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Follow the Star: Mantle

Posted on February 14, 2021Leave a comment

Text: 1 Kings 19: 3-6, 9-12, 15-16, 19; 2 Kings 2:1, 7-12

Today as we wrap up the season of Epiphany, we focus on the prophet Elijah and his protégé, Elisha.

A new king had arisen in the land – Ahab and his wife Jezebel – and instead of following the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, they worshipped the gods Baal and Asherah.

So God raised up Elijah and some other prophets to speak a word of judgment.

Naturally, these leaders didn’t take kindly to people criticizing their actions and sought to destroy the prophets.

Nearly a hundred went into hiding and the rest were executed.

All except for Elijah.

He continued to be faithful to his calling and publicly challenged the prophets of these other gods to a contest.

God’s power wins the day and Ahab and Jezebel’s prophets are put to shame and killed.

But now, Elijah’s life is really in danger.

Furious with defeat, Jezebel vows to hunt him down and kill him.

God’s prophet is terrified and alone and sinks into despair.
Sitting under a bush in the middle of the desert, he wants nothing more than death.

Here is a faithful servant of God, who intimately knows God’s power, and yet he cannot find the strength to keep going.

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

Does God tell him to get over it?
Is God embarrassed by the weary state of his servant?
Or resent that this so-called prophet just can’t do it right now?

No.
God accepts Elijah right where he is and accompanies him through this time.
God gives him the space he needs to take care of himself and his needs.
Elijah lies down under a bush and God lets him sleep.
God sends a messenger with food.
Bread, baking on a stone.
A jar of cool water.
Elijah eats and then sleeps again.
And God is there, watching over him and caring for him.
Then, God speaks to him… not through earthquake and wind and fire – not through judgment or anger or force… but in the thin and quiet God speaks.

God recognizes that this good and faithful servant can no longer do it alone.

So one of the ways that God cares for us is by raising up others to come alongside us.

Elisha is lifted up to follow in Elijah’s footsteps.

Throughout this season of Epiphany we have been trying to follow the star of discipleship.

We’ve seen how God is revealed and who we are.

We have heard the invitation to follow and repent.

We have talked about putting ourselves under God’s authority and what it means to wait upon the Lord in service and worship.

This is what discipleship looks like.

We start out with questions, seeking, curious, ready to dip our toes in the water.

And then we find our footing and begin to make some changes in our lives.

We grow as disciples and learn how to put more and more of our lives into God’s control.

But there also come days when the work is hard.

When we are worn out or burnt out or are overwhelmed.

There comes a time when our discipleship, our work of faith needs to take a back seat to other personal needs.

Sometimes we push ourselves too far.

Sometimes illness arrives unexpectedly.

Sometimes the task is too much.

Sometimes we need to remember that we are not Jesus.

And so I want to end our series on following the star with one final star word: mantle.

You see, the mantle, the cloak, is the object that Elijah places upon the shoulders of his apprentice Elisha.

It is a way that he passes the torch to the young prophet.

And it is a reminder that our journey of discipleship is also about the others who travel with us and our call to raise up the people who will come behind us.

You see, you can’t save the world by yourself.

You can make all the right choices and be faithful and read the bible every day, and your actions might feel like they are having very little impact on the world around you.

And that is because it isn’t all up to you!

That’s why Jesus brought us together as the body of Christ.

That’s why we have the church.

And that’s why a big part of our discipleship is paying attention to who we are raising up to follow in our footsteps.

Here at Immanuel, we have really embraced this concept of mentoring and passing the mantle in a few different ways.

Think about our third grade bible buddies or our confirmation mentors.

We invite adults to work with our young people and they come along side them sharing wisdom and insight and support and love.

So many of you can point to how those mentors have been so important in your own lives!

And those of you who have been mentors can say the same.

Your buddies have given you new energy and life for your own discipleship.

We find the same kinds of things happen when we go out and serve.

I’ve watched on mission trips or various outings to CFUM or Joppa how someone with more experience takes someone who is new under their wing.

In fact, I got to witness this first hand when Wendell and Ron showed Justin Wright and I how to install siding, and how to make sure that the seams didn’t show.

I swear, every time I drive by a house now, I can tell if someone put the siding on correctly.

It happens in worship whenever we have young people serving as ushers or invite new people into our musical groups. When someone who has never rung a bell or lit a candle or read scripture before is welcomed and encouraged and given a chance to succeed, we are placing our mantle around them.

And it happens as well in places where we connect. Our Wednesday Night Ladies have added a few helpers to their ranks in the last few years and stepped aside from heavy lifting to let others take on the work. Faithful folks who have so often taken care of others now find themselves the recipients of love and support from others through our Elder Care partners.

This is discipleship and it takes all of us working together.

You see, some of us are brand new and starting this journey. We are kind of like Elisha when Elijah first calls him out of his father’s fields. We are unsure, we are learning what it means and it is going to take us some time to find our footing. But thank God there are people who are there to call us and encourage us!

Some of us are growing, eager to learn and not quite ready to let go and try it on our own. As we heard about in our scripture today, Elisha wanted to stay close by his master, Elijah’s side right up until the very end. He wanted to soak up as much wisdom and grace and knowledge as he could. And even when Elijah was being taken up into the heavens, Elisha wanted to know more – he wanted a double portion of Elijah’s spirit!

There are other times in our journey of discipleship where we get burnt out, and need the encouragement of others to keep going. Think of Elijah, weary from his battles and from fighting as he collapses under the bush. In those times of our journey, we need the ability to say no, and to trust and believe that others are with us, can care for us and keep the ministry going until we can pick it back up again.

And there comes a time when we will pass the mantle and take on the task of mentoring and lifting up the people who come after us. Where we take on the role of a teacher or leader or guide who makes sure that others have the chance to take these kinds of steps, too. And what a joy it is when we see the people who come after us succeed and grow and do even better than we ever could.

Whether we are worshipping together, connecting with one another, growing in community, or going out together to the world, we are not alone.

We are following the star together.

We are becoming disciples together.

And together, we are making new disciples for Jesus Christ.

Wherever you are on this journey… there is a place for you and we are so glad you are here.

Amen.

