Non-lectionary Sermon, "Near and Far," Ephesians 2:11-22, Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Sermon 5/29/11         

Ephesians 2:11-22, Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Near and Far

I had a hard time figuring out where to go this week in my sermon. When I sent the bulletin in to Linda this week, I told her to leave the scriptures and sermon title blank – I would figure it out by Sunday. Usually I preach right from the lectionary, but this week, I just couldn’t make my mind work with the scheduled passages. So I went in a different direction, and chose a passage that perhaps reflects the dynamics we find at work all around us.  

I have been thinking about what a tumultuous busy year this has been. I decided to look for a timeline of 2011 online to confirm my feeling that a lot has happened already, and here is what I found. In January, Rep. Gabrielle Giffords was shot, along with several others, at a public meeting, by a young man who was just declared incompetent to stand trial. Protesting in Egypt began, and Southern Sudanese people voted in droves to become a separate nation from Sudan. By February, protesting in Egypt had spread throughout the region. A significant earthquake hit New Zealand. In March, violence in Libya increased with the government launching attacks on its own people, and coalition force in turn launching attacks on government targets. Also in March, a massive earthquake and tsunami devastated the nation of Japan. In April, President Obama realized a copy of his birth certificate, after Donald Trump’s claims that he had very serious reasons to believe that Obama was not born in Hawaii. Also in April, a string of tornadoes struck the South, and Prince William married Catherine Middleton, in a ceremony I will admit to watching, although I certainly did not watch at 5am. Thank God for DVR! May started with an announcement of Osama Bin Laden’s death, and the question: does his death make us safer or not? Later in May, we experienced extreme flooding in the South, and more incredibly destructive tornadoes. We also, apparently, avoided the rapture, although the prediction surely caught our global attention, didn’t it? All that, and we aren’t even ½ way through the year yet.

            Sometimes we seem drawn together as a global community – responding to the tragedy in Japan – the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear disaster – sometimes we can really act as one people, and we catch glimpses of what we could be. But more often than not, what makes headlines is what divides us – our families, our communities, our nation, our world. In this midst of this chaos comes our text from Ephesians. Paul is writing to the Christians in Ephesus, most of whom, in this context, were not born Jews, but Gentiles, converts to Christianity, but not to Judaism. Whether new converts had to become Jews before they could become followers of Christ was a matter of heated debate in the early Church. Peter and some other apostles thought that new Christians would of course follow the law and be circumcised, just as he and the rest of the Twelve were faithful Jews who were also disciples. But Paul argued adamantly that if Christ’s message was about grace, then his disciples weren’t under the law in the old way anymore. They are made righteous by faith, not law.

So Paul, writing to the Ephesians, writes to encourage them, to ensure them that they can draw as close to God as those children of Israel who already knew God in a different way, through the law. He says, “now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near.” In other words, for Paul, no matter your starting point, no matter your beginning context, God wants you to draw near, and will encourage you, lure you to do so, lure you into relationship. That’s good news for all of us! Wherever we are now, wherever we started, wherever we’ve been in our life to date, God is luring us closer, calling us to draw near.

But the problem comes when our human nature gets involved. For Peter, and some other leaders in the early church who were Jewish in their starting points, there was sense of priority given to the children of Israel when it came to relationships with God through Christ. They probably wouldn’t put it that way, but some of them seemed to feel very much like their brand of faith was better, and that everyone else who didn’t do it that way couldn’t possibly have a truly good relationship with God, and couldn’t possibly be right about their approach, and  couldn’t possibly be part of the community. They weren’t going to be welcoming, unless people could meet certain standards, unless people completed certain rituals, unless people met certain membership requirements, you might say.

Paul writes convincingly, eloquently, and firmly against this mindset. He says, “Christ is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups [both Gentiles and Jews] into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.” Peace, near and far.

            In some senses, Paul’s message sank in and pervaded the early Church, making it what it is today. Of course, we know, his inclusive view became the dominant view. Today, we do not have to adopt the Jewish faith in order to become disciples of Christ. And eventually, Peter and other leaders began, like Paul, to work with non-Jews in spreading the gospel as well. In fact, it was only a century or two later that the emperor became a Christian, something that would never have occurred if the Jewish/Gentile divide had remained embedded in the Christian movement. In fact, if the baby church hadn’t decided that we were one body in Christ, most of us today would not be Christians – the message would have never been meant for us, but only for a small, chosen few. So that’s the upside, the effect of Paul’s message.

            The downside? If we managed to let Christ break down that dividing wall of hostility between Jewish and Gentile disciples, we apparently took the pieces of the broken wall and used them to build other dividing walls. We acted as if the message Paul shared was helpful only in that context, and not to be applied elsewhere in our lives, in our faith. And so, in our story of Christianity, in our human story, we have a long history of building dividing walls between us and other.

            It wasn’t long after Christians grew in numbers that they actually turned on the very faith they’d once been so anxious to protect, and anti-Jewish sentiment has been a struggle ever since. A wall between us and them, new and old. It was only in 1968 when the Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren merged together that segregation in the church was taken off the book – little more than 40 years ago – 1983 that Northern and Southern branches of the Presbyterian Church reunited. A shameful history of racism, of building walls to keep people of color out, right in our own denominations. Today we can think of literal walls that have been built – the Berlin wall, torn down just 22 years ago. The walls built in Israel/Palestine. Proposed walls between the US and Mexico. Walls of hostility that divide us. And we have walls today in our churches too. These walls usually aren’t advertised. They aren’t named aloud. But they are there, the walls we put up between us and whoever it is we really don’t want to share our lives with. But people can sense when they aren’t welcome somewhere. When there is a boundary preventing them from being included. Sometimes our walls are more personal. Perhaps you’ve built a wall a between yourself and a particular person. With our walls in place, it means we never really see each other, never see face to face that we are both, are all created in God’s image. The walls allow us to make sure we always know the difference between us and them.

            So here we are, today. We live in a time of wall-building at an amazing, speedy, skillful, aggressive pace. We build walls seen and unseen, figurative and literal. We always work out the best excuses and arguments and intentions when it comes to wall building. We do it because – it will keep us safe. Because we’re afraid or in danger. Because we feel threatened. Because we’ve been hurt by others. Because we’re protecting what is ours, what we have. But all of our reasons add up to very little grace.   

