From Donald Miller's Blog: "Following God and Farming"

Donald Miller has a great post at his blog, and I'm really resonating with the themes he brings up, and found his words encouraging. The first year in ministry in a new setting is a year (for me at least) that is trying to find that tricky balance between just getting to know where you're at and being so full of ideas that you want to try out.

Excerpt:

"Years ago, when Rick McKinley started the church plant Imago-Dei in Portland, he preached a sermon about his own experiences in the first year. At the time, the church may have only had a couple-hundred people attending. At the time, he said he thought things would be more exciting, that there would be fireworks all the time. But as he prayed about building the church, he realized that telling a great story is a lot like farming. He recalled hunting on some property in Eastern Oregon, sitting in a duck blind, watching a farmer a couple fields away just driving his tractor back and forth. Rick said that is what building a church looks like, it looks like farming. It figures, because, well, God invented farming. Now, Imago-Dei has a couple thousand people attending, and the ministry affects nearly every corner of Portland. But it happened slowly, with a farmer who kept driving his tractor back and forth in a small field.

So two questions I’m asking myself these days are what is my field to plow, and am I plowing it?"

Sermon for Transfiguration, "Beyond the Veil"

Sermon 2/14/10, Exodus 34:29-35, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2, Luke 9:28-36

Beyond the Veil

Can you think of times when someone’s face has seemed particularly radiant to you? Many people of course comment that pregnant women have a glow about them – something on their face that tells the precious thing they’re carrying with them. On this Valentine’s Day, maybe we can think of the look shared between two that are just about to be married at a wedding ceremony, while they are saying vows and exchanging rings and waiting for the pastor to announce them married. I think children’s faces can have a radiant glow, when they just throw back their heads and laugh at something that strikes them funny, with their eyes sparking with pure joy.

Have you ever encountered someone whose face was so radiant that it was hard to look at? Think of how we know that it can damage your vision to look directly into the sunlight. It’s simply too bright, too powerful for us to gaze at for any length of time, on a clear day. Yesterday I was driving west along Route 5 just at sunset, and the sun was so bright that people kept slowing down in traffic, because it was ironically so bright that it was hard to see.

If you keep these images in mind, you might have an easier time grasping today’s special day. Today is Transfiguration Sunday. It’s one of those strange Sundays that’s a special day on the Liturgical Calendar, but that no one really knows about or understands or gets excited about. It’s the last Sunday before the season of Lent begins, the last Sunday in-between season after Epiphany. And it marks the day when Jesus is ‘transfigured’ on the mountain, in the presence of Peter and John and James. Transfigured here means that Jesus’ appearance changes in a way that his glory, his divinity, becomes particularly transparent, easy for the disciples there to witness. Now why does this event get its own special Sunday in our calendar? I hope after we study our texts today we’ll see more clearly.

Our three scripture lessons weave together perfectly today. First, we read in Exodus a passage about how the people react to Moses after he comes down from the mountain, having encountered God. Moses has been spending time on Mount Sinai receiving commandments from God, which will be the law of the people. And mountains, throughout the scriptures, represent holy ground places where people can go to be close to God. We don’t find it so different today, perhaps – people often find mountain-tops to be awe-inspiring, if not holy places, and people often refer to encounters with the holy and spiritual highs as “mountain-top experiences.” So, when Moses comes down from the mountain, his face is shining, glowing, because of his encounter with God. But somehow, the people find Moses difficult to look at – his shining face makes them uncomfortable, fearful. And so Moses starts wearing a veil when he comes down the mountain, so that the people can listen to his message from God without having to be so frightened. The veil is a distancing device – Moses gets close to God, but the people seem too afraid to ever draw too close, even to Moses. The veil separates them from the reflection of God’s holiness in Moses’ face.

In our lesson from 2 Corinthians, Paul picks up on this very passage. Paul says through the Spirit, through Christ, we have hope, that allows us to act with boldness. He sees followers of Jesus in contrast with Moses and the Israelites. “When one turns to the Lord,” he says, “the veil is removed . . . and all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image.” In other words, when the veil is removed, God is allowed to shine through us, be reflected back at us, so that we are actually transformed by our encounter with God. Essentially, Paul sees that the Israelites seemed to remain at a distance from God. But in Christ, that distance is overcome, and not only to we experience closeness with God, but we, made in God’s image, can reflect God to others. He’s hitting on some themes that we might here about at Christmastime. Remember, Jesus is born as God-with-us, Emmanuel. Jesus’ birth is all about God eliminating any distance between us and God. God is with us, in us, when we move beyond the veil of separation.

Finally, in our gospel lesson, we read about the event known as the transfiguration of Jesus. The passage opens with the words, “Now about eight days after these sayings,” and this lead in refers to Jesus teaching about his impending suffering, death, and resurrection, after Peter calls Jesus the Messiah in response to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” So eight days later, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain to pray. While there, his face changes and his clothes seem dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah, representing the Law and the Prophets, appear with Jesus, speaking with him about what was soon to happen. We read that Peter and company had been sleepy, but “since they had stayed awake, they saw [Jesus’] glory.” As Moses and Elijah are leaving, Peter, not sure how to interpret the experience, offers to build dwellings on the mountain for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. But instead, they are overshadowed by a cloud, a terrifying experience, and from inside the cloud they hear God’s voice: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” And then they find that they are alone with Jesus. And at first, they tell no one about what had seen.

When we think about our passage from Exodus, we can see that looking at Moses’ face made the people afraid. Experiencing God, even second hand, seemed to be a frightening experience. I had a hard time understanding this, as I read the passage. Why would the people be frightened by seeing how Moses changed after being with God? Wouldn’t they want to experience this closeness to God for themselves? Why weren’t they clamoring to get up the mountain too? Why wasn’t everyone trying to race to the top to hear God’s voice for themselves.

