peace – Salvaged Faith

Under the Date Palm

Posted on August 21, 2022Leave a comment

Text: Judges 4-5

One of the things that we discover in many of our Hebrew Scripture readings is a land filled with chaos.

The boundaries and borders are constantly changing.

City-states and nations were constantly battling one another for land, power, and dominance.

Just two weeks ago, we followed the story of the Daughters of Zelophehad as they crossed the Jordan River with other second generation survivors of the great exodus from Egypt.

The land was being divided up according to the tribes… and yet, this was not undiscovered, uninhabited land.

It was filled with thriving cultures and peoples who all worshipped their own gods and had their own rules for living.

Much of the Book of Joshua tells the story of how the people of Israel tried to take that land… often describing slaughter and warfare along the way.

And yet, by the time we get to Joshua’s death with the Book of Judges, we hear about how all the people of the land… the Jubusites, the Canaanites, the Amorites, and more… they were all still present.

And for generations, these cultures, these peoples, continued to struggle for power and land and dominance.

City-states would rise and grow in power and overtake their neighbors and then fail… and the cycle would repeat.

Chaos.

The Book of Judges reminds us that while human warriors can’t defeat the forces that would destroy peace and create turmoil… God can.

The Israelites don’t need a professional army or a king… God reigns over them.

And God will fight for them.

They don’t need to be afraid of those things that might destroy them.

They just need to trust and obey.

And at times, they do.

But that trust in God doesn’t ever last for long.

They are constantly turning to the other gods they discover in the land, adopting other customs, following their own path, forgetting about the laws that formed them into a people focused on abundant life for all.

It was into this context of chaos that God called the judges.

Israel at this time, you might remember, is not formally organized as a political power.

There is no king that holds all twelve tribes together.

And the Book of Judges records how God lifted these unlikely leaders to help the people find stability and security during this ebb and flow of turmoil and chaos.

As Wilda Gafney notes in her commentary, “judges were military leaders and civil administrators: they governed, settled disputes, interpreted and applied the Law, and when necessary, took up arms in defense of the nation.” (The CEB Women’s Bible, p. 285)

In most cases, one of these judges would rise up as Israel fought back against one of their neighbors.

They would often bring about victory in a way that was surprising… reminding the people that it was God who fought for them, rather than the success of any one person or army.

And then this judge would help the people to focus on God, trust in God, and there would be a season of stability.

What is interesting in the case of our Face of Faith for today, Deborah, is that she finds herself in this role… but she has not yet experienced any kind of battle that we know of.

We don’t know how or why she was called or appointed for this task, but as the story opens in Judges 4, she is sitting under the “palm of Deborah” settling disputes among the people.

The Canaanites are in control of the land under the rule of their king, Jabin, and his general, Sisera.

And just like the people of Israel cried out in Egypt under the oppression of Pharoah, the people cry out once again in the time of Deborah, and God hears their cries.

We don’t know a lot of details about her, but there are some titles that give us a picture of what her ministry was about.

Tikva Frymer-Kensky notes that she is identified as ’êšeṯ lappîḏōṯ (Judges 4:4) which could mean a number of things.

A woman of the town of Lappidoth
The wife of someone named Lappidoth
Or, a woman of torches – which is a direct translation of the word… in other words, a fiery woman (ArtScroll’s The Prophets, Rubin Edition)

She is also identified not simply as someone who judges, but also as a prophetess. Her role would have been to make known God’s will and call people to obedience. But she also would have encouraged the people through song… something that Miriam did before her.

In the next chapter of Judges, we find a song that summarizes her ministry and story and there she is also identified as a mother in Israel (5:7)… an actual mother? Perhaps… a spiritual mother of the people… for sure.

When I put all of those pieces together, what I find is a portrait of a woman who maybe is actually not all that different from the women that you know in this world.

She’s got a spark in her, a fierceness and a passion for her work.

She cares about the well-being of her people.

She exists in the middle of a world filled with chaos and upheaval.

A world that is not in her control. A world that she very much would love to change.

Today, we are blessing our students and teachers and school workers as they prepare to head back to school.

Deborah makes me think of all of the parents and teachers who are dedicated and committed to their work, who give their all, and who also have to do their work in the midst of so much tension and division.

Everything is politicized.

We are still recovering from and discovering how we’ve changed from Covid-19.

There are issues of hunger and racism and violence that we still haven’t resolved.

We exist in a world that is not under our control and a world that we very much would like to change.

So, what can we learn from a woman like Deborah?

I think one of the first things I notice is that even in the midst of the turmoil all around her and the oppression of the Canaanites, she carves out both time and a place to be in the presence of God and to seek God’s will.