Follow the Star: Service

Posted on February 7, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Mark 1:29-38, Isaiah 40:21-31
Today, as we follow the star, we hear an invitation from God to serve.
Why do we serve?
Is it because we are trying to earn our salvation?
Is it to gain brownie points with God or with others?
Do we serve from a sense of duty or obligation?
Or is our service simply the fruit of a life spent focused on God?
The way we demonstrate our gratitude for the gifts that have blessed our lives?

Today we have two passages to consider and before we dive into these powerful words from Isaiah, I think we need to situate them a bit in history.
Isaiah was a prophet of Judah, or the southern half of what was Israel.
After King David died, his kingdom was split into two. The blue part of this map was known as Israel and the yellow portion is the southern kingdom of Judah.
God wanted the people to serve.
To trust.
To let God be the king of their lives.
Not because God needed anything from them, but because it reflected God’s desires for the human family.
But both kingdoms had basically said, “No thank you, Lord! We want to try to do this ourselves.”

This is the God of all creation!
This is the one who sets the stars in the sky and raises up nations and kings!
This is the one who had rescued them from Egypt and had given them the land in the first place!
Instead of having hearts full of gratitude…
Instead of allowing their lives to be shaped by the one who had given them life…
They turned their backs on their Redeemer.
And God let them fall.

As Isaiah is called to prophesy to the to the kingdom of Judah, Israel, the blue portion of this map had just been conquered by the Assyrians.
They were wiped off the map and out of history, never to be heard from again.
And the word that comes to Isaiah is this:
I am the God of all creation.
I am everything that you need.
Tell the people of Judah that if they don’t start to follow me, if they try to trust in their own might, they will only find ruin.
My way is the way of life… yours is the way of death.
For 39 chapters, this is what Isaiah preaches to the people of Judah.
He warns them.
He pleads with them.
All he has to do is point to the north and remind them of what happened to their neighbors.
But his words fall on deaf ears.
And the consequence of their failure to trust and obey and live faithful and fruitful lives is that the Babylonians come in and Judah is conquered.

But here is the really important part.
God does not forget the people in exile.
God calls Isaiah once again, this time with a message of comfort and hope.
This chapter you see, chapter 40, is a turning point.
The people realize they can’t do it on their own.
They realize how futile it is to try.
And now, when they have hit rock bottom, God is right there offering strength and hope and life.

Isaiah tells them that even young people will faith and grow weary if they try to do it on their own. They will fall exhausted by the side of the road.
Youth is not a prescription for strength.
Military might will not save you.
Protein shakes and weights will not build the kind of muscles you need.
If you want to be spiritually strong and whole and full of life the only place to turn is the Lord.
Those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

Those who wait for the Lord…
Does it mean that we sit quietly and patiently?
That we stop everything else we are doing and just see what happens?
Not at all.
In fact, the Hebrew word for “waiting” is the same as the word used for twisting – like making a rope.
Far from being passive, this kind of waiting invokes the idea that you are being worked on, formed, and bound together.
Waiting on the Lord is being open and available to what God wants to do with your life.
There is the old joke about the man who prayed to God that he might win the lottery… but he never went out and bought a ticket.
This kind of waiting isn’t just sitting back and seeing if God will act.
It is active.
It is expectant.
It is full of hope and tension and we put our lives in the right place by waiting upon the Lord in service and worship.

I have been thinking about the process of bringing new life into the world through pregnancy. Any mother can tell you that this kind of waiting is not passive.
It is painful and full of uncomfortable moments.
You can’t just sit back and wait for something to happen.
What you eat matters. What you drink matters. How you move matters.
And in the process, two lives are entwined and bound together.

That’s what it is like to wait upon the Lord.
Our live becomes entwined with Gods as we serve and worship.
In the process, God’s strength becomes our strength.
And then God takes the single cord that is our life and twists it together with others in the church so that we are made even stronger.

Which brings me to Simon Peter’s mother-in-law.
In our gospel reading for today, Jesus enters this home and discovers that she is ill.
This isn’t just a cold, she is confined to bed with a fever.
Jesus enters the room and gently takes her by the hand and the fever is gone.
He helps her to her feet.
The very next thing she does… is to wait on them.

Now, there have been many times in the past when I have read this verse with a little bit of indignation.
I mean, what kind of a sexist message is being taught here, that the instant a woman is well, she jumps out of bed to serve the men?
But if we examine the text a little bit closely, we discover something interesting.
She waits upon them… like we are called to wait upon the Lord.
Her labor is not a menial household task, but the word we find here in greek is diakanos.
Diakanos is ministry.
It is the same word used to describe how the angels wait upon Jesus in the wilderness.
The same word Jesus uses when he washes the feet of his disciples and calls them to serve.
The same word used by the church to send out the first deacons.
Those who wait upon the Lord renew their strength.
Those who serve the Lord find abundant life.

Here was a woman who was trapped in her bed by her illness, much like the Judeans were in exile.
And yet, she waited in expectant hope.
She actively lived a life ready for God to work through her.
And just as God reached out to bring the people of Judah out of captivity, Jesus stretched out his hand to lift her up.
Her act of service in this moment is not just out of gratitude for what God has done and is doing in her life.
It is the fruit of a lifetime spent attentive to God’s will in her life.
And before even her own son-in-law figures out what he is doing as a disciple, she is already at work saying yes to God.
As Megan McKenna notes: “the first four followers of Jesus become five…”

Throughout this season of Epiphany, we have been following the star.
We’ve explored how God is revealed in our lives and reclaimed our identity.
Together we have received the invitation to follow… along with the call to repent.
Last week we talked about what it means to allow the authority of God to shape our realities.
Each of these star-words have been a step in a journey.
A journey that helps us to let go of the idea that we can do it ourselves.
A journey that reminds us that it is only in God that we find the strength and the power to keep going.
Only when we place our lives in God’s hands, in worship and service, will we truly discover life.

In her weekly reflection, Debie Thomas shares a quote from Annie Dillard’s book, The Writing Life: “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”
Even as I say those words, I think about how many hours in the last year I have spent on the couch watching shows on Netflix.
So often, we have grand plans for how we will live out our faith in the future.
I’ll be a disciple someday when I have time, or more energy, or the kids are grown.
As Thomas notes, they are “days filled with intention, purpose, and meaning. Days meticulously scheduled and beautifully executed. Days marked by attentiveness, order, devotion, and beauty. When I get around to living those days – maybe tomorrow? Maybe next month? – then I will begin to sculpt my life.”
What if instead, we simply allowed Jesus to take us by the hand and we got up and began to serve?
What if we stopped trying to do it our way and instead allowed God’s strength to lift our weary spirits and to twist and shape and transform our moments.
What if we stopped passively waiting for a mountain top moment, but claimed this day, right now, as when our life in God can begin.
How will you spend this day?

