Image – Page 7 – Salvaged Faith

Shoulder to Shoulder

Posted on May 9, 2021Leave a comment

Text: John 15:9-15

Exactly one month before the pandemic began, I got away for a few days with some of my best friends in the world.

Stasia and I have been friends since Kindergarten.

Cara and I were assigned to the same table group in fourth grade.

Jana moved into town in seventh grade.

And somewhere in between, Anna and Theresa rounded out our small group.

We forged our friendship in those awkward and complicated years of middle school, where boyfriends changed all the time and school work increased and you never knew who was in and who was out.

But we fit together. We somehow found a way through high school and cheered one another on. We made mistakes and had fights and stayed up way too late making silly home videos.

When we all went our separate ways in college, we began to drift and build new lives…

To be honest, there have been times when there is little that we hold in common, but the bond that we forged is stronger than acquaintances that have come and gone.

Even after twenty-five years, we still try to get together at least once a year to catch up.

Throughout the pandemic, we’ve texted and called and been more connected than perhaps we have been in the last few years.

Somehow this time of isolation has also been a time to really touch base with your people.

The ones that you know will always be there.

Through thick and thin, and joys and struggles.

I know some of you have friends like that in your life.

Whether it is your sister or bible study partner or neighbor or your friend from elementary school.

People that are there for you no matter what and who make you a better person.

And people for whom you are willing to do the same.

As we continue this week to think about what it means to practice resurrection, we find ourselves once again in the farewell speech of Jesus in John’s gospel.

And if we didn’t get the message last week… or the week before that… or any of the other twelve times it shows up in the New Testament… here it is again:

“This is my commandment: love each other just as I have loved you.” (John 15:12)

This isn’t a suggestion or a recommendation.

The Word of God is standing before the disciples and giving them a new commandment.

A commandment on par with the greatest commandment – to love God with all of our heart and soul and mind and strength and to love our neighbor as ourselves.

This goes one step farther.

We are commanded to love others in the way Jesus has loved us.

And then Jesus goes on to tell us what that love looks like.

It looks like sharing your life with your friends… putting your life on the line for your people.

If we do this… we are his friends.

Now, I don’t know about you, but usually my friends don’t go around commanding me to do things.

When I hear the word “command” my mind goes to the word “obey.”

And I obey largely because someone or something has authority over me.

Because I recognize their power to speak truth and direction into my life.

But Jesus turns this idea upside down.

He rejects the idea that he is our master and we are slaves or servants.

Jesus calls us friends.

I think to understand this, we might need to go back and remember what it means to be a friend in the time of Jesus.

If we go back to the original Greek, Jesus uses the word philos to describe this kind of relationship.

It is rooted in philia, one of the four ancient Greek words for love, and the one usually referred to as “brotherly love.”

Think – Philadelphia.

When Aristotle wrote about philia, some three hundred years before Jesus was born, he described friendship as a kind of mutual affection between two parties.

But it goes beyond simply feelings; philia is wanting good for another person, for their sake and not your own. And, it is actively working, as far as you can, to help that good come into being. (Aristotle, Rhetoric)

That is deeper than mere camaraderie or getting together to watch a game or share a hobby.

C.S. Lewis, as he reflects upon these four types of love says that in romantic love, eros, 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 another and your strengths become their strengths. You urge one another on to accomplish something larger than yourself.

“To the Ancients,” he writes, “Friendship seemed the happiest and most fully human of all loves; the crown of life and the school of virtue. The modern world, in comparison, ignores it.”

We can all think of acquaintances and people that we hang out with… people we might call friends.

But it is far more difficult to name those people who stand by our side, shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the world.

The ones we choose to walk alongside through triumph and tragedy.

The people for whom we are willing to set aside our own needs for theirs.

People that know us intimately… all of our secrets, all of our warts, all of our dreams… and who we know intimately in return.

But this is the kind of relationship that Christ wants to have with us.

Jesus knows us inside and out… and he wants us to know him fully.

He wants us to throw in our lot with him, to abide in him, to give 100% of our lives to his 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, abiding in God’s love, our joy might truly be complete.

You see, like a philos, like a friend, Jesus was willing to lay down his own life for our ultimate good.

Not for his sake, but for ours.

In a relationship between a master and slave, the slave obeys out of fear or out of duty.

They obey because their life or work depends on it.

It is an entirely self-serving and self-interested kind of response, rather than focused on what is good for their master.

A slave is not able to see the bigger picture, merely the next step in front of them.

And a master always puts their own needs above those of their servants.

But we know the great love that God has for this world.

A self-giving, sacrificial, grace-filled love.

As people of the resurrection, we understand the journey of redemption and new creation that God has initiated in Jesus Christ.

We find our joy and our hope in 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.

So, when Jesus commands us to abide in his love and to love others in the same way…

To “unselfishly seek the best for one another,” as the Amplified Bible puts it…

we obey, we act, we do so not out of fear, but because we have claimed God’s vision and made it our own.

We love others because we have decided to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Jesus and put the good he seeks above our own life.

And we choose to work for the good of every person Jesus has put in our care.

To love others in the same way he has loved us.

How do we practice resurrection?

We love.

We love in ways that are embodied and deal with the real needs of real people.

We build relationships with people… the ones we know and the ones we don’t know yet.

We draw close to God and let God’s grace and love fill us up.

And then we give it all away.

We stand shoulder-to-shoulder with all of these people, knowing that our joy is found in their good.

We don’t have to wait for heaven.

We get to experience God’s resurrection life right here and right now.

And we do so every time we choose to love.

Like a Shepherd

Posted on April 25, 2021Leave a comment

Text: John 10: 11-18; 1 John 3:16-24

Last week in our time of worship we remembered that WE are EASTER people.

We are the living proof of the resurrection.

We are the body of Christ, alive, serving, sharing the good news with the world.

That’s all well and good…

But what does it actually look like to live it out?

What does it mean to practice resurrection in our daily lives?

Pastor Katie, you might be asking… what am I supposed to do?

In the assigned lectionary readings for this season after Easter, we go back and we remember how Jesus taught us to live.

And today, we find a very familiar piece of scripture…

Jesus proclaims, “I am the good shepherd.”

I am the one who lays down my life for you.

I know you…

I really know you…

And I am willing to give up my life to make sure that you are okay.

And not just you.

All of the sheep.

The ones right here…

And all of the ones out there, too.

These words are so comforting.

It is a reminder that my God will not abandon me.

