water – Salvaged Faith

Renew Our Whereabouts

Posted on January 13, 2020Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, she saw it as stepping in.

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

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

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

But he did.

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

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

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

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

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

As Debie Thomas writes,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To renew our whereabouts… always a starting place.

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

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

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

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

After all, as Debie Thomas reminds us,

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

This is the promise of God… Amen.

A Nap and a Snack

Posted on September 8, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Psalm 42 and 1 Kings 19:1-15a

Blessed are the crazy.
Blessed are those who experience feelings of anxiety and are consumed by worry.
Blessed are those who have suicidal thoughts.
Blessed are those who have survived trauma.
Blessed are those are trapped in cycles of addiction.
Blessed are the crazy.
Blessed.

That isn’t the first word that we often use to talk about mental illness.
In fact, we rarely talk about it in the walls of the church and when we do, it is often sitting around the couches in my office, or whispered to your neighbor at coffee time, rather than out in the open.
And rather than any spirit of blessedness, we share those stories with a sense of shame or confusion or judgement.

The first person I knew with a mental illness was my friend’s mother.
That doesn’t mean there weren’t other people in my life… we just never talked about it.
But there was always this sense of embarrassment from him that she wasn’t like the other moms. And I experienced that myself when we hung out. She would hole up for days at a time and not really talk with anyone. She had no energy to take care of anyone else and so he really learned how to take care of himself.
But she would also get on these kicks and you absolutely had to stay out of her way while she dove into a craft project and took over the house. Everything else got put to the side… including my friend.
Later, we came to understand she was struggling with manic depression and with medication her life has evened out a little bit more.
But at the time, it was hard not to feel resentment for the ways that our lives had to accommodate hers or frustration that she wasn’t “normal.”
We certainly never thought of her as blessed.
And yet, we wouldn’t necessarily call the poor and the hungry, the grieving and the persecuted blessed either.
But Jesus did.
Jesus declares in the Beatitudes of Matthew 5 and Luke 6 an upside-down, counter-intuitive vision of the world.
Sometimes we think of each of those beatitudes as characteristics that we are called to embody: meekness, peacemaking, etc…
But as Alan Brehm notes, that is only a secondary point.
The primary message is that God’s blessing has been poured out on those who expose their vulnerability. They declare that “those whom society has deemed unfortunate are truly blessed in God’s realm. It says that those who have no reason in this world for hope or joy, those who have been deprived of their fair share of goodness and justice – those are the ones for whom God’s kingdom… are incredible gifts.”
So yes, blessed are the crazy… for they shall receive mercy, compassion, and love.

Each week of this series, we are going to dive into scripture and look at how those blessings arrive for people who are struggling with their mental health.

Today’s story focuses on the prophet Elijah.
Depression might not have been a chronic struggle for him, but it was certainly situational.
A new king had arisen in the land, Ahab and his wife Jezebel, and they were no friends of God.
Elijah and other prophets were called to speak God’s word of judgment upon their reign and were persecuted as a result. About a hundred of them went into hiding, but the rest were executed.
Remaining faithful to his calling, Elijah publicly challenged the prophets of Baal and Asherah to a contest, which is described in the chapter just before our reading this morning. God’s power shows up, and Ahab and Jezebel’s prophets are put to shame and killed.

Now, Elijah’s life is really in danger. Furious with her defeat, Jezebel vows to hunt down and kill him.
He is terrified and alone and sinks into a state of severe depression.
Sitting under a bush in the middle of the desert, he wants nothing more than death.
I find his story echoed in the words of Psalm 42 and I invite you to hear selected verses again from the Message translation:

I’m on a diet of tears—
tears for breakfast, tears for supper.
All day long
people knock at my door,
Pestering,
“Where is this God of yours?”
These are the things I go over and over,
emptying out the pockets of my life.
I was always at the head of the worshiping crowd,
right out in front,
Leading them all,
eager to arrive and worship,
Shouting praises, singing thanksgiving—
celebrating, all of us, God’s feast!…
Sometimes I ask God, my rock-solid God,
“Why did you let me down?
Why am I walking around in tears,
harassed by enemies?”
They’re out for the kill, these
tormentors with their obscenities,
Taunting day after day,
“Where is this God of yours?”
Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
soon I’ll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
He’s my God.

