Posts Tagged with Paul

Who Is At the Table

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Text: Philemon 1:1-17

On Monday night, our Administrative Council gathered to talk about how we are doing as a church and what we wanted to focus on next year.
One of the questions before us was: How has Covid-19 impacted your ministry?
Of course there were the obvious things… we’re worshipping online, we’ve adapted to challenges, we’ve built new caring connections lists to reach out in love.
But one of the things echoed something I’ve heard a lot about our church.
“Immanuel is like a family – and we miss getting together with our family.”

Our church is like a family.
And maybe not “like family” … we ARE a family.
Not only have we adopted one another as surrogate parents and grandchildren and the like… but we are all children of God.
We join together with Jesus and pray to “Our Father…”
We are brothers and sisters, siblings in Christ.
We are equal and beloved and valued within this family.
Doesn’t that language feel so natural to us today?

However, Carol Ferguson reminds us it was not always so.
Biological family was everything in the ancient world—Jewish and Roman alike. Wealth, occupation, legal status, citizenship—all these flowed directly along family lines. In our Hebrew scriptures, family language is almost always used in technical terms—a biological brother, an ancestral father.

What does this mean for our house/churches?
Well, a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that typically an entire household would convert and become Christian together.
In this time in Roman culture, the family, or familia included everyone in the household.
But not everyone in the family was related by blood.
Some were servants or clients.
Some were slaves.
In the household, the familia, not everyone was equal or beloved or valued.

We get a glimpse of what that meant in the letter from Paul to Philemon.
Philemon and Apphia and Archippus hosted a house/church in their community.
Paul pours upon them lavish praise for their love and faithfulness and partnership in the faith.
Like other households of the time, everyone under their roof would likely have converted as they came to the faith.
Including their slave, Onesimus.

Somehow, although it is not explained, Onesimus came to be with Paul.
Maybe Philemon sent him along, handing him off and discarding him like he might a workhorse.
Maybe Onesimus ran away.
Maybe Paul requested his services.
Whatever might have happened, Paul believes it is time for Onesimus to return to the household of Philemon.

The question is… what will his status be in the household, the family, when he arrives?
Will it be as a slave?
Or will it be as a brother?

You see, there is an important shift that happens in the language of Paul that gets embedded in who we have become as the church.
He starts talking about people of faith with biological family terms.
We heard it last week at the end of Romans – three people are referred to as kin: Junia, Andronicus, and Herodion.
And then you have the mother of Rufus… who is like a mother to Paul.

In this letter, he calls Timothy his brother.
Philemon is his dearly beloved.
He refers to Apphia as his sister.
And then he calls Onesimus his child.

As Carol Fergeson writes:
… when the apostle Paul began to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ, he throws around family terms like its going out of style—everyone is his brother and sister, his mother, his children, he is like a father, we are all family in Christ. Across bloodlines, across geographies, across status, across faiths, across conflicts, Paul fashions all who believe in Jesus as the new chosen family of Christ…
None of these people share a bloodline. They do, however, share a Savior.

I’m reminded of those powerful words that Paul writes in his letter to the Galatians:
You are all God’s children through faith in Christ Jesus… There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Gal 3:26, 28)
In Christ, we are all heirs of the promise.
Children of God.
Brothers and Sisters and Siblings one and all.

Today is World Communion Sunday, a day in which we open our hearts and minds and attention beyond just this local church and pay attention to the entire family of Christ.
A family extends beyond political divides…
beyond borders…
beyond economic status…
beyond race…
All are welcome at the table.

I hear a lot of you today asking why can’t we all just be children in Christ?
Why can’t we erase the labels?
Why can’t we gather around the table without these defining characteristics?

I think Paul named them, because the distinctions matter.
Onesimus was a slave. Philemon was a free citizen.
Their lives were different.

These distinctions of our gender identity, our race, our ethnic background, our socio-economic status…
They inform our experiences.
They tell the story of where we have been and what we value.
They paint the beautiful, diverse tapestry of the great multitude from every tribe and language that will stand before the throne of God in Revelation.

The distinctions don’t keep us from that presence of God.
But Paul specifically names them, because they call to mind disparities that exist in the world, and in the body of Christ itself.
As my classmate and pastor Mika Edmondson writes, “…the problem is not our distinctions; it’s our use of those distinctions to establish sinful disparities.” (https://corechristianity.com/resource-library/articles/why-the-bible-doesnt-teach-us-to-be-colorblind/)

Imagine with me, if you will, what it might have meant to be a part of a house/church, a household, that centered their lives on Christ.
Imagine that you were a slave in this context.
Imagine that you didn’t have a choice about converting.
Imagine that you prayed with this community to a crucified Savior while you yourself had the scars of the whip on your back.
Imagine you were forced to dry the floors after the community had poured the grace-filled waters of baptism upon one another.
Imagine that you stood in the distance and served others, while people read Jesus’ words to the poor and the hungry.

Paul sends Onesimus back to his master’s household.
Under one roof, in Christ, the slave and the free would live once again.
And while I wish Paul had commanded Philemon to release the man from slavery, he doesn’t.
I have to be honest, freeing Onesimus would not have changed his status within the culture at large.
He could never be a citizen… he could only ever be a freed slave.
Slavery would always be attached to his identity.
His social and economic status would not change.
But Paul begs Philemon to welcome Onesimus as more than a slave… as a brother.
To accept him into his home as he might accept Paul himself… as a cherished guest and partner in ministry.

What Paul is telling us in both of these places is that while the distinctions may continue to exist, the sinful disparities within the body of Christ, the family of God, are no longer acceptable.
Paul asks Philemon to accept Onesimus as a brother.
He begs him to consider him as a precious family member, a fellow human being.
As equal, and valued, and beloved.
To consider him as someone who truly matters.

We talk a good talk when it comes to World Communion Sunday.
It feels good to lift up and think about how we are all connected and part of the body of Christ.
But like Philemon and Apphia, the challenge before us is to actually live it out.
You see, there are great disparities that exist in this family.
Not everyone is equal or beloved or valued.
Not every life matters.

This week, I learned that our African-American neighbors are twice as likely to die of the coronavirus that our white neighbors.
When you examine the deaths of children from this virus, 78% of the children who have died are children of color.
78%!
And what you see behind those disparities are a whole host other disparities: unequal access to education and medical care, red-lining in housing, lack of generational wealth and representation in decision making.