That my Lord will not leave me in my struggle, but wants to lead me to still waters and green pastures.

In fact… there is this video that has been going around this week that I think perfectly exemplifies how the Good Shepherd loves us…

Let’s watch:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_4S5yBkSpU

How many of you are that sheep?

Just me?

No? Of course not… it’s all of us.

And no matter how many times we get stuck, or fall in the crack, or screw it all up, Jesus doesn’t abandon us.

Jesus, our good shepherd, was willing to go through the valley of the shadow of death in spite of our failures, and mistakes, and sins.

My Savior loves me so much that even his own life is put on the line for me.

Or as Debie Thomas reminds us, “As the Good Shepherd, Jesus loves the obstinate and the lost… he’s in it for the long haul, he not only frolics with lambs, but wrestles with wolves. He not only tends the wounds of his beloved rams and ewes; he buries them when their time comes.” (https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2990-a-shepherd-who-is-good)

Oh, what wondrous love is this.

As Christians and people of faith, we are so eager and ready to claim this message.

It feels good to be loved like that.

It is amazing to have this kind of assurance, right?

Someone else gave up everything so that I might be saved.

And our hearts are all warm and fuzzy and we are held in the hands of our God and everything is right with the world.

We read this story in the season after Easter not because it makes us feel good, but because it is a reminder of how we are now supposed to live.

How we are supposed to act.

How we are supposed to embody the power of the resurrection in the world today.

You see, if we are now the body of Christ, alive and present in the world, then we are called to carry on the love of The Good Shepherd.

Or as we read in 1 John 3:16-20:

This is how we know love: Jesus laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for our [siblings]. But if someone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but refuses to help – how can the love of God dwell in a person like that? Little children, let’s not love with words or speech but with action and truth.

Or as we’ll read next week from John 15:12:

This is my commandment: love each other just as I have loved you.

We are not supposed to simply rest in the arms of the Good Shepherd.

We are called to embody what it means to be a shepherd.

I think about Peter on the seashore, eating breakfast with Jesus after the resurrection.

Jesus told him to feed his sheep. To tend his sheep.

We are called to walk in the footsteps of the Good Shepherd.

We are commanded to love like Jesus loved.

What does that mean?

Well, let’s take this Good Shepherd scripture apart and see what it has to teach us.

First: we are called to relationship.

Jesus says throughout this parable, “I know my own sheep and they know me.”

The good shepherd is not a thief, or a stranger, or even a hired hand.

A thief seeks to harm others.

A stranger shows up and the sheep will scatter because they don’t know their voice.

And a hired hand, well, they are in it for the paycheck and the sheep don’t matter.

But the good shepherd has built a relationship with the flock.

And we are called to build relationships with the people around us.

We are called to get to know one another, to share our joys and concerns and life together.

As a church, we can do this through our prayers, but also through the times of fellowship and how we show up in one another’s lives.

One of the primary ways we do this at Immanuel is through some of our small group ministries… whether it is choir or a bible study or the mission trip.

Because the truth is, it takes time to get to know someone.

And when you get to spend time together each week or all at once on a trip, we learn an awful lot about what people are excited about, what is important to them, and how they struggle.

And all of those things then allow us to show up and stand beside one another and remind each other that they matter.

We care about what happens to them.

Second: we are called to look beyond this flock.

Jesus says that he has other sheep and I think that this is a call to look beyond our circles of friends and colleagues and loved ones.

It is a call to share the love of God far and wide.

We don’t get to determine who is in and who is out and who is worthy.

We are simply called to love.

We are called to recognize that every life we come into contact with matters.

Not because of how we benefit or gain from the relationship, but simply because they matter.

And goodness that’s hard to live out.

Because there are some people in this world who try our patience.

Who just can’t seem to get it together.

Who we have been willing to write off or diminish or ignore.

In fact… I want you to picture in your mind right now someone like that.

Someone that you have a hard time loving.

Do you see their face?

Okay… now I want to invite you to watch that video again, and I want you to imagine that they are the person stuck in that ditch.

We are called to love our enemies.

To pray for those who persecute us.

To forgive over and over and over again.

And to keep showing up in the lives of people who keep making mistakes… because they matter, too.

Finally: we are called to love sacrificially.

To lay down our lives for other people.

Sometimes that looks like giving from our own abundance and blessing to make sure the basic needs of others are met… like folks from Immanuel will do this afternoon as we reach out in love to our homeless neighbors through Joppa.

Sometimes it is standing up, protecting, and grieving with people around us who are vulnerable… like so many neighbors gathered together this week to stand at a vigil in support of the central Iowa Black community.

Sometimes it is setting aside our own desires or comfort to take on actions that benefit the common good… like we have all done by wearing masks and social distancing to flatten the curve.

And sometimes, we are called to give everything. In the line of duty, or service, or love, we put our lives at risk so that others might live. From law enforcement officers to hospital workers to missionaries who serve in dangerous places, and more…

We are not asked to love just when it is safe or easy, but in the midst of wolves and powers and forces beyond our control as well.

We are called to speak truth and work for change in the fierce and powerful spirit of love.

What does it mean to practice the resurrection?

It means to build relationships and make sure people know that they matter.

It means to stretch our love beyond those of our tribe so that all might know the good news.

And it means that we carry that love into situations that are broken and hurting and we show up with our full selves and work towards God’s promised future.

There is only on Good Shepherd… but as disciples of Christ, we are called to love like him more and more every single day.

May it be so. Amen.

Living Proof

Posted on April 18, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Luke 24:36b-48

Did the resurrection actually happen? I know what you are thinking… that’s an awfully strange question for a pastor to be asking. But I wasn’t there. You weren’t there. It happened a really long time ago. If someone asked me that question today, if I had proof that Jesus is alive, what could I show them?

Well, to be honest, I would show them you. We are an Easter people, aren’t we? Our lives are marked by the resurrection of Jesus, isn’t it? If the resurrection is real… if Jesus is alive… then it is our lives that bear witness to that truth.

Let’s back up a bit and explore what that means. In our gospel for today, Luke tells us about how the disciples first encountered the resurrected Jesus. In this version of the gospel, women had traveled to the tomb and the body of Jesus was gone. Instead, they encountered two messengers who told them that Jesus was alive. The women ran back and told the disciples who were mighty confused. Only Peter was willing to take their story seriously and when he went to look in the tomb for himself, he simply found a linen cloth.

