves, with all of our flaws and weaknesses, and let God transform us and use us to counter the darkness and dread of the world.
Only God is holy.
Only God is worthy.
And when we open ourselves up… even for just one moment… to connect and be drawn close to this God… we do find the strength to head back into this world with a renewed sense of purpose and power.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Chainbreaker

Posted on June 16, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 58:6-9, Psalm 107:10-16

For the first 20 or so years of my life, I understood salvation as one concrete idea: that Jesus died for my sin on the cross.
Substitutionary Atonement is what we call it. Jesus took our place. He was our substitute and paid the price for our sins so we could go to heaven.
But before too long, I discovered that I was terribly mistaken.
Not about Jesus dying for our sins.
But about thinking that was all salvation meant.

In its fullest sense, “Salvation is ‘God’s deliverance of those in a situation of need… resulting in their restoration to wholeness.’ It is restoration because salvation does not offer something new; it is God’s original intent for creation.” (Introduction, The Lord is Our Salvation)
The best word I can find to describe that original intent, the life that God intends for each of us is the word shalom.
It means completeness, wholeness, well-being.
And God’s work of salvation in Jesus Christ rescues us from whatever hell we might experience in our lives that has destroyed shalom, so we might experience life and life abundant once again.

Christ dying and paying the price for our sins is one piece of that work of salvation. But it isn’t the only one.
In fact, in the Western world, there are three major understandings of what the cross means, all different ways of talking about how Jesus saves us.
These are called atonement theories.
They describe how we become at-one again with God… how we are brought back into shalom… how we experience wholeness once again.
The first is the one most of us grew up being familiar with – a Forensic understanding of salvation. These theories say we are like a defendant on trial and have been found guilty of breaking our covenant with God. So, a penalty must be paid. Jesus knows we are guilty and out of love, pays the price for us. He satisfies the debt we owe.
The second is called Moral Example. This grouping of theories claims that the cross is the natural outcome of the life of Jesus, who spoke truth to power and dared to love those who society rejected. And in his life and death, Christ shows us how we should live, too.
The third of the major groupings is called “Christus Victor” – Christ as the Victor! This theory talks about an eternal battle between the forces of this world… good and evil, life and death, abundance and scarcity. We find ourselves trapped and imprisoned by sin and destruction, but Christ comes to set us free and restore us to wholeness.

In Psalm 107, this story of God’s redeeming love is told.
Some wandered away and found themselves lost and starving, but God rescued them from their trouble and led them back home.
Some were foolish and stumbled down a destructive path, but God rescued them from death itself and healed them.
Some set out to make their own way and their own pride became their cage, but God rescued them and brought them out of their distress to safety.
And some became prisoners, sitting in darkness, suffering in iron chains because they rebelled against God’s commands. But God rescued them and broke away their chains.

We were lost, but now are found.
We were trapped by addiction, but now we are free.
We were dragged down by our addiction, but we have been lifted up.
We were drowning in our fears, but we have been brought back to the shoreline.
We needed freedom and saving, but we’ve got a prison-shaking Savior.

For a couple of years now, we have been singing, Chainbreaker, in our contemporary worship service. Written by Zach Williams, it captures those redemptive stories of Psalm 107 and invites each of us to tell the story of how God has invited us into a better life.
Williams had been doing prison ministry through his church and wanted to speak to what God had been doing through the lives of the people he worked with… but his own life as well.
He had found himself for years walking a dead-end road and kept hearing a voice that said he wasn’t going to make it. That he was a failure. That he wasn’t good enough.
And to be honest, that is all of us. We are not good enough. We are trapped by our own mistakes and failures. We buy into the lies of this world that tell us we cannot fully claim our identity. We let our worries and our addictions and our pride bind us up like chains.

As we say in our prayer of confession before communion:
We confess that we have not loved God with our whole heart.
We have failed to be an obedient church.
We have not done God’s will.
We have broken the law.
We have rebelled against God’s love
We have not loved our neighbors.

We are those prisoners, suffering in iron chains, sitting in darkness.

But then comes the line we pray after we ask for forgiveness:
Free us for joyful obedience.
Free us for joyful obedience.
Free us.

Williams found himself trapped by that voice in his life that told him he wasn’t good enough… until Christ came along and set him free from the weight of the guilt and the chains that he was carrying around.
He found a liberating freedom and joy in surrendering his life to Christ.
But he also realized that this freedom was not a personal gift.
No, it was meant to be shared.
And there is great joy and life that is found when we in turn head back out into this world to set others free.