And I haven’t even covered global disparities related to access to education and health and the climate crisis and economic opportunity.

It is easy to ignore these disparities when they don’t impact us.
But if this was the reality facing your brother…
If this was the disparity that existed for your mother or your child…
What would you do?

I think about the death of George Floyd and how he cried out to his momma… Paul would remind us… we are all his momma.
I think about the children in ICE detention, seeking a better life… Paul would claim them as his children… our children in Christ.
I think about the men who have been put to death this year by our federal government… five executions in two months after a seventeen year moratorium… Paul would beg us to think of these men as more than criminals, but as our brothers.

You know there is this incredible line in Paul’s letter to Philemon.
Paul writes that if Onesimus harmed you in any way or owes you money, charge it to Paul.
If there were any mistakes in the past.
If there were any laws broken.
If there were any faults in their character.
If you are tempted to turn these people away because you are angry with them.
If you want to discount them because of their sin.
If you don’t think they matter because of something they did that was wrong…
Put it all on me.
They matter.
They are important.
See their humanity.
They are your family.
They are part of this body.
Fight for them.
Love them.
Love them as Christ loved them.

Friends, today as we gather to celebrate World Communion Sunday, it feels kind of like we are going through the motions.
Because we are so broken.
We are so divided.
We do not see the humanity in one another.
Republican or Democrat…
Rich or Poor…
… we throw around those labels like insults.
The labels are not the problem.
How we treat one another is.
Where is the love?
Where is the grace?
Where is the mercy?
Where are all of those things that we have learned right here at this communion table?

Today, Paul is writing to us.
In our homes.
In our relationships.
If you really consider me to be your partner in ministry…
If you really follow Christ…
If you really abide in his love…
Then look at those that you would diminish…
Those you might discount…
Those you think are stupid because of something they posted on social media…
Even those who have harmed you…
See them.
Listen to their story.
Hear what they have to offer.
Consider them to be your brother… your sister… your sibling in Christ.
Pull up a chair at your table and let them know that they matter.
That they matter to you.

The Real Housewives

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Text: Romans 16:1-16

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet, Carol Ferguson notes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Nuts and Bolts

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Text: 1 Corinthians 16:15-21

The first thing I want to say is a thank you to Maggie who read our scripture this morning. She had a really boring passage of scripture with a lot of hard names that we almost NEVER read.
And she did an awesome job.

You know, we almost never read the last chapter of 1st Corinthians.
The rest of the letter helps to encourage and teach and equip the community, but this is just like the p.s. at the end.
Paul shares his travel plans and tells them who else is along for the journey and gives greetings from other house church communities.
As my colleague, Carol Ferguson notes, he never explains what a house church is, because he doesn’t need to.
Worshipping together at home like we are now isn’t new… it was exactly how those early communities gathered to worship God and grow and live out their faith.

Last week, we were first introduced to this idea in the book of Acts, chapter two.
Those very first Pentecost Christians were devoted to a day by day faith.
They met in the temple and learned from the apostles.
They shared meals in homes.
They prayed.
And they shared their resources with one another.

As the story of this community continues in Acts, we see that these Jewish followers of Jesus initially saw being in the temple and gathering in homes as equally important.
But before too long, those shared meals where they broke bread in homes began to change them.
As Ferguson writes:

…they developed an identity too distinct from that of their Jewish neighbors. Eventually, worshipping in the temple didn’t make sense anymore – whether they came to that conclusion naturally or gradually, or whether they were forced out for their new ideas.

These house/churches were exemplified by three qualities that allowed them to thrive.

First, they embodied a spirit of hospitality.
You had leaders and teachers like Paul and Timothy and Apollos who were focused on sharing the good news of Jesus with the world.
But they didn’t have the time to build a sanctuary and leadership in every new place. They would have spread themselves far too thin.
Instead, early converts and wealthier Christians found ways to support the movement by providing spaces for these traveling evangelists.
When someone like Timothy would come into town, that house/church would be the home base for the movement. And when the apostles left, the leader of that household would maintain the community and help it to grow.
The devotion and sharing spirit of the house/church made sure that all in the community were cared for and their needs were met and they had a place to gather and break bread.
In some ways, this is kind of how our circuit ministry in the Methodist church of America operated. The traveling preacher went from location to location, but the local community kept the church alive between visits.
Today, I think about how it isn’t physically possible for me to come and be with all of you where you are. There aren’t enough hours in the day.
But because we are able to bring worship to you in your homes, we have created the ability for the good news of God to be shared in far more places than we would have thought possible.
And some of you have shown that hospitality and opened your homes to a friend to come and worship with you.
Or you have shared our service with others, creating space for their needs to be met in the midst of this difficult time.

Second, they were safe places for people to practice their faith.
We read about persecution in many of these communities throughout the book of Acts… including from by would-be apostle, Paul.
While he was still Saul, Acts 8 tells us about how he began to destroy the church, breathing murderous threats and dragging off people to prison.
One of the strategies was to go underground and hide your community. If you were worshipping at home, how can they tell what was a communion table and what was a dining room table?
So house/churches provided a way for the early community to gather in safety with other like-minded people.
Today, our reasons for seeking safety in our homes might be different, but it is still an important quality of our faith life right now.
We stay home so that the most vulnerable among us might be protected.
Our kitchen tables have become our communion tables.
Our couches have become our pews.
And together, we make sure that we can reduce the harm to our neighbors and keep one another safe.

Finally, house/churches allowed people to claim their faith.
As has been true of people of faith from the beginning, we have always been asked to declare our allegiance to God.
I’m reminded of that line from the book of Joshua.
When he was about to lead the people of Israel into the promised land he put before them a choice.
They could hang on to their traditions of the past and the other gods their ancestors worshipped…
Or, they could cling to the God who brought them up out of Egypt… the one who rescued them and protected them.
“Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve…” he tells them. “But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24: 15)
In the same way, these house churches were one way that early Christians declared they were putting their time, their name, and their property in service of the teaching of Christ. And sometimes, even their lives.
That choice is as much before us today as it was in the days of Paul and Joshua.
As my colleague, Rev. Ferguson reminds us:

Being a worshipping Christian in the last four months has required incredible perseverance, innovation, and energy. Our routines and sanctuaries have been stripped from us by COVID-19, and we have had to dedicate ourselves to intentional worship in a way we rarely have had to before. I know it has not been easy. But I am so proud that, standing firm in the tradition of our ancestors in faith, we marked out holy space in our homes and through our technology to say that we are still Christians. Even when it is hard, we follow the teachings of Christ.

