Tag Archives: Good News

Evangelism joy…

28 Thursday May 2015

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This Monday our parish walked in our local Memorial Day Parade.  I did a lot of cajoling to get our parishioners out among the community that day.  But I must admit, that morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed.  I had experienced some sleepless nights with the little one, Monday is normally my day off and walking in the parade would mean losing not just my day off but a holiday too, and it is a rare weekday that I get to have my whole family together.  So despite all my haranguing about our need to evangelize, all I wanted to do was stay in bed (or at least stay in my pajamas, since little ones do not believe in sleeping in around our house).

But as soon as the crowds began to gather, I realized how good God is.  While walking to the parade, we ran into one of my daughter’s friends from kindergarten.  Later, we ran into the clergy and staff of our neighboring Lutheran church and preschool, who had not seen our youngest child since our preschooler graduated last spring.  I found myself introducing St. Margaret’s parishioners to non-church friends.  We managed to gather the largest number of parishioners to ever walk the parade.  And, quite honestly, I had fun.

That’s the funny thing about evangelism.  We get all nervous about what will happen.  We wonder what we will say.  We fret about how people will react when we talk about church.  We worry it will be awkward.  But Monday gave me a renewed spirit for sharing the Good News.  Sharing your joy about church isn’t really all that awkward.  In fact, it tends to segue into other conversations, because joy is contagious.  Thanks for reminding me about my joy, St. Margaret’s!  Let’s do it again soon!

Sermon – Acts 2.1-21, PT, YB, May 24, 2015

28 Thursday May 2015

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There is something quite comforting about coming into the doors of a church.  There is a peace that comes over us when we enter the doors.  Despite the fact that a wooden bench would not be all that comfortable any other time, the sleek, hard pews give us a sense of stability and security.  The familiar motions of the liturgy give us just enough variety to keep us engaged, but enough similarity to give us a sense of comfort.  The distinct texture and taste of the bread and wine in our mouths somehow fill our entire bodies with tranquility.  When those doors close behind us, we feel protected from the outside world – a world that is noisy, harsh, and sometimes cruel.  Inside the doors we find warmth, calm, and serenity.  Slipping into the church is like slipping under a soft blanket that envelops us in security.

We are not unlike those disciples on Pentecost day.  The disciples had made a habit of retreating indoors ever since Jesus died.  Even though the miracle of Easter had happened, almost every time Jesus makes a resurrection appearance, the disciples are behind closed doors.  In fact, on the feast of Pentecost, the disciples were supposed be having a party with the rest of the community to celebrate the giving of God’s law.  But instead, we find them cowering once again in one room behind a bolted door.[i]  I suppose we cannot be too judgmental.  They saw firsthand what happened to Jesus.  Though his ministry had been revolutionary, he was tortured and killed like a common criminal.  Surely anyone associated with him or promoting his ministry and witness would receive similar treatment.  And we cannot forget their shame.  Though they had vied to be at his right and left hand during his ministry, and though they fawned over him when he was making an impact, when push came to shove, they all abandoned him.  And Peter was the worst.  Though he did not betray Jesus like Judas, he basically did the same thing.  In fact, his betrayal may have been worse because he vowed – swore to Jesus and everyone – that he would never, ever betray Jesus.  But he did betray him.  Over and over he denied he even knew the man who was an intimate friend and mentor.  We would probably be hiding behind closed doors too, trying to cover our shame.  Even with all the promises Jesus makes, and the ways he keeps appearing to the disciples, they just cannot seem to get over that hurdle of their shame and fear to step out into the light.

Maybe that is what the community of Christ would have been – a community that gathers in the shadows – had Pentecost not happened.  In the comfort of closed rooms that envelop like a warm blanket, they would whisper stories from the good ol’ days.  They could even develop some rituals just for their members – Jesus had taught them about washing feet and eating the Eucharistic meal.  In fact, maybe they could use that as a recruiting technique.  If word gets whispered around that they are gathering in the quiet, then maybe others will seek them out and ask to join them.  Maybe they do not need to go out like Jesus said and share the good news.  Maybe people will come to them.  They could even figure out a symbol – like a red door – to let everyone know how to find them.

