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Grounded with our Ancestors

Posted on November 3, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 1:1-17

The very name of our church, Immanuel, means “God-with-us.”
God is with us.
Right here in this very time and place.
Living, moving, breathing.

In times past, we relegated God to the heavens while we mundane humans continued our life here below.
And then we cried out in times of tragedy… “God, where are you?!”

In other times, the suffering in our midst was so stark that we thought surely God was dead… or even worse, didn’t care.

But that is not who God claims to be.
God takes on flesh and makes a home among us.
And his name is Immanuel.
God is here.

Diana Butler Bass is a respected Christian academic whose books offer hope and meaning to many. In particular, she is helping us all to navigate what it means to live as people of faith in a world that increasingly doesn’t care about what Christianity has to offer the world.
In her book, Grounded, she wrestles with what it means to really understand that God is with us. She describes it as “a social and political question with sweeping consequences for the future.” If we really focus on rediscovering and relocating and reacquainting ourselves with God, Immanuel, with us right here… it will reground our lives.
It will center us.
Give us purpose.
Remind us of who we are.
And…
It will call us to a new way of being in this world.
As Butler Bass writes,
“God is.. that which grounds us. We experience this when we understand that soil is holy, water gives life, the sky opens the imagination, our roots matter, home is a divine place, and our lives are linked with our neighbors’ and those around the globe. This world, not heaven, is the sacred stage of our times.” (p 26)

We are turning the corner on the Christian year and preparing for Christ to be born among us once again.
So I wanted to invite us to look at some of those relationships throughout the month of November that Butler Bass claims ground us in the life of God. Our roots – or our history and ancestors…. Our home lives… our neighborhoods… and this common, kingdom life to which we all belong.
How should we look upon those relationships if God is truly present in the midst of them?
How might our relationship with one another change?

Today, we celebrate the saints who have completed the race and now rest in the presence of God.
We remember their lives.
We cherish their memories.
Each one planted seeds of faith and hope and love in us and have shaped us.
I asked you to share with me some of your own stories of these saints in your individual lives.

One of you told me about Gramma Gert – or GG – the nucleus of your family. She never drove, but either walked or got a ride to church every Sunday. If you had anything to pray for… you took it to GG… because you knew it would get plenty of Godly time and attention.

Someone else fondly remembered their third grade Sunday School teacher, Mr. Going who taught them the Lord’s Prayer. Rather than simply memorizing it, they took it line by line and rewrote it in words that were easier for a child to understand. Mr. Going made faith real.

Another of you shared with me the story of your great grandmother who came to Iowa from Norway in 1862 at the age of six. She dictated her own life story and left these words at the end… Love one another, Jesus has said, “If you don’t love one another you don’t love me”… and she addressed her children and their future families saying, “I have prayed for you all, I put you all in the Lord’s hands… God bless you all, may we me up yonder where there is no parting anymore.”

Whether it was a parent, or teacher, a neighbor or great-grandparent, these people of faith left a mark on your life.

One of the things I have been challenged by in Butler Bass’s book, however, is to remember that our roots are far deeper than our memory.
We are shaped and influenced by generations that have come and gone… and yet we seem to have forgotten their stories.

I actually thought I was doing pretty good by this account.
My mom and I have done a bit of genealogy work on our families. We have spent hours researching names through the Mormon genealogy center. We’ve created family trees that go back not just hundreds, but thousands of years. In fact, one line that we traced goes back all the way to the year 6!
Together with great-aunts and cousins, we have trampled through cemeteries in south central Iowa to find tombstones of relatives long dead and gone.
We’ve even gathered iris bulbs from one of those long forgotten places and brought them home to bring a piece of the family back with us.

But Butler Bass notes that we save things and we gather information, but we don’t often collect what those details mean to our lives. “We have more information about the past,” she writes, “but less actual connection to it than those in previous ages.”
The truth is, I don’t know the stories of most of those names I have collected together in my family history. I can tell you where they lived and died and where they are buried… but what did they experience in this life? What brought them joy? What struggles did they over come? Their stories are largely forgotten because we stopped handing them down.
And even on days like today, when we celebrate communion with the saints of God, with those who have gone before us, when we invoke their presence and their memory… do we have any sense of whom we are eating with today?

Our text for this morning is in essence a family tree. It is a genealogy of Jesus Christ shared with us by the apostle Matthew in his gospel.
And truth be told, often we glance at those names and the same sense of dryness and lack of life and history overcomes us.
We gloss over their names as a boring list of people we don’t know.
But they are our spiritual ancestors.
And who they were matters.
And who was included in those histories matters.
One of the things that you might notice if you compare the genealogy of Matthew and Luke is that Matthew actually includes the names of some women!
We find the story of Tamar… who was left widowed and childless in an age in which that was a death sentence. This family tree continues only because she tricked her father-in-law, Judah, into getting her pregnant by dressing up as a prostitute.
Rahab was an actual prostitute who was part of the battle of Jericho… Joshua sent spies into the city to scout it out and Rahab is the one who sheltered them. As a result, her family was rescued and she married into one of the important families of Israel.
Her son, Boaz, married an foreign immigrant, Ruth, who tricked him into the relationship by getting him drunk one night.
We are reminded in this genealogy that Solomon’s mother was Bathsheba. His family story is one of adultery and murder as Bathsheba was taken advantage of by David.

These are stories of scandal, but also intense strength, compassion, resolve, and determination. These women and the lives they led are our spiritual ancestry!
I wonder if Matthew perhaps included these women in his ancestry of Jesus as one way of grounding the story of Mary and Joseph and rumors and scandal circulating around his birth. But also, it was a testimony to the faithful ancestors that gave someone like Mary the courage to keep trusting God would be with her in the midst of the journey.

How does knowing these stories ground our sense of purpose, identity, and ability to navigate the trials and tribulations of our lives? Might we call upon these ancestors and their faith in God to help us persevere in our own journey?

Another thing you’ll notice if you look at the family tree included in Matthew as opposed to the one in Luke, you’ll actually find two very different stories of where Jesus comes from and what his life means, claiming political and spiritual authority from different sources!
Matthew grounds the life of Jesus in the history of the Jewish people. As verse 1 proudly states: A record of the ancestors of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham. He is the heir of the Kingdom of David and of the covenant of Abraham. He is the King of the Jews.
Luke’s version ignores most of kings and focuses on ordinary, everyday folks who don’t appear in grand stories of scripture. And his version goes all the way back, not just to Abraham, but to Adam… emphasizing the whole family of earth.
There was actually a joke I heard frequently growing up that all the Czechs on the south side of the Cedar River were related to one another. Not originally, of course, but because “bohemies” couldn’t swim, we all ended up marrying one another.
I saw this in my own lifetime… My Babi (grandma) was a Benesh and my Deda (grandpa) was a Ziskovsky.
Just two generations later, a second cousin from the Ziskovsky side married a fourth cousin from the Benesh side…
That’s in essence Luke’s point… Instead of emphasizing one thread of one famous family, he brings home the point that we’re all eventually related to everyone else. His is a family tree that is a lot like the image on the front of your bulletin… with a single origin for us all.
What does it mean for our relationships with one another, if we recognized our common ancestory and inheritance as children of God? If we remembered that our stories all start in the same place, grounded in the same history, created by the same God?

Today, we feast with our ancestors.
We remember the lives they lived.
We remember the faith they handed down.
And their lives help us to become even more grounded in our relationship with the one who not only created us, but who is right here with us.
A God who was, and is, and is to come.
Immanuel…
God with us.

Imagine the Abundance

Posted on October 27, 2019Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does church actually make a difference in your life?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Imagine the Transformation

Posted on October 20, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 14:13-21 (focusing on verses 18-19), Philippians 1:3-11

Last Sunday in worship, I preached about our limitations.
About how little we have… or think we have… that can be offered up for ministry.
When we see so much need around us in the world, it is easy to believe that we can’t possibly begin to make a difference.

And the truth is, we can’t.
Not on our own.
Not by ourselves.
But the good news is… it isn’t about us and what we can do.
It’s about what God can do through us.

This morning as we heard, once again, the miraculous story of how five thousand men (plus women and children) were fed, I want to focus in on just two verses of this pericope.
First, Jesus invites the disciples to hand over what they have.
“Bring those fish and loves to me,” he says. “Let me see what I can do with it.”
And then he invites people to gather around and he does something that is all too familiar to us when we gather for communion…
He prays.
He blesses the bread.
He breaks it.

What does that remind you of?

Communion!

Jesus blesses the gifts, breaks them
And he gives it back to the disciples.
Only then do they give it to the congregation…
To the crowds…
To the multitudes.

Only AFTER Jesus has taken their gifts and blessed and transformed them do the disciples head back out in service.

Or maybe it is simply after we recognize that our gifts are from God that we are truly able to share them with others.
There are times in our lives when we underestimate and we under appreciate our gifts.
We devalue ourselves and others and the most common way we do it is with a tiny little word: “just.”

We “just” have five loaves and two fishes.
I “just” have five minutes to give.
She is “just” a stay at home mom.
They “just” come to coffee time.
I “just” sing at church.

Can you hear the limitation?
Can you hear how we are denying the possibility?

What if instead we claimed:
We HAVE five loaves and two fishes – Jesus, what can you do with them?
I HAVE five minutes that I can give, how can I make the most of them?
She IS a stay at home mom and is able to be present for her children and volunteer in a really special way.
They come to coffee time and build these amazing relationships where they share about their families and check in when no one else is there and laugh until their bellies hurt.
I sing at church and praise and make music to God!

If instead of dismissing our gifts, we offered them up and let God transform and use our minutes and presence and abilities – imagine what could happen.

Now, I want to highlight that last one because it was something that might have been said by a middle aged woman who lived alone with her cat, Pebbles.
But when Susan Boyle stepped on a stage in 2009, she allowed her gifts to be used for something far bigger than she could ever imagine.

When she walked out on that stage, everyone underestimated what she could do and what her gifts were. And, I’d venture a guess that she probably also underestimated herself.
In fact, as much as she might have believed in herself, the immense joy that crossed her face when the judges all said yes was simply amazing.
Stored up inside of her for all of those years were these powerful notes and no one took them seriously.
It wasn’t until she was given a chance to really and truly share her gifts with others and to receive encouragement and affirmation did she realize what a blessing she had received and what it could do to change the world.
In the aftermath of her performance, Susan Boyle caused millions of people to take a second look at their preconceptions and to reach out to affirm the gifts they see in others.

In many ways, I think that is part of what the Apostle Paul is doing in his letter to the people of Philippi.
He sees their gifts.
He notices their generosity.
And he thanks God for the ways that they are allowing themselves to be used by Jesus to make a difference in the lives of others.
One of my favorite lines from this comes in verse six, and here it is from the Message translation:

There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.

Friends, God is doing a great work among you here at Immanuel, too.
I look out at this congregation and my heart is full of prayers of thanksgiving as well.
I think about the way a mission trip got started decades ago and how every single year communities are transformed by our Volunteers in Mission who are willing to hammer nails and lay floors and serve their neighbors. THANK YOU GOD.
I think about how a simple garage sale a couple of years ago raised over $7000 for our homeless neighbors. THANK YOU GOD.
I think about how a idea sparked at the worship vision conversation turned into a benefit concert for DMARC this summer. THANK YOU GOD.
I think about all of the adults who joined forces to work on our Vacation Bible School sets – offering up their carpentry or painting or crafting skills… sets that not only blessed our children, but those at other churches, too. THANK YOU GOD.
My mind wanders to the women who gather to knit and crochet on Wednesdays and in their own homes and all of the lives who have been comforted by prayer shawls. THANK YOU GOD.
I think about the parents who are so blessed because people give their time on Wednesday afternoons to come in and prepare meals for our evening programming. THANK YOU GOD.
I think about our neighbors who walk by this building and can look out on our beautiful flowers and plants because some generous souls have given their time and energy to plant and water and maintain our gardens. THANK YOU GOD.
I think about the homebound folks who know they are not alone because one of you has stopped by for five minutes to drop off a simple card or gift or just to say hi. THANK YOU GOD.

And I know and believe and have no doubt that the God who started all of these good works in you will keep at it and keep using and multiplying and blessing your gifts so that they will continue to spill out into this world.
What you do matters.
What you give matters.
And it matters because God is working through you to bless this world.

Imagine the Possiblities

Posted on October 13, 2019Leave a comment

Text | Isaiah 55:6-11; Matthew 14:13-21
Focus Verse | Matthew 14:15-17

A few of you have been around recently as some neighbors have stopped in looking for some financial assistance.
I’ve watched as you have greeted them with kindness and respect and helped them find their way to my office.
I often sit down and visit with these new friends about what is happening in their life and how the church might be able to make an impact on their struggles.

But I have to be honest with you.
When I really listen to their stories, what I feel is overwhelmed.
Because we don’t have the kind of resources in our account to actually make a difference.
Every month I turn away folks who stop in or call and who need $250 for a utility bill…
or $700 to help make rent…
or $45 to fill up their gas tank…
Or rather, I could help one or two people one time, but certainly not the next, or the one after that.

And I started to recognize over a couple of years of providing this emergency assistance on behalf of the church is that many of our neighbors are chronically in need of help.
They have full time work, but they can’t make ends meet because their wages are too low to provide a living for themselves and their families.
Or, an illness or injury have taken them off of the job and they don’t have a backup plan in place.

The other day, a young man came in and needed some help to make rent. He had lost his job due to downsizing and had no savings built up. When he couldn’t immediately find a new opportunity, he got behind on rent.
The day he came in to see me, he had begun a new job, but had not yet received a paycheck. And that day, he had eviction proceedings and had to bring a check for two months’ worth of rent or he would be out.
I personally, and we as a church, don’t have the resources to provide two months of rent for a neighbor in need. I sat there and all I could think of was our own limitation.

Over 100,000 children in Iowa are food insecure – which means they do not have access to three meals a day.
Just under 3,000 people are homeless in our state.
37,000 of our neighbors in Iowa struggle with serious mental illness daily.
Real needs.
Real problems.
Real ministry opportunities.
And we can’t feed all of those kids.
We can’t build houses for all of those homeless neighbors.
We can’t completely turn upside down our mental health infrastructure.
We can only see our own limitations.

In the gospel of Matthew, the disciples are faced with a similar dilemma.
These multitudes that we talked about last week had flocked to the countryside to listen to Jesus… but now it was getting late.
We actually don’t know how many people were there – if you pay close attention to the story, it mentions that 5,000 men were eventually fed… 5,000 – not counting the women and the children.
Let’s pretend for just a moment that there was just one woman or child for every man who was counted… that’s 15,000 people who are hungry, tired, and out there in the middle of the wilderness.
To put that into perspective – the seating capacity for Drake’s Stadium is 14,557.
A stadium full of people are in need.
Right now.
And so the disciples kind of pull Jesus aside and whisper to him.
“Hey friend, you know, we probably can’t keep all of these people here. They are going to need to sleep, they need food, they need shelter and water. Wrap it up so that we can send them on their way.”

You see, they had already looked in their bags and they saw their own limitation.
They couldn’t take care of all of those people.
So send them off.
Bless them, say a prayer, and just hope that they’d find some sustenance somewhere else.

It’s the feeling I have often when I sit and visit with someone who is in some financial need.
I really don’t have what it will take to help you, but I can listen. I can say a prayer and give you this list of resources and hopefully someone out there can make a difference.
Surely, Jesus understand that.

Except…
Well, except Jesus has a totally different plan in mind.
“We don’t need to send them away. You take care of them. You give them something to eat!”

And those disciples, well, they look back in their bags.
“Umm… Jesus. There are twelve of us, and we barely brought enough dinner for ourselves. We’ve got five loaves and two fish. That’s it.”

The disciples saw only their limitation.
They’d already made plans.
They had budgeted and prepared and were doing their best to live and minister within those resources.
They had no capacity to imagine that this unexpected ministry opportunity would arrive on their doorstep.
And when it did, they immediately decided it was impossible.
We can’t do that.
We don’t have the resources.
We don’t have the staff.
We don’t have the bread. Literally.

But as the prophet Isaiah reminds us… God is not bound by our limitations.
God’s plans aren’t our plans.
God’s ways aren’t our ways.
And as Paul writes to the people of Ephesus… God can do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine.

I think in this moment in the story, Jesus is inviting the disciples…
Jesus is inviting us…
To imagine.
Imagine if we could feed all of those people.
Imagine if we could house all of our neighbors.
Imagine if we could bring mental wellness to our friends and family.
Imagine if we could stretch beyond our own capacity and limitations and tap into the gifts and resources of the divine.

Last week, when I asked you to think about what kept drawing you back here… what kept you coming back to Immanuel… one of the most frequent answers I heard was that this is home. This is family.
Imagine if we could be a place where people who have no home, have no family, have no support found that, too.

For sure, it’s not in our budget.
It’s not in what we have planned and prepared for ministry.
This plan is far bigger than anything we have the capacity to do right now.
We’ve only got five loaves and two fish.

But we have a ministry opportunity with thousands of people on our doorstep.
So imagine with me…
Dream with me…
What would we do if we weren’t limited by our own resources?

Or to put it another way…
If you were gifted $150,000 to respond to a need, any need that is right in front of us here in Des Moines… what would you do?
Take a minute and dream.
Take a minute and imagine.
If God was starting a miracle right here in Des Moines with our meager fish and loaves… what would God want us to do?
Use the paper in the insert and write down your impossible dream and your wildest imagining… and then in a few minutes I want you to give them up to God with your offering.

Take Our Bread: Imagine the Multitudes

Posted on October 6, 2019Leave a comment

Text | Isaiah 55:1-6, 12; Matthew 14:13-21
Focus Verse | Matthew 14:13

There’s hope for the hopeless
And all those who’ve strayed
Come sit at the table
Come taste the grace
There’s rest for the weary
Rest that endures
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t cure

Dave Crowder – “Come as You Are”

Come, sit at the table
Come to the water.
Come, buy food without money and eat.
Come taste the grace.
Come, be healed.
Come, be fed.
Come.

In our gospel story from Matthew for this morning, Jesus wasn’t issuing an invitation with words.
In fact, if we look closely at these verses, he was actually trying to get people to stay away.
He had just learned the devastating news that John the Baptist had been executed and he needed some time to grieve and process and pray.

But the very life and ministry of Jesus was an invitation.
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t saying the words himself, because everyone else was.
The leper who had been exiled from community was now healed and his very skin was a testimony to Jesus power of healing.
The centurion… a Roman soldier… an agent of empire… came to ask for healing for his beloved companion – and not only was the man healed, but the centurion was praised for his faith. Someone who might have been seen as an enemy or the oppressor found a place in the ministry of Christ
The demon possessed men living among the tombstones who were returned to community.
The chronically bleeding woman who was finally able to be touched again.
The blind men who were told to keep quiet about the miraculous healing but who couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

Everywhere Jesus went, stories of healing and forgiveness and restoration followed.
There was hope for the hopeless…
There was rest for the weary…
There was healing for the broken…
There was purpose for the forgotten…

And when you hear and see ordinary people who are transformed by an extraordinary grace and power, you can’t help but want to come and see for yourself.
And so crowds of people who had heard about this Jesus from their neighbors and family and friends flocked out to the countryside, to the wilderness, to catch just a glimpse for themselves.

There was a thought a decade or two ago that all churches needed to do in order to attract new people to Jesus was to provide all of the things that non-churched people needed.
A coffee station by the sanctuary.
A gym for the sports people.
The best musicians money could buy.
If you build it, they will come.

And sure some people flocked to see the gigantic megachurch with all the features.
And some people found real grace and community there.
But you know what really brings people into community?
Do you know what has always worked?
Ordinary people, who are transformed by an extraordinary grace and power, and who can’t keep their mouths shut about Jesus.
The leper who suddenly could move back home.
The bleeding woman whose grandkids could crawl up on her lap.
The broken man who was able to provide for his family again.
People just like you and me who tell others about what they have found.
People, just like you and me, who issue the invitation.
Come and see.
Come, taste the grace.
Come, be healed.
Come, sit at the table.

I believe that the church is the body of Christ.
It is where, today, we experience grace and hope and forgiveness and healing.
So, friends, I have a question for you…
Why do you keep coming back to Immanuel?
What have you found here that has changed your life?

This is not a rhetorical question.
I want to invite you to turn to your neighbor and share with them… what draws you over and over again back to this community of faith?
What have you found here that has made a difference in your life?
[2-3 minutes of sharing]
Are there any of you who want to share with the whole group what you shared with your neighbor?
[2-3 stories]
As followers of Jesus Christ, we have a story to tell.
We have a story of transformation and hope and healing.
We have a story that people out there in the world who are lonely and broken and hungry are longing to hear.
But so often, we hide our story, our witness, our LIGHT, under a bushel basket where no one can see it.
So here is your challenge for this week.
I want to invite you to tell at least ONE person outside of this building why you keep coming back to Immanuel.
And for those of you who use social media, it is even easier… I want to invite you to post your story.
Tell your friends something about why being here at Immanuel has made a difference in your life.
Share what you learned in your book study that has changed your perspective.
Talk about a relationship with your pew mate that has helped you to not feel so alone.
Tell the story of how someone was the hands and feet of Jesus in the midst of your difficult time.
Don’t be shy.
Tell your story.
Because people out there in the world… your kids and friends and neighbors… are longing to hear about how they might find hope or healing or a kind of deeper satisfaction than the things that this world is offering.

There’s hope for the hopeless
And all those who’ve strayed
Come sit at the table
Come taste the grace
There’s rest for the weary
Rest that endures
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t cure

We’re All Here

Posted on September 15, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Romans 8:38-39, Acts 16:22-34

The first thing I want to prayerfully acknowledge this morning is that we are all entering this space from different places.
Some of you may be concerned about a family member or friend who you worry are having suicidal thoughts.
I know that some of us have lost a loved one to suicide.
And it is without a doubt that there are persons in this room who at one time or another have experienced a dark time and thought about suicide yourself…
No matter whether you have personal experience with this struggle or not, my hope and prayer is that we will all learn better how to share and offer hope and comfort to one another.

This morning as we reflect together on how we, as a faith community, can come alongside those who are considering suicide, I’m drawing heavily upon the work of Fe Anam Avis and Soul Shop. A couple of years ago, I had the opportunity to not only take their Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training, but also become a presenter for this program. Soul Shop was developed by the Pittsburgh Pastoral Institute to equip faith communities to minister to those impacted by suicidal desperation.
Notice I said “desperation” and not “depression.”
While sometimes suicide and depression are linked, that is not always the case. Not all people who are depressed have suicidal thoughts and not everyone who is suicidal is depressed.
Henry David Thoreau once wrote, “the great masses of men [and I would add women] lead lives of quiet desperation.”
There are many people in this world who are struggling just beneath the surface, invisible to the rest of us.
We might marvel at how wide their smiles are or how well they are handling the difficulties in their lives, not realizing that they feel overcome by the immensity of their situations.
And when they don’t feel like they can be honest about that desperation, they might become isolated, which leads even further down the path.
Fe Anam Avis reminded me that this is why suicide often comes as such a surprise to us. Too often, the depth of desperation in a person’s life is only visible after an irreversible tragedy.

When I was in college, one of my roommates attempted suicide.
She is and always has been a bright and bubbly person, full of energy and life. We noticed that she was a bit more sharp and stressed out, but we all were. It was college and life was full of anxiety and the drama of boyfriends and tests. We never sat down and had a real conversation about what was going on in our lives in that way… at least not until she had to be taken to the hospital and our whole friend group made the long drive in the middle of the night from Indianola to Des Moines.

I can remember feeling helpless and full of guilt and shame as I sat in the car that night.
Why didn’t I see it?
Why didn’t she tell me?
Why didn’t I ask?

The truth is, too often we feel unequipped to even begin to respond in the midst of our worry about loved ones.
But friends, we can move from a reality of others struggling with quiet desperation to one of honest conversation. We can create space right here at Immanuel, but also in the lives we live outside of this building, to be honest about the struggles in our life, for others to be honest with us, and together to and to know they are not alone.
In fact, one of the most difficult problems that people face in the midst of their quiet desperation is simply finding someone to talk to. Someone who will listen. Someone who will hear them. Someone who will be there.

And it starts with being able to talk about suicide.
I want to invite you to try something. I want to invite you to turn to the person next to you and use the word “suicide” in a sentence. Any sentence. Just practice saying the word.
Fe Anam Avis says that if you can say the word “suicide” in a sentence, you can save a life.

For too long, the church has largely been silent about this quiet desperation, instead of actually wrestling with the many different stories within our scriptures that relate to suicide.
We are quick to think of Judas, but that only further connects these kinds of thoughts with feelings of guilt, betrayal, and condemnation.
The very first thing I want to say about this is that our United Methodist position on suicide is very clear. “Suicide is not the way that a human life should end… a Christian perspective on suicide begins with an affirmation of faith that nothing, [not death or life, angels or rulers, or powers, things past or present…. NOTHING] including suicide, separates us from the love of God (Romans 8:38-39).

The reality is, our scriptures describe many instances where people struggle with suicidal desperation… Job, Elijah, Jonah, Jeremiah, Paul, and King Saul, just to name a few.
And there is a text in the Bible that describes a successful suicide intervention… a moment where a life was saved because someone was willing to talk about suicide.
Let’s turn to Acts 16 and explore that story together.
First, I want you to notice in Acts 16:24 that the jailor in this story was busy just going about his life doing his job. He received the order, put Paul and Silas in the cell, and locked them up. Fe Anam Avis calls him a First Day person – someone who may never have remotely considered suicide and was totally unprepared for how quickly life could change and desperation could show up.

But then something unexpected happens. An earthquake shakes the prison, the doors fly open and the shackles of the prisoners are broken.
In that moment, described in verse 27, the jailor finds himself in a dark night of desperation. In his case, this was a sudden change triggered by a life event. We sometimes see this with young people after a break-up or failure, but also among adults who have experienced a dramatic failure or loss or rejection.

But there is another part of this story. The community shows up and they too are desperate. They are concerned and worried for the life of this person in their midst. They notice. And they say something.
“Don’t harm yourself. We’re all here!” Paul cries out in verse 28.
In that moment, the jailor discovers he is not alone… and he chooses to live.

One of my colleagues, Heidi Carrington Heath, has written about her own experience with suicidal thoughts and what it meant when someone showed up in her life. (https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2017/11/9/second-day-people-suicide-and-faith)
“I was 18 the first time I was suicidal… I don’t remember reaching out to my best friend, but I did.
I remember that she appeared at my door in what felt like moments with another friend of ours. He crawled on the floor with me… and told me that I had two choices. He told me I could leave the room walking, or he could carry me out, but the option of sitting alone in that room with a box cutter in my hand wasn’t an option anymore. I haven’t seen either of them in years, but I literally owe both of them my life.
In that moment, I became a second day person. Second day people are people like me who live through the dark night of suicidal desperation to see the resurrection of the second day. “
She goes on to write,
“People suicide primarily for two reasons: a loss of hope, and a loss of social connection. And if the Church of Jesus Christ and our faith communities cannot do something about that, we should shut our doors. Building communities where no one loses hope, and no one is alone should be the heart of our work together.”

And so to that end, I want to share with you a simple acronym for how we, as people of faith, can show up to provide hope and connection with one another.
C.A.L.L.

First… we Commit.
We commit that if we are ever experiencing desperation and thoughts of suicide that we will reach out and find someone to talk to. I am someone you can talk with – but so are so many other people in this room.
If we make this commitment, we reduce our isolation and we don’t have to carry those burdens all by ourselves.

Next, we can Ask.
If you notice that someone around you is struggling, don’t be afraid to ask if they are thinking about suicide. They may not tell us. They may not want to admit it. But simply noticing their struggle and being to say the words, “That sounds like a lot. It is a lot to carry. Sometimes, people going through what you are going through begin to think about suicide. Do you ever think about suicide?”
Simply asking the question helps someone to know they are not alone. That you are there. That you care for them… deeply.

And once we ask, we have to Listen.
Listen for their story.
Listen for their struggle.
Let them tell you about what they are going through and be willing to sit with them through that.

But then, as in the story of Heidi… and also the jailer… the final thing we can do is Lead someone to safety.
You cannot change someone’s thoughts or their struggle or desperation, but you can help them get to a safe place where they can get the help they need.
Maybe you sit with them and make a phone call.
Maybe you remove an object of harm.

You are not a professional and you don’t have to be.
Just remember that you are called.
CALL: Commit, Ask, Listen, and Lead to safety.
The apostle Paul struggled with his own life in ministry in Philippians 1:19-25, which perhaps better equipped him to notice the desperation in the life of jailer who was right in front of him.
But as people of faith, we all are equipped with love, compassion and mercy. We are all equipped with love and grace. And we know that life is not easy and that desperation is a reality for all of us.
So friends, you, too, are called…. And we are here. We are here for one another. We are here for you.

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.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Lord of the Dance

Posted on August 26, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 2 Samuel 6:14-22

There was a stately, beautiful church on the corner of Main and Broad streets. The members were known for their love and care for one another.
On Easter Sunday, the pews were full of folks in their Sunday best, smiling graciously to one another and all of the guests who were among them. Everything was perfect.
Worship had begun, when all of a sudden a scruffy man in a faded shirt walked in. His jeans had holes in them and his sneakers were tattered. He looked around for a seat, but they were all taken.
Every eye followed him as he walked all the way to the front of the church, still looking for a place to sit.
Reaching the first pew and not finding a spot… or anyone who would make room, he sat down cross legged in the aisle.

Everybody was wondering who this was, but even more than that, they were wondering who was going to do something about it.
The organist began to play the opening hymn, but nobody was really listening.
Then, Mr. Sims, a stately older gentleman who had served as an usher for more than half a century, made his way from the back of the church down the aisle.
Somebody had to do something, after all.
Everyone watched as the old man bent down and said: “I just want to say how good it is to have you here.”
And Mr. Sims slowly lowered himself with great difficulty and sat down by the young visitor. He handed him a bulletin, and offered to share his hymnal.
They sat and worshiped together.

What does it really mean to fully worship God?
What does it mean to join in the dance of faith?
It is not about comfort or safety or the clothes you are wearing.
Worship is a risk.
It is a personal and corporate encounter with the divine and we are not in charge.
When we really place our lives before this God, we will not be the same.

Think of those two men in the story. Both took a risk in the presence of God.
The young man was a stranger, coming in off the street, and while everyone was dressed in their Sunday finest, he didn’t care what others thought.
He didn’t care if everyone else was watching.
He was coming to the Lord – and nothing was going to stop him.
The older gentleman had just as much, if not more to lose.
He was established and respected.
Everyone in that church expected him to ask the young man to move.
But Mr. Sims broke with convention and let the Spirit guide him to the front of the church to sit down with that young man.

In 1987, Susanna Clark and Richard Leigh’s song, “Come from the Heart,” included the lines –

“You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.”

The young man and Mr. Sims joined in the dance of faith and didn’t care if anyone was watching. They just put their heart into it.
And in our reading from 2 Samuel, David embraces that same heartfelt abandon leading the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem.
Let’s explore for moment the risk of this moment of worship and the courage it took for David to truly dance.
For years, the ark has been in the hands of the Philistines.
David wants to show that his rule is connected to the lordship, power, and presence of God so he has decided to go and recapture the ark and bring it to Jerusalem.
He gathers thirty thousand of his best men and they go and capture the ark from their enemies.
You might expect a solemn and formal military processional bringing this prized possession back to the Israelites. But King David led a celebration march and they praised God with all of their might with songs and instruments and drums.
In fact, the people were so caught up in their celebration an accident occurred.
Passing over rough terrain, one of the oxen stumbled and the ark nearly fell to the ground.
But a man named Uzzah instinctively reached out to grab onto the ark and lift it to safety.
Whew, we might think to ourselves… disaster averted.

But just the encounter Isaiah had in the temple which we discussed a few weeks ago, this moment reminds us of the holy, other, awesome power of God.
This ark was not a box holding some important documents – it was a sacred object that could bring both blessing and harm.
It was to be touched and handled only by those who had properly prepared, only by the Levites.
The young man was immediately struck dead.

In the middle of the road, in the middle of their journey, all of the celebrations stop.
David is so troubled by these occurrences, so angry at God for what has happened, he refuses to carry the ark the rest of the way to Jerusalem.
He is afraid of what will happen when God’s presence comes into his royal city.
You see, David isn’t perfect. He knows about the sin of his own life and fears for how God’s holy presence might alter the course of his reign.
So instead, he puts the ark in the safekeeping of a family in a village nearby.

David’s heartfelt abandon is closed off because of the fear of being burned, of being rejected, or being found unworthy.

Can you imagine how the story of our faith might have gone had Jesus been afraid to dance?
Sydney Carter’s famous hymn tells the story of Jesus Christ, without ever using his name.
The dance of creation and his birth in Bethlehem…
The call for Pharisees and fishermen to follow… and the refusal of many to join.
The holy people shame him for his acts of love and power.
He is arrested, abused, and killed…
And yet, not once did the dance stop.
And never has the Lord of the Dance stopped inviting us to join in.

There are a lot of people in this world… probably even here in this room… whose hearts are closed off.
People afraid to let God in.
People afraid to make a fool of themselves for God because of what others might think.
People ashamed of their past and whether they will be welcomed.
People who aren’t quite sure they can celebrate with all of their might before God.
Kate Huey writes,

“Jubilation is a word we rarely use, perhaps because such a feeling has been limited for many, for the most part, to sports and, perhaps, the occasional political victory. But what if we felt deep-down-in-our-hearts jubilation over what God is doing in our lives? Would we dance, too?”
Henry Brinton has compared worship… to a modern dance solo by Paul Taylor, the dancer/choreographer who “simply stood motionless on stage for four minutes….The dancing we do in church tends to be quite similar to Paul Taylor’s solo. What we do is nothing – we just stand still, hardly moving a muscle. Our worship of God involves our minds… our tongues, but rarely our whole bodies.”

What would it take to get our bodies more involved in worship?
What would give us the courage to let go and let the dance carry us along?
Maybe, we need to give up control.
Maybe we need to let the rhythm of the song shape and move us.
Maybe we need to let Christ lead.

In the book, The Soul of Tomorrow’s Church, Kent Ira Groff advocates for including rhythm instruments in every worship service. He notes composer Brian Wren’s understanding that “rhythm tries to move you bodily.”
No wonder that from forever and everywhere the drum has been an instrument of healing, reminiscent of the heartbeat of God – use in primal caves, rock bands, sophisticated symphonies. The pipe organ is a wonderful instrument… but in combining many instruments in one, it decreased the participation of the many…
Let me say that again… when we combined many instruments into one, we decreased the participation of the many.
You see, when we clap our hands, or tap our toes, or play along on other instruments, or use our own instrument, our voice, we are joining in the dance.
We are taking a risk.
We are offering ourselves.
We are participating is something bigger than ourselves.
We join the rest of creation and cry out with our whole being – the Lord is Good.

You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.

Just like we might be afraid to step beyond our comfort zones and truly praise God with our whole bodies…
just like we might be afraid to truly welcome into our midst those who don’t look anything like us…
just like we might be afraid of what will happen if we open ourselves up to God’s presence…
King David was afraid of what it meant to invite God into his city. He was afraid of what might happen to himself and his reign.
In many ways, he had a healthy understanding of the holy power and otherness of the Lord… but he let his fear overwhelm his ability to truly trust God.

But then he decided to try again. He worked up the courage to let God lead.
They took the ark out of the house and had moved just six steps down the road when David was so overwhelmed with joy and thanksgiving… with jubilation!… that he sacrificed a bull and a calf in praise to God.
And he took off his royal garments and there in front of all the people he danced before God with all of his might.
He shed his fear, he shed all of the expectations people had of him, he shed his denial of God’s holiness, and he worshiped and praised with heartfelt abandon.

As the dancing proceeded back to Jerusalem and as they got close to the city gates, David’s wife Michal saw him out there.
She saw him without his royal robes, dancing among the commoners.
She saw him making a fool of himself, rather than maintaining his composure.
And then, she confronted him about it.
But David replied, “I was celebrating before the Lord, who chose me… and I will celebrate before the Lord again! I may humiliate myself even more, and I may be humbled in my own eyes.”
He spoke with that same spirit Paul did when he said that we should be fools for Christ – laying it all out on the line to praise and honor the God who gives us life.
Michal, the scribes, the Pharisees, those people in the pews on Easter morning… they could get so caught up in tradition, on what was supposed to happen, in what was appropriate or required…
But as Jesus reminds us over and over again in the gospels, outward trappings are not important.
They don’t make us righteous or unrighteous, worthy or unworthy.
It is our hearts that matter.
What we give to God that matters.
Whether we leave behind ourselves and join in the dance.
So friends, wherever you are, whoever you are, let’s dance.
Amen.