Tag Archives: faithful

Sermon – Luke 6.20-31, AS, YC, November 2, 2025

05 Wednesday Nov 2025

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

On the blog this week, I shared about friends of ours who are fragrance aficionados.  When we spend time together, we’ve taken to doing fragrance samplings with them – sort of like wine tastings, but with the focus on the sense of smell.  Invariably, I find a new fragrance I like that I had never heard of, but that brings me a sense of playful joy.  This past week I was sharing one of those fragrances with one of our daughters and she said, “It’s okay, but I prefer your ‘Mom smell.’”  While I wish there was a more attractive label to that particular fragrance, and while I suspect that “Mom smell” is some combination of the scents of my soap, hair products, and laundry detergent, I get what my daughter meant.  Just like fragrances can evoke memories of special places, fragrances can also recall to us people in our lives.  One whiff, and we are transported to another time and place, remembering what someone meant to us.

On this All Saints Sunday, we engage in a similar kind of sensory recalling.  In our case at Hickory Neck, instead of the sense of smell, we invoke the sense of touch – the feel of smooth or ridged ribbons running through our fingers as we tie them to the altar rail in memory of a saint of God, the feel of droplets of water landing on our heads and bodies as we recall our baptismal identity and the baptisms of saints who have died, and the feel of the wafer in our hands and mouth or the feel of the priest’s thumb as they rub a blessing on our forehead, as we engage in the earthly banquet, reminiscent of the heavenly banquet our loved ones are enjoying.

But just like scents have the power to remind us of beloved memories, so scents can remind us of painful memories.  While some of us may have a “Mom scent” we recall with love and affection or wistful memory, others of us didn’t have such beloved memories or experiences – and unfortunately, smells can recall those memories too.  As I was reading Luke’s gospel for today, that’s where I landed – that all of us – all of us saints of God – have the opportunity to live lives of good or ill – to leave behind fragrances that help or harm.  And since Luke’s language is entirely literal and not at all the flowery, spiritual language of Matthew’s beatitudes[i], we are very clear on Jesus’ words and meaning.  The blessings and woes of Luke’s beatitudes are straightforward and simple.  As one scholar puts it, “If you want anything to do with Jesus or the God who sent him, Luke says, you had better go find the poor, the hungry, the captives, the blind, and the outcast, and join Jesus, as Jesus cares for them.  The way we know who Jesus is, is to go where Jesus is, with the poor, the hungry, and the oppressed.”[ii]

While All Saints Sunday can take us to place of remembering loved ones and the saints of the church, tempting us to get lost in those memories, what All Saints Sunday ultimately hopes to impart is that the lives we live matter.  We remember the saints of the church and the lives of our loved ones we miss because they showed us what living lives that matter looked like.  We do not honor them because they were rich or well fed or joyful or respected.  We honor them because they loved their enemies, they did good to those who hated them, they blessed those who cursed them, and prayed for those who hurt them.  We honor them because they were nonviolent, because they gave sacrificially of their wealth, because they understood that poverty makes people desperate – and because they did to others as they would have them do to them.

We could easily leave here today with the commission to “go and do likewise,” as if Jesus’ words are a simple commission.  But nothing about what Jesus is saying is simple or easy.  Several years ago, I was talking to our children about the Golden Rule – those words we hear today about doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.  To my great shock, my children did not see the wisdom of the words at all.  Instead, their desires were rooted in a sense of justice or fairness.  “No way!” one said.  “I’ll do unto others what they do to me.”  What I had understood as simple, universal wisdom that is shared among faith traditions totally flies in the face of secular, American ideals.  Even Professor Johnson says about Luke’s text today, “It is not only greed that jeopardizes the wealthy Christian’s relationship with God, but the simple – and subtle – temptation to think we can take care of ourselves.”[iii]

Luke leaves us, then, with a challenging invitation.  As you tie on a ribbon to remember a loved one today, you can certainly recall whatever fragrance of theirs you miss.  But Luke asks you to go further – to recall the witness they left to you about living a faithful life, and be emboldened to start leaving your own faithful fragrance behind too.  Lean into those who have gone before to encourage your own witness of love, compassion, and justice.  Lean into the faithful who gather beside you in person every Sunday who struggle to live that Golden Rule with gusto instead of resentment.  Lean into Jesus, who walked before us in incarnate form, leaving behind the fragrance of incense – the fragrance of humility, compassion, and sacrificial love.  With them, you can then begin to create a signature fragrance of your own that will help draw others to God.  Amen. 

[i] Marjorie Procter-Smith, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 239.

[ii] E. Elizabeth Johnson, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 239.

[iii] Johnson, 241.

On Collars, Conversations, and Casual Clothes…

10 Wednesday Sep 2025

Posted by in reflection

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Photo credit: https://medium.com/test-everything/everything-you-never-wanted-to-know-about-clerical-collars-2faa4b84c092

One of our favorite family errands is making the Costco run:  grabbing bulk supplies and some special treats to stock the house for the coming weeks.  My experience these days is mostly functional:  get in, grab items on the list, avoid being tempted by impulse purchases caused by yummy samples, and get home.  But last week I ended up near the warehouse while still in my clergy collar and decided to make a run anyway.  I do not know if it was the collar or it was a full moon, but I could not seem to get out of the warehouse without myriad encounters:  from the older gentleman who started with a question about bread and from whom I had to drag myself away ten minutes later because I think he was working out some loneliness; to the customers who either stared at or asked me directly about my collar; to the employee at check out who, without one word about my attire, asked me to pray for the staff that day. 

I have been thinking about how different that day in the store was from days when I do not wear a collar – wondering how folks might see me as a safe person to share their questions, wonderings, and concerns with or without a collar.  For some, the collar is a visual cue toward receptivity – a signal that I am a pastor even outside the church walls.  I suspect that once my collar is off, I am not necessarily putting out “Come talk to me – I welcome your thoughts, cares, and ponderings” vibes. 

Every Sunday in church we talk about taking the church out into the world.  Our dismissal says, “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”  My shopping experience made me wonder how much I limit that loving and serving.  Do I only love and serve the Lord when I’m in the mood?  Is my selective loving and serving obvious to others?  In other words, am I somehow actively shutting down loving, faithful care in daily life by masking my identity as a child of God by wearing my “casual clothes”? 

I invite your pondering with me this week about how loving and serving the Lord might mean cultivating a receptivity to loving, open, caring conversations with friends, family, and strangers (especially strangers!) alike.  We all need down time from being on at work or in our family or our volunteer roles.  But perhaps this week, we can experiment with using some of our “ordinary time” for unusual encounters – seeing people as they really are, listening more meaningfully when people reach out, pausing when others indicate they could use some of your time.  I cannot wait to hear how the shift in your week goes!

Sermon – Mark 10.17-31, P23, YB, October 13, 2024

13 Wednesday Nov 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

As we kickoff stewardship season today, I know what you must be thinking, “Wow!  Jennifer went all-in on scripture this week – she’s really trying to get us to make a big pledge this year!”  And while I would love for you to make a generous pledge this year, you know from how much I complain about the assigned lectionary over the course of the year that I had no part in choosing today’s gospel.  And, if I’m really being honest, if I could choose a passage to kickoff stewardship season, I would not have chosen this text from Mark. 

“Why?” you might ask.  Mark’s story about the wealthy man seems like the perfect tee up for stewardship.  The sermon simply could be, “You heard the words from Jesus directly – sell what you own and give the money away – preferably to your favorite local church.”  But I would not have chosen this text or that sermon – not because this text is so extreme (trust me, I am not asking you to sell everything you own), but because this text goes deeper than money.  Jesus in this text is not just challenging us to be generous givers, Jesus is asking us even bigger questions about salvation and the very nature of our relationship with God.

This story is repeated in all three gospels.  In Luke’s gospel, the man is described as a “ruler,” and in Matthew he is described as “young.”  “But for Mark he is just a regular guy, although with ‘great possessions.’”[i]  In other words, this guy is just like you and me.  Just like you and me, he is trying so very hard to live a faithful life.  Just like you and me, he is already doing the basics – loving his neighbor by following those ten commandments about how we treat one another.  And just like you and me, he is faithfully striving to live a better life – he has sought out this Jesus to learn more and to discover how to order his life so that he can be in right relationship with God.  Jesus gives him, and us, an answer – the way to right that relationship with God – to follow those ten commandments that tell us to both love neighbor and love God – is to right our relationship with money. 

As one scholar explains, “The problem is not wealth per se but our attitude toward [wealth].  As we accumulate riches, we are tempted to trust in our possession and our powers of acquiring them, rather than in God, for our ultimate security and comfort.  Even honestly acquired and generously shared wealth can thus lead to pride.  That is why it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.  It is hard to let go of the immediate basis of our security and comfort – and the more we have, the harder [letting go] gets.”[ii]  And so Jesus gives us today the ultimate spiritual discipline – to untangle our relationship with money from our relationship with God:  to see our material blessings not as a badge of honor for righteous living or hard work, but as a tool for sharing the love of Christ – an instrument to demonstrate our love of God through how we use money.

Now, I do not know what your relationship with your wealth is.  Growing up, our family did not have very much of it.  We had what we needed, but some of what we needed was gifted by a neighbor dropping off a basket of produce or a bag of hand-me-down clothing.  I knew if I wanted to go to college, I was going to need to earn some scholarships and financial aid.  The challenge with that kind of upbringing is that, as you come into your own, you realize you are now responsible for ensuring you have enough wealth not to need those gifts from neighbors and institutions.  You have to earn that wealth.  And the danger in knowing your earning of wealth is dependent upon your own blood, sweat, and tears is that you begin to think of everything you have as earned by yourself as opposed to being gifted by God – as though the gifts and talents you have were not gifted by God and enable you to then earn the wealth you need to purchase the rewards for your hard work.  And when we read stories like today’s gospel, we start to get a pit in our stomach – that small, nagging, gnawing feeling that we too might walk away grieving if Jesus were to tell us our relationship with money was interfering with our relationship with God.

That small, nagging, gnawing feeling is what leads the disciples to ask, “Who, then, has any chance at all?”  And here is where the grace comes.  Jesus basically says, “No chance at all if you think you can pull it off by yourself.  Every chance in the world if you let God do it.”[iii]  In other words, we can right our relationship with wealth, we can become peoples of generous giving only through God.  Now Jesus is not saying giving generously will not be hard.  What Jesus is saying is, “You can do hard things.” 

Last fall, one of our families had a long conversation during stewardship season.  As a couple, they handle finances independently in some areas and together in others.  Their giving to church was one of those in the areas they handled independently from one another.  After hearing a testimony from a fellow parishioner, they sat down to look at the numbers – and realized their giving didn’t reflect their theology of money.  And so, they decided to make some changes – to right-size their household budget to reflect the deep relationship with God they knew they had but that they weren’t reconciling within their wallets.  That kind of reconciling work was not easy – but their relationship with God and their membership in a faith community helped them know they could do hard things.

 This year, we have already been talking about ultimate things – about measuring what matters in our lives.  You have heard stories from parishioners about what this community means to them, and how they have come to understand that intimate relationship between their relationship with God and their relationship with their wealth.  Even talking about that small, nagging, gnawing feeling was hard for many of them.  But each one of them knew they could do the hard thing because Jesus enabled them to do so.  They knew, through God, all things were possible.  Their testimonies, Jesus’ words today, and our own desires for greater intimacy with God are the tools that enable us to do hard things:  to examine our relationship with wealth, to examine our relationship with God, and to examine our fears and feelings that hold us back from the freedom that comes from trusting in God and not in our own bootstraps.  Jesus is very plain today.  You cannot pull off right relationship by yourself.  But with God – with God, all things are possible.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

[i] David B. Howell, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 164.

[ii] James J. Thompson, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 166.

[iii] Mark 10.27 as quoted in The Message paraphrase (Eugene H. Patterson, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs:  NavPress, 2002).

Sermon – Matthew 5.1-12, AS, YA, November 5, 2023

29 Wednesday Nov 2023

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

I once served at a church that decided to support a ministry for women exiting prison.  We decided to prepare ourselves for our engagement in the ministry by reading the book The Prison Angel, about a wealthy divorcee in California who has an epiphany about her call, and eventually becomes a nun that lives in the notorious prisons of Tiajuana, Mexico, serving the men and their families.  We spent weeks reading the book, reflecting on Mother Antonia’s stories, slowly grasping the realities of prison life and those who serve them.  I was feeling energized by how well prepared our book study group would be when we finally began serving our local ministry.  But on the last day of our study, one of our participants shared, “I don’t know.  I don’t think I could ever be as self-sacrificial as Mother Antonia.  She’s sort of superhuman and I just cannot imagine living that kind of life.”  I remember feeling completely deflated – here I was trying to inspire servanthood and instead, I had made servanthood feel unattainable.

Sometimes I fear All Saints Sunday does the same thing.  Certainly, that can happen as we think of those significant saints of the church, like St. Peter, St. Francis, or Mother Teresa.  But our feelings of inadequacy can happen with the personal saints of our lives – the souls of beloved parents, lovers, children, and friends.  We remember the faithful ways they lived and only see our own failings.  And then we go and read the Beatitudes from Matthew’s gospel, we can become downright despondent.  Maybe I have mourned or felt poor in spirit.   But do I hunger and thirst for righteousness?  Am I pure in heart?  As we grieve the violence in the Middle East, have I done anything tangible to be considered peacemaking?  Has anyone ever reviled or persecuted me for the sake of Jesus?  Instead of inspiring and uplifting us today, this feast day with Matthew’s gospel has the potential to leave us feeling unworthy and unmotivated in our journey to live faithfully.

I can assure you that is not the lectionary’s intent.  In fact, after weeks of stories about discipleship in Matthew, the lectionary takes us back to the fifth chapter of Matthew for a purpose.  Perhaps we should look at what the Beatitudes are not doing today before we look at what they are doing.  The Beatitudes are not “to do” items.  As scholar Debie Thomas explains, these are not suggestions, instructions, or commandments.  There is no sense of “should,” “must,” or “ought” in these words.  We are not to walk away from these words thinking we should “try very hard to be poorer, sadder, meeker, hungrier, thirstier, purer, more peaceable, and more persecuted…”[i]  Likewise, the Beatitudes are not meant to shame us.  Jesus is not attempting to make us feel like overprivileged wretches worthy of self-condemnation.  Likewise, Jesus is not telling us to grit our teeth through whatever suffering we are living through, knowing that relief comes after death.[ii]

Instead, the Beatitudes are redefining what our modern culture might define as “#blessed.”  When we talk about being blessed, we are usually referring to our bounty or at the very least, the goodness we see in an otherwise hard world.  Instead, theologian Stanley Hauerwas explains that by declaring the poor in spirit, the mourning, the meek, the merciful, and the peacemakers as blessed, Jesus is indicating the transformed world of the kingdom of God has begun.  “Each of the Beatitudes names a gift, but it is not presumed that everyone who is a follower of Jesus will possess each beatitude.  Rather, the gifts named in the Beatitudes suggest that the diversity of these gifts will be present in the community of those who have heard Jesus’s call to discipleship.  Indeed, to learn to be a disciple is to learn why we are dependent on those who mourn or who are meek, though we may not possess that gift ourselves.”[iii]

What is particularly helpful as we read these familiar words, then, is to clarify what we me by the literal word “blessed.”  Going back to the Hebrew scriptures here will help.  There are two words for “blessing” in Hebrew:  ’ashar and barak.  Barak means to “bow or stoop.”  For example, in Psalm 103, when we say “Bless the Lord my soul,” we mean “Bow to the Lord.”  But ’ashar literally means, “to find the right road.”  So, if we go back to Beatitudes, we instead hear “You are on the right road when you are poor in spirit; You are on the right road when you hunger and thirst for righteousness; you are on the right road when you are persecuted.”  Jesus is calling his disciples to hear and walk in the way of his will for our lives.[iv]

As we remember those saints who inspire us, as we recall those loved ones who taught us about how to live faithfully, as we hear Jesus’ beautiful blessings of all kinds of experiences in life, we are reminded today not to feel guilted into a more holy life.  We simply remember that the people sitting next to you today are all different points of the faith journey, with different blessings or things that feel like curses.  Because we choose to walk together, we will learn to be faithful people that, someday, someone else will remember – that someone else will tie a ribbon onto this altar rail to remember the ways you taught them what being “#blessed” really means.  Our invitation today is to celebrate the right road, knowing the fullness of that road is only visible through the communion of saints who walk the right road together.  Amen.

[i] Debie Thomas, Into the Mess and Other Jesus Stories:  Reflections on the Life of Christ (Eugene, OR:  Cascade Books, 2022),120.

[ii] Thomas, 120-121.

[iii] Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew:  Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible (Grand Rapids:  Brazos Press, 2006), 63

[iv] Earl F. Palmer, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 238

Sermon – John 10.1-10, Acts 2.2.42-47, E4, YA, April 30, 2023

30 Tuesday May 2023

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

As a parent of young children, I often found that I mourned when certain stages ended.  One of the harder transitions was when I was no longer physically able to manhandle my children.  Before then, if a kid was refusing to move, or was throwing an epic tantrum, I could just swoop them up and manage their outburst physically.  But once I could not long hold their weight or battle those strong little arms, I realized my parenting technique was going to need a dramatic change – I was going to have to give up some control and figure out how to help both of us verbally work through what was going on in the moment.  Of course, that probably was the way I should have been parenting from the beginning, but sometimes a good swoop sure did feel good and gave me the illusion of control.

When I see images of Jesus the Good Shepherd – the biblical image we celebrate today – I find a similar sense of disappointment.  If Jesus is the Good Shepherd, I am metaphorically that helpless, probably not too bright, albeit cuddly sheep draped over Jesus’ shoulders.  That kind of image has always made me feel a little disempowered.  But this week I stumbled on a Byzantine icon[i] of Jesus Christ the Good Shepherd which shifted things for me.  Instead of a sheep draped over Jesus’ shoulders, the icon has a person draped over Jesus’ shoulders.  Their eyes are closed, their body is limp, but Jesus, complete with the nail scars in his hands and feet, seems to effortlessly be carrying this person out of the wilderness.  The image did not necessarily make me feel empowered, but the image did humanize this metaphor for me.  I could easily imagine an adult who has been walking through the valley of the shadow of death, exhausted from suffering or grief.  Or I could imagine a protective Jesus who has swooped someone out of harm’s way.  And I can definitely imagine an adult who has worn themselves out with their own tantrum.

In John’s Gospel today, Jesus is shepherding the crowd through all those scenarios.  You may remember back in Lent we got that long story from John’s gospel about the blind man Jesus heals, only to have the religious community freak out about Jesus healing on the sabbath and not believing the man had actually been blind in the first place.  Well after the blind man proclaims his desire to follow Jesus, Jesus then turns back to the community of faith and offers this explanation of his healing the blind man.  His teaching in John is actually much longer than what we hear today – in fact, Chapter 10 of John’s gospel is usually divided into three sections – all about the Good Shepherd – but a different section is appointed for each liturgical year.  In year A, we get the “I am the gate,” or door, portion of Chapter 10.  We are told that when we pass through the gate, the “good shepherd,” tends to us so that we will have life, and have life abundantly.

This passage is the “so what” of Easter.  If you remember, people have been running around, demanding proof of Jesus’ resurrection, taking whole walks with Jesus before realizing who the resurrected Jesus is.  And so, Eastertide is a celebration of the resurrection, and we spend seven weeks trying to figure out what resurrection means.  The “so what” today then is that Jesus came, died, and rose again so that we might have life, and have that life abundantly.  And if that abundant life means Jesus has to carry us out of trouble, hold us when we cannot walk on our own, or haul us over his shoulder when we are just too stubborn to accept his gift of abundant life, that is what Jesus the Good Shepherd will do.  Jesus’ resurrection matters because his resurrection reminds us of the gift of abundant life.

But that story is only part one of our “so what” today.  The rest of the “so what” of resurrection happens in our lesson from Acts today.  Since Easter we have been reading in Acts about the beginnings of the church community.  We have heard two parts of Peter’s sermon after the great day of Pentecost, where he gathers the first mega church of over 3000 people.  Now we hear the “so what” of Jesus being the gate.  You see, when Jesus becomes the gate, the door through which we pass into the protected sheepfold, you know what that gathering of the sheep looks like?  We are not disempowered, limp bodies, lying under protection.  When we pass through Jesus’ resurrection, we join a community – a community of action.[ii]  The text from Acts says of that growing body, “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”[iii]  As the community grows, they share in economic justice, sharing their wealth and caring for all equally.  They spend time together, eating with glad, generous hearts, praising God, and tending to the goodwill of all.  Jesus doesn’t just carry our limp, weary selves, and then deposit us into the world to try again.  Jesus brings us into a fold – a community of study, fellowship, communion, and prayer.

That is the beginning of your “so what” of Easter today.  We are an Easter people because Jesus gave his life so that we might have life and have that life abundantly.  As Easter people we are gifted that abundantly life so that we can enter the sheepfold of faithful community.  Your invitation today is hop off Jesus’ shoulders, walk through the gate of Jesus, and come into to a community of faith where we will study God’s word, develop meaningful relationships, come together around the common table, and pray.  When we gather in that kind of community, when we are fed mentally, physically, and spiritually, then we fueled for the rest of the “so what” of Easter.  Once nurtured in that generous, abundant community, we are led back out through the gate that is Jesus, better able to love and serve the Lord out in the world.  Thanks be to God!

[i] As found at https://www.etsy.com/listing/856250878/hand-painted-byzantine-icon-of-jesus?gpla=1&gao=1&&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=shopping_us_a-home_and_living-spirituality_and_religion-other&utm_custom1=_k_Cj0KCQjwgLOiBhC7ARIsAIeetVDhfiQo66BpPPH4Bg02sff293o0Q8_YqIhIUuxfVbEDRA8-6wbArd0aAg3OEALw_wcB_k_&utm_content=go_12559942249_120251207180_506897847531_pla-302895540136_c__856250878_122003557&utm_custom2=12559942249&gclid=Cj0KCQjwgLOiBhC7ARIsAIeetVDhfiQo66BpPPH4Bg02sff293o0Q8_YqIhIUuxfVbEDRA8-6wbArd0aAg3OEALw_wcB on April 29, 2023.

[ii] The idea of what life is like in the sheepfold is articulated by Matt Skinner in “Sermon Brainwave:  #901: Fourth Sunday of Easter (Year A) – April 30, 2023,” April 23, 2023, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/901-fourth-sunday-of-easter-year-a-april-30-2023 on April 29, 2023.

[iii] Acts 2.42-47.

The Pilgrim’s Way…Day 2

08 Saturday Feb 2020

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

85013051_2883674765022098_7674431015430914048_n

Photo credit:  Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly; reuse with permission only

Sixteen pilgrims from Hickory Neck Church traveled to England for 8 days of pilgrimage.  Our focus was on choral music, hearing Evensong or Choral Mass at a Cathedral, Minster, or college everyday.  This is the second entry, initially posted on our church Facebook page.  For those of you who do not follow us on Facebook, I am repeating the journey’s daily entries here.  Enjoy!

Norwich

Today I was struck by the witness of women in the church. First, was Julian of Norwich (1300’s), the first woman to write a book in English, whose spiritual counsel and writing have inspired generations. Then, Edith Cavell, a nurse in WWI, who helped free around 200 allied soldiers before being martyred for her work. Then, seeing the female dean of Norwich Cathedral, bringing the Cathedral community out into the streets in the 21st Century.

I confess, when I saw the Passion of Edith Cavell, my sacrilege antennae went up. But what I began to see as I stared at those paintings was that no matter your gender, no matter your era, no matter your gifts (Julian likely had to learn to write before writing her book), God can, and will, so powerful things through each of us, when we let God. We may not be a Julian or an Edith, but we will be a Sarah, a Lisa, a Lorna, and maybe even a Jennifer. I can’t wait to see you embrace your call and see how your faithful living in the world inspires others. 

84986335_2883674775022097_6091739990671228928_n

Photo credit:  Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly; reuse with permission only

One “Why” of Church…

22 Wednesday Jan 2020

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A few months back, a commenter on my blog asked why people even need to go to church.  I have thought of hundreds of reasons, and could probably write a whole series of posts about that question.  But this week, one of those reasons became very clear to me.  One of reasons being a part of a church community is so important is because being a part of a church community teaches members how to be in meaningful, faithful, sacred relationships with others.

Certainly, scripture teaches us humans are made in the image of God, and that our creation was very good.  Scripture also teaches us to love God, love ourselves, and love our neighbor.  And there is much scripture that teaches us what community means, the value of every person to making the community whole, and what behaviors are needed to be loving people made in the image of God.

Now, I know the Church and her leaders have often failed at living in that specifically Christian way.  But belonging to a church means you are committing to trying to live the life of love intentionally, authentically, and humbly.  The Church is where we learn how to lovingly live through conflict.  The Church is where we learn how to kneel at the altar rail right next to someone who has hurt us, who disagrees with us, who has challenged us, and see the commonality in our outstretched arms, waiting for the healing body of Christ.  The Church is where we learn how to say, “I’m sorry,” “I was wrong,” “I messed up,” and “I forgive you.”  The Church is the place where we can hold the fragility of human experience, the sinful nature of each of us, and the beauty of God’s creation in tension, and experience the depths of love known only through the eyes of Christ.

Maybe Church is not a place like that for you.  For me, the Church makes me a better human being, and a better child of God.  The Church keeps me honest, loves me when I do not deserve it, and molds me into a servant of God who can share that same life-giving, liberating love with others.  I am so grateful to be a part of a church, so honored to be a priest in the Church, and so overwhelmed by the power of love I find powerfully within the community of the Church.  If that is a not a gift you have received, I invite you to my church, anytime.  If that is a gift you have received, I invite you to give thanks to God for God’s gift of the Church to us.  And if you are giving thanks this week for your own church experience, I encourage you to give that gift to someone else.

On Letting Go and Listening…

16 Wednesday May 2018

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Our church is currently being blessed with a lot of activity.  This week, the site for the school that will join our property has begun construction.  Footers are ready to be dug and the foundation laid.  Meanwhile, this weekend, we are hosting our second Annual High Fiber Festival.  Volunteers are being recruited, parking layouts are being designed, and signs are being hung for this great event that raises money for outreach ministries.  Both events are wonderful signs of vitality and life at Hickory Neck – and yet both events have been the victim of all sorts of things out of their control.  Permit approvals delayed construction at the school.  Delays in school construction have created challenges for parking at the Festival.  And now rain seems to be threatening progress and success for both.

I have been thinking that both projects seem to be challenging my long-held battle with control.  As I imagine many of us do, I sometimes fall under the illusion that more things are under my control than actually are.  I consider myself a pretty faithful Christian, but when issues like control arise, I realize how far I have to go.  I think that phrase, “Let go and let God,” was written for me!  Lord knows, I cannot control the rain!

That is why I love that we get the Acts lesson for Pentecost this Sunday.  Talk about a people whose life are completely out of control!  If the cross, death, resurrection, and ascension were not enough to make the disciples realize they are not in control, perhaps Pentecost would be.  I imagine the disciples were finally getting their feet on the ground and preparing themselves to take up Jesus’ mantle of spreading the Good News.  But none of them could have prepared for the dramatic event of breaking into tongues all at once.

What I love about Pentecost though is everyone hears in the din of noise.  Despite the chaos and seeming utter loss of control, those gathered can hear clearly.  I wonder if that might be an invitation for us this week – to look at the chaos and situations in our lives that seem out of control and see where we hear God’s voice.  Maybe God’s voice is speaking to us directly.  Maybe God’s voice is speaking to us through a wise friend or confidant.  Maybe God’s voice is speaking to us through strangers or the seeming “coincidences,” of life.  I’d love to hear your stories of where you have heard God this week!

Singing-In-The-Rain-red-umbrella

Photo credit:  https://www.voices.com/blog/4-lessons-singing-in-the-rain/

Sermon – Daniel 3:14-20,24-28, John 8:31–42, Ecumenical Eucharist, March 21, 2018

23 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in Sermons, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

This sermon was preached at Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Norge, Virginia.  Each week in Lent, one of the churches from the Upper James City County Ministerium hosts a worship service and welcomes a guest preacher from another church.  It has been a wonderful experience in the exchange of worship, and has made all our church members feel more connected with the community.  

**********

One of my favorite gospel songs is a song called, Jesus Can Work It Out.  There are lots of versions of the song, but the basic tenet of the song is that whenever you have a problem that you cannot seem to solve, you can give the problem over to the Lord and the Lord will work the problem out.  In the version of the song in my iTunes, the lead singer talks about a variety of problems that she has had over her life that, as soon as she gave them over to the Lord, God worked the problems out.  In one example she talks about how she and the choir went on tour and when she came back home, she had a foreclosure notice.  Overcome with grief, she says she turned the situation over to the Lord and the Lord worked it out.

Now I love this song – mostly because not only does the song encourage me to trust God, but also because the song has a way of getting your toes tapping.  But every time I hear the part about the foreclosure, I cannot help thinking, “I mean, I get trusting the Lord, but I am pretty sure you knew you had not paid the mortgage before you decided to go on tour.  I mean there is trust and there is TRUST.”

That is what I think is so interesting about our two readings today.  They represent two different extremes when we talk about the role of trust in our relationship with God.  The first is the vivid and dramatic story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  King Nebuchadnezzar has captured the three men and insists they worship his gods and his statue or face a fiery death.  When the three men refuse, the king has them thrown into the furnace, turned up seven times as high as normal.  But much to the king’s surprise, not only do the men survive, they seem to be dancing around in the flames with Yahweh.  When the men come out untouched by the flames, not even smelling of smoke, King Nebuchadnezzar concedes and decides to worship their God instead of his gods. This fantastic story is a story of how, even in the face of persecution and death, faithfulness, trust, and loyalty to our God will make you victorious, even in impossible situations.

Meanwhile, in our gospel text, the faithful are equally trusting of God, but in this instance, their trust and confidence is ill-placed.  You see, Jesus has gathered people who are following him and begins to talk about who he is in relation to God.  When Jesus starts talking about to whom the people belong, and that God is doing a new thing in Jesus Christ, the followers become obstinate.  “We are descendants of Abraham…Abraham is our father,” they protest  What is funny about this exchange between Jesus and the faithful is that on the surface, the faithful are doing the same thing Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego do.  They are staying true to their God, despite the fact that this new teacher and prophet is asking them to see something new in what God is doing.  But in their case, we can see that Jesus does not see their faithfulness and trust as a virtue, but instead a hinderance to seeing the work of the Holy Spirit in something new.  Unlike Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego’s story, this story seems to be about how we should hold tightly to what God has taught us, but not so tightly that we lose touch with when God is doing a new thing.  We are to be loyal and trusting, but also discerning and open.

I do not know about you, but I find myself lost in these lessons.  When am I supposed to be so faithful that I am willing to face death (or foreclosure on my mortgage), and when am I supposed to be so faithful that I am willing to abandon what I know about my God and my identity to follow a new way?  When I was figuring out my vocation as a priest, I struggled.  The first step was getting over the hurdle of saying yes to a call to ordained ministry at all.  You see, my dad was a United Methodist minister, and I had sworn that I would never go into the ministry.  But once I finally was able to say yes, then came the hard part.  You see, I was called in the context of the Episcopal Church.  But not only was my father a United Methodist Minister.  His father was a United Methodist Minister.  And my grandfather’s brothers were United Methodist Ministers, and my uncle was a United Methodist Chaplain, and my cousins were United Methodist ministers.  At Annual Conference every year, there was a whole Andrews section.  So what I was dreading was telling my grandmother that I was breaking ranks.  My grandmother is pretty intense.  As a former librarian and English teacher, I was actually pretty intimidated by her most of my childhood.  Eventually I gathered up my nerve and had a talk with her.  As soon as I told her the news she gave out a huff.  And then she leaned in toward me and said, “I was a Lutheran before I married your grandfather.  I never wanted to be a Methodist anyway!”

Here’s the thing about following God – when we follow God, we get confirmation along the way.  I do not think that Jesus was asking his followers to abandon Abraham and trust in him alone.  Instead, I think Jesus was reminding them that if Abraham was their father, they would actually follow Abraham’s example.  Instead of clinging to an old, stable identity, they needed to remember that the main thing Abraham was known for was abandoning his old life and going to a new, scary place, and following God.  Jesus is not mad at his followers because they are clinging to the past.  Jesus is mad at his followers because they are clinging to a distorted version of the past – they are clinging to security instead of remembering the past is what taught them that sometimes they need to get up, drop everything, and go.  Sometimes they need to take a risk and say no to a worldly power who wants them to abandon who they are and what they are called to be.  These two stories are not about examples of total trust versus a lack of trust.  The two stories remind us that trusting God will lead us to uncomfortable places, will challenge our sense that we know God best, and will sometimes make us dance.

Our collect or prayer appointed for this last Wednesday before we begin Holy Week says, “Almighty God our heavenly Father, renew in us the gifts of your mercy; increase our faith, strengthen our hope, enlighten our understanding, widen our charity, and make us ready to serve you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”  We leave this sacred place tonight, not with a sense that we need to dramatically follow Christ into the flames or be considered faithlessly unwilling to go where God calls us.  Instead, these stories remind us that we can always stand to increase our faith, strengthen our hope, enlighten our understanding, widen our charity, and be made ready to serve.  We all know we need that work because that is the work we have been doing all Lent – working on our faithful walk with Christ.  What these stories remind us of is we have companions along the way – companions who are bold and fearless, companions who have messed up, and companions who may not even go to our own church, but who know our same journey and our same God.  Christ renews us in his mercy tonight, so that we can keep saying yes to God.  Amen.

Sermon – Mark 1.14-20, Jonah 3.1-3, 10, EP3, YB, January 21, 2018

24 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by in Sermons, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

What is fun about our lessons from last week and this week is we get two different gospellers’ versions of Jesus’ first call to the disciples.  Last week, in John’s gospel, we got that great story of Philip and Nathaniel.  When Philip is asked to follow Jesus, he runs to find Nathaniel.  They have this great conversation about whether anything good can come from Nazareth.  Nathaniel reluctantly comes, and when he finally speaks with Jesus, he is amazed at what Jesus knows about him.  In the midst of community, conversation, and collaboration, both Philip and Nathaniel are able to say yes to Jesus’ invitation to discipleship.  On the other hand, Mark’s gospel paints a very different picture of the calling of the disciples.  Mark tells us Jesus passes two sets of brothers by the seashore, and instructs them to follow him.  Both sets of brothers drop what they are in the middle of doing.  In fact, the second set of brothers wordlessly abandon their father to follow Jesus.  No conversations or discernment; no collaboration or goodbyes.  In Mark’s gospel, Jesus invites, and disciples drop everything immediately and go.

I do not know about you, but I am actually in the John camp when we are talking about discipleship.  As an extrovert, I tend to process things aloud.  I need to talk through a problem with others to figure out what the best option might be.  I like to get input from others, using them as sounding boards to make sure my decision will have a positive impact.  I like to marinate on the feedback, pray a bit, share my leanings with a confidant or two, and then act.  So the idea of Nathaniel hemming and hawing, expressing his initial doubt with Philip, and then challenging Jesus when he seems to have some insight about Nathaniel seems totally relatable to me.  I need conversation, community, and collaboration, especially if I am going to drop everything important in life and follow someone in a new direction.

In some ways, I may even be closer to Jonah when we are talking about discipleship.  We hear only a small part from Jonah’s riveting story today, but what we might all remember is Jonah is a terrible follower of God.  The first two chapters of Jonah are filled with Jonah saying “yes” to God, and then totally running in the opposite direction.  He even endangers some total strangers when he boards a boat in the opposite direction of Nineveh.  He needs to be swallowed by a large fish, facing death and shame before he is willing to do what God has asked Jonah to do.

Many of you have heard this before, but my own call narrative was neither immediate nor direct.  When I first sensed a call to ministry in college, I avoided it.  I figured, maybe I could just volunteer for a year instead.  I loved working at a Food Bank that year, but figured, maybe I should work at a faith-based non-profit instead.  That would certainly count as serving God, right?!?  And then, when that did not feel totally right, I started to look at going to school – not for a Masters in Divinity, but maybe to study theology.  You know, try to learn about God, but not to be a minister.  Even when my priest suggested ordination it took me another whole year of talking to other people, reading countless books, prayer, and going on retreat before I could say yes.  Clearly, my identification with Nathaniel and Jonah is not unfounded.

But today’s lessons are nothing like my tendencies.  The portion of Jonah that we get today does not highlight any of Jonah’s dramatic avoidance and foibles.  Instead, when Jonah offers the shortest sermon ever, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown,” immediately, the people of Nineveh believe God, proclaim a fast, and everyone – everyone great and small – puts on sackcloth.  To understand the significance of this response by Nineveh, we need to remember that Nineveh is no saint.  They are a great kingdom of people who have been oppressing God’s chosen for ages.  They are tyrants, powermongers, and bullies.  No one scares Nineveh.  And yet, with Jonah’s sermon of judgment, they stop immediately, take on a fast, and repent of their ways.  No debates, no town hall meetings, no consultation with the king.  In fact, in the verses we do not read today, the king even proclaims that the livestock need to be put in sackcloth.  The repentance of Nineveh is total and immediate.

We see the parallels in Mark’s gospel today.  The two sets of brothers we read about, Simon and Andrew and James and John sound very similar.  They are both in the fishing industry, they are both working on nets, and they both respond immediately to Jesus’ invitation to follow him.  But there are some subtle differences that make their stories even more powerful.  You see, Simon Peter and Andrew are fishing from the shore with leaded nets.  They are fishermen, but not very wealthy ones.  Meanwhile James and John are from a higher socioeconomic status.  James and John have a boat and hired workers.  They are fishing by dragnet method, which means they are able to harvest much larger catches.[i]  Their father is also mentioned, which likely means their family has been at this business for generations.  And yet, despite the fact that James are John are in the midst of a long-standing, thriving business, both James and John and Simon Peter and Andrew have the same response to Jesus.  They drop everything immediately and go.

I wonder when you have similarly acted with immediacy to God’s call on you.  The moments do not have to be as dramatic as walking out of the classroom, office, or house without a word to anyone.  Maybe they were moments around giving to the church or a cause.  Maybe they were moments when you offered help to a stranger, knowing full well you were going to be late to your next engagement.  Maybe you called a Congress member or State Representative because your faith could no longer tolerate inaction on an issue.  Maybe you heard the volunteer sexton was retiring, and you said, “Here I am.”  Or maybe your immediacy was in getting out of bed one day and finally stepping in the doors of a church – because you needed a community to help you figure out this voice that was calling you to something new.  At some point all of us hear Jesus say, “Follow me.”

Now you may be sitting there thinking, “I have never said yes to that voice,” or “Most of the time I feel like a failure in following Jesus.”  The good news is that you are not alone.  Despite the fact that Simon Peter, Andrew, John, and James all behave exemplary today, we know as we read more of Mark’s gospel, that these are the same men who will fail time and again in their faith.  These are the same men who will deny Jesus, will argue about feeding five thousand people, will try to hold on to Jesus, and will vie for favor with Jesus.  Yes, today, they say yes immediately and they drop everything they have ever known and step out and follow Jesus.  But tomorrow they stumble, and keep stumbling their entire journey with Christ.

What our texts remind us of today is, as one scholar puts it, “Becoming a faithful Christian disciple takes both a moment and a lifetime.”[ii]  We are not going to feel emboldened to follow Jesus every day.  We are not going to abandon our families and our way of life every day.  There will be moments, hard days when we need courage and reassurance.  On those days, we can remember the moments when we said yes and answered the call.  We can recall with encouragement, on those days when we do not feel very faithful, the days when in fact we were entirely faithful.  And if we are struggling to hold onto those “yes” moments, we remember that we are called in community.[iii]  Whether the entire city of Nineveh was acting together, or disciples were called in pairs, our ability to answer God faithfully is usually done within the context of community – within a group of people who can remind us of our faithful days, and let us go when we need follow.  We are not alone in this adventure of following Jesus.  And that is good news!  Amen.

[i] Daniel J. Harrington, ed., The Gospel of Mark, Sacra Pagina Series, vol. 2 (Collegeville, MN:  The Liturgical Press, 2002), 76.

[ii] Elton W. Brown, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 286.

[iii] Karoline Lewis, “You are Never Alone,” January 14, 2018, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5044 on January 18, 2017.