Follow The Star: Authority

Posted on January 31, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Mark 1:21-28

Our gospel lesson for today begins with Jesus teaching in the synagogue.
And the people of Capernaum were astounded by his teaching.
It wasn’t simply what he taught, but how he taught it.
Jesus exuded authority: power, freedom, ability…
The words were not simply something he had read, but something he possessed.
They brought into being the reality they proclaimed.
As the Message translation describes it, “They were surprised at his teaching – so forthright, so confident – not quibbling and quoting like the religion scholars.”

I must admit, I almost start to take offense to that.
After all, I’m one of those religion scholars, those teachers, trying my best to make sense of the text and what I know and what I don’t know.
You are a scholar, too.
You are a theologian, taking the scriptures and your prayers and studies and doing the best you can to make sense of it all.
And we all quibble and quote.
We have our favorite texts and verses and we rely upon the teachers and leaders who have formed us.
We turn to people whom we believe have the authority to guide us… and we trust them to help us gain knowledge.
But it is also a world of social media and fake news that is so polarized it feels like we are living in alternate realities.
Something happens in the world and we interpret the events completely differently.
What is truth?

In college, I took a class on epistemology. Epistemology simply is the study of knowledge and it explores what is a justified belief and what is simply opinion.
C. I. Lewis claimed that knowledge, or truth, comes from our experiences, but those experiences are always interpreted through our definitions or concepts.
For example, two people might experience an hour very differently… for one it passes quickly and for another it drags on. But because they share the concept that an hour is sixty minutes and have devices that monitor that span of time, they can meet after an hour has passed.
We come to share concepts and definitions, “by the business of living together and the methods of naming, pointing, and learning by imitation,” Lewis writes.
And so, we come to understand together, collectively, that this is green…
The sky is blue… tomorrow is Monday…
An action is good…

But when I follow one teacher, and you follow another…
When my social media feed is filled with one perspective and yours looks completely different…
When I get my news from one source, and you another… are there any concepts or definitions or knowledge that we share?

We used to have something called the fairness doctrine in broadcasting. It was introduced by the FCC in 1949 and it required broadcasters to do two things: One, they had to present controversial issues so that the public could be informed. Two, they had to do so in a manner that was honest, equitable, and balanced.
In effect, it created shared concepts because we named and pointed to the same issues in the world and at least had the same language to talk about them, even if there were differences of experience.
However, the policy was ended in 1987 and it is just one example of the many ways we have stopped living together.

We are swimming in a world of relativity, separateness, and disconnection.
We no longer share the same concepts or definitions.
Racism…. Socialism… sexism… accountability…
What do those words mean? What is true and real and good?

Maybe we, like the people of Capernaum, are longing for a greater authority.
Some truth with a capital “T.”
Words that have power to not simply fill the air, but to name and change reality.

As we read last week, Jesus came into Galilee announcing, “Now is the time! Here is God’s kingdom! Repent, change your hearts and your minds, and trust this good news!”
The gospel is good news.
It is truth and knowledge and proclamation of reality.
He entered the village and, on the Sabbath, sat down in the synagogue and began teaching.
And God’s Kingdom began to become real for them.
It had power and life and being and it was present in their very midst.
And the people were compelled by this reality to repent, to change their hearts and minds.
After all, Jesus was calling them to relinquish the knowledge that could be quibbled over to embrace something that was really and actually true.

But what happens to the power of ignorance or division when the Kingdom takes hold?
What happens to the power that denies life and sows misinformation?
The power that diminishes the value of another person?
Mark names that power… that spirit… “unclean.” “Evil.”
And when confronted with the words and the teaching of Jesus, that spirit began to fight.
Right there in the synagogue it cried out, throwing the community into chaos, “What have you to do with us? Have you come to destroy us?”

We don’t know how long that evil spirit had held power over that person and that community.
We don’t know the kind of damage it inflicted.
What we do know is that Jesus acts.
Jesus rebukes the spirit, stops the harm and expels it from their midst.

God has given us “the freedom and power” as our United Methodist baptismal vows proclaim, “to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.”
How can we fight back against forces that have separated and trapped us in cycles of misinformation and suspicion?
So what can we learn from Jesus about how to resist the power of division in our midst?

Jesus takes away its voice and drags it into the light of day where it dies.
Jesus rebukes it, shouting, “Silence! Come out!”

Now, today, in this moment, we see that silencing happening all around.
Cancel culture, after all, is rampant from people on all sides.
If we don’t like what someone has to say or what they believe, we simply unfollow them.
We ban them.
We scroll past.
We end friendships.

I want to start by saying that boundaries are important.
If you are being harmed by what another person is saying or doing, it is absolutely appropriate to separate yourself and to no longer allow their words to have power over you.
But so much of the kind of silencing we experience today simply reinforces our echo chambers. It drags us deeper into our separate spheres and we begin to see other human beings not as full and complex people but as a sound byte that can be dismissed.

And that is why I think we have to pair Jesus’s command to be silent with his call to come out.
To place our experiences and our knowledge in the light of day where we can hold it up to God’s intentions for our world.
Where we can truly compare our sources and our information with humility, an understanding that we might not have the full picture.
It is a call to re-engage.
To be present with one another.
To listen and seek to understand those we disagree with.
Jesus never asks us to set aside our experiences and perspectives, but to allow them to interact as we discern together where the authority of God our Creator and Redeemer is active and moving.
It is a call to share life with one another.

This week, our daily devotions will explore scriptures relating to God’s authority.
We’ll think about people who spoke God’s word into our midst and times when we had to set aside what we thought was true based on new information. We’ll think about what it means to humbly remember we are not the center of the universe.
But perhaps the most important scripture about authority we will read is the last one.
Paul tells us in his letter to the Corinthians that we can have all of the right words and all the right answers, but if we have no love for others, all of that knowledge and truth and experience is for nothing.
Love is the force that created us.
Love is the power that unites us.
Love is the reality that truly offers life.

