Tag Archives: trust

Sermon – 1 Samuel 8.4-20, 11.14-14, P5, YB, June 10, 2018

13 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by in Sermons, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

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

Today we encounter one of the most pivotal moments in our faith history.  The story from First Samuel may not seem that momentous.  Surely the Flood, or the crossing of the Red Sea, or the arrival at the Promised Land, or, I don’t know, the birth, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ are more pivotal.  But this short piece of scripture contains something quite theologically significant in the covenantal relationship between God and God’s people.  Samuel has been a righteous prophet and judge for the people, but much like his predecessor Eli who we heard about last week, his sons have become corrupt leaders and the people are unhappy.  And so, the people suggest a solution:  a king.  In their minds this is a great solution.  A king could solve their problems, and most certainly would help protect them from enemies.  A king would dispense justice and mercy to foster right relationships among the people, would hold fast to the covenantal law, and would be appointed by God.  And they would still have prophets to act as their system of checks and balances.[i]  Besides, all the other nations have kings, why shouldn’t they?

The request sounds innocent enough.  As twenty-first century Americans, having no governing leader is inconceivable.  For us, the idea of a theocracy is so foreign, we almost have a hard time imagining the concept.  A king, or at least a president, sounds perfectly reasonable.  But for the people of God, a theocracy is all they have ever known.  “Since the time when Israel first became a nation, Israel had been a theocracy, a community guided and protected by YHWH.  They were set apart, distinctive from other nations, and they had no king as others nations did.  Israel was led by various judges whom God raised up in times of need.  These leaders included, among others, Moses, Miriam, Aaron, Deborah, Samson, Gideon, and Samuel, who served not as kings or queens but as mouthpieces for God as they arbitrated disputes, saw that justice was done, or led the people to victory over a threatening enemy.”[ii]  So this request for a king is a huge shift.  As Walter Brueggemann explains, “Their request is nothing less than a change in Israel’s foundational commitments….This request for a king is one more step in [a] continuing performance of mistrust.”[iii]  In other words, the people of God do not trust God, and out of their mistrust, they are willing to change the entire basis of their relationship with God.

Now if you were to ask me about my greatest spiritual struggle, I would likely say worry.  I have told countless people how much the Matthean text about worry has been a spiritual guide for me, “Consider the lilies of the field…do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”[iv]  My whole life I have thought my greatest struggle was worry.  But in reflecting this week, I am not sure my greatest issue is worry.  My greatest issue might be trust.  I worry because I do not trust – I do not trust God to make a way, so I strive and fail and strive again to make my own way.  I suspect I am not alone.  We all fail to trust God from time to time.  And any logical person would quietly support your lack of trust in God.  Because to trust in God seems naïve, lacks self-responsibility, and discredits our agency in the world.  Most of us read today’s Old Testament lesson, and secretly we agree with the Israelites.  Sure, there is no perfect form of government, but you have to have something!  We may jokingly or even figuratively ask Jesus to take the wheel, but we all know that we still need to drive the car.

But when we step away from a theocracy, when we change the foundational covenantal commitment between us and God, we must face the same fate as the Israelites.  Samuel tells them what having a king will mean.  Having a king will mean giving up their sons for service in battle and for the tending of the king’s fields, giving up their daughters as cooks and sexual servants, giving up their best land, livestock, and produce.  And worst of all – worst of all – they will be the king’s slaves.  Now for a people who have been enslaved before, this should be the ultimate warning.  All they need to do was think back to those days with Pharaoh – no rights, no power, brutal labor, no hope.  But then, God says something even worse.  When the Israelites finally see God is right and that the new king they wanted is a mess (and spoiler alert:  the new kings will be a mess – the kings do all that Samuel predicts and even more horrible things); when the Israelites cry out, God will not answer them.  This critical part of their relationship with God will be over.

These are the words that have haunted me this week, “…in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the LORD will not answer you in that day.”  Are there things I could do that would make God not answer me?  Is there a chance that on the two millionth time I refuse to trust God, our relationship could finally break?  Is there a chance we could have a government so broken by ego and lack of compassion and compromise that God would refuse to exert God’s power to redeem us?  A couple of years ago, we talked to our pediatrician about discipline and our frustration with our children’s constant pushing of boundaries.  The pediatrician recommended the “Three Rule.”  Instead of threatening punishments and consequences, instead of engaging in lengthy explanations about why behaviors were unacceptable and what the consequence would be, we should follow the “Three Rule.”  When a child does something unacceptable, the parent says, “one.”  No words are exchanged, no threats are made.  Just the number one.  If, or I guess I should say when, the behavior continues, the parent simply says, “two.”  Finally, when the behavior still continues, the parent says, “three,” and the child immediately goes to their room for a period of time commiserate with their age.  But, and here’s the kicker, when their time is up, there is no discussion, no scolding, just a return to normal.

Now I get a little wary of comparing God with a parent, since parents are just as flawed as kings, but here is what I appreciate about God in this text today.  God strikes me as a person who calmly works through the Three Rule.  So, although Samuel breaks the rule by going on an on about the consequences of a king, God does something extraordinary with the people of God’s request.  God says “okay.”  In a wonderful combination of “grace and judgment, the Lord commands Samuel to ‘listen’ to the people but also to ‘warn them and show them the ways of the king.’”  God does not smite the people or abandon the people.  God, as God always does, respects their free-will and allows the people of God to choose their fate – even if their choice is a fundamental altering of the very basis of their relationship with God.  There is something reassuring to me about a God who allows us full agency in our relationship – whose love is not tied to us making good decisions – and who can remain calm even when we are catastrophically proposing a fundamental change in our relationship with God.

But even more than God’s reaction, I am not convinced the judgment of God is as final as Samuel predicts.  We know God is a God who judges.  Lord knows the Israelites do indeed suffer the consequences of taking on a human king – their sons, daughters, and property are decimated, and eventually the kingdom is divided and ultimately destroyed, with the peoples scattered all over the world.  But we know a few things more about God.  We know that God’s mind can be changed.  We saw this reality firsthand when Moses advocated for mercy with the sinful people, or when Nineveh repented of their sins, or when some of those earthly kings changed their ways.  But mostly we know that God sends a Messiah – God’s only Son to redeem us.  Though judgment is a part of our relationship with God, so is redemption, forgiveness, and grace.  I am not sure I will ever master trusting God fully.  Perhaps I am just too human.  But our invitation this week is to keep trying.  Our invitation is to pause in those moments of mistrust and recount the wonderful deeds of our God.  Maybe you start with a scriptural mantra, “Noah, Abraham, Moses, Joshua, Hannah, Jonah, Ruth, Peter, Paul.”  But perhaps more importantly you start your own mantra, “That time when I walked away from God, that time when I blamed God, that time when I…”  We have seen God’s faithfulness, even through the sacrifice of God’s only Son.  But we have also seen God’s faithfulness every day of our earthly life.  Our invitation is to listen, as God listens to God’s people everyday.  Amen.

[i] Carol J. Dempsey, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays for Year B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 3.

[ii] Marianne Blickenstaff, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays for Year B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 1.

[iii] Walter Brueggemann, Interpretation:  A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preach, First and Second Samuel (Louisville:  John Knox Press, 1990), 62.

[iv] Matthew 6.28, 34

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

23 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in Sermons, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sermon – Matthew 4.1-11, Genesis 2.15-17, 3.1-7, L1, YA, March 5, 2017

08 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by in Sermons, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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

On this first Sunday in Lent, I usually like to talk about Lenten disciplines.  The season of Lent is one of the few times in the Church that we take a hard look at our faith life and then actually commit to doing something tangible to strengthen our walk with Christ.  When I hear about your disciplines, I get some clue as to what feeds each of you spiritually – whether you long to connect with Holy Scripture, or hope to deepen your prayer life; whether you know that denial of certain parts of your life will create a needed discomfort or disruption, or instead find taking up something to create needed transformation; whether you are motivated by something fun and engaging (like Lent Madness), or you prefer something more philosophical (like our Lenten study group focusing on the spirituality of the Eucharist).  Lenten disciplines also give me a tiny clue about what sinful behaviors have been pulling you away from God.  As we prayed the Great Litany today, there were countless options:  pride, vainglory, hypocrisy, envy, hatred, malice, desires of the flesh, and hardness of heart.  Or, perhaps you are inspired to help one of those we prayed for in the Litany:  the lonely, the sick, the homeless, the imprisoned, broken families, the oppressed, or those suffering injustice.  There really is no wrong way to approach Lenten disciplines – that we are taking them on demonstrates a commitment to enriching our faith and growing closer to God.

Given the beginning of those practices, the text of Jesus’ temptation every year on this first Sunday in Lent has always seemed most appropriate.  How better to encourage us to engage in repentance and reformation than to remember that Jesus too was tempted – tempted to ease the discomfort of hunger, tempted to test God’s loyalty and support, and tempted to take on power – even if ill-gotten – for the greater good?  And even better that this year in Lent, we get that powerful lesson from Hebrew Scriptures of Adam and Eve’s temptation – the temptation to eat beautiful fruit, to learn what God knows but won’t tell us, to take control of our destiny.  And all of those temptations would be plenty.  But what has been striking me more powerfully this year has been what is at the root of the temptations of Satan.  You see, in all of those tests for Jesus, and even in the simple offering of forbidden fruit, Satan does something even more insidious.  Through his temptations, Satan works to undermine our relationship with God – to sow the seed of mistrust that promises to unravel the very foundation of our faith.

We can talk all we want about deepening our faith, working on our sinful behaviors, or becoming better Christians in Lent.  But much scarier to talk about is the power of evil to undo our faith altogether.  Many of us know the darkness of this power from Satan.  If we have not had a spiritual identity crisis in our lives, someone we know has.  Enough people around us die, enough suffering happens in the world, enough pain comes our way that slowly we begin to wonder if God cares at all.  We watch what Christians do to one another or how they fail to care for one another, we see the misdeeds of the Church, or the Church’s clergy disappoint us, and slowly, slowly, we begin to doubt God is even present.  As I have been watching the news, as our country becomes more deeply divided, as suffering seems to be epidemic, and as we dehumanize one another, sometimes institutionalizing that dehumanization, I see the power of evil planting seed after seed of mistrust.  Who hasn’t asked, “Where is God?” in the last year?  Who hasn’t thought, “Maybe I should stop trusting God, and start taking care of things myself.”?  Who hasn’t wondered if God is slipping into irrelevance as the world falls apart around us?

