Tag Archives: invitation

Discovering Home…

21 Wednesday Sep 2016

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Photo credit:  John Rothnie, http://www.hickoryneck.org

When my husband and I were engaged, we relocated to Delaware.  One of the first things on our priority list was finding a church home – partly because we missed church back in North Carolina, but also because we were hoping to make some new friends in our new town.  “Church shopping” was hard – nothing felt quite right, and our old standbys were not working.  I was born and raised in the United Methodist Church, and my husband had nominally been raised in the Presbyterian Church.  After months of frustration, and the recommendation of a friend, we tentatively tried out the Cathedral in Delaware.  My husband was sold on the first Sunday; I took some time to come around.  For a long time, I thought that we were just United Methodists who happened to worship in an Episcopal Church.  But what I did not realize was that a transformation was taking place – I was discovering the Church home I didn’t know I was missing.

Every person who walks in the door of a church has a similar story.  Sometimes a person is what we call a “cradle Episcopalian” – born, raised, and stayed in the Episcopal Church.  Sometimes a couple or family is looking for a compromise in faith traditions.  Sometimes people leave their denomination out of frustration and are looking for something that feels closer to the Gospel as they experience it.  And sometimes a person has never before stepped a foot in a church.  That’s part of the beauty of the Episcopal Church – our members come from a diverse set of experiences, all of which feed our mutual ministry.

That is why we are kicking off a class called “Discovery Class” this week at Hickory Neck.  Whether you are new to Hickory Neck, the Episcopal Church, or you have been around forever, I find it is always helpful to review our roots.  No matter how many times I teach this class, I find that people learn something new, feel inspired to deepen their faith, or find themselves reenergized about their Episcopal identity.  The class also gives us a chance to reflect on and celebrate the unique way that our Episcopal identity is incarnate at Hickory Neck.

I hope you will take some time this week to reflect on your own spiritual journey.  Think back to the times when you felt inspired, fed, and reinvigorated in your faith.  Recall the way you felt when you knew, or suspected, that your current faith community began to feel like a spiritual home.  And if you cannot join us at Hickory Neck, share some of those stories with your neighbors – and invite them into the wonderful work Jesus is doing in your church home!

You’re Invited!

27 Wednesday Apr 2016

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One of the things that has been fun about living in a new community is being able to operate under the radar for a little while.  I had not started my job yet when my oldest child began her first week in her new school.  That meant I was able to go to the bus stop in plain clothes – where my collar did not cue in the other parents as to what my occupation is.  It was a wonderful experiment because I was able to quickly see how or whether people talk about their faith in this new community.

By the second day, one of the moms introduced herself to me.  She was incredibly friendly and helpful, trying to ascertain how much we had begun to integrate ourselves into the neighborhood.  Within five minutes, she mentioned how I might enjoy bringing the kids to vacation bible school at her church this summer.  She followed up that invitation by asking if I had started looking for a church home.  At that point in the conversation, the cat was out of the bag.  Not only did I have a church home, I was that church’s new pastor.  As I walked home that day I was impressed by her natural and quick ability to do the simple and powerful:  invite me to church.

There is a duo that I have come to love called the Skit Guys.  They do funny skits that poke fun at us church-going people while also exposing, challenging, and encouraging us in our weaknesses.  Some of my favorite skits, like this one, challenge why people do not ever think to invite others to church.   They make the invitation part seem so simple.  At the new bus stop, I realized how right they are.

You are Invited

Photo credit:  www.christiantoday.com/article/church.asks.too.much.of.us.thats.why.we.dont.invite.our.friends/47064.htm

So, this week, I invite you to do the same.  Maybe your child has been at the bus stop all year, but you never broached the “religion” topic with another parent.  Maybe you had a casual chat with someone at the hair salon or barber shop, but you did not think to mention your church.  Maybe you were at a bar or a restaurant and were talking politics and religion, but never asked if they have a good church home.  This week, I invite you to go for it.  Perhaps the person already has a church home and you will hear about some cool ministries they are doing.  Perhaps the person was scorned by the church and you can be a pastoral ear, sharing the times when church has been both hard to be a part of and times when church has been a blessing for you.  Or perhaps the person has been waiting to be asked.  I’m sure you will have a great story to tell if that is the case!  Good luck!

An invitation…

25 Wednesday Feb 2015

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In my line of work, I deal with death a lot.  The first two calls a family usually makes when a loved one dies are to the funeral home and to the priest.  I have done funerals for people I have known and loved, and for people who I have never met.  I have done funerals for people who were deeply involved with and committed to the Church, and for people who actively avoided the church.  I have done funerals for grandmothers, husbands, sisters, and children.  I have held the hand of a shallow-breathing senior who had lived a long life but was approaching the last hours, and have touched the tiny hand of a stillborn.  Death is ever present in my life, always a phone call away.

So you would think that Ash Wednesday would not be that jarring to me.  A day meant to remind us of the fragility of life, that we are dust and to dust we shall return, really should not be that extraordinary.  But every year it gets me.  Though I deal with death when it comes my way, Ash Wednesday is a little different.  Ash Wednesday involves reminding people who may be nowhere near death to ponder the shortness of life.  Each time I spread gritty ashes on a forehead, my whole being shutters.  I think of the many laughs I have shared with the person my age; I think of the illness someone in their 50s overcame and the fullness of life they have enjoyed since then; I think of the bounding energy of the six-year old and how much joy they bring; and I think of the quiet confidence and wisdom of the grandmother figure.  Every time I say, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” I feel like I am whispering a dark truth into each person’s ears.  There is nothing more sobering than those words, than those grainy ashes, than those shared moments of eye contact.  And no matter how well I clean up afterwards, a little black residue remains on my thumb, reminding me how close death lingers.

Though the reality of Ash Wednesday is sobering, and perhaps something one might want to avoid, I find that most people who come for ashes are relieved.  They are relieved for the gift of a church that will remind them of things of ultimate importance.  They are relieved for some perspective and levity in a world that tells them if they push more, do more, achieve more, they will somehow be happier.  They are relieved to be shaken out of the distractions or the fog of life and to be invited into a sense of clarity and purpose.  I certainly am relieved in that same way.  Because I am the solo priest at my parish, I usually have a parishioner also spread ashes on my forehead.  No matter who I end up asking, there is always a moment of shared humility and connection.  I am grateful to the church for the gift of Ash Wednesday and the invitation for a holy Lent.

Sermon – Jonah 3.1-5, 10, E3, YB, January 25, 2015

28 Wednesday Jan 2015

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Whenever a family has two children, often the children fall into two stereotypes – the goody two-shoes and the rebel.  The goody two-shoes generally follows the rules, rarely gets in trouble, and usually does what they are asked to do.  The rebel on the other hand makes their own rules, is regularly in trouble, and rarely does what they are asked to do.  The goody two-shoes conforms to expectations and the rebel blazes their own trail.  Many a harried parent has said to their rebel child, “Why can’t you just be more like goody two-shoes?!?”

Today, our scripture gives us not just one set, but two sets of such siblings.  First we have Jonah in our Old Testament lesson and the disciples in our gospel lesson.  When Jesus calls out to the disciples who are fishing and tells them to follow him, all four disciples drop their nets, abandon their family and livelihoods, and follow Jesus.  They do not ask questions.  They do not take a moment to consider the invitation and carefully discern whether to go.  They do not even complain.  They immediately drop what they are doing and follow Jesus.  The disciples are our goody two-shoes today.  The rebel, then, is Jonah.  If you remember, God came to Jonah early on and told Jonah to go to Nineveh.  And while Jonah did respond immediately, his response was to run in the complete opposite direction.  He runs the opposite direction, hops on a boat, and makes his escape.  Of course we know how that turns out.  Jonah is tossed overboard when the seas get out of control, and he is swallowed by a large fish.  Even in our lesson today, when God tells Jonah a second time to go to Nineveh, we can tell Jonah’s heart is not in the work.  Later we find out that when God forgives Nineveh, Jonah rebels again, throwing a temper tantrum of epic proportions, proclaiming that he wish he could die he is so upset.  Jonah is our rebel today.[i]

Our second set of siblings is found in the Jonah story itself.  We know that Jonah has already rebelled and taken to the seas to escape the job he is supposed to do.  But look at how he does execute his work.  When he finally does proclaim the judgment on Nineveh, he only says five words in Hebrew, translated, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!”  Jonah is a grumbling, half-hearted rebel of the Lord.  Meanwhile, Nineveh proves to be our goody two-shoes this time.  This is the most surprising turn of events too.  Nineveh is a brutal power in Jonah’s day.[ii]  They are known for their vicious treatment of the people of Israel.  They are the enemy.  But when the residents of Nineveh hear the judgment of the LORD – Jonah’s brief, half-hearted one – they immediately respond.[iii]  All the people put on sackcloth, even the king and the animals; they take up a fast, sit in ashes, and turn from their violent ways.  Talk about a 180!  And what makes the situation all the more ironic is that Nineveh, the city we might normally label as the rebel in this story, actually comes out as the goody two-shoes; and Jonah, the prophet of God, who should be the goody two-shoes turns out to be our rebel.

In our world, we know what happens to these two archetypes.  The goody two-shoes are ones who get straight A’s, have successful careers, have happy relationships, and lead stable, content lives.  They are held up as the shining examples for all of us.  The rebels, on the other hand, are the ones who get sent to the principal’s office, have spotty employment, are in and out of relationships, and are known for their instability.  Though the rebels may be fun to be around, they are not as dependable as the goody two-shoes.  And for those of us who are rebels, we are told time and time again to get our act together.  In our world, society is quite clear about which role we should choose.

The good news is that God is not like the rest of the world.  God has enough room for everyone.  God invites everyone: rebels like violent Nineveh and Jonah, and goody two-shoes like the disciples and the reformed Nineveh.  God encourages both and God gives second (and third and fourth) chances to both.  God’s mercy is so abundant that God is willing to totally change God’s mind.  Like the old hymn goes, “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy like the wideness of the sea; there’s a kindness in his justice, which is more than liberty.”  The grace in our stories today gives us hope that those uptight goody two-shoes and those restless rebels among us both have a chance in God’s eye.

But the good news today is not just easy news.  The good news comes with work too.  God has mercy for both Nineveh and Jonah, but God does not let either off the hook.  God saves Jonah from the perilous sea and the big fish.  But then God puts Jonah back to work.  God does not destroy Nineveh, but only when Nineveh turns from its evil ways.  God is much like the parent who loves their children equally – both the goody two-shoes and the rebels.  But part of that equal love is also an equal expectation that we all respond to God’s invitation.  We may all respond differently, but God will not rest until we respond.  The question today is what invitation from God have we been avoiding, and how might we take up God’s invitation anew?  God is waiting for our response.  Amen.

[i] Kathryn Schifferdecker, “Commentary on Jonah 3.1-5, 10” found on January 22, 2015 at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2347.

[ii] Callie Plunket-Brewton, “Commentary on Jonah 3.1-5, 10” January 21, 2012, found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1214 on January 22, 2015.

[iii] Joseph L. Price, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 270.

Save me a seat…

06 Wednesday Feb 2013

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empty pewsYesterday I was reminded of a practice I picked up in seminary.  At VTS, we were required to attend chapel and daily lunch together.  Like any good Episcopalians, seminarians and faculty all had their “regular seats” in chapel.  And like any insecure adolescent, we often had a similar worry at lunch – wanting to make sure we had someone (preferably someone we liked) to sit with at lunch.

With that in mind, by my senior year, I developed a practice that brought much joy to my seminary life.  When I went to chapel, instead of bee-lining my way to a familiar seat with a friend, I would pick a pew and sit by myself.  I was always pleasantly surprised with the result.  Sometimes I ended up sitting alone the entire service – a practice that allowed me to become much more focused on my prayers.  Sometimes the most wonderful friends snuck into the seat beside me just as the service was starting.  Their presence brightened my day and lifted my joyful heart in worship.  And sometimes someone I was not as excited to see would sit beside me.  Inevitably though, we would end up chatting after the service and something about that conversation softened my heart into a much more Christ-like way of loving all my neighbors.

The same was true at lunch.  If all the tables were full, instead of squeezing in one more seat, I would pick an empty table and sit down.  This was the biggest gamble because up to seven people could join you.  Again, sometimes the closest of friends and professors would join me, leading to much laughter and enjoyment; sometimes an odd conglomeration of individuals would join me, leading to intriguing conversations; and sometimes total strangers or even those who I was not so fond of would join me, but the interactions were no less rich, and always opened me up to something new.

So yesterday, at our Diocesan clergy day, I sat in a row by myself.  To be fair, I did sit behind a set of clergy I really like, but I did decline their invitation to squeeze in, just so that I could enjoy my old seminary practice.  And the experience did not disappoint.  I enjoyed a great pew of colleagues with some stimulating conversation after worship.

Driving home, I began to wonder where we make room in our everyday lives.  Where do we leave space for others to join us?  Certainly, this applies to our church pew and coffee hour sitting behaviors, but the question is bigger than that.  Where do I make room for holy interaction with others, talking about my faith, listening to their sacred story?  How do I make room for the movement of the Holy Spirit to act in the open space I create?  This pattern of behavior is not easy or even comfortable.  Making room for others takes intentionality, vulnerability, and a willingness to sit alone until someone else arrives.  I invite you today to ponder where you are leaving space in your life, and how God is already using that space for good.