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The art of cuddling

Posted on January 30, 2020Leave a comment

I remember as a little girl when my mom would sit leaning on her side on the sofa and I could curl up in the cozy little spot that her legs made. It felt like it was a spot just for me. A place of safety and warmth and love.

As an adult, my spouse and I don’t have children – but we do have cats that like to cuddle.

Turbo is very extra particular about how he likes to cuddle. Usually, it is at the most inconvenient time (like when you are sleeping) and he has to be touching a minimum of two body parts at once (like an arm and your chest, or your head and your neck, or your leg and your stomach) and it takes him 15 minutes of moving around and going back and forth before he flops down exactly where he wants to be.

Tiki on the other hand wants a spot that is just far enough away for him to be self-differentiated. He’s a cat after my own heart, because his favorite spot is the same one I gravitated towards as a child, snuggled in the bend of a leg when someone is reclining or sleeping.

During this time away on renewal leave, I’ve had some really great time available to cuddle with my spouse. For some reason, cuddle time had been relegated to bedtime and we had found ourselves in the habit of keeping our own spaces the rest of the day. On the couch there is often a throw pillow or a whole cushion between us. Or we find ourselves in separate rooms all together, watching our own shows or doing our own thing. That is when I’m not spending my evenings and weekends at church.

But one afternoon last week, we cuddled on the chaise together for nearly two hours in the middle of the afternoon. There was nothing on the television… it was just us. We watched it snow. We giggled. We made plans for the coming week. We discussed some things we had been neglecting. We simply rested in one another’s presence. It was a place full of warmth and safety and love.

It struck me how long it has been since we had simply spent that time with one another… in not just close physical proximity, but that mental and emotional and spiritual kind of way, too. In that kind of way that blurs the line between where one begins and another ends.

I’ve been reading Cloud and Townsend’s book “Boundaries” during my renewal leave ( I have a lot of thoughts about this book – some positive and others not so much – but that’s probably another blog post), and one of the key messages throughout is that bonding is key to building good boundaries. In order to set boundaries, you need to know that you are loved, safe, and accepted. You need to know that in conflict, those things don’t and won’t change.

It’s why that space curled up with my mom was so important as a kid. I knew that no matter what, she was going to be there for me.

It was vital in the early stages of my relationship with Brandon. We would sit for hours in the back of his truck and cuddle up stargazing. We would sit close at movies with arms around one another. We would hold hands in the parking lot at school and talk until it got dark. Whenever we traveled with family, especially in those early years, I could tell the anxiety of the new places and people and relationships could all be soothed away at night when we snuggled in close together… just the two of us.

But it is also something that my spouse and I have been neglecting a bit in our relationship. When our time was occupied with chores and dinner and television watching an arms length apart, we were not reinforcing that message for one another. And in fact, some of the other messages we were sending had nearly the opposite effect.

We’ve been cuddling a bit more. Creating space for one another on the couch while watching a show. Intentionally stopping by one another’s space even when doing separate things to offer a squeeze or rub a shoulder or just cuddle for a minute. And taking time to literally stop everything and simply be present with one another.

I think it’s helping us to re-establish for one another that safe place of acceptance and love that has allowed us to engage in some other conversations in our life with a different sort of energy.

Recognizing the Messiah

Posted on January 19, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 49:1-7, John 1:29-42

It only takes a spark…

As I’ve shared with you in the past, my extended family has often been to Hawaii together. My grandpa and grandma were fairly blessed in their life and made the decision long ago to spend their money bringing us together than leave money to be fought over.

So growing up, what made these trips awesome was not just the location, but the uninterrupted week or two with family – playing, swimming, hiking, laughing.

One of our favorite adventures to do each trip is to hike the Diamond Head crater.

According to the souvenir t-shirt, the hike is:

0.7 mile long trail which is unpaved and has an uneven rock and dirt surface that may be loose and slippery in places. It leads through a dark tunnel and involves climbing a steep, 99-step concrete stairway and narrow spiral staircase inside an unlit bunker. The hike took about an hour up and 45 minutes back down.

Now, in reality, that’s not a bad trip… but when you consider that we normally make the hike with kids under the age of six, the trek suddenly becomes much longer.
Little feet get tired quickly and usually by the time we get a third of the way up the crater, someone wants to be carried.