So we’ve talked a little bit about why these house/churches were important and how they embodied hospitality, safety, and faith.

But what were they like?
Well, let’s explore the nuts and bolts of how they worked.

The first thing to note is these house/churches were as different as our houses are now.
Whether you were wealthy or poor, the region you lived in and materials available all had an impact. Rural areas might have hand built mud huts, while Rome would have had structures more like apartments. And like today, the wealthy might have had larger, grander buildings.
Most of the house/churches that we have record of were hosted by households with at least modest means and included space for a number of people to gather, share a meal, and worship.
One such house is in Capernaum and is thought to be the household of Peter… you remember, the place where Jesus heals his mother in law?
This particular house had stone walls with a mud and straw roof and had a square room at the center for gathering.
We have a record of this location, because after Christianity was legalized in the fourth century and had power and financial support, this location was converted from a home to a church.
Later expansions eventually covered the original house, and eventually the basilica itself was destroyed.
More recently, the Catholic Church has preserved this site with a glass floor that allows you to see down into the ruins of the house church below.

Another example we have is from a more wealthy home in Dura Europas, or what is modern-day Syria. While in many ways it was a standard home of the time, it also had a large hall where Christians would have gathered to worship and a baptistery.
The walls are covered with frescoes the depict Jesus as the good shepherd, the Woman at the Well, the empty tomb and more.

We also have evidence of a house church started by Romans in southern Britain.
In what is now known as Lullingstone Roman Villa, you can see how owners plastered over a small household shrine to Roman gods with the Chi-Ro symbol.

Who was part of a house/church?
One thing that is very different from today is who was part of a household.
While we typically think about a home with room for a nuclear family, an ancient household was much larger.
Several generations would be included in a household, including married and unmarried children. Also included would have been any servants or slaves of the owner.
And unlike today, where faith is a more individual decision, households would convert all together. If the head of the household came to know and want to follow Jesus… everyone in the household became Christian.
Our scripture this morning tells us about how the household of Stephanas were the first converts in Achaia. Once their house/church was established, Stephanas and others from the household traveled to Corinth to help encourage and strengthen the community there.
But a house/church included more than just one household of faith.
Anyone was welcome as part of a house/church once they were established in a community. Men and women, poor and rich, slaves and masters all gathered together.

What did they do?
Well, we know that communion and baptism were important rituals that were shared within these homes.
In fact, it was one of the markers that began to separate the Jews who followed Jesus from those who did not.
They also gathered to read scripture, both readings from what we now know as the Old Testament, but also letters from the early Christian apostles.
In this day, those letters, like the one we read today from 1 Corinthians would not have been considered scripture, per se, but they did provide instruction to these believers about how to practice their faith.
The letters were incredibly practical and show us some of the concerns that these communities had about what to eat, which Jewish practices to continue following, and who was welcome at their tables.
Sometimes, these house/churches would host visitors like Paul and Apollos.
They prayed.
They sang.
They had a weekly collection that they would take up to support the ministry of the apostles and those in need.
They argued about what they should do.
They were real churches.
They just met in people’s homes.

And today, we are a real church that is meeting in people’s homes.
Carol Ferguson shared with me the story of a pastor who was chatting with a child in her church on Zoom one Sunday.

The pastor noticed her dress, and said “I think I’ve seen you wear that dress to church.” The girl, maybe four years old, looked confused for a minute. Finally she said “I am wearing it to church. But sometimes I wear it to the other church, too. When we go in the car.”
I love that that little girl will grow up knowing that church isn’t just a place you go, but something you experience. That she will never doubt whether or not God is with her as she eats and plays and studies. That she knows worship matters to her family not just as part of a routine, but as something worth pursuing always—even if it means making a church out of her home.

Thanks be to God that we continue to be a real church, embodying hospitality, safety, and faith, whenever and wherever we gather.

Sermon adapted from: https://carolhferguson.com/2020/07/05/house-church/#more-1534

Partially Rendered Heroes

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Text: John 13: 12-17

Today, with the images of four of our nation’s greatest presidents before us, we turn in the gospels to a story of a biblical model of leadership.

Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, gets down on his hands and knees and washes the feet of his disciples.

As the words of Tom Colvin’s hymn, “Jesu, Jesu” remind us:

“Kneels at the feet of his friends, silently washes their feet, Master who acts as a slave to them.”  (UMH #432)

Our Master humbles himself in service to others.

Our Master doesn’t demand praise and monuments and glory… but finds glory in loving and serving those who are lowly. 

And calls us to do the same.

But even more than that… this act of love and hospitality and service was not just meant for those who were righteous and perfect and had it all together.

Simon Peter, who would soon deny Jesus three times was there. 

Judas, who was about to betray Jesus was there.

Jesus knew them fully.  Completely. 

And Jesus loved them and asked them to do the same for the world.  

What does it mean for us to live in this world not seeking our own glory, but seeking to humbly serve others? 

What might it mean for us to know others fully, completely, and love them anyways?

Let’s pray:  Gracious God, may the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts and minds be holy and pleasing to you, O Lord, our Strength and Redeemer.

At the end of this spring when I put Mount Rushmore on the list, the location evoked nothing but nostalgia for me.   Summer, vacations, grand vistas, and playing games in the car. 

Remember that photo from the start of summer where my brother and I were handcuffed together?  

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Well, that same trip also included a stop at Mount Rushmore.

As we arrived, we noticed that my hair was a strange shade of green. Our campground the night before had a pool and my light blonde hair had turned green from the chlorine. 

Then, when we got out of the car at the national monument, we were suddenly surprised to discover just a few cars away my childhood friend, Matt, and his family! 

I was so embarrassed.

But I got over it and we all enjoyed the grand majestic views of these spectacular presidents.

As the summer has gone on, I must admit that those iconic men carved into a mountainside have taken on a different tone in our national discourse. 

Our country is grappling in new ways with the systemic racism that underlies every institution.

We are questioning practices that currently exist and looking at our history with new lenses. 