In Isaiah chapter 58, the people have been trying to please God in their own way, but the prophet reminds them of what God wants from them.
This is the kind of fasting that God has chosen:
“to break the chains of injustice,
get rid of exploitation in the workplace,
free the oppressed, cancel debts.
What [God is] interested in seeing you do is:
sharing your food with the hungry,
inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
being available to your own families.
Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once.”

This morning, we sent out volunteers from our church to be in mission in Memphis. As they make that long drive today, they are heading out to souls that are hungry and burdened and stuck.
Our friends and neighbors and family have the opportunity this week to tell their own stories of God’s saving love, but also help to break some chains themselves.

But you don’t have to go on a mission trip to joyfully obey God’s will.
Right here in Des Moines, you can help us tackle hunger with your food pantry donations.
You can work to honor the dignity of women and girls and speak out against human trafficking.
You can volunteer with local refugee support groups.
You can donate your funds to our annual Peace with Justice Sunday offering – which is used to help effect change in a broken world.
This offering is used to support ministries like a peace ministry on Arizona border communities and address civil rights violations in Liberia.
In North Georgia, it helped provide resources to help low-income students attend preschool.
Grants from this offering have supported the Alaska Innocence Project, that helps to exonerate wrongfully convicted individuals.

This is what God wants for us.
God wants to rescue us from the hell we experience in our lives.
Jesus wants to save us from our guilt and addiction, from our sin and temptation, from our fears and our failures.
And then the Holy Spirit empowers us to turn back around into our communities and neighborhoods so that we can help take away pain, make a way for the lost, and break the chains of all who need freedom.

The story of salvation… the story of how we are made at-one with God… is about far more than a personal debt being paid.
It is also the story of coming home… of finding our place… of being rescued from anything that holds us back so that we can be restored back into the abundant life of community God desires for us.
That better life that waits for us is not simply a heavenly destination beyond the grave…
There is a better life right here and right now, for all of us, because Christ has set us free.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Here I Am, Lord

Posted on June 2, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 1 Samuel 3: 1-11

Earlier this spring, we invited everyone at Immanuel to share with us some of your favorite hymns and songs. And this summer, we are going to highlight one of those pieces each week during our series: Sing! Play! Summer!
As the pace of activities slows down just a bit, we want to go back to those familiar songs that ground us in our faith.
We want to learn some new songs that will help us continue to grow in our faith.
And just as importantly, we want to have some fun and play and relax and let our spirits be re-energized by God and rest and recreation.
One of the pieces of our Sing! Play! Summer! Series is actually a six-week guide to summer fun and faith that we want to offer you and your families. It has some devotions, lists of related activities, new songs to learn, and ideas for making this the best summer ever!
You don’t have to do all six weeks in a row, but you could! Simply go at your own pace, enjoy this summer with your kids or grandkids or niblings or neighbors, and be sure to check out our church website for audio versions of the songs included!

Our very first song of the summer is actually the number one favorite song of the people of Immanuel: Here I Am, Lord!
This is also one of MY favorite songs and so we thought we’d kick off our summer series with the best of the lot 😊
Here I Am, Lord was written by Dan Schutte in 1981 and he based his work on two different call stories in scripture: Isaiah’s call in chapter 6 and Samuel’s call that we just heard a few minutes ago.
In fact, we were originally going to use the Isaiah story… but we are going to save that one for another Sunday coming up very soon!

The verses of the song remind us that the creator of everything in this world: the snow, the rain, the sea, the skies, the stars… this Creator God is not far removed from us, but hears every cry of God’s people. God feels our pain and weeps with love for us.
And God will not leave us in our despair and our sin, God actively works to save us! He provides bread, light, life itself… but… and most importantly… God does so through people like you and me.
Mr. Schutte comes out of the Jesuit tradition in the Catholic church and actually wrote this hymn for a mass for the ordination of Deacons in the church.
As he described the words of the chorus, he wanted to capture that sense that we as God’s people, aren’t always so sure about answering that call.
He writes: “In all those stories, all of those people God was calling to be prophets have expressed in one way or another their humanness or their self-doubt.”
So he adapted the sure-footed response from the mass to the words that perhaps we all find ourselves speaking:
Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?
Are you actually speaking… to me?