Here is a faithful servant of God, who intimately knows God’s power and yet he cannot find the strength to keep going.
In her book, Blessed are the Crazy, Sarah Griffith Lund reminds us,

“Faith is not an anti-depressant. It cannot be swallowed in order to rewire our brains for happiness. Rather, faith allows us to accept the coexistence of God and suffering. We do not have to choose between two realities, because, if we did, God would have to go. There is no way we could deny the existence of suffering. I believe God exists in this messed up world, and, in the moments of greatest pain, God is there to wipe away our tears. After all, we aren’t the only ones crying. God is crying too.”

Wallowing in grief, exhaustion, and depression, Elijah has faith and still can’t take another step.
“It’s more than enough, Lord!” he cries out.

Does God tell him to suck it up?
Does God push him to get over it?
Does God get embarrassed by the weary state of his servant?
Does God resent that this so-called prophet just can’t do it right now?
No.
Blessed are the crazy.
Blessed are the depressed and anxious.
Blessed are those at the end of their rope.

God accepts Elijah right where he is and accompanies him through this time in the wilderness.
God gives him the space he needs to take care of himself and his needs.
And you know what Elijah desperately needs?
He needs a nap.
And so he lies down under that bush and God lets him sleep.
And then God sends a messenger, because sleep is not the only thing we need to take care of our body, mind, and spirit…
A messenger that sends food.
Bread, baking on a stone.
A jar of cool water.
Elijah eats and then sleeps again.
And God is there, watching over him. Caring for him. Accompanying him through this dark night of the soul, this wilderness journey.
And God sends a messenger to nudge him again, encouraging him to eat once again.

God shows up in the midst of Elijah’s depression. God speaks to him… not through earthquake and wind and fire – not through judgment or anger or force… but through the silence.
In the thin and quiet moment God speaks.
God is present.

How then should we show up for one another?
Do we avoid our friends or loved ones who are depressed?
Are we embarrassed by them or urge them to just get over it?
Or do we accompany them?
Do we make sure their needs are cared for?
Do we show up and simply be present with them?

As I have spent time with people who suffer from chronic diseases, including depression, one of the tools that can be really helpful was introduced by Christine Miserandino. It is called Spoon Theory, and it describes the amount of energy certain tasks that we undertake in a day might require for someone who is struggling with their mental or physical health.
If on any given day, we only have 12 spoons worth of energy to spend, we have to make choices about what those things are.
Simply getting out of bed in the morning takes energy. (one spoon)
Getting dressed and taking my medicine takes another spoon each (two spoons).
If it is a work day, I need to shower and eat (four more spoons)
And then work itself, which takes a lot of energy (four spoons).
That right there has spent eleven of the twelve spoons I might have in a day.
Any energy to clean or care for others or exercise is already spent.

The other key component of spoon theory is that sometimes, in order to do something you need to do, you have to borrow spoons from another day. If you have to give extra… it means that the next day you can’t start with twelve new spoons… you start with a deficit.
When I think about the intense experience that Elijah underwent, challenging those prophets of Baal and Asherah and then fleeing for his life, it is no wonder that all he could do the next day was sleep and eat and sleep some more.

And so when we find ourselves in these seasons, we have to learn how to be gentle with ourselves, be wise with our decisions, ask for help when needed.
And we need to have a spirit of compassion and kindness towards those among us who are literally giving all the energy they can muster just to show up or get out of bed in the morning. We can practice the patience of God and we can show up to accompany our loved ones through their wilderness.