And that has not only included the monuments of Confederate generals, but also the full legacy of great American heroes like Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, and Roosevelt and the land upon which this monument is built itself. 

I have to admit… when President Trump scheduled a big celebration there for the Fourth of July, I thought nothing of it. 

But all of a sudden there was controversy because someone from the DNC had tweeted that Mount Rushmore was connected with white supremacy.

What?! I thought.

That’s bonkers… it is divisive for the sake of being divisive…

It is a simple patriotic monument.

And then I took a breath.

I’ve made a commitment to myself that when I find myself outraged at something, I try to research instead of react. 

My first impulse is not to repost it, but to google it.

Sometimes, the information is flat out wrong.  Sometimes it is intentionally misleading.

But sometimes, there is truth to be discovered there. 

Sometimes, my anger or outrage is a defense mechanism because the way I had always thought about something is being challenged. 

Do you know what I learned early in July about Mount Rushmore? 

It is a sacred site for our Lakota siblings. 

This mountain is called Six Grandfathers, named for the Earth, Sky, and four directions that had been carved into the granite by the elements.

In 1868 this land was promised in a treaty to the Lakota people. 

Yet the discovery of precious minerals like gold and tin brought miners and prospectors to the area in a breach of that treaty. 

There was conflict and the U.S. sent in more calvary to defeat the Lakota and their allies. The Congressional Act of 1877 forced Native Americans onto reservations and our government took over the Black Hills. 

In July of 1980, nearly 100 years later, the Supreme Court ruled that these lands were illegally taken from the Lakota people, but the land has still not been returned. 

That rush of prospectors brought to the area a New York lawyer named Charles Rushmore.

In his own words, Mr. Rushmore explains how the land came to be named after him:

“I was deeply impressed with the Hills, and particularly with a mountain of granite rock that rose above the neighboring peaks.  On one occasion while looking from near its base, with almost awe, at this majestic pile, I asked of the men who were with me for its name.  They said it had no name, but one of them spoke up and said ‘We will name it now, and name it Rushmore Peak.’ That was the origin of the name it bears…” (https://www.nps.gov/moru/learn/historyculture/charles-e-rushmore.htm)

We ignored our treaties with indigenous people for the sake of our own prosperity.

We erased their legacy and names and stories from the land.

And then we gave this place our name and carved the faces of our leaders upon it.

It is a far cry from the humble service that Jesus calls us to embody with our neighbors.

But in the minds of those at the time, such acts could be justified because native people were seen as savages, less than, unequal to their white counterparts. 

The only way our ancestors could rationalize genocide, enslavement, and colonization wasto believe that there are innate differences between the races and that non-white people were inferior. 

That is white supremacy at its core.

The four men whose faces we now see carved upon this mountain were not perfect. 

They were heroes and champions and they made our country what it is today, but they had faults as well and they lived and breathed and upheld systems that supported a belief that white people were somehow different and more worthy of this land than people of color.

George Washington led us to freedom from Great Britain, but that freedom was not extended to his own slaves.  When his wife’s slave, Ona Judge escaped, Washington went to great effort to recover her, fearing she would inspire their other slaves to seek freedom as well. 

Thomas Jefferson literally wrote our independence into existence and doubled the size of our nation.  But, also, the sexual exploitation of his slaves is so well-known that there is an Ancestry.com spoof about it.

Abraham Lincoln helped to preserve our nation and abolished slavery.  However, that freedom was not extended to Native peoples and during his administration, land was stolen and native people were executed and massacred. 

Theodore Roosevelt was chosen for the monument to represent the growth and development of the United States through incredible social policies.  Yet he also say Native people as an obstacle towards settlement and once said, “the only good Indians are dead Indians.”

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You know, when Borglum began to carve the faces of these men into the face of the cliff, the design included the figures from head to waist. 

He intended for a fuller image of these great American heroes to be portrayed. Not the full story of their legacy, but at least a greater rendering of their persona.

Borglam died, the country was at war, and the project ran out of money so this full realization was never completed. 

Only their faces were ever finished.

I’ve been thinking a lot in the midst of the national debate about whether monuments or statues and the like should stand not about these figures… but about Jesus… kneeling at the feet of the disciples.

He knew them fully.

He knew them completely.

He knew their faults and their triumphs. 

And he loved and had compassion and offered forgiveness to them anyways.

Here is the thing about not only Jesus, but the entire biblical witness.

Our scriptures don’t shy away from telling the full story of our leaders. 

We know that Moses led the people out of Egypt, but we also know that he was a murderer and we know that his own grumbling with God prevented him from seeing the promised land.

We know that David was a man after God’s own heart and his line was chosen for the redemption of all of Israel, but we also know that David was a rapist and murderer and stood idly by while assault and division happened with his own family. 

We know that before he was Paul, Saul persecuted Christians and oversaw their executions and that even later in life in the midst of his ministry, there was a thorn in his side, a temptation that never quite eluded him. 

For so much of our national history, we have focused only on the parts of the story that we like.  The parts that hold us up in a good light. The parts that demonstrate our worth and our glory and invite others to follow in our footsteps. 

Just like Mount Rushmore remains unfinished… a partially completed rendering… the story we tell ourselves about our own history and these figures is incomplete.  It is not the full picture.

And it has ignored and diminished other voices and stories and hurts for too long.

What we are experiencing in our nation right now is a lot of pain, and conflict, and tension… but in the midst of that woundedness, perhaps there is for the first time in a really long time we also have the possibility for healing and new steps forward.

When Jesus knelt at the feet of the disciples, he knew they would harm him and washed their feet anyways.

I think about how a wound often has to be cleaned out and debrided before it can properly heal.

That is what we are experiencing right now.

Systemic racism and white supremacy have wounded our nation and our people and our relationships with one another. 

And there is a lot we have to clean away and bring to the surface, so that the wound can properly heal.

It is painful.

It is ugly.

But it is the only way healing can ever be possible.

Because you see, only when we allow God to see us fully – with all of our faults and all of our sins and all of our mistake and all of our faithful attempts to do the right thing – can we truly accept God’s grace and mercy into our lives and share it with others. 