The chorus of this hymn takes us to that call that keeps coming again and again to the young boy Samuel in the middle of the night.
Samuel serves in the temple with the priest Eli and that night is charged with the duty of keeping the lamps burning until dawn in the part of the temple where the ark of the covenant was kept.
As we are reminded each winter when the peace light from Bethlehem comes through, it is not easy to keep a lamp burning over night. You worry the oil will go out or the wick will burn through.
So Samuel is sleeping there on his mat in the temple so that he can get up periodically and check on the lamp.
And there in the night… in the dark… God speaks to him.
We don’t know how old Samuel might be in this part of the story, a boy is all the scriptures say, but he has spent his entire life in the temple. His mother Hannah was barren and prayed with all her might for a child. When her prayer was answered she brought the child before God and left him in the care of Eli, the priest and Samuel grew up in the temple, serving the Lord.

But I think too often we focus on how Samuel heard his call and forget the details of what that call was TO.
You see, Eli had two sons: Hophni and Phinehas, and they were the worst pastor’s kids you have ever met.
When people came to offer sacrifices, some of the meat was always given to the priests for their service. But the boys wouldn’t wait until the sacrifice was over… but they would grab a chunk of the choicest meat right off the fire.
Today, it would be like if the pastor’s kid stopped the offering plates as they were being passed, took out the largest bills they could find for themselves, and then allowed everything to proceed. And they did it with threat of violence.
Not only that, but they also sexually harassed the women who served at the temple.
Samuel would have grown up, seeing the actions of these two young men, and likely would have been troubled in his heart by their example.
Maybe he even cried out himself, asking God to do something about it.
Well, God heard the cries of the people and God promised this injustice would end.
And God called Samuel in the night and gave him a vision of what he was supposed to do in response. Of the kind of leader he was supposed to become.

As a junior in college, I was convinced that I was going to be a meteorologist when I grew up. But I was also in leadership with the Religious Life Council at Simpson and had been involved in ministry through my local church. One afternoon, the chaplain called me into his office and invited me and a few other students to an event called, “Exploration.”
It was a conference for young people who felt like they were hearing a call to ministry – a place to explore what that meant for their lives.
I don’t remember much about that gathering, except for one worship service.
Bishop Minerva Carcaño was preaching… in fact, she might not have even been a bishop at that point… and before her message she read aloud for us the call story that Tony just shared with us in our scripture reading.
Bishop Carcaño is Latina and what I simply can’t get out of my mind is her calling out, over and over again through the scripture and her message that name in her gentle dialect:
“Samuel! Samuel!” (heard phonetically as Sam-well!)
Hearing her say that name in such a different dialect helped me to hear the entire passage in a new way. It was like it struck a new chord and snuck into every corner of my mind.
The entire drive home from that event, I thought about all of the people throughout my life who had been calling me into a certain type of ministry:
First it was my pastor, Bruce Ough, who is now a bishop of the church. He called me into his office after I gave the sermon for the youth sunrise service at my church and told me I was going to be a pastor someday.
Then it was my youth leader, Todd Rogers, who kept lifting me up into leadership and preparing me for a pastoral role, whether I wanted to accept it or not.
That voice of God had come through teachers and fellow students who had been gently encouraging me to consider starting down the path of pastoral ministry even as I ran in the other direction.
I realized that like Samuel, I thought I was simply hearing the voice of my pastor or my teacher.
I had never stopped to consider before that weekend that perhaps it wasn’t just a human voice after all….
Perhaps God was speaking to me and inviting me into a particular role in the world!

The reality is, God doesn’t just speak to people being called into professional ministry or to prophets from the Old Testament.
God speaks to all of us.
God is looking around at this world that you live and move and breathe in and God hears the cries of the people around us:
The fear and anger surrounding gun violence and mass shootings.
The reality of climate change and its impact upon our neighbors… especially farmers and those along rivers in the Midwest right now.
The impact not only of mental illness, but also desperation because of the lack of resources to respond.
The sense of isolation and abandonment experienced by LGBT youth who are turned away from their families.
The physical hunger of our neighbors young and old.
The crisis of desperation that leads some women to seek to have an abortion.
The stress upon the lives of our youngest people that impacts their ability to learn in a classroom.
The realities of addiction that lead so many to end up on the streets or in our prisons.
These are the cries that God hears. These are some of the people for whom God, out of great love is weeping.
And these are all places where I have seen and heard that you as people of Immanuel have heard God calling you to do something.
They are the things keeping you up at night…
Nudging at you…
Tugging at your heartstrings…