Later that day, two followers of Jesus were walking along the road to Emmaus and Jesus showed up beside them! When they finally realized who it was, they ran back to Jerusalem, found the eleven remaining disciples and the rest of those gathered and told them that Jesus really, actually, truthfully, was alive. And bingo-bango… Jesus appears in the room. Without warning. Without doors opening.He just shows up.

Luke tells us that they thought they were seeing a ghost and Rev. Dr. Derek Weber (Discipleship Ministries) picks up on that idea… “They were haunted by him,” Weber writes. “by the idea of him, by the blood of him. They were terrified of their shame, of how they had abandoned him, of how they wouldn’t believe in what he had told them before or what the women said they saw.”

This idea that Jesus would simply appear. And be there. Right there. Standing before them. It was almost too much to comprehend.

And so, Jesus offers them living proof. He isn’t a spirit. He isn’t floating in the air. He’s real. Flesh and blood. Here are my hands, he says. Look at my feet. Touch them. This was about more than just seeing the marks from the resurrection still present on his body. It was also about grabbing on and feeling the blood and the life and the warmth coursing through him.

In our modern English translations, we might read “touch and see” here in verse 39, but Weber notes that in the Greek, the words are more of a command. He is telling all of them – Grab a hold of me! Ground yourselves in my reality. Hang on to it. Don’t just see, but behold! What you are going to touch and experience when you do will change your entire life. Or as Weber puts it: “Grab hold of the reality of Christ and see not just him but you, too. See your path, your future, your mission, and your reason for being.”

And then, to dispel ANY remaining doubts about whether or not he was really real, Jesus eats a piece of fish. Because, ghosts don’t eat, right? Things that are dead don’t eat. I am real. The resurrection is true. Everything I told you is actually happening. And then he goes on to remind them, once again, about what God wants not just for them, but for all people.

As we launch into the summer, we are going to follow the disciples as they travel to the ends of the earth with this message of transformation and life and abundance and hope. We will walk step by step through the ways they lived out the resurrection of Jesus in the world. So we aren’t going to dive into all of that today.

You see, first, we need to appreciate and understand and grab a hold of the truth of this moment. As Derek Weber writes, “the gospel, the life of faith has to be grounded in reality… If we don’t start here, if we don’t watch that piece of fish being eaten, if we don’t grab hold, we won’t see. And if we don’t see, then we are likely to turn our message into one of the hereafter, the sweet by and by and not the here and now.”

Think about it. If all that Jesus did was create a way for us to get to heaven… there would be no need for the resurrection. In his death, he could simply have cracked open the wall that separates heaven from earth enough for our disembodied souls to get in. He didn’t need to come back and walk and talk and eat fish to carry us into heaven when we died. He could have simply sent a messenger, or showed up as a spirit. And the message of the Christian faith would have been something like: everything will be better after we die.

To be honest, that is how I see a lot of Christians walking around and acting. That is the message that is often shared with people. This world doesn’t matter. These people don’t matter. Who cares what is going on in Myanmar or Minneapolis or on the Mexican border, because my faith is about what comes after this life.

Except, it’s not. That is not the truth of the Christian faith. Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians, if Jesus wasn’t raised from the dead then our preaching is useless and so is your faith. The good news is that the resurrection life transforms THIS world and not simply the next. It is born out in flesh and blood and love and community right here and right now. Our faith is an embodied faith. Our spiritual lives cannot be separated from our physical lives.

Debie Thomas reminds us in her essay this week that we have a Savior with a body like ours… a body that was nurtured in a womb and who hungers and weeps and gets angry at injustice and who was vulnerable to forces of violence and cruelty beyond his control. And we have a God who resurrects bodies, “The physical resurrection of Jesus is God’s definitive offering of both compassion and justice: all that has been taken, broken, mistreated, wronged, and forgotten, will be restored.”

This truth, this good news, this resurrection is so real that you can reach out and grab a hold of it! It begins right here and right now. It is experienced anytime we feed our neighbors who are hungry. Or advocate for justice in our neighborhood. We behold the resurrection when we cling to the hand of our elderly neighbor or sick friend. Or break bread with an enemy. It is the proclamation that lives matter. Bodies matter. Stories matter. What you are experiencing in this world matters and God wants to heal and restore and redeem anything that has broken or separated us.

As Jesus tells the disciples, huddled together in that room on the day after the resurrection: You are witnesses of these things. You are the proof. The living proof. You bear out the truth of the resurrection in everything you say and you do. Friends, we are Easter people. We are called to practice and embody the reality of the resurrection in all that we say and do.

So in these coming weeks, we, like the disciples, will go back to some of the teachings of Jesus and remember what exactly that means. We’ll practice what it means to listen… and to remain… and to love… With not just our minds… And not just for an hour on a Sunday…But with our whole lives. So that anyone who meets us will know – the resurrection is real and Jesus is alive among us. Amen.

Again & Again, the Sun Rises

Posted on April 4, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Mark 16: 1-8

Three women made their way to a lonely tomb just after sunrise…

Have you ever thought about a sunrise? Scientifically speaking, it happens every single day, at every single moment, somewhere across this globe. Our planet travels each year in an orbit that is 584 million miles in circumference, but every twenty four hours we make a full rotation, spinning at a pace of 1000 miles per hour. And every time we moment we complete that rotation, the sun appears again over the horizon.

The sun always rises. But we often sleep right through it. Or it is cloudy. Or our view is obstructed. Rarely do we experience or appreciate a sunrise in all of its glory.

I remember one visit with my family to the Hawaiian islands. We tried to catch the sunset every single day, but seeing the sunrise was almost impossible. Our location on the island meant that a chain of mountains obscured the view. So we rented a car overnight, got up while it was still dark, and made a 45 minute drive to a part of the island where we would be able to see the sun rise over the ocean… And it was cloudy.

But you know what? The sun still rose that morning. The sun rises every morning. Again and Again, the earth spins and the sun comes into view. Even if we can’t see it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how Mark tells the story of the resurrection. Three women made their way to a lonely tomb just after sunrise. There is no joy in this journey, only profound grief. Another morning is another reminder that their nightmare was real. Jesus was dead and it must have felt as if the earth had stopped spinning and the sun would never rise again. Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome could only face the day together.

Together they were journeying to the place where they laid his body. They were going to mourn. They were going to do what so many of us have not had the opportunity to do in this pandemic… to provide what they thought was a proper burial. Not the rushed and distant goodbye that came on Friday when Joseph of Arimathea placed his body in the tomb before sunset. But a real goodbye. Where they would touch and anoint his body with spices. Where they would weep and mourn and comfort one another.

As they neared the tomb, they began to wonder what on earth they were doing. Were the Romans who had crucified their teacher watching them? If they made it there safely, how would they roll back the stone on their own? But maybe even more than these immediate concerns, they had to be wondering… what’s next? Would they, could they, return to their old lives? With Jesus dead, none of the disciples seemed prepared to continue his work. For all the women knew, those men had scattered in the nights before… maybe never to return again. It all seemed to have ended on the cross. All their hopes. All their dreams. All the promises. It was finished. But despite their doubts and fears, they kept moving forward, step by step, clutching one another’s hands, until they came to the place where he had been laid.

What they find there is clouded… confusing… disorienting. Nothing was what they expected. The stone was gone. Inside, a young man sat on the cold, hard slab just inside the tomb. What was he doing there? And where was the body of Jesus? Where they in the right place? Were they hallucinating? The women huddled together, trembling, speechless…

And then the man spoke: “Don’t be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus, but he isn’t here! He has been raised just like he promised. Go – tell the disciples, especially Peter, that Jesus will meet you in Galilee.” In their grief, and confusion, and weariness, I’m not sure the women heard a single word the man said. Scripture tells us that overcome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb and said nothing… to anyone…

In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus never appears in his resurrected glory. There is no witnessing from the disciples. No sharing of the good news. In part, Mark ends his story this way because all along Mark has been leading us on a journey. Every time the disciples make a mistake and look like bumbling idiots, we learn something about who Jesus is. Every time they fail, we learn more about what it means to follow God. And when the women come to the tomb in their grief, we are invited to bring our grief as well.

And oh what grief we carry… The grief of not being inside our building…The grief of the meals and the celebrations we have missed… The unimaginable loss of life to the coronavirus, not simply the 2.7 million lives that are gone, but also the ones closest to you. We might not feel like shouting Alleluias in the wake of mass shootings or racial tension or the drowning of Iowa State students or the images from our border.

Debie Thomas reminded me in her words this week, “We’ve witnessed and/or sustained losses on a scale we’ve barely begun to register, much less to grieve. We’re weary, we’re numb, we’re bewildered, we’re sad.” (https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay)

And so like Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, we might hear the words of the young man who is sitting in the tomb… “Christ is risen” And in some part of our minds we might know that they are, as Thomas writes, “the most consequential words we’ve ever heard…” Christ is risen! But when we look at the world around us, how can this be true? Maybe it’s not possible to fully wrap our minds around what Thomas calls “God’s incomprensible work of redemption” as it “collides in real time with the broken bewilderment of our lives.”

But then I remember… even on a dark and stormy morning… the sun will rise. Even when our view is obscured… the sun will rise. Even when our eyes are closed or filled with tears… the sun will rise. Even when night has fallen in one part of the world… the sun is rising… always rising… somewhere in the world. Rev. T. Denise Anderson writes, “resurrection still came, even if they weren’t yet able to receive it… Again and again, the sun rises on a new day, often without embrace or acknowledgement. The same is true of resurrection. Whether or not we discern what’s happening, God is literally and figuratively turning the world around!”

Jesus is not cold and dead and lifeless in a tomb, but out there, loose in the world, ready to change everything. In her painting, Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity imagines “what the women see in the moment before they turn to flee from the tomb.” A horizon breaking open… The heavens blooming like a flower… Sacred darkness that lingers… A winding path illuminated with promise… The sun has risen…The Son of God has risen…

“The Promise” , Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity | A Sanctified Art | www.sanctifiedart.org

You know, there are times when the good news of the resurrection of Jesus seems as common to us as a sunrise. We sleep through it. We expect it. We take it for granted. We no longer marvel at the wonder or stand in awe at the miracle. And we say nothing to anyone about it… not out of fear, but complacency…

But there are other times… maybe like these times… when the good news of the resurrection is like a brilliant and miraculous sunrise that we aren’t able to see… and we simply have to trust it is there.

My friend, and the head of Discipleship Ministries for the United Methodist Church, Rev. Junius B. Dotson was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in January and died from the disease at the end of February. But in a devotion he wrote during that time he reminded us of Jeremiah’s hope in God’s promises from Lamentations: “We are sick at our very hearts and we can hardly see through our tears, but You, O Lord, are King forever… and You will rule to the end of time.” (Lamentations 5:17,19) Sometimes our eyes are filled with tears and the skies are filled with clouds and we can hardly see the promise. We can’t see the sun rising.

But the good news from the gospel of Mark is that whether or not we believe it. Whether or not we understand it. Even if we can’t see it. The tomb is empty. Death has been defeated. Jesus is alive. And this story is not over. Your story is not over. The Kingdom story is not over.

Again and again, the sun will rise.

Again & Again, We Draw on Courage

Posted on March 28, 2021Leave a comment

Text: John 12:1-19

Over these past few years, our church has become a sacred space for a group of folks who once called Myanmar home.

Their families came here to the United States seeking opportunity and possibility and escape from violence they found welcome not only in our city, but here in this building.

This week, at our Global Ministries meeting, I heard a report from National Justice for our Neighbors. This incredible United Methodist organization provides legal assistance for immigrants, asylum seekers and refugees from across the globe. In their clinics across the United States, they serve people from more than 122 countries.

One of the top five nations in 2020 served is Myanmar… largely because of the JFON clinic right here in Des Moines.

We’ve gotten to know these neighbors through Wednesday night suppers and VBS and third grade bible and by joining in with a few of their quarterly revivals.

Over the last few months, my heart has ached for these new friends of ours as word came about a coup in their homeland.

The seeds of democracy that were beginning to sprout have been hijacked by military forces that are determined to hang on to the power and position they enjoyed for over 70 years.

As protestors have risen up in the streets, the military junta has responded with force. Yesterday, 114 protestors were killed when the military switched to live ammo.

Now, the people of Myanmar find themselves living in a situation that feels oh so familiar, and yet so hard to comprehend.

I reached out a few weeks ago to Mu and asked how we can pray for her community here and back in Myanmar. Peace and stability are hard to come by, but she was grateful to know that they have our support.

As I thought of these friends and neighbors of ours and the experience of their homeland, I began to consider the reality of the people of Jerusalem at the time of Jesus.

It is easy to forget that Jerusalem and Israel were occupied by military might.

The Roman Empire ruled the land… not the Israelites.

And the Jewish leaders we read about on these pages of scripture only had as much authority as the Romans allowed them to have.