Ah, but you see, God had other things in mind for those disciples.  I wonder sometimes how God ever puts up with us.  God tried for the longest to be in covenant with God’s people.  Over and over again God delivered them from peril.  Over and over again, God renewed God’s covenant with the people, even though they kept breaking that covenant.  Over and over again God chased after the people, longing to gather them like a mother hen.  God even went so far as to send Jesus, to be present among the people in flesh form, and died on a cross to redeem God’s people.  Even after the miracle of the resurrection, after destroying death forever, God’s people still sit hovered in fear, having forgotten all the ways that Jesus wanted them to live boldly.[ii]

And so, on this day, because they clearly could not muster that boldness themselves, something – or someone – breaks down the door – breaks down the walls – and explodes inside the disciples.  A violent, rushing wind fills the room and bursts the doors open.  Different languages – languages they had never spoken before – erupt out of their mouths.  The text says that the people are bewildered, amazed, astonished, and perplexed.  But the Greek text is much more vivid.  The original text says they are “confused, in an uproar, beside themselves, undone, blown away, thoroughly disoriented, completely uncomprehending.”  [You can imagine the chaos from just hearing the chaos of our reading today.]  No longer do the disciples hover in a darkened room.  They are loudly, boldly in the public square talking nonsense – and yet sounding perfectly clear to those gathered.  Even Peter, the one with the most to be ashamed of, the one who probably feels like the deepest failure, on this day manages to become all that Jesus intended for him to be.  When the disciples meet resistance and sneering, Peter stands up and does what he was meant to do all along.  He testifies.  He testifies in public, in the midst of scary chaos, and says the words that have been on his heart since Jesus died.  He proclaims hope, and promise, and fulfillment.  He steps out of the shadows and steps into the light.

How do they do it?  How do the disciples manage to get over their fear and shame and go out into the public square?  Well, they certainly do not do it alone.  The only way they are able to conquer their fear and shame and step boldly into the public square with their testimony is through the Holy Spirit.  Most of us do not really feel comfortable with the Holy Spirit.  We use words like the “Advocate” or the “Comforter” to describe the Holy Spirit.  We think of the Holy Spirit as the one who remains with us after Jesus is gone.  But in our text today, the Holy Spirit is not comforting.  In fact, the Holy Spirit is disturbing, disruptive, and life-changing.  As one scholar says, “The Holy Spirit is as much agitator as advocate, as much provocateur as comforter.”[iii]  In fact, the word in Greek for the Holy Spirit is Paraclete.  That word may be our best way to understand how this all words.  Paraclete is a compound Greek word that literally means, “to come alongside another.”  “In this sense, the Paraclete can be an advocate – to come along side to defend and counsel – or comforter – to come along side to provide comfort and encouragement.  But the one who comes along side might also do so to strengthen you for work, or to muster your courage, or to prompt or even provoke you to action.”[iv]

Last weekend at the Vestry Retreat, our facilitator gave us a challenge at lunch.  She gave us all an assignment.  We had to go up to a stranger in Panera and ask them whether they knew of an Episcopal Church in Plainview.  You should have seen the furrowed brows and the shifting in our chairs most of us did.  You should have heard the bargaining many of us did, promising to do it another day.  We’re not alone in our discomfort.  Tomorrow, you all have been invited to walk with us in the POB Memorial Day Parade to promote St. Margaret’s in the community.  Many of us have valid excuses for not going – the walk is rather long and some of us are out of town for the holiday.  But many of us just do not feel comfortable being the face of the church – giving witness to total strangers.  And that is not the only challenge before us.  Just this week, we posted the baseball schedule for the Little League team we are sponsoring.  The idea is for us not just to have our name in print on a big sign in the outfield.  The idea is also that we meet people where they are – at a baseball field at the POB Community Park on a Saturday afternoon – and just say hi.  We listen to their stories and we share ours.  I know that most of us will not get up the nerve to go sit with a bunch of strangers.  In fact, when we decided to sponsor the team and invite parishioners to go to games, one parishioner told me explicitly, “Oh, St. Margaret’s parishioners won’t go to a game.  They just won’t.”

Today we sit inside, huddled together in a place of comfort and familiarity.  We even painted our doors red and we hope people will find their way to us so that they might enjoy the beauty of St. Margaret’s as we do.  But our church is inviting us again and again to get out of that nostalgic pew, to go out in public, and proclaim the good news.  How in the world will we do it?  Amen.

[i] William H. Willimon, “Taking It to the Streets,” Christian Century, vol. 108, no. 15, May 1, 1991, 483.

[ii] Rob Merola, “Radical Reliance,” Christian Century, vol. 123, no. 11, May 30, 2006, 22.

[iii] David Lose, “Pentecost B: Come Alongside, Holy Spirit!” May 18, 2015, as found on May 20, 2015 at http://www.davidlose.net/2015/05/pentecost-b-come-alongside-holy-spirit/.

[iv] Lose.

Sermon – Matthew 13.1-9, 18-23, P10, YA, July 13, 2014

16 Wednesday Jul 2014

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Growing up as the child of a rural Methodist Minister, there was never a lack of fresh produce in our home.  Now that was not because my family went to the grocery store a lot or because we grew our own vegetables, but because multiple times per week, we would find a brown bag sitting on our porch, full of produce from parishioner’s gardens or farms.  Sometimes we knew who they came from, but sometimes they were entirely unmarked bags just waiting for us.  And sometimes people caught us at home so we were able to thank them properly.  But my favorite bags of food came from a local farmer and church member named Frank.  Frank was a funny guy – always wearing his overalls, with a bandana hanging out of his back pocket.  Frank had lived on farms his whole life, and he had a funny way of talking about the farm.  Anytime we tried to thank him for the tomatoes, squash, or cucumbers, he would just scoff and tell us that they were some of Old Bessie’s volunteers.

Bessie was his tractor.  Frank used Bessie to seed his fields, but Bessie was temperamental.  The device that shot the seeds into the field did not really operate properly – it would turn off and on at will, and so Frank always tried to get Bessie into position as quickly as possible before she start spewing seeds.  But invariably, Bessie would spray seeds in the barn, in the ditch on the way to the fields, along the roadside, and even by their house.  Though he would curse and yell at Old Bessie, Frank never seemed to get the glitch fixed, and I guess he loved Bessie too much to trade up for a new one.  Consequently, he would get “volunteer” plants all over his property.  Instead of pulling them up, as they grew and produced all over his property, his youngest sons had to go around and pick them.  These “volunteers” from Bessie were the producers of much of the food we ate throughout the summer and fall.

In a lot of ways, I think the sower in Jesus’ parable today is a lot like Bessie the tractor.  Jesus says that the sower throws seed all over the place – on the path, on rocky ground, among thorns, and in good soil.  By farming standards, the sower is pretty awful at his job.  Most farmers and gardeners are quite careful about how and where they plant.  For those of you not involved in our own community garden here at St. Margaret’s you may not know that they spent quite a long time planning and researching for our garden.  They thought through where the best sunlight would be, how deep the bed should be, what kind of soil to put into the raised bed, and what kind of weed cover to put down.  They even managed to secure some fox urine pellets to spread around the box to deter rabbits from eating all our hard work.  Nowhere in the planning did our Garden Committee suggest we just take some seeds and throw them around the property and see what happens.  And yet this is what the sower seems to be doing in Jesus’ parable today.

The question is why the sower sows seed in such a seemingly wasteful way.  The sower must know that seeds do not get a chance to grow when they are so exposed that birds will eat them before they can germinate.  The sower must know that the soil is not deep enough in the rocky areas to take good healthy root.  The sower must know that thorns usually choke out plants, not letting them grow to full maturity.  So why does the sower not simply save the seed for the healthiest soil?

The scarier part of that question is the next natural question.  Why would Jesus also recommend that the disciples spread the Good News in such a haphazard way too?  When Jesus explains the meaning of his parable, he explains that when they share the Good News, there are going to be times when their sharing feels like fruitless sowing.  The devil is going to come in, people’s enthusiasm is going to wane over time, and others will simply be distracted by the cares of the world.  Very few will actually receive the Good News and flourish and thrive.  And yet Jesus seems to be saying, “Sew the seeds of the Good News with abandon anyway.”

Jesus’ advice to the disciples goes against any sound business practices.  I have been a part of many dioceses who do church planting, and in every case they spend years examining the numbers and making plans.  They look for areas of new population growth, where young families are moving in or are already present, where Episcopal Churches have not yet been built, and where there are many who are unchurched.  They develop carefully constructed publicity campaigns and gimmicks to spread the news about the newly forming church.  Billboards, paper ads, new websites, and promotional events are planned.  Nothing about church planting today is like what Jesus is talking about in this parable.  In fact, many of you have had similar feelings about church growth here in Plainview.  Many of you have expressed the sentiment that church growth in Plainview is pretty much a waste since our community has such a large Jewish population.  And of those neighbors who aren’t Jewish, the rest are Catholic.  So instead of throwing our precious evangelism budget away in our neighborhood, many have encouraged me to either figure out different neighborhoods or to target other towns altogether.

So what is Jesus really suggesting and why do we not seem to want to listen?  On Memorial Day weekend, about twenty parishioners walked in the Plainview Memorial Day Parade, promoting St. Margaret’s.  Two faithful parishioners dressed up as garden vegetables to help us advertise the work of our Garden of Eatin’.  As we walked along, we handed out seed packets and small brochures about St. Margaret’s.  Before the parade began, I remember wondering whether anyone would want our handouts.  I know people love to catch candy and other trinkets, but I could not imagine anyone actually being interested in what we had to offer.  I made a point to watch to see if my theory was right.  As I expected, a few people said “No, thank you,” when offered our handout.  However, I was almost shocked when I noticed that several people gladly took our handouts – in fact one woman specifically asked if she could have one.

What I, and probably many of us, would judge as rocky or thorny soil, actually turned out to be good soil.  That is what Jesus is hoping to get the disciples and us to see.  We can never know what different soils will do.  When we share the Good News, we have no way of knowing what kind of soil we are sowing seeds into.  In fact, I would be willing to guess that many times we often judge soil incorrectly.  And since we are probably not the best soil experts, Jesus instead tells us to sow with abandon – to throw our good news all over the place because you never know when a hand might extend toward us, wanting some of the good news we have to share.  That is a part of the fun!

For years I have suspected that Farmer Frank never repaired Bessie on purpose.  I think he enjoyed the mystery of where the tractor’s seeds would germinate and grow.  He liked sharing the abundance of that crazy tractor.  He liked teaching his children about volunteer plants and the importance of sharing God’s blessings.  And he especially enjoyed spying his neighbors who would stop along the road and pick some extra squash or tomatoes, because they knew Frank and Bessie would not mind.  Bessie made all of that possible, and to repair her would have been to take some of the joy and blessing out of life.

This is the invitation of Jesus to us today:  to be like an erratic, haphazard, wasteful sower of good news.  Yes, you might be known as that crazy lady or guy who talks about God too much.  And, yes, your words might fall on deaf ears or be forgotten tomorrow.  But occasionally, your words will be just the words that someone needed to hear that day.  Your reckless sharing of your blessed experiences with God might just be the food someone was longing for.  In time, you may just find that being a crazy sower of good news is kind of fun, and brings you as much fruit as it brings others.  Amen.

On discomfort…

26 Wednesday Feb 2014

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I have regularly told people that when I preach, I am preaching to myself.  I find that my messages often resonate with others, but first and foremost, I make sure they resonate with me.  This has led to me needing to be honest about my faith struggles, to be vulnerable about how I still need to grow, and always seeking how God is speaking in fresh ways to me, calling me into deeper relationship with God.

This Sunday though, I found myself with a profound sense of conviction that I have yet to experience.  My sermon was about Matthew 5.38-48, and can be found here.  But what you would not know is that between our 8 am service and our 10 am service, a neighbor in need stopped by to ask if for financial assistance.  I had spoken with this neighbor before, and helped by covering the neighbor’s rent within the last month.  In general, I am able to help neighbors in similar situations because of my discretionary fund – a fund supported by the church and by contributions when I perform weddings or funerals.  But the fund is not large, and so my general policy is to keep within a certain range for each distribution of funds and to only offer assistance to the same family once every six months.  The idea behind the policy is that this allows me to help more families, and keeps enough monies in the fund for emergencies.  So when this neighbor came on Sunday, asking for further assistance, nowhere near the normal six-month wait period, the case seemed cut and dry to me.  I could not offer him what I would not offer to others.  Instead, I gave the neighbor some referrals for additional help, and we lit a prayer candle and prayed together before the neighbor left.

But the tricky part was getting back in the pulpit at 10 am.  I had just read aloud Jesus’ words from the gospel lesson, “Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.”  And I preached about seeing others with God’s loving eyes.  And though I felt like I was preaching the right message, and I know that ultimately I did the right thing with our neighbor, I still felt a little sick to my stomach.  As one who proclaims the Gospel, I felt like a hypocrite.  I remember wondering how if our neighbor had stayed for worship, whether the neighbor would have thought I was a hypocrite too.  And yet, I also felt an overwhelming sense that any kind of exceptions I had made that day would have undermined my ministry in our community.

I still have not come to peace about the situation.  I do not have some clean, clear answer that makes the situation feel resolved or redeemable, even if I still feel I made the right decision.  But in these last days, I have been thinking that perhaps my discomfort is the point.  I try regularly to find the Good News in scripture – to find where the hope might be in seemingly challenging or bad news.  But perhaps this week it is okay if I am just uncomfortable.  Perhaps we all need to dwell in the discomfort that the Gospel creates from time to time – only then can we be more authentic followers of Christ.

A spark…

29 Wednesday May 2013

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One of the things we have been looking at as a parish is how to more intentionally engage in evangelism.  The conversation has not been easy.  We have all been victim of an overzealous religious person who has made us feel uncomfortable.  A few of us have hidden behind closed curtains from someone knocking at our door to share their testimony.  Some of us have crossed on the opposite side of the street from the guy with a Bible, a loud voice, and a handful of tracts.  And of course, we ourselves have begun to overcompensate, avoiding talking about our faith altogether in non-church circles for fear of becoming “that guy.”

But we have been prayerfully working on seeing evangelism not as uncomfortable, out-of-touch haranguing, but as a grace-filled conversation about the goodness and grace of God in our lives.  We have been prayerfully considering how we can create the environment for such conversations.  And we looking at ways to meet people where they are, knowing that we cannot expect to share the Good News if we stay closed up in our church.

Perhaps without even realizing it, this week we did just that.  Last Wednesday, we gathered with people of faith throughout the Plainview-Old Bethpage community and made 495 sandwiches to feed our hungry neighbors.  We shared the work together, we got to know people from other faith traditions and communities, and we prayerfully thought of the men and women whose lives would be touched by our strokes of peanut butter and jelly.

Then, on Monday, over twenty of our parishioners gathered to walk in the Plainview Memorial Day Parade.  I watched as parishioners, clad in St. Margaret’s gear, shook the hands of old friends, had conversations with strangers, and waved with gusto.  As we walked, I overheard onlookers wondering about our Garden of Eatin’ (check out our Facebook page for our fun shirts, props, and banners), talking about where we were located, and not-so-subtly realizing I was the priest.

After the walk, parishioners re-gathered at the church, and planted our Grow to Give Garden.  Our garden is located near the road that our church faces, and I can see that the garden might be a great invitation into our property.  The garden already has brought young and old together.  I am hoping it might also bring parishioner and non-parishioner together too.

handshakeThis week, we started the work of evangelism.  My hope is that the experience gives us some energy around keeping it up.  I am already considering what local establishments I might begin to frequent when I do my sermon preparation.  The Vestry is beginning to ask some of our committees and groups to consider moving off campus to better be seen by and to encounter our community.  Our work is just beginning, but this weekend gave me the spark to keep it up.  See you at a local Starbucks, Cosi, or Panera soon!!

Sermon – Acts 16.9-15, E6, YC, May 5, 2013

10 Friday May 2013

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This Eastertide, I have been thinking a lot about evangelism.  The bishop asked us to have a conversation about our mission and evangelism efforts here in Plainview during Eastertide.  The Vestry just started reading a book about evangelism as a spiritual discipline.  And our Vestry retreat in April was about the tangible practices of evangelism we could employ.  For a topic that makes most Episcopalians very uncomfortable, evangelism seems to be everywhere I turn.  But as I was thinking about the theme of evangelism this Eastertide, I realized that the theme’s prominence makes quite a bit of sense.  Eastertide is sort of the “so what?” of the resurrection.  Throughout Eastertide, we are hearing the stories of the disciples’ reaction to the resurrection, and what life was like after this pivotal moment.  What better time to think about evangelism than while the disciples are doing just that – taking the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection and sharing that Good News with others.

What I appreciate then about our lesson from Acts today is that the practice of evangelism in biblical times was not exactly precise.  You would think that the book of Acts would tell the story of how after Jesus’ death the disciples knew exactly how to spread the Good News.  You would think after all those years with Jesus, the disciples had clear instructions for moving forward, and were able to draw up a structured evangelism plan.  But our stories from Acts this year have included nothing of the sort.  So far we have heard stories of a brutal persecutor of Christians being dramatically converted, of Peter realizing that Gentiles should also be included in the Christian community, and today we hear of this foreign woman of power coming to Christ.  I am pretty sure if the disciples sat down and planned their target audience for the Good News, Paul, Cornelius, and Lydia would not have been on their list.  And yet, this is the story of evangelism we hear during Eastertide: a story of unlikely and unexpected people hearing and responding to the word of God.

On the surface, this sounds like good news to us.  These stories of conversion give a sense of confidence that no matter with whom we share the story of Jesus, they will be converted.  But looking at the end of the story glosses over the actual experiences of those on the evangelism journey.  If you remember, when Paul is converted, and his eyes are scaled over, the Christian who goes to talk with him is scared to death.  God tells him to go to Paul, but that is little assurance when that instruction means walking into the lair of a nasty murderer of Christians.  And for Peter, his interaction with Cornelius means that he must surrender all that has been familiar to him – the necessity of circumcision and all that he has known as being central markers of faithfulness – and let go of that familiarity.  Even with this interaction between Paul and Lydia today, Paul must take on a long journey based on a few words in a dream, only to find not a Macedonian man who is asking for help, but a foreign woman.[i]

These stories during Eastertide only highlight our own anxieties about evangelism.  As modern Christians, we have a hard enough time sharing the Good News with our friends and family.  Religion is one of those primary topics to avoid at dinner parties.  At the slightest hint of discomfort from someone else, we immediately drop the topic, not wanting to drive away a friend or colleague.  We do not want to become known as some Jesus freak who everyone avoids at parties.  Quite frankly, there are even times when we feel uncomfortable even talking about our faith within Church.  How in the world could we ever then expect ourselves to be able to talk to those who are hostile, unchurched, or strangers to us?

Before I went to seminary, I participated in a group at my parish called EFM – Education for Ministry.  The program was a four-year program where a small group of people gathered and each year covered a different topic – Old Testament, New Testament, Church History, and Theology.  During one of the scripture years, I was traveling by plane alone and I was sorely behind in my scripture reading.  I carried a large study bible with me, and that trip I found that I had more interesting conversation than you could ever imagine.  I had a slightly uncomfortable conversation with a young evangelical male who started telling me about his conservative views on scripture.  I had a businessman ask me if I was a minister or theology student.  When I told him no, he seemed bewildered as to why I would be reading the Bible, and kept eyeing me suspiciously the rest of that flight.  I had a middle-aged woman start telling me about her church and Bible Studies she had enjoyed.  And of course, there were tons of people who just stared at me warily trying to figure out what my angle was.  You would think the lesson from my trip would be, “Take a Bible with you, and see what evangelism opportunities it creates.”  But to be honest, I found myself wanting to never carry a Bible with me again in an airport.

I think why we get so uncomfortable about evangelism is we imagine evangelism as knocking on the doors of strangers, presenting some uncomfortable script, and then having doors slammed in our faces.  But our lesson from Acts today shows us a different model.  Our lesson from Acts tells us is that yes, evangelism will entail going places that may be uncomfortable or interacting with people you would not expect.  Paul goes on a long journey expecting to meet a man and gets something quite different.  Lydia goes seeking a place to pray with her familiar girlfriends and hears something entirely new.  But evangelism is not just about the evangelizer and the evangelizee.  The other major actor is the Holy Spirit.  The text tells us that the Lord opened Lydia’s heart to listen eagerly to Paul.  Evangelism is the intersection between human faithfulness and divine guidance.  “Paul would not have been guided to this place at this moment, were he not first of all at God’s disposal, open to being guided, sensitively attuned to being steered in one direction and away from all others.  Lydia would not have arrived at this place or time, had she not first of all been a worshiper of God, a seeker already on her way.  Peter does his part and Lydia hers, but it is God who guides all things and works in and through all things, not just for good but for what would otherwise be impossible.”[ii]

What is so liberating about this understanding of evangelism is that even if we thought we had to or could do evangelism on our own, we realize today that our work of evangelism only happens with God.  The book our Vestry is reading says that “Evangelism is a spiritual practice of expressing gratitude for God’s goodness and grace.”[iii]  That does not sound so bad, does it?  A spiritual practice of expressing gratitude for God’s goodness and grace.  He does not define evangelism as saving souls or self-righteously driving away your friends.  He says that evangelism is about expressing gratitude for God’s goodness and grace.  Knowing that definition of evangelism and knowing from scripture that evangelism happens as a partnership between our faithfulness and God’s guidance makes the whole enterprise seem a lot less scary.

I want you to take a moment to think about the best vacation you ever had.  Think about all the reasons why the vacation was wonderful and why you enjoyed yourself.  Think about the happiness and peace that the vacation brought you and the warm smile that just recalling the trip brings to your face.  Imagine the enthusiasm in your voice as you share that story with someone else and the great conversation your sharing might evoke.  Now, take a moment to imagine the same experience with a conversation about your faith journey.  Think about the great joy you have had in your relationship with God.  Think about the happiness and peace you have at times found in God.  And now think about the enthusiasm in your voice as you share that story with someone else and the incredible conversation your sharing might evoke.  That is all that happens between Paul and Lydia.  That is all that God invites you to do today.  Because the Holy Spirit will take care of rest.  Amen.

[ii] Ronald Cole-Turner, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 476

[iii] David Gortner, Transforming Evangelism (New York: Church Publishing, 2008), 29.

Homily – Matthew 10.7-16, George Augustus Selwyn, April 11, 2013

17 Wednesday Apr 2013

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Today we honor George Augustus Selwyn, bishop of New Zealand and of Lichfield, England, in the mid-to-late 1800s.

Bishop Selwyn was best known for his work in New Zealand.  On his voyage there, he mastered the Maori language and was able to preach in it upon his arrival.  During a ten-year war between the English and the Maoris, he was able to minister to both sides with integrity.  His treatment of the Maori people was so tremendous that the Maoris still make pilgrimages to his grave in England today.

Bishop Selwyn seems to have taken our gospel lesson from Matthew to heart.  The sending out of the twelve is full of action.  They are to go and proclaim the Good News.  They are to cure, raise the dead, heal, and cast out demons.  They are to rely on the kindness of strangers – and brush off those who do not show them kindness.  They are to take nothing – no money, clothes, or staff.  Jesus’ instructions are full of work, but they are also stripped of all the creature comforts that might have enabled the disciples to do the work.  Much like Bishop Selwyn jumped on a ship to New Zealand, to a land whose language and culture he did not know, with obstacles like war to navigate, the disciples too are tasked with dropping everything and jumping into the unfamiliar.

Just recently I had a conversation with a local clergy person about a potential mission partnership.  There were many things about the partnership that intrigued me – but there were also many things that made me wonder if this was “the one.”  There were aspects of the mission relationship that made me think that this would not be an “easy relationship.”  In the middle of confessing my concerns to the other priest, I had to stop myself, and said, “You know what – this trip makes me a little uncomfortable – and that’s how I know we’re heading in the right direction.”

What I have learned, Bishop Selwyn knew, and the disciples found, is that doing Jesus’ work is not easy.  Jesus promises that the work will not be easy in the gospel lesson today.  But inherent in Jesus’ instructions are also promises of deep joy.  There will be people who welcome the disciples and they will develop deep, meaningful, profound ministries that they will be equipped to do.  They will be cared for, even when their natural tendency will be to care for themselves.  When we can trust Jesus to do all that he says he will do, then we can have incredible experiences with God’s people.  The adventure awaits!  Amen.