And friends… when God starts calling, God doesn’t stop!
I see so many of you answering God’s call through your work and your volunteer time.
You show up faithfully in classrooms and work with kids outside of school.
You are present with vulnerable and hurting folks at hospitals and in prisons and in shelters.
You are organizing with others to make an impact upon this world, to put your prayers into action.
You are present and reach out to that person who most needed to hear that they are loved by God.
I’m so proud of the way that you, the people of Immanuel, have already said,
“Here I am! I will go!”
I think it’s the reason that this song is the top of our list for our favorite songs to sing together.
But I also want to say… we all have fear and doubt and uncertainty about responding to God’s call. Every single one of us has asked that question,
Is it I, Lord?
Do you really mean me?
Why do you think I am capable of this?
if you are feeling that nudge, that calling to do something, and you don’t know quite what comes next… I have two things I want you to remember:
First: the advice from Eli to Samuel – Take it to the Lord. Pray and tell God that you are listening and you are ready to hear. Ask what God wants you to do.
But second: you aren’t in this alone. And just like Samuel had Eli, I’d love to sit down and chat with you and listen so that maybe I can help get you connect with other people who are already engaged in this work as you learn what it might means to say yes.

Unity, Diversity, and the Body of Christ

Posted on April 2, 2017Leave a comment

Over the past week, I’ve been working to get my garden prepped a bit for spring and to start some of the seeds that will be set out after Mother’s Day. And I was reminded as I dug my fingers into the dirt that soil is so incredibly diverse and complex. That just one handful of the stuff contains more living organisms than there are people on this planet.

And in every part of the soil, every one of those organisms has a part to play, impacting chemical and physical properties. And all of these living organisms live off of and feed off of one another. It is their interaction that makes soil healthy and thriving and good.

In his book, The Third Plate, Dan Barber describes two ways of seeing what is happening in the soil that surrounds us.

One, is a class system… or a battlefield…

We’ve all seen those videos of a tiny fish being eaten by a bigger fish, being eaten by an even bigger fish… that’s some of what happens in the dirt beneath our feet. One way of looking at all of the interaction beneath us is to focus on how microbes are eaten by protozoa, which are eaten by centipedes, ants, and beetles.

But another way of thinking about all of that diversity in the soil is as a system of checks and balances.

Fred Magdoff is a soil scientist and he thinks that “When there is sufficient and varied food for the organisms, they do what comes naturally, ‘making a living’ by feeding on the food sources that evolution provided… What you have is a thriving, complex community of organisms.”

And all of that diversity and interaction in the soil is what makes our food taste good.

Magdoff says, “Taste comes from a more complex molecule that gets eaten, taken apart, and put back together in a different way. The plant takes this, and all the other molecules, and catalyzes them into phytonutrients. Taste doesn’t come from the elemental compounds (like calcium or nitrogen). It comes from the synthesis” [The Third Plate, Dan Barber, page 85]

That’s really why you and I want all of that diversity in the soil after all. Because we want the things we grow to thrive and taste good. We want it to bear tasty fruit!

In musical composition, unless it is a solo piece, it is the interaction of the various instruments each playing their part, yet working together that create harmonization.

And in the church, it is the way that we each utilize our various gifts and we each play our part as hands or tongues or livers that allows the Body of Christ to make a difference in this world.

But sometimes, the church acts more like a battlefield than the Body of Christ.

When Paul wrote his letter to the Corinthians, he was responding to the way factions and power and pride were tearing the community apart.

Corinth was a port city and as such it had incredible diversity. Ideas from across the globe all mingled and freed slaves lived amongst wealthy entrepreneurs. The church reflected this diversity… but that created a power contest between the believers who argued with one another about which ideology or status was better than another.

At every turn, Paul reminds the people that their diversity should be seen not as a source of division, but as a blessing. Because of their varied gifts and perspectives, they could do far more together than any of them could do on their own.

We’ve experienced this as a church, haven’t we? We have incredible diversity as far as our age and our political and theological perspectives and yet look at the amazing things that we have done together.

We raised over $5000 for Joppa in a weekend with a garage sale last year that brought so many different people together.

We built on Faith Hall and paid it off in record time because every person did their part.

We successfully launched Children’s Church because of the incredible work of so many different volunteers and people who were willing to try something new.

Today is the last day of Third Grade Bible, which is an amazing way our more experienced folks help our young people learn about this amazing book that guides our faith journey.

None of that could happen unless the various parts of THIS Body of Christ were willing to step up and play a part.