But as I thought about the story of the Israelites, I remembered what a tumultuous relationship they had with God and with Moses, who tried to keep them in relationship with God. It’s a story of repeated disobedience, turning away from God, doing their own thing, and blaming God when there are negative consequences to what they do. I think, perhaps, the Israelites weren’t racing up the mountain because they didn’t actually want to get much closer to God than they always were. Although I think they appreciated being God’s people and all, sometimes I think they also resented God’s interference in their being able to live their lives any way they pleased. Are we any different? I’ve always disliked Bette Midler’s famous song, “From a Distance,” where the refrain says, “God is watching us from a distance.” My understanding of God isn’t a God who is far off in space looking down at us, but of a close God who wants to dwell with and in us. But I think maybe her song captures how we’d actually rather have God – looking on from a distance, not close enough to see when we’re doing what we know isn’t God’s will for us, when we’re treating one another so carelessly, when we’re going the opposite way from what we know is the right path. Maybe then we do wish God was watching only from a safe distance. Maybe we like a veil that separates us from God. Because if God gets too close to us – maybe we’re afraid being so close to God will make us change, really change, when we’re getting along fair enough just as we are.

Paul says though that getting along fair enough just as we are is a pretty week imitation of the kind of life God actually wants us to have. Paul argues that in Christ we find boldness to set aside the veil, and let God really see us, let us really see ourselves. With unveiled faces, Paul says, we see God’s glory – and instead of it being frightening, we find that it’s as easy as looking in the mirror, because with Christ in us, we actually reflect God to others. When we really see ourselves, Paul says, we can get rid of the things in our lives that we’ve been hiding, and we can be open in the sight of God and neighbor.

We see in the gospels that this is what Jesus’ ministry is about – pulling aside the veils that people had in place, separating them from God. Jesus did this first by example, and so we see him continually seeking out God, seeking closeness, and here today Jesus is going again up the mountain to pray. Peter and James and John – Jesus seeks to bring them right into God’s holy presence. They’re scared, just like the Israelites are scared. But even though they have no idea what to do, they stay. Even though they’re sleepy, they keep awake. They don’t want to miss out. Even though it will change them, they don’t want to pass up this experience.

In fact, the only problem becomes that they want to stay up on the mountain. Peter offers to build dwelling places for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Now that he’s finally drawn so close to the holy, he doesn’t want to leave. We can relate to this, I think. When we finally feel close to God, who hasn't wanted to stay in whatever the place is where God seems so close and available? Who hasn't wanted to extend a school vacation that seems so restful? Who hasn't wanted to slow the passing of time when things are fun and joy filled? We have a hard enough time finding God, or letting God find us, finally removing the veil – we certainly don't want to hurry off the mountain when we finally make the connection.

The things is, in God's wisdom, we're not meant to stay on the mountain, as comforting as it may be for us to be there. As Peter said to Jesus, it is indeed good for us to be close to God. But imagine, imagine if Jesus had shared Peter's sentiments, and decided to stay with Moses and Elijah on the mountain? There would be no Good Friday crucifixion, and no Easter resurrection. Imagine if Moses had not come down to the Israelites after talking with God. There would be no commandments brought down to the people who certainly needed structure. Imagine if you and I stayed on the mountain where we found God - there would be no spreading of the gospel that Christ commanded us to share. No one new would ever hear about God's love. And self-indulging, we would soon grow less appreciative of the way we were experiencing God. We’re called up the mountain, and into the holy, but we’re called back down too, so that we can help draw others closer to God and share our experience.

But when we remove the veil between us and God, whether we’re on the mountain top or in the valleys, God goes with us. Sometimes we have to look harder, listen more carefully, risk more completely, but we can find God in the valley, on the plains, and in the people, as well as on the mountaintop.

Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness, not like Moses, who put a veil over his face, but with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of God reflected as in a mirror, shining out from our souls. Amen.

Sermon for Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, "Deep Waters"

Sermon 2/7/10, Luke 5:1-11, Isaiah 6:1-8

Deep Waters

Science was always my least favorite subject in school. I always got good grades in science, because I could memorize answers just fine, and I was good at math, so the formulas involved were no problem. But I never liked science because I could never really understand the why of something even if I knew the facts. You could explain to me why a light bulb works or a how a camera works, and I could memorize that description and tell it back to you, but I’d still never quite understand why it worked that way. But my dislike of science had a couple of exceptions, both of which I’ve been thinking about as I’ve been mulling over our gospel lesson for today.

First, I loved in Earth Science in high-school, and in Geology courses in college, when we’d talk about strata in rock formations. You’d have to look at a picture of all these different layers of igneous and metamorphic and sedimentary rock, and explain what happened in what order. I think I liked it because it was sort of like a logic puzzle, actually, but I also liked thinking about the history represented by those layers, and what must have been happening so long ago at those old, old, bottom layers, that somehow could get brought to the surface over time, through the shifting of the earth’s plates. And I also love learning about animal life, and occasionally get on a kick of watching shows on Animal Planet. I’m fascinated by occasional specials or news stories that report on hundreds of new species that are discovered, even now, even today. How can it be 2010 and we still don’t know all of the species of animals that exist? It’s humbling to remind ourselves of how much we don’t know, in the midst of all we’re sure we have figured out so fully. Last year, deep, deep in the ocean near Australia, a new, carnivorous sea squirt was discovered, that traps small sea creatures in this funnel-shaped mouth of sorts. It fascinates me to think that there is so much undiscovered and the ocean depths seem to be one of the places of yet-unknown mystery.

I had those images in mind this week as I was reading our gospel lesson, and thinking about deep things, deep waters, bringing to the surface what has been deep, deep down. In our gospel lesson today, we find a familiar scene – Jesus preaching and teaching, the crowd gathered, and the setting – the lake of Gennesaret, where many fishermen would be busy at work. When the scene opens, we read that Jesus is standing by the lake and the crowds are “pressing in on him to hear the word of God.” What an image! They’re impatient – anxious – hungry to hear God’s word – that’s how excited they are about what Jesus has to say. The want the words that he’s about to speak. I’ve heard some good preachers – and I like to think I have some preaching skills myself – but I can think of but a few times in my life when I’ve been so anxious, so in anticipation of hearing God’s word.