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In 2004, Gerard Baker became the first Native American superintendent of Mount Rushmore and has worked to establish the Heritage Village there to share the history and customs of the land before Custer and Borglum left a mark on the area.  Baker said:

“it’s not just a teepee here.  We’re promoting all cultures of America.  That’s what this place is.  This is Mount Rushmore! It’s America! Everybody’s something different here; we’re all different.  And just maybe that gets us talking again as human beings, as Americans.” (https://blog.nativehope.org/six-grandfathers-before-it-was-known-as-mount-rushmore)

Mount Rushmore is the story of America. 

With all the things we have done right, and all the ways we have gotten it so wrong. 

As we think back upon our history, our story, if we find a way to tell it in all of its fullness, with all of its diversity and triumph and tribulation, maybe… just maybe we can remember that we are all human beings. 

That none of us are greater than our Master. 

And that God calls us all to another way, a better way, of being in this world. 

As we sang together in our opening hymn:

“Cure thy children’s warring madness, bend our pride to thy control; shame our wanton, selfish gladness, rich in things and poor in soul.  Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, lest we miss thy kingdom’s goal.” (Harry Emerson Fosdick, UMH #577)

As we engage in these tough national conversations, help us to be humble.  Remind us of your call to serve our neighbors rather than promote ourselves.  Give us wisdom and grace to speak the full story.  And bless us with courage to do the right thing.  

The Fragility of our Connection

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Text: Philippians 2:1-8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Altogether Joy

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Text: Psalm 30:2-3, 5; 1 Thessalonians 5:12-24

One of tasks of preaching is to take a part a text, study it, let the Holy Spirit do her work, and then share the good news back with all of you in bite-sized, easy to digest nuggets of helpful information.
So imagine my dismay when I dive into our chapter from Almost Christmas for this week and I read:
“Joy cannot be manufactured, sought, or studied.” (p. 86)

Well, shoot.

I can’t break it down into three simple steps.
There is no top ten list for an Altogether Joy-filled Christmas.
You cannot create it through a project from Pinterest.

Sure… there is plenty of almost joy this time of year that does come from our blood, sweat, and tears.
A few years ago, my niece wanted nothing more than an American Girl doll. A friend of mine had one from childhood that she was now parting with as an adult and so I was able to purchase Samantha with a number of books and outfits for a fantastic price.
When my niece opened that box on Christmas Day – she was so happy that she literally burst into tears. Her squeals of joy and excitement simply could not be contained. It was overwhelming and ridiculous and everything we hoped for.
I would have paid a thousand dollars to create that kind of experience for her or my other nieces and nephews all over again.

But that joy is fleeting.
It is a burst of energy that fizzles out nearly as soon as the wrapping paper is tossed in the trash can.
I think about the feeling I have sitting by my Christmas Tree at home each night, with those gentle lights twinkling.
I feel truly happy to just be in that space.
But in a couple of weeks, we’ll pack it all back up and there will feel like there is something missing where that bright spot of joy used to be.
Maybe that’s because it was only an almost joy… when it fades we feel emptier than we did when we began.

An altogether joy is a joy that lasts… a joy that sustains us even through difficult times.
And that kind of joy cannot be manufactured, sought or studied.
Altogether Joy is a gift.
Joy is a gift of God’s grace.
It is a gift of God’s mercy.
It is the very gift of God’s presence with us.
Immanuel.
Matt Rawle writes in this final chapter of Almost Christmas, that “receiving joy often means we have to get out of the way and allow the Holy Spirit to move.” (p.93)

How do we do that?
How do we create space for God’s grace to move in our lives… even in the tough times?
I think we find guidance in the words of Paul to the Thessalonians.

Acts 17 tells us that Paul and Silas first came to Thessalonica and proclaimed Christ, but not all were open to his message.
Some of the leaders became jealous and stirred up a mob which led to a riot.
Many were arrested and Paul had to flee for his life from the city.

So when he writes back to the Thessalonian believers, he knows that hanging on to their faith in the midst of hostility has not been easy.
He knows that many have suffered because they received the gift of Christ in their lives.
He knows that in the face of such persecution, it would have been easy to abandon the message…
And yet they have continued on!

Perhaps that is because they had received the gift of God’s joy.
They knew God’s mercy.
They knew God’s grace.
They knew God’s presence.
And it sustained them even when they found themselves in the darkest places and in the toughest moments.

Paul’s words at the end of this letter are an encouragement to keep going.
They are a reminder to keep creating space for the gift of God to take root in their lives.
In the midst of such trying times, it would be easy to be on edge, snapping at one another for the slightest thing.
It would be easy to get discouraged by setbacks.
It would be easy to listen to the voices of those who are turning back and turning away.

Instead, Paul asks them to each do their part.
Encourage those who are straggling behind.
Reach out of those who are exhausted by the fight and pull them back on their feet.
Be patient with one another and aware of when you are pushing each other’s buttons.
Look for the best in each other.
Pray.
Pray, pray, pray.
Pray always and everywhere.
Thank God for what is before us… the good and the bad.
Rejoice always.

If joy is a gift… then I think that means that we need to create space to focus on God’s mercy.
We need to focus on God’s grace.
In the best and worst moments we need to focus on God’s presence.
As Matt Rawle reminds us, “For Wesley, salvation and joy go hand in hand. There is no joy for those who feel there is no forgiveness. There is no joy for those who have no assurance of salvation. Without joy there is little for which to give thanks. Joy comes from knowing that God is near and salvation is offered to all.” (p. 90)

God is near and salvation is offered to all.
God’s gift of grace and mercy and love is not just for us.
It is for those who are falling behind.
It is for those who are discouraged.
It is for those we have forgotten.
It is even for those who are persecuting us.
And if we can find room in our heart to remember that, we might just glimpse what an altogether joy looks like.

Our Wesleyan hymn for this morning is one of my favorites… Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.
Charles Wesley’s words remind us that the newborn King has arrived not just for me.
Not just for you.
But with mercy and peace he has come to reconcile God and all sinners.
God has made a home in all places and among all peoples.
The gift of God’s presence is for all.
All nations are filled with joy in light of this gift.
All people, not just the ones who think like us.
Everyone is invited to proclaim the good news of this precious gift.

Maybe that is why, in his sermon, “The Character of a Methodist,” Wesley goes to great lengths to remind us that Methodists are not people of one opinion.
We are not people who discriminate.
We don’t boil our faith down to one issue or cause.
Because if we did, we would soon believe that we have the truth… the answer… the gift… and those who disagreed with us do not.