You might be a foot or an eye or a spleen, but you play a part in this church. We all play a part. You might think that you are too young or too old or too busy to make a difference, but Paul says you are wrong. You are an essential part of making the church work!

Or you might think that church would be a whole lot simpler if everyone was just like me, but again, Paul says we are wrong. It takes all of our different perspectives and experiences… even when they make things more complex… to be the Body of Christ God has intended for this community.

In the United Methodist Church right now, we are divided. We are different. And we feel differently about human sexuality. We can’t always agree about how we should be in ministry with those folks on the margins, whether they are refugees or poor or elderly or tattooed or whatever else marks them as different from the majority. And underneath all that disagreement is that we don’t all read the scripture in the same way.

And sometimes, that diversity feels like a war. It feels like the battle described the soil beneath us or in that clip from Minions. We are chewing each other up and spitting each other out. And I hate the way my brothers and sisters are hurt and damaged by actions and words that cut to the core of their very being. And I’ve watched as some people have walked away from the Body of Christ because of it.

When you focus on the conflict that diversity creates, you want to strip out everything that is different to protect yourself and others. We want simple things. We want unity, which means, we want to all be the same.

But I believe, and Paul believes, that to be healthy, we need diversity. We need difference. We need checks and balances. We need reminders of the importance of the scripture and justice and mercy and love from people who don’t see it the same way we do.

We need to listen.

We need to hold one another accountable.

We also need to challenge one another.

We need to be willing to speak the truth in love.

And together, the interaction of all of our different parts creates something beautiful and mysterious and powerful.

John Wesley claimed the Moravian Motto: “In essentials, unity; in nonessentials, liberty; in all things, love.”

There are key things that are pretty essential to who we are as not only United Methodists, but as Christians: ideas like believing in the Triune God, and understanding that grace plays a role in our lives. Core things, without which we simply could not be the Body of Christ.

But there are other things that are non-essential. What style of music or which translation or scripture or if we prefer percolator coffee or ground coffee or whole bean pour over. In those things, we are called to allow the freedom of diversity and expression and to give room and space for our siblings in Christ to be different and to share their varying gifts.

But no matter what… in all things, we are called to love. To respect each other. To listen. To disagree without being disagreeable. To be open to the moving of the Holy Spirit.

In all things, Love.

It is not a coincidence that this chapter on what it means to be the Body of Christ comes right before the chapter on love. Because the only way we make this kind of community work is through love. We’ll talk more about that next week.

In the same way the soil beneath our feet thrives on diversity and competition and interaction and synergy – this church thrives because we are different AND because we love one another. And through God’s grace, that means we can do more than any one of us could accomplish on our own for the Kingdom of God.

Amen.

Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve

Posted on December 4, 2016Leave a comment

In the beginning…

Most years when we get to the season of Advent, we dive deep into the gospel texts. We want to hear about the shepherds and angels, about Mary and Joseph, Elizabeth and Zechariah, the magi and the star.

Yet, as Heidi Haverkamp will share with us in this week’s reflections in her book “Advent in Narnia”, the medieval church also focused on Adam and Eve.

They went all the way back to the beginning to remember who we are and why God needed to come to redeem us. December 24^th was the feast day of Adam and Eve… a time to rehearse once again the story of the creation and the fall.

And that tradition continued in the seasonal Lessons and Carols of Kings College… which will be presented next Sunday at Simpson College. There, too, the story of love and light begins where it should… in the beginning.

In the first chapters of the book of Genesis, we find out who we are. We were created by God. We were created for relationship and to care for this world. And having been given the world, we want more, we desire more, we test our boundaries and more often than not… we cross them.

This is the human condition. It is our story.

And so maybe it is not so surprising that when the Pevensie children stumble into Narnia and the magical creatures of the land discover these humans, they are called the “Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve”.

They, and we, are full of goodness and knowledge and love.

Last week, we met Lucy, the youngest child whose heart is full of longing and hope. Her love was so strong that it cut through the fear of Mr. Tumnus and helped to transform his life.

The prophecies of Narnia talk about how these four children will bring hope to the land and break the power of the White Witch…

But they, and we, are also full of temptation, mistakes, and sin.

The next child who makes his way into the wardrobe has a much different experience.

Edmund is the next youngest and he often feels left out and unappreciated. He is jealous and hurt and when he finds himself in Narnia the first to cross his path is the White Witch.

We find in their encounter a parallel to our story in Genesis chapter 3 this morning.