So, I decided to start singing.
A simple call and response song the kids could repeat and had energy to keep their feet moving.
“the littlest worm”

Others chimed in and pretty soon, our whole group was singing our way up the crater.
We sang all sorts of camp songs and before the kids knew it, we had made it all the way to the top of the crater – and no one had been carried!

All it took was someone singing that first note and lighting the spark.

In many ways, that is what John the Baptist did so many years ago.

As we read this morning in the gospel, John saw Jesus walking by and said something.

Well, he didn’t just say something – John the Baptist called out: Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! Quite an introduction if you ask me!

The next day, John saw Jesus again and he shouted again, “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!”

And when his disciples heard it… they started to follow Jesus.

Not just that day. They stayed with him and then they too began to tell others the good news about Jesus.

It only takes a spark.

What does it mean to recognize the Messiah?
What does it mean to catch a glimpse of the light to all the nations?
And what does it look like to not just recognize this light, this Messiah, but to follow?
Does our encounter with this light of the world shape how we interact with others? How we share the good news?

In David Kinnaman’s 2007 book, unChristian, he presents research from the Barna Group on how young adults view Christians. Words like “antihomosexual”, “judgmental”, “hypocritical”, and “old-fashioned” top the list.
And not by slight margins. Over three-quarters of those interviewed would use those words.
We just can’t downplay, Kinnaman writes, “how firmly people reject – and feel rejected by – Christians.” (p19)

Those words might be surprising to you, but I’m married to someone has often said those exact things. Our friends are mostly outside of church circles, looking in, and they would say the same things.

And I think it is because somewhere along the way, we lost that first spark of John the Baptist and Andrew and Peter.

We find ourselves living in one of two extremes…

Sometimes the church claims to have the truth and light and acts with moral superiority over those who do not. Our light shines for others, but it is like the cold light of a neon sign – barking out truths, but not sharing the warmth of God’s love with them.

On the other hand, sometimes the church is turned inward on itself and afraid of what people will think if we talk about God. We are like those who have hidden their lamp under a bushel basket and the world can’t see the grace and mercy of our faith, because we are too timid to share it.

When you think about which of those two extremes gets more media coverage… which is more in the face of people who are outside the church and maybe it’s not so hard to see why those stereotypes of Christians among young people exist.

I think in many ways, this congregation is more like those in the second extreme.

I know that if people on the outside really got to know you and how you love and follow Jesus those adjectives wouldn’t be the first things that came to mind.

But are we actually out there, breaking down those barriers and stereotypes?
Does the fact that we follow Jesus make a difference in how we treat others?
Or, have we kept the good news locked up tight in our hearts?

Today is Human Relations Day and we remember that the church is called to: “recognize the right of all God’s children in realizing their potential as human beings in relationship with each other.”

On this day we remember that the light within us was meant to be a light to the nations and every person is a beloved child of God.

It is a reminder that the love of God that flows through us must be shared through actions as well as through words.

It is a reminder that a spark becomes a blazing fire only when we seek out others for the journey.

Look at those first followers of Christ, who selflessly loved other people and shared the light of God with them.
Daniel Clendenin at Journey with Jesus writes about how they chose to follow Jesus in words and deeds.
Like the Christ that they followed, they broke down social barriers.
They ignored religious taboos that judged people as clean or unclean, worthy or unworthy.
They subverted the power structures of their time that separated people by wealth, ethnicity, religion and gender.
And they didn’t allow their own interests to cloud the message about who Christ was, and is, and is to be.

First, look at John the Baptist.
He selflessly proclaimed Christ to the extent that his own followers left him.

While we sometimes think of John the Baptist as a solitary radical who lived in the wilderness and ate locusts, he had disciples.
These were people who believed his message and committed themselves to learning from him and supporting him.
Yet John did not allow his own interests get in the way of his message.

When he cried out that Jesus was the Lamb of God, his own followers stood up and literally began following Jesus down the road.

This spark that was let loose could not be controlled and like John the Baptist, we must be willing to let people follow another road and to go a different route if that is how they can best be in relationship with Christ.

I was a chaplain at a hospital one summer and met a woman newly diagnosed with leukemia.
She was terrified of death, of her “unfinished business” and wanted to know about God.
I had many conversations with her over the weeks and then months as she waited for a bone marrow transplant. We talked about Jesus and heaven and prayed through the psalms.