No, a Methodist is one who has received the love and presence of Christ.
A Methodist is one who extends the same grace to others that we ourselves have received.
A Methodist is one who never speaks evil of a neighbor, but seeks always and everywhere to share the gifts of salvation we have ourselves received.

What does this look like?
I stumbled across the story this week of a guy named Stan. Stan goes to church in Denver and his church was working to support a family who had come on hard times. Medical bills had overwhelmed them and there was nothing left for Christmas. So, among the various things the church was going to do to support them, Stan volunteered to go pick up a Christmas tree.
Stan put his son Jay in the truck and they headed up into the mountains to cut one down. But the truck slid off the icy road and crashed into a boulder. His boy was covered in glass from the windshield and both were shaken by the trauma.
As cars sped by, no one stopped…
In the midst of trying to create joy for others, they found trouble themselves.
But then a car pulled up and a couple got out. The woman began to comfort the boy and put him in their vehicle while the man helped Stan move his truck farther off the road. Then the drove Stan and Jay home. In their shock and dismay, they never got the couple’s names.
Frustrated that he had failed in his task and his truck was wrecked and eager to do something to help out this family, Stan took on the task of delivering the other items to their house. He walked up to the door, rang the bell and waited.
When the door opened, there stood the couple that had helped Stan and Jay in their own moment of need. (Story adapted from one by Steve Goodier – http://stevegoodier.blogspot.com/2008/12/surprised-by-joy.html)

That’s what an altogether joy looks like.
It goes the extra mile to help out a stranger.
It shows up when no one else will.
It is grace and mercy and presence.
It is God with flesh on.
And we discover it when we allow ourselves to accept the gifts of God in our lives.
But we also find it when we turn around and share it with others.

May it be so…

An Altogether Peace

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Text: Ephesians 4: 1-4, 21-32

Often when I’m writing a sermon there is an audience in mind.
I ask God what it is that we, as the people of Immanuel, need to hear.
Sometimes the sermon is only for a portion of our community…
meaning sometimes it’s a teaching sermon meant to challenge those who want to go deeper.
Sometimes it is a creative sermon for those left-brain thinkers.
Sometimes I’m focused on a more basic concept for those who are newer to faith.

Today, I’m going to confess, is a sermon for me.
To be honest, it probably applies to many of you, too.
But it’s the sermon I need to hear.

I was reading through the chapter on “An Altogether Peace” in preparation for this week and felt like it was like an x-ray of my soul.

“Think about the lack of peace within your own heart,” Magrey DeVega writes. “About the unsettledness you feel about your future, the conflict you have against your own inner demons of guilt and shame, and the inability you have to tame the wild horses of anger, fear, and powerlessness… Oh, we do our best to project an ‘almost peace’… We cover up our insecurities, we put on a good face amid the chaos to convince others – and even ourselves – that things are better than they are. But on the inside, deep down inside, we are far from peaceful. We might even be afraid.” (p.15)

There is so much unsettledness in my life right now.
Unsettledness about the United Methodist Church…
Unsettledness in some personal relationships…
Feelings of anger and powerlessness as I try to imagine ways forward…
Guilt and shame for not doing more…
One of you came up to me after the Town Hall gathering last Monday night and mentioned how poised I was answering the questions that were asked… and I realized in the aftermath… I can talk about all of these things that are happening clearly and I can project that “almost” peace… but if I were to really dive into how I’m feeling about it – I would probably just altogether fall apart.

Tomorrow night at our Administrative Council meeting, one of the things we will be voting on is the recommendation already approved by our Staff Parish Relations Committee that I take a renewal leave from mid January through mid February.

According to our Book of Discipline and the strong encouragement of our Bishop, clergy are supposed to take at least four weeks of renewal leave every four years. My last leave was in the summer of 2015, so it is time… maybe past time… for another one of these times of rest and renewal.

On the one hand, I need time to connect once again to that “hidden source of calm repose,” as Charles Wesley so eloquently described God.
Just as we are looking at John Wesley’s sermon, we’ve been exploring some of Charles’ hymns.

As verses three and four of his hymn, we are reminded:
God is our rest in toil, our ease in pain, the healing of our broken hearts….
In war, God is our peace.
In loss, God is our gain.
God is the one who allows us to smile even in the face of the tyrant’s frown.
In God, we find glory and a crown where we had only before been filled with shame.
Plenty in our need, power in our weakness, freedom for our bondage, light in our darkness, joy in our grief…

When everything felt like it might be falling apart for the disciples – Christ gave them his peace.
As DeVega reminds us, It wasn’t like the Roman peace – the pax romana – which came by brute force and conformity and oppression for all who opposed their power.
No, the peace of Christ is different. “[it] would not be sustained by fear or oppression. It would not be born of anger or revenge. This peace would not be through the accumulation of power. It would be born of love.” (p. 24)

So, this Advent, when everything feels like it might be falling apart, my troubled and unsettled heart is waiting…
Waiting for Christ to breathe his spirit of peace upon me like he did those disciples.
Waiting for the altogether peace of Christ to be born once again into my heart.

But the other reason I need that time of renewal is that peace is not only an inward sentiment.
It is also an outward and communal and public demand of our faith.
And I need to connect with that “source of calm repose” if I’m going to help lead our church and our community through the coming year.

You see, just like the first-century Christians Paul was writing to in Ephesians, we find ourselves in a world that is fractured by power and tribalism.
If we were not in the midst of a debate about the inclusion of LGBTQ+ people in our church, something else would be creating turmoil.
We lack peace not only in the church – but also in our families, our state, our nation, because we have stopped seeing one another as people who are worthy of forgiveness, mercy, and justice.

I once believed that the opposite of peace was war.
I believed that we would finally have peace in our lives when we laid down our weapons and stopped fighting.
But I’m not sure that is true anymore.
Even if all the swords and guns in the world were destroyed does not mean that peace will come.
Peace, you see, must be bigger than a lack of conflict.
Peace must encompass more than the fights we find ourselves in.

The peace that we seek is like the peace of Isaiah in chapter 65….

I will rejoice over Jerusalem
and take delight in my people;
the sound of weeping and of crying
will be heard in it no more.
20 “Never again will there be in it
an infant who lives but a few days,
or an old man who does not live out his years;
21 They will build houses and dwell in them;
they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
23 They will not toil in vain
or bear children doomed to misfortune;
25 The wolf and the lamb will feed together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox…

In the Hebrew Scriptures THIS VISION, lifted up by the prophets, is Shalom.
Shalom is a Hebrew word that means peace, not only in terms of fighting and conflict – but it describes the wholeness of life.
This isn’t just a world in which there isn’t conflict, but there is life!
As one commentator put it, “everything fits together, the relationships work like they were designed to, and things just work right.” (http://listeningtoscripture.com/Textual_Studies/Isaiah/12isaiahspeace.html)
Paul Hanson says that shalom is “the realm where chaos is not allowed to enter, and where life can be fostered free from the fear of all which diminishes and destroys.”

Doesn’t that sound amazing?
A life free from the fear of all that could destroy us?
A life of fullness of health and prosperity for not only yourself, but others too?
We keep talking in the church about schism and conflict and fighting…
What would it look like if we let shalom guide the decisions we make in the next year together.
What would it look like if let go of our fears of all that might destroy us and instead focused on creating a church of health and prosperity for all?
What if we sought the unity of the Spirit and remembered we were called together into one body by the one Lord and God and Father of all?
What if that image of peace we shared with the children included progressives and traditionalists, blacks and whites, straight folks and LGBT folks gathered together, breaking bread, sharing ministry?

How do we get there?
Well, in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul has some advice about what it means to allow the breath of God, shalom, peace, to unite us together by the Spirit.
Magrey DeVega summarizes them into seven points in our “Almost Christmas” study, but if I were to whittle them down even farther, I’d put Paul’s lessons this way:
Seeking peace means that we have to be willing to put another person at the same level as ourselves.

We have to hold them in high enough esteem and worth that we are willing to speak the truth to them without manipulating or distorting or demeaning.
And we have to value them enough that we don’t let our anger pour over into diminishing them as a person through our words or actions.
We have to believe that they are worthy of the same love, forgiveness, compassion and respect that we ourselves have received from Christ.

It’s easy to say those things…
It’s far harder to live them.
There is a person in my life that makes my blood boil. When they enter the room, I can feel my heart rate go faster.
Maybe you know someone like this?
Maybe that co-worker who is just incredibly annoying…
Or your inappropriate uncle who you are upset with before they even open their mouth…
That person who just pushes all of your buttons just by existing…
Well, I was in a situation where I was around this particular person recently and I could feel it in my body…
My blood pressure was rising and I was anxious and not at all at peace.
In fact, I wanted to punch them in their face.

But I didn’t.
Seeking peace isn’t punching someone in the face.
It is being willing to see them as myself.
And so I started to pray…
John is a child of God.
John is a child of God.
John is a child of God.
And you know what…
My blood pressure went down.
I could breathe deeper.
I couldn’t do that on my own… but with God’s spirit of peace…

I have to admit, I still have work to do with this person.
I’m not yet at a place where I truly see them with enough value and worth that I can really speak the truth to them in love without letting my anger spill out all over first.
But I’m working on it.
I’m praying about it.
With God’s help…

What if those things applied here at Immanuel… ?
In our families…?
In our politics…?
How might the peace offered to us by Christ transform this world?

Jesus calls us to be peacemakers and to be a shining city on a hill, an example to all.
And Paul tells us the only way to do that is to let the Spirit of God to enter our lives and transform them.

If we were to try to do this all on our own, we’d probably go around punching people in their faces.

But what if we really did let the Spirit of Peace be born once again in our hearts.

What if we let it transform us.
To set us right inside.
To set us right with one another.
To set us right as a people.

Maybe then when the chaos and unsettledness and guilt and shame are able to melt away from our hearts… and then our community… and then our church… maybe then people will look at us with wonder and say – what is it that they have figured out?
And when they do, we can point to the One who brought us an altogether peace.
Amen.

Imagine the Abundance

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Text: Ephesians 3:14-21, Matthew 14:3-21

Friends… do you know how much potential you have?
I’m not talking about the potential for worldly success… although you have that.
I’m not talking about the potential for raising funds as a church… although I know its there.
I’m talking about your potential in Jesus Christ.
I’m talking about the untapped depths and lengths and height and breath of Christ’s love in your life.

Oh friends…
I’m going to take a few minutes to be honest this morning.
Honest about the discouragement and frustration and heartburn that some of us as your leaders here at the church have been feeling.
Our worship attendance has been down, but so has participation on Wednesday nights.
I had one gentleman stop me the other day in the hallway and say, “Pastor, I think you are doing a great job… but where is everyone?”
And it is hard not to take it personally.
And I know that our families and our members are busy.
You are engaged in your community and sports.
You are working more hours than you want.
You are traveling to visit family out of town.
You want a morning to sleep in.
It’s hard to get your tired bones moving as fast you could before.
I get it.
I’m right there with you.

But, if you are anything like me, when you take a moment to catch your breath in the midst of the rushing too and fro, do you ever wonder if there is something else you are missing?
Do you stop and notice that perhaps there is something… some power… some spirit that is lacking in your heart?
Do you ever feel like you are going through the motions instead of tapping into the incredible love and power and promise of Jesus?

For many, and this isn’t only Immanuel… this is the state of the church in the U.S…. church has become just another item on a long list of activities and social commitments. As your schedules ebb and flow, it might be something that falls off the calendar for a season.
And as at least one person recently shared with me, when they stopped coming, nothing much in their life really changed.

In my head, I thought – surely that can’t be the case.
But in my heart, I started to fear that maybe this was true.

Does church actually make a difference in your life?

If it is simply a collection of activities and social commitments – maybe not.
You can join other clubs.
You can busy yourself with other volunteering opportunities.
If you aren’t happy about a decision either locally or in the denomination, you can step away to find a place that is a better fit.

But to be honest, that’s not how most of you describe Immanuel.

At the start of this series on the Feeding of the 5000, I asked what drew you here.
What was it that compelled you to join the crowds of people here on 49th Street?
And you talked about the people.
You talked about the relationships.
You talked about family.
And something we are all learning in the midst of our incredibly busy lives is that you have to make time for family.
You have to guard your time with your family.
You have to set it as a priority, or something else will come in and decide it is more important.