Those who sought her wisdom and a word from the Lord would find her under the “Palm of Deborah” (4:5).

One of the things we learned in our “Taste and See” study earlier this summer is that whenever we find a palm tree in the Bible, we should remember that it is referring to a date palm tree.

And as Margaret Feinberg taught us, “the fruit of these trees symbolizes victory over death.” (Taste and See, p. 55)

She intentionally went to a place that symbolized victory over death in a season of chaos and oppression.

You see, she chose to start from a place of trusting and believing that God could bring hope and life out of the situation they found themselves in.

Lauren Wright Pittman, “In Tune” , @Sanctified Art

Lauren Wright Pittman, the artist of this piece titled, In Tune, “In the chaos of war she finds stillness under a palm tree and tunes herself to God’s voice… [she] shows us that, in stillness, practicing attending to God with fierce trust, we can sift through the chaos of this world and align ourselves with the movement of God… The chariots of war loom in the distance, but the chariots are empty because… this prophetess can see God’s victory before it even takes place.” (Faces of Our Faith Study Journal, p. 16)

Pittman notes that we all face times of uncertainty and chaos in our lives.

And often, we struggle to start from a place of trust in God’s ability to bring peace.

Instead, we worry.

We stress out.

We plan for worst case scenarios.

We get overwhelmed and give up.

We try to carry it all on our own shoulders.

What would it look like instead if we intentionally created spaces to get in tune with God?

Where is the Palm of Deborah in your life?

Maybe it is time with a cup of coffee on your back porch.

Or right here in this sanctuary.

Or a path that you walk in the evening.

A pause in the car with your family before you leave the driveway for school drop off.

Or a bench that you can sit on for five minutes in the middle of your work day.

Where is a place that you can clear the chaos and the clutter from your life to listen for what God is doing?

First, we create space.

Then we need to learn how to listen.

We need to practice “attending to God with fierce trust.”

And that means paying attention to the nudges and tugs that God makes on your heart.

It means lifting up and letting go of the worries that fill our minds and looking for what God is already doing out there in the world.

And it can often mean leaving our comfort zones and sharing what we are hearing and experiencing with others.

Deborah knew that God had heard the cries of the people and that it was time for God to bring them victory.

She called upon a man named Barak to lead to people into battle against Sisera and his army of chariots.

When he hesitated, she agreed to go with him… to place herself in harm’s way and to provide encouragement for the people… because she knew ultimately this wasn’t about Barak’s victory, or her victory, but God’s victory.

As her song recounts in chapter 5, God was with them.

Ten thousand soldiers went into battle, vastly outnumbered and outarmed, but we hear no tales of their fights.

Instead, we hear about how:

“the stars fought from the sky;

From their orbits they fought against Sisera.

The Kishon River swept them away;

The advancing river, the Kishon River.” (Judges 5:20-21)

We get echoes of how God fought the Egyptian army, by allowing the safe passage of the Israelites and then releasing the waters to overtake Pharoah and his chariots.

Sisera’s army panics, is overwhelmed, defeated, and washed away.

Only Sisera escapes and when he believes he has found refuge in the tent of an ally, he instead discovers that he has been led to his death.

He is greeted by a woman, Jael, who offers him a place of rest and warm milk and tucks him in to sleep… and then executes him with a tent peg.

Deborah could see God’s victory and a future of peace, even though she was swimming in chaos and oppression.

And she knew that the victory was not about her… and not about Barak… and not even about Jael… but about whether each of them would be willing to let go of their own comfort and control in order for God to work through them.

Scripture tells us that with Sisera gone, the Canaanite King lost his grip of power and the years of oppression ended.

For forty years, peace prevailed upon the land.

You know, we often talk about the opposite of peace being war, but maybe it is better understood as chaos.

The question for us is… can we let go of our comfort and control?

Can we find the space to listen for where God is moving in our lives?

Are we willing to our hearts get “in tune” with God?

If we do, I think that we, too, will find peace.

The peace that comes from relationships restored.

The peace that comes from learning to trust in God more than our pocketbooks.

The peace that comes when our priorities are realigned and our family comes before our work.

The peace that comes when we remember that this moment of struggle might be difficult, but in the end, God is in control and these forces of chaos will not have the final say.

May it be so.

Amen.

The Lord’s Prayer: Thy Kingdom Come

Posted on March 13, 2022Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 2:2-5

“Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

This short phrase is one of the most subversive and radical things that we can say as Christian people.

And we say it every week.

Too often, we rush over the words, practically tripping over them to get to the end, because they are so familiar and bring such comfort.

