Image – Page 14 – Salvaged Faith

Sing! Play! Summer! – My Lighthouse

Posted on August 18, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 14:22-33

For the last couple of weeks it has been so incredibly dry around here. It was such a blessing this morning to wake up around 5am with the sounds of thunder gentle rolling and raindrops hitting the earth.
You know… it was in a dark hour like that – during the fourth watch or sometime between three and six in the morning – that a storm is brewing out on the lake with a boatful of disciples hanging on for dear life.

The truth of the matter is, we are all a little bit like those disciples.
We are all here because at some point in our lives we responded to the call of Jesus and showed up.
And we got into the boat, knowing who was guiding the journey.
But we don’t always know where we are going.
In this particular instance, we are heading off to get ready for some new ministry adventure, but the truth is, there is all sorts of stuff going on outside of the boat… Jesus is no where to be seen… we think we might capsize or crash… we feel like we are barely keeping our heads above the water…

You might think I’m talking about some symbolic and imaginary boat.
You picture yourselves floating down the Raccoon River on a kayak or on a little john boat on Saylorville Lake.
But friends, I’m not talking about something imaginary!
We have all – literally – stepped into a boat this morning!

I’ve shared this fun little fact about churches with you before a few years ago, but a refresher is always good.
This part of the sanctuary where I am standing is called the “chancel”. In much older churches, there would have been a screen used to separate this altar area from the rest of the congregation. It created a separation between the people and the sacraments. Because our church is far more egalitarian, the communion railing is the closest thing we have to such a dividing line today.
This part of the sanctuary is the “nave.” The word comes from the Latin navis, which means boat or ship. While that is the technical name for this space in all churches, no matter what architectural style they might have, our church building utilizes a very special design.
Imagine you were building a large wooden boat… you’ve got the frame of it and the beams to hold it together…. Now flip it upside down and you will have something like our vaulted roof today!
So, yes, we are all hanging out here, in the boat we call church, hanging on for dear life, trying to figure out what comes next in the midst of a storm.

You know… sometimes I think that this passage of scripture is just about the storms of that moment, but the reality is, there has been pressure building on the disciples for some time.

If we go back twenty or thirty verses, there have been some trying times for the disciples lately:

Back in 13:54 – Jesus heads to his hometown and tries to do some ministry, but they reject his teaching. They don’t want to hear from this guy that they watched grow up among them. They start naming off his sisters and brothers and parents… who does this guy think he is?
Hmm… the people we know and love are less and less interested in what the church is doing. They’ve stopped coming or are more hostile towards religion. They are quick to point out the faults, rather than listen to what we’ve really been up to.
Sound familiar?

Then, as chapter 14 starts, we get the story of how John the Baptist – the very same one who kicked things off for Jesus and baptized him and started calling people to repentance. Well, he got arrested by King Herod and beheaded, and word had just reached Jesus and the disciples. John found himself in this position because he challenged the political establishment and the way they kept breaking the rules. He raised his prophetic voice and was killed for it.
Can you imagine the impact such news might have had upon this rag tag bunch of disciples?
Were they looking around, wondering if they would be next?
Our political climate here in the U.S. is very different from that of the disciples, because swirling all around us are people who are speaking out and challenging the political structure… from both ends of the theological spectrum.
But there is also a spirit of animosity and silencing that has a chilling effect. It feels like we have never been more divided and while we might not fear for our lives if we say something, we do fear rejection.
I also remember that King Herod was not just a political figure, but a religious one as well. He was appointed as a governor by the Romans over his own Jewish people. So this is also a faith conversation within the family.
And I can’t help but draw parallels between conflicts we are experiencing today in the United Methodist Church. In some places, the move towards inclusion is being challenged by more theologically conservative folks. In other places, including right here in Iowa, LGBTQ folks are being brought up on complaints and put on trial for challenging and breaking rules they believe are unjust.
Whether in Jesus’ time or today, when the air is charged like that, it makes it hard to figure out what to do or say next.

Well, you know what Jesus does as this tension and pressure is mounting?
He says: Goodness gracious friends – I need a break! And he tries to step away and center himself for a bit.
But who shows up there in that quiet, deserted place, but large crowds of people who are hungry to hear and see and touch and experience God’s grace.
So Jesus invites everyone to sit down and takes a meager offering of fish and loaves and turns them into a feast for thousands.
The disciples didn’t think it was possible. They couldn’t see the potential miracle all around them. But Jesus did… and he brought it into existence.

And we, as a church, experience that, too, don’t we?
In the wake of General Conference, we’ve all tried to take a collective breath and wait and see and pray for what comes next… but the reality is there is still work to do.
There are still hungry people around us and folks in the hospital and the precarious nature of life and death continues. We aren’t always sure what to do about it.
But then the Holy Spirit shows up and puts us to work.
Last week, we raised around $2100 and collected 490 items for the DMARC Food Pantry and we met some really great neighbors at the Benefit Concert.
You’ve been showing up for one another in the hospital through surgeries and illness.
We’ve come together as a community for funerals and shared loved and hospitality with people that we might not have known very well before we sat down to share stories and break bread.
Thank you, to so many of you, who have rolled up your sleeves, and shown up and gone the extra mile.
Ministries of healing and compassion and love had been growing all around us this summer by God’s grace, but it is also hard and exhausting work.

Then… and only then… does Matthew’s gospel put us on the boat.
Jesus sends the disciples on ahead to the other side of the lake and so they climb aboard.
But you know what? They don’t really know what’s waiting for them over there.
I think that the disciples, really wanted Jesus to come with them and so they tried as hard as they could to stay near the shore and wait for Jesus.
In the midst of all of the mounting pressure and tension and conflict… they don’t want to do this alone.
They don’t want to take a step in the wrong direction or land in the wrong spot.
They doubt themselves. They don’t want to fail.
And that’s when the storm hits.
And out there on those stormy waters, in that unfamiliar territory, they get overwhelmed by the chaos of it all.
They are so terrified and shaken that when Jesus walks out to them on the water and shows up in their midst, they don’t even recognize him.
Because why would Jesus be out there?
Out in those scary and unfamiliar waters?
They felt lost, confused, disoriented…
And Jesus shows up, because that is precisely when they… when we… need him the most.
In our Conspire service, we’ve been doing a number of songs by the band, Rend Collective. They are a group from Northern Ireland whose upbeat music grabs hold and lifts you out of your seat and a lot of their work, unlike a lot of other contemporary artists, is focused on creating space for people to sing together.
Our favorite song for this week is “My Lighthouse,” and they wrote this song thinking about the experience of those disciples out there on the troubled seas.
Gareth Gilkeson said, “we sing about the failures and doubting, and knowing that God doesn’t walk out on us.”
God doesn’t walk out on us.
Let me say that again… God doesn’t walk out on us.
Instead, Jesus walks right up to you.
He walks through the waves and the wind and gets in the boat with us.
The very light of the world draws close, leading us through our troubles, showing us how to love and take the next step, reminding us that we are not alone.

Yes, maybe things feel like they are building up and there is uncertainty and we don’t exactly know what tomorrow is going to bring. We might take some changes, like Peter stepping out of the boat, and we might fall flat on our face. We might struggle and doubt and feel like giving up, but here is what that song reminds us:
God isn’t going to let us go.
And just like Jesus reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand and pulls him back in, Jesus is reaching out for us.
When we hold on to that light…
When we hold on to that love…
When we hold on to those promises…
Christ will help us make it back to the shore.

We can have questions and doubts.
We might wrestle with what we are supposed to do next.
We might try something and fail.
We might be at a complete loss for words.
But friends, don’t let the storm completely overwhelm you.
Because there is a light already shining in the darkness ready to guide us to where we need to be.
We might not see it yet and we definitely might not be able to glimpse the shore… but its there. And if we keep turning to Jesus, he’ll lead us there.
Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Hymn of Promise / In the Garden

Posted on August 11, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 46:8-13

I’m just going to say it out loud…
these have been some difficult weeks we have shared together:
The loss and grief we have experienced…
The pain in the world in the wake of mass shootings and the crisis of migration and climate…
The sense of helplessness about being able to do anything to make it better…

When I find myself feeling discouraged, vulnerable, and down about the world, it is usually the church that helps me to feel better.
The people… the songs… the prayer… the time spent in the presence of God.
But as United Methodists these days, there is also a sense that the church itself is stuck. Broken. Falling apart. We are so busy arguing about who is right and what should be done that we are completely out of tune with the real, deep needs of the world.

But then I sat down and began to study a number of chapters from our lesson for this morning.
God called this prophet to speak a word of comfort and release to a community in exile:
“Speak compassionately to Jerusalem and proclaim that her compulsory service has ended.” (40:2)
“I am the Lord your God, who grasps your strong hand, who says to you, Don’t fear; I will help you.” (41:13)
“I, the Lord, will respond to them; I, the God of Israel, won’t abandon them.” (41:17)
“I announced, I saved, I proclaimed, not some stranger among you. You are my witnesses, says the Lord, and I am God.” (43:12)
“Look! I’m doing a new thing; now it springs up; don’t you recognize it? I’m making a way in the desert, paths in the wilderness.” (43:19)
“Listen to me, house of Jacob… who have been borne by me since pregnancy, whom I carried from the womb until you grow old. I am the one, and until you turn gray I will support you.” (46:3-4)

“Remember this and take courage; take it to heart, you rebels… I am God! There’s none like me who tells the end at the beginning… saying ‘My plan will stand; all that I decide I will do.’” (46:8-10)

God, through Isaiah, is not speaking to a bunch of people who have it all together.
This is not a message for the perfect or the righteous.
This good news isn’t offered to people who have never known pain or hardship or frustration or grief.
No… they are wallowing in it.
Their country has been destroyed. Their loved ones killed. Their very way of life has crumbled.
They are struggling to make sense of what it means to go on, to take the next step, to move forward when everything familiar has been taken away.

And the words they hear from their God… The words WE need to hear from God…
“this, too, shall pass.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Remember.”
“Look around for the gifts in the grief.”
“I’ve got you.”
“In the beginning is the end, in the end is the beginning.”

Do any of those words offer answers? No.
Do they make it better right now? No.
But they do remind us that we are not alone.
They remind us that human life and institutions are fragile… just like the grass that dries up and the flower that withers (Isaiah 40:8)… but that we have been and are and will be held by and sustained by a word and a promise and a plan and a power that has always been and always will be.
These words of comfort offer strength when we might collapse in despair.
They invite us to be present. To pay attention. To embrace the unknown.
To trust that this moment is not all of the story or the end of the story.

This summer, we have been exploring the favorite songs of Immanuel and today we have grouped together two hymns that sing aloud those truths: “Hymn of Promise” and “In the Garden.”

When Natalie Sleeth wrote, “Hymn of Promise,” she was inspired by a line from T.S. Eliot that “in our end is our beginning” and the way the world itself reawakens with every spring. What is the nature of life and death when we hold in our hearts the promise of resurrection?
This hymn is yet another of these great songs we have been sharing that was written by a United Methodist. Her husband was a UM pastor and taught homiletics at Perkins while she shared her love of music in a local church and began writing anthems and hymns. She is the composer who brings us “Joy in the Morning” and reminds us that songs rise from silence, darkness becomes light, and death gives way to the victory of life.
But what I appreciate the most about Sleeth’s work is that it doesn’t paper over our grief or our discomfort or pain with flowery words.
It dives right into them.
She acknowledges them.
And she creates room for us to embrace that even in that brokenness and apparent death the mystery of wholeness and life and peace that is on the horizon.

We need to hang on to that mystery of the unknown.
I’m reminded of the words of Matt Rawle, whose book, “What Makes a Hero?” we studied over Lent a couple of years back.
He talked about the reason why it was so difficult for people to embrace Jesus as their Savior because we want a magic wand. We want a superhero savior who “will just swoop in and fix [ our problems].” (p. 125)
But if that savior is headed towards the reality of death – there is no saving there for us.
The crowds of people drastically misunderstood how Jesus saves us.
The kingdom Jesus ushers in doesn’t start in some heaven far away, but right here and right now.
Like a mustard seed planted in a garden or yeast hidden in flour, the kingdom breaks forth out of what we thought was dead, buried, hidden away.
The kingdom is the power of new life rising out of death.
The kingdom says that in every end there is a new beginning.
Our God can take any and every broken and painful moment we experience and redeem them.
They don’t go away.
But they are transformed.

Even the death of Jesus unexpectedly brings something new out of what we thought was over and done with.
Not immediately… but with time and work and patience and not a little bit of grace and power and glory.
The mustard seed becomes a great tree.
The yeast causes the bread to rise.
In the bulb there is a flower.
The stone that sealed the tomb is rolled away.

Which takes us to that other beloved hymn of Immanuel – “In the Garden.”
I say it is beloved, but the truth is, there are probably just as many people who despise “In the Garden” as cherish it.
I remember working to plan Dorie Campbell’s funeral and as we were deciding on what songs to sing, we picked “In the Garden,” fully knowing that she would have been upset with us for doing so because she thought it was grammatically inaccurate. Others find it to be too overly personal and ever erotic.
C. Austin Miles wrote this hymn after a mediation upon the resurrection story in the gospel of John. The language he uses is personal and intimate and it draws upon a tradition of devotional poetry where one imagines themselves in the story itself, part of the scene, walking and talking with Jesus.
We are invited to step into the shoes of Mary… to enter that garden filled with grief and love… and to encounter the resurrected Christ and the joy of new life.
But we also can’t stay there.
You see, in the third verse of that hymn, we find ourselves with a dilemma.
Sometimes we want to stay at the tomb with the stone rolled away.
That one perfect moment of hope when everything had fallen apart.
It’s better. We tell ourselves.
I’m going to stay right here forever.

But we can’t stay at the empty tomb.
We need to listen to the voice of Christ calling us to go.
Go out into the world.
Go and tell others what we have experienced.
Go and share the good news.
Go and offer signs of life and hope.

Like the prophet Isaiah, in the midst of the grief and pain of the world, we can’t keep the hope and promise to ourselves. It is our duty to head back out there and offer it to everyone we meet.
“this, too, shall pass.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Remember.”
“Look around for the gifts in the grief.”
“I’ve got you.”
“In the beginning is the end, in the end is the beginning.”

Sing! Play! Summer! – Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty

Posted on July 14, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 6:1-8

“We keep a troubled vigil at the bedside of the world,” writes Howard Thurman, “Thus we clutch the moment of intimacy in worship when we become momentarily a part of a larger whole, a fleeting strength, which we pit against all the darkness and the dread of our times.

We don’t have to look too far to see darkness and dread hanging over our lives.
Illness and violence.
Poverty and oppression.
Impacts of the climate crisis.
Bullying in our schools and in our politics.
Grief and loss and discouragement.
These are the things that keep us up at night.

Thurman writes that “the moment of intimacy in worship” allows us to recharge our spiritual batteries and face once again the struggles of the world.

The moment of intimacy in worship.
The moment we personally encounter a holy, living, powerful God.
The moment when we become close to a God who is wholly other.

I think we often put God into a very small box.
Jesus is our friend and companion.
The Holy Spirit holds our hand and brings us comfort in tough times.
The Father tenderly calls us to do the right thing.
We imagine that God is just like us…
Or sometimes, that we are like God…

But the truth is, when we are facing a world of darkness and dread and problems that are just too big to tackle, we need an encounter with something… with someone… who is far beyond anything we can know or comprehend.

I am reminded of King Uzziah, whose story frames Isaiah’s encounter with the God from our scripture today.
King Uzziah was ruler over the southern kingdom of Judah and he came to be king at only 16 years of age. According to scripture (2 Kings 14:21, 15:1-7 and 2 Chronicles 26: 1-23) , he did what was right in the sight of God and had a powerful and successful reign over Judah for fifty-two years.
But all of the success God brought the nation went to King Uzziah’s head.
In the wake of military victories, Uzziah provided top of the line armor and weapons for his soldiers and fortified the city of Jerusalem with towers and archers and traps.
He was demonstrating his power, rather than trusting in God’s power.
His pride became such a problem that he entered the holiest place in the temple… that special room at the very center that only the high priest was allowed to enter, and he walked in like he owned the place and burned incense to the Lord.
Instantly, leprosy came upon Uzziah because of his prideful action and he was a leper until the day of his death.

Uzziah forgot that only God was holy.

But as his reign came to an end, Isaiah began to have visions.
He receives vision after vision of the failings of his nation, and the bloodshed and oppression his people have created when they relied upon their own might to solve their problems instead of relying upon God.

And in the year King Uzziah dies, Isaiah has an intimate encounter with the Lord.
A holy, living, powerful God.
Isaiah sees the Lord upon a throne, with just the hem of God’s robe filling the temple.
Winged creatures, seraphim flew about shouting to one another:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Heavenly Forces! All the earth is filled with God’s glory.” (Isaiah 6:3)
As the room shakes and fills with smoke, Isaiah fears for his very life: “Mourn for me; I’m ruined!”
He cries out acknowledging his own unholiness.
His own unworthiness.
The unrighteousness of his people and his nation.
God sees it all… and then this wholly other and almighty God draws close.
A glowing coal touches Isaiah’s lips.
His sin and guilt are gone.
And God sends Isaiah back out to face the darkness and dread of the world with a renewed sense of purpose and power.

This vision of the holiness of God also inspires the apostle John.
He writes the book of Revelation in a time of persecution and distress and the visions he receives bring comfort to those who are oppressed.
But again, John doesn’t encounter a God who is our friend or who is just like us…
When we are faced with true darkness and dread, we need a power that is far beyond our comprehension.
John has a vision, in Revelation chapter 4, in which a door is opened to heaven:
“I saw a throne in heaven, and someone was seated on the throne. The one seated there looked like jasper and carnelian and surrounding the throne was a rainbow that looked like an emerald. Twenty-four thrones, with twenty-four elders seated upon them, surrounded the throne… From the throne came lightning, voices, and thunder. In front of the throne were seven flaming torches, which are the seven spirits of God. Something like a glass sea, like crystal, was in front of the throne.
In the center, by the throne, were four living creatures encircling the throne. These creatures were covered with eyes on the front and on the back… [they had different faces and] each of the four living creates had six wings, and each was covered all around and on the inside with eyes. They never rest day or night, but keep on saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is coming.”
As we move to the next chapter, the Lamb appears, and then we think we might find a familiar imagine, but John’s vision describes it in this way:
“I saw a Lamb, standing as if it had been slain. It had seven horns and seven eyes, which are God’s seven spirits, sent out into the whole earth.”

The holy one is nothing like us.
Nothing like anything we experience upon this earth.
Nothing else is worthy of devotion.
Nothing else is perfect in power, in love, and in purity.
Nothing else could have created all things.
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.

These words from Isaiah chapter 6 and Revelation 4 inspired Reginald Heber when he sat down to write a hymn for Trinity Sunday.
He was a vicar in Anglican Church and had begun to put together a hymnal based around the church calendar. As he looked around for songs that spoke to the various times of the church year, he realized that he was lacking songs for that Sunday which emphasizes that doctrine of the Trinity. So, he wrote one himself.
Heber wanted to capture in this hymn the utter holiness of God in the midst of a world full of vices.
Stanton Nelson points out that the text “encourages the singer to join in an endless song” – a song sung by heavenly creatures stretching back as far as Isaiah and John and still being sung today.
Nelson also points out a few unique ways that Heber emphasizes God’s holiness.
First, if you look at the text, every line of the hymn rhymes with the word, “holy.”
Second, Heber doesn’t resort to any kind of “cheap emotionalism.” He allows us to sing of the Trinity without taking away from the mystery, the otherness of who God is.
As Heber writes, “though the darkness hide thee, though the eye of sinful man thy glory man not see.”

In a world of darkness and dread, we cannot always see the holiness of God.
But the act of worship, we can open ourselves up to an intimate encounter with God.
Do we recognize the awesome and holy and other power of God in our midst?
When Moses encountered this God in a burning bush, he was told to “come no closer! Remove your sandals for the place you are standing is holy ground!” He hid his face, afraid to even look at God. (Exodus 3:5-6)

Are we aware that there is risk involved whenever we are in God’s presence?
The book of 2 Samuel tells of how David and his select warriors went out to bring home the ark of the covenant after it had been stolen away. They brought hearts filled with praise, but when one man reached out and touched that holy vessel by accident, he died on the spot. (2 Samuel 6:15-16)

We hear these stories from the Hebrew scriptures, but too often today, we underestimate the power of truly being in the presence of God.
We are comfortable in our sanctuaries.
We sit in the same seats near friendly faces.
We watch our children play and share stories.
We sing hymns in the same way we have sung them a thousand times.
Worship has sometimes become so routine that we enter this place like King Uzziah… we come in as though we own it and like we deserve to be here.

I think sometimes, we have lost our sense of what it means to truly encounter a God that makes us uncomfortable.
A God that can shake the very foundations of this room.
A God that has the power to topple kingdoms.
A God that overcame the forces of death.
A God that heals and restores and creates a new.
A God that was is and is and is coming.
A God that is light and in whom there is no darkness at all.
A God that causes saints and cherubim and seraphim to throw off their crowns and fall on their knees.

This intimate moment that we call worship has nothing to do with instrumentation or the style or the music or what we are sitting on.
It has everything to do with personally and corporately encountering the One who has the power to change everything about our lives and the world we live in.
It is a moment not where we show God how great we are, but we offer ourselves, with all of our flaws and weaknesses, and let God transform us and use us to counter the darkness and dread of the world.
Only God is holy.
Only God is worthy.
And when we open ourselves up… even for just one moment… to connect and be drawn close to this God… we do find the strength to head back into this world with a renewed sense of purpose and power.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Amazing Grace

Posted on July 7, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Luke 15

I have a fantastic sense of direction.
If you drop me in a new place with a map, I can easily get my bearings and find my way.
When I think about it, I can’t remember a time that I have ever been lost… at least not while I was navigating!
I do lose things, however.
I misplace things all the time.
My attention slips for just a few minutes and I set something down and the next thing I know, it’s gone.
In fact, on graduation day at Simpson College, my family was helping me move out of the house. We packed everything up and loaded the boxes into my mom’s SUV and the plan was for me to follow behind with my brothers in my car.
My parents took off and all of us young folks helped my roommates finish packing and loading their cars.
We finished and went to head home ourselves, when I realized… I couldn’t find my keys.
They were nowhere to be found.
In a panic, we called my parents and they found them packed in the top of one of the boxes in their vehicle.
So I dropped my brothers off at the movie theater, while my boyfriend drove me halfway back to Cedar Rapids to meet my dad and the keys.
Believe it or not… that’s not the only time I’ve lost my keys while moving.
And, of course… I lost one of my monkeys this morning =) [reference to the children’s sermon]

Today, Luke’s gospel tells us the parables of the lost… the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son… the child who takes his inheritance and runs off, squanders it all and returns home.
A parable a short story that tells us a moral lesson… like the story of George Washington and the cherry tree. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not – the point is what we learn from it.
Luke groups these lost parables together, because he thinks it is key to who Jesus believes we are and how we are to live.
You see, at the beginning of this chapter, Jesus sat down for supper with some unsavory characters.
He was eating with tax collectors and sinners. Ooooo….
What? Does that not trouble you?
The idea that Jesus would sit down with a tax collector?
That’s probably because tax collectors today – while not our favorite people, are also not the unsavory villians of Jesus time.
But who might be?
What kind of people would we find it scandalous for Jesus to be having dinner with today?
What about drag queens?
Or Muslims?
White supremacists?
Or prostitutes?
Would any of those groups of folks make your feathers ruffle just a little bit?
Would you stop in your tracks and stare?
The Pharisees sure did.
They walked by the house where Jesus was having this grand old feast with a bunch of sinners and they started to whisper.
They started to grumble.
They started to complain… that fellow welcomes sinners!
And not only that – he eats with them!!!

And so loud enough so that they could hear – Jesus begins to tell these stories about the lost. About the shepherd that leaves behind the entire flock to seek out the one lost sheep.
The story about the woman who burns as much oil as a single coin was worth just to find a coin that was lost.

And when they found those lost things – Jesus said – there was great rejoicing…
In the same way God seeks the lost people of this world…
and God rejoices when they are found.
I may not know what it is like to be lost and not know my way home, but I do know what it is like to have lost something.
I know the desperation of seeking out that thing that I need – the thing that I love.
I know how important it is.
And so in some small way, I understand what it means for God to seek out those who are lost.
What is harder to understand is that I am someone who has been and who probably still is… lost.
We don’t like to acknowledge that we are sinners… that there are parts of our lives we still hold back from God.
We are fantastic at being being oblivious little sheep, wandering away from the flock and not realizing it.
Maybe it is a habit of telling lies, or the anger you harbor in your heart…
Maybe you like spending more time watching football than showing up to praise God…
Maybe you use and abuse the gifts of God’s creation…
Maybe pride has led you to believe you don’t need God’s help…
But whether we want to admit it or not, we are all sinners who have fallen short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:23)
It is an ugly fact about each and every single one of us.
We can pretend it’s not so – but, maybe, at the very least, we can take comfort in the fact that we are all sinners.
We are in this together.
We have all fallen short of the glory of God.
And God seeks each one of us out anyways…

Today’s hymn of the day was the second most favorite song of the people of Immanuel… Amazing Grace.
It was written in 1779 by John Newton and his story reminds us of that simple truth that we are all lost… we have all fallen short… but that doesn’t mean God has given up on us.
Newton was born in 1725 and was taken to sea by his father who was a sea-captain. He rebelled, he drank too much, he got into trouble, and before he knew it, he was forced to join the British navy. He tried to desert, but was caught and had his rank stripped away.
Eventually he found himself serving on a slave ship, and caused a big stink among the crew, so they left him in West Africa – basically giving him to an African princess who treated him as a slave.
His father began to wonder where he was and sent out a rescue mission.
On the ship back home, a storm tossed the boat to and fro and they seemed to be sinking…
In that dark place, from rock bottom, with nothing left to lose, Newton began to pray and the ship drifted to safety.
He marks this day, March 21, 1748, as the beginning of his Christian faith.
As Diane Severance notes, “Only God’s amazing grace could and would take a rude, profane, slave-trading sailor and transform him into a child of God.” (https://www.christianity.com/church/church-history/timeline/1701-1800/john-newton-discovered-amazing-grace-11630253.html)

Here is the thing, though.
Even after this moment, Newton wasn’t perfect.
He continued in his work as a slave-trader until the age of 39 when he eventually answered a call to ministry in 1764.
As part of his ministry, he began to write hymns, including Amazing Grace in 1779… a testimony of his own journey from wretchedness to salvation, from being lost to being found.
But it was not until 1788, thirty-four years after leaving the profession that Newton would renounce the slave trade and his role within it.
In 1788, he published a pamphlet, “Thoughts Upon the Slave Trade.” He became an advocate for the abolition of slavery and lived to see it end in Great Britian in 1807.

In many ways, Newton’s story reminds me of that lost son… the prodigal son… the one who is consumed by drunkenness and tries to make his own way and utterly fails.
Like the prodigal son, the love of the father rescues him and welcomes him home.
Amazing Grace speaks to this personal journey of salvation.

But I also think about the rest of his journey and how eventually Newton came to understand that every single person upon this planet is a precious child of God, worthy of love.
That God will not rest until every person is found….
The final verse of Amazing Grace is actually not attributed to Newton, but I think it represents that shift in his own life from the first person singular, to the first person plural.
From “I” to “we”

I am reminded of a story told by Rodger Nishioka who as a Presbyterian was working alongside some Russian Orthodox folks in an ecumenical project.
He made reference to the “Parable of the Lost Sheep” when someone interrupted him and asked him which parable he meant.
For a moment, I imagine Mr. Nishioka thought these Russian Orthodox folks didn’t know their bibles very well.
So, he summarized Luke’s parable about the shepherd looking for the one sheep that had gone missing from the flock of 100.
The Russian Orthodox priest looked at him and said, “Oh! You mean the Parable of the incomplete flock.”
In their tradition, God was concerned about the one sheep that went missing, because without that one sheep – the 100 would not be complete.
God wants to seek out and find all of God’s children and our family is only complete when all who are lost are found.
We are incomplete.
The family of God is incomplete when we leave out the tax collectors and sinners.
It is incomplete when we turn our backs on the drag queens and white supremacists.
We are not whole until our siblings who are Muslim or Jewish or Buddhist are welcomed.
We are lost if we cannot sit down with Jesus and the prostitutes.

As long as we diminish the worth of another person and hold them at a distance…
As long as we believe that others are unworthy, unfaithful, or uninterested…
As long as we act in hatred or anger towards our siblings…
As long as we are unwilling to sit down and share a meal God’s family is incomplete.

Like the woman with the lost coin…
Like the shepherd with the lost sheep…
Like the father whose son has gone missing…
God seeks out every single one of us until we are found.
Even me.
Even you.
Even them.
Thanks be to God.

Sing! Play! Summer! – The Old Rugged Cross

Posted on June 30, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 1 Corinthians 1:18-29

A young rabbi found a serious problem in his new congregation.
During the Friday service, half the congregation stood for the prayers and half remained seated, and each side insisted that theirs was the true tradition.
Nothing the rabbi said or did moved toward solving the impasse.
Finally, in desperation, the young rabbi sought out the synagogue’s 99-year-old founder. He met the old rabbi in the nursing home and poured out his troubles.
“So tell me,” he pleaded, “was it the tradition for the congregation to stand during the prayers?”
“No,” answered the old rabbi.
”Ah,” responded the younger man, “then it was the tradition to sit during the prayers?”
“No,” answered the old rabbi.
“Well,” the young rabbi responded, “what we have is complete chaos! Half the people stand and shout, and the other half sit and scream.”
“Ah,” said the old man, “that was the tradition.”

Like that Jewish congregation of sitters and standers, one of the things that I appreciate about the people of Immanuel is that no matter what differences you have, you still come together to worship and serve.
There have been winners and losers and conflict in our history.
There have been folks who got their way and those that didn’t,
people who stayed and people who left.
Sometimes conflict appeared over silly little things.
And sometimes conflict brought to the center of our attention real problems that needed to be addressed by our whole community.

One of the things I love about turning back to these letters from Paul to the first Christian communities is that they help us remember the struggles we face today are problems people of faith have been facing for thousands of years.
There may not be much comfort in that… but at least we have good company!

Paul begins his letter to the church in Corinth by praising God for all of the potential of this amazing congregation.
But then he reminds them of the one thing that is keeping them from realizing God’s will in their midst.
“In the name of Jesus,” Paul writes, “you must get along with each other! You must learn to be considerate of one another and cultivate a life in common.” (message paraphrase)
Paul looks at this church and sees people who are wrestling for the spotlight.
He sees people who think they are right and everyone else is wrong.
He sees people who really do want to be faithful, but are going about it the wrong way.
They think to be faithful, they have to be on the “right team.”
So they pick sides.
They follow Apollos or Cephas.
They throw their lot in with Paul.
Some of them even go around saying, “to heck with all this division… I’m just going to follow Jesus!” And in doing so, they only stoke the fires of competition even more… because, isn’t everyone trying to follow Jesus? Who among us gets to claim that name more than any other?

In the worldly realm of politics, we see this all the time.
There are winners and losers on every issue.
There is competition for money and time and we don’t care who gets run over in the process.
We don’t care who our words hurt or what we do to our nation in the process.

I think about the crisis happening on our nation’s southern border.
Global Ministries and the United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) have declared today a Sunday of Solidarity with the Suffering of our Children.
They call us to pay attention, to pray, and to respond out of the love of Christ.
We need to become more aware of the devastating conditions in Latin American countries that lead families to pick up everything and risk their lives for a better opportunity.
I think about how complicated our asylum process is and how misunderstood it is by U.S. citizens.
We wrestle with the tension between security and compassion, safety and welcome and long for a solution that isn’t an either/or.
The reality is, this isn’t an issue between Democrats and Republicans, because policies of family separation began under the Obama administration and have simply been continued and enforced under Trump.
This past week, when a government lawyer argued against providing toothbrushes to children, the reality is, she was in court because of a violation of the Flores Agreement under the previous president.
We get so caught up in slinging words at one another and picking sides, that we have closed our eyes to an immoral response to this humanitarian crisis for years.
We become trapped in a cycle of blame.
We are unwilling to examine the problems in our own corner of the political spectrum.
Every side thinks it has the answer and is unwilling to listen to those who are most impacted by the decisions being enacted.

When Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he was aware that this continuous practice of win/lose partisan behavior ends up exacting a high cost.
It is not the politicians or the intellectuals or even the biblical scholars who will save us.
We won’t find our solutions by picking a side and tearing the other down.
The only answer that will really and truly bring life is found in the way of the cross.
It is sacrifice.
It is humility.
It is weakness.
It is utter foolishness.
It is everything.

George Bennard was born in Ohio, but grew up in Iowa as the son of a tavern owner and coal miner.
He came to faith as a part of a Salvation Army ministry in his early twenties and became a Methodist evangelist, traveling throughout the Midwest.
One of his journeys took him to Michigan in 1912-13 to help lead a revival and he found himself heckled and ridiculed by some young people in attendance.
Bennard felt low, shamed, let the words of those young people start to get to him…
The world doesn’t always understand the way of the cross.
But he kept his eyes on Christ and began to study and write about his experience.
The words began to flow and before long, he sat with his guitar and finished the song.

The Old Rugged Cross is an emblem of suffering and shame.
It is despised by the world.
It is full of shame and reproach.
And yet… to that very cross we are called to cling.

Paul tells that Corinthian church trapped in their conflict between who is right and wrong that they are called to become fools.
They are called to be the laughing-stocks of their community.
They are called to lay down their weapons of division and look out instead to where God is showing up in the world:
In the weak.
In the lowly.
In those who are considered nothing.
The good news that points to Christ on the Cross seems like sheer foolishness to those hellbent on destruction, but for those on the way of salvation… it makes perfect sense. (paraphrase of the Message).
The cross is what unifies us.
The cross is our standard.
The cross of Christ, his life, death and resurrection, should be the focus of all our decisions.

Faced with any conflict, we should cling to that Old Rugged Cross.
We are called to love as Christ did… sacrificially.
We are called to go to the margins, to the outcast, to the forgotten.
We are called to die to self, to leave behind security and safety in order to be in radical solidarity with others.

I think about Scott Warren, a teacher from Arizona who was arrested for leaving water and sheltering migrants from Central America in 2017.
He broke the laws of our country and found himself in prison because he took seriously the call of Christ to clothe the naked and give drink to the thirsty.
In the midst of a nation pointing fingers and arguing about laws, we are called to find a way through the chaos of difference… and the only path is through the cross.
And sometimes that makes us look like fools by worldly standards.

When we cling to the Old Rugged Cross, we allow Christ to transform us.
We become the crucified and risen body of Christ in the world…
We go to those who suffer and suffer with them.
We enter the lives of the broken and the lost to bring healing and hope.
We share our love and compassion and mercy and in doing so, we share the good news of the salvation with the world.

It is in the weak and the lowly and those the world declares are nothing that we find Christ.
So let us join our hearts in prayer…

(adapted from a prayer offered by UMCOR)
God of All Children Everywhere,
Our hearts are bruised when we see children suffering alone.
Our hearts are torn when we are unable to help.
Our hearts are broken when we have some complicity in the matter.
For all the times we were too busy and shooed a curious child away, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we failed to get down on their level and look eye to eye with a child, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we did not share when we saw a hungry child somewhere in the world, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we thought about calling elected officials to demand change, but did not, forgive us, oh God.
For all the times we thought that caring for the children of this world was someone else’s responsibility, forgive us, oh God.
With Your grace, heal our hearts.
With Your grace, unite us in action.
With Your grace, repair our government and communities.
With Your grace, help us to find a way to welcome all children everywhere,
That they may know that Jesus loves them, Not just because “the Bible tells them so,”
But because we have shown them Your love in real and tangible ways,
And they know that nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate them from Your love.
May the cross of suffering and shame bring beauty and light and love and light to those who are the most in need of love.
And in loving them, in becoming fools for them, in denying ourselves and taking up Your cross, may we find life, too.
Amen.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Chainbreaker

Posted on June 16, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Isaiah 58:6-9, Psalm 107:10-16

For the first 20 or so years of my life, I understood salvation as one concrete idea: that Jesus died for my sin on the cross.
Substitutionary Atonement is what we call it. Jesus took our place. He was our substitute and paid the price for our sins so we could go to heaven.
But before too long, I discovered that I was terribly mistaken.
Not about Jesus dying for our sins.
But about thinking that was all salvation meant.

In its fullest sense, “Salvation is ‘God’s deliverance of those in a situation of need… resulting in their restoration to wholeness.’ It is restoration because salvation does not offer something new; it is God’s original intent for creation.” (Introduction, The Lord is Our Salvation)
The best word I can find to describe that original intent, the life that God intends for each of us is the word shalom.
It means completeness, wholeness, well-being.
And God’s work of salvation in Jesus Christ rescues us from whatever hell we might experience in our lives that has destroyed shalom, so we might experience life and life abundant once again.

Christ dying and paying the price for our sins is one piece of that work of salvation. But it isn’t the only one.
In fact, in the Western world, there are three major understandings of what the cross means, all different ways of talking about how Jesus saves us.
These are called atonement theories.
They describe how we become at-one again with God… how we are brought back into shalom… how we experience wholeness once again.
The first is the one most of us grew up being familiar with – a Forensic understanding of salvation. These theories say we are like a defendant on trial and have been found guilty of breaking our covenant with God. So, a penalty must be paid. Jesus knows we are guilty and out of love, pays the price for us. He satisfies the debt we owe.
The second is called Moral Example. This grouping of theories claims that the cross is the natural outcome of the life of Jesus, who spoke truth to power and dared to love those who society rejected. And in his life and death, Christ shows us how we should live, too.
The third of the major groupings is called “Christus Victor” – Christ as the Victor! This theory talks about an eternal battle between the forces of this world… good and evil, life and death, abundance and scarcity. We find ourselves trapped and imprisoned by sin and destruction, but Christ comes to set us free and restore us to wholeness.

In Psalm 107, this story of God’s redeeming love is told.
Some wandered away and found themselves lost and starving, but God rescued them from their trouble and led them back home.
Some were foolish and stumbled down a destructive path, but God rescued them from death itself and healed them.
Some set out to make their own way and their own pride became their cage, but God rescued them and brought them out of their distress to safety.
And some became prisoners, sitting in darkness, suffering in iron chains because they rebelled against God’s commands. But God rescued them and broke away their chains.

We were lost, but now are found.
We were trapped by addiction, but now we are free.
We were dragged down by our addiction, but we have been lifted up.
We were drowning in our fears, but we have been brought back to the shoreline.
We needed freedom and saving, but we’ve got a prison-shaking Savior.

For a couple of years now, we have been singing, Chainbreaker, in our contemporary worship service. Written by Zach Williams, it captures those redemptive stories of Psalm 107 and invites each of us to tell the story of how God has invited us into a better life.
Williams had been doing prison ministry through his church and wanted to speak to what God had been doing through the lives of the people he worked with… but his own life as well.
He had found himself for years walking a dead-end road and kept hearing a voice that said he wasn’t going to make it. That he was a failure. That he wasn’t good enough.
And to be honest, that is all of us. We are not good enough. We are trapped by our own mistakes and failures. We buy into the lies of this world that tell us we cannot fully claim our identity. We let our worries and our addictions and our pride bind us up like chains.

As we say in our prayer of confession before communion:
We confess that we have not loved God with our whole heart.
We have failed to be an obedient church.
We have not done God’s will.
We have broken the law.
We have rebelled against God’s love
We have not loved our neighbors.

We are those prisoners, suffering in iron chains, sitting in darkness.

But then comes the line we pray after we ask for forgiveness:
Free us for joyful obedience.
Free us for joyful obedience.
Free us.

Williams found himself trapped by that voice in his life that told him he wasn’t good enough… until Christ came along and set him free from the weight of the guilt and the chains that he was carrying around.
He found a liberating freedom and joy in surrendering his life to Christ.
But he also realized that this freedom was not a personal gift.
No, it was meant to be shared.
And there is great joy and life that is found when we in turn head back out into this world to set others free.

In Isaiah chapter 58, the people have been trying to please God in their own way, but the prophet reminds them of what God wants from them.
This is the kind of fasting that God has chosen:
“to break the chains of injustice,
get rid of exploitation in the workplace,
free the oppressed, cancel debts.
What [God is] interested in seeing you do is:
sharing your food with the hungry,
inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
being available to your own families.
Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once.”

This morning, we sent out volunteers from our church to be in mission in Memphis. As they make that long drive today, they are heading out to souls that are hungry and burdened and stuck.
Our friends and neighbors and family have the opportunity this week to tell their own stories of God’s saving love, but also help to break some chains themselves.

But you don’t have to go on a mission trip to joyfully obey God’s will.
Right here in Des Moines, you can help us tackle hunger with your food pantry donations.
You can work to honor the dignity of women and girls and speak out against human trafficking.
You can volunteer with local refugee support groups.
You can donate your funds to our annual Peace with Justice Sunday offering – which is used to help effect change in a broken world.
This offering is used to support ministries like a peace ministry on Arizona border communities and address civil rights violations in Liberia.
In North Georgia, it helped provide resources to help low-income students attend preschool.
Grants from this offering have supported the Alaska Innocence Project, that helps to exonerate wrongfully convicted individuals.

This is what God wants for us.
God wants to rescue us from the hell we experience in our lives.
Jesus wants to save us from our guilt and addiction, from our sin and temptation, from our fears and our failures.
And then the Holy Spirit empowers us to turn back around into our communities and neighborhoods so that we can help take away pain, make a way for the lost, and break the chains of all who need freedom.

The story of salvation… the story of how we are made at-one with God… is about far more than a personal debt being paid.
It is also the story of coming home… of finding our place… of being rescued from anything that holds us back so that we can be restored back into the abundant life of community God desires for us.
That better life that waits for us is not simply a heavenly destination beyond the grave…
There is a better life right here and right now, for all of us, because Christ has set us free.

Sing! Play! Summer! – Here I Am, Lord

Posted on June 2, 2019Leave a comment

Text: 1 Samuel 3: 1-11

Earlier this spring, we invited everyone at Immanuel to share with us some of your favorite hymns and songs. And this summer, we are going to highlight one of those pieces each week during our series: Sing! Play! Summer!
As the pace of activities slows down just a bit, we want to go back to those familiar songs that ground us in our faith.
We want to learn some new songs that will help us continue to grow in our faith.
And just as importantly, we want to have some fun and play and relax and let our spirits be re-energized by God and rest and recreation.
One of the pieces of our Sing! Play! Summer! Series is actually a six-week guide to summer fun and faith that we want to offer you and your families. It has some devotions, lists of related activities, new songs to learn, and ideas for making this the best summer ever!
You don’t have to do all six weeks in a row, but you could! Simply go at your own pace, enjoy this summer with your kids or grandkids or niblings or neighbors, and be sure to check out our church website for audio versions of the songs included!

Our very first song of the summer is actually the number one favorite song of the people of Immanuel: Here I Am, Lord!
This is also one of MY favorite songs and so we thought we’d kick off our summer series with the best of the lot 😊
Here I Am, Lord was written by Dan Schutte in 1981 and he based his work on two different call stories in scripture: Isaiah’s call in chapter 6 and Samuel’s call that we just heard a few minutes ago.
In fact, we were originally going to use the Isaiah story… but we are going to save that one for another Sunday coming up very soon!

The verses of the song remind us that the creator of everything in this world: the snow, the rain, the sea, the skies, the stars… this Creator God is not far removed from us, but hears every cry of God’s people. God feels our pain and weeps with love for us.
And God will not leave us in our despair and our sin, God actively works to save us! He provides bread, light, life itself… but… and most importantly… God does so through people like you and me.
Mr. Schutte comes out of the Jesuit tradition in the Catholic church and actually wrote this hymn for a mass for the ordination of Deacons in the church.
As he described the words of the chorus, he wanted to capture that sense that we as God’s people, aren’t always so sure about answering that call.
He writes: “In all those stories, all of those people God was calling to be prophets have expressed in one way or another their humanness or their self-doubt.”
So he adapted the sure-footed response from the mass to the words that perhaps we all find ourselves speaking:
Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?
Are you actually speaking… to me?

The chorus of this hymn takes us to that call that keeps coming again and again to the young boy Samuel in the middle of the night.
Samuel serves in the temple with the priest Eli and that night is charged with the duty of keeping the lamps burning until dawn in the part of the temple where the ark of the covenant was kept.
As we are reminded each winter when the peace light from Bethlehem comes through, it is not easy to keep a lamp burning over night. You worry the oil will go out or the wick will burn through.
So Samuel is sleeping there on his mat in the temple so that he can get up periodically and check on the lamp.
And there in the night… in the dark… God speaks to him.
We don’t know how old Samuel might be in this part of the story, a boy is all the scriptures say, but he has spent his entire life in the temple. His mother Hannah was barren and prayed with all her might for a child. When her prayer was answered she brought the child before God and left him in the care of Eli, the priest and Samuel grew up in the temple, serving the Lord.

But I think too often we focus on how Samuel heard his call and forget the details of what that call was TO.
You see, Eli had two sons: Hophni and Phinehas, and they were the worst pastor’s kids you have ever met.
When people came to offer sacrifices, some of the meat was always given to the priests for their service. But the boys wouldn’t wait until the sacrifice was over… but they would grab a chunk of the choicest meat right off the fire.
Today, it would be like if the pastor’s kid stopped the offering plates as they were being passed, took out the largest bills they could find for themselves, and then allowed everything to proceed. And they did it with threat of violence.
Not only that, but they also sexually harassed the women who served at the temple.
Samuel would have grown up, seeing the actions of these two young men, and likely would have been troubled in his heart by their example.
Maybe he even cried out himself, asking God to do something about it.
Well, God heard the cries of the people and God promised this injustice would end.
And God called Samuel in the night and gave him a vision of what he was supposed to do in response. Of the kind of leader he was supposed to become.

As a junior in college, I was convinced that I was going to be a meteorologist when I grew up. But I was also in leadership with the Religious Life Council at Simpson and had been involved in ministry through my local church. One afternoon, the chaplain called me into his office and invited me and a few other students to an event called, “Exploration.”
It was a conference for young people who felt like they were hearing a call to ministry – a place to explore what that meant for their lives.
I don’t remember much about that gathering, except for one worship service.
Bishop Minerva Carcaño was preaching… in fact, she might not have even been a bishop at that point… and before her message she read aloud for us the call story that Tony just shared with us in our scripture reading.
Bishop Carcaño is Latina and what I simply can’t get out of my mind is her calling out, over and over again through the scripture and her message that name in her gentle dialect:
“Samuel! Samuel!” (heard phonetically as Sam-well!)
Hearing her say that name in such a different dialect helped me to hear the entire passage in a new way. It was like it struck a new chord and snuck into every corner of my mind.
The entire drive home from that event, I thought about all of the people throughout my life who had been calling me into a certain type of ministry:
First it was my pastor, Bruce Ough, who is now a bishop of the church. He called me into his office after I gave the sermon for the youth sunrise service at my church and told me I was going to be a pastor someday.
Then it was my youth leader, Todd Rogers, who kept lifting me up into leadership and preparing me for a pastoral role, whether I wanted to accept it or not.
That voice of God had come through teachers and fellow students who had been gently encouraging me to consider starting down the path of pastoral ministry even as I ran in the other direction.
I realized that like Samuel, I thought I was simply hearing the voice of my pastor or my teacher.
I had never stopped to consider before that weekend that perhaps it wasn’t just a human voice after all….
Perhaps God was speaking to me and inviting me into a particular role in the world!

The reality is, God doesn’t just speak to people being called into professional ministry or to prophets from the Old Testament.
God speaks to all of us.
God is looking around at this world that you live and move and breathe in and God hears the cries of the people around us:
The fear and anger surrounding gun violence and mass shootings.
The reality of climate change and its impact upon our neighbors… especially farmers and those along rivers in the Midwest right now.
The impact not only of mental illness, but also desperation because of the lack of resources to respond.
The sense of isolation and abandonment experienced by LGBT youth who are turned away from their families.
The physical hunger of our neighbors young and old.
The crisis of desperation that leads some women to seek to have an abortion.
The stress upon the lives of our youngest people that impacts their ability to learn in a classroom.
The realities of addiction that lead so many to end up on the streets or in our prisons.
These are the cries that God hears. These are some of the people for whom God, out of great love is weeping.
And these are all places where I have seen and heard that you as people of Immanuel have heard God calling you to do something.
They are the things keeping you up at night…
Nudging at you…
Tugging at your heartstrings…

And friends… when God starts calling, God doesn’t stop!
I see so many of you answering God’s call through your work and your volunteer time.
You show up faithfully in classrooms and work with kids outside of school.
You are present with vulnerable and hurting folks at hospitals and in prisons and in shelters.
You are organizing with others to make an impact upon this world, to put your prayers into action.
You are present and reach out to that person who most needed to hear that they are loved by God.
I’m so proud of the way that you, the people of Immanuel, have already said,
“Here I am! I will go!”
I think it’s the reason that this song is the top of our list for our favorite songs to sing together.
But I also want to say… we all have fear and doubt and uncertainty about responding to God’s call. Every single one of us has asked that question,
Is it I, Lord?
Do you really mean me?
Why do you think I am capable of this?
if you are feeling that nudge, that calling to do something, and you don’t know quite what comes next… I have two things I want you to remember:
First: the advice from Eli to Samuel – Take it to the Lord. Pray and tell God that you are listening and you are ready to hear. Ask what God wants you to do.
But second: you aren’t in this alone. And just like Samuel had Eli, I’d love to sit down and chat with you and listen so that maybe I can help get you connect with other people who are already engaged in this work as you learn what it might means to say yes.

This Is Love: Friends of God

Posted on May 19, 2019Leave a comment

Text: John 15:9-17

On the last day of school in seventh or eighth grade, six friends walked home from school together. Some of us had known each other since kindergarten. Others came into our lives along the way.
But our friendship was forged in those awkward and complicated years of middle school. The drama of boyfriends. The stress of school work. The cattiness of who was in and who was out.
The six of us spent that afternoon on the last day of school planning an amazing summer and spent nearly an hour rearranging the first letters of our name to discover the perfect acronym for our little group: JSTACK. Jana, Stasia, Theresa, Anna, Cara, Katie.
Together we survived high school and more than a few relationship ups and downs. We thank God every time we get together that YouTube wasn’t invented yet, because we made the silliest videos on sleepovers and no one needs to see them. We celebrated one another’s successes even as we pushed each other on.
And now, more than twenty years later, we still try to get together on a regular basis. We have busy lives, our own relationships and professions and children… but we know that those five other individuals will always be someone that we can turn to. They might live halfway across the country… but they are also only a phone call or a text away.
When I am really struggling with something… they are the first people I turn to.

Have you had friends like that in your life?
People who have always been there for you?
The ones that you have walked through fire with and come out on the other side?

When the great theologian C.S. Lewis wrote about love, he turned back to the Greek words that all get subsumed in our one English word today. In doing so, he helps us to recapture the rich complexity of relationship.
One of the types of love that he lifts up is philia, or companionship. This kind of love usually revolves around some common interest or activity that draws individuals together for a common purpose.
Think back to high school. All of the groups and cliques that formed were a result of philia, some kind of shared love. There were the jocks and the band geeks, the popular crowd and the nerds. These relationships, whether we liked it or not, were to some extent exclusive. The jocks and the nerds rarely showed up at the same parties. The very nature of philia or being drawn together for a common purpose, it means that others who don’t share in your love will not be a part of the group.

And for the most part, that’s okay because we have multiple circles of friends: our golf buddies, and the people we play cards with; our co-workers.

Philia love, however, is deeper than mere camaraderie. When you and others share philia love, you are passionate about the things you do together. You can’t wait for your next opportunity to be with one another.

In romantic love, two people stand face-to-face, eyes on one another. But in philia love, you stand shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the world. You find your place alongside others and their strengths become your strengths. You urge one another on to accomplish something larger than yourself.

In this season of Eastertide, we have been exploring the depths and heights and breadth of the love of God.

Love that is stronger than death
Love that stewards life for future generations
Love that pours out amazing grace

Today, as we dive into this passage from the farewell address of Jesus in John’s gospel, we hear about the greatest love of all: to lay down your life for your friends.
In fact, we are commanded… we are charged… we are urged to embody with one another the kind of love that Jesus has shown us.
We are invited to abide in that love… to make our home and persevere in that love.
And when we do… Jesus calls us not servants, but friends.

For a couple of weeks now, I’ve been wrestling with this passage and what it means for us to be called a friend of God.
It is an honor reserved for very few within the scriptures…
Abraham is named as a friend of God in both James 2:23 and Isaiah 41:8.
David also seems to have this very special place in God’s heart.
Were they perfect people? No
But they embodied the same spirit that Jesus invites us to embody… a spirit of obedience.
As Jesus tells the disciples in “If you keep my commands, you abide in my love.”

Keeping commandments…
Obeying orders…
These sounds to me like things that a follower, a servant, or a slave might do.
And yet it is clearly in this context that Jesus says we are NOT servants.
What gives?

I think when we go back to our experiences of friendship in this world that we find a way to navigate this difficult passage.
Friends, after all, are those people with whom we have chosen to throw in our lot with.
They are the ones that we stand with – shoulder to shoulder – facing the world.
Our friends are the ones we walk alongside through triumphs and tragedy.
Our friends know us intimately… and we know them intimately in return.

This is the kind of relationship that Christ wants to have with us.
He wants us to throw in our lot with him, to abide in him, to give 100% of our lives to this cause.
He wants to stand side-by-side with us, shoulder-to-shoulder, working to build the kingdom.
He wants to help us navigate the ups and downs of life and believes that when we walk together, our joy might truly be complete.
He knows us intimately… and he wants us to know him fully…. Every plan, every detail, every reason and rationale.

In a relationship between a master and slave, you obey out of fear or out of duty. You obey because your life or your work or your livelihood depends on it. It is an entirely self-serving and self-interested kind of response. You don’t see the bigger picture, merely the next step in front of you.

But when we see the great love that God has for this world and we choose to abide in that love, our self-interest fades away.
We see the journey of redemption and new creation that God has initiated in Jesus Christ.
We find our joy and our hope in that vision of the Kingdom of God, where all people are invited to the table, where death is no more, where we are finally free from the power of sin.
We obey not out of fear, but because we have claimed that vision and made it our own.
We obey because we, too, want to share that love with others.
We are willing to set aside our own self-interest, move out of our comfort zones, and step forward, with Jesus at our side, to share love and hope and healing and life with others.

Christ has chosen you.
He picked you out of the crowd and declared – you are my friend.
And when we respond and stand by his side, abiding in, remaining in his love,
Then we truly are friends of God.