Starting in Lent, eight of us began gathering at 6:30 in the morning at Java Joes for a Covenant Discipleship Group.
It was dark and none of us wanted to be up that early, but we decided to make time and carve out this little window, because it was important.
We were initially only going to meet for eight weeks, but those relationships became so important that we have continued to meet once a month at 6:30 am, just to maintain them.

Our Wednesday Night Ladies give their time every single week to be here and to prepare meals for our Immanuel family.
It is not just a service opportunity, it is a community, a small group. They watch out for one another and check-in when one is struggling.

The same could be said for the Monday night group at Java Joes.
Or Wednesday afternoon Bible study.
Or Re:Ignite.
Or Chancel Choir.
Or the Sunday morning Women’s group.
Or Praise Ringers.
Or the list goes on…

When you set aside time for your family and make it a priority every single week, you solidify relationships that will sustain you for the long haul, through thick and thin, good times and bad.
You learn how to be present in the midst of disagreement and work through it.
You discover what it means to be served, but also to serve.
You get to know someone’s beautiful quirks and annoying habits and what it means to love them anyways.
THAT’s what it means to be family… and it is why so many of you show up here week after week.
And let me tell you… if you haven’t connected with one of these opportunities, you actually are missing something that will change your life and I or any other staff member would love to have a conversation with you about how to get involved.

But I would be lying if I said that after that first Sunday of this series I went home encouraged and energized.
I didn’t.
I actually felt a little bit frustrated.
Because I think that church is about far more than family.
What it means to be church is not just about the relationships that we have with one another – as beautiful and holy as they are.

Being church is about being caretakers of an incredible message that this world is hungry to hear and experience.
That is why thousands of people left their work and picked up their families and traveled to the countryside to catch a glimpse of Jesus.
There was something about his message and his actions that tapped into this yearning in their souls. A hunger to be healed, to be known, to be empowered.

I think about those first disciples.
They were kind of like a small group in the church.
They spent a lot of time together and traveled and ate.
They became like a little family and they cared for one another.
They provided for one another.

But in this miraculous event, Jesus invited them to not just look to their own needs, but to look outward at the crowds all around them.
It was an invitation to not just be a part of Jesus’ church, but to BE the church. To themselves be the hands and feet of God in the world.

And so he took their meager gifts and transformed them and the result was this amazing abundance of food and relationship and ministry.
I’m not just talking about their five loaves and two fish on that day in the countryside.
I’m talking about their very lives.
He transformed them from a faithful little family group into a world-changing movement that has turned everything upside down.
He directed their eyes and their hearts outward.
Jesus put his Spirit within them and strengthened them for the work ahead.
And they traveled the world with this message.
They faced controversy and conflict.
Some were killed for the good news they proclaimed.
But even persecutors like Saul were transformed by the power of Christ and became leaders in sharing the gospel.
It couldn’t be stopped!
It couldn’t be tamed!
Everywhere they went, people were hungry to hear and experience it…
and people were afraid and challenged because they really did challenge the powers of this world that are hellbent on sin and death.

We are here today, this morning, because the power of God poured out upon those disciples and their gifts. It filled them up and it spilled over to everyone they encountered.
We are like those twelve baskets of leftovers gathered on that holy, miraculous, evening… the outpouring of God’s abundant spirit of love that has no end and cannot be stopped.

And thank God for that… because that good news is still desperately needed!
I asked you in worship two weeks ago to lift up what kind of ministry you would do if you had incredible resources at your finger tips.
You lifted up the need for daycare and rent relief, homeless youth and a clothing closet, hungry children and adult language classes for immigrants and refugees.
You named the potential for ministry with troubled teens and mental health needs, for warm coats and temporary housing, scholarships and pay it forward opportunities.
You see the needs of veterans and teachers, families at the Ronald McDonald house, single parents who struggle, and the potential for a garden. You named the opportunity to buy back guns or create a soup kitchen or help the underemployed.

Oh friends… imagine our church doing all of that?
Can you imagine the difference we would make in the lives of our neighbors?
Can you picture how the love of Jesus would become real to so many people?

But also… I imagine just thinking about it you will first become incredibly tired, because we can’t do all of those things – at least not all at once.

But I also think about what might happen if we don’t.
If we didn’t even try.
If we keep thinking of ourselves just as a family… simply as a social club… merely as a place to stop by a few times a month and make ourselves feel better…

Peace Lutheran Church in a suburb of the Twin Cities was about to close.
The congregation experienced conflict. And then greying… which literally means the hair in the congregation was getting whiter. Young people weren’t showing up. The decline of U.S. Christianity was partly to blame, but so was the internal focus of the church members.
They only had twenty folks left in worship and when their new pastor arrived they had 18 months worth of funding before they would be done.
So Pastor Greenlund asked if they wanted to go out with a whimper… or with a bang.
They said if we are going to die, lets die well.
So they sent fliers to their entire neighborhood saying that they would fix anything in homes – free of charge – no expectations or qualifications.
They fixed roofs and furnaces, made kitchens accessible, cleaned homes for shut ins, rewired houses.
And you know what… people noticed.
They thought the church might have died already, but neighbors began to believe and trust that the little church on the corner actually, really cared.

This church was on the verge of giving up… but they tapped into something beyond themselves.
They let go of what they wanted and started to ask what God wanted.
They let themselves and their gifts be transformed.
People from the community are throwing in their own money to keep the amazing work of this little church going.
Their membership has quadrupled.
Abundant miracles are taking place all around them.  (Read more here!)

When I think about you… this congregation… this family… I see incredible potential.
Not because of anything that you already possess, but because I know and trust in the God who has called us together.
Right here in this time and in this place.
God didn’t do that by accident.
And the prayer that Paul got on his knees to pray for the Ephesians, I am praying now… daily… for you:

I ask God to strengthen you by the Spirit.
Not with a brute strength, but a glorious inner strength.
I pray that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in.
And I ask Christ that with both feet firmly planted on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love.
Friends, I pray that you would reach out and experience the breadth!
Test its length!
Plumb the depths!
Rise to the heights!
Live full lives, full in the fullness of God.
God can do anything… far more than we could ever ask or imagine, by working within us… deeply and gently within us.
Glory to God in Christ.
Glory to God in the church.
Amen.

Copyright © 2024 Rev. Katie Z. Dawson. All rights reserved.