To move beyond this, to learn to live as builders of the household of God, and not builders of dividing walls, we have to change the way we look at everything that is not us and ours. In today’s gospel lesson, we find Jesus reuniting with the disciples after their time sent off two by two to preach and teach. Jesus himself is recovering from the loss of his cousin, John the Baptist, who was beheaded by King Herod. And so they want some time away. Jesus says, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For, Mark tells us, with all the coming and going they had not time even to eat. They need a day off. A Sabbath. We can relate to that feeling, right? But the crowds, so anxious for Jesus, follow on foot and arrive ahead of Jesus and the disciples. Can you imagine, on your day off, getting called into work after all? Finding you had responsibilities that meant you couldn’t get time to yourself after all? You can probably feel the expression your face would make. Probably the disciples were making this face too. But Jesus – Jesus sees something else, as he always does. Sees more than we see. We read, “he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.” His eyes see need, and he can’t look away. In fact the word compassion here is from the Greek word splanchnizomai, which means literally to "feel bowels of pity" - it is a physical, gut reaction of the insides - your stomach literally turning over in compassion. That's what Jesus feels when he sees the crowds. He sees not other, or enemy, or threat, or danger, or stranger. He sees them, the people, the ones in need, the names, the lives. He sees the creations of God – the sheep that need a shepherd.

We can only build walls between us and others if that is all we see – someone who is Other. That which is not us. Not-me. Not-us. Not-one-of-us. As long as we define everything else in the world as not-us and not-ours, we can go right along building walls and throwing bombs. But if we see what Jesus sees – if we see with compassion, if our stomachs literally turn over with love for who we see, if we see God’s face instead of no-names, then we won’t be able to build walls that divide. If we see the names, the hearts, the lives that struggle to be as we do in the world, if we see face to face, then we can’t make the other less than us, less than God’s precious children too.

Paul reminds us that he’s not advocating for a wall-less world. We need walls. We need to build. But instead of building to divide, we can build together. We can build to strengthen, build to serve. Paul writes, “you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens . . . and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”

Christ is our peace. He has broken down the dividing walls of hostility between us. Let us pray for a world that lives in this truth. Amen.

Sermon for Fifth Sunday of Easter, "Resurrection Responses: Stephen"

Sermon 5/22/11

Acts 7:55-60

Resurrection Responses: Stephen

Today we’re shifting our usual gears a little bit. Instead of looking at the gospel lesson today, we’re taking time to examine a story from the book of Acts – the Acts of the Apostles, the book, written by Luke, that records the development of the early church, the struggles and triumphs of the disciples who tried to carry out Jesus’ message after he returned to God. It is another one of our Resurrection Responses – how the disciples and first followers, first church members, responded to the resurrection of Jesus, the promise of new life.

Today, we examine a particular life found in Acts, that of Stephen, a man who takes up a small two chapter space in our scriptures. Stephen is known as the first martyr of the Christian faith, the first person who gave up his life because of his belief in the teachings of Jesus as recorded in the scriptures. Today we read in Acts the account of Stephen’s death, as he was stoned by an angry mob. But his story starts a little earlier in the Book of Acts in Chapter 6. Unlike the disciples like Peter and company, Stephen’s task was not primarily as a preacher of the gospel at all – he wasn’t one of the missionaries. Stephen was part of a group of servants who had a special task in the early church. People outside of the faith criticized that the fervor of the disciples for preaching the gospel had caused them to neglect other duties like feeding the widowed and the needy. Their criticism was a reason for them to reject the teachings of Jesus – the disciples didn’t really take care of those in need! Why believe their message of good news? But the twelve responded, “‘It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.’” So seven were chosen, one of whom was this man we read about today, Stephen. These seven looked on the needs of the least in their community, making sure that those who were without could receive food and be taken care of. In other words, Stephen wasn’t a preacher or a pastor, a missionary or a leader. He was a servant, a helper, a lay person in ministry. If Stephen were a 21^st century believer, he might be any one of you – someone who stepped up to help meet the needs of the community.

So how did Stephen go from being such a servant to being the first to give his life for his faith in Jesus? It turns out that Stephen was a rowdy synagogue member. He wasn’t content to just go with the flow or keep quiet in his own community of faith. So Stephen and some of his fellow synagogue members were constantly debating and arguing about his involvement in this new faith. Eventually, his peers had enough, and began to plot against him. We read of their scheming in Acts: “But they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which [Stephen] spoke. Then they secretly instigated some men to say, ‘We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God.’ They stirred up the people as well as the elders and the scribes; then they suddenly confronted him, seized him, and brought him before the council. They set up false witnesses who said, ‘This man never stops saying things against this holy place and the law; for we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses handed on to us.’ And all who sat in the council looked intently at [Stephen], and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.”

The authorities ask Stephen to respond to these accusations. And he does, in a big way. Stephen says that through the ages people have rejected the prophets that God sent to reach them, and just so they rejected Jesus, God-come-to-earth to reach them. He doesn’t try to soften his words, and he doesn’t try to make friends. He doesn’t temper what he says, or recant any of his beliefs, even though he is clearly in trouble. Stephen just says what is on his heart. In the verse before where our passage today begins, we find the response of the synagogue leaders to Stephen’s testimony: “When they heard these things,” we read, “they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen.” Instead of being scared by the group, Stephen is fortified by the vision of Jesus he has that starts our reading today. He tries to share his vision, but his words fall on unhearing ears. The men drag Stephen into the street, they throw their coats at the feet of a man named Saul, and they stone Stephen to death, literally pelting rocks at him until he dies. Stephen’s last words echo Jesus’ on the cross, as he pleads for forgiveness for those who are putting him to death.

            Stephen, the first Christian we know of to give his life for his faith, was not one of the twelve, was not known for his preaching or leadership. He was just someone who was trying to serve others, and he was unwilling to say or do otherwise, even with the cost being his own life. The Greek word that gives us this word ‘martyr’ actually means ‘witness’ – like a witness in a trial. A witness is someone who says what they know, what they’ve seen and heard and experienced. We think of witnessing today in the church as going door to door talking about Jesus. But in the scriptures, witnessing was more like the legal kind of witnessing – just telling the truth. Stephen was a witness, a martyr, telling the truth about what he believed and why he was doing what he was.

When I was in college, I took a few psychology courses as part of my pre-theology major. I loved psychology. I loved particularly adolescent psychology, and driving my brother Todd crazy by telling him that his behaviors were typical adolescent behaviors. He didn’t like that very much. But I also remember clearly being intrigued by the concept of cognitive dissonance. Cognitive dissonance is the uncomfortable, unsettled feeling your mind gets when there’s a gap or distortion or difference between what you believe should be true or feel should be true, and what you know is actually true. For a timely example:  a cult group predicts the end of the world. The end of the world does not arrive on schedule. But then the cult group seems more devoted than ever to its cause or purpose. This is because of cognitive dissonance – our minds are trying to compensate for the difference between what we think or want to be true and what is true, because our minds don’t like that gap. It doesn’t sit well with us. We try to get rid of any cognitive dissonance.

I’ve been thinking about how as people of faith we often experience cognitive dissonance – a gap between what we think we believe is true, and what is true. What we believe is true is what we think, the beliefs we say we hold, the views we have on issues and doctrines, our understanding of God. But what is true for our faith is our daily experience. What we actually do – that’s the concrete truth we experience. The dissonance comes because there is such a gap between what we say we believe, and what we actually do, between what we think is true, and what we experience as true.

There are healthier ways though of dealing with our cognitive dissonance than making our minds believe something we know to be false. For me, for example: I see a disparity between what I say I believe and what is really true according to what I do. I’m experiencing that cognitive dissonance. I say that addressing poverty is a huge justice issue that the gospels call us to give serious attention to – but if I don’t actually spend time serving the poor and building relationships, there’s a disconnect between my beliefs, and my actions. A dissonance. More than unsettling, that’s troubling to my spirituality, preventing my growth as a disciple. So I can deal with that in one of two ways: I can try and convince my mind that Jesus doesn’t really call us to serve the poor, or that giving a little here and a little there is really the kind of care for the least of these Jesus has in mind. Or, I can get my act together, and start building relationships, investing time and energy, and really serving those that Jesus spent so much of his time with. I would sum up our Christian spiritual journeys as a struggle to bring what we believe and what we actually do into harmony. Saying what we believe is the easy part. Doing it is the hard part.

Stephen was a man who had the courage to bring how he lived his life, what he did, in line with what he believed. He wouldn’t waver on either. Because of what he believed, he served God as best he could, with the gifts and talents he had. And because of what he believed, and how he lived, he wasn’t willing to separate his words and actions to make others more comfortable with him. It cost him his life. But I think if he had done otherwise, it would have cost him more – cost him his faith, his integrity, his discipleship. He placed a higher value on those things. Do we do the same? How much dissonance can we live with? What do you believe? What do you do? How much space is there between what you believe and what you do?

I think our journey as disciples is about taking steps to close the gap, to eliminate the spaces that we’ve created between what we believe and what we do. It isn’t an easy task. Like Stephen showed, it takes great courage, and sometimes great sacrifice. This kind of discipleship takes a lifetime to unfold, and can happen in steps that add up to great gifts, seen and unseen by us, always seen by God. Whatever it takes, despite failures and setbacks, despite challenges and obstacles, I think the struggle of discipleship is worth it. Psychologists might call it eliminating our cognitive dissonance. The scriptures, I think, describe it as the peace that passes our understanding. John Wesley might speak of it as things being well with your soul. Whatever you call it, I think we are called to strive after it, with courage, with hope, with God. Amen.

Sermon for Second Sunday of Easter, Year A, "Resurrection Responses: Thomas"

Sermon 5/1/11

John 20:19-31

Resurrection Responses: Thomas

           

            I know some people have been brought up, one way or another, in a spirituality that discourages asking questions, that looks on doubts and questions as disrespectful sometimes, or dangerous, or at least discouraged. But I consider myself pretty lucky not to have had that influence – I was encouraged, if anything, to ask questions about my faith. And  I was lucky to find people in my life that were willing to talk to me about my questions, to try to share their own answers, or, blessedly, to sometimes say the most honest words, the too-often underused words: I don’t know.

            I think our faith grows through our questions and doubts. At the least, our questions and doubts at least show we are interested and engaged. I would rather have a Bible Study group, for example, full of people with questions to discuss, rather than a room full of people who just want – or already know – the answers. And at the best, I think our questions can lead us deeper in our faith, lead us beyond a surface level faith into a real relationship with the living God who created our very questioning minds!

            I can point to my own life, my own faith questions, for some moments that were really pivotal, that could have led me in one direction or another, that really formed who I was, who I am. When I was little, old enough to write, but young enough to be using crayon to do so, my mom came into my room to tuck me in at night to find that I had written a note to God in red crayon. My note said something along the lines of: Dear God, You know I have many questions. Please write the answers here. And I left God the rest of the page blank for answers. Very thoughtful of me, right? My mom sat and talked with me, with a straight face even, and told me that sometimes, the best way to talk to God was to listen to God speaking to me right in my heart, in my mind. Of course, my mother tells me, she really wishes she had just left my paper be – after all, if I had such deep faith that God would leave me red crayon answers, maybe I would have woken up with some answers straight from the source! But the point is: when I was asking questions, my mother just helped me figure out the best way I could get them – by learning to listen for God's voice. She would do this again some years later, when I was asking questions about what happens when we die, and she encouraged me to start reading the Bible, and develop a more regular prayer life.

            When I was in sixth grade, and still attending the little country United Methodist Church in Westernville, I asked my Sunday School teacher a lot of questions. Suddenly it occurred to me to ask about dinosaurs – how could dinosaurs have been extinct millions of years before humans showed up, if the world was created in seven days? He answered that he thought maybe God's time was different than our time, that maybe our days and a day to God was different. I was intrigued by his answer, and grew up with the idea, then, that science and faith could work hand in hand, and not at cross-purposes.

When I was in Sunday School in junior high – and maybe our Sunday School teachers right now are starting to become thankful they never had me as a student – you might remember me telling you that it was in junior high that I became, well, obsessed with Jesus Christ Superstar. And since I had a big crush on the actor playing Judas, I also became very intrigued by Judas. Was he in hell, even if he was part of the plan all along? The betrayal necessary for Jesus to fulfill what he seemed sure he must do? I asked my teacher, and she told me: Judas was in hell because he committed suicide. End of story. No room for conversation. I had a really hard time with her response. For Judas, for suicide, for God's love that keeps us in life and death. I wrote into a Christian youth magazine that I loved and asked the same questions. The editor wrote back a full page letter, sharing his belief in God's inexhaustible grace, in only God knowing us enough to judge our lives. Well, you know that I still love Superstar, I still have a special place in my heart for Judas – but you might not know that I went on to write my senior religion paper in college about Judas too.

I don’t mean to make this sermon just a trip down memory lane, entertaining though that may be for all of us! But I mean to point out – questions and doubts – they can be, when handled with care – doorways, openings, pathways to a faith, a relationship, a spiritual richness that is yet unknown and unimagined.

Today, we encounter a gospel lesson that focuses on the most famous doubter of all, one forever known by his act of questioning: doubting Thomas. So few of the twelve disciples are singled out in the gospels. We know quite a bit about Peter, but about the others, hardly anything. And for Thomas, virtually the only mention of him in the gospels is this scene today. Thomas doesn’t believe Jesus is raised until he sees Jesus with his own eyes, and he’s forever after known as Doubting Thomas.

            Our text opens on the evening of Easter Sunday. At this point, only Mary Magdalene has seen the risen Christ. Peter and another disciple had seen the empty tomb, but left before seeing Jesus. Mary had told them that she’d seen Jesus, but we see today that her news apparently had little effect on them. The disciples are locked up in the house where they’re staying, afraid because of the events of Jesus’ crucifixion and death. They’re not rejoicing. They’re scared. But suddenly, Jesus appears, and says, “Peace be with you.” He shows them his wounds, confirming that he is the very Jesus they saw die. He again blesses them with peace, and tells them they will be sent as he was sent. He breathes on them, and speaks of the Holy Spirit, and gives them authority.

            But Thomas isn’t there with them for some reason. The disciples share what they have seen – that they’ve seen Jesus. But Thomas says that unless he sees for himself, he won’t believe. A week later, the disciples are again in the house together, this time with Thomas too. Jesus again appears, with words of peace. And this time, Thomas sees for himself. “My Lord and my God!” he exclaims. Jesus says, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

            And so Thomas, then nicknamed “the Twin,” finds himself a new nickname: Doubting Thomas. Peter didn’t have this same bad luck – he denied Jesus in the critical moment, but we know so much more about him and so we’re able to see a better picture of the ‘full Peter’. We know he’s more than that one event. We know him as Peter the Rock of the Church, not as Peter the Abandoner of Jesus. But we don’t have anything much else about Thomas in the Bible. Some of his writings do exist – there is more to know about Thomas – but these writings are not part of the canon – the official collection – of scripture we call the Bible. So for us, Thomas’ whole discipleship is summed up in this one event – Doubting Thomas. Imagine if your life was summed up in a label like that, based on one event, one action you took, one question you asked. What word would describe you fairly? Fully?           

Besides, “doubting” is hardly a label that Thomas deserves more than any of the others – he was the only one asked to believe for sure that Jesus was alive without the benefit of seeing him. Would the others have been convinced without seeing Jesus themselves? Well, Peter and another disciple had already been to the tomb, as we read last week, and they were still confused and locked in fear in this room until Jesus appeared before them. Apparently, they weren’t so full of faith that they were ready to venture out of hiding. I think given the chance, we would have seen all of the remaining eleven disciples do just what Thomas did – ask for some more convincing proof.

            Importantly, though, Jesus doesn’t seem to mind Thomas’ doubt, as long as that’s not where Thomas ends up. I think we’re a bit afraid of doubt, or how God will react to our doubts and questions about faith. There’s so much we don’t understand about God or how God works in the world or about what God wants us to do. But sometimes, we’re afraid to admit that we don’t get it. Maybe we’re afraid that God will punish us for having doubts, or that we’re the only ones with doubts. But this passage, Thomas’ encounter with Jesus should put our fears to rest. Jesus says that those who believe without seeing are blessed. But he doesn’t say Thomas is bad or wrong or a failure because he has doubts. In fact, Jesus just gives Thomas what he needs to move from doubt to faith. He shows Thomas his wounds, a reassurance, and brings him peace, a comfort, just as he did for others. Like so many people have in my own life, Jesus just used Thomas’ questions to move him, and the rest of the disciples, to a deeper understanding of how God was at work.           

            Easter isn’t just a one day celebration for people of faith. It isn’t over. Christians call themselves Easter people, because we’re always people who believe in new life and resurrection, every single week. But we’re also in the midst of the Easter Season – the great fifty days of Easter. This season goes from Easter Sunday to the Day of Pentecost in May. It represents the time that Jesus spent with the disciples after the resurrection, preparing them to do the work he’d set out for them. They were filled with doubts and fears, and worries, and a lack of understanding, even still, even after the resurrection. But they believed in God, in Christ’s ability to shape and guide them. So whether you are the one asking questions, or the one trying to open a door for a curious mind, know that God always meets us where we are, and leads us on.

            Amen.

Sermon for Third Sunday in Lent, "Voices: Woman at the Well"

Sermon 3/27/11

John 4:5-42

Voices: Woman at the Well

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

Today we encounter this fascinating story from the gospel of John, the only gospel where we find this passage, the woman at the well. As I was reading over this passage I began to suspect and had to check up this, and found I was right: This passage gives us the longest recorded conversation between Jesus and another person. That should peak our interest - something important happens here.

Jesus is travelling from place to place and his destination causes him to travel through a Samaritan city. The Jews and the Samaritans didn’t get along. They had common religious ancestry, but over the centuries they had divided and come to have different religious beliefs, and their differences caused prejudices on both sides, conflicts. Samaritans believed that only the Pentateuch was scripture – only the first five books of our Bible – the law of Moses. They didn’t hold the prophets and other writings as scripture. And they believed that Mount Sinai, not Jerusalem, was the holy place of worship. But Jews and Samaritans didn’t just have different views on religious beliefs. Relations between the two groups were tense and unfriendly, with Jews typically viewing Samaritans as lower and unclean. Maybe those differences in belief don’t’ seem very significant enough – not enough to cause so much hostility – but goodness knows we fight with each other over less significant divides.

But, still, Jesus travels through this Samaritan town, and stops at a well, tired from his journey. A Samaritan woman, unnamed like so many women in the Bible, comes to the well, and Jesus asks her to draw him some water to drink. The passage mentions the time of the day that she comes to the well – noon. Since most passages don’t give us a time, we can guess again that it is significant. Noon would have been the hottest hour – not usually the hour to come to the well. So this unnamed woman, coming to the well at noon – it suggests she’s an outcast, or wants to void the eyes of others. She’s surprised that Jesus even speaks to her. As a rabbi, a teacher, a man, Jesus wouldn’t have initiated conversation with a woman in a public place. And as a Jew, Jesus wouldn’t have initiated conversation with a Samaritan, as she notes. But Jesus tells her, “if you knew the gift of God, and who it is [that is talking to you], you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman is naturally confused by Jesus’ strange talk. How can he get water without a bucket, she wonders? Jacob, their revered forefather got water from a well with the help of God. Can this man Jesus do that? Jesus answers, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” The woman responds, even if not understanding fully, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” Jesus goes on to tell the woman all about herself, her history. The woman asks if Jesus is a prophet – an interesting question from a Samaritan, since they don’t hold the writings of prophets as scripture. They debate a bit, about their different religious views. But Jesus tells her, “the hour is coming, and is now here, when the truth worshipers will worship God in spirit and truth, for God seeks such as these to worship. God is spirit, and those who worship God must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman says she knows that the Messiah is coming. Jesus says he is the Messiah.

The passage goes on. The disciples show up, surprised at Jesus’ conversation partner, but wise enough apparently after long enough with Jesus to keep their thoughts to themselves. Jesus says something to them about food to eat, and they, like the woman, are confused by his talk. But Jesus says, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to proclaim his work.” He talks about the Samaritans being ready for the harvest, ready to receive the good news. Indeed, the passage closes with the woman bringing others to meet Jesus, this man who knew all about her, and they believe that he is the savior because of her witness.

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            I am struck by the fact that the woman does not bristle when Jesus calls her out for her five husbands. She doesn’t deny it or justify it or get upset. Perhaps she doesn’t react badly because Jesus doesn’t say it with judgment – he just states it as fact about her. But indeed, the woman takes Jesus’ words to her and uses them as a reason to compel others to come to meet Jesus: “This man told me everything I have ever done.” Now of course, unless we’re missing a big chunk of conversation, Jesus didn’t exactly tell her about her life from birth to present – but for the woman, Jesus captured the facts that have defined her life so far.

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            Do we have to change in order to be loved? If someone really knew us, would we still be lovable? Or are we only lovable in so far as we can meet certain expectations? Do we have to keep people at arm’s length from really knowing us in order to be loved? I think these are maybe the voices this woman was used to hearing. And they’re certainly voices we are used to hearing, aren’t they?

            You only need to spend about five minutes watching commercials, or drive down the highway and look at the billboards, or check out the advertisements in magazines and online, or basically just exist in this world to be bombarded with messages that all say one basic thing: You are not good enough how you are to be of value, worthy of love. But if you buy this, if you change yourself, if you put on the right mask – then, then, you might be loveable. But as you are – you’re too thin, too tall, too fat, too short, too poor, bad skin, bad hair, not dressed in the right style, in the right brands, not shopping at the right stores, not driving the right car, not living in a nice enough home, a clean enough home, not a good enough parent – and you won’t really be lovable – desirable, admirable, interesting – worth someone’s time, attention, care, or love, until you can make some changes in yourself.

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            Do we have to change in order to be loved? What if we don’t? What if we are totally lovable, totally valuable, totally of sacred worth already, just because we are, just because we have already been created in God’s image, just because we exist? I think, at the well, for the first time this woman hears another voice, offering another truth than the one she has been told, has been living for so long. She’s known. And she is loved. Loved and known. Jesus knows everything about her, and he still spends time with her. Knows everything about her, and still offers her living water. Knows everything about her, and yet makes no demands of her. Jesus doesn’t say that living water is hers after she makes amends for her sins or changes something about herself. He just offers, and it is hers for the taking. He knows her. He loves her. What if we are already lovable?

            To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.

            The woman at the well – she does change. She hears Jesus’ voice, she wants the living water, and what’s more, she’s compelled to share it. “Come and see” she says to those in town – perhaps the very ones who have made her feel like an outsider. “Come and see” – see the one who knows me. We don’t have to change to be loved. But love changes us – being loved changes us, being known changes us. Not into some picture-perfect Christian – but love can changes us, move us to be fully ourselves, fully disciples, fully God’s.

            God knows you. Knows your heart. Knows your nature. Knows your soul. Knows you and loves you. Does that love change you? I hope so. Real love always changes us. But God’s love is there already to ground you, to guide you, to quench your thirsting soul. Come and see. Amen. 

Sermon for Second Sunday in Lent, Year A, "Voices: Nicodemus"

Sermon 3/20/11

John 3:1-17

Voices: Nicodemus

            When I was little, the small country church I went to in Westernville had a big emphasis in Sunday School on memorizing Bible verses. Every week we’d spend some time going over verses, and in the older classes, we’d actually get 5 cents for every verse we could memorize. I was certainly inspired by promise of such riches, and could memorize quite a lot of verses! Today we don’t focus so much on memorizing verses, which has some pros and cons – a single verse taken out of context doesn’t always do you much good, and in fact, can lead you to wrong conclusions when you don’t know the rest of what’s happened in a passage! So we tend today to focus more on teaching whole stories, rather than memorizing single verses. Nonetheless, you probably still know this verse by heart, in the King James Version even – John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Yet, even though we know that verse so well, here’s a perfect example of what I was talking about – do you know the context? How does Jesus come to say these words? As we continue our Lenten journey, and listen in on the voices pulling at our gospel characters, today we meet up with a man named Nicodemus.

Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a leader among the Pharisees. The Pharisees were the scholars and interpreters of the law with whom Jesus was most often in conflict, because the Pharisees, Jesus argued, tried to put too many rules and regulations on the people for being “good Jews,” while managing to miss the heart and soul of it – that is, relationship with God. Nicodemus is sort of stepping out of the pack by coming to see Jesus – he’s taking a risk because he has some questions that he really wants Jesus to answer. But also note that he’s protecting himself and his position too – he comes to see Jesus at night, when he can meet with Jesus without drawing attention to himself.

            Nicodemus acknowledges Jesus’ legitimacy – “no one can do these signs apart from the presence of God,” he says. But Jesus pushes him: “Truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Remember, the kingdom of God being here and now – that’s the core of Jesus’ message. Jesus turns the focus away from himself and his power, and to Nicodemus – and whether or not Nicodemus wants to be part of the kingdom of God. Jesus is always an outside-the-box thinker, but Nicodemus can’t understand what Jesus is getting at – “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” he wonders. Can you enter the womb again and be born? But Jesus explains that he means that we have to be Spirit-born as well as born in flesh, and wonders how one who is a teacher of Israel can’t get it.

            Then Jesus says, “and just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” This is a strange verse if you don’t know the context. Jesus is talking about something we can find in the book of Numbers, chapter 21, this story of the bronze serpent. The Israelites, still wandering in the desert, were complaining to God and Moses about food and water, when poisonous snakes were sent among the people. The snakes would bite the people, and the people would die. The people understood these snakes to be a punishment on them from God. So they came to Moses and confessed their sinfulness, and asked Moses for help. Moses prayed for the people, and heard God’s voice, telling him to create a serpent out of bronze that would be fixed to a pole. The passage concludes, “whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.”

            Jesus says “and just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” The serpent, raised up for the Israelites, gave them earthly life. Jesus, raised up – and the word here for raised up is actually the same as “crucified” – Jesus, raised up, gives life too – real life, eternal life. Then, finally the verse that we know so well, and its match –  “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Jesus is the life-giver – that is his purpose – to give life, not to condemn and judge, but to save, and make whole, to help people see, be part of the kingdom of God.

            What we don’t know is how Nicodemus responds, at least immediately, to what he hears from Jesus. Clearly Jesus’ words have overwhelmed him. It is a lot to take in. And the scriptures record no response. What we do see in the gospels in Nicodemus appearing later – first when the Pharisees are urging action against Jesus, and Nicodemus reminds them that the law doesn’t condemn people without giving them a trial first. And then, after Jesus’ crucifixion, Nicodemus assists Joseph of Arimathea with Jesus’ burial. So we know that Nicodemus doesn’t immediately drop his nets, so to speak, to follow Jesus. But it seems like something might be sinking in by degrees – willing to raise his voice amongst his peers on Jesus’ behalf, and then, at the end, participating in honoring Jesus for his burial.

            In some ways I related to Nicodemus more than others who encounter Jesus in the gospels. When Jesus calls Simon Peter, for example, Peter just drops his nets and follows. I find it hard to imagine that kind of complete, life-changing response, so immediate and total. No time to think or plan or process. It is so hard to imagine being like that, when it seems a struggle to make just the simplest of lasting changes in my life. But Nicodemus – a skeptic maybe, confused, believing and not yet acting on what he’s beginning to believe, what he knows to be true somewhere buried inside – I find I can relate to Nicodemus. The people who already have nothing, like fishermen and tax collectors, prostitutes and poor folk, who already have been told they count for nothing – embracing Jesus makes sense. But for those who have something to lose, some power to give up, some control to hand over to God in order to enter this kingdom as peers, co-workers with the “least of these” – well, the choice is a challenge, the conflicting voices – called to the status quo or called to God and new life that requires being born, spiritually, all over again.

            You might wonder why we celebrate the baptisms of children and infants. In baptism we affirm what Jesus speaks of here – born of water and Spirit. But don’t we have to wait until we can know for ourselves, claim for ourselves that we want to be reborn? Renewed? Recreated? But what we do in baptism, when her parents and godparents and all of us take vows on Ella’s behalf – what we do is commit to helping her hear God’s voice, when we know how hard that will be sometimes in her life. And we acknowledge that even now, even already, even as she came into being, God’s voice was already calling to her, offering life. We commit to helping her claim that gift. Like Nicodemus we struggle with letting Jesus change us, even when we believe what Jesus says – and so we begin now with Ella, that she might have a whole lifetime to be a disciple.

            For God so loves Ella – for God so loves me – for God so loves you, that God gave Jesus, that you who believe in him might not perish but have eternal life. Amen.   

Sermon for First Sunday in Lent, Year A, "Voices: Tempted"

Sermon 3/13/11

Voices: Tempted

On Wednesday night this past week, at our Ash Wednesday service, I introduced our Lenten theme for this year – Voices. We talked about how many voices are clamoring for our attention in this world. Throughout the season of Lent, we’ll try to listen in on those voices, and in particular, listen for the voice of God in the midst of all the other noise. That’s really what Lent is about – that’s why Lent is a season of reflection, repentance, renewal, why people focus on sacrifice, austerity, a lifestyle that is perhaps a little less indulgent than usual. It’s a time to tune everything else out so we can tune in to God. So throughout Lent, we’ll listen in to the gospel stories where we see examples of just that – characters trying to decide which voices to listen to. We begin with one who sets the example for us – Jesus.  

In our gospel lesson, Jesus has just been baptized by John, his cousin. And he’s heard God’s voice saying, “This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” He’s grounded already in the truth of that voice. But Jesus has not yet taught and preached or called his disciples. It’s a retreat time, a preparation time for him. He takes this journey into the wilderness as a last time apart before a three year period of ministry that will bring him relentlessly closer to the cross, to his death. Jesus follows the Spirit of God to the wilderness, “to be tempted by the devil” we’re told. He fasts for 40 days and nights, and is weak and famished.

With Jesus in this vulnerable state, another voice calls to Jesus. We read that the tempter comes to him and says, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” Jesus responds with scripture: “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” So the devil takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple, and tells him to throw himself down, quoting scriptures right back at Jesus: “if you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, their hands will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” Jesus responds that the scripture says we’re not to put God to the test. Finally, the devil takes Jesus to a mountain peak, and offers Jesus all the kingdoms he can see if only Jesus will worship the devil.” But Jesus sends him away, saying, “it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only [God.]’” Finally, the devil departs, unsuccessful in his quest to lead Jesus off God’s path.

The voice of the devil tempts Jesus with power. Jesus has power, of course. But what kind of power does Jesus have, and how does Jesus use it? How does the voice of the devil want Jesus to use his power? That’s what’s at stake in this passage. I’ve always struggled with the story of Jesus’ temptation because what the devil offers Jesus doesn’t seem very tempting for Jesus. Jesus already has the power to do what the devil offers. We see Jesus multiply loaves and make water into wine. We see at the end of this passage that angels attend to him. We know that Jesus could be an earthly king if he chose – he talks about this frequently in the gospels. What’s so tempting for him in this passage, since the devil doesn’t ask Jesus to do anything that it is outside of his power to do already?

I think they are tempting to Jesus because they are easy for him, and they would directly benefit Jesus, no one else, and they wouldn’t cost Jesus in the way that the path Jesus is on will cost him. What the devil offers is what Jesus already has and already can do, but in a short-cut way that corrupts and twists. It’s the easy way, what the devil offers, and the easy way is always alluring, isn’t it? What the devil asks Jesus to do is to forget who he is, what he is called to do, whose child he is, what his purpose is. Jesus knows what he’s come for – but the devil is trying to convince him that he can get essentially the same things in a supposedly easier way. And that, I think, is the true temptation, the temptation that shows Jesus to be one of us, the temptation that Jesus withstands and calls us to withstand too.  

I think that the biggest temptations we face are not temptations that would lead us to break one of the ten commandments for instance, though of course these things can all be tough temptations. I think the biggest temptation is the temptation to forget – to forget who we are, and what “who we are” means. It is easy to listen to the voices that ell us to think more of what benefits us than what will help others. It is easier to be comfortable than to be challenged. It is easier to just glide along in life without really making an attempt to follow Jesus and live as he lived. To be “basically nice people” instead of being disciples – I think this is the biggest temptation we face. We’re tempted to forget that we’re beloved children of God, created uniquely, and created with a purpose, to love and to serve God and one another.   

In the end, what God has in store for Jesus and what the devil seems to offer to Jesus aren’t that different from one another. The devil offers Jesus power and rule of kingdoms, but this is already what Jesus has as God’s child, even if it is not in the way that the devil imagines. If both God and Satan are making the same promises to us – how can we tell whose voice is whose? Think of two stones: diamonds, and cubic zirconium. They can look pretty similar, if you’re not looking carefully enough. But one stone is highly valuable, while another is thought of as a cheap imitation. That’s what we have to do with our temptations: remember that one path is worthwhile, and the other will only offer a cheap imitation of the life that we can have with God. Telling them apart – that’s probably easier than we think, even if we don’t like the answer. I’ve generally found in my own life, that God’s voice, God’s promises, God’s path – these things usually involve doing something that I don’t want to do, don’t feel prepared to do, don’t like doing, am afraid to do, am reluctant to do, something that is harder, requires me to give, to risk, to go against the flow, to work with people I don’t like – but ultimately fills my life in a way nothing else can. Following the alternative path – the imitation path - is usually easier – requires less thought. Has more immediate rewards. Lets you shut others out. And ultimately, leaves that empty feeling in the pit of your stomach. That feeling that your life is missing something essential. That feeling that despite having money, or possessions, or security, or whatever else you bargained for – you’re still coming up short – still unsatisfied.

We might wish for a way to solve the world's problems, to actually turn stones into bread, to cure problems like hunger and disease. Instead, God calls us to work to feed our neighbor, clothe the naked, visit the sick: not by magic powers, but with our own two hands, our own time, our own resources. We might wish that we could control the nations of this world, so that everything could be done our way, even a good way. Instead, God call us to work for peace, to build relationships, to go through long and difficult dialogues across racial, ethnic, and global boundaries, to see our neighbors near and far. We might wish that God would give us a sign, proof of existence, proof of care for us, a map of our future blessings. Instead, God reminds us evidence of God's existence is all around us - it is our discipleship that needs to be tested more often than not!

Today, voices offer us tempting promises and a huge amount of power. Both the voice of God and the voice of evil promise to give us more than we can imagine. Both will give us and expect us to use power. Both promise us a full, abundant life. But only one deal can live up to our expectations. Only one path can satisfy the deepest longings of our heart. Which voice will you listen to? Which path will you choose?

Jesus calls us to resist the temptation to underestimate ourselves, to think that we can't make change without taking the easy path offered by the devil. The forty days of Lent we take as a journey with Jesus in the wilderness. God has blessed us so greatly that when we journey with Jesus we can do amazing things. We can change the world. We can change lives. We can bring joy. We can end pain. We can share God. We can challenge the status quo. We can tear down walls of oppression. We can change ourselves. That's a lot of ability that God has given into such faulty creatures. So much potential to do what is wrong, what is evil, what is easy, what is tempting. Yet so much potential to do what is challenging, what is difficult, what is right, what is good, what is demanded and required of us by our Creator. God is speaking. Are you listening?

Amen.

Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday, Year A, "On the Mountain"

Sermon 3/6/11

Matthew 17:1-9, Exodus 24:12-18

On the Mountain

This Sunday is the last Sunday in our series about goals for the church. On Wednesday, Lent begins with Ash Wednesday, and our focus will change for a forty day journey. But today, the goal I want us to focus on serves as sort of a transition between where we are and where we’re going. This week, we’re talking about worship. One of our goals is to have meaningful worship that is relevant and powerful for people of all generations. Of course, as human beings, we are all so unique and different, and what is meaningful to me in worship may not be meaningful to you. As a church, we incorporate worshippers from infancy to older adulthood, and that means we try to make worship meaningful for children and teens, for young adults and young parents, for baby boomers and retirees. It is a challenge to find a balance in worship – we try to balance traditional hymns with newer music. We try to use different styles of prayer, different types of liturgy. We serve communion in different styles. We try to incorporate imagery and sounds into our worship and learning. We try to make things relevant for today’s world, while making sure that we pass on a faith that has been nurtured for thousands of years. We try to keep familiar practices while introducing new ones that respond to where we are now.

As it happens, our focus on worship this Sunday falls on a special day in the liturgical year. The last Sunday before the start of Lent is Transfiguration Sunday. Transfiguration Sunday celebrates the transfiguration of Jesus. And the transfiguration itself is hard to describe, but we might understand it as Jesus’ true nature – all his divinity, his godliness – momentarily being seen while he still walked on earth with us, revealed to Peter, James, and John. For a brief moment, Jesus is transfigured, or transformed, and his holiness is unveiled in a sense, and three of his closest disciples witness it. To be honest, this probably still doesn’t sound very exciting to us, does it? Maybe just more confusing than anything. And indeed, I don’t think reading about it will ever convey to us exactly what happened on that day, or what Peter, James, and John actually saw and felt. But I think we can study this passage and get a better sense of things, and learn to relate to their experience – and I think that’s what’s key for us.

The text opens with “six days later.” Six days after what? The previous chapter tells us it is six days after Peter both answered the question “Who do you say that I am?” with “You are the Messiah” to Jesus, and was rebuked by Jesus, who said to Peter, “get behind me, Satan,” when Peter didn’t want to hear about the suffering and death Jesus would soon face. So six days after this, Jesus takes Peter, James and John up the mountain. There he is transfigured, changed in some way, face shining like the sun, and seen speaking with Moses and Elijah, who represent the law and the prophets, the pillars of Judaism. The three disciples are afraid and confused, but yet Peter still offers to build dwellings so that they can all stay there on the mountain. But God speaks from the overshadowing cloud: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” Jesus, back to normal, and alone again with the three, tells them to get up, not to be afraid. And they return back down the mountain.

Our Exodus text has some similar themes today – we read about Moses going up the mountain where he receives the Ten Commandments and other law from God. We read, “Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. Moses entered the cloud, and went up on the mountain. Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.” Again, we don’t know exactly what happens “in the cloud” – but clearly a deeply spiritual holy experience happens on the mountain.

From texts like these we can easily see why we might talk about having mountain-top experiences. We generally use this phrase to describe a particular time when we feel close to God. I know with the conference youth I’ve worked with, they often speak of our events, our gatherings, as mountain-top experiences – these intense, spiritual times where it seems so much easier to see God, understand what God wants them to do. It’s how I used to feel spending a week at summer camp when I was little – I couldn’t wait to get there, and I couldn’t wait to go back when it was over. It seemed pretty hard to capture that mountain-top experience when in the real world. Something about being on the mountain-top helps makes God’s voice seem clear.

One of my favorite series of books is C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia, and one book in the series has a mountain-top scene that seems on task: in book four, The Silver Chair, a young girl named Jill finds herself on a high mountain, being given a task by Aslan, the Christ-like figure of the series. Though she likes being on the mountain, near to Aslan, she soon must travel down into the world to set about the tasks he appointed for her. As she is traveling into the world, he speaks these words to her. "I give you a warning," he says, "Here on the mountain I have spoken to you clearly: I will not often do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as you drop down into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind. And the Signs which you have learned here will not look at all as you expect them to look, when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearances. Remember the Signs and believe the Signs. Nothing else matters."

So what does all of this, what does the transfiguration have to do with worship? I think worship is a time when we particularly seek to draw close to God. It’s like going up on a mountain, where we hope we will find God’s voice to be a bit clearer. And hopefully, like Aslan said to Jill in The Silver Chair, we can remember the Signs when we’re not on the mountain. In other words, we take our experience of closeness to God in worship and let it permeate our whole lives.

We worship because God is God and we are not! We worship because God is love and we seek to love in response. We worship because as God chooses us, creates us, we in turn want to say that we’ve chosen God above all else. It is God who we promise to love with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. And because of that, and to show that, we love our neighbors, our fellow human creations. We worship because God is who God is. And we worship because we want to know this God, encounter this God, hear from this God, be moved by this God. In his book chapter about passionate worship, Bishop Robert Schnase writes, “People are searching for worship that is authentic, alive, creative, and comprehensible, where they experience the life-changing presence of God in the presence of others . . . Worship [is when] we gather deliberately seeking to encounter God in Christ. We cultivate our relationship with God and with one another as the people of God. We don’t attend worship to squeeze God into our lives; we seek to meld our lives into God’s.” (Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, 33-34, emphasis mine.) We come to the mountain to seek God’s voice. We come down from the mountain and seek to share God’s voice in the world and let it shape our lives.

            Over the last few weeks I’ve been giving you challenges – giving us challenges, concrete ways to live out our goals for ministry in the year ahead. I hope by now, you are getting familiar enough with them that you know them – hopefully you aren’t sick of them yet!  - but hopefully you are starting to remember them well! Our first goal is about being welcoming and sharing the good news. Our challenge is to invite and bring at least one person to worship with you in the year ahead and hopefully help that person become part of the life of this congregation. I hope you’ve already started thinking about who you want to invite. Our second challenge relates to our commitment to mission and our belief that we see Jesus when we truly see one another. So our challenge is to engage in or go deeper with a face-to-face mission, a mission that is relationship-centered. And last week we talked about stewardship and our relationship with God – our task, easy or hard – is to give, every time we give, with a spirit of joy and thanksgiving, so that every time we give it is a celebration of God at work in us.

The challenge that I want to give to you this week is for you to commit to, to fully engage in worship in the season of Lent.  Lent is a season that is just forty days long. Forty days. And during this season we begin with an Ash Wednesday service this week. We will have mid-week services all season where we’ll celebrate with a meal and communion and fellowship and conversation about mission. We have Holy Week services that are unique and special – from Palm/Passion Sunday, to Maundy Thursday with communion and stripping the sanctuary, to Good Friday and a tenebrae service or a time for prayer in the sanctuary, and finally, Easter Sunday. I guarantee to you that you will find Easter worship more meaningful if you have been part of the entire Lenten journey – you will appreciate the destination more if you know what it took to get there. If for some reason you can’t get here to worship during Lent, I encourage you to worship where you are, or to be intentional about your devotional life during the season of Lent.

            If you are interested in talking more about worship and styles of worship and what makes worship meaningful, I invite you to join a small group conversation on Friday, March 25^th, at 6pm. If you want to participate in worship – behind the scenes, up front, in designing worship, or leading worship, please let me or a member of the worship committee know. Worship is the work of all God’s people, and I want you to be invested in our time together with God.

            On Wednesday Lent begins, and worship is at the heart of our Lenten journey. Come, let us worship. Amen.