As I have pondered the temptations of Adam, Eve, and Jesus, the power of evil to corrupt has been much more powerful, potent, and pressing this year.  The “crafts and assaults of the devil” and the desire to “beat down Satan under our feet”[i] we heard in the Great Litany are much more powerful in our current climate.  I am much less worried about Adam and Eve’s original sin than I am worried about their original insecurity.  The serpent comes along and sews mistrust among Adam and Eve.  He starts out with a simple question, “Did God really say…”  And so begins the serpent’s assault on their relationship with God – misrepresenting and undermining God’s instructions, suggesting God is keeping something from them.  And as scholar David Lose suggests, once this primary relationship is undermined, Adam and Eve are “susceptible to the temptation to forge their identity on their own, independent on their relationship with God, and so take and eat the forbidden fruit… [They] forget whose they are and so lose themselves in the temptation to secure their identity on their own.”[ii]  Though Adam and Eve’s sin is grave, how the serpent gets them there is much scarier to me.

Satan attempts to do the very same thing with Jesus.  “The devil also tries to undermine Jesus’ relationship with God by suggesting [the relationship] is not secure, that he should test [the relationship] by throwing himself off the mountain, or that he should go his own way by creating food for himself, or that he should seek the protection and patronage of the devil rather than trust God’s provision.”[iii]  Satan is good!  He even tries to twist Jesus’ use of scripture to convince Jesus of God’s unworthiness of trust.  What is frightening about Satan’s tactics is that he is not just about tempting us to do bad things.  He is meddling in our relationship with God, sewing distrust, confusion, questioning our identity as beloved children of God.  And that kind of meddling leads to much worse problems than poor behavior.  Satan tries to upend who we are.

Last week, we baptized two members into the household of faith.  We talked about how baptism marks for us who and whose we are.  We gave thanks for the reminder and celebrated as a community.  We were not unlike Adam and Eve, who upon their creation, God says it is very good.  We were not unlike Jesus, who at his own baptism, which occurs immediately before his temptation today, God says, “This is my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  But Satan takes goodness and blessedness, and tries to taint that goodness and blessedness with doubt, mistrust, and insecurity.  He tries to confuse us, making us forget who and whose we are.

Several years ago, the movie The Help debuted.  In the film, there is a maid who cares for a child who gets a lot of verbal abuse from her mother.  In several key scenes, the maid takes the child aside and teaches the child a mantra of sorts.  In her rough grammar, she reminds the child, “You is smart, you is kind, you is important.”  Eventually the maid is fired, and the audience is left hoping that the mantra she taught the child will remind her that no matter what verbal abuse she receives, she can remember who she is – smart, kind, and important.

We do not always have caretakers in our lives who will instill in us a mantra that holds us in the face of adversity.  But we do have a church.  We have a church that will tell us we are made in the image of God, that our very creation is rooted in goodness, and that we are beloved children of God.  When we begin to be assaulted by the power of evil, which would rather us question our identity, the church reminds of us of our baptismal covenant, our identity-making set of promises, which tells us we are enough, there is plenty to go around, and we need not live in fear.  While the forces of evil will try to isolate us and send us into questions of identity, the church comes together every week to remind us that we are beloved children of God – a people of value, worth, and purpose.[iv]

I do not know what spiritual discipline you are taking up for Lent this year.  But if you do nothing else this Lent, come to church.  Come gather with the community that reminds you who and whose you are.  Come be with a people who are also assaulted by the doubts, questions, and fears of the day, but who ground themselves in their identity, and find meaning, encouragement, and purpose in this place.  Come.  Together, we will stamp down Satan under our feet as we shine light on our God who redeems, reveres, and renews us.  Amen.

[i] BCP, 151-152.

[ii] David Lose, “Lent 1A:  Identity as Gift and Promise,” February 28, 2017, as found at http://www.davidlose.net/2017/02/lent-1-a-identity-as-gift-and-promise/ on March 2, 2017.

[iii] Lose.

[iv] Lose.

Is this me?

20 Wednesday Jul 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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

Changing room

Photo credit:  www.womansday.com/style/fashion/a6531/dressing-room-tips/

Those of you who know me well know that I am not a fashionista.  Though I manage to look pulled-together, that comes with a lot of help – mostly from my patient, much more fashionable husband.  I am constantly asking if things match, if certain shoes go with a particular outfit, or if certain accessories are right.  Over the years, my husband has learned to push me out of my comfort zone (as much as I will allow).  But in trying new looks or styles, invariably the question arises, “Is this me?”

As I have gotten older, I have begun to realize that I am the only one who can answer that question, “Is this me?”  Sometimes the answer is an obvious, “No!”  If I do not like the message the outfit sends, or if I know I will be fidgeting from discomfort, then I will never be confident in the look.  But sometimes the answer is, “It could be – if you want it to be.”  An outfit that obviously fits into your comfort zone does not need analyzing.  It is safe.  But one that is neither safely in the comfort zone nor way out of the comfort zone is in that sweet spot where you have to decide how bold and creative you want to be.  Because sometimes those new shoes bring out something adventurous in you.  Sometimes that new dress makes you a bit more self-assured.  And sometimes that accessory pulls out something inside of you that you did not realize was there.

That question, “Is this me?” is the same question Hickory Neck has been asking in these last months.  We have been through a pretty tremendous transition in leadership and identity.  When I started in April, many of you wondered what having a female rector with young children would look like.  Holding on to the memories of our two most recent rectors, and looking at this new rector, many of us wondered, “Is this me?”  And, then, just this past Sunday, we tried on something else – a Curate.  Now, Hickory Neck has been a two-clergy parish for many years in its past.  But the financial strain of transition and the uncertainty about identity has caused many to wonder if being a two-clergy parish is who we are now.

As our new curate has been settling into his office, I have been thinking that sometimes, the only way to answer the question, “Is this me?” is to just go for it.  Part of the equation will necessitate us being bold enough to live into a new identity under new leadership.  Like with a bold new outfit, we have to put our minds to living fully into the path we have chosen for our future.  But the other part of the equation is remembering how, like putting on a bold new outfit, sometimes our confidence will rise in spite of ourselves.  Just by living into our new identity, our sense of adventure, creativity, and confidence will grow.  Change is hard, and I know many of us this week may be wondering, “Is this me?”  For those of you asking that question, I encourage you to trust that God is at work for goodness among us – pushing us into that sweet spot where tremendous ministry can happen.  I don’t know about you, but I am pretty excited to live into our new look!

On change…

20 Wednesday Apr 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

A baby crying it out.

Photo credit:  www.slate.com/articles/double_x/the_kids/2013/07/clinical_lactation_jumps_on_the_dr_sears_bandwagon_to_say_sleep_training.html

Once upon a time, I had a parishioner complain to me, “I knew you were going to change things.  I just didn’t know it was going to be all at once!”  At the time, her complaint seemed unwarranted to me.  I did not feel that the changes were all at once at all.  In fact, I was careful not to change things all at once, but made changes slowly and methodically.  Though we talked through her concerns, I remember thinking flippantly that no one really likes change and perhaps that was the real source of her complaint.

This week, I have a lot more sympathy for that parishioner.  My family’s life has been upended by change.  Most of the change has been good – new jobs, new schools, and a new home.  There has been a flurry of activity, and the excitement of a move has carried us through.  Of course, I had forgotten how hard and time-consuming unpacking can be.  I also totally forgot that our young children would be having their own reactions to the move.  But we hit a breaking point Sunday night.  Our two-year-old decided it would be a great time to finally figure out how to get out of her crib.  So for about two hours we went back and forth trying to figure out ways to cajole her into going to sleep.  Of course, the developmental milestone of getting out of one’s crib was to be expected.  But that change on top of everything else made me want to cry, “I knew things were going to change.  But does it have to be all at once?!?”

The truth is, I do not think that the pace of change really matters.  I think what really matters is who gets to make the decision about the change.  When we are making changes ourselves or when we have control over the decision among a group, change does not feel so unsettling.  By having decision-making authority, we feel some modicum of control over the situation.  But when someone else is making decisions that impact us and that change what we are used to, we feel powerless, even if the change is for the better.

Having had the experience with my two-year-old, I am reminded of my need to be sensitive to others’ feelings about change and control as I begin a new pastoral relationship at Hickory Neck Episcopal Church.  Knowing how it feels to have everything changing at once, I will try to be more intentional about communicating, educating, and getting buy-in.  Change is most certainly coming – for me and for the community.  My hope is that we can love one another through the change and trust God and one another in the process.  There will be times when change feels like it is happening all at once.  But there will also be moments when we look back and say, “I guess that wasn’t so bad!  In fact, it was really good.”  Here’s to an exciting, supportive, and encouraging journey!

On hope and falling…

29 Friday Jan 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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

hope2

Photo credit:  http://fscaston.org/events/advent-retreat/

This time of year, clergy and parish offices are in the throes of Lent and Easter planning.  Although the average parishioner will ease their way into the Lenten journey, the clergy and parish office are already ordering supplies for Holy Week and Easter celebrations, having mostly confirmed everything for Lent.  Though that reality may not be a surprise, what you may not realize is how challenging it is to hold two very different seasons in one’s heart and mind with authenticity.  It is hard to plan for Easter when we haven’t journeyed through the forty days of Lent.  It is difficult to jump to the command to rejoice, when we have not yet mourned Christ’s death.

Many of my parishioners will be the first to tell you how much they loathe Lent.  They love the joy of Christmas and Easter, and even enjoy the beauty of Epiphany and the season of Pentecost.  But Lent feels like a season of imposed darkness and gloom.  They do not like the dreary hymns and the long, sad journey and examination of our sinfulness.  My response is always the same:  how can we celebrate at the tomb if we haven’t mourned at the cross?

But as we have done our planning for Easter this year, I realized how insensitive I have been in my question.  The truth is I am only able to sit at the foot of the cross because I am fortunate enough to know what waits on the other side.  The disciples, followers, and family of Jesus did not have that luxury.  Their darkness was real, their fears justified, and their doubts reasonable and expected.  I do not mean to suggest that we “pretend” our way through Lent as some sort of contrived experience in repentance.  Instead, what I realize is that the only way I am able to explore my own sinfulness and depravity so deeply and authentically is because of the promise of and hope in the resurrection.  I am able to fall because I know Christ will catch me.  That does not mean the falling is any less scary.  No one likes to really delve into their brokenness and confess their faults to our God.  But we do so out of the promise of a God who loves us no matter what.

I hope you will explore our Lenten offerings at St. Margaret’s this year and take full advantage of a time for true self-examination and prayer.  Our God and the Church are journeying with you.  You are not alone, and you can trust in the never-failing love of Christ to catch you!

Sermon – 1 Samuel 8.4-20, 11.14-15, P5, YB, June 7, 2015

17 Wednesday Jun 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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

One of the movies I enjoyed growing up was called Freaky Friday.  The movie debuted in the seventies starring a young Jodie Foster, but they remade the movie in 2003 with Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan.  The premise of the movie is a mother and her teenage daughter are at each other’s throats.  They are constantly fighting, arguing that the other person cannot possible understand the difficulties she is facing.  On one fateful Friday morning, the two make a flippant wish.  With great gusto and anger they both say, “I wish you could live in my shoes for just one day!”  Of course the two get their wish, and spend a crazy day trapped in the body of the other.  There are fun mishaps like the under-aged daughter trying to figure out how to drive a car and spending lots of mom’s money which is suddenly at her disposal.  There are also those stressful moments as the mom tries to take a high school test on material she has long since forgotten or trying to navigate being teased at school.  By the end of the movie, both mother and daughter are frazzled by the demands on them, overwhelmingly regretful of their wish, and just want to go back to life the way it was.  They have to work together to figure out how to reverse the wish, which basically includes coming to a point of fully appreciating the difficulties each of them faces in life and loving each other deeply.

Unfortunately, there was no Freaky Friday for the people of Israel in Samuel’s time.  Samuel had been a great prophet for the people, teaching them the ways of God.  But Samuel was aging, and his sons were proving they would not be able to fill Samuel’s shoes, as they were corrupt and abusive.  Normally, the people of Israel would have been on their own until God decided to elect another prophet for them.  But the people of Israel felt threatened.  There were great powers all around them, many of which were battling for power and control.  The Israelites looked to those nations and noticed one major difference between themselves and the other countries – kings!  And so, with great gusto they had Samuel ask God to give them a king.  Now, we have to understand how petulant the Israelites sound.  In their immaturity, they whine, “We want a king!  All the other kids have kings, and we need one too.  Then we will be guaranteed to be protected!”  Samuel is outraged on God’s behalf.  Asking for a king is tantamount to admitting that the people of God do not trust God to protect them.  They are basically asking to totally change their centuries-old relationship with God – no longer being governed by God, but being governed by a human being.  God agrees to grant their wish, but advises Samuel first to warn them about what they are asking.  Samuel does – like a parent, he rips into them about what they can expect – to give up their young men to fight in wars, to give up their young women for service to the empire, for their livestock and best fields to be taken by the king.  And when they begin to sense the injustice of the king, God will not answer their cries.  And of course, like a petulant child, the people demand their king anyway.

Who among us has not similarly negotiated with God?  We take the higher paying job even though something in our gut tells us we should not.  Years later we find ourselves unhappy and unfulfilled.  We stay in romantic relationships that are not life-giving because we are more afraid of being alone than we are of being in an unsatisfying relationship.  We spend more and more money trying to fill a void in ourselves, even though we know the void never goes away.  Like the people of Israel we turn away from God, trying to control and protect our lives, while God longs for us to instead turn toward God.

Here is what I love about this story though:  God actually had a fair amount of choices in this story.  God could have smote the people for their disloyalty.  God could have simply refused and told them to get on with life.  God could have negotiated or come up with a compromise.  Instead, God respects the people’s free-will.  God presents the disadvantages of taking on a human king; but then God lets the people choose – even choose the wrong choice.  I find God’s action encouraging because God’s action tells us a lot about our relationship with God.  God actions show us that our free-will is so important to God, that God will not rule over us like a dictator, but will let us make our own decisions – even when our decisions are not very good ones.  That kind of relationship between us teaches us that God respects us, empowers us to make decisions, and let’s us have a fair amount of control in our lives.

But even more encouraging than God respecting our free will is that fact that God can make everything good anyway.  The people of Israel did in fact make a poor choice that they paid for dearly – all that Samuel predicted came true in the person of King Solomon.  But God also made their poor decision great “in the form of a Davidic dynasty with a historical significance beyond measure.”[i]  The human choice of an Israelite king would later be redeemed through the coming of Jesus of Nazareth – descended from that same line.[ii]  If God can redeem a centuries old poor decision, surely God can redeem the many poor decisions we make in life.  And that is good news!  Amen.

[i] Roger Nam, “Commentary on 1 Samuel 8:4-11 [12-15] 16-20 [11:14-15]” as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2472 on June 3, 2015.

[ii] Patrick J. Willson, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Yr. B, Proper 5 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 6

Sermon – Mark 1.21-28, E4, YB, February 1, 2015

03 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

I have often joked that of all the people in the world who needed to become a parent, I was one of them.  I say this because I am a person who likes routine and order.  I like things done a certain way, and prefer to have a sense of control over things.  Of course, this is one of those areas in life with which God and I often struggle.  Jesus even teaches about the need to let go of control and trust God.  Whenever I read that passage I nod in assent, remembering the many times God has proven God’s self to be trustworthy.  I put up my hands in defeat, and try to trust God.  And then about 48 hours later, I am sneaking back to grab the reins again.

That is why parenthood has been so good for me.  Parenthood challenges this weakness over and over again.  My eldest is at the age where she wants to do things herself.  This is a good and natural development.  But for someone who likes a sense of control, this good and natural development can be maddening.  I cannot count the number of times I have had to literally bite my tongue instead of jumping in with some explanation about a better way to do a task.  I cannot count the number of times I have had to clinch my hands to prevent myself from just taking over a task, so that the task would be done the correct, and often faster, way.  Sometimes I wonder whether God is chuckling to God’s self when God sees me fumbling through this reality with my children over and over again.

The people who had gathered at the synagogue in Mark’s gospel lesson today have a similar experience.  They are not unlike most of us here.  Every week they go to temple, following the same pattern of worship, expecting the same experiences.  There is a certain comfort for them knowing what to expect.  They have learned to watch how the scribes debate and have a dialogue about the traditions.[i]  This is how they learn and decipher truth and is a natural part of their weekly experience at temple.  But today is different.  Today there is a new teacher in synagogue, and he is doing things all wrong.  His teaching style is more declarative than deliberative.[ii]  For some reason he teaches with tremendous authority, as if he really is sure of what God would say or think about certain things.  Jesus is not following the rules, and those gathered at the temple have no idea what to make of him.  He even is able to exorcise an unclean spirit out one of the worshippers who is present.  They had not even realized the man had an unclean spirit, and here Jesus is, casting the spirit out.  How did he know?  Where did Jesus get the idea that he had the power to do such a thing?

If ever we doubted that we come from a long line of faithful Jews, today is the day we realize how closely related we are.  I cannot count the number of times I have heard this same conversation at Church.  Why did the priest use that prayer today?  We never use that prayer.  Why did the Vestry make that decision?  We never used to do things that way.  Why did the Activities Committee change that event?  We never do the event that way.  I have sat in many a meeting discussing a change or a new way of doing something and invariably someone will say, “If we change this someone might get upset.”  After many years of experience, my response has finally become, “When we change this, someone will definitely be upset.”  That statement may sound obvious or maybe even sound judgmental or harsh.  But what I have come to find is that expecting that change is unsettling and makes people upset actually makes the wave of resistance to that change not a frustrating thing, but a happily expected reaction.  In fact, a wise old priest once told me, “If you are not upsetting people, you are not doing your job.”

Just the other day, my oldest daughter and I were making scrambled eggs.  She was fumbling through breaking the eggs.  I must have picked out two or three shell pieces that day.  Then she was stirring the eggs so haphazardly, my tongue started hurting again.  My clenched hands had to strain to stay at my sides to avoid “just taking over this one part.”  We all do it – and not just with children.  We think we know a better way to accomplish a task, so instead of inviting someone to help us, we do the work on our own.  We know the historical way something has been done and we forcefully teach a volunteer that way instead of hearing their idea of how to do something differently.  Instead of a shared, collaborative ministry, we take over a task ourselves because we can get the task done faster and more efficiently if we do not have to sit around a talk about the many options available.

But you know what happened when I bit my tongue and pinned my hands to my sides that day?  The eggs tasted just as good as they always do.  Though I could have had a stress-free cooking process otherwise, you know what else happened?  My daughter had a big, proud smile on her face when we devoured those yummy scrambled eggs.  I have seen the same thing happen here at St. Margaret’s.  When I started team teaching with other adults, we gained some tremendous and transformative teaching material.  When we let some excited volunteers start a community garden, we not only fed the hungry in our neighborhood, we also made some new friends by letting our neighbors, AHRC, help water the garden.  When we revamped our family Christmas Eve service, we found that the service attracted new people, and in fact has become more popular than our once favored midnight mass.

I have been thinking this week about that man with the unclean spirit in today’s gospel.  The funny thing is that no one seemed to notice the man beforehand.[iii]  Had the leaders of worship and learning been in control that day, the man might have come to temple and left temple equally tortured.  He may have come hoping someone would notice his pain and suffering and left realizing that no one could really appreciate the depths of his struggle.  But because Jesus is there, teaching in a way that only the Holy One of God can, the unclean spirit reveals himself, and is cast out by Jesus.  Had Jesus not been there, doing things the “wrong” way, the poor afflicted man may have never been cleansed and given new life.

I wonder what ways we are not like the scribes and those gathered at the temple.  I wonder how our way of insisting on the familiar blocks us from seeing unmet needs.  I wonder how our reliance on ourselves and our guarding of control forbids new life from breaking in and shining new light into our community.  Today we will pray the Litany for Healing.  Every month we make space for people to come forward for healing prayers.  Most of us come forward for some physical ailment we are facing or for healing prayers for a loved one.  But our healing prayers do not just have to be prayers for the healing of our bodies.  They can also be prayers for healing our spirits.  If an unclean spirit has taken over you – like a spirit of control or manipulation – perhaps today is the day you ask God to release that spirit from you.  Or perhaps you have lost a sense of joy or connection.  God can heal that brokenness today too.  Or perhaps you know that you need God’s healing, but you cannot articulate the brokenness, even to yourself.  Our healing prayers can be for you too.  Much like Jesus could see the unclean spirit when others could not, my guess is that Jesus knows what is troubling your heart today too – even if you cannot articulate that pain yourself.  And much like that day at the temple, albeit in a way that was unusual, uncomfortable, and unexpected, Jesus can work in you, casting out the darkness and blasting through with light.  Amen.

[i] Matt Skinner, “Commentary on Mark 1.21-28,” as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2343 on January 28, 2015.

[ii] Skinner.

[iii] Ofelia Ortega, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 310.

Sermon – Matthew 25.1-13, P27, YA, November 9, 2014

12 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

I am fortunate in that I do not have a long commute to work.  But there have been a few times when I have needed to take the Long Island Railroad during morning rush hour.  What I found fascinating about those trips is how people use their time on the train.  Most people are on their phones, probably doing any number of things:  scanning email, sending a few quick texts, checking Facebook, reading the news.  Some people are reading the paper:  catching up on the headlines, reading the sports page, or checking the financial reports.  Others use their hour on the train to catch up on sleep.  That one always scares me – how people sleep lightly enough not to miss their stop is beyond me.  And I suppose there are a few people like me, who enjoy the people watching.  But those are rarely the morning regulars – they got over that fascination a long time ago and chose some other way to spend their time.

We make choices every day:  how we spend our money, what we will do with free evenings, what groups we want to be involved in, and with whom we want to spend our time.  What we do while commuting is just one example of the myriad choices available to us on a given day.  But over time, those choices begin to shape who we are.  Those choices begin to define whether we are an avid reader, someone who is connected to the goings-on of the world, someone who is physically fit, or someone who is known for their volunteer work.  What seem like inconsequential decisions, like regularly watching a TV show, a standing appointment with a friend for dinner, or joining a civic group, slowly begin to shape a life.  Those little choices we make day in and day out shape who we are and what our life is really about.  In my line of work, I go to a lot of funerals, and that is one of the consistent things I see:  the choices a person makes over time informs who they are.  So in a eulogy, someone is described a devoted mother, or an avid sailor, or an advocate for the poor.

Our gospel lesson today is all about how our choices matter.[i]  The most obvious choice we see is the choice by the foolish bridesmaids not to bring extra oil.  Actually, the foolish bridesmaids make two choices.  First, they choose not to bring extra oil, perhaps assuming the groom will not be long.  Second, once they realize they are out of oil and the others are not going to share, they choose to go buy more.  Neither of their choices is illogical really.  Based on the customs of the time, the maids should not have needed extra oil.[ii]  Their choice not to bring extra oil is a perhaps presumptuous, but not scandalous.  The second choice is reactionary.  The wise bridesmaids tell them to go and they do – in the middle of the night, the foolish maids make an impetuous decision that ends up costing them greatly.  The foolish maids’ choices create a world fraught with risk – where split-second decisions leave the maids with little footing in a world that is constantly throwing choices at them

But the foolish bridesmaids are not the only ones making choices in our parable today.  The wise ones make choices too.  When faced with the needs of the oil-less bridesmaids, the wise bridesmaids send the foolish ones away to get their own oil.  They do not consider sharing their oil or allowing the foolish ones to stand with them.  Quite frankly, they should not have to share.  They have thoughtfully constructed a world in which careful planning and preparation pay off in great rewards.  Their choices have lead to a world in which everyone fends for themselves, where pity is not necessary, and boundaries are clear and concise.

And of course, the bridegroom makes a choice too.  When the foolish bridesmaids knock at the door, the groom has a choice:  he can justifiably send them away since they were not considerate enough to be ready and waiting for him; or he can be forgiving and graciously allow them into the celebration.  The choice of the groom to close the door leads to a world in which mistakes are severely punished and there are no second chances.

This parable is one of those parables that does not leave us feeling good about the world.  In fact, the choices of the characters in the parable depict a world that is marked by rigidity, scarcity, and lacking in forgiveness.  We know this world all too well.  All we have to do is listen to the current debate in the United States about immigration.  Whenever we debate the issue of what to do with illegal immigrants, the arguments are similarly marked by rigidity, scarcity, and a lack of forgiveness.  We worry about the drain on our resources with illegal immigrants – the health care, education, and social services needed for them.  We worry about the jobs they will be taking from legal citizens.  And we worry about our capacity for compassion – I have heard many argue that we cannot save every child in the world by welcoming them here.  All of those fears are valid.  And so we draw boundaries, we put up limits, and we say no.  We make choices that shape our experience as Americans.  And like the bridesmaids with extra oil, our decisions could probably be labeled as wise.

Although that wisdom is usually praiseworthy, and is clearly praised in our lesson today, for some reason, that wisdom does not sit well with me this week.  Instead, I have found myself wondering what other choices the three characters in this story could have made. [iii]  The foolish bridesmaids could have simply chosen to stay.  Sure, they would have had to risk being in the dark for a while, and leaning into the light of others.  They may even have had to plead their case with the groom once he arrived.  But at least they would have been there.  They could have stayed.  Staying would have been scary and made them vulnerable.  But they could have chosen to stay.  Meanwhile, the wise bridesmaids could have chosen to either share their oil, or stand side-by-side with the foolish ones, letting their light shine the way for both of them.  Sure, they were within their right to refuse.  They are the ones who thought ahead and did the right thing.  But they could have chosen another way.  They could have chosen to share their abundance with the foolish.  The bridegroom had a choice too.  The groom had every right to refuse entry to the foolish maids – based on what he knew, they were late and unprepared.  He had no obligation to let in people to his celebration who do not care enough about him to be prepared to wait for him.  But the groom could have chosen to let them in anyway.  He could have chosen gracious hospitality, even to the undeserving maids.

I recently had a conversation with another parent about creating healthy eating habits for children.  She was explaining to me a philosophy in which parents let children guide their own eating choices.  So instead of serving children the healthy food first and then bringing out the dessert, the parent is to put everything out on the table and allow the child to serve themselves.  The argument is that through experience, the child will eventually learn that loading up a plate with dessert leaves the child unsatisfied, if not sick.  Over time, the child will learn what foods make her feel good, what portions she needs to feel full, and how to plan her plate accordingly.  Truthfully the idea sounded crazy to me – like some hippy, permissive parenting that would lead to malnourished, unruly children and wasted healthy food.  But then again, I tend to choose a world guided by structure and order imposed from an authority.  This parent was suggesting a different kind of world guided by trust, that makes room for growth through mistakes, and that leads by example.

That is the funny thing about choices.  Our choices shape our world.  Most people read today’s gospel and think:  Okay, the moral of the story is to choose preparedness and alertness and when Jesus returns, we will be ready.  But instead, the moral of this story might be that the choices that we make shape our world – and our choices may not be as obvious as we think.  So yes, we can choose to live lives with strict boundaries and rules, lives that are guarded and have limits, and lives that are grounded in consequences.  We can also choose to live lives that are grounded in forgiveness, that make room for mistakes, and that make us uncomfortable, but also make room for joy.  Sometimes those choices will be obvious: when we actively decide to forgive someone who has wronged us or when we purposefully decide to share our resources even though the other does not deserve our generosity.  But sometimes the choices will not be so obvious:  when we commit to a new ministry, even if we are not sure where that ministry will take us or what that ministry will demand of us; when we choose to give up some of our disposable income to support the work of this church, even if we are not sure we can spare the money; or when we give up some of our family’s outside commitments so that we can be more present in the life and work of the church.  Those choices demand sacrifice, vulnerability, and work.  But those choices might also be the choices that make someone say at our funeral, “He loved the Lord, he loved the church, and he boldly lived a life of trust and abundance.  And look where his life led.”  Amen.

[i] Anthony B. Robinson, “Choices that Matter,” Christian Century, vol. 110, no. 29, October 20, 1993, 1011.

[ii] John M. Buchanan, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 286.

[iii] David R. Henson, “The Breaking of the Bridesmaids: Rethinking a Problematic Parable” as found at http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidhenson/2014/11/the-breaking-of-the-bridesmaids-how-scripture-undermines-a-parable/ as posted on November 3, 2014.

Stepping out on faith…

23 Thursday Oct 2014

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

Control is something I write about a lot.  Perhaps I write about it so much because I never quite master giving up my desire for control back to God.  I am reminded of the book, Divergent, by Veronica Roth.  In it, the dauntless faction seeks to master its fears through simulations.  In the book there is disagreement about whether fears can ever actually be mastered or whether the work is just recognizing the fear and its cues, and then modifying one’s bodily response to those fears.

If you asked me this week whether I was in the “never mastering fears” camp, the answer would be a resounding yes.  As someone who values control, my life has felt totally out of control this week.  It started with a standby jury summons – every day this week I could not know the fate of my day until 5:00 pm the night beforehand.  So I was already in a state of ambiguity, hoping my childcare arrangement for the day would work.  Then, just as the week was starting, I received a late night pastoral care call night, necessitating a visit in the wee hours of the night.  Two nights later my youngest daughter had one of “those” nights: uncontrollable crying, waking up everyone in the house, and leaving us all weary.  Even as I sit waiting to be called for voir dire, I wonder what will happen today.  Needless to say, this creature of control is being pushed to the limit.

This experience is especially interesting to me as I think about what is happening at St. Margaret’s.  We are approaching our Annual Meeting in December, where we present our budget for 2015.  We do not know what our pledges will be this year yet, especially because some of our older members are quite frail.  So during budget planning, our Vestry had to step out on faith with an estimated budget – in fact, a budget that expects a deficit.  And yet, here we are, stepping into the great unknown, praying that God and the people are with us.

As I plod through my stressfully ambiguous week, I appreciate what kind of ambiguity and risk our Vestry has assumed.  But I especially appreciate their faith, hope, and confidence.  They are inspiring us to embrace generosity – generosity of our time, talent, and treasure.  I am grateful for the powerful witness this week.  They are an inspiration to me and the entire parish.