But are we prepared to accept the consequences of WHAT we are praying?

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done.

On earth as it is in heaven.

If we are going to be daring enough to pray for God’s kingdom to come on earth – maybe we should better understand what we are praying for.

Let’s start by going farther back than our own Christian tradition.

Jesus himself is speaking out of a reality and understanding of God’s intentions for this earth.

From the perfection and goodness of the garden…

To the commandments that were to define the people of Israel…

And the glimpses of God’s promised future in the prophets…

The scriptures speak consistently of a reality in which all of creation thrives.

Isaiah holds before us a vision of what this might entail: all people will gather at God’s Holy Mountain.

“God will show us the way he works so we can live the way we’re made.” (MSG)

God’s word will bring about fairness and righteousness and peace for all.

We are invited to live the way God intends for us to live.

But there are two important realities that come into play with this.

First, this is not my kingdom, or your kingdom… my family or yours…

This is God’s household and it supersedes all other ways that we might separate and divide our lives apart from one another.

Every nation is under God’s rule.

All powers and agendas and borders are nullified.

Last summer, this congregation read together through the book of Acts and those early Christians were accused of terrible things by those who didn’t understand their worshipping practices – but something they were correctly accused of was sedition and treason.

They openly confessed in the face of the Roman Empire that they belonged to the Kingdom of God, that their citizenship was in heaven.

And some were willing to die rather than to worship or honor an earthly king.

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

“The birth of Jesus signaled that God would “bring down rulers from their thrones” (Luke 1:52).

In Mark’s gospel the very first words that Jesus spoke announced that “the kingdom of God is at hand” (1:15).

John’s gospel takes us to the death of Jesus, and the political theme is the same.

Jesus was dragged to the Roman governor’s palace for three reasons, all political: “We found this fellow subverting the nation, opposing payment of taxes to Caesar, and saying that He Himself is Christ, a King” (Luke 23:1–2).””

I am reminded of the moment when Jesus stands in Pilate’s headquarters and is asked a simple question: “Are you the King of the Jews?”

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

The Kingdom of God is not something that can be mapped out on a piece of paper.

Or that fits in a box of race or ethnicity or belief.

And contrary to much of our contemporary sentiment, it is not simply a place that we go to after we die.

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

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

It is God’s intentions, God’s will, for how we are to live in this life.

So, the second reality we must face is that life in God’s household will turn our own expectations about what is good and fair and right upside down and inside out.

Too often, we focus on our own needs and desires and will, but in this prayer we lay aside our pursuit of “me and mine” for “thee and thine.”

We are called to see with the eyes of Jesus the needs and cares and concerns of others – especially those without power or agency.

As we continue to follow the thread of scripture through to the New Testament we are reminded that:

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

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

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

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

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

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

This vision is not all that different from the one in Isaiah.

Not so different from the Garden of Eden.

Entirely the same as the promises we read about in the book of Revelation – where hunger and crying and pain will be no more.

God’s will and intention for creation is that all would thrive and find a home.

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

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

For the last two thousand years, Christians have tried to bring the Kingdom of God to bear in their lives.

There are times when we have been wildly successful – and there are times when we have failed miserably.

There are times when in the name of Christ our King we have brought hope and joy and peace to the lives of our brothers and sisters.

And there have been times when we have subverted Christ as King for our own purposes to seek power and money and land at the cost of our brothers and sisters.

In our lives, we are saturated with information and news about what is happening in the world.

Think about the places of pain, tragedy, or injustice we have seen just this month come across our newsfeeds and headlines:

Trans girls no longer being allowed to play sports.

Tornados that have caused incredible destruction and loss of life.

A deadly shooting outside of one of our area schools.

An indiscriminate war being waged by Putin in Ukraine.

The continued loss of life and strain upon health care systems due to Covid.

When we pray, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” we are being asked to hold these realities up to God’s light.

Not to declare that it is God’s will – but to ask the question… what IS God’s will in the midst of all that we see and hear?

How is God calling us to respond in a way that will bring about God’s intention for all of creation to thrive?

Where do we need to upend our agendas and expectations to care for the vulnerable and to cross boundaries and borders for the children of God?

How do we allow love and grace and mercy to rule?

What would it look like for us to start turning swords into shovels and guns into garden decorations and to stop planning for the destruction of our fellow human beings?

In the book of Revelation, God’s will and intention for all of creation is fulfilled as heaven comes down and God dwells among us.

“I saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God… I heard a loud voice from the throne say, “Look! God’s dwelling is here with humankind. He will dwell with them and they will be his people.”

When we pray Jesus’ Prayer, we are yearning for the home of God to be made among us.

For God’s will to take root in our hearts.

For our lives to be stretched beyond the borders we have artificially made.

For our actions to be rooted in the care of creation.

For the love and compassion we offer to be greater weapons than any tank or bomb or handgun.

For us to find the boldness to feed and clothe and heal our brothers and sisters without waiting for the government to help.

We are praying to be made uncomfortable.

For us to not be content with peace in our hearts until your peace truly reigns over the nations.

For our allegiances to shift from brand names and politicians and parties to the one who is and who was and who is to come.

The Kingdom that Christ is ushering in is not one of military victory and political power, but of human relationships, redemption, restoration and wholeness. And that is the kingdom that we pray will reign over the entire earth.

If we pray this prayer like we mean it… it might just change everything about our lives…

As Daniel Clendenin describes:

peace-making instead of war mongering,

liberation not exploitation,

sacrifice rather than subjugation,

mercy not vengeance,

care for the vulnerable instead of privileges for the powerful,

generosity instead of greed,

humility rather than hubris,

embrace rather than exclusion.

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

The Fragility of our Connection

Posted on June 7, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Philippians 2:1-8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind Closed Doors

Posted on April 12, 2020Leave a comment

Text: John 20:18-20

Almost every Easter, we focus on the tomb.

We focus on the women.

We spend all of our time and attention on that glorious moment when they discover the tomb is empty and Jesus is alive and they have a story to tell.

But this morning, I want to focus on the rest of the disciples.

As my friend, Rev. Allison Lanza, reminded me a few weeks ago, the rest of the disciples were not at the tomb.

They were not in the garden.

They were not taking risks and bringing oils to honor the body of their Lord.

As Rev. Lanza wrote,

“On the very first Easter the disciples were locked in their house. It was dangerous for them to come out… They were living in a time of such despair and such fear. If they left their homes their lives and the lives of their loved ones might be at risk.”

Only a few of us are able to gather here at this empty church to lead worship for this morning… just like only a few ever gathered to witness the empty tomb.

The rest of the disciples… the rest of the church… the rest of the faithful…

Well, you are home.

You are home where you are safe.

You are home where you are doing everything you can to protect your loved ones.

You are home because it is dangerous not just for ourselves, but for our vulnerable neighbors as well, to go out.

It is not irrational fear keeping you home… but very real concerns and worries and sensible measures that we need to take to care for one another.

This year, we may not be dressed up in fancy clothes and crowding into the pews.

One of our biggest disappointments might be missing out on that beautiful and delicious Easter Breakfast put on by VIM.

We aren’t watching the kiddos squeal and run past each other finding eggs and crashing after eating all the candy.

But maybe what we are experiencing this year is a glimpse into what that very first Easter was like for those who followed Jesus.

It wasn’t about candy or food or clothes.

It was a group of people who were grieving and lonely and scared.

They were heartbroken and frustrated.

Everything they had planned and all of the possibility vanished on the cross.

They were desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.

We don’t have to imagine what that was like.

We are living it.

We have loved ones who have tested positive for Covid-19 and you are worried about them and unable to go visit.

We are longing for connection and know you shouldn’t risk it.

We are grieving people in our lives that we have lost but have been unable to go and properly mourn.

All of the plans that we had for this spring… concerts, games, graduation, weddings… heck, even simply barbeques or camping trips or playdates…

In the blink of an eye it was gone.

Postponed indefinitely.

We are desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.

I have to be honest… somewhere early in the midst of this crisis, I suggested that we postpone Easter.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around Easter with the church filled up with people.

I couldn’t imagine laughing and singing and praising God and shouting CHRIST IS RISEN… without having all of you shouting it back to me.

And Easter is technically a moving holiday… we celebrate it on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox… which is another way of saying, it doesn’t matter what day it is.

So I got this idea that we should just wait and sit in Lent for a little while longer and postpone Easter until that Sunday when all of us could gather and hug and sing and shout and stuff our faces with food.

But then I realized… this was not going to be a delay of a week or two.

And maybe more than ever we need a glimmer of hope.

We need a hint of good news.

We need to see that ray of possibility.

Easter wasn’t cancelled or postponed or forgotten because the disciples were huddled together, shut behind locked doors, closed off to the world.

Easter wasn’t limited to the few people who were able to gather at the empty church… I mean tomb… on that morning.

Easter wasn’t simply a rumor or a story told by others.

And you know what, that first Easter wasn’t even something the disciples had to risk their own lives to go out and experience.

No, John tells us in his gospel account that even there amid the apprehension and uncertainty and fear, the miracle of Easter showed up.

The resurrected Jesus somehow slipped passed those dead bolts and latches and stood among them.

Right where they were.

In the safety of their homes.

God-with-us… Immanuel.

On Easter Sunday, there were a few who were called to go out and proclaim the story.

In some ways, I resonate with Mary, tasked with bringing the news from the empty tomb to share it with all of you.

But not everyone could.

Not everyone was safe.

Easter was for them, too.

I don’t know what your Easter will be like this year, but here is one thing for which I am certain.

God is with you.

The Lord of Life is with you.

The Hope of the World is in your midst.

And when he showed up with those first disciples in their homes, the first words he uttered acknowledge their… our… difficult reality.

“Peace be with you.”

He didn’t scold them.

He didn’t open the doors and push them out into the world.

Jesus offers a word of reassurance.

He simply offers peace.

Peace unlike any else that the world gives.

A breath of the spirit that reminded them of the words spoken just days earlier as they gathered around the table in the upper room.

“do not Let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27 NRSV)

“In the world you have distress. But be encouraged! I have conquered the world.” (John 16:33 CEB)

We sometimes think about peace as a calm.

Or as the absence of war.

But the Hebrew use of peace was an all-encompassing word of complete and total well-being.

It meant salvation.

It meant being “uninjured and safe, whole and sound.” [1]

Jesus stands in their midst, wounds still visible, and yet he reassures them that all is whole and well and that his earthly work among them is complete.

Jesus is our peace.

He is our shalom.

Through him, we are restored to God…

We are restored to one another…

And we are sent forth to restore the world…

My prayer for you, today, is that that same peace would show up in your homes.

That the Easter blessing of peace might find you wherever you are.

I pray that in spite of everything, you might be able to breathe in that gift of peace.

The apostle Paul knew a little something about being under house arrest, imprisoned, unable to go out and visit and care for those whom he had grown to love.

But even in a prison cell, the peace of Christ was with him.

And so his words to the people of Philippi, I share now with you.

⁴Rejoice^[^c^] in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.^[^d^] ⁵Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. ⁶Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Wherever you are this morning, friends, let that Easter gift of blessed peace fill your lives. Amen.

[1] https://www.efca.org/blog/sunday-resurrection

An Altogether Peace

Posted on December 8, 2019Leave a comment

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.

The Redemption of Scrooge: Keeping Christmas Well

Posted on December 24, 2018Leave a comment

Text: Luke 2: 8-20

Over the four weeks of Advent, we have been exploring together in worship the story of Ebenezer Scrooge captured in A Christmas Carol.
Scrooge is a bitter, lonely man whose “soul is as frigid as the bleak midwinter air.” The only friend he had was dead, and Scrooge might as well be dead for all of the living he is doing.
But on Christmas Eve, the ghost of his friend and business partner, Marley, shows up with a dire warning – change your life or you will end up like me.
Over the night, three spirits visit Scrooge. The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Yet to Come.
Ebenezer Scrooge is transported to his past and reminded of the loneliness of his childhood, but also those moments of joy that he has forgotten.
He is invited to look around him at the present lives of people like his nephew, Fred, and his employee Bob Cratchit and family. He sees the bleakness of their lives, but also the immense joy they find in the simple things.
And finally, he is taken to the future by a silent Spirit and given a glimpse of his own demise. More than that, he sees the possible outcomes of lives that had only just captured his attention – the loss of Tiny Tim Cratchit.
The visits over the night shake him to his core and Scrooge is transformed. He vows that he will live with the Spirit of Christmas in his heart.

Like Scrooge, we, too, have come to Christmas.
If you are anything like me, these past few weeks have been a blur of preparation, purchasing gifts, wrapping presents, baking treats, and traveling to be with friends and family.
The build up to this special time of year is chaos and when we finally get here, we collapse in a heap.
By the time the tree is out on the curb and the nativity is packed away, we start to wonder what it all was for. The kids head home, or we go back to work and school, and we might not even know Christmas arrived, aside from the new gadgets and the extra pounds.

Perhaps, we, like Scrooge, need to learn how to keep Christmas well.

After a night of ghostly visits, Scrooge vows to live his life differently.
He is changed and he wants to make changes in the world.
He wakes up on Christmas morning filled with the Christmas Spirit and he runs from the house, intent on sharing it with every person he meets.
He goes out and buys the biggest turkey he can find for the Cratchit family.
He shouts words of joy to strangers on the street.
He even, finally, accepts the invitation to come and dine at his nephew Fred’s house.

But the amazing thing about the Christmas spirit that fills his heart is that it doesn’t fade when the decorations come down.
No, he allows it to seep into his pores.
As Matt Rawle, author of The Redemption of Scrooge, writes: “Scrooge makes good on his promise, becoming like a second father to Tiny Tim, and a good friend, master, and man to the city he once scorned. It was said thereafter that he ‘knew how to keep Christmas well.’”

Scrooge’s story actually reminds me of the shepherds in the field to whom the angels appeared on that night so long ago.
They, too, were visited by beings that forever changed their lives.
They were invited to discover new truths about themselves and the world around them.
And Luke tells us that this one special night forever changed their lives.
Everywhere they went, and to every person they met, they spread the good news about what the angels had told them about this special child.
They were transformed from simple shepherds, lowly in status, to bearers of good news to the world.
Luke tells us that the shepherds let loose – glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen.
They learned to keep Christmas and keep it well.

What does it mean to keep Christmas well today?
Maybe our clues lie right here in the Advent wreath.
As we lead up to this night each one of these candles reminds us of the Spirit of Christmas that we are to carry with us all year long.

We keep Peace, by forgiving those who have wronged us and sharing comfort with those who are struggling.
We keep Hope, by trusting that God has our future in his hands and offering encouragement to those who are unsure.
We keep Love by sharing God’s presence with strangers and friends, showing up in their lives in real relationships.
And we keep Joy by letting go of our fears and shifting our attitudes towards one of gratitude and simple expectation.
It means that we embrace the awe of the shepherds who kept proclaiming the story, long after the star and the angels left the sky.
It means we keep accepting the invitation to be in relationship with God… not just on this evening, but every day of our lives.

The Peaceable Kingdom

Posted on December 17, 2017Leave a comment

Since the end of September, we have had a guest at the Dawson house… a young female cat named Twiggy.
Twiggy belongs to my brother and sister-in-law who are just finishing up ten weeks in Germany getting to know the new company they work for. They also have a black lab, Rachel, but she was staying with a family that better understands how to take care of dogs.
Now, Twiggy is adorable and playful… but she is also ferocious and territorial and quickly became the alpha in our house. My husband has nick names for both of our kitties… Black Cat and Fat Cat… he affectionately refers to her as Satan cat. This is an evidence-based conclusion… She is known to hiss and growl, strike and chase the other cats, block their way to the food, and overall, causes a lot of racket.
The other day, though, I walked into the bedroom. All three kitties were curled up sleeping on the bed together.
For that moment, there was peace again in the Dawson house.

In our candle-lighting text for this morning, we hold before us a vision of that kind of peace for all creatures. The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard with the young goat, the calf and the lion will feed together, and a little child shall lead them. (Isaiah 11)
When we look around us today, this is not the reality we experience.
We read about violence in Jerusalem, we lament the five-year anniversary of Sandy Hook, and just this morning, there are reports of a suicide bomb and gun attack on a Methodist church in Pakistan…

Our relationships with one another and with the animal life of this world was intended to be very different. As the days of creation unfold in Genesis, God commands the waters and sky and land to be filled with a diversity of creatures. And unlike the plants, each of these new creations require relationship in order to reproduce. God then shifts attention towards humanity, creating us “in God’s own image,” so that we might care for and have dominion over all the living things that breathe.
And then verse 30 tells us – God gives to all creatures all the green grasses for food. What is laid out in this chapter is not a science-based description of the violent food chain we experience… but of peace and sustenance.
The vision of the peaceable kingdom we long for in the new creation is simply a restoration of how God created us to live.
But as the next chapters of Genesis tell us, and as we explored in the first week of this series, humanity quickly rebels against God’s plan.
We were cut off from the abundant life of the garden. All of creation was impacted – from the soil to the air to the creatures that were to be our companions and helpers.
John Wesley, on of the founders of our United Methodist tradition wrote about how our sin shook the foundations of creation and changed our relationship with what he calls the “brute creatures” of this world. Although they were formed to be our helpers, no longer do the creatures love and obey humanity – they flee from us or would seek to destroy us. Just as our hearts are caught up in violence and destruction, so too, do they turn and destroy one another. Nearly every creature on earth “can no otherwise preserve their own lives,” Wesley writes, “than by destroying their fellow creatures!” (“The General Deliverance”)

As John Wesley notes, it isn’t just the large creatures of prey that are violent; even the “innocent songsters of the grove” eat forms of life that are lower on the food chain than themselves.
In 2015, when I took the Organic Ministry class, I spent an entire day each month on my friend Tim Diebel’s farm, Taproot Garden. One of my favorite things to do during our afternoon sabbath was to sit by the chickens and watch them interact and strut around the yard. They appear so gentle and beautiful, but they are part of the violent circle of life. When you watch them there in the yard, they peck and scratch and will rip apart any worm or bug that crosses their path.
“The girls,” as Tim calls them, are well cared for. He lets them out of the coop every morning, pampers them with choice feed and treats from the garden, gathers their eggs, and safely tucks them in every night. Occasionally the chickens get territorial, and sometimes bigger ones would pick on the smaller ones, so multiple coops and a process for integrating new birds into the flock helped to manage that process. But you can’t guard against every danger and you can’t change the fact that chickens are also prey.
My heart broke one afternoon as I saw a post from Tim on his blog about “nature’s harder edge.”
Just as he was heading out to put the girls to bed for the night there was a commotion in the yard. The chickens were in chaos and making a ruckus and Tim caught out of the corner of his eye something larger that had been scared away by his presence. When he finally had a chance to take in the scene, three dead hens were found. It had been foxes, who had watching for just the right moment to grab dinner.
In the midst of his grief, Tim’s words capture the tension of what it means to live in this time of longing for the new creation:
“Here in the rawness of God’s order are pests and diseases in the garden and thieving birds and squirrels in the orchard. There are moles tunneling through the yard, and there are predators above and around the chicken yard attentively watching for and eventually seizing their hungry opportunity. It’s beautiful out here, and serene, but it’s also torn feathers and blood, rot and thorn.”
The reality of torn feathers and blood, and the pain and the violence, death and destruction, amplify the longing of all living beings for the peaceable kingdom.

Wesley reflected upon the violence of creation, but also had harsh words for how the brute creation is treated with cruelty by “their common enemy, man…” and… listen to these words, to what Wesley calls us, “the human shark, [who] without any such necessity, torments them of his free choice.”
From inhumane confinement operations, to dog or cock fighting rings… from the neglect experienced by so many pets to the ways some beasts of burden are abused. Not only did Wesley believe that in the new creation these creatures would be restored to full and abundant life… that all dogs and cats and lions and bears WOULD go to heaven… but that God’s creatures would “receive an ample amends for all their present sufferings.”
He encouraged people to reject our sense of entitlement and to remember God’s care for every inferior creature… in the hope it would soften our hearts towards them here and now. And he was not alone.
Charles Spurgeon wrote, “cruelty hardens the heart, deadens the conscience, and destroys the finer sensibilities of the soul … For the man who truly loves his Maker becomes tender towards all the creatures his Lord has made.”
And so we cannot divorce Isaiah’s vision of the peaceable kingdom in our focus text for this week from the verses that precede it.
In verses 1-5, we hear good news of hope for all who are needy and oppressed. The promised one will come to transform all relationships, human or otherwise.
And as Gene Tucker notes, “the rule of justice in human society is followed or paralleled by a transformation in the relationship among animals and between animals and human beings.” When our hearts are right, peace will prevail for all creatures.
And God calls us to account.
In these days of Advent, we are comforted by the image of peaceful animals around the manger and we hear the good news shared with the shepherds and sheep in the fields of Bethlehem.
But the expectation of Advent is not only about preparing our hearts for the birth of Jesus, but for Christ to come once again.
We are waiting for God’s kingdom to burst forth and set us free from the endless cycle of violence and death, revenge and pain.
We are waiting for that day of endless peace, justice and righteousness.

How shall we wait?
Well, first, we need to remember that when the Prince of Peace comes, there will be a great reckoning… Our Great Shepherd will gather the flock together and as much as we want to identify with the sheep and not the goats, we have to remember our obedience to God is shown in how we care for the most vulnerable of this world – the least and the last and the lost.
So, this season of Advent is a great time to remember the creatures around us…
You could donate items to local animal shelters and veterinary offices like old towels, pet food, and cleaning supplies. We also collect pet food and take it out with Joppa when we visit the homeless in our community.
Or you could give the gift of animals through Heifer International and help empower small-scale farmers across the world…
or maybe, you could foster or rescue an animal yourself.
God has never stopped calling us to practice care and dominion for the creatures of this world.
And when we do so, when we take up our responsibility, we are ushering in the peaceable kingdom in our little corner of the world and stewarding it until that day comes the little child shall lead us into the promises of the new creation.

In the Desert

Posted on November 12, 2017Leave a comment

In these weeks before our season of Advent starts, we’ve been exploring the Psalms of our scriptures.
Rev. Andrea Severson joined us at the end of October to talk a bit about times of transition and journeying and the songs the Israelites wrote to accompany them on the way.
Last week, as we remembered our saints, Pastor Todd reminded us of how God walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death.
Today, we turn our attention to one of the Psalms of Lament. These songs of lament, frustration, and longing make up over half of the psalms within our Bible!
They are the words that we cry out when we are troubled, persecuted, frustrated, and hopeless.
“There’s got to be more than this,” we say. “There’s got to be more than this.”

This particular psalm is one written by David and the note in the scripture itself indicates it was during a time when he had fled to the wilderness. Likely, it was written after he had become the King of Israel. His very own son, Absalom, led an insurrection and David was forced to run for his life.
And there, in the desert, he cries out…
Not just for water…
But for the very presence of God.
Robin Gallaher Branch writes that “although his body wastes from dehydration, his spiritual longing for God takes precedence. Hunted and afraid for his life, the psalmist remembers God’s protection and loving-kindness… his soul longs for God.”

In the midst of our trials and tribulations, in the midst of the pain in this world, do we, too, cry out with the psalmist?
Do we believe “there’s got to be more than this?”
Do our souls hunger and thirst for God?
And can we hang on to the vision of God’s enduring love in the midst of our longing?

Last week, brothers and sisters in Christ gathered in a sanctuary in Sutherland Springs, Texas for worship. They were there to pray and to sing and to worship God… and twenty-six of them lost their lives.
Yet another mass shooting in America.
Yet another tragic loss of life.
And I feel like we are lost, wandering the desert, parched with our longing for the violence to end. Parched with exhaustion from debating types of weapons. Parched with weariness from trying to understand the motivations for such acts.
There has got to be something more than this.

And so, we are gathered here, today, seeking God… thirsting for God… turning our hands and our lips towards the divine…. Clinging to the one who has upheld us before.

What comes next?

Do we turn inward and lock the doors?
Do we get lost in debate about causes and solutions?
Do we stop loving and trusting our fellow human beings?
Or is there something else?

In some ways, I wonder if the lessons of Veteran’s Day are precisely the ones we need in the midst of a desert like this.
After the Treaty of Versailles was signed, the “Great War” finally saw peace on the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month. It was believed to have been “the end of ‘the war to end all wars.’”
The next year, President Wilson proclaimed November 11 as Armistice Day… a day commemorated “by paying tribute to the heroes of that tragic struggle and by rededicating ourselves to the cause of peace.”

You see, in the midst of all of that loss and pain and grief … in the midst of the desert of destructions and sacrifice… as they looked out upon that broken world and believed that there had to be something more than this… they named what they were longing for – peace – and they set it before them as a vision for what they would pursue.

In 1926, Congress officially recognized the date as a legal holiday – a “recurring anniversary of this day, commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations.”

And yet, even with that vision of peace before us, it was not the war to end all wars.
There was a second world war, and then the Korean conflict, and we know that since those days countless of our brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, friends and neighbors have served our country around this world.
In 1954, aware of this reality, President Eisenhower proclaimed that we would expand this day to honor the veterans of all wars and to “reconsecrate ourselves to the task of promoting an enduring peace so that their efforts shall not have been in vain.”

In the midst of our own desert of perpetual war and violence, we believe there has got to be something more than this.
And so we cry out every year, longing and thirsting for God’s peace to prevail across this world.

Maybe the question is… have we truly reconsecrated ourselves to the task of peace?
Simply marking a holiday is not enough…
How are we called to live differently in order to help God’s peace to be known all across this world? How do we lift up our hands and call upon God’s name and allow the divine power and glory to shape our world?

This past week, a colleague wrote a reflection about the kind of preparation she plans to do in the wake of more violence. Instead of preparing her church for someone who might burst in with a weapon, she wants to prepare her church to work against violence in this world.
And friends, there are lots of ways we can do that.

We can mentor students in our schools who are at risk for joining gangs.
We can work to provide better mental health care for our neighbors.
We can respond to domestic violence and take seriously the stories of women who are assaulted and work to not only keep them and their families safe, but provide help for those who are perpetrators.
We can get to know our neighbors and become a part of creating a community where people have one another’s backs and look out for what is happening.
We can talk about the gospel stories that teach us how to respond to oppression and injustice and hatred – often by heaping on extra doses of love and compassion and working for justice.
We can be a church that helps our children, especially our boys, learn healthy ways to express their emotions and to play so that they don’t grow up to believe that anger has to be expressed through violence.

If in the midst of this desert of violence, we turned our eyes to God and allowed that vision of peace to quench our thirst…
if that was the deep well from which we as a church and as a community chose to drink from…
if in the midst of this barren and hopeless struggle we chose to turn our eyes to the Lord and to bless God’s holy name and to cling to the one who has been our help…
then like David, we might find our souls satisfied.

May it be so. Amen.