There are, of course, other ways that we can build resiliency and strengthen our mental health so that we might come out of that wilderness season.
Just like we can improve our physical health by eating right and exercising, our mental health takes a little bit of work.
At the bottom of your insert you will see a few tools that are really common sense things that it is helpful to be reminded really work.
We can connect…. Stay positive… create joy… care for our spirits… and all of these things will help increase our capacity for mental health.
In fact, something as simple as a smile can make a difference, and so that is why with our pancake breakfast this morning we are encouraging you to dress up your pancake with a smile and to share your face for mental health awareness.

Mental health isn’t a solitary journey. So let us walk it together and let us surround one another in prayer, love and compassion.
For blessed are the crazy.

Bible 101: Pulling Meat Out of a Text

Posted on February 3, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Hebrews 5:11-6:3, Revelation 3:15-16

The author of Hebrews doesn’t seem very nice.
The people they are writing to are called lazy.
They are compared with babies, needing milk instead of solid food.
And… the author is impatient because they aren’t sure the people have been listening at all.

Well, maybe I might snap just a little bit too if I have been trying to teach a community about the importance of faith and I realize I had to start all the way back at the beginning all over again.

In contrast, I have actually been really excited to get back to some of the basics about the bible with all of you. And I think that is because we never really do this kind of work together.
In fact, I was talking with some colleagues and aside from the small groups of people who attend actual bible studies, most of their congregations, like ours, have not really been taught biblical literacy.
We simply don’t challenge each other to read scripture in depth.
We haven’t wrestled with the contradictions in texts and what they mean.
And as pastors, we have not equipped you with the tools that you need to dive into the text.
That is our fault.
Not yours.
And over this last month, I have seen just how hungry you are to know more, to read more, and to understand more. So… I’m excited you are on this journey with me and I can’t wait to see where it continues to take us.

In these last few weeks, we have already covered a few things.
First, we acknowledged that the Bible is a complicated text, full of mystery. In its 66 books, we find history, testimony, letters, poetry, prophecy, law… and we should approach each part of the text recognizing that it is trying to do something different.
Then, we heard from one of our lay folks here at Immanuel, about the overarching message of the scriptures: to love God and to love our neighbor… and how that helps us when we encounter people with whom we disagree or on our own journey of faith.
In the past two weeks, I’ve shared with you about how the people who compiled and formed our canon of scripture intentionally left us a diversity of perspectives within the text. Four gospels all tell about Jesus, but emphasizing different things, in a different order. In this past week, we’ve read passages from 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles in our daily challenge and find the exact same story – but with different outcomes! The scriptures are not concerned with one right answer, but capturing a multitude of voices that all point to the bigger truths about God.
And last week, we talked a bit about translations – how the Bibles we read today might be different, but that inspiration of God has been carried through as each author was attempting to bring the message of God to a new people in a new place.

Today, we are going to dive a bit deeper into the meat of bible study. We’ve gone over some of the basics and so I want to give you some tools today to help you “press on towards maturity” as the author of Hebrews puts it. It’s time for some solid food!

First, I want to introduce you to the idea of exegesis.
The prefix (exe) relates to our English word exit… which we know as the way out. So when we use exegesis, we are working to pull meaning OUT of a text.
This is one of the basic building blocks of biblical interpretation. We want to figure out what the passage meant when it was written. It’s not always possible… but the more we research and learn, the more we discover.

Contrasting this is eisegesis.
Now, this is when you take meaning INTO a text. You don’t start from the text itself, but you start from what you know today and make assumptions based on modern understandings about what the text means.

Let’s dive into an example to show the difference.

These two verses are from a set of letters to seven different churches as a pat of the Revelation to John. These verses come from the letter to Laodicea:

“I know your works. You are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I’m about to spit you out of my mouth.” (3:15-16)

So first… and I’m going to need your help with this… what do we know about what it means to be hot in the context of our faith… in modern religious understandings?
(on fire for God, zealous, 100% committed, loving, justice filled)

What do you think it means to be cold spiritually?
(apathetic, dead, unloving, meh, no life)

And we understand lukewarm to be somewhere in the middle, right? So we might read into this text that the church is only partly committed to God… or who might go to church, but not be “on fire”. Right?