First, there is this figure that is on the edges of our main characters story… a figure that at first seems completely neutral.

On the one hand, we have the serpent, the craftiest and most intelligent of all the creatures who strikes up a conversation with Eve. The serpent asks questions, raises intrigue, and starts Eve wandering about that tree in the middle of the garden.

The White Witch is beautiful, arrives on a sleigh and plies Edmund with warm beverages and questions. She invites him up onto her sleigh and tempts him with his favorite treat: Turkish Delight.

Both are lured in by what is pleasing to the eye and good to eat…

But even more than that, they are both lured by the possibility of what might away it they say yes.

Eve is told by the serpent that she will not die as she supposes, but she will become like God – knowing good and evil. All of creation is at her fingertips, and yet she longs for the one thing that has not been given to her. She is not satisfied with the blessings that surround her.

Edmund is likewise tempted by power… and a life apart from his siblings. “It is a lovely place, my house,” said the Queen. “I’m sure you would like it. There are whole rooms of Turkish Delight…. I want a nice boy whom I could bring up as a Prince and who would be King of Narnia when I’m gone.” As the youngest son, he glimpses in this offer approval and power, love and prestige… to finally have the chance to lord it over his brothers and sisters.

Overcome by the temptation, he agrees to lure his siblings to the palace.

And like Adam and Eve, as soon as Edmund is away from the witch and realizes what he has done, he begins to be filled with shame.

He encounters Lucy in the woods, who tells him the truth about the White Witch and he begins to feel sick to his stomach… That, and he ate too much Turkish Delight.

As we continue our story over the coming weeks, we will experience Edmund’s journey. He will make more mistakes.

Like any good Christmas movie, there has to be a bad guy… a Scrooge, a spinster, a grouch…

But eventually Edmund will experience mercy and forgiveness, life and love. The delight of a Hallmark Christmas move is to watch that characters life turn around. Scrooge finds his generosity. The Grinch’s heart grows. A prodigal son returns home.

We are the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. We have an infinite capacity for good and for evil residing in our souls.

Maybe that is why some of our most popular Christmas songs ask us to reflect upon the state of our souls.

“He’s making a list and checking it twice, Gonna find out whose naughty and nice….

He sees you when you’re sleepin’ He knows when you’re awake.

He knows if you’ve been bad or good… so be good for goodness sake.”

The truth is, we are both.

We are simultaneously sinners and saints.

Our lives are full of mistakes and missteps, but also acts of kindness and generosity.

We are tempted by the glitz and glam and our comfort zones, but occasionally find our way out to be in real relationship with people who are struggling.

The reality of our souls is not as simple as making a list of who is good and who is bad.

And the good news is that while we were yet sinners… while we were still weak… while we are this complicated jumble of goodness and evil… God entered our lives to redeem all of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve

As we sing in “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” we yearn for the Christ Child to be born in our midst to cast out the sin of our lives. We yearn for new life, for joy, for an end to the tears and the loneliness and the pain.

This season is about transformation and embracing what is good and holy and pure… letting go of the past that has haunted us.

God has come to offer us mercy and forgiveness and life abundant.

Thanks be to God.

Tears, Comfort, and Old Hymns

Posted on May 1, 2016Leave a comment

This morning, our church choir shared some of the great hymns of the faith with our church in a cantata style celebration of music.

Instead of our traditional Easter cantata, we picked some of our favorite hymns, our fearless leader researched their stories, and we presented a morning of lessons, messages and songs.

And tears were abundant.

There was a moment at some point in the process where I had noticed that we hadn’t picked a lot of “cheery” songs. Typically, our Easter Cantata is full of life and energy and joy and pep. But this wasn’t, after all, an Easter cantata. So I let it go. God knew what was in the works.

Each hymn, each song we shared, celebrated the promises of life after death in their own way. Each was filled with hope, even if they were born out of tragedy. Each was a reminder of the power of music to sustain our faith and keep us going even in the hardest moments along the way.

We didn’t need trumpets and fanfares and complicated melodies or driving beats. We simply sang the faith that has formed us and it filled our souls.

Thanks be to God.

Posted on December 22, 2014Leave a comment

Everyone is gone for the day.

The church is quiet and still.

And here I sit, pouring over the words in the hymnal and songbooks.

Looking for just the right combination of joy and reflection. Of longing and praise. Of reality and possibility. Of the familiar and the uncomfortable.

Sometimes I forget we also have to sing the tunes.