I felt like her pastor… but one morning I walked in and another was standing by her bed.
He was the pastor at her grandma’s Baptist church in her hometown.

I have to admit… I was a bit jealous and territorial at first. But as heartbreaking as it was, I knew it was better for her to build a relationship with this pastor. By doing so, she could follow Christ more closely and have a church community to walk with.

Like John the Baptist, I had to let her go.

Sharing the good news of God isn’t about numbers or competition in how many followers we have.
It’s about working together to bring about the Kingdom.
And so John let his followers go.
He knew the light of Christ was bigger than his one small spark of light.

Second, look at how Christ himself invited those first disciples into a relationship.

When they heard this was the Lamb of God, they ran down the road to catch up to him.
And Jesus turns around and simply asks them: What are you looking for?

He doesn’t spout off four essential things you need to know to be a Christian.

He doesn’t make them pass a litmus test on what they believe about him.

He doesn’t ask them to join in the “sinner’s prayer.”

He asks them what they are seeking.

What are we looking for?
What do we hope to find?
Their response was really simple… maybe because they didn’t really know what to expect:
I want to know where you are staying.

And Jesus says: Come and See.

This short exchange between two seekers and Jesus tells us a lot about how the light of Christ can shine in our lives.
They are curious. They don’t have all the answers.
And Jesus gently affirms that reality.
He invites them to dip their toes in. To check it out for themselves.
He welcomes them into his life, knowing that by being in relationship with him, their lives will be transformed.

We don’t have to have it all together to follow Christ.
We don’t have to have a blazing fire built up in our hearts.
It only takes a spark.
Just a spark of curiousity.
Just a spark of desire for the God who created us.

This spring, I attended a continuing education event with Rev. Lillian Daniel, who leads a congregation in Dubuque.

She talked about how there are a lot of people in this world who identify as nones, who have no faith community they might identify with.

Some of those folks she describes as “dones.” Maybe they were part of a church. Maybe they were harmed or pushed away by people inside the church. But for whatever reason – maybe even those adjectives and stereotypes mentioned before – they are done with the church.

But there are others who are “nones” but maybe could better be described as “not yets.” They don’t know what they are missing. They are curious. They might walk into a church building and have no idea what a hymnal is or when to stand or sit and what they should wear.

But that doesn’t mean they aren’t curious.

That doesn’t mean they don’t have question.

That doesn’t mean a spark isn’t ready to ignite in their hearts.

If we follow Jesus, that spark will be enough to get us started.
Along the way, the more we see and experience and share our lives with God, the more the light of Christ will grow in us.

What I find amazing about this story is that after just one night in the presence of Jesus, Andrew decided he had to tell someone about his experience.
That little spark of light within him began to burn, began to glow and shine for others.
Andrew ran home and found his brother Simon.
And he didn’t just tell Simon about Jesus.
Andrew actually took Simon to meet him.
He helped Simon experience Jesus for himself.

Think about that difference.
That difference between telling someone about the love of God and helping them to experience it.

When we invite other people to ‘come’ – do they ‘see’ Jesus in our congregations?
Do we live our lives out there in the world in a way that others don’t just hear about Jesus, but actually experience the light of God through us?

Relationships are the primary way we share the good news of God with others.
And when we are truly in relationship with others, those negative stereotypes fall away.
We can be present, listening to their questions more than sharing our answers.
We can be honest about our own struggles, rather than worrying about appearing perfect. Because let’s be honest… we aren’t perfect and pretending to be so is where that whole “hypocritical” stereotype comes from.

During the season of Lent, coming up in about six weeks, we are going to explore together what it means to take that light out from hiding under the bushel basket.
What does it mean to unbind the gospel, to let the good news loose in our lives?
I’m really excited about the opportunity we are going to have to pray together and to learn new ways of sharing our faith with others.

Because you see, when we have a relationship with Jesus… when we follow him… it is not just something we have chosen to believe.
It is something we have experienced.
And it is a spark we can’t help but share with others.

I think in many ways, that tendency to want to hide our light under the bushel basket, to keep it locked up tight is precisely what Christian author Marianne Williamson was thinking of when she wrote:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

That spark of light is within you… don’t hide it.
You are a beloved child of God.
So let the love of God shine out through you!
Through you, through us, through this church, God’s salvation can truly reach the ends of the earth.