With the crowds pressing in, Jesus sees fishermen washing their nets and their boats nearby on the shore, and he gets in a boat and asks Simon Peter to put out a little way from the shore. This way, Jesus can comfortably teach the crowds from the boat without being smothered by them in their excitement. When he’s done teaching, he turns to Simon, and tells him, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Not a suggestion – not a questions – but a direction, an imperative. Peter responds in a way that I admire, since I think most of us wouldn’t respond so openly. Jesus tells them to go out into deep water and let their nets down for a catch. Well, Jesus wasn’t a fisherman; he was a carpenter, and now a teacher; Simon Peter was the fisherman. And Peter knew where to fish. And Peter knew that they had already been fishing all night without catching anything. But Simon Peter didn’t respond that he knew better than Jesus, or that they tried what he said already and it didn’t work, or that this new way wouldn’t work. He said instead, “Master, if you say we should try it, we’ll try it.”

They let down their nets, and begin to catch so many fish that their nets are breaking. They signal for help, and another boat comes, and still, there are so many fish that both boats are filled to the point that they can barely stay afloat. Peter, overwhelmed, falls on his knees before Jesus and says, “Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!” But Jesus responds, to Peter and James and John, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” And with those strange words, these fishermen are inspired to leave their boats and nets and everything, and they begin to follow Jesus.

Jesus tells Simon Peter to put the nets into deep water, and let them down there for a catch. I’m struck by the phrase, and all the meaning this biblical image holds for us. If we think of our spiritual lives, our souls, as this water, we can find many ways to think about this text. Shallows waters are safe places in our lives and in our hearts, where we can put our feet on the ground and keep our heads well above water, and where everything that is there is easily visible to the eyes. The deep waters – there is so much there that you might never see or know it all, and you can’t touch bottom, and you have to work harder to stay afloat, but some of the most fascinating things are found in the deep water, and you have to be a strong swimmer, or a strong boater, or with someone who is strong enough for both of you, to spend a lot of time in the deep waters. You can spend all of your time in shallow water, but most swimmers aren’t satisfied with that, are they? You could theoretically do all of your boating right along the shore, but most serious boaters would laugh at such an idea. So if we’re thinking about our souls as the waters of this passage, what is Jesus saying to us? Go to the deep water. Go again. Go deeper. Simon Peter makes it clear they’ve spent all day out on the lake, fishing, without catching anything. But Jesus won’t let them give up, call it quits, move to another spot, or bring the boats back to shore. There are more fish than the disciples will know what to do with in that lake, and Jesus will help them find them, if they trust him and do what he commands.

Where are we spending our time in the waters of our soul? I think it is astonishingly easy to spend all of our time, all of our lives, in what God would consider the shallow waters. Not taking risks. Not digging deep. Not exploring the unknown. Keeping our feet firmly planted, never heading out to the deep where we’d have to rely on having Jesus in the boat with us in order to make it through. I can tell you that I’m generally not a risk-taker. I don’t like roller coasters. As you know, I don’t even like statistically safe airplanes. When it comes to physical safety, I will always take care of myself. Spiritually, I wonder if I have any more sense of adventure. How easy it is to do the bare minimum instead of giving heart and soul to God. It is easy, sometimes, for me to understand exactly what the scripture is saying, what Jesus is asking, and somehow easier to make a list of reasons why I can’t quite do what is required.

God calls us to go deeper and deeper. I hope Derek won’t mind me using him as an example today, but I have to tell you, as much as I wish we could keep Derek here, with the wonderful way he’s clicked with our youth and ignited our youth ministry, I can’t really encourage him to do other than exactly what he’s doing. No doubt Derek has already seen his life as an attempt to respond to God’s calling – he’s served at church camp for years, worked now in youth ministry, and gone to school to try to strengthen his gifts and talents. But God always calls us to go deeper. And Derek is trying to respond to that call – and so he’s starting seminary, which requires a new home, a new town, new financial situations, new schedules, new ministry challenges, a whole new day-to-day life – and Derek is diving in, and heading for the deep waters, just where God is calling him. Of course, what’s in my deep waters, and in Derek’s, and in yours isn’t the same – but that God calls us to go deeper, bring more to the surface, give what’s in the depths of our hearts – that is a call that excludes none.

We can talk about going deep and staying shallow as a congregation too. Last week, in my annual report, I talked about where we’ve been in the last year and where I hope to see us going. I know many of us are full of dreams and visions for the church. But I also know that it can be easy to be discouraged, and I have those moments too, where it seems like our dreams for the future are more like impossible fantasies. When we talk about our finances, for example, and trying to overcome a deficit that will let us just pay the bills, it can be a challenge to think about increasing our mission, or strengthening our understanding of stewardship, or extending the reach of our ministry. When we dream about a church that is full of people and excitement and energy, we can grow skeptical when it is a challenge even to draw our own members to worship. When we think about our youth program, it can be easy to get discouraged when we know we face another transition, even as we send Derek off with our support and encouragement. But I’m drawn back to Peter’s faithful response to Jesus’ call: “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” The deep waters are full of abundance that God means for us to discover, and in the life of the church, even when it means letting down our nets for what seems like the millionth time in the same waters, I believe that God promises us a catch of fish that is beyond our imagining.

“When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Let us go and do likewise.

Amen.

Sermon: Report of the Pastor

Sermon 1/31/10, Jeremiah 1:4-10, 1 Corinthians 13:1-13, Luke 4:21-30

Report of the Pastor

In my preparations for our Annual Meeting today, I decided I would combine my report into my sermon. For practical reasons, it allows me to reflect with all of you about our first six months together, as we plan for the year ahead, even if you can’t stay for our meeting today. But I also want us to understand that there’s no separation between the ‘business matters’ of the church and our mission, ministry, and worship. Everything we do together in the life of the church is meant to be in service to God, who calls us. So where have we been, and where do we go from here?

Our official congregational mission statement says that our purpose is “Growing together in our knowledge and love of God through Jesus Christ and sharing this with others.” I shared with you in the last newsletter that Connie McEvers said that she could remember the core of the statement by its key words: growing, loving, and sharing. Her shortcut has been sticking with me, and I’ve been trying to incorporate those three words into what we do here, to give you an easier way to connect with a plan to deepen your faith. So, I also want to use these words to frame my report to you this morning. How are we growing, loving, and sharing?

Our mission as a congregation is to grow. We can say this in many ways. We want to grow numerically – I know I would certainly love to see this sanctuary filled to capacity each week. I’d love to continue to see growth in our youth program. I would love to see us grow in our giving. But in this context, when we’re talking about growing in love and knowledge of God, I think we’re talking about spiritual growth, discipleship. How are you growing spiritually? What are you doing to nurture your soul and how can this congregation encourage that growth in you?

Our Old Testament lesson today is from the prophet Jeremiah. At the start of the book, we hear about Jeremiah’s call by God. Jeremiah begins, as many of our biblical characters do, sure that he is unqualified for God to use him. He claims that he doesn’t know how to speak, and is only a boy. But God basically replies that no excuses are acceptable. “Do not say, “I am only a boy,”” God says, “for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you.” Jeremiah’s story is like so many of ours – we’re sure we’re not wise enough, or gifted enough, or special enough for God to be using us. But God promises to be with us, to give us words, and promises that we shall do what God commands. Jeremiah becomes one of the great prophets of Israel, without any special qualifications that we know of, except the ability to listen to God’s voice.

To me, that’s what spiritual growth is about – learning to practice a way of life that helps us to listen and respond to God’s voice. Our lives are so full of things that compete for our attention and energy. We have to learn, to practice, to be disciplined in our spiritual lives, so that God’s voice has a chance of finding us. So how are we working to grow spiritually? One way is through offering small-group study experiences. In the fall, the Parish Council completed a Healthy Church Checklist, in which we committed to increasing participation in small group studies by our leadership. To that end, you will notice that we have and will continue to have several options for spiritual study. I encourage you to make it a priority to find one of these groups to be part of.

The season of Lent is fast-approaching, and I urge you to consider it to be a time of spiritual reflection, rededication, and renewal. We’ll be having a midweek communion service during Lent that will focus on a deeper understanding of the meaning of communion. I will also be surveying the congregation to find out which small-group study topics would interest you and which times would best suit you. If a group study isn’t your thing, please, speak to me about ways you can work toward spiritual growth, and I will help you find something that stretches and challenges you.

Our mission as a congregation is to love. Love is a word we toss around pretty lightly in our culture except, when it comes to people. We love TV shows and movies, we love pets, we love a song. But we’re a little stingier with our love for one another. After a time of transition in this congregation, I feel like this is probably the most critical area of focus for us. We need to work on loving one another. Our reading from Corinthians this week is one of the most famous passages in all of Paul’s writing – the love chapter. You’ve probably heard this passage a million times, because it is the passage most frequently chosen for weddings. “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” Paul’s language is beautiful, but he’s actually not writing about romantic relationships. As I mentioned last week, Paul is in fact writing to a congregation in Corinth that has been struggling with conflict and disunity. It’s in that context that he’s talking about what love is. It is patient. It doesn’t demand its own way. It rejoices in truth, bears all things, and doesn’t end. Paul says that without this love, we can have all the gifts and graces imaginable and still be just a noisy gong.

We’ve experienced some brokenness within the congregation. But we’re called to an ethic of love that, if we follow it, will help us journey beyond our brokenness. As we talked about last week, we are all members of the body of Christ, and all valuable parts of the community. For the body to work, we have to work together, and we don’t get to cut each other off, or decide we’re going to go it on our own. That’s just not how the body works. We have over one hundred regular worshippers and many more members and constituents in this part of the body. Sometimes we will seriously disagree with one another. Sometimes we will have a hard time getting along. But do you love one another? Can we work on loving one another?

Now we need, first, to experience some forgiveness within the congregation. Healing doesn’t happen overnight, I know. But we begin with forgiveness. Each Sunday we pray to be forgiven as we forgive others. Are you forgiving? I’m asking you today, if you’ve experienced hurt and conflict, to begin forgiving, to let go of the past, and to move on. We cannot go forward as a congregation if we always holding on to what is behind us, because it will hold us there, and keep us from looking down the road where God is leading us. To that end, I encourage you, if you are experiencing disagreements or conflicts, to always speak directly with one another. It’s easy to let hurts fester and multiply when we talk about and around someone instead of to them. And if you are having trouble talking to someone about a disagreement, please seek me out, and I can help you.

We had some wonderful times of fellowship in the last six months, including a spaghetti dinner and cookie walk. I encourage you to take part in activities like that that just give us time to spend with one another. My own goals this first year focus heavily on building relationships. I’ve appreciated spending hours with you at Panera Bread or in your homes. My goal in the year ahead is to visit every member and constituent of the church. You can help me with that project by signing up for a time or contacting me to set one up. I’m interested in hearing about your hopes and dreams for this congregation, and I’m interested in knowing who you are and why you are here. I encourage you to also seek time with one another – with whom do you need to rebuild a relationship? Take a step towards healing in the months ahead.

Finally, our mission as a congregation is to share. In fact, we’re called to share it all, share in everyway: what we have, who we are, what we know – all of this is meant to be shared and given in love to those who so desperately are seeking purpose and hope in their lives. Our gospel reading today picks up again where we left off last week in Luke, when Jesus unrolled the scroll of Isaiah and read from it in his hometown synagogue. When he is finished reading, he sits down and tell the listeners that the scripture has been fulfilled in their hearing. And we read, “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words” he spoke. That might seem like a positive reaction, but Jesus doesn’t seem happy with their response. He certainly stirs them up with his reply: “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s home town . . . there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up for three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.’”

The people are filled with rage at his words, and try to drive him off a cliff, and we as 21^st century readers are left wondering what we missed. Why did his words upset them? Well, what Jesus points out to the people is that God sent these prophets to work through non-Jews. Though the people saw themselves as God’s chosen, revered prophets of Israel Elijah and Elisha did God’s work not through Gentiles. God chose to use those who were outside the community, rather than those who were inside. The people of Nazareth don’t want to hear it. They want to wonder at Jesus, all grown up, and reading the scripture so beautifully, but they don’t want to be transformed by the scripture they hear, and they don’t want to hear that it’s actually all about someone else, not them, after all. Jesus read about good news for the poor, release for the captives, sight for the blind, freedom for the oppressed, not good news for the middle class, release for the independent, sight for those who just won’t open their eyes, freedom for the comfortable.

As a church body, it’s very easy to slip into thinking that what we do here is about us, and making sure that we are happy. But the church is exists not for itself, but for those outside of it. When Jesus gave his great commission to the twelve, he told them “Go and make disciples.” That’s why the official mission of both our denominations is other-focused, not self-focused. Our primary purpose is outward-reaching, sharing God with others. That’s the primary reason for the church to exist. So if we aren’t doing that, we’re in trouble. So sharing is a key word in our mission statement. Churches that are vital and healthy are churches that are outward-looking, serving others, rather than making sure members’ needs are met.

How have we been sharing? We’ve been working to re-people and re-energize our Evangelism Team. The world “evangelism” means “good message,” and that’s our purpose: sharing the good message with others. Our Nominations Team has worked hard to find more people willing to help, who will soon be joining our currently small team. Karen Dunn, our chair, is very faithful in following up with any visitors who worship here. We also attended a training session this fall called “ReThink Church,” along with some of our Missions Team, and I think we all felt inspired with new ideas. Our Missions Team has worked hard to engage the congregation in mission work. We’ve had mission moments, collected blankets, food, scarves and health kits, we’ve sent kids to camp, we’ve supported local and global missions, we’ve CROP-walked together, and we’ve had an ongoing presence at The Crossings.

But we want to do more. We’re talking about sharing ourselves. I mentioned last week that our young people are already gifted at inviting others to attend church activities with them. But we can’t leave this work up to them. If we want to see the church grow and thrive we have a direct responsibility to act by sharing what we’re about, about this God we serve, and about God’s love, freely offered to us. I challenge you, this year, to focus on inviting someone to worship with you. More than any program or advertising campaign we might do, people come to church because someone invites them. We’re also developing our relationship with the Rescue Mission in the year ahead. We have so many gifts, and we excel at sharing donations and financial help with a number of organizations. But we are called to share our hearts. We’ve committed to pay special attention this year to hands-on mission – mission that involves building relationships with the people that we serve, so that we might understand how much they in turn are serving us. This year, I challenge you to spend more of your time in hands-on mission work.

I believe that we are blessed with wonderful people, gifts, talents, and resources here at First United. God has blessed us with such abundance, and such potential. I have dreams and visions about what we might be, and where God might lead us, if we’re ready to take the risk of following a God who is known for leading people to turn their whole lives around and upside down. I’m ready – ready for you to help me take those risks – ready to help you take those risks. The people of the First United Church of East Syracuse are called to grow in our knowledge and love of God through Jesus Christ and to share this with others. So let’s grow. Let’s love. Let’s share. And let’s go together. Amen.

Sermon for Third Sunday after the Epiphany, "Filled: With the Spirit"

Sermon 1/24/10, 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a, Luke 4:4-21

Filled: With the Spirit

Every time I come across this week I the lectionary cycle, I’ve chosen to focus my preaching on the gospel text of Luke. It’s one of my favorite passages. It’s Jesus’ first sermon of sorts, at least the first that is included in the biblical narrative. In it, he returns, filled with the power of the Spirit, to his hometown synagogue in Nazareth, as was his custom, we read. He stands up to read, and he reads from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Then Jesus rolls up the scroll, sits back down, and says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” In reading this text from Isaiah, Jesus sets out, from the very beginning, with a very clear announcement about what he intends to be all about: good news for the poor, release for captives, sight for the blind, and freedom for the oppressed.

But our other scripture text today keeps catching my attention, calling to me to give it a second look, because I feel it really contains a message we need to hear right now. Our text is from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. The church at Corinth was a faith community that Paul himself founded, and he’d received word that “a lack of harmony and internal strife” had been troubling the congregation. So Paul writes this letter in response to the conflicts he’s hearing about, as a letter that reminds the community of how to live together as the Body of Christ. This chapter is one of the key themes in the book. Paul begins, “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body.” Paul then goes on to paint a vivid visual for us – he talks about the human body as the body of Christ, and compares each of us to parts of that human body, as we are part of the body of Christ. There is just one body of Christ, but there are different parts of the body of Christ, each of which has a different function. All of these roles are vitally important to the body of Christ, but none can exist on their own, none is more important than the other, and none has the right to say to the others, “I have no need of you.” Paul tells us that “God has so arranged the body . . . that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.” We are individual members of the one body of Christ.

As we prepare for our Annual Meeting next Sunday, I think this text is something we need to hear and really consider. This week, our Pastor-Parish Relations Committee met with my supervising District Superintendent, David Underwood. He is also preaching today on Corinthians, and spoke to us about how this passage reminds us that the church is an organism, not an organization. The body of Christ is a living entity – filled with the Spirit, made of people, all of God’s unique creations. We are the body of Christ in the world – that’s a reminder that we hear every time we celebrate communion together. When the elements are consecrated, we pray, “make [these gifts] be for us the body . . . of Christ, that we may be for the world the body of Christ.”

We are called to be the eyes of Jesus. Right in our gospel lesson today Jesus talks about bringing recovery of sight to the blind. He certainly does this in literal ways through his healing, but Jesus was also about opening the eyes of those who were spiritually blind. He spoke about spiritual blindness as a more troubling problem, and frequently called the Pharisees blind guides, blind fools, the blind leading the blind. But Jesus always sees situations, and sees us, clearly, seeing through the facades we put on. When I searched the scriptures for references to Jesus seeing, I noticed that most often, we read that Jesus sees with compassion.

Jesus also sees those that others don’t see. In the gospels he sees children, women, those in need of healing. He sees the faith of people who are on the fringes. He sees the ones that others walk right by. Jesus sees us as we truly are, as we hope to be, as we might be, as we are trying to be.

How do we see people? Who don’t we see? How can we be the eyes of Jesus in the body of Christ? When I think about this congregation as a part of the body of Christ, I can think of those who truly act as the eyes of Jesus, really seeing everyone. We have a couple of people who are most likely to see you if you are a visitor – one standout person is almost always the first person to introduce himself to someone new. And we have some people who always see people who need help entering the building, who are always right there to open doors, operate the elevator, and put someone at ease. We have some people who really see our youth and children, who notice what is going on in their lives. We have some people who are really good at seeing who is not here, remembering those who have been absent for our fellowship and reaching out. We are blessed to have some people who are the eyes of Jesus in the body of Christ.

We are called to be the ears of Jesus. All through his teaching, Jesus would end his parables and sermons with the words, “Let all who have ears, let them hear!” Or, “Let anyone with ears listen!” When he stayed at the home of Mary and Martha, he praised Mary for just sitting and listening, rather than being busy with household chores. To have someone’s undivided attention is such a rare gift, and it was one that Jesus gave to unexpected people. Think about how you listen to someone who is speaking. We spend much of our time listening to someone with our minds actually in another place – we’re always worrying about what we are going to say next, how we will respond, or a million other things – what’s on our to-do list, what’s happening next, or even how we will fix a problem someone is sharing. But one thing I’ve learned over the years is that most people aren’t looking for you to fix their problems. They’re just hoping you care about them enough to listen to their experiences. Jesus gave his full attention to people. And he asks our full attention to what he teaches.

So how are we being the ears of Jesus in this part of the body of Christ? Who is particularly attuned to listening – to other people, to God’s call, to the Spirit’s leading? I know that we have some people here who have been good listeners when I’ve needed help. I know even just this week one in our family met to really listen to and talk with another member who has having a hard time. We have some people here who are anxiously listening for how God will call them, who frequently speak to me about wanting to hear God’s hopes for their lives. We have someone who volunteers many hours each week at a helpline and just listens when people call when they’re in times of deep crisis. We’re blessed to have people who can really listen when we are at meetings or council sessions and disagreements arise, who can really listen for the core of what someone is saying and understand another person’s perspective. We’re blessed to have those who embody the ears of Christ in this congregation.

We are called to be the mouth of Christ. Words are extremely powerful. Words can hurt or heal. I bet each of us can think over our lives and remember things that have been said – said in love or said in anger. Sometimes words are so powerful that years later we can remember word-for-word what someone told us. And because words are so powerful, we have to be careful, thoughtful, with what we say and why we say it. Every time we speak, we have an opportunity to be the mouth of Christ. Jesus said that it is what comes out of our mouths, not what goes in, that makes us clean or unclean. What has come out of your mouth that you are proud of? What have you said that has caused harm to another person? Jesus was someone who always spoke out of love, but also someone who spoke the truth, even when the truth was difficult to hear. When have you spoken up when no one else would? When have your raised your voice to call for justice, and when have you been quiet, letting an injustice go by without giving voice to the harm you saw done? And of course, Jesus used his voice to share the good news about God’s unconditional love, to share the news that we didn’t have to wait for God’s kingdom – that God’s kingdom was here, near, now.

How are we being the mouth of Christ in this body, this congregation? I urge you to consider carefully the power of your words, and how we speak to and about one another. We are blessed to have some people here who are so excited to talk to you about God and God’s love. We’re blessed to have a group of adults who are serving as teachers and mentors to our Sunday School students and confirmands – they, whether they realize it or not – are being the mouth of Christ as they share stories about Jesus and about their own faith journeys. We have a group of people who is dedicated to leading worship at an area nursing home every 6 weeks or so – they are acting as the mouth of Christ for people who don’t often receive that attention. We’re blessed with people who participate in worship through music and assisting and reading scripture – they are acting as the mouth of Christ. Some of you really work on inviting people to worship – some of our young people consistently invite friends to church or Sunday School or youth group – they are acting as the mouth of Christ, and we are blessed to have them in our congregation.

We are called to be the hands of Christ. Think about what you use your hands for. In Jesus’ day, most people’s livelihoods would come from manual labor – work done with the hands. What work do you do with your hands? In the gospels, Jesus uses his hands primarily for healing and blessing others, and again he focuses his that healing and blessing on those who are usually on the fringes of society, at the margins. Jesus also uses his hands to feed and to serve, even to wash the feet of his disciples. Physical touch can be a powerful way to communicate the love of Christ. I think of the feeling of holding a baby to be baptized, or the touch of hands that are joined with yours in prayer, or the connection made between you and me when we renew baptismal vows, or celebrate a healing service with anointing oil, or next month when we will be marked with ashes. We are called to be the hands of Christ – how do we use our hands as Jesus did?

We’re blessed to have hands in our midst that hold a shovel or bag of rock salt on snowy Sunday mornings. We have hands that helped with construction – or destruction – in our Sunday School wing downstairs, including hands that worked hard when no one else was around to see. A certain pair of hands frequently takes items from the narthex to the right spot in the food pantry. We have hands that do things like fill our altar candles, change our paraments which decorate our sanctuary, and ready communion bread, including hands that prepare communion bread nearly every single Sunday for our 8 o’clock service. There are hands that have mended my robe for me, and hands that have knit prayer shawls, and hands that have baked bread for food baskets. There are hands that collect and count our offering each week. We’re blessed with the hands of Jesus, hard at work in this community of faith.

And we are called to be the feet of Jesus. When I think of Jesus’ feet, I think of all the places his feet had to go. Jesus’ feet took him all the places no one else wanted to go. His feet took him to the home of a tax collector and the home of a Pharisee. They took him to Jericho and Syrophoenicia, to Sidon, to Nazareth, to Jerusalem. His feet took him to a leper colony, and up mountains to pray. His feet took him across the water, and eventually took him to his own crucifixion, where he gave his life freely. Jesus wanted us to think about where our feet take us too. Jesus said, “if someone requires you to go one mile with them, go with them also a second mile.” He was talking about a law that required Jews to carry the pack of an occupying Roman soldier for one mile if requested on the road. It was a law to travel that mile. Jesus told people to go further than was required – the extra mile. Where do your feet take you? I mean both literally and figuratively. When do your feet take you out of your comfort zone?

I see the feet of Jesus in this congregation. You’d be amazed, I bet, at the places these feet have been in the name of Jesus. Someone’s feet carry them to a city church to teach nutrition and cooking skills to those who really need to learn. Someone’s feet take them to P.E.A.C.E. right here in town to drop off food. Some feet have travelled on mission trips to serve those in need. Many feet have traveled to camp to learn more about God. Some feet will be traveling soon to serve meals to hungry people. Feet, young and old, stood in a mall ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. Where have your feet taken you? We have the feet of Jesus, right here in this congregation.

Sometimes we need reminding of how blessed we are to have such a full congregation of different and unique people. There is no one here who can bring to this congregation what you bring. And there is no one here who can bring to this congregation what the person who sometimes frustrates or challenges you brings. Yesterday, for a conference event I was attending, we had to read a document about leadership, which included words from a Luther pastor named Wally Armbuster. He writes, “harmony is not everyone singing the same note at the same time. That is monotony. Harmony is when everyone sings his or her own note and then listens carefully to others in order to blend together.” It isn’t always easy to live together and work together and be in ministry together when we have such different ideas about the best way to make things work. But what a blessing it is that we have so many people who are passionate about serving God in this place. Paul reminds us that we are bound together by something that runs much deeper than common interests or compatible personalities. We are bound together because we are one in the Spirit, one in the body of Christ. The tie that binds us is stronger than the differences that stretch us – and so we celebrate, and nurture those bonds, and we’re meant to nurture and care for our relationships within the body of Christ. We are the body of Christ in the world – we are the eyes, the ears, the mouths, the hands, and the feet that carry God’s love, made possible by the Holy Spirit that works within us. “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body.” Amen.

Sermon for Second Sunday after the Epiphany, "Filled: To the Brim"

Sermon 1/17/10, John 2:1-11, 1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Filled: To the Brim

You might have noticed that last week and this week our sermons have had the theme of: filled. We’ll continue on with that for the next couple of weeks as well, and I chose this focus because I suddenly noticed, as I was preparing my preaching schedule, that the gospel lessons for several weeks in a row contained the word “filled.” And I think “filled” is a perfect word to describe how God wants our lives to be. My very favorite Bible verse is from John 10:10b – “I have come that they might have life and have it abundantly.” Jesus is all about giving us life – but not just any life. Full life. Abundant life. We live in a culture that is so full – of sounds and sights, of must-haves, of things an stuff – and yet people feel amazingly empty, always trying to fill up with the wrong things. The message of Jesus, though, is pretty clear. God is supposed to be the one filling us.

Things certainly have seemed quite full to me this week, as I prepared for worship today. On Tuesday, the world heard of a devastating earthquake in Haiti, and the news from the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere just seems to get worse as the number of casualties climbs. And yet, there are stories, too, of amazing hope and sacrifice, stories of people singing in the streets, hymns and Halleluiahs. We mourn the passing of one of our church members, Emily Brundidge, who died this week. My mind is with my mother, as she continues to heal from her ankle fusion surgery. Tomorrow I meet with a group of Presbyterian youth, who will be travelling to visit the United Nations next month in New York City. Yesterday I met with Communicators from four United Methodist conferences, to plan for our merger in July. Today you received the first formal announcement of our Annual Meeting, which take place two weeks from today. Things are feeling pretty filled up. No doubt a quick review of your week would bring up similar results.

And our themes in worship are full too – today we celebrate the work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., as we consider his work for racial justice. And beyond that special designation, our scripture lessons have weight and fullness in their own right today. Our reading from the epistle to the Corinthians talks about spiritual gifts, the variety of ways in which God gives to us unique qualities which enable us to serve and to help one another in faith. Our gospel lesson talks about Jesus changing water into wine at the wedding in Cana. Both these texts offer so many possibilities, but I keep returning to that word – filled. We are indeed filled to the brim, with our lives, with our need for God, with directions God can lead us in worship today. Where do we begin?

First things first. Jesus' changing the water into wine is generally considered his 'first' miracle recorded in the gospels. Well, it may be his first miracle, but other than chronological uniqueness, it doesn't seem to me particularly remarkable. Don't get me wrong - I haven't mastered changing water into wine just yet. It's more that the type of miracle Jesus chooses as his first public display of God-given powers seems a bit odd in choice. How does this miracle really help anyone? It saves the host of a wedding reception a bit of embarrassment from running out of wine, true. But no one is healed, no one's leprosy vanishes. No one's sight is restored. No raging storms are calmed. It doesn’t seem to be a life-changing event. Jesus simply changes water into wine, enabling a party to continue on for more hours, and boosting the host's status in the eyes of the guests who are impressed with the new wine's quality. What a strange way to make his mark in the world of miracles!

So if the particulars are not so impressive, as far as miracles go, anyway, what's so special about this event? Why is this the first? Why bother to include it in the stories of Jesus, when there are so many other things we wish we could know about the life of this Christ? Chances are, as usual, there's something more than meets the eye. We read that Jesus used 6 jars that were used for purification rites, 20-30 gallon jars, about the size of our street-side garbage cans. These jars he ordered "filled to the brim" by the stewards - you can just picture them, almost ready to spill over from fullness, like the commercial images of soda at fast-food restaurants, appealing in their abundance. Jesus changed these water jars into jars of wine. And when another tasted the wine, he called the groom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."

For me, these empty vessels represent our own lives - we are these jars, creations of God, ready to be filled up. Often we try to fill ourselves up with things we desire, things we think will bring us meaning. But others aren't fooled, realizing inferior wine, so to speak, when they see it. But God offers to fill us up, and to the very brim - first with the waters that would cleanse and purify us, as we remembered last Sunday, but then with the good wine, the best-for-last wine, the filled-to-the-brim-its-so-good wine that causes others to remark about our quality - that something-special substance in us. We can choose: the watered-down life of our own design, or the abundant brim-filled life that God offers.

Our quick response is to say that of course we want the full version - we want the real thing, we want to have the best wine to fill our vessels. But unfortunately, it's not as simple as that. If we don't want the watered-down version of possibilities for our lives, it also means we can't accept watered down versions of who God is, who Jesus is, or how Jesus calls us to live. Too often we want to skirt the issues Jesus confronts us with by watering them down, turning Jesus into a nice man with great ideals but not much realism about how to get along in the world. When he warns us about money we think he's exaggerating, when he tells us to drop everything and follow him, we're sure he forgot to take our jobs and our families into consideration. When he talks about loving neighbors, we are sure he wouldn’t have said it if he’s met our neighbors. When he tells us to turn the other cheek, we're convinced he never had a good look at the size of our opponent. When he asks us not to judge others, we can't help but point out anyway a few who don't meet God's standards, and when he talks about feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick, we're finally sure he's speaking metaphorically and not literally. We have to ask ourselves: are we ready for the good wine? Do we really want to be filled to the brim with such potent stuff? Isn't the watered down version actually a little easier to swallow?

On this special Sunday, we celebrate the birthday – and life – of Martin Luther King, Jr. Just as we often try to 'water down' the message of Jesus, we have also tried to water down the message of this radical man as well, making him more acceptable to our ears and our consciences. In recent years, for instance, clips of King have been used in commercials for the YMCA, for soda companies, insurance companies, Apple computers, a communications company, and even Cingular cell phone company, to promote their products. Is this his legacy? The poet Carl Wendell Himes, Jr., aptly and eloquently put into words this dilemma of watering down, writing: "Now that he is safely dead / Let us praise him / build monuments to his glory / sing hosannas to his name. / Dead men make / such convenient heroes: They cannot rise / to challenge the images / we would fashion from their lives. / And besides, / it is easier to build monuments / than to make a better world." (1)

Civil Rights activist Vincent Harding speaks similarly, "We must reclaim Martin precisely because the times demand it. As the bombs fall, as the poor cry out in greater numbers, as the earth convulses beneath the weight of global economic power, we must attend to the words and the life of this prophet among us. If we are content with little more than a vision of Black and White children holding hands . . . If we settle for a tamed version of Martin King as a moderate integrationist, we will fall prey to cynicism and despair, and we'll lack the imagination and social inventiveness necessary in genuine social struggle." (2) If you really examine the life and work of Martin Luther King, Jr., you hardly find someone who everyone liked, someone who everyone agreed with, who didn't ruffle any feathers. He talked the talk, and walked the walk. His dream wasn't just words for the future - it was a plan of action he followed right then. He wrote, "I choose to identify with the underprivileged. I choose to identify with the poor. I choose to give my life for the hungry. I choose to give my life for those who have been left out of the sunlight of opportunity. I choose to live for and with those who find themselves seeing life as a long and desolate corridor with no exit sign. This is the way I'm going. If it means suffering a little bit, I'm going that way. If it means sacrificing, I'm going that way. If it means dying for them, I'm going that way, because I heard a voice saying, 'Do something for others.'" (1)

On this day that we read about Christ changing water into wine, and on this day that we remember the man Martin Luther King, Jr., let us not settle for something less than the gospel demands of us. Let us not reduce the gospel to a gift book of cute phrases to live by - perhaps another collection of heart-warming Chicken Soup for the Soul stories. Jesus’ teachings are so much more than that - they demand much more of us, and they reward us much more deeply, in more long-lasting ways. If we allow it, God fills us with good wine – Paul's letter to the Corinthians talks about the contents of our vessels - the gifts that each of us has, of wisdom, knowledge, prophecy, healing, faith, and much more. What's next is to pour ourselves out for others, pour ourselves out in service and sacrifice, pour ourselves out with boldness, knowing that God is filling us up as fast as we’re pouring ourselves out. The choice is ours: water or wine, empty, or filled to the brim, cheap substitutes, or the demanding and rewarding gospel of Jesus Christ. Do you want to be filled? Amen.

(1) As quoted by Vincent Harding, in The Other Side, http://www.theotherside.org/archive/jan-feb03/harding_print.html

(2) Vincent Harding, in The Other Side, http://www.theotherside.org/archive/jan-feb03/harding_print.html

Link: Our World News Methodism founder inspires Christian vegetarians - UMC.org

Of course, I had to share this link:

Our World News Methodism founder inspires Christian vegetarians - UMC.org