Step out of line or raise too much fuss and their positions could just as easily be taken away.

The longing for a Savior was not just a spiritual yearning.

It was political, too.

It was about God toppling over all of the systems and powers and authorities that were holding the people back.

It was about God’s promised future taking root and becoming real, not in some heavenly reality, but on earth, on that land, in that place.

In the gospels, we hear glimpses of this promise: “Thy will be done on earth.”

“God became flesh and lived among us.”

“ The Kingdom of Heaven is here.”

In the gospel of John in particular, which we have been following for a few weeks, the ministry of Jesus and the inbreaking of God’s reign is causing a lot of friction and tension.

Every step of the way, every sign, every teaching is creating conflict with the religious, political, and social establishments.

Upending the world as they knew it.

And all of this comes to a head in chapter 11 when Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.

Lazarus lives near Jerusalem and going there to heal… or to raise him… was itself a risky proposition.

But the love of Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb, knowing that it would cost his own life.

And then, knowing that people wanted to kill him…

Knowing that the powers of this world wanted to destroy his message…

Knowing that everything was on the line…

Jesus entered Jerusalem. Not quietly. Not undercover.

But drawing upon the strength of scripture and tradition and the community, he stages a kind of political theatre.

He uses Messianic imagery from the scriptures, riding on the colt, a sign of a King entering the city and he does it perhaps at the same time as the Roman governor, Pilate, would have been paraded into Jerusalem for the feast by another gate.

“Through the Palms” Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman | A Sanctified Art | www.sanctifiedart.org

It was a living, breathing protest against those in power.

In the same moment that hands were lifted in praise, others were lifted in shouts of accusation.

And those who showed up to line the streets and shout their, “Hosannas!” were doing so at their own risk.

In her piece, “Through the Palms,” Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman tries to capture this moment. You can see both the fingers pointing and the hands lifted.

In the midst of it all, Jesus pauses.

When we have a target on our back, sometimes we need to stop and steel ourselves.

We need to draw on courage.

Pittman writes about what Jesus must have been imagining as he closed his eyes and stroked the donkey’s hair… the anguish of Mary and Martha, the fragrance of the burial perfume, the judging glare of Judas… reminders of what these steps into Jerusalem would entail… death and resistance and misunderstanding.

Pittman offers this image, “as a reminder to call upon God for the courage you need to rest and recharge for the work ahead. But I hope it also heartens you to move forward in courage, even in the midst of great resistance.”

The very word, courage, comes from the Latin word for heart.

“Courage is deep within us;” Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity writes, “drawing on courage is both internal and external. We often find it when we most need it, when everything else has been stripped away.”

When we draw upon God, upon our traditions, upon one another, we find the strength we need to “take heart” and keep going.

There is so much in our world today that calls for courageous action.

Whether it is standing up to white supremacy, or challenging injustice in institutions, or advocating for the vulnerable in the halls of congress…

Or more ordinary, every day things like challenging a bully in your life or speaking up for yourself…

Whether it is finding the courage to address your own mental health, or to search for a new job that brings you life and allows you to use your gifts…

When we catch a glimpse of how things could be, sometimes we need to be still and recharge our spirits and connect with that well of strength in our own hearts to step forward and act.

Like faithful servants and prophets and disciples before us, we draw on courage to move towards the vision of who and what God desires this world to become.

And often, when we tap into that courage we find creative ways of resisting and challenging the world as it is.

Like the men and women and children that lined the streets on Palm Sunday to wave branches and shout hosannas and to call out for a new king to come and save us… even if it meant speaking out against forces that could kill them.

Or the ways that everyday folks in Myanmar are living out this kind of courageous Palm Sunday protest against the military forces oppressing the democratic spirit.

Even in the midst of deadly response from the military junta, they are taking to the streets to resist. The images shared here are from Frontier Myanmar, a community of independent journalists in the country.

The theologian and poet, Maren Tirabassi, captured the courageous spirit of their protest in her poem, “Hope is a bag of onions”

Hope is a bag of onions
I am praying for Myanmar and I am crying,
then I open my Australian newspaper
and an article by “Anonymous”
tells me about new creative protest.

Some is by Generation Z surely,
those who do not remember
the horrific violence of 1988 or 2007,
but know they do not want
the coup to succeed.
The generation of “pop up” and “work around,”
is joined also by many others.

Every night is the “metal bucket protest,”
fifteen minutes of banging pots and pans.
Too short to pinpoint the homes,
and too traditional,
after all, it is
the way to drive out evil spirits.

Ten cars stop in the road, open their hoods,
tell police they’ve broken down –
traffic grinds to a halt.
A bride in a wedding dress
holds a sign telling the world
she doesn’t want her babies
to grow up under martial law.

And students cross the streets
with bags of onions,
except there are holes in them.
Cars stop,
while they pick up and bag again,
pick up and bag again –
onions, the same ones,
over and over again.

I am praying for Myanmar
in the midst of this terrible coup,
and my heart fills
with their tremendous courage –
today these onions do not make me cry.

I am praying daily for the people of Myanmar and for our neighbors here…

and I hope you will join me.

And I hope that we might all draw on the courage of Christ as we live out our faith in this world, that we might stand up for the vulnerable, and speak out against things that would destroy, and together build a world that looks more and more like the reign of God every single day.

Again & Again, God Loves First

Posted on March 14, 20211 Comment

Text: John 3:14-21

One of my favorite books is “Hope for the Flowers.”

It tells the story of a little caterpillar named Stripe who is looking for something… he just isn’t sure what it is.

He just knows, deep within, that there is something more out there.

One day, he comes across this mound… this heap… this mountain of other caterpillars, all climbing on top of one another trying to get as high as they possibly can.

There are rumors of something wonderful at the top of the pile.

So Stripe joins them. He wants to see and understand and know what is up there, even though he has no idea what it is.

Along the way, he makes some terrible choices. He hurts others. He pushes them out of the way.

He has to stop looking other caterpillars in their eyes so he doesn’t feel so bad about what he is doing.

He was looking for life among things that were sucking the life right out of him.

The story reminds me of my good friend, John.

For years, he worked in the corporate world and successfully built his own company.

He climbed to the top, seeking success and power and telling himself when he got to the top, he could finally enjoy life.

But when he got there, he still had this longing that he just couldn’t fulfill and he couldn’t be sure that anything he had done was worth it.

It also reminds me of Nicodemus.

He was part of the ruling class in Jerusalem and had done everything right.

He was the epitome of power and privilege.

And yet, deep within, he knew that there was something he was missing… a longing he couldn’t quite put his finger on. An empty space in his soul and answers he couldn’t grasp.

Have you ever felt like that?

Have you ever been stumbling your way through life, doing what you thought you were supposed to be doing, and woke up and wondered… what am I missing?

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul writes that we all do this.

It is the life of sin.

“[we] let the world, which doesn’t know the first thing about living, tell [us] how to live. [We] fill our lungs with polluted unbelief, and then exhale disobedience. We all did it… all of us in the same boat. It’s a wonder God didn’t lose God’s temper and do away with the whole lot of us… “ (Ephesians 2:1-6 MSG, selected)

Actually, pause here for a moment, because if we remember from the first Sunday of Lent, God sure does have the capacity to wipe away humanity and start from scratch…

Only God has chosen not to do it.

God set the bow in the clouds as a reminder of the promise to keep meeting us where we are.

Paul goes on to say, “instead, immense in mercy and with an incredible love, God embraced us. God took our sin-dead lives and made us alive in Christ…. with no help from us!” (Ephesians 2:1-6 MSG, selected)

It is an echo of those words of Christ we read in the gospel this morning.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” (John 3:16, NRSV)

Salvation, life, wholeness… this is what God wants for us.

This is God’s gift to us.

This is God’s plan for our lives.

Our God wants nothing more than to hold us in love and grace and mercy, like we might hold a newborn infant.

Before we can understand it…

Before we deserve it…

God loves first.

In our United Methodist tradition, it is what we call prevenient grace.

From the latin: pre-venient, “before” “to go”

God’s grace, God’s love, comes first.

This week, I learned about some experiments done in the 1970’s by Dr. Benjamin Libet. He was a neuroscientist who wanted to understand what was happening in our brains as we make decisions.

We think that we make a decision… say to flex our fingers… then, our brain initiates the electrical impulses, and then our muscles respond, right?

What he actually discovered is that before we consciously make a decision to do something, our brain has already started the process!

FIRST our brain activity begins.

THEN we make a decision.

Finally, our body responds and our fingers flex.

So, it kind of seems like our decision wasn’t actually the CAUSE of the action.

But he kept working and discovered that we CAN consciously make a decision to stop an action that our brain has already initiated.

He asked people to resist the urge to flex their fingers as soon as they become aware of it.

When we become aware of an urge to act, we can choose to stop.

Libet called this ‘free won’t.”

We can’t choose to DO something… but we can choose to stop.

What does this have to do with grace?

Well, let’s change the outcome we are seeking.

Instead of trying to flex our fingers, what if we are trying to be saved?

Scripture tells us over and over again that there is nothing we can do to earn God’s grace.

There is nothing we can do get salvation for ourselves.

No matter how much we want it, or strive for it, or choose it.

And that is because our conscious decision to love God is like our conscious decision to wiggle our fingers… it is always secondary.

What comes first is God’s love.

God’s prevenient grace.

The very way that God built us for relationship and salvation.

God laid the foundation and the groundwork for us to receive salvation before we could even conceive of the idea to love God back.

We love… because God loves first.

Now… we can consciously reject that love.

We can resist it.

We can try to do our own thing.

Like my friend John… or Stripe the caterpillar… or Nicodemus…

But God’s love and grace is always there, sending out signals and nudges and glimpses of the possibility that awaits us if we stop resisting.

In the book, “Hope for the Flowers,” one day Stripe sees something that makes his heart stop.

He catches a glimpse, a possibility of something he can’t quite comprehend. He sees a butterfly.

He stops climbing, curls up on a branch, and builds a cocoon.

He doesn’t know how he knows to do it, but he does.

That’s what happened to my friend, John.

One Sunday, the Holy Spirit showed up at church and he caught a glimpse of another life that was possible for him.

He went home and put his business up for sale and enrolled in seminary.

John had no clue what was waiting for him, except that everything was about to change.

And Nicodemus?

He may have come to Jesus in the middle of the night, unsure of those nudges with his soul and afraid of what others might think.

But, he, too, is forever changed by the grace of God.

The next time Nicodemus appears in the gospel of John, he has stepped into public view after the crucifixion to ask for the body of Jesus.

It is when Jesus is lifted up on the cross that he fully understands the life that God intended for him.

God loves first.

God holds us and shows us what life, real life, is all about.

And that longing deep within us…?

We want to hold God back.

We want to curl our tiny fingers around God’s and cling to what is possible.

We can get ourselves distracted.

We can resist.

We can say we don’t deserve it because of the things we have done.

But none of that changes the fact that we are held.

That we have always been held.

And that if we just let go of trying to do it all ourselves…

If we stopped saying no…

We would discover that God has already given us the life of salvation we long for.

Amen.

Again & Again, God Shows the Way

Posted on March 7, 2021Leave a comment

Text: John 2:13-22

From the beginning of time, God has been trying to show us the way.

The way to abundant life.

The way to shalom.

We catch a glimpse of how God wants us to live in the laws of Scripture, which Bible scholar, Walter Bruggemann describes as “God’s full intention for the life of creation.”

But again and again, that intention is distorted in our lives.

Many years ago, our family visited Arnold’s Park at Lake Okoboji.

One of the highlights was the tilted house. Walking sideways on crooked steps and the ceilings seem to shrink above you feels odd and disconcerting.

We all know what a house should look like and feel like, and this was not it.

From there, my neice dragged me to the house of mirrors.

As we stood in front of skinny mirrors and fat mirrors and wavy mirrors, she giggled and pointed as we were transformed into creatures we didn’t recognize.

One minute I had mile-long legs and the next a neck as long as a giraffe.

We laughed and told stories about what it would be like to live with really tall tummies and itty-bitty heads.

I have to admit, I found the sight less amusing that she did.

The distortions brought what I perceived to be my flaws into greater focus and blew them out of proportion… or reduced my favorite feature into something grotesque.

We’ve been talking a lot about reality for the last few weeks… and how we come to know what is true about ourselves and our faith.

Sometimes, we don’t realize that we have been looking at ourselves through funhouse mirrors.

We think we know what is true and real about ourselves and our communities.

But perhaps, we have simply been living for too long in a tilted house full of funhouse mirrors.

We have grown familiar and comfortable with the distortion.

So when God shows us a more excellent way, it can feel like our world gets turned upside down and inside out.

So often, Jesus is portrayed as a gentle soul who walks alongside us and listens to our thoughts.

Yet how often does he do the unexpected?

He shows up in places he shouldn’t, loves the unloveable, calls the unworthy and brings us life through his death.

Instead of allowing us to stay comfortably where we are, the Christ we meet in the scriptures challenges everything we know.

In our reading this morning from John, Jesus is in Jerusalem for the annual Passover festival.

Those making the long trip would not have brought the animals required for sacrifice with them, but the streets and Temple would have been packed with vendors offering animals for sale.

Others exchanged currency so that titles and offerings could be made in coinage that did not bear a human image, like the Greek and Roman coins did.

This was the normal, expected way of doing things.

This was routine life in the Temple, especially around the holy days.

Without these vendors, the system just didn’t work.

This structure, with its rules and order, vendors and priests, were all part of how an individual made a connection with the presence of God.

You jumped through the hoops because that was the system.

But as God reaches out to show us another way, some of those systems needed to change.

God wanted to take up residence not within the curtains of the inner sanctuary of a building, but to lay aside glory and be born among us.

This is the moment, for John, when the new understanding of the Temple is born.

overturn
by lisle gwynn garrity
inspired by john 2:13-22
sanctifiedart.org

Jesus begins flipping over tables.

He disrupts the system.

He takes everything we knew and turned it upside down and inside out.

It is chaos and disorder and it will take days for the Temple to get up and running again.

All eyes turn to Jesus and the religious leaders cry out, “By what authority are you doing these things?”

“Who on earth do you think you are?”

They need something to make sense of what has just happened and why everything is in disarray.

Jesus responds by pointing to his own body, the very dwelling place of God.

This story is not about the moneychangers or the Temple… but about Jesus.

It is a caution against any institutional systems and structures that have distorted and twisted our ability to see what God is doing in our midst.

More than once in the history of faith, the Holy Spirit has moved in our churches and turned over some tables and the church failed to respond because of rules and traditions.

A new opportunity for ministry gets snuffed out by people who don’t catch the vision.

A church gets so wrapped up in what color their carpet is that they can’t see the neighbors in need outside their door.

Someone experiences a call to follow Jesus, but the book of rules says that it just can’t be possible.

From the inclusion of women in ministry, to the welcoming of immigrant communities of faith, to the questions we are wrestling with today over whether we will embrace LGBTQ+ people in the life of the church… I have seen time and time again that our systems and our rules and our traditional ways of doing things can get in the way of the very presence of God in our midst.

I love the United Methodist Church… most days…

But as Jesus turns over the tables in the Temple this week, I can’t help but think about the systems that we have put in place that keep us from the real ministry of Christ in this world.

This week, we announced the necessary postponement of our 2020 General Conference to the fall of 2022. With it comes a virtual meeting in May, to approve suspending our rules, so that we can vote by mail on twelve items to keep the institution functioning.

A friend and colleague, Rev. Andy Bryan put it this way:

“I am part of a denomination that needs to set a meeting to suspend our rules so that we can create new rules to dictate what we are supposed to do when we cannot meet to create rules.”

From unnecessary paperwork, inflexible constitutions, timelines that are out of sync with the world, and standards for ministry that deny the way the Holy Spirit moves in the lives of people… if we could flip some tables and transform some systems to better support ministry, we all would benefit.

A lot of us are asking hard questions about what it really means to be the church and do the ministry of Jesus.

For too long, we made a home in a system that felt comfortable… for us.

But the walls were crooked and the mirrors have been distorting who we thought we were.

We are coming to terms with how our institution has supported racist policies and colonial attitudes and are seeing the Holy Spirit move from the margins and tear down walls and chains that have been keeping us from the way of Jesus.

God, after all, does not dwell in the boxes we have created or the books we have written.

God desires more than rituals and rules.

And in our scripture for this morning, we see that lived out… for even with the Temple disrupted, people found a way to celebrate Passover.

They found ways to praise God and remember their history.

It wasn’t the building or the specific rituals that were important… but their relationship with the God who came and dwelt among them and led them out of oppression… the one who showed them what it means to truly live.

A drawing of a bird

Description automatically generated with medium confidence

The Akan people of Ghana have a concept called Sankofa…

San… ko… fa…

In their language it means to go back and take what you need to go forward.

They represent this idea with the image of a bird, reaching back to take an egg from its back.

When we realize that we’ve been living in tilted houses and looking into funhouse mirrors, sometimes the best way to move forward is to go back and remember who we are.

To remember our call to love God and to love our neighbor.

To remember the plan for God’s shalom and the foundation of our life together in the commandments.

To remember that God has already shown us what is good: to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.

This year, our lives have been turned upside down and inside out.

But in so many ways, we, too, have had the opportunity to embrace the idea of Sankofa.

We’ve returned to the basics of our family life.

We’ve spent time reaching out in love and care to one another.

We’ve remembered that God doesn’t just live inside the sanctuary here at Immanuel, but is present in our homes and our work, too.

We’ve embraced generosity towards our neighbors.

As the tables of our lives… and our church… have been turned over this year… I’m grateful for how God’s love has shown the way.

In just a few minutes, we are going to gather around the table and share in communion.

Before we do, we want to share with you the theme song for this Lenten series… “Again and Again” by the Many.

As you watch and listen and pray, we also invite you to gather whatever elements you have at home and bring to them to your table… or coffee table… or set them in front of you.

Pour yourself a glass of juice.

Break apart your roll or donut or slice of bread and make sure each person in your home has a piece.

Let your hearts and minds and bodies prepare for the invitation to meet God right where you are.

Again & Again, God Meets Us

Posted on February 21, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Genesis 9, Mark 1

In Lent, we are reminded that again and again, suffering and brokenness find us.

Again and again, the story of Jesus on the cross repeats – every time we witness the injustice and are reminded about how we have forgotten to love.

And again and again, God breaks the cycle and offers us a new way forward.[1]

In that way, this time of Lent is a blessing… a gift from God that reminds us God meets us wherever we are… but never lets us stay there.

Our scripture for this morning is the story of Noah and his family.

Noah found favor with God in the midst of a world that had fallen apart.

All the earth was filled with sin and wickedness, immorality and violence.

Again and again, we fail, don’t we?

God was fed up with the whole thing and wanted to start over.

So our Creator went to Noah and asked him to build a boat – a ship large enough to hold his family and one of every kind of animal.

And when the boat was completed, the skies opened up and it began to rain.

God blessed and saved Noah and his family through the flood… but every other person on the earth – all of them sinners – were swept away in the waters.

For forty days and forty nights, the rains fell and Noah and his wife and children were absolutely alone in the world.

But one day, the waters began to recede.

Eventually, the boat settled on dry ground and Noah and his family came out of the boat and the scriptures tell us that God looked around and realized what had transpired.

We often forget when we come to this part of the story that the earth’s population is gone.

We forget that the animals and plants and every other living thing on earth was now dead.

We forget of the devastating force of flood waters, until we go through them ourselves.

I remember vividly what it was like to walk in the neighborhoods of Cedar Rapids following the flood of 2008.

After just a few days of being submerged, the grass and the plants were dying and the stench of creatures that had not escaped was everywhere.

I can’t imagine the devastation after more than a month of floodwaters.

Scripture tells us that God looked around at all the destruction and made a promise – right there and then.

“Never again will I send a flood to destroy the earth and everything that lives on it. No, I’m going to put my rainbow in the clouds, so that whenever the storm clouds start to gather and you see that bow – I will remember the promise that I have made to you today.”

This part of the story – where God changes God’s mind is really hard for some of us to understand.

We don’t like the idea that God acts one way and then turns around and feels bad about it.

We like to think of our God as unchanging and dependable!

But I want to tell you that I don’t think this is story is about God’s uncertainty or remorse.

Many other cultures and religions in the world have a flood story.

American Indians, the Ancient Greeks, Sumerian and Babylonian traditions, among many others, tell of waters being sent by the gods to flood the earth.

Many of these also have a hero who is warned of the coming waters and who preserves the heritage of the people.

So it’s not surprising that the Hebrew tradition, our tradition, has a flood story, too.

What is surprising is that when all is said and done – our scriptures speak of God’s mercy and tell us that destruction is NOT how God is going to save the creation.

It’s almost as if our Hebrew ancestors took those familiar stories of the flood and they retold it with a new ending.

Our God, the God that we follow has made a covenant – a promise – with us.

Our God cares for the creation.

Our God desires life, not death.

It’s almost as if they were saying: the God we follow never would have sent a flood in the first place.

You see, from the very first chapter of Genesis to the very last chapter in Revelation, the message is conveyed in the Bible is that God loves us. God meets us where we are. God wants to redeem us… not destroy us.

This week for Ash Wednesday, we acknowledged our sin and our struggle.

We claimed our humanity and mortality.

We are all sinners… the dust of the earth.

Had we lived in the days of Noah, we would have been destroyed by those flood waters.

If we had followed the gods of the Babylonians, or the Greeks, or the gods of this world who demand performance and success – our only legacy would have been death.

But you know what?

We don’t follow the gods of this world…

we follow the God of the Universe.

And that great, amazing and powerful God looks down upon us,

specks of dust though we are,

sinners one and all,

and God loves us.

God reached down to the earth and took a lump of clay and formed us in the divine image.

Our God breathed his very life into humanity.

Our God is a merciful God, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Our God made a covenant with Noah that never again would all flesh be destroyed by the waters of a flood…

because our God desires not the death of a sinner but a repentant heart.

And that very same God restores all of creation, not by wiping the slate clean, but by meeting us where we are.

God takes on human flesh and is born among us.

We are dust. We are human and mortal and make so many mistakes.

But Christ came to show us a better way.

A statue of a person

Description automatically generated with low confidence — “I Delight in You” by Lisle Gwynn Garrity | sanctifiedart.org

Just a few weeks ago, we remembered the story of the baptism of Christ.

The way of Jesus begins with a repentant heart and through the waters of baptism, our sins are washed away and we are filled with the Holy Spirit.

God meets us where we are and our lives of dust are drenched with new life.

God speaks to each one of you… You are my child, and I love you.

God meets us where we are… but then refuses to let us stay there.

God refuses to let us return to those old lives and sends us off into something new.

Mark tells us that immediately after Jesus comes up from the waters of his own baptism, the Spirit drove him to the wilderness.

For forty days, Jesus stayed there.

It is a reminder of the forty days the waters covered the earth in the time of Noah.

It is a time we mark through the forty days of Lent.

And we read in Mark that Jesus was not alone.

We are never alone.

Jesus went into the wilderness and God met him there, too. Angels waited upon him.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I sure could use some angels in my life right now.

I need that reminder that God is present in my life.

I need to claim that reality that no matter what happens in the world, God loves me.

That is the opportunity we have in this season of Lent.

With all of the struggles that we face, we also have the chance to know God’s love and presence.

God is ready to meet you… right where you are… to refresh your spirit and guide you through.

And if ever we forget that reality, all we have to do is remember the rainbow.

In the midst of storms that threaten to destroy everything we have built and become, the rainbow shines as a promise that God is with us and will never let go.

I am reminded of these words from Bruce Pewer:

Rejoice in the rainbow.

It is the sign of God’s steadfast love which promises not destruction but hope and reconstruction.

It is on the basis of God’s covenant love that we dare to confront evil;

it enables us to laugh in the face of the evil one,

taking initiative and daring to be pro-active.

Against all the evil you see in the world,

against all the injustice and corruption you observe in our nation,

against all the perverse evil you see raising its sneaky head within yourself,

dare to paint a rainbow!

Paint a rainbow over your frustrating failings and wilful sins,

and over your irksome doubts and ignorance.

Over your sins within family life,

or the ugly compromises you may have had to make in the sphere of your daily work,

set that rainbow.

Project a rainbow over the motley fellowship which is the church,

with its flawed ministers, stumbling leaders and its sometimes passive congregations.

In your mind paint a rainbow

wherever flawed and lost humanity struggles to find a way of its own mess.

The rainbow is a permanent sign of God’s faithful love.

A love which not only creates, but constantly recreates and redeems.

For God so loved the world, God promised never again to destroy it, but to redeem it.

And we see it through the life of Christ, who took what was broken and made it whole.

He found in the poor, riches and in the blind, sight.

He saw God in the lives of sinners.

A picture containing text

Description automatically generated — “In Our Hands” by Lauren Wright Pittman |sanctifiedart.org

Jesus lived in the light of the rainbow promise – and showed that new and abundant life is what heals us.

And he died on the cross, so that the love of God might transform even death itself.

In the light of those promises, may you find the courage and boldness to face the pain and evil of this world, and respond out of Christ’s love. May you paint rainbows and remind the world and yourselves of how blessed we are. Amen.

[1] From the Again and Again guide, developed by Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity