Tag Archives: purpose

On the Why of Church…

04 Wednesday Sep 2019

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Photo:  Hickory Neck Episcopal Church; reuse with permission only

I spent the last almost three weeks on vacation.  It was a time relaxation, refreshment, and restoration.  It was a time of unplugging, unwinding, and uninterrupted space.  It was a time of sabbath.  And because most Sundays I am in church, I experienced not going to church.  On Sundays, it turns out lots of people are eating brunch, exercising, spending time with their families, enjoying nature, working, or just enjoying a good read.  And for a couple of weeks, I did just that.

The weeks away got me thinking:  why do we go to church on Sundays, when there are so many other things we could be doing?  As I contrasted the time of not going to church with my years of going to church, I realized I go to church for so many reasons – some big and some small.  The big ones may be obvious.  I want to connect with, learn about, and feel loved by God.  I want a sense of community, where I belong and am known.  I want a sense of purpose rooted in Jesus’ command to love God, self, and neighbor.

The small ones are less obvious.  I love the beauty of the people in church:  the elders laughing heartily, children and their looks of wonder and their awesome questions, people caring for the needs of others when they think no one is looking.  I love the power of music:  from the familiar song that takes me back to fond place, to the unfamiliar song with a lyric that blows my mind, to the transcendent way harmonizing voices can bring me to tears for some unknown reason.  I love the little moments:  when an invitation to prayer reminds me of a hurting loved one, when sharing the peace with someone with whom I have had hard feelings dissolves all tension, when the burn of the communion wine down my throat lingers for several minutes – as if Christ is not ready to leave me yet, when the light shines just so on the cross, reminding me once again of the big stuff of Church.

Going to Church every week gives me a sense of belonging – to God and to other people, gives me a sense of meaning in a world that is often confounding, and gives me a sense of hope.  Maybe you have gotten out of the habit of going to Church, for a hundred little and good reasons.  If so, I invite you to shake things up this week and try Church again.  Maybe you left the Church in hurt or never really were introduced to Church.  If so, I invite you to consider stepping in the doors and giving the Church a chance to share Christ’s love with you.  Or maybe you go to Church every Sunday, but things have begun to feel stale.  If so, I invite you to take a deep breath, sit in a different place, or simply allow yourself to be surprised by the Holy Spirit.  I invite you to my Church this week – for some of the reasons here, for your own reasons, or for reasons unknown to you.  I will be there with open arms, ready to introduce you to a group of awesome people, on the same journey to know our awesome God.

Flip-Flops and Fresh Looks…

29 Wednesday May 2019

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This Sunday, our church is trying something new called “Flip-Flop Mass.”  The concept began with the idea that we wanted to move our “Mass on the Grass” indoors because, let’s face it, even in early June, Virginia is hot and humid.  We also had some rearranging with musical leadership, and we wanted to keep the casual vibe of our outdoor service.  But as we shifted to the idea of an indoor casual mass, the ideas started flowing.  What if we totally rearranged the space?  What if we played with the liturgy and how we interact with Scripture?  What if we not only went casual, but we also went ancient?

What has resulted, after a ton of logistical plans, gathering different supplies, and coordinating with servers, is a worship service like that of the earliest church – an intimate meal around the table reminiscent of the meal between Jesus and his disciples.  I suspect the service will have its fumbles and things we did not anticipate, but I am also hopeful that the service will shift our routine just enough that we thoughtfully reflect on what it is we do on Sundays and what it all means.

Whatever style of church you prefer (and believe me, Hickory Neck manages to artfully offer lots of different styles), I encourage you to join us this Sunday for the adventure.  I suspect whatever you are used to or you prefer, this Sunday will give you the opportunity to engage just differently enough that you experience the elements of worship more powerfully:  the gathering of a community of strangers and friends, seeking a sense of belonging and meaning; a space to wrestle with Scripture, especially when Scripture is sometimes difficult to relate to modern-day life; a fresh way to experience God’s presence, using all of your senses; a place where you can find a renewed sense of purpose and passion for serving the world.  I don’t know about you, but I am thrilled to be invited to experience church with fresh eyes this weekend.

So, grab your flip-flops, grab a dish to share for lunch, grab a friend (or a stranger!), and come to church.  We’ll save you a seat at the table!

On Awkwardness and Grace…

27 Wednesday Feb 2019

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This week our church is hosting our community’s Emergency Winter Shelter.  Every day for a week, from about 6:30 pm to about 8:30 am, we welcome up to twenty-five guests into our church.  This week is a banner week for our church community.  It is the week in the year where everything we say about discipleship and being witnesses for Christ’s love becomes a reality.  The week is so important that we try to engage parishioners of all ages, and we partner with other churches and local schools to make the week happen.  This is the week where we boldly proclaim our identity and live it with integrity.  This is the week where Christ can say about us, “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me…”[i]

You would think with that kind of buildup, and that clear sense of purpose, every moment we are hosting our guests would be this beautiful, enlightened, perfect moment.  While there are certainly beautiful moments, what I noticed about our Winter Shelter week is that it is much more awkward that you might imagine.  Up to twenty-five individuals gather together, with unique stories that brought them to this moment of vulnerability and need, and they create a make-shift place of protection for few hours with about twenty volunteers who mostly do not need to worry about where the next meal is coming from or where they will rest their heads.  What do you talk about over a shared meal?  How do you connect with someone who is bone tired from working, hustling to get to the shelter, and worried about what is next?  How do you overcome the very obvious fact that the worlds you are both operating in are diametrically different?

The answers are not super glamorous.  When you invite yourself to sit at a table with homeless men and women, sometimes the conversation is superficial, and sometimes things are said that rock your world and remind you of how much privilege you really have.  When you long for a human connection with someone who is bone tired, sometimes the most you get is a smile; but more often what you get is a reality check about how brutal homelessness can be, and how many other awful things may be present in their lives.  And as you long to overcome the barriers of the two worlds you live in, part of what you have to do is let go of the idea that you can, remembering why Jesus once said it is harder for a person of wealth to get into the kingdom than a camel to fit through the eye of a needle.  Winter Shelter Week is hard and awkward because the experience forces us to examine our lives, acknowledge our privilege, and be honest about the amount of work we still have to do.

The good news in all the awkwardness and difficulty is that God’s grace is all around.  Providing shelter for a week matters.  Acknowledging the humanity of one another matters.  And that we are even trying matters.  God takes our best intentions, and our humbling week, and grants us moments of beauty:  from the almost five-year old who insists on saying goodnight to every guest before going home to bed – and the gracious responses of guests; to the teenager who has the courage to say an extemporaneous blessing over the food, when traditional prayers do not seem to work; to the community – both guests and hosts – who rallies together to protect the physical well-being of all the guests.  When Jesus talked about welcoming in strangers and feeding and quenching other’s thirst, he did not warn us how hard it would be.  I suspect he knew that the grace we would exchange in the mutual vulnerability would be reward enough.

[i] Matthew 25.35

On Holiness and Heroes…

27 Wednesday Jun 2018

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Wonder Woman

Photo credit:  https://www.themarysue.com/no-boys-allowed/

This Sunday we begin our summer film series at Hickory Neck called “Faith and Film.”  When I announced to our parish that this year’s theme would be superheroes, I got some raised eyebrows.  My suspicion is that for those of our parish who have not already blocked out the next five Sunday evenings, their raised eyebrows are because superhero movies may seem frivolous, superficial, or even violent.  On the surface, I can understand the suspicions.  For a long time, I though superhero films dabbled a little too much in escapism and fantasy.  And there is certainly some of that component to the films – who doesn’t enjoy what filmmakers can do with computer graphics these days?!

But at the heart of these films is something much more significant.  Each film seems to asks deep, defining questions.  What kind of person are you going to be?  What morals or ethics will rule your life?   What things are of ultimate significance in your life?  What responsibility do you have for the world and people around you?  These questions are not frivolous questions.  When someone dons a Captain America hat or a Wonder Woman shirt, they are not just celebrating a fun, fictional hero – they are also celebrating a moral way of life.

I cannot imagine anything more relevant to a disciple of Jesus than discerning and making decisions about your life that reflect your morals and ethics.  As Episcopalians, we look to our baptismal covenant for that definition.  It defines five core elements:  1) continuing in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of the bread, and the prayers, 2) resisting evil, and, whenever we fall into sin, repenting and returning to the Lord, 3) proclaiming by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, 4) seeking and serving Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves, and 5) striving for justice and peace among all people, and respecting the dignity of every human being.[i]

These days, as our current political climate challenges us on more and more specific issues, I cannot imagine a better topic than to talk about what defines us and our behavior, and then recommitting to that identity and purpose.  The good news is that if you are able to make it to all five movies, the following Sunday (August 5), we will be renewing our baptismal covenants as we baptize a child of God – an event where we all commit to being superheroes in the life of Christ.  I hope you will join us for this fun, sometimes frivolous, but mostly foundational journey.

[i] Book of Common Prayer, 304-304.

Sermon – John 20.1-18, ED, YA, April 16, 2017

27 Thursday Apr 2017

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Every generation has a baby name that is popular.  In my generation, that name was Jennifer.  As I was growing up, every grade had tons of Jennifers.  I became quite accustomed to the experience of eagerly looking up when someone called my name, only to be disappointed to see they were calling out to someone else.  The name was so common that by the time I got to college, I learned to ignore people calling out my name because more likely than not, they were not actually calling me.  They were calling one of the other twenty Jennifers nearby.  Although the practice helped me save face, the practice was a bit of a hindrance when someone actually was trying to get my attention.

The solution, of course, was a nickname – something to distinguish me from the sea of other Jennifers.  So in college, most of my buddies just started calling me “Andrews.”  It may sound silly, but having a name that was distinct, that when called, I knew I could answer, gave me a sense of belonging and identity.  When someone shouted, “Andrews” across the quad, I knew a friendly face would be looking for me when I raised my eyes.  Though seemingly simple, that nickname made me feel known, especially at a time when everyone is trying to figure out their new identity, where they belong, and who they will be.

I suspect that Mary was the common name in Jesus’ generation.  All we need to do is read through the New Testament to know that there are more Marys than we can count.  Sometimes I even have to look back when I come across a Mary to be sure I am thinking of the right one.  So when Jesus calls Mary Magdalene by name, I imagine there must have been some way she knows not only that this is Jesus, but also that he is talking to her.

Easter morning has been a rough morning for Mary.  She comes in the tomb before the first light of dawn has broken.  She is probably still a bit bleary eyed – that kind of haze one has in the days after a death of a beloved one.  She comes to halt before she gets all the way to the tomb though.  The stone that is supposed to be covering the tomb, protecting Jesus’ body, is gone.  Before even going in to assess the situation, Mary runs – runs hard to find the disciples, demanding that they get up and help her.  Two of them, the beloved disciple and Peter, sprint ahead of Mary.  She is too tired from her first run to keep up.  By the time she reaches the tomb, the two disciples are already stepping out of the tomb, Peter looking perplexed and the other disciple with an enigmatic smile.  And without so much as a word to her, they leave – just like they left Jesus on that fateful day.[i]  Mary, overcome with the memories of Jesus’ crucifixion and the continued emotion of this morning, breaks into tears.  When she finally checks inside the tomb herself, she not only sees two angels, she also has an encounter with a supposed gardener.  Frustrated by their insensitive questions, she exasperatedly asks the gardener to just tell her where the body is.

That is when the big news today happens.  The supposed gardener calls her by name.  Not the common name that everyone has.  The supposed gardener calls her by the name that only Jesus calls her.  The haze dissipates.  The tears halt.  The cloud of despair vanishes.  And she calls Jesus by the name that only a few call him, “Rabbouni!”  This is a tremendous moment in our text today.  In the flurry of running, and confusion, and questions, and tears, and despair, two people see each other crystal clearly.  Mary is called by her name – Jesus communicates to Mary that she is known, the she is beloved, that she has an identity and a purpose unique to her.  She is his sheep who knows and recognizes the voice of the shepherd – the Good Shepherd.[ii]  Her relief is palpable.  The return of her confidence is immediate.  Her sense of celebration is ready to explode!

When I was in high school, I had a summer where I attended both a short conference and then a long summer program.  Both were residential.  The conference was the Hugh O’Brian Youth Leadership conference, or HOBY for short.  I made a few fast friends, but was there just a few days.  A week or so later, I was off to a six-week residential program.  It was my first time staying away from home that long, and I was admittedly a bit nervous since no one else from my high school was going.  After I unloaded my bags, and was getting ready to say goodbye to my parents, someone behind my shouted, “Hey, HOBY!”  Without even looking at who it was, I knew I did not need to worry about belonging.  I was already known here.  I had a place here.  I could have a purpose for those six weeks.

We have all had those moments of clarity around identity, belonging, and purpose.  Whether we are returning to our home town after a long time away, whether we develop good friends at school or in a civic group, and whether that happens at a reunion, we all know the deep, profoundly affirming feeling that comes from being known.  For those of you with a church home, and especially for those of you who have found a home here at Hickory Neck, you most likely found that feeling here.  Perhaps the liturgy was what brought you a sense of identity – either the liturgy reminded you of a practice from your earlier life, or the liturgy offered something to you that you did not even know you were missing.  Perhaps a ministry at church brought you a sense of identity – those little sacred moments that come when you realize that you are actually really good at inspiring people to serve the world, making beautiful music, or teaching children about the love of God.  Or perhaps the community brought you a sense of identity – that first time when someone remembered your name or a part of your story, when someone came to you for expert advice, or when someone knew just by looking at you that you were hurting – and then offered to take you to lunch or coffee.  The church is a place where both Christ and the community call you by name.

Now I would love to tell you that the wonderfully affirming and life-giving feeling of being known is an end unto itself.  I would love to send you home on this beautiful Easter Day with simply a sense of love and affirmation.  And that is certainly part of the gift I am giving you today – to tell you that you can be known and loved here.  But something else happens to Mary at that tomb.  After that profound moment of affirmation, Jesus tells her to go and be a witness to the disciples.  Jesus always gives his beloved homework.  He is that teacher that even on a Friday will give you an assignment for the weekend!  But Mary does not see this as a burden.  Even though Jesus will not let her cling to him – cling to the way things used to be, Jesus’ affirmation this day propels her to go out and share the good news of the risen Lord with the disciples.  In this way, Jesus not only recognizes and honors her identity; Jesus also gives her purpose – a call.

That is your homework on this Easter Sunday.  I know you want to go eat those big Easter meals ,go find those Easter eggs, and find what Easter chocolate awaits at home.  But remember that while this place is a place that calls you by name and affirms your beautiful identity, this is also a place that commissions you to go out and share the good news.  That wonderful sense of affirmation is not for you to bottle up and keep for yourself.  That sense of affirmation is meant to embolden you to share that affirmation with others – to meet people where they are, to hear their stories, and to share how this day of resurrection, love, and affirmation is for them too.  In the same way that you have a vocation, a call on your life, you also are to affirm vocation and call in others.  So this week, as you bask in the warmth and beauty of this day, go out and share that good news with others.  Someone may be waiting for you to call them by name.  Amen.

[i] Richard B. Hays, “Do Not Cling to Me,” Christian Century, vol. 109, no. 10, March 18-25, 1992, 299.

[ii] Karoline M. Lewis, John:  Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2014), 241.

Sermon – Lk 9.51-62, Gal 5.1, 13-25, P8, YC, June 26, 2016

29 Wednesday Jun 2016

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Whenever we are in an election year, I find myself wondering how Jesus might fare in a political race.  I mean, he has a pretty awesome platform:  liberation for the poor, forgiveness of debts, healing, even eternal life.  But Jesus would be a modern campaign manager’s nightmare.  I can imagine the harried manager running around in circles after hearing this week’s text.  Just as Jesus is gaining ground and growing his constituency (or as the text calls them, disciples and followers), and just as Jesus is starting to gain prestige with comparisons to other great leaders, like Moses and Elijah, Jesus starts running his campaign into the ground.

We hear the campaign crumbling through four different incidents in our gospel lesson today.  First, we hear the story of how Jesus and his crew need shelter.  The Samaritans refuse them hospitality, and James and John, remembering how the great Elijah brought down fire on his opponents, ask Jesus if they should do the same thing.  Reigning down fire on the enemies would certainly make for great evening news coverage and might even result in a surge in the polls.  But Jesus does nothing of the sort.  Instead, Jesus just ignores the affront and keeps going.  Surely Jesus’ campaign manager would be crushed when his prepared speech about the Samaritans does not see the light of day.

Next, Jesus gets some promising news.  On the campaign trail, someone shouts, “I will follow you wherever you go!”   The campaign manager must be salivating as he hopes to tweet the comment and post the interchange on Vine or Snapchat.  But, then Jesus ruins the whole moment by saying, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”  Not exactly the best promotional video for Jesus’ campaign.  Who wants to follow a guy whose response to “I’ll follow you anywhere!” is basically, “If you follow me, get ready to feel ostracized, abandoned, and alone.”?

The day keeps getting worse for the campaign manager.  Two other people are ready to commit their lives to supporting the Jesus campaign.  But instead of joyfully receiving them after they have packed their bags and said goodbye to their families, Jesus crankily says, “Let the dead bury their own dead,” and “No one who puts the hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”  At least the great Elijah showed a little more patience than Jesus in his leadership.  If you remember, when Elijah called Elisha to follow him, he gave him the chance to say goodbye to his family.  But not Jesus.  A new sheriff is in town and he has no patience for other agendas.  I can just imagine the team of writers that the campaign manager would have to assemble to wax Jesus’ words and make them more palatable.  Jesus would be a modern political campaign’s worst nightmare.

The way the text reads today, Jesus comes off as heartless and dismissive.  But if we are really honest, Jesus can come off as heartless and dismissive through much of the gospels.  We like to remember the lovey-dovey stuff about Jesus:  the healings, the tender moments of compassion, or the motivational parables.  But like any good marriage, with all the love that comes from Jesus, we must also take the hard, uncomfortable stuff too.  Yesterday, two of our parishioners got married.  The day was a day for love and joy.  But the day was also a day for honesty and reflection.  You see, the bride and groom had both lost their first spouses to disease and death.  Between them, they have enjoyed over 90 years of happy marriages.  Though both of them are thrilled to have found love and companionship again, they entered their marriage yesterday with the sobriety that can only come when you really know what you are getting into.  I can do all the premarital counseling I want with a young couple getting married for the first time.  But eventually they will have to learn for themselves that marriage is hard and love is even harder.  Love is not all roses and champagne.  Love is working through tough times, making sacrifices, and living with a partner who can sometimes be as cranky as Jesus.

The reason we stay in committed, loving relationships is that we understand the ultimate goal:  to love and care for one another for the long run.  Jesus is probably cranky in our vignettes today because he too has an ultimate goal:  his love for us which leads to the cross.  At the beginning of our story today, the text says, “When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”  This is our cue about Jesus’ seemingly bad mood.  Jesus does not have time for teaching and coddling.  He does not have energy for a leisurely stroll, where he can tell long parables and then explain their meaning.  No, Jesus has turned his face to Jerusalem.  We can hear in that one sentence, “When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem,” an indicator of Jesus’ demeanor.[i]  I am not sure Jesus would have ever made a savvy politician anyway, but he certainly would not have done so at this point in his ministry.  Where we are in Luke’s gospel is a turning point – a dramatic shift in the narrative.  When Jesus turns his face toward Jerusalem, everything else fades away.  He takes on a “singlemindedness of purpose that is prompted by God’s profound love for humanity and all the world.”[ii]

In his epistle to the Galatians we read today, Paul has become a bit cranky too.  The Galatians are fighting and Paul tells them to “stand firm,” or, in other words, to be single-minded in their love for one another.  Paul says, “…through love become slaves to one another.  For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”  As one scholar argues, “Being good at love, …requires a fair share of determination.  Loving another is not the easiest of commitments to make.  Love, it ought not surprise us, is going to require a little crankiness along the way.  Everything that has value does, and love is what has ultimate value for, of course, it is the only thing that lasts.  According to Paul and Jesus, it really is the only commandment, the only thing life is really about.”[iii]

Though both Jesus and Paul sound cranky and harsh today, I do not think they are either.  Why Paul asserts that the Galatians stand firm and why Jesus condemns those who put their hand to the plow and then look back is because both of them know our tendencies.  “Perhaps Jesus recognizes our tendency to put off the moments in time that might actually make a difference in what we say about him.  Perhaps Jesus sees that we come with ready excuses to defer our proclamation because we think we need to be in a better place, a better time, a time when the stars align so as to make our experience of the Gospel the perfect it was never meant to be.  Perhaps Jesus simply says stop making excuses and start imagining experiences that invite ‘let’s see what happens’ instead of ‘I need all my stuff figured out.’”[iv]

That is what happens when we really love one another.  We do not worry how savvy our political campaign is.  Instead we worry about what really matters – our call to love one another as Christ loves us.  Once we start doing that, party affiliation and grandstanding matter very little.  In fact, politics becomes a lot easier when we use the Jesus standard of love.  When we single-mindedly focus on love, our actions fall less into one political party or another of this world, but instead fall into focus on the kingdom of God.

Now, like our newlyweds will you tell, loving our neighbor is not easy.  Love as a political campaign will be frustrating and at times will make us quite cranky.  But by focusing on love, we allow ourselves to let go of all the extraneous stuff of life and focus single-mindedly on God’s purpose for us.  Sorting priorities becomes easier, caring for one another becomes more satisfying, and living into our purpose in this life comes more naturally.  Perhaps that would be the slogan that Jesus’ campaign manager would eke out of all Jesus’ interactions today:  All we need is love.  Amen.

[i] Elaine A. Heath, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 190.

[ii] David J. Lose, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 195.

[iii] Stacy Sauls, “Cranky Jesus,” June 30, 2013, as found at http://day1.org/4897-the_cranky_jesus on June 23, 2016.

[iv] Karoline Lewis, “Every Moment Counts,” June 19, 2016, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=4679 on June 22, 2016.

Sermon – Mark 6.1-13, P9, YB, July 5, 2015

08 Wednesday Jul 2015

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A few weeks ago, as we were planning liturgies, we were discussing the fact that we had two baptisms in a row – last Sunday and today.  A few people in the group kind of groaned, “Two in a row?!?”  I laughed at the time.  But the more I thought about their exasperation, the more I wondered why they were exasperated.  Certainly baptisms can take longer.  Between the blessing of the water, the renewal of vows, and the baptism itself, the service is a bit longer.  And perhaps to groan came out of a place of wanting to spread out the requency of special services – much like one rations out Halloween candy instead of eating it all at once.  But the more I thought about having two baptisms in a row, the more I liked the idea; in fact, the more I thought about the baptismal liturgy, I began to wish we had one every Sunday.

Now before you all issue a collective groan of exasperation, let me explain.  You see, the baptismal liturgy is one of those foundational liturgies.  In baptism, we ritually welcome someone into the family of faith.  But the baptismal liturgy is about more than the cute baby (though Rose is very cute, I admit!).  The baptismal liturgy is the time when we declare who we are, how we are to live, and how we will accomplish that ideal.  In this liturgy, we retell the story of our history – how God moved over the waters in creation, how God split the waters to free the enslaved people of Israel, and how God used the waters of baptism to mark a new way through Jesus’ own baptism.  In this liturgy, we also talk about our nature – how we are prone to sin, how we (despite the fact that we are saved by the waters of baptism) are on a continual journey of repenting and returning to the Lord, and how we need each other if we are ever to keep turning toward God.  In this liturgy, we also declare the radical way that we will live our lives in Christ – what being a Christian actually means.  Being a Christian means regularly gathering to learn together, to pray together, to eat at the Holy Table together, and to join in fellowship together.  Being a Christian means sharing the good news with others – not just by example, but by our words too.  Being  a Christian means seeking and serving Christ in others, loving our neighbor, striving for justice and peace, and respecting the dignity of others.  I don’t know about you, but regular worship, regular evangelism, and regular mission sounds like a lot of work!  And yet, here we are (for the second week in a row!) proclaiming that we will do these things.

So if today is all about defining who we are and who we are going to shape little Rose into being, what might be the best way for us to prepare her for her new life in Christ?  Some of us might imagine the story we heard a few weeks ago about David and Goliath.  If you remember, David was just a boy who agreed to take on the enormous Goliath, that everyone feared.  When King Saul agrees to let David fight Goliath, he first wants to suit up David.  Saul clothes David with Saul’s armor; he puts a bronze helmet on David’s head and clothes him with a coat of mail.  By the time Saul puts his sword over the armor, David cannot even walk!  David realizes the protection weighs him down.  So he removes the armor and weapon and instead takes only a staff, five smooth stones in his shepherd’s bag, and his sling.  Goliath (and if we are honest, probably everyone else gathered, including the people of God) laughs at David’s puny preparation.  The funny thing is that in our gospel lesson today, Jesus does the same thing for the disciples when he commissions them to go out in the world.  Jesus tells them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; they get a staff, one pair of sandals, and one tunic.

When we think about preparing ourselves for the life of faith – of going out into the world to seek Christ, serve Christ, and share Christ – most of us think about preparing the way that Saul prepares David.  We want some armor for all those times that we are rejected when we share our faith; we want a sword in case we run into trouble while seeking Christ; we want some heavy mail so that when we serve others, nothing or no one gets too close[i]  But instead, Jesus sends out the disciples with a staff to steady their walking as they share the good news, a pair of sandals and one tunic so that they can humbly encounter others as they serve Christ, and empty hands and bellies so that they can seek Christ in others.  On this day when we proclaim who we are and how we will live, one might imagine that we are readying ourselves and gathering our supplies, and especially that we are arming this small, vulnerable child for walking the way of Christ.  But instead, Jesus basically tells us that there is no way to protect ourselves; there is no way to prepare.[ii]  We go with our trust in the Lord, with vulnerability, and with a sense of identity and purpose.

That is why I think we could stand to have baptism Sunday every Sunday.  Our tendency would be to find the biggest backpack we can and load that bag with all the things we think we need for our journey.  But Jesus tells us to put that bag down and start walking:  walking the way, the truth, and the light; walking by seeking, serving, and sharing Christ.  In many ways Rose has more to teach us today than we have to teach her.  She came into this world with very little.  In fact, she even came here with very little – sure her parents might have a monster diaper bag with all the “just in case” stuff babies often need.  But Rose herself cannot carry a bag; she is not self-sufficient; she is vulnerable with us all.  Instead of giving Rose an armor for Christ today, she encourages us to take off our armor and swords, and get back to the basics: our staff, sandals, and tunic.  That is the beauty of baptism.  Baptism helps us remember that we need each other.  Rose needs us to teach her the way.  We need her to teach us how to gat back to basics.  Together we find our way to living the faithful life in Christ.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

[i] Michael L. Lindvall talks about the anxiety that evangelism produces in all of us in his article, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 216.

[ii] C. Clifton Black, “Commentary on Mark 6:1-13,” July 5, 2015, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2502 on July 2, 2015.

Sermon – John 12.20-33, L5, YB, March 22, 2015

01 Wednesday Apr 2015

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Early this past week, my daughter and I were watching an anti-bullying video.  Not only did the video talk about how to handle bullies, the video also talked about how to avoid being a bully.  The video described ways in which to handle anger so that the anger would not be deflected towards others.  My favorite suggested method was to take several deep breaths to help calm oneself.  I have tried teaching my daughter deep breathing on various occasions, so I was proud to learn that I was using an endorsed method for dealing with anger or stress.

Two days after watching our video, I was rushing off to the post office, and took what I thought would be a faster shortcut.  Midway through my shortcut I had to stop in the middle of the road for a tractor trailer that was backing into a loading dock.  The truck was taking up the whole road, but I figured he would be out of the road momentarily since he probably does this work all the time.  Much to my chagrin, I must have encountered a newbie truck driver because I swear the man must have backed up and pulled forward five or six times.  A line of cars was backing up on each side, and I found my aggravation and frustration rising quickly.  There may have even been some grunting or choice words offered in the safe confines of my car.  I had just given a huge exasperated groan when I remembered the video I had watched with my daughter less than forty-eight hours earlier.  So I started breathing deeply.  As my chest filled and my diaphragm rose, my mind began to quickly clear.  I began to see how ridiculous I was being – surely the extra three to five minutes were not the end of the world.  And if they were, I needed to seriously rethink my priorities.  And then I began to feel empathy for the driver.  I know when people are waiting for me to parallel park, I often panic and mess the parking job up a couple of times.  And then, a really funny thing started to happen – I began to pray.  I began to think about all those people who have been weighing on my heart, and I thanked God putting a literal roadblock in my way so that I could connect with the One through whom all things are possible.

In some ways, I have been thinking that suggestion about breathing is exactly what Jesus does in our Gospel lesson today.  In order to understand what is going on, let’s look a little more closely at the text.  Jesus has already raised Lazarus, Mary has anointed Jesus’ feet, Jesus has triumphantly entered into Jerusalem, and now the festival of Passover is underway.  Needless to say, there is a lot of noise around Jesus right now, as the responses to these events are intensely divided – from attraction, to anger and frustration, to reverence.[i]  In the midst of this chaos, some Greeks come up to Philip and say, “We wish to see Jesus.”  A phone tree of sorts starts – the Greeks talk to Philip, Philip talks to Andrew, and Andrew and Philip talk to Jesus.  Then Jesus answers with what seems like a non sequitur.  Instead of telling the Greeks yes, they can see him, or no, they cannot see him, Jesus launches into a speech about how his hour has come, how he must die in order bear fruit, and how those who want to follow him must be willing to lose their lives.  In the midst of this jumbled response, Jesus breaks through the chaos – the chaos of losing a friend and raising him from the dead, of having a friend extravagantly anoint him, of having the masses both shower him with palms and plot to kill him, of never having a moment of peace from people who want to see him, of trying to get the disciples to understand the price he is about to pay and the price they will also pay to follow him.  Into this chaos, Jesus stops and confesses a truth to God.  “My soul is troubled,” says Jesus.  Though he knows he cannot ask for his burden to pass, he at least asks God to intervene by glorifying God’s name.  In other words, Jesus cries out to God, “I am burdened God.  My soul is troubled.  Speak a word to your servant.”

Who among us has not gotten to this point with God?  Your boss is asking for more changes to something, your coworkers are not pulling their weight, you are still processing the argument you had with your mother or child, and the copier machine breaks down.  You stayed up late trying to finish your science project, you forgot one of your assignments at home, your best friend’s parents just told her they are getting divorced, and the teacher gives a pop-quiz on that book you did not have time to read.  Or you fought the alarm to get up in time for Church, in your rush to leave the house you forgot your wallet which means you cannot put money in the offering and you are driving without your license and credit cards, you get asked about the meeting minutes that you have not had time to type up, and before you walk in the door to Church, you get a call saying that your friend who had been fighting cancer died that morning.  In these moments we cry out to God, “I am burdened God.  My soul is troubled.  Speak a word to your servant.”

When Jesus cries out, when Jesus takes that deep breath, Jesus is given the gift of clarity.  In the hubbub of life, in the midst of people clamoring for his attention or trying to bring him down, everything falls away and Jesus hears God as clear as a bell.  In fact, that word to Jesus is so loud that even those gathered hear something like thunder in response.  In the thunder, in the clarity of calm breathing, Jesus is able to remember things of utmost importance.  Jesus is able to see with clarity that the noise does not matter – only what God has intended for Jesus matters – only who God intends for Jesus to be matters.  Jesus could have snapped at those Greeks wishing to see him.  Jesus could have taken on more burdens and agreed to let more people in to his overburdened life.  But instead, in the face of being totally overwhelmed, Jesus stops, takes a breath, and is reminded with great clarity what is really important.

In many ways, that is what Lent is all about.  Lent is a time to take a deep breath to re-center on what is most central in life – on the God who created you, who sustains you, and who beckons you out into the world.  Now many of us are quite good at centering ourselves.  I know many people who are able to identify in themselves when their anxiety or frustration has gotten too high, and who can within themselves take a deep breath and refocus on what God is calling them to do.  But many of us struggle with that practice.  We just keep pushing harder or start lashing out, assuming we can muscle our way through the anxiety.  Those of us with those struggles are like the ones in our gospel lesson who hear God’s voice like thunder.  God has to almost shout at us before we are able to really give attention to God.  That clap of thunder is like God’s clapping hands in our face saying, “Wake up!  I am talking to you!”

The good news is that either way – whether we are able to actually stop and quiet our minds and listen, or whether we are the ones who need God to more dramatically shake us up, God will speak to us.  God will remind us of whose we are.  And God will remind us of what we were created to do and be.  Now if you do not prefer being shouted at with the force of thunder, there are certainly easier ways to find that clarity.  Perhaps you work on that meditative breathing – either with a yoga class, by joining our new Contemplative Prayer Group, or just by committing to finding moments to breathe.  Perhaps you work on that meditative breathing by just showing up to church.  There are moments, especially in Lent, where you can find those quiet moments to listen to God – at the confession, during an especially moving song, or maybe as you sit in your pew before or after communion.  But just taking that hour for church can be your first step toward hearing God more clearly.  No matter where you make room for God, the promise is that when you do make room, the gift is a sense of calm that can make everything else melt away.  Those deadlines, those clamoring people in your life, that burden you have been carrying all fade into the background.  And your purpose – perhaps that part of you needs to die so that you might bear much fruit – becomes not only clear, but also refreshing, calming, and burden-lifting.  That is the promise for us today.  Whether you can take a deep breath or whether you need the jolting thunder – either way, God is breaking into our lives today and giving the gift of clarity.  Amen.

[i] Margaret A. Farley, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 140.

A season…

09 Wednesday Jul 2014

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I was talking to another parent recently about the different phases of childhood.  We both have children who are about five years old, but I also have an infant.  She confessed that having been through the development of her five year old, she could not imagine starting over with all that a baby entails – the diapers, bottles, interrupted sleep, and crying.  I sympathized with her, but I had to admit that my experience was quite different.  With my first child, every phase of development felt big and overwhelming.  I worried and fretted about how to meet each new challenge and how to adjust my life for each stage.  Only once a new phase started could I look back and appreciate what had actually been quite nice about the previous stage.

But with the second child, I am finding not a sense of overwhelmedness, but of familiar joy.  Though these first months have rough moments, I also now know that these first months have parts that are especially easy.  An infant does not need as much entertainment now as a child much older needs.  An infant can be left to her own devices for a short time without having to worry that she will crawl or walk around and get into something.  An infant does not feel irritated by long cuddles – in fact, she quite enjoys them.  Of course, there are many things that are easier at age five than they are at three months.  But what I am finding as a second-time parent is that by knowing how each phase changes your life, for good and for ill, I feel a lot more calm about the transitions and appreciative of the little gifts along the way.

What this second child has gifted me with is the invitation to be present.  She is reminding me that life evolves and changes, and I can either fret about and rigorously prepare for that – or I can simply be present in the moment, enjoying what today has to offer.  She has given life to that passage from Ecclesiastes which says, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…” (3.1) 

Of course my daughter has opened up this verse to me about parenting, but I know that this verse has truth for each stage of our adult life too.  As I have been praying on this verse, I have been in conversation with God about what season I am in, and what purposes God has for me right now.  That is not an easy conversation.  Many of us are so busy planning and doing, that we rarely take a moment to breathe in this “season,” and thank God for it.  We only have the gifts and challenges of this season of life once.  What purpose has God put you to this season?  How might you find and celebrate the joys of this season today?