There is an organization called Braver Angels that is working to try to bring people together in these incredibly divisive times. This week in its newsletter, they highlighted a relationship between a Quaker and a QAnon-believer in Maryland.
Their goal is not to change the other person, but to understand where they are coming from. The author notes:

“They don’t agree on much, though both believe in the importance of integrity in elections and media. But their definitions of integrity differ… [One of them] suggested they decide on a glossary, so that they actually speak the same language.”
These two people are taking the time to listen to one another and to build a common life.

That is the kind of Kingdom that Jesus calls into being.
It is an invitation for people who are radically different to build a common life.
Jesus calls sinners and saints.
Young and old.
Jews and Gentiles.
Blue-collar fisherman and white-collar government workers.
Men and women and people of various ethnic backgrounds.
Pharisees and Zealots.
And we come to learn that we need one another.
We are called to reorient our lives under an authority greater than any of our own experiences.
An authority that created the world and everything in it.
An authority that commands us to love.

So maybe in the coming days and weeks, wherever the forces of division or hatred rear their ugly head in this world, accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist.
Speak out loud if you have to: “I see you. I know what you are. And I refuse to let you separate me from others.”
Choose instead to cast it into the light of God’s love.
Love that puts others first.
Love that doesn’t hold grudges or delight in others mistakes.
Love that seeks the truth.

Follow the Star: Repent

Posted on January 24, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Mark 1:14-20, Jonah 3:1-5,10

Over the last year our routines, our work, our families, our vacations… so many parts of our lives were unexpectedly turned upside down and inside out.
Including our church.
One of my mentors often reminds me that church is often the place that we go to escape the change that happens in the world. It has often been one of the only stable places we can turn.
Churches are notorious for being stubborn and afraid to try new things…
After all, we’ve never done it that way before.

But this year, we had to.
We had to adapt.
We had to change with the circumstances.
We had to embrace a new way of being together and being the church.
We had to repent and believe the good news.

The Greek word we translate into “repent” is metanoia.
It is a reorientation.
Turning around.
Changing our thoughts and our actions.
And in scriptures, we are called to repentance, transformation, when we encounter a new understanding of reality… God’s reality.

Well, we’ve certainly had to do that this year.
In light of the reality of a deadly virus, we reoriented ourselves.
We embraced new practices like online worship and small groups and studies.
But we also noticed some things about our church that honestly, we should have changed a long time ago, but we were too stuck in old ways to do it.
One example of this is how our church, like a lot of churches, can get stuck in cliques and groups.
You notice it at coffee time when people tend to sit down with the same group of people every week.
It’s who we know, who we are comfortable with.
But sometimes that means that a new friend to our church is left out.
Now, if I had come down to Faith Hall between services, and mixed up all of the seating arrangements, ya’ll would have revolted on me.
But when worship moved online, we began to host our Zoom coffee time and our breakout rooms got randomly assigned.
No one gets left out and anyone who wants to stay gets to “sit at a table” with different folks each week.
In the process, we’ve made new friends, learned more about each other, and I think our church is stronger as a result.
That is repentance in action.
A new understanding of who we are and new practices that help us to be more faithful to who God is calling us to be.

As we seek to follow the star and align our lives more closely to God, let’s take a deeper look at how repentance plays a role.
Today, we have two different scriptures that help us to embrace what that means. One is an example of how we turn from actions that have separated us from God. The other is how we might turn towards God’s call in our lives.

Let’s start with Jonah.
One of our more traditional ways of speaking about repentance is naming and confessing our sins.
I have to admit that every time I hear the word “repent” I picture someone standing on a street corner holding up a sign.
And, honestly, that’s kind of what Jonah did!
In the Message translation, God’s instructions come to Jonah: “Preach to them. They’re in a bad way and I can’t ignore it any longer.” (3:1-2)
So Jonah walked for three days through the city telling them the end was near…. “In forty days you will be destroyed.”

Notice, Jonah doesn’t tell them to repent.
But his words help the people of this city see reality in a new way.
They recognize their evil and their sin and they turn from it.
The entire community repents, turns around, reorients themselves to God’s preferred future.
They have no promises of mercy, no hope of restoration.
But confronted with reality, they realize they simply cannot go on a moment longer the way they had been living.
They turn from their ways in a moment of repentance.

Over the last year, there have been a number of moments when we have experienced this kind of clarity and need for repentance.
From the death of a black man on a street in Minneapolis, to raging wildfires perpetuated by climate change, to the brazen display of Christian nationalism in the insurrection a few weeks ago, we have been confronted with images that lead us to cry out… this is not who we want to be.
We may disagree about what concrete actions and policy changes need to happen, but our lives have been collectively reoriented, altered, as we have realized there are systemic and interpersonal realities we must turn from.
I think back to the story of the Ninevites who saw their impending doom.
They recognized just how far their lives and their actions were from what God intended for them and they did something about it.
Whenever we are confronted with reality, a new reality, a different reality, we have the opportunity to hold our lives up to the measure of God’s intentions for us.
If what we discover leads us to change our thoughts or actions, that is repentance.

But there is another piece of this story that is important.
God repents.
When God sees how the people have claimed a new reality, how they have truly turned from evil, the divine mind is changed.
God turns from calamity and destruction to mercy and grace.
God experiences metanoia, too.

In our gospel reading from Mark, we find Jesus himself as the street corner preacher, calling everyone he encounters to repent and believe in the good news.
He is not pointing out their faults or their lack of faith. He is not calling them to turn from something that was bad or evil, but calling them towards a new reality, a Kingdom reality.
His words reach Simon and Andrew, James and John, simple fishermen who drop their nets and leave their jobs and their families.
But as Thomas Long, a preacher and professor at Candler School of Theology claims, “Jesus disrupts [their reality] not to destroy but to renew.” He notes how their roles as brothers and sons become transformed into new relationships in God’s family and how even their work becomes a part of how they serve the Kingdom. “Their past has not been obliterated; it has been transformed by Jesus’ call to follow.”
In the light of Christ, they see themselves in a new light and the potential of who they could be.

I have watched over these last years how the people of Immanuel have heard this call and have turned towards God, using their gifts and strengths to serve the Kingdom.
The ways that you have come to understand that church is not simply a place where you find comfort and the familiar, but where you hear the call to become more of what God believes you can be.
I think about the young woman in our church who felt the tug to make blankets for our homeless neighbors.
Or about our knitters who made prayer squares… which we have also shared with essential workers at our local care centers.
I think about men and women in our church who have built sets for VBS that have helped our children to grow closer to Jesus.
And about those who give their time on Sunday mornings in the AV booth to make sure that we remain connected to God and one another.
Or those who manage our finances, or lead us in music, or make sure the food pantry is filled.
And I think about the countless stories you have shared with me about how you are finding new ways to live out your faith in your work place, in your homes.

Repentance is not simply turning from our past and our failures, but it is also about turning toward who God has created you to become and the Kingdom reality that God is bringing to bear upon this earth.
It is, as our first National Youth Poet Laureate said on Wednesday at the inauguration, the remembrance that we are “not broken, but unfinished.”
That there is more to do, more to experience, more ways to serve, that there is a fullness that awaits us if we simply could repent.
Turn around.
Turn towards God.
Change our hearts and our actions.
To allow ourselves to be transformed.
May it be so.

Follow The Star: Invitation

Posted on January 17, 2021Leave a comment

Text: John 1:43-51

This year has begun with chaos, violence, grief, and pain.
And I have to admit that when I sat down to write this sermon, the words just wouldn’t come.
Or rather, I would write and then my anger and frustration would kick in and I’d have to delete what I had typed.
And then I’d sit in sadness for a while.
What, honestly, do we say in times like these.
Can we go on as if everything is normal?

But the more I sat, the more I felt God nudging me to stay in that moment.
To not try to soothe or explain anything with words, but to simply be.
God could see where I was… and God still loved me.
God didn’t need anything else from me.

So today, rather than telling you what this text is all about, I invite you into a space to simply be with God.
To let where you are today, in this moment, to be revealed.
God is inviting you to come into the presence of Christ just as you are.
And ironically? Providentially? God had already given us a text to use.

So, find a comfortable place to sit…
Close your eyes.
Place your feet on the ground or your hands by your side…
Feel the substance, the strength, of the ground or surface beneath them.
Notice the places where your body is connected to whatever is supporting you.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.

In our lesson today, Jesus is calling disciples.
“Follow me,” he says.
He issues an invitation not to everyone, but to individuals.
People with gifts and talents and baggage and stories.
Think about the people you might encounter on a regular basis.
Who among them do you think Jesus would pick out and personally invite to follow him?
What is it about their life that makes them worthy of the invitation?
Is there any among those people you imagine Jesus would not invite?
Notice what that question does in your heart.
There might be people we would exclude… But is there anyone Jesus would exclude?

If Jesus turned to you and said, “Follow me,” how would you respond?
What would you do first?

Our scripture tells us that Philip receives an invitation.
And the first thing he does is to go and find his friend.
He goes to share the good news.
“We’ve found him!” Philip says. “The One we’ve been waiting for!”
Waiting for a long time.
Since the time Moses… and Isaiah…
Centuries of waiting.
And in light of this invitation to respond and participate, Philip’s response to Jesus is outgoing and exuberant.
Without any kind of judgment, think about your own response to God’s invitation.
Do the words outgoing or exuberant describe you?
If not, think about someone who embodies those qualities.
What is a gift that someone like Philip brings to the ministry of Christ in the world?

Nathanael also received an invitation to follow Jesus.
Not personally, but through his friend.
And his first response is to ask a question.
“What good can come out of Nazareth?”
After centuries of waiting, he is hopefully, but weary.
Maybe a little jaded or cynical.
Or maybe Nathanael just wants to know more.
Or he is troubled by the certainty that his friend has.
Without any kind of judgment, think about your response to God’s invitation.
Do the words weary or questioning describe you?
If not, think about someone who embodies those qualities.
What is a gift that someone like Nathanael could bring to the ministry of Christ in the world?

Sometimes in our relationships with others, we find ourselves at odds with someone.
They don’t share our joy… or frustration. They ask hard questions. Or push back.
In a world of division, this might feel more common than ever.
What do you do when others react this way?
Are you hurt? Do you give them space? Do you turn away from them? Are you persistent? Do you try to argue your point?
Think about how Philip replies to his friend.
He isn’t put off by the skepticism, he doesn’t push back.
He simply offers another invitation.
“Come and see.”
Think about someone in your life you disagree with. About politics, about covid, about Jesus…
How might you ask them to “come and see”?
To invite them in rather than push them away.

Our scripture today concludes with Nathanael meeting Jesus.
A Jesus who sees him.
A Jesus who knows him.
Inside and out.
Before they ever spoke, Jesus knew his questions and his honesty.
What some people might name as a fault, Jesus sees as a gift.
And when he realizes God knows him so intimately…
That God loves him…
And welcomes him…
And accepts him…
As he is…
He cries out his profession of faith.
This same Jesus that saw Nathanael sees you.
Knows you.
Whether you are exuberant like Philip…
Or questioning like Nathanael…
Or quiet…
Or angry…
Or grieving…
Or weary…
Whatever you are today, know this.
You are known by God.
You are invited and welcomed by God.
You are a gift of God to this world.
Amen.

Follow the Star: Identity

Posted on January 10, 2021Leave a comment

Text: Mark 1:4-11

Last week, we invited you to follow the star of the Magi…
Not the one in the sky, but the one in the manger.
The one who drew them over mountains and deserts and seas.

I love how the Message translation makes clear that the object we are seeking and following is none other than Jesus.
“The star in this drama,” John the Baptist says, “will change your life.”

John called people to the river to confess and repent.
To wash away their old life and make a commitment to a new one.
It was a simple invitation and people were drawn by this call.
They were eager to embrace this tangible, physical, vigorous act of letting themselves be washed clean.
As the cold water drifted by them, the current took their sins away.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if it was that easy?
Just hop in the river and everything is better?

But even John the Baptizer knew this wasn’t the end of the story.
It wasn’t enough.
You couldn’t just say “I’m sorry.”
You actually had to start living differently and there was only one person who had the power to change people from the inside-out.
So he started preparing people for the true star of this show, the mighty and powerful one who would wash people not with water, but with the very Spirit of God.
And then, Jesus appeared.
He showed up at that very same river and spot and he was baptized, too.

Mark tells us that Jesus saw the heavens open and the Holy Spirit come down.
Like a dove diving from the heavens it rested upon him.
And then there was a voice.
“You are my son.
You are chosen and marked by my love.
You are the pride of my life.“

If last week, the star word we focused on was epiphany, this week it is identity.
And clearly, we discover the identity of Jesus in this passage.
God makes it pretty clear who this guy standing in the water is.
God’s Son.
Beloved.
Delightful.

But if this was the identity of Jesus Christ, why did he need to be baptized?
Why did he enter the water in the first place?
Certainly not because he needed to repent or because he was unclean.
No… Jesus entered the water for us.
He stepped into the water so that you could enter the water.
So that you could let go of your sins.
So that we might be made sons and daughters and children of God.
So that the Holy Spirit might descend and flow into our lives.
As the Orthodox baptismal liturgy asserts: “He emerges from the waters and uplifts the world with Him.”

You see, baptism began as a simple ritual washing, but it was transformed by Christ in this holy and sacred moment into a mark that is stamped on your soul and can never go away.
“You are mine,” God says.
“You are beloved,” God says.
“Don’t you ever forget how proud I am of you.”
This is who you are now.
This is your very identity.
Chosen and beloved of God.

Martin Luther once said that every time we wash our hands or our face we should remember our baptism.
Every time we should remember that we are a child of God.
In fact, he was known to often make the sign of a cross on his forehead and whisper softly to himself, “I am baptized.”

That might be easy to remember on the days when the sun is shining and all is right with the world, but it is something we need to remember on the tough days as well.
And, well, we’ve known some tough days lately.
Wednesday, as I was working on writing and praying over the star words that we mailed out this week I got a notification from a colleague that said, “turn on your television.”
I sat at my desk shaking, stunned by the images unfolding on the screen.
T-shirts celebrating the holocaust, the confederate flag paraded through the halls of congress, the large cross being erected on the lawn.
And so many were quick to say: “this is not who we are.”

Except, it is.
This world is broken, and bleeding, and bruised…
As my colleague Diane Kenaston wrote, “This is exactly who we are. We’re shaped by white supremacy, lust for power, violence, scapegoating, fear, and individualism. We’re shaped by sin. And it’s for that reason that we need the transforming love of God… This is who we are, but this is not who we have to be.”

We are called to claim an identity that calls us to love and serve and heal and forgive.
“You are mine,” God says. “You are beloved…. Don’t forget it.”
In the act of baptism in our tradition, it is not simply that God’s Spirit washes over us.
God gives us the power to actually be different.
And so with God’s help, we take vows.
We make promises to reject spiritual evil and the forces of this world.
We promise to resist injustice and oppression.
We promise to stand with God not political leaders… of either party.
We promise to trust in God’s grace.
And all of that becomes part of our identity, too.

Sometimes we are called to do that in small ways. Nadia Bolz-Weber writes:
“The first move of the devil is always the same. Attack your identity as the beloved with whom God is well pleased… nowhere are we more prone to encroaching darkness than when we are stepping into the light. If you have ever experienced sudden discouragement in the midst of healthy decisions, or if there is a toxic thought that will always send you spiraling down, or if there is a particular temptation that is your weakness, then I make the following suggestion: take a note from Martin Luther’s playbook and defiantly shout back at this darkness “I am Baptized”…”
She goes on to recount how when faced with his own doubt and discouragement Luther was known to throw ink pots or other small items in whatever direction he felt a sense of spiritual malevolence… he could sometimes be heard throughout the castle shouting “I AM BAPTIZED!”

I have to admit that this sermon was not only complete, but had already been printed and mailed out to about fifty households when I turned on the news on Wednesday afternoon.
And as I sat there at my desk I found myself whispering to myself… I am baptized… I am baptized…
But I also wondered how many of the people in that crowd had been baptized, too.
I wondered about how that moment might have been different if their pastor had told them that celebrating the holocaust was evil.
Or if their Sunday School teacher had commented on their facebook post and challenged their white supremacy.
Or if they had heard a sermon that made it clear our allegiance is to God and not the leaders of this world.
Or maybe if there had been someone in their life besides the leader of our country who told them… You are loved. You are special.
And then I wondered whether I had actually done… or if I have failed to do those things.
Where have I been complicit in this moment.

The words of my dear friend and colleague, Rev. Diane Kenaston keep ringing through my head.
“This is who we are, but this is not who we have to be.”
And as we come to these waters, we remember the identity that God calls us to embody.
And God gives us the strength to face the world in all of its reality.
Good and bad.
Tragedy and pain.
Joy and celebration.
And the Holy Spirit helps us to say yes to the things that bring life and no to the things that bring death.
But we cannot do it without our baptisms.
We cannot do it if we forget that the Spirit has our back.
“You are mine,” God says. “Chosen and marked by my love, pride of my life.”
In the midst of everything that is wrong, God pours sanctifying grace into our lives so that we can be different.
So that we can remember that we belong to God and that others belong to God, too.
So when violence breaks out we can stand for peace with justice and accountability.
When pain is felt, we can listen to the hurt and offer comfort without being overwhelmed.
When evil rears its ugly head, we can stand up, and let God shine through us.
And when we have failed, God forgives and renews and gives us the grace to try again.
Thanks be to God. Amen.

Follow the Star : Epiphany

Posted on January 3, 2021Leave a comment

Has God ever spoken to you?
Have you ever seen a sign?
Heard a voice?
Met God in a dream?

As I was finishing up my senior year of high school, I was kind of a mess. I could not figure out where I wanted to go to college, and my indecision was creating a lot of anxiety. I worried that if I made the wrong choice it would affect everything from that point on in my life.
I had this portable filing box filled with folders and acceptance letters and brochures and applications and I was overwhelmed by it all.
But one afternoon, I found myself driving home from a youth event and I knew….
Like a light bulb turning on above my head…
I knew that I was going to Simpson College.
Never mind that it wasn’t even one of the schools in my folders or that I hadn’t even applied yet.
It just came to me and felt like everything was suddenly right with the world.

The word Epiphany means “an appearance or manifestation” and the twelfth day after Christmas we celebrate how God’s love became manifest in human form
And we remember all of the people who first experienced this revelation of good news: the shepherds in the fields, Mary and Joseph, and the wise men from the East.

I keep thinking about how God acted and spoke and moved and showed up in the lives of these totally unrelated people from different background and realities.
Some of them might not even have known the God of the Israelites.
But through dreams and signs and nudges and messengers, God showed up in their lives.
As the prophet, Isaiah, cried out…
Arise! Shine! For your light has come… though darkness covers the earth and gloom the nations, the Lord will shine upon you… Nations will come to your light and kings to your dawning radiance. (60:1-3)
Not just the faithful people of God would be drawn near, but nations! Kings! Strangers! Unbelievers!

As Matthew tells us, it wasn’t simply a star in the sky that drew the magi to Bethlehem.
They recognized that the star itself was a sign, a message of something bigger. It was the light of Christ himself, revealed to the entire world, that pulled those magi over mountains and deserts and seas to the countryside surrounding Jerusalem.
Before they even knew who he would become or what it meant for their lives, this epiphany, appearance, manifestation, changed their lives.
They felt a nudge to move, to act, to respond.
And they did.

When John Wesley talked about the grace that transforms our lives, he started out by talking about prevenient grace.
The grace that goes before us.
The grace that shows up in the lives of people before they even know who God is.
Prevenient grace is why we baptize little babies.
It was the neighbor who reached out to invite you to come to church.
It was website you stumbled across when you were looking for a new faith home.
It was the faithful actions of your parents and grandparents that laid a foundation for you.
Prevenient grace is that first nudge.
The invitation.
The awareness of a different kind of possibility.
A sign. A star. A word.
Something that shifts.
We don’t always know yet how, or why, or what it means, but it changes us.

I saw how many of you were drawn out of your homes just a couple of weeks ago to catch a glimpse of that great conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter in the sky. While it was possible to see with your naked eye or through binoculars, this particular photo was made available by Greg Hogan. It was taken as a long exposure shot from central Georgia.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience… after all it has been 800 years since these planets appeared so closely.
But I think part of what was so powerful about this experience is that we are hungry for light.
We are hungry for hope.
We are hungry for just a glimmer of possibility and joy.
We find ourselves at the start of a new year, and yet still in the midst of a pandemic.
Our world, feels kind of bleak right now.
But so it was at the time of Jesus’ birth and in the time of Isaiah.
Forces of death and violence, power and pride lurked around every corner.
They knew the despair of exile and occupation.
They knew isolation and helplessness.
But into their midst, Isaiah heard God’s call:
“Arise! Shine! Lift up your Eyes!”
In the midst of everything that is going wrong, LOOK!
Look for those glimmers of grace.
Those indications of hope.
Those moments of possibility.
Pay attention to the invitation…
See what God is doing all around you…
The magi in the East recognized that this star was leading them on a journey into the unknown. And they chose to follow the star that led them to Jesus.

This Epiphany, in the midst of everything happening in our world that feels bleak and difficult, I want to invite you to get up. To shine. To pay attention.
I want to invite you on a journey.
For the last few years on this Sunday, we have come forward to draw star words.
Each star came with a word, an intention, a little nudge from God… something to pay attention to in the coming year.
This year, rather than each drawing our own words, we are going to follow the stars together.
We are going to take time each Sunday to focus on how a few star words speak into our lives.
How they call us to go deeper.
Live more faithfully.
Grow in our discipleship.
And just like the magi, I want to invite you to not only be willing to offer your gifts with God… but I want to invite you to be open to what God might be giving to you in this journey.

You know, when I had that epiphany to go to Simpson College, I had no clue what God had in store for me.
Heck, Simpson didn’t even have a meteorology department and that was what I intended to study.
But I opened myself to the possibilities and how I could best serve God and just look where I ended up.
It was all because I allowed myself to pay attention to those nudges and I decided to take a risk and follow them.

Whether we are new to this faith or we have been coming to church for nearly a century… God is still shining in your life.
God is still guiding you.
God is still speaking… nudging… showing up…
God is still creating a new thing in you….
Renewing you…
Transforming you…
So that every one of us might become more and more like Christ.

Friends, a star is shining in the sky.
In a world that is bleak and frustrated and tired and worn out, there is a glimmer of possibility.
Of something new.
Unknown.
And if you open your life up to it…
If you take one step… and then another…
If you bring along some friends…
If you let that nudge work in your life…
It just might change everything.

May it be so…

No Christmas Without Joy and Acceptance

Posted on December 13, 2020Leave a comment

All through this Advent season we are exploring the complicated family tree of Jesus of Nazareth Matthew shares with us.
Their stories are a legacy of courage and faith, justice and peace, that shape how we understand our Savior in the manger of Bethlehem.
Today, we remember that there would be no Christmas, no Jesus, no salvation without Ruth.
Salmon was the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab.
Boaz was the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth.
Obed was the father of Jesse.
Jesse was the father of David the king. (Matthew 1: 5-6)
So let us listen today, for how God moves through unexpected people and in unexpected ways to bring to us a redeemer…

Our story begins in Bethlehem itself.
Bethlehem, or “House of Bread.”
A place of abundance is overrun by famine.
Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, had two sons and lived contently within the city in the time of the judges.
It was a time without a centralized government, with great instability and turmoil.
When they could no longer make a future for themselves within their hometown, they fled and became refugees.
We might see their faces in the images of refugees from Syria and Iraq and northern Africa today… Camping in muddy fields, clothes wet from the journey, their only possessions what they could carry, completely unsure if they will be welcomed wherever they arrive.
The place they come to call home is the land of Moab.
Now, it is important at this point to consider what it meant for them to find a home here. The Moabites were actually distant cousins of the Israelites, tracing their lineage all the way back to Abraham’s nephew, Lot and his daughters.
The Ammonites and the Moabites are their descendants and were regarded with disdain and suspicion.
As the story of the people of Israel continues, these distant cousins became enemies.
They refused hospitality to the Israelites as they fled from Egypt and watched with great unease as Joshua and his people conquered the land.
Our story today is just one generation removed from this conflict, yet Naomi and Elimelech seek refuge there.
Just as they establish themselves, Elimelech dies, leaving Naomi and her two boys, Mahlon and Kilion.
Years pass. They grow up and they each marry women from that land… Moabite women… Ruth and Orpah.
But then one son after the other dies.
As Helen Pearson notes, “This healthy family had earlier departed a sick land only to become sick in a healthy land. Death canceled hope, and Naomi became a stranger in a strange land.” (p. 115)
She plans to return to Bethlehem to live as a widow… resigned to beg for the rest of her sad and bitter life. And she sends the Moabite daughters-in-law away, releasing them from any obligations with the opportunity to start anew.
Naomi prays that God would show them the same kind of loving-kindness, chesed, that they and their people had shown to them as strangers.
They weep. They grieve. They lament all they have lost.
And then… one of these daughters, Ruth, refuses to leave Naomi’s side.
It is an act of loving-kindness… unmerited love and grace and mercy shown to Naomi.
Even more than that.
Ruth casts her lot with the God of Naomi.
Ruth commits herself to a life where she will be the stranger and the foreigner, a grieving widow with no tangible possibilities.

You know, this year we have ourselves experienced grief, loss, tragedy, and disruption.
The loss of jobs and income.
The grief over loved ones we have lost.
The disruption of our routines where everything normal and familiar was taken from us.
We have been cut off from one another and have had to miss out on times of celebration.
There have been moments where we felt like Naomi and Ruth in this moment… grieving, lonely, and depressed.
As they make the journey back to Bethlehem, this despair so overtakes Naomi that she begs people to call her Mara – The Bitter One.

What she fails to recognize in this moment is that she is, in fact, not alone.
Ruth is by her side.
She had not been completely abandoned.
And friends… you have not been abandoned in this season either.
In small ways and in big ways, we have walked with each other through the dark and shadowy valleys and show up with cards and calls and food and connection.

Ruth takes the initiative to provide for them by going out to glean in the fields.
She is essentially going to pick up the small grains that are left on the ground after the harvesters have done their work.
It was back-breaking work, demeaning work, dangerous work.
She was a Moabite stranger, with no one to look out for her, utterly at the mercy of the field hands.
Remember how Naomi prayed that God would show her daughters-in-law kindness?
While she is out there working, a man named Boaz sees her.
Boaz, the son of Salmon, whose mother was Rahab.
Rahab the prostitute.
Rahab who herself was a foreign woman.
Rahab who herself risked everything to secure a future for her family.
Rahab who had faith in the God of Israel.
Rahab who welcomed the spies in hospitality and in peace.
You can’t ignore that her story has impacted the character of her son.
Boaz is moved not only by her work-ethic, but also by the way in which she sacrificed and acted to stand beside Naomi. He decides to show her favor and protection.
He make sure she has access to the best fields, has plenty to eat and drink, and protects her from his own men.

This act of favor and kindness is like a spark of life for Naomi.
She realizes that Boaz was a distant relative, someone who could redeem her husband’s property and provide for their future.
The law of levirate marriage that we heard about in the story of Tamar couldn’t apply here because Naomi had no other children.
But a kinsman redeemer could intervene. As Helen Pearson notes, they had “the obligation and duty to provide security, especially for widows and the poor; to restore the honor and prestige of the family; and to protect the interests, property, and inheritance of his extended family.” (p. 128)
Boaz could act to protect Naomi, but Ruth would remain vulnerable.
And so Naomi hatches up a plan for them to both get what they needed.
Ruth would present herself to Boaz as a potential wife.
If I had more time today, we’d get into the details of this drunken encounter on the threshing floor, but let’s just say, Boaz is willing and eager to take Ruth as his own and to take on the role of redeeming Elimelech’s property.
After going through all of the proper channels, Boaz marries Ruth and protects the legacy of Elimelech, Kilian and Mahlon.
They give birth to a child, Obed, and Naomi rediscovers the meaning of joy and life and abundance through her grandchild.

One the scriptures we will explore this week in our daily devotions is Psalm 126.
It is a song that rings out in times of exile and struggle:
Lord, change our circumstances for the better, like dry streams in the desert waste!
Let those who plant with tears reap the harvest with joyful shouts.
Let those who go out, crying and carrying their seed,
Come home with joyful shouts, carrying bales of grain!
Ruth and Naomi went out with tears, but God acted in their lives and they came home with joyful shouts.
And as we continue this journey to the manger, we see their legacy in the story of Jesus.
You see, when Joseph discovered his fiancée was pregnant, he probably cried out: Lord, change our circumstances! But he stuck by Mary, like Ruth stuck by Naomi.
When the holy family had to feel to a strange land and flee from the wrath of Herod, they probably cried out: Lord, change our circumstances! But God journeyed with them, as God did these weary refugees.
All along the way, acts of hospitality and gifts of kindness sustained their parched spirits.
We see how Christ takes up this legacy as he acts to bring life and joy and abundance in the midst of moments of despair and hunger and longing.
He brings the dead to life.
He feeds the multitudes.
He shows compassion and kindness upon strangers and foreigners.
Those who plant with tears reap a harvest of joyful shouts.

In this season of Advent, we are called to prepare our hearts and our lives for Jesus Christ.
We are called to make a home in our hearts for Christ to dwell.
And we do so by remembering the legacy of these faithful ancestors and allowing it to transform our own lives.
After all, there would have been no Christmas without Ruth.
When we find ourselves, as Naomi did, swallowed up by despair and grief, joy is discovered when we realize that others are journeying with us and that we are not, in fact, alone.
Your acts of connection, the cards you send and the calls you make, the cookies you drop off at a neighbor’s door… all of these things are like seeds of joy that you can plant every single day.
But I’m also struck by the larger forces that this story brings into focus.
This is a world in which asylum seekers and refugees who have left their homes with tears are crying out. At the end of 2019, an estimated 26 million people had sought refuge from violence war, famine and climate disasters. Another 33.4 million people were internally displaced, living in shelters and camps within their own country due to violence or disaster.
But we don’t have to even think globally to be aware of the deep need and hunger for support for people right here in our own neighborhood who rely upon the food pantry and our social services to stay in their homes or to make it through a long, cold winter.
Lord, change their circumstances for the better!
And then I realize that God acts through you and me.
God acted through the Moabites who welcomed refugees into their land.
And God acted through the compassionate hospitality and protection of Boaz and the community in Bethlehem that provided for Ruth and Naomi.
Your acts of kindness, generosity and welcome can make an incredible difference, changing circumstances, providing possibility, filling mouths with laugher and joy and abundance.
This next weekend, we are hosting a drive-through food drive for the DMARC Food Pantry Network. Let us pour out joy and abundance and grace and love to our neighbors during this difficult season.