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.

Renew the Journey

Posted on January 5, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 60:1-6, Matthew 2:1-12

Gracious God… May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts and minds be acceptable to you O Lord, our Light and our Salvation… Amen.

We find ourselves in a transitional time.
It is a transition between the season of Christmas and the ordinary time before Lent.
It is a transition between one year and the next.
The past and the present and the future all collide.
Who were we? Who will we become?
What are we willing to do to make it happen?

When astronomers from the East saw a great light in the sky, they knew the world was about to turn. They could feel in their bones that this moment, this transition, was going to change everything.
Everything they read and studied, everything revealed to them told them, deep within their bones that this light would lead them to the child born King of the Jews.
This child would lead Israel and conquer nations.
And they didn’t want to let this moment pass them by.
They wanted to be there.
They wanted to see for themselves.
This king was so important, he changed their lives, too.

I used to think of the wise men as professional star followers.
I always assumed that they knew exactly what they were doing.
But no matter how much preparation they had…
no matter how skilled they were at navigating the skies…
there are just too many unknowns.

They didn’t know what the trip would entail: how long would it take and how many provisions they should pack. Were they concerned about running out of food or water?
Afterall, there were no Casey’s or Kum & Go’s along the way.
They couldn’t guarantee safe places to rest or a friendly greeting when they finally arrived.
They believed they were looking for a king, but they didn’t know what this king looked like! They didn’t know when or if they would ever return home.

That kind of journey takes faith and trust and humility.
But maybe… it also takes a little bit of desperation.

So, there is a song by Styx that has be in my mind all week when I think all of those unknowns of the journey.

In the song we hear the words:
Every night I say a prayer in the hope that there’s a heaven
And every day I’m more confused as the saints turn into sinners…
I wake up each morning and turn on the news to find we’ve so far to go
And I keep on hoping for a sign, so afraid I just won’t know.
Show me the way, show me the way
Take me tonight to the river
And wash my illusions away
Show me the way

You know, I hear in these words someone who has been so disillusioned and frustrated by the world that they are desperate to find a new way.
Think about those wise men…
What would motivate them to seek out this King unless they were aching for something new to appear in the world?
These wise men had their eyes wide open, frantically searching for a sign, for something to lead them.

And it appeared before them.

I wrote this week in the message about seeking a clarity of vision…
I’m wondering how many of us… myself included… are more like the chief priests and scribes in King Herod’s court than those astrologers from the east.
You see, the religious professionals knew what they were looking for.
They had all of the predictions and prophecies.
When the wise ones appeared, they could easily point out exactly where it says in the scrolls of Micah and Samuel that this king would be born in Bethlehem.
But they couldn’t see.
They weren’t even looking.
They were going about their lives, blinded to the miracle that was taking place only six miles away from them.
A star, led people from halfway across the world, and they couldn’t see it.
Maybe, because they thought they could do it on their own.
Maybe, they got comfortable in their fuzzy awareness.
Maybe, they weren’t desperate enough to ask for God to show them a new way.

As this year turns, as this season turns, are you aching for something new?
Are you looking and trying to see and understand what might come next?
The year turned and all of our prayers for peace on earth feel like they have already been shattered by rumors of war. What is our path out of this mess?

There are questions that linger about the future of our denomination and so many, no matter their perspective are aching for a new possibility… could this new announcement this week be the sign we’ve been waiting for? That something different is on the horizon?

The continent of Australia is literally on fire, and for those who have been speaking out about the climate crisis wonder if maybe this, finally this, could be a turning point, a moment of desperation where we might collectively seek a different way of being in the world.

But aside from all of those global concerns, what about your own family. Your own faith journey.
I have places where I am ready to grow and deepen my relationship with our Creator and my spouse and my loved ones, places I’ve neglected and forgotten about in the busyness of life.
Places that I thought were doing okay… but that I’m now recognizing are a bit fuzzy and unclear.
I hear that happens as you get older.
Things get a bit more fuzzy and unclear and you need a little help.
We all do.
Honestly, no matter how old or young we are…
no matter how much we have studied scripture…
no matter how frequently we talk to God in prayer…
we all need help seeing God’s plans for our lives sometimes.
We all need help recognizing where God is in the midst of it all.

But as soon as we admit it…
As soon as we start looking…
As soon as that desperation creeps in…
When we fall on our knees in humility…
It appears.
An opportunity to put our faith in the one who can see.
That invitation to trust and let God lead us.
And the reminder that we aren’t on this journey alone.

I love that this tale of the wise ones in Matthew’s gospel isn’t the story of one person.
It’s about a group of people who put their lives in God’s hands.
And that’s what church is all about, isn’t it?
We need each other for support and for guidance.
We need one another to help interpret the signs and experiences that we have.
Each one of us brings to the scripture a fresh perspective.
We each have different gifts that complement one another.
Some of you may be teachers, others healers, some may be full of hospitality and others have the ability to lead.
It will take all of our skills together on this journey, along with the grace of God.
We are the body of Christ, in this place and in this time.
And none of us can do this alone.
We must ask for help, we must look to one another for guidance, and we must be willing to admit we don’t have all of the answers.
And as this new year turns, if we want to discover something new, then we need to be a little bit vulnerable and open to however and wherever the Spirit may move.

In many ways, that is what Epiphany is all about.
Epiphany is the revelation of God to the world.
And it didn’t happen just once with some magi from a foreign place….
No, God was continually revealing Godself throughout the life, death and resurrection of Christ…
and Jesus is still being revealed to us today through the Holy Spirit.
But sometimes we need to renew our journey with God, we need to ask for help, so that once again we can focus in on Jesus.

So over the next few weeks, our journey will take us along the paths of many people in the scriptures who have experienced “little epiphanies” – people who saw a glimpse of the fullness of God.
We will walk with John the Baptist in the River Jordan.
We will follow the disciples as they heard a call and experienced his teaching and miracles, and we will end up on the mountain where Jesus stood transfigured before Peter, James and John.
As we make this journey, I hope and pray that we will see Christ clearly.
I hope and pray that through him, God might again show us a way.
I hope we will see how our own lives need to be transformed because of what we have learned.

The magi saw a star in the sky that they believed would change the world.
And they got up and did something as a result.
They honored the Christ Child not just through their gifts.
But they took risks.
They made sacrifices.
They left behind what they thought they knew because they knew something so much better was in front of them.
That’s what I hope for you and for me and for all of us in this season.
I pray that we might be able to see with new eyes and new clarity just what God has in store.

The poet W.H. Auden wrote “to discover how to be human now / is the reason we follow this star.”

That is the journey that is before us.
To discover how to be human now.
To discover how to follow Christ now.
To discover what it means to be God’s people now.

It’s a journey that will take some faith.
And some trust.
And maybe just enough desperation that we can actually, really, truly surrender.

There is a prayer from our tradition that has often been used in this turning of the year to recommit ourselves, to reclaim God’s covenant, to renew our own journey of faith.
We have a modern paraphrase of Wesley’s Covenant Prayer and as we turn into this new year, I invite you to join with me in praying it together…

An Altogether Joy

Posted on December 22, 2019Leave a comment

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

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

Well, shoot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May it be so…

An Altogether Peace

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.

An Altogether Hope

Posted on December 1, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 1 Peter 1: 3-6, 9-15,22

Keep awake! Get ready! Prepare yourselves!
These are the words that fly at us from the scriptures for this first Sunday of Advent.
But get ready for what?
Get yourself ready for the future that God has already prepared for you.
Get ready to embrace the life that Christ is calling you to embrace.
Don’t just go through the motions of basic goodness, basic practices, and basic sincerity…
Prepare yourself to truly and fully live your life for the Kingdom of God.

Over these weeks of Advent, we are going to be exploring John Wesley’s sermon, “Almost Christian,” where he invites us to hold our lives up against the picture of all that God is inviting us to be and become.
Are we there yet?
Are we doing it perfectly?
Of course not.
But if we never take the time to check in and evaluate our lives, we will never do what it takes to take the next step.
So this year, as we get ready for Christmas, we are also getting ready and preparing to receive Christ even more fully into our hearts and our lives.
This year, we will look at what it might take the get ourselves ready to become Altogether Christians, who wholeheartedly trust God and put that trust into action.
Will you pray with me?

How many of you have ever had a bad day? What about a bad week? Or a whole year?
Life is downright tough sometimes. It is unfair. It is cruel.
We finally find the job we have been searching for, and then our spouse gets laid off.
A misunderstanding destroys a friendship.
Natural disasters wipe homes off the map.
Children go hungry.
And sometimes in the midst of all of the problems this world endures we might start to ask a question that my colleague, Sarah Bessey, asked: “How could we possibly enter into Advent if we are paying attention to this world?”
She goes on to say:
“When, in response to every crisis, our communities seem splintered and divided even in how to bind up each other’s wounds and careless words are flung like rocks at our own glass houses? When perhaps we are lonely or bored or tired or sick or broke or afraid? When we are grieving and sad?
In these days, celebration can seem callous and uncaring, if not outright impossible.
But here’s the thing: we enter into Advent precisely because we are paying attention.
It’s because everything hurts that we prepare for Advent…
We don’t get to have hope without having grief. Hope dares to admit that not everything is as it should be, and so if we want to be hopeful, first we have to grieve. First we have to see that something is broken and there is a reason for why we need hope to begin with.
Advent matters, because it’s our way of keeping our eyes and our hearts and our arms all wide open even in the midst of our grief and longing.” (https://sarahbessey.substack.com/p/does-advent-even-matter-when-the)

When I think back on the tough times that I have been through in my life…
as I have listened to folks share their own stories…
what often transforms the despair of grief into the dawning of hope is that we stop being mad and angry and frustrated and we start living into the reality that we believe is possible.
It seems contrite to say that there are two ways of looking at world – either as a glass half-full or a glass half-empty… but maybe it really is as simple as that.
Either the world is a place of darkness or it is a place where the light of God dwells…
Either God has abandoned us or God is working out a plan of salvation…
Either Christ’s work is done or soon and very soon the Son of Man is coming…
Can you hear the difference in those statements?
Are we going to live as a people of hope?
Or are we going to let the grief and frustration overcome us?
That is our choice.
That is why the prophets and the apostles cry out – Keep Awake! Get Ready! Prepare Yourselves!

Hope itself can seem naïve when the world around us is falling apart.
But I turn to scriptures like the one we have read today from 1 Peter, because they remind me that the trials we are experiencing are nothing new.
In the midst of persecution, Peter wrote to early Jewish and Gentile Christians with advice about “how to survive in the midst of a hostile world” (The Rev. Sharon Ann Alexander – CEB Women’s Bible Commentary)
In the midst of their suffering, they are not promised that everything will be better, but they are invited to be born into a living hope.
This hope is not a pie in the sky wish.
It is a hope grounded in the reality that the one we put our faith and trust in has already overcome the reality of execution and death.
And we do not embrace this hope haphazardly.
We place our hope on Christ with minds that are fully sober and thinking clearly.
Or as the Message translation puts it: “Roll up your sleeves, put your mind in gear, be totally ready to receive the gift that is coming when Jesus arrives.”

And we do that by embracing God’s will, God’s holiness, God’s truth in everything we do.
We do that by putting our faith and trust and hope into action.

The first step, Peter reminds us is to stop living in grief, despair, and the patterns of our lives before Christ.
We need to let go off everything that bogs us down and drains us.
Or as the Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 13: we can’t afford to waste a minute, we must not squander these precious hours of daylight in frivolity and indulgence, in sleeping around, in bickering and grabbing everything in sight. Get out of bed and get dressed!
Think about one thing that you can do differently this Advent season as you prepare for Christmas.
What is something that you can do that will renew your hope and your faith… instead of depleting your energy and your faith?
In our Advent study, “Altogether Christmas,” Ingrid McIntyre reminds us of the difference between almost hope and altogether hope.
“One stands at a distance while the other relentlessly pursues; one offers platitudes while the other dives deep into the hopelessness of a situation and offers light in the darkness – light that grows and grows and grows.” (p. 42)
Instead of spending hours shopping for perfect present, could you go to someone who is struggling and spend that time with them, offering hope and light into their life?

The next step is to keep God in the center of all we do.
Sometimes, in our frustrating times, in the days that seem without hope, we turn our backs on God.
We look for salvation in all the wrong places.
We look for things that will make us feel better, self-medicating with alcohol or shopping sprees or social media.
We turn towards the darkness and yell at it for being so dark.
And we continue to feel alone, and empty, and lost.
But instead, when we reconnect with the very one who gave us new birth as a living hope… when we love and trust and believe and rejoice in this God even on the tough days… then the very same power that raised Christ from the dead fills up our lives and gives us the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
So find some time this Advent to spend in devotion and prayer. Take some time to reflect on those questions from the sermon “Almost Christian.” Let the Spirit of Christ fill your heart.

Finally, we need to embrace the truth that hope is not just a sentiment, but an action we are called to embrace with every fiber of our being.
In her article, Sarah Bessey writes that “Advent holds the truth of what is right now up to the truth of what was and what will be.”
As our Advent study, “Almost Christmas,” reminds us:
“John Wesley saw and experienced the same society problems as others, but instead of accepting them, he raised hell about them so that just maybe a few neglected others could experience hope… the Church of England wasn’t living up to the church Wesley saw described in the scriptures. [so] Wesley became prophetic hope for the church.”
“Hope came when a group of people were unwilling to stay silent, who weren’t afraid to stand up and say, ‘We just can’t do this anymore.’… “Instead of just saying the words, ‘thy kingdom come,’ Wesley let God embody the hope of those words through his flesh.” (p50-51)
This Advent, find ways to let the hope of God come alive in your flesh.
Sponsor a family for Christmas.
Speak out against immigration policies that are hurting families.
March for the climate crisis.
Visit our homeless neighbors.
Fill the food pantry with donations…
Whatever it is that is breaking your heart… whatever it is that you are grieving… find a way to hold it up to the truth of what God desires for that situation and get ready to do something about it.
Make hope real with your arms and legs and feet.
Then, maybe God’s altogether hope will be born into this world once again.

Grounded in our Neighborhoods

Posted on November 17, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7; Matthew 22: 34-40

Next week is the premiere of “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” the new movie about Mr. Rogers. I grew up with Mr. Rogers welcoming me home in the afternoon from school. We entered the land of make-believe and I heard him speaking to me and my child-like worries and curiosity. But I also saw Mr. Rogers walk around and interact with his neighbors.
Growing up on a farm in the country, I never felt like I was part of a neighborhood. At least not in the way I saw it on television. After all, there was only one house within half a mile of our own.
But we did know our neighbors. We would help one another mend fences or bring in crops. The neighbor kids and I rode the bus together. We’d do the farmer wave as we passed by … and sometimes even stop the cars in the middle of the gravel road to catch up on gossip.
Throughout this month, we are exploring what it means to be grounded in God through the relationships of our lives.
We looked at the ancestors who have grounded us in a sense of persistence, strength, and identity.
David helped us think last week about our homes and families and the sense of belonging and love we find there.
And today, we are turning back to Diana Butler Bass and her book, Grounded, and thinking about how God shows up in our neighbors.
When we think about neighborhoods today, fewer people feel like they belong in the same kind of way. Even if we live closer in proximity, we feel more and more isolated. As Butler Bass writes:
“Although we live near to one another in neighborhoods, we do not feel that we necessarily belong to one another, that we have neighborly relations with either place or people. We might live in a particular location, but it is hard to sense that our lives are with others. In a way, a neighborhood is simply the space where people reside near others; the challenge of re-creating vibrant, healthy neighborhoods is building connections between people and, in the process, turning isolated individuals into neighbors. Thus the meaning of “neighborhood” is intimately caught up with an important question, one fraught with spiritual and ethical implications: who is my neighbor? “ (p. 204).

I actually have a question for you.
Who is your neighbor?
Literally.
Do you know their names?
Do you know their stories?
Each of you, when you came in today, was handed a map. And we are going to come back to that, but I want to invite you to turn it around and grab a pencil or pen or crayon… whatever is handy.
Draw a box to represent your home… whether it is an apartment or house or condo.
Now, draw a box to represent the neighbors to your left and right.
Draw a box to represent those who are across the hall or across the street.
Draw a box or two to represent any who might live behind you.

Here is my drawing.
Now… who lives in those homes?
Who are your neighbors?
Take a minute and write down as many names as you can

I must admit, I began working on this exercise and felt a bit of shame that I didn’t know all of the answers.
I could think of at least one person on those homes, but not the whole family. I couldn’t remember Cheryl’s wife’s name. Or Chad’s. Or Mitch or Rusty’s.
And to be honest, Mitch and his family moved out a couple of months ago and I still haven’t met the new couple that moved in.
I have no clue what the names are of the people who live behind us.
And if I don’t know their names, how could I possibly know their stories?
How could I possibly begin to pray for them, much less love them as Jesus commands me?

There is a strange phenomenon that has impacted our neighborhoods architecturally. Our homes used to have front porches on them and parking was on the street. Now, neighborhoods like mine have large two car garages. We open the door, drive our cars in, and never really have to get out and interact with our neighbors.
Apartments or condos can function the same way.
We don’t take the time to get to know, or spend time with, or open our lives to the people around us.

There is that old adage that good fences make good neighbors, but the truth is, maybe good tables make good neighbors.
Hospitality and open doors make good neighbors.
In a world of increased tribalism, where we live in echo chambers and online digital communities of people who are just like us, maybe we need to go back to our scriptures and explore how ancient tribal societies interacted with one another.
Over and over again in scripture, we hear the call the be neighborly.
To be hospitable.
To open our homes and our tables to others.
To reach out the immigrant, the widow, the orphan.
To provide help to those who are in need.

Henri Nouwen, a Catholic priest and theologian noted that our society tends to look at the stranger with suspicion, expecting others to do us harm.
Instead, he talked about how our world needed to convert hostility into hospitality and turn the enemy into our guest.
Then, “guest and host can reveal their most precious gifts and bring new life to others… [hospitality] as a fundamental attitude toward our fellow human being.” (p. 220)

This is the spirit that Jeremiah invited the people of Israel to embody in Babylon.
Their nation had crumbled. Their temple was destroyed. Their identity was gone.
And their enemy had carted his people off to a strange and foreign land.
How would they live in this new place?
What would they do?
Jeremiah has incredible advice for those who are finding themselves living in the worst moment of their life…
Dive deep into your new neighborhoods and keep living.
As he wrote to these exiles who had been dragged from their homeland to a faraway place, instead of this being a letter full of lament or sorrow or anger, it is a word of life.
In this strange land, in this place of exile and hopelessness…
Build houses.
Plant gardens.
Fall in love.
Have babies.
Make yourself at home.
Don’t let this time of chaos and turmoil keep you from thriving.
Jeremiah’s advice focuses in many ways on what individuals can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but he closes this passage with one additional piece of advice.
Work for the well-being of whatever new place we find ourselves in.
He was asking the exiles to focus not just on their own well-being… but that of their oppressor, Babylon, as well.
Because their future depended upon its welfare.
He was asking them to be good neighbors.
He was asking for them to invest their time and energy into making that place the best it could be.
Not just for themselves… but for all who share this place with you and whomever might come after you.
Keep on living.
And keep on creating space for life and life abundant to happen for others.

I want to invite you to pull out that map again.
Because this is a map of our neighborhood.
This is where this congregation has been planted.
We might not all physically live here anymore, but our future depends upon its welfare.
And we are called, as a church, to invest our time and energy into making this corner of the world, our corner of the world, the best that it can be.

And so I have a challenge for you this week.
I want you to pray for this neighborhood.
I want you to pray for the people here.
I want you to pray for the businesses that share this space with us.
I want you to pray that God’s will might be done in this place
And I want you to ask God how we can better invest our lives in these people and this place.

There are a couple of ways you could do this.
After church today or later this week you could physically walk around in this neighborhood and pray for the people and places you pass.
Or, you could take this map and sit in a quiet place and run your finger slowly along the roads.
Imagine in your mind the houses and the people and pray for them as you journey along.
Choose a different route each time you sit and pray.

You can do the same thing with the neighborhood you live in.
What would it be like if you not only got to know them… their names and what they worry about and what makes their heart sing… but also if you prayed for them.
What if you prayed for your neighbors every day?

So many of us have superficial relationships with these folks.
We are afraid to talk about the things that matter to us, thinking we might offend or put them off. But what if saw our neighbors as beloved children of God who might be yearning for the same kind of spiritual connection that we are?
How might we have different kinds of conversations?
How might we share God with them in new ways?