All of this makes sense in modern English. But what we are doing is bringing OUR understanding of the words into the text. It is eisegesis. And… we are left with the question… why would God prefer that we were either hot or cold? What would ever be good about cold? Wouldn’t lukewarm be better, or at least closer on the path to God than being cold?

If we use exegesis, if we go back to the text, back to the context, back to the location, we might learn something different.

Laodicea seems to be compared with hot and cold churches in this letter… so who might those churches be that they are unlike? If we turn to a map of the area and think about where and who the Laodiceans were, we might get some clues.

This city was actually part of a triad with Hierapolis and Colossae, in what is now modern day Turkey. In fact, when Paul writes to the Colossians, he specifically mentions these other two cities as a part of a little circuit that Tychicus, Epaphras, and others travel, supporting the people in all of those locations. The people know each other and they support and encourage one another.
But they were each unique places as well. The Colossians were supposed to pass their letter on the Laodiceans… AND they were supposed to pick up a letter Paul had written to that church and bring it back. Unfortunately, we don’t have a copy of that letter today.

Hieropolis was known for its hot springs and mineral baths. In fact, ancient Romans would travel to the city for health and healing.

Colossae on the other hand was located right on the river and it was known for its cool and refreshing water. There were also cold, freshwater springs in the city. It was a place where people escaped in warm days in order to find relief and refreshment.

But Laodicea had no natural source of water. All of the water for the city was piped in via an aqueduct and when it finally arrived, it wasn’t hot or cold, but lukewarm.

People traveled to Hieropolis for hot healing waters. They traveleld to Colossae for cold and refreshing relief.

But no one came to Laodicea for the water.
As Terance Espinoza writes, “Jesus wishes that they were useful, that they were either healing or refreshing to people.” (https://www.sagu.edu/thoughthub/exegesis-versus-eisegesis)

No one noticed them or would miss them if they were gone. They had figured out how to take care of themselves… but they weren’t in turn taking care of anyone else.

Now that is a church I recognize. Closed in. Focused on itself. If it disappeared from the face of the earth tomorrow, no one would know any different.

In this passage… being either hot or cold… healing or refreshing… being useful and making a difference is the goal.

And the Laodiceans were neither.
That is the difference when you work to pull meaning OUT of the text, instead of starting from where we are and looking backwards.
And friends, it isn’t easy work.
When you begin to chew on the meat of a text, here are some helpful questions to carry with you as you work to pull meaning out of it:
1) Who is the author?
2) When did they write the text?
3) What was life like at the time?
4) Who was their audience?
5) Why did they write to them?
6) What questions do you have?

And that might seem like a lot of questions and a lot of work, but also remember that we have at our fingertips today more resources and tools to do this kind of study than ever before.
Study bibles and commentaries can help by providing us with current scholarship and notes on the text. Our own church is full of these kind of study resources and you are always welcome to stop by and use them.
There are also million online resources with everything from Wikipedia to The Bible Project. I use BibleGateway.com to compare translations.

One source that I turn to almost every single week is called The Text This Week, or textweek.com. This particular resource is geared towards churches that use the lectionary, or the three year cycle of texts, but what I appreciate is that you can search by scripture and find a compilation of history, commentaries, and exegesis all in one place.

Above all, you don’t have to do this work alone! Those who are interested in studying scripture together will find that each can take a piece of the work. Or… you can utilize a resource together to dive deeply into a particular book of scripture or a topic.

Our goal, friends, is to not just be content to be spoon fed information… we each have the responsibility to engage with scripture ourselves.
We are called to press on to maturity.
We are called to take the foundation of knowledge we have been given and to move beyond just the basics.
I don’t promise easy answers.
But I do promise that you will be fed and nourished when you dive into the text and chew on it yourself. And I know that our faith is so much richer and more meaningful when we can pull out truth from the meat of our Bible and carry it with us into our daily lives.

Listen!

Posted on January 14, 20181 Comment

About nine years ago, we were in the midst of one of those bitterly cold Januarys… not unlike the one we have experienced here!
The snow was falling and the temperature was below zero, but I bundled up that afternoon and went to the local nursing home where I held a monthly worship service.
I really enjoyed this time of worship there. While I rotated with other community pastors for this afternoon time of singing and preaching, I was one of the only pastors who also celebrated communion with these folks. Other denominations were more exclusive about who is welcome at the table. So it was always a joy to walk around the room and share the bread of life and cup of salvation with those dear folk.
On this particular cold day, we shared the same text that we are focusing on this morning. As we heard about how Jesus entered those waters of the Jordan, we remembered our own baptisms.
I carried around the circle a basin of water and invited each one to dip their fingers in and remember that God has loved them and called them each by name.
As I came to one woman, she had fallen asleep, as often happens with that group, and she was gently nudged awake by her neighbor.
Hopefully, you won’t have to nudge your neighbor awake this morning!
I kept working my way around the room and came to another woman who proclaimed with joy, “I was baptized in the Iowa River!”

There was another woman whose name was Grace and all throughout the service, she would interrupt to ask who was going to take her home.
At the end of worship, I had the chance to sit with her and chat and with the bitter cold outside, she kept asking who was going to come and get her and take her home.
She openly began to weep because she had been forgotten and no one was coming to take her home.
I reminded her gently that this was her home now…
this was where she belonged…
But more importantly… I reminded her that she was not alone.
In fact, she was loved.
She was a child of God, blessed by the Lord, and touching those waters a voice from heaven was pouring out upon her, reminding her that she was beloved.

As I listened to Grace’s insistence that she go home, I knew that dementia was speaking loud and clear… but there was something of all of us in her words, too.
Don’t we all want to go home?
Don’t we all want to experience the kind of belonging where we are called beloved?

I said earlier that I really enjoyed worshipping there at Rose Haven in Marengo… but there is another part of me that found those times and moments extraordinarily sad.
Some of the residents were vibrant and full of life, but others were barely functional in mind, body or spirit.
Many had been forgotten by their families.
This was not the highest quality facility in the county… and there were many things that made me pause when I thought about the care that I would desire for my own loved ones.

In that moment of worship, I had a chance to name each and every single one of those residents as beloved…
but I also found wondering how my own community of faith was living out our baptisms…
How did the call of God that poured out in our baptisms invite us to be present in the lives of these people in a different way?

You see, on the one hand, our baptism is an echo of the one Jesus experienced… so we proclaim that each and every single one of us is also called beloved by our God.
You are beloved.
You are beloved.
You are beloved.

But so often, we hear those words falling upon our own heads in our baptism and then we stop listening.
I am a beloved child of God, we hear in our hearts. Period. End of story.

But that is not how Mark tells this story.
No, his version of this tale is urgent and messy.
He starts with John the Baptist at the Jordan River, inviting people to come and be baptized as a sign that they were changing their lives.
Rev. Mindi Welton-Mitchell reminds us that, “the Jordan river was where people went to wash their dishes and their laundry. It’s where they went to bathe. In other words, the river flowed with [the] filth and muck of human life… this wasn’t water that washed clean, but rather water that acknowledges the muckiness of our communal lives.”
John knew that his baptisms were not the end of the story, but that someone was coming to baptize with the Holy Spirit.
And then Jesus shows up.
This guy from the dump of a town, Nazareth…
A nobody from nowhere…
And yet, the very presence of God in the world.
And as God-with-us, Immanuel, Jesus Christ, waded into those filthy waters of the Jordan River, the very heavens split open.
And in that moment, the ministry of Jesus begins.
The Spirit flows upon him like a dove, names him beloved, and then forces him into the wilderness.

“What are our baptisms for?” Ted Smith asks in his lectionary reflection (Feasting on the Word).
Baptism is not simply something that makes us feel warm and fuzzy inside.
It is also the reminder that God’s power, God’s spirit, God’s life has poured out upon us… the very heavens were torn open and now YOU are sent out, like Jesus, into the wilderness of this life.
Because not only are you beloved… but so is every other child of creation.
No matter where they have come from or what their life has been, they, too, are beloved by God.
Whether they are from a place that is beloved or a place that has been condemned by others, they, too, are beloved by God.
Whether they are surrounded by love or whether they are forgotten and alone, they, too, are beloved by God.
And in our baptisms, the power of heaven itself pours out on us and calls us into the world to act on the behalf of our brothers and sisters.
To create opportunities.
To open doors.
To work for justice.
To call one another to reconciliation and repentance.
To make God’s love real in this world through our worship, through our work, through our play.
It is the call that drove Martin Luther King, Jr. to proclaim the dream that one day the children of slaves and slave holders would be able to sit down and share a meal together.
The dream that children would not be judged by color of their skin or where they were born, but by the content of their character.
That little children of different races and abilities and backgrounds would be able to join hands with one another.
That we can work together, pray together, struggle together, stand up for freedom together.

Our baptism is the foundation of every single thing we do as a church. Because this is not my place of ministry, but ours.
You are a beloved child of God.
The heavens were tore open as you were baptized and the Holy Spirit sends you out into the world to share the life you have found here with others.
On this day, let us shout with joy for the presence of God is in this place, leading us, calling us, shoving us out into world and reminding us with gentle words that every person we meet is a beloved child of God.
Amen.

Rising Strong: Failing and Falling

Posted on May 21, 2017Leave a comment

In this “Rising Strong” series, we have remembered a few things so far about what it means to live as children of the resurrection.

First – we have to be ourselves. God has uniquely created us with gifts and skills and has put us in this place for this time. We shouldn’t spend our days trying to be someone we are not. We need to learn to love and embrace who God has made us to be.

Second – we should wholeheartedly put ourselves to work for the Kingdom of God. If you are a fisherman – go out there and fish for people. If you are an accountant, go out and count people for Christ. If you are a mom or a dad or a grandparent, love every person you meet as a child of God. Take the life God has given you and use every minute of it to serve the Lord.

We are called to take both of those things and put them into practice. So, if you haven’t already filled out or turned in the “Gifts and Talents” booklet that we handed out last week – this is your opportunity. It is one way you can let us know here at the church what are some of the ways you are willing to be yourself and go all in for God. There is a box at the back of the sanctuary to turn them in, or you can drop them off in the office. There are also some blanks there, as well.

Today, we are going to ask what happens next…

What happens when you figure out who you are and you give it all to God?

Let’s pray:

In the past six weeks, I joined a gym… a “transformation center”… and spent some intentional time focusing on my own health and well-being. I’m now twenty pounds lighter and trying to figure out how to keep up the effort without the strict diet and accountability of the group I worked out with.

One of the things that we talked a lot about during those six weeks was failure.

Every week, there would be at least one exercise where our goal was to do as many as possible. Whether it was sit ups or planks, a dead lift or overhead press, the goal was to increase either the weight or the duration of the exercise so that you physically could not do one more rep.

Now, this was not how we were supposed to exercise every muscle every time. But the general idea was that if you weren’t pushing yourself and trying to really grow, you wouldn’t.

Arnold Schwarzenegger once said, “the last 3 or 4 reps is what makes the muscle grow. This area of pain divides the champion from someone else who is not a champion. That’s what most people lack: having the guts to go on and say they’ll go through the pain, no matter what happens.”

What most people lack is the guts to go on.

We lack the drive to be willing to push ourselves to failure.

In our gospel reading this morning, the disciples of Jesus Christ are in a boat. They have been sent by Jesus to head off and get ready for a new ministry adventure, but they have been kept up by everything that is going on outside of the boat. The wind is blowing, the waves are strong, and they are a bit fearful of what lies ahead. They really don’t know if Jesus will be on the other side of the lake in the morning.

We are a lot like those disciples. We are all here, because at some point we responded to the call of Jesus Christ in our lives and we showed up. We heard the call and got into the boat, even if we didn’t quite know where this boat was headed.

But, like the disciples, we also really want Jesus to come with us, to be with us, and we are afraid to push off from the shore out into the world.

In some ways, I think that is where our church is right now. We are hanging out in this boat that has kept us safe. You’ve been kept your heads above the waters and have navigated lots of storms. But the winds of the spirit have been blowing and have been moving among us, and I think that in many ways, we are now finding ourselves in uncharted waters – we are just a little ways from the shoreline that we are used to.

Right out there with the disciples. They found themselves in stormy waters, in unfamiliar territory, in a place they thought Jesus couldn’t possibly be. So much so, that they didn’t recognize Jesus when he showed up in the middle of the night.

Only Peter was brave enough, courageous enough, only Peter had the guts to go on and seek Jesus out there on the water.

He remembered who he was and who God was.

He remembered the ways that Jesus had called him to follow and the amazing things that could be accomplished in God’s name.

And he took the risk to step out of the boat… to be foolish and daring and to trust where the Spirit is leading.

He didn’t let his head tell him “no” when his heart was screaming “yes”.

And he walked on water.

Well, for a minute.

He got scared. He stumbled. He started to fall.

By all accounts, Peter failed.

But the thing is, he took the chance where no one else had.

He pushed himself far enough that he could fail, that he might fail, and while he did – it also meant that he was the only one who was in a place to grow from that experience.

In his book, Failure: Why Science Is So Successful, neuroscientist Stuart Firestein points out all the ways the scientific process guarantees failures and flops.

There are very few eureka moments or big discoveries compared with the thousands of failures and flops that happen along the way.

But every one of those failures is an opportunity to learn, tweak, grow, and do something different.

Every one of those failures allows you to learn a new limit or boundary and to push past it.

As a church, maybe we should embrace not only the art of ministry, but also the science of ministry.

We should take big enough risks and have the guts to try new things if the Spirit is leading us.

And we should not be afraid to fail and to fall flat on our face.

Because every time we do, we have the chanced to process, evaluate, and make adjustments.

When you turn in your Gifts and Talents booklet, here is the thing I want you to remember. You don’t have to be perfect in order to offer your gifts to God. None of us are. You will make mistakes. You will need others to help you and teach you. And you might even discover that something really isn’t for you. But you will never know what your limits are and how God might stretch you unless you offer yourself!

As a community, that also means that we need to be open and ready to surround people with love when they offer themselves and work for God’s kingdom, fully expecting that there will be mistakes along the way.

Innovation and discover take time, patience, grace, and a familiarity with failure. Holy failure. The kind of failure that means you are constantly moving on towards perfection – without judgment for where you have been.

God isn’t done with us yet… so may we have the courage to be ourselves, go all in, and make a whole lot of holy failures… knowing that Jesus (and this community of faith) is right here, ready to catch us.

Amen.

Sabbath

Posted on June 13, 2015Leave a comment

Still and quiet in the cove.
Every now and then a sprinkle.
Lazy breezes blow by and the birds talk to each other.
They catch up as we catch up. Goldfinch and cardinals, sparrows and blue jays.
Dancing and playing in the trees.
They feast on the gnats until the gnats feast on us.
So we leave the cove and return to the river.
Kick it into gear and the wind whips by.
Hands in the air, catching the currents.
Fragments of conversation drifting past.

when the storms of life are raging #gc2012

Posted on May 3, 2012Leave a comment

Our General Conference has been full of metaphors of water. Storms, wind, rain, water, shoreline, sails, rope, salt, you name it – we’ve shared the image. And it has been extraordinarily powerful when those symbols have captured the moments we have experienced: healing, encouragement, etc.

But that metaphor is also difficult when you feel like the waves are going up and down and up and down and a storm is brewing and the waves get higher and higher. General Conference is like that. Highs and lows. It is an emotional roller coaster of worshipful moments that help you soar in praise of God and then lead you into deep lament and repentance. It is the political thrill of watching legislation you deeply care about get discussed and perfected and pass… and then the heartbreaking disappointment when the church fails to act, or muddles the process, or goes in a direction that you feel is not God’s will.

Someone described it as inducing its own special kind of PTSD. And perhaps I didn’t quite realize what they meant until I found myself literally holding my breath, arms out in prayer over the whole delegation, waiting for the seconds to count down as the vote was cast for the church restructuring. The plan was not, and is not, perfect. We tried to work on some amendments and managed to increase representation from the central conferences, but did not pass what I believed was an important amendment to retain the independence of GCORR and GCSRW. Those two agencies are now subsumed into a “committee on inclusiveness,” and the failure of the amendment was devastating for me.

What troubled me the most is that there were still so many perfections and corrections that needed to be made to the plan but we didn’t take the time to make them. The UMW board was changed without us realizing it. The numbers don’t quite add up right on other boards. There are errata everywhere. But lunch was coming up, and we went to the vote… with 20+ white cards waving in the air (the symbol for a question, amendment, point of order, etc.)

I’m not sure what the implications of our restructure will be yet. I fear that we have pushed our monitoring agencies to the side and they will not have the voice they need to have to keep us from letting racism, tribalism, or sexism exclude people from the table. In the conversations about the loss of guaranteed appointment, I have heard from so many who fear that because they are a woman or black or don’t speak with english as a first language, that they are now in danger… not because they are ineffective, but because they do not feel like they have respect or are seen with dignity as a person who truly has a calling and gifts and graces. I have been blessed in my personal experience not to have to carry that kind of fear, but I have heard their pain and it made me remember how truly these (former) commissions have been… not only in the U.S. but also across the globe… and how much work there still is to do.

Last night, we refused to deal with an amendment to the constitution that would add “gender” and “age” to the list of things we are to be inclusive around. But we couldn’t imagine the future with kingdom eyes and for the third general conference in a row, we did not pass the amendment. We actually referred it back to the commission that brought it to the body. It made my heart hurt. I wanted us to stand up and take that simple stand and we refused to do it. And then we worshipped and were invited into a liturgy that spoke of welcoming woman and man and all different kinds of people and it just about broke me.

Someone posted on twitter today: At least in worship I feel like a United Methodist. And yet, in that service, I felt like we couldn’t truly speak those words. We as a body had failed to live into those words only an hour before. The only thing that saved me was the jazzy blues lament… Lord, have mercy. It was only because we lamented and cried out and (at least for me) begged for forgiveness that I could ride the wave to the next high point and look out over all that we are and all we try to do and get some perspective.

I was reminded this afternoon that although the waves are tumultuous this week and what we do may or may not have far reaching implications… on Sunday, I will be back in my local church. And I’ll be in the water again… only this time the waters of baptism as I bless, anoint, and name the grace of God that is already pouring into the life of little Joselin. And right there is where I belong. Speaking love and grace. Nurturing life and discipleship. Refusing to give in to the waves of doubt and fear and confusion. Holding steady, knowing Jesus is at my side.

walking on sunshine #reverb10

Posted on January 3, 2011Leave a comment

This prompt is HARD!!! First of all, I took a lot of pictures this year, so that was problem number one not a lot with me in them! Second, there are so many different “mes” I have tried to be this year. But In answer to the prompt:

December 25 – Photo – Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you. (Author: Tracey Clark)

It is not a flattering picture of myself… but it is me and my husband out on the water, enjoying the sun. I’m sure it is one that we took ourselves by holding out the camera. The sunglasses are on, the tongues are out – a sure sign of a good time and silliness, the air is warm, and we are with family enjoying ourselves.

What I see in this picture is life, energy, and fun.

This is the source of the passion I can bring to my ministry. It is what allows me to recharge my batteries. Whether it is Hawaii with my mom’s family or out on the river or the lake with my husband’s family, disc golfing in the summer… just being outside, enjoying the creation, letting other people take care of you and taking care of others is important.

What I want is for 2011 to have just as many of these kinds of moments, if not more. Times to truly relax and to be myself. Moments to let go and be silly. Days when I am not on call and don’t have to be anywhere… because they make those days when I do have to be there for others so much easier.

My first choice would have to be: