Author Archives: RevJule

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About RevJule

RevJule is a pastor of the Presbyterian Church (USA). She is The Rev. Dr. Jule, who holds a BA in Theology from Valparaiso University, a Masters of Divinity from Vanderbilt University Divinity School, and a Doctorate of Ministry (in Gospel and Culture) from Columbia Theological Seminary of Decatur, GA. She soon recently completed a Certificate of Christian Spiritual Formation from Columbia Theological Seminary of Decatur, GA and is beginning to be trained as a Spiritual Director through the Haden Institute in North Carolina. RevJule has served in a variety of professional ministry settings ranging from specialized ministry among children and families to adult ministry to solo pastorate work. She began writing almost before she could read and it was her way to connect deeply with God, others, and her truest self. RevJule currently enjoys creating weekly worship experiences and sermons for a congregation she is leading on a journey of self-re-definition. She enjoys teaching and connecting with others about matters of faith and life. She makes time almost daily for sitting quietly, being with her closest friends, walking her toy poodle Rufus, reading great books, and digging into the soil of whatever garden she can create. If you like what you are reading here, contact her to schedule a retreat or other spiritual formation experience for your faith community.

Great book to check out: “Bless Her Heart”

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This quote below makes me lol!!! Anyone who cares at all about church, and especially pastors, should be required to read this lil gem of a book! It was written by young female clergy for young female clergy and is based on too many experiences so many of us girl preachers have encountered. I wish I had it 20 years ago when I was starting. The book starts with a chapter on shoes, sandals, and toe polish – something we get to re-navigate with each congregation! Love, love, love this book!!!
– RevJule

“Let’s be honest: I didn’t mean to scream out, “Come get these damn flowers!” to the elderly parishioner on the phone. It just happened. Most unfortunately, it happened on Easter Sunday. I was completely exhausted. I had led a service every day for the last eight days. My parents were in town and were getting annoyed that I couldn’t find one hour to come have some Easter dinner with them. And I was up to my eyeballs in lilies that had to be delivered to nursing homes across town before I could go home and collapse.”

Excerpt From:
Ashley-Anne Masters & Stacy Smith. “Bless Her Heart.” Chalice Press. iBooks.
This material may be protected by copyright.

13 July 2014 sermon — Genesis 25:19-34

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DISCLAIMER: I believe sermons are meant to be heard. They are the word proclaimed in a live exchange between God and the preacher, and the preacher and God, and the preacher and the people, and the people and the preacher, and the people and God, and God and the people. Typically set in the context of worship and always following the reading of scripture, sermons are about listening and speaking and hearing and heeding. At the risk of stepping outside such boundaries, I share sermons here — where the reader will have to wade through a manuscript that was created to be spoken word. Even if you don’t know the sound of my voice, let yourself hear as you read. Let your mind see as you hear. Let your life be opened to whatever response you begin to hear within you.
May the Spirit Speak to you!
RevJule
______________________

“Brotherhood”

13 July 2014 – 5th Sunday after Pentecost
Click here to read scripture first: Genesis 25:19-34 (NRS)

A few years ago the movie Legends of the Fall was quite popular. Why wouldn’t it be with Anthony Hopkins as the proud old father of three boys – one of whom was played by Brad Pitt back in his early heartthrob days. It was the story of three brothers. The eldest was serious and stern. Focused on the right ways and a little bit reserved because of how others would think of him. The youngest seemed indulged. The apple of all their eyes he was passionate and diligent. His big brothers believed they had to remain in that role of protecting him from his own naiveté. And then there was Brad Pitt’s character: Tristan. If you saw the movie, you know he was the rebellious one. Though no one really cared because of his dashing looks, his easy mannerisms, and his ability to make all the ladies love him. The story starts out blissfully as the boys and their father forge a living on the wide open frontier in the early 1900s in America. Well, everything’s not quite fine as their mother refused to move from her comfortable New England lifestyle to the rugged wild West. Before you know it, a World War breaks out and the boys find themselves embroiled in battle in Europe. It’s almost a metaphor for the days to come in their family, because when the younger one dies in battle, the cracks in their family connection shatter completely. Before you know it, the older two brothers are locked in a bitter divide, which never is fully reconciled. I guess we should have got that from the title: Legends of the Fall. The story of one family’s ugly undoing.

I’ve never had one in my biological family, so I don’t really get it about brothers. What is it about them that such competition can be the norm? And grudges: o, it seems there is nothing worse than one brother who believes himself wronged by the other. I hope none of you know any of this up close and personal. Two or more brothers who no longer talk to each other over who knows what. Maybe one thought mom and dad loved the other more. Or brother number one failed to live up to brother number two’s expectations. Or maybe one of them really did destroy all family harmony. Good reasons may exist for the ice cold chill that has developed between them. It’s just that: they’re brothers! Flesh from the same flesh. With the same parents and home and history.

We could just look to scripture to know it so often turns out this way between brothers. And sisters too, I know, it’s just that the brothers of the bible get a lot more attention than the girl siblings of scripture. Cain and Able are the first two brothers scripture records. We remember what happens to them, right? They are complete opposites, even though they have the same parents. And in a tale that may have grown too familiar to shock us anymore, from the start one of the first brothers kills the other. It’s been said that the first question posed by a human being in scripture is Cain’s guilt-ridden response when God asks where his brother is. “I don’t know,” Cain replies to the God who already is on to the atrocious act committed. Cain goes on to ask: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9). The rest of scripture is the story in answer to that question. YES! God pretty much says from the start. You ARE your brother’s keeper!

At least we get a little bit of progress in Jacob and Esau. Of course it all seems worse because they’re not just brothers: they are twins! They don’t just have the same parents, they literally shared the same womb at the very same time. The way scripture describes them, they must have been fraternal twins. You know: the ones that are their own eggs and grow in their own placentas. Still there never is a time when the other one was not. Until death, twins never know a moment of life without their co-multiple. Even if one is born a bit before the other, supposedly birth order issues do not play out the same between twins as they do between singletons. Twins share a unique bond that is constant and oh so very powerful. What a gift to have another human being’s life so intricately woven together with your own. Which may be the reason why twins can be so incredibly complex. Once parents make it through the long nights of double feedings and duplicate diaper changes; if they’ve been able to secure the coveted double stroller; if mom and dad have made it out of their twin’s first years of life with the joys of two sets of first steps and two times of first words; with two successful potty trainings and two burgeoning personalities; twins bring difficult parenting decisions. Do you dress them alike or not? Can you curb the comparisons in hopes of reducing twin competition? And as they first make their way out into the world, should you advocate for your twins to be in the same kindergarten classroom? So it went for Isaac and Rebekah because Esau and Jacob aren’t just brothers; they are twins!

Oh how easily divisions can arise! Before birth they are jostling around in Rebekah’s womb. One kick here. Another punch there. Twins begin the fight with one another in the womb as they struggle to get the nutrients they need, not to mention enough space for themselves in those very tight quarters. Maybe Esau and Jacob are destined for days of division. After all, the LORD tells a bereft Rebekah that “Two nations are in your womb and two peoples born of you shall be divided. The one shall be stronger than the other; the elder shall serve the younger” (Gen. 25:23). Still, don’t you think that the prophecy grieved God to speak it as much as it grieved a mother to hear it of her own sons?

The history of two nations really is played out between Jacob, whose name will be changed by a midnight wrestler to Israel, and Esau, whose hairy red appearance is code in scripture for the Edomites that occupied the land southeast of Judah. The outcry of Psalm 137 shows us the bitterness between the nations founded upon these brothers: “Remember, O LORD, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem’s fall, how they said, ‘Tear it down! Tear it down! Down to its foundations!’” (Ps. 137:7). In other words, in exile the children of Jacob want the LORD their God to remember that the children of Esau, the Edomites, cheered Babylon on against the Israelites. After Babylon left, the Edomites (in the current territory of Jordan) supposedly raided the ransacked city of Jerusalem, kinda rubbing in exile even more. They come from twins and throughout their history, these two nations never could figure out a way to get along! Which might just leave us wondering if there’s any hope for those so different from one another. One peek at the nightly news shows us how difficult it is to remember that we ARE brothers – keepers of one another!

Maybe that’s why the rest of Jacob and Esau’s story is so important. Eventually, after living far from his homeland for having swindled his brother out of his birthright, Jacob comes back. A grown man, now of wealth and wives and children; fear of brotherly retaliation still lingers. In Genesis 32, Jacob’s all set to give his brother a whole bunch of stuff in hopes he and the four hundred men coming with Esau towards Jacob won’t kill him and his. In fear, he sends on flocks for his brother and hangs in the back for a little bit more protection, just in case it is with the sword that Esau comes out to greet him. After a restless night – cuz you know Jacob knew he’d get what he deserved if Esau still held a grudge – instead, in the light of day Esau runs in joy to meet his long-lost brother. Kinda like that prodigal story Jesus tells of the welcoming father who sprints out to meet his returning son; Esau opens wide his arms to his brother. And even though Jacob is going to fib him one more time, Esau shows nothing but goodwill unto Jacob. It’s such a grace-filled reunion that Jacob declares: “Truly to see your face is like seeing the face of God – since you have received me with such favor” (Gen. 33:10).

Even if the history of Jacob and Esau’s children isn’t going to turn out quite as grace-filled, it’s as if the relationship between these two brothers is hope enough that it can. That somewhere down the road brothers are going to figure out that we are each other’s keepers. In the face of one another it is to be like seeing the face of God. Like knowing the compassionate forgiveness we are to practice among one another. After all, we too are brothers – man and woman alike. Brothers in this one, great big world from whom God hopes for something better.

May we all have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts ready to heed how – with all others – we can be brothers.

In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.

© Copyright JMN – 2014 (All rights reserved.)

“Risk”

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This week I have risk on my mind. I’ve never been a big one for it. As a child, I was in awe of my older sister Joy. Mom would tell us things like: “Don’t climb on the rocks.” (We lived on the shoreline of Lake Michigan.) And: “Don’t go near that abandoned house.” My sister always would do it — no matter the risk. And she’d always have wonderful tales of it all to tell. Me? I was too afraid. I’m not really sure of what. Maybe that we’d get hurt. Or get in trouble. Or maybe I was just one of those born with that innate sense of not taking the risk of breaking the rules. My sister never seemed to be stopped by it all. Me? It seemed I didn’t have enough courage to take such risks.

My aversion to risk has remained. I realize some may look at my life and think: but you’ve traveled abroad numerous times in your young life and many of those times alone — everywhere from Jamaica to Pakistan to South Africa to Estonia to Honduras to the Holy Land. You’ve stepped out of the expected box of going to college near home. (I was one of two in my high school class to go to college out-of-state.) Though you didn’t know many girls doing it, you studied things like Hebrew and Greek while earning a Bachelors, Masters, and Doctorate degree. On your own, you’ve bought and sold a home — more than once. And you’ve settled in a part of the country no one you knew as a child EVER even dreamed of visiting. I guess one might say I’ve taken risk after risk after risk. Perhaps I was too young at the time to know I was doing it. Or maybe then it was easier to focus on what I was gaining without thought of anything being lost.

Just a few months ago when I left the perceived job security of an installed pastoral position in order to explore the perceived lack of job security in interim ministry, my Spiritual Director shared words with me that included this: “Awaken your spirit to adventure; hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk” (from “For a New Beginning,” by John O’Donohue in To Bless the Space Between Us). These seem like words to describe my sister — not me. Though, I’m pretty sure my spirit needs these words more than hers does! After all, I was the one a few years ago who undertook a daily practice of courage for Barbara Brown Taylor’s doctoral class called The Embodied Word. Every day for a month, I had to do at least one new thing or one thing I was afraid to do. My list included everything from seeing a sci-fi movie, to going through a drive through, to playing my violin in front of about 400 people. Out of that experience of practicing courage, grew a new ministry of taking children from one side of the tracks to be with children on the other — a Practice of Encounter to see how community might grow. I’m left to wonder: will I ever be the kind of person who has learned to find ease in risk?

O’Donohue’s words in “For a New Beginning” end with: “Soon you will be home in a new rhythm, For your soul senses the world that awaits you” (Ibid.). That’s the thing with risk: not risk of staying off the rocks along the shore of Lake Michigan or watching a movie genre you never before considered. But risk of allowing life to unfold as it will. We have no idea what tomorrow holds. We can’t know where the journey will take us or how it all will work its way out. We can awaken our souls to the adventure of it all. Let life bring the great gifts it will; hold on to the hand of dear family and friends as it brings challenges to hard to face alone. Something more awaits. Something yet unseen. Ahh. Can we relax into it and let it be? For, one step at a time, the only way for us to get there is to risk.

What about you? What’s your experience of risk?

And what do you think of O’Donohue’s words?

“For a New Beginning”
In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plentitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of a beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.
~ by John O’Donohue in To Bless the Space Between Us

6 July 2014 sermon — Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

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DISCLAIMER: I believe sermons are meant to be heard. They are the word proclaimed in a live exchange between God and the preacher, and the preacher and God, and the preacher and the people, and the people and the preacher, and the people and God, and God and the people. Typically set in the context of worship and always following the reading of scripture, sermons are about listening and speaking and hearing and heeding. At the risk of stepping outside such boundaries, I share sermons here — where the reader will have to wade through a manuscript that was created to be spoken word. Even if you don’t know the sound of my voice, let yourself hear as you read. Let your mind see as you hear. Let your life be opened to whatever response you begin to hear within you.
May the Spirit Speak to you!
RevJule
______________________

“Who’s Your Mirror?”

6 July – 4th Sunday after Pentecost

Click here to read scripture first:  Matthew 11:16-19 (NRS)

I’m so glad Jesus could recognize in his day one of the biggest traps in our own: expectations. “To what shall I compare this generation,” he’s recorded as saying (Mt. 11:16).  John the Baptist was an extremist among them, eating no food and taking no drink. And what happened? They rejected him because they expected something else. Here comes Jesus among them eating and drinking and enjoying life with those commonly cut off. And what happened? They reject him because they expected something else. That’s the problem with such social expectations. Even if we tried, no one can live up to them. Not even Jesus himself. He called that from the start.

I’m not trying to say we should throw them out entirely. Some expectations are good and helpful. It’s not a bad thing to expect each other to be kind and honest and forgiving. We Christians expect that of one another because we believe God expects it of us. Imagine life together in the church if we all held grudges against each other, and lied, and were as grouchy as could be stomping around here like we didn’t care one bit about each others’ toes. None of us want to be a part of that. Besides, the body of Christ is supposed to be a little bit more like Christ than that. The problem comes when we start living our lives according to the expectations of others. You know what I mean. It can feel as helpless as being chained to a solid brick wall with a hundred-ton train speeding right in our direction. When we look to fulfill all the expectations of others, aren’t we often left like an out-of-control spinning top? Do it one way, the critics never are happy. Try it the opposite, they don’t like that either. We’re left constantly wasting our energy on what others’ think. How they will react. Will they approve of us or not? Will we get their blessing if we try it their way or not? It’s absolutely exhausting!

Perhaps I should couch these thoughts in the reality of human development. We have to remember that it’s part of the natural journey of life that we look to the expectations of those outside of us. It’s the stage of life called puberty. The time when we start becoming more aware that we are being seen by others. Peers are so very important during our teen years because it is only through mirrors that we can see ourselves. In other words, during this stage of human development, we know ourselves through how others see us. We’re in the middle with all eyes on us and we’re looking back at them to see how they see us. If our goofy sophomoric pranks are accepted by the friends around us, we’ll keep at them. If the group around us isn’t impressed, we’re shamed into letting it go. We all experience this part of life. It’s just that we’re supposed to live through that. A healthy self, thanks to this stage of life, will grow into self-definition. Self-assurance, where what others think of us won’t drive how we live our lives as much as it once did because our true selves have emerged. Our internal authority, known in psychological circles as the executive ego, will become our guide.

About a year or so ago, I discovered fascinating, incredibly freeing research. It is the life work of a social worker named Brené Brown. She tells about it all in the books The Gifts of Imperfection and Daring Grately. And just in case you’re too busy to read because you’re stuck doing a thousand things expected by others, you could take a mere twenty minutes to listen to it all in her Ted talks at Ted.com/the power of vulnerability and listening to shame. As a PhD in Social Work, Brown spent ten years of her life interviewing thousands of people. She was at it not just to make some contribution to human well-being, but more so to find a way to live her own life free from the crushing demands of others’ expectations, which left her constantly striving to fit in – always feeling like she never was or did enough. What Brown discovered through her research is that shame runs rampant in our culture. So many are locked in it primarily because we do not believe ourselves worthy of love. It’s kinda like we’re listening to the wrong voice: looking in the wrong mirror. Brown also discovered something else; something called wholehearted living – which just so happens to be the basis for lives of courage, compassion, and connection. . . . I love Brown’s list of what she found in her research that rang true in her own life. And in the light of Jesus’s words in Matthew’s gospel, I’m pretty sure he’d make the same list. That those who believe themselves worthy of love and belonging – in other words, those who turn to God’s mercy instead of being trapped in the world’s expectations. Those folks live lives brimming with rest, play, trust, faith, intuition, hope, authenticity, love, joy, gratitude, and creativity. What a wonderful way to live! . . . Those stuck in shame, who doubt God’s mercy and keep on looking to others for their mirrors, have lives dripping with the drive for perfectionism, always needing to fit in, participating in behavior that numbs themselves, standing aloof in constant certainty, self-sufficiency, and harsh judgment of self and others. Living stuck in that sense of never enough, which we call scarcity (Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection, Hazelden, 2010, IBooks). . . . The difference in these two ways of life has to do with which direction we turn for our mirror: towards the world, or towards something else. When we stand securely on the truth that we are God’s – all of us. Precious. Valuable. Made in God’s image for connection and ones in whom God’s Spirit dwells. When we know ourselves and everyone else loved fully by God, things like perfectionism, self-sufficiency, and judgment of ourselves and others fall by the wayside. We stop looking to all the expectations of others to define and direct the living of our lives. When we stand secure that we are precious to God, we are free to live courageously – compassionate with ourselves and others, and truly able to connect with God, self, and everyone else.

I think that’s why Jesus says: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Mt. 11:28). Don’t listen to this generation that won’t accept whichever way you live. Look to me as your mirror – not everyone else. . . . The translation of scripture entitled The Message, puts Jesus’ words this way: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out . . . ? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly” (The Message, Eugene Peterson, Mt. 11:28-30). Isn’t that beautiful? Free from that heavy burden of looking to everyone else’s expectations about who we are and how we should live our lives. Come to me, he says, because we know very well he constantly ran up against others’ expectations of him. In fact, failing to meet others’ expectations pretty much was what got him killed. No matter. It’s a light yoke across our backs to allow him to be our mirror. To look into the face of one who looks back at us with such love. Such joy. Such pride. Seeing us as faithful disciples who might falter now and again, but who get back up and keep at it. I want that mirror, don’t you? The mirror of our Lord Jesus Christ showing us how to step out from the load of the world’s expectations into the unforced rhythms of such wonderful grace. Learning from him how to live freely and lightly. . . . That’s the promise he has for us: rest. Rest from the world’s crazy demands.

One of my favorite hymns from the new PCUSA Hymnal is inspired by this part of scripture. It’s set to a quiet, folksong-like tune, though I’m not going to try to sing it to you. The words are a beautiful invitation to new life for us all. They go like this: “’Come to me, O weary traveler; come to me with your distress; come to me, you heavy burdened; come to me and find your rest. Do not fear, my yoke is easy; do not fear, my burden’s light; do not fear the path before you; do not run from me in fright. Take my yoke and leave your troubles; take my yoke and come with me. Take my yoke, I am beside you; take and learn humility. Rest in me, O weary traveler; rest in me and do not fear. Rest me in, my heart is gentle; rest and cast away your care.’” (Glory to God: The Presbyterian Hymnal, “Come to Me, O Weary Traveler,” #183).

In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.

© Copyright JMN – 2014 (All rights reserved.)

29 June 2014 Sermon — Matt. 10:40-42

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DISCLAIMER: I believe sermons are meant to be heard. They are the word proclaimed in a live exchange between God and the preacher, and the preacher and God, and the preacher and the people, and the people and the preacher, and the people and God, and God and the people. Typically set in the context of worship and always following the reading of scripture, sermons are about listening and speaking and hearing and heeding. At the risk of stepping outside such boundaries, I share sermons here — where the reader will have to wade through a manuscript that was created to be spoken word. Even if you don’t know the sound of my voice, let yourself hear as you read. Let your mind see as you hear. Let your life be opened to whatever response you begin to hear within you.
May the Spirit Speak to you!
RevJule
______________________

“Who Do You Represent?”

29 June 2014 – 3rd Sunday after Pentecost

Click here to read the scripture first: Matthew 10:40-42 (NRS)

Have you ever had to hire a lawyer? I don’t mean because you got yourself in trouble, though that can be a good time to do so as well. I mean more like you couldn’t be present for the sale of your home. So you hired a lawyer to sign closing documents for you. You expected her to represent you well. Maybe you’ve been put in the tough spot of having to make end of life decisions for a parent or beloved spouse. As their medical power of attorney; for them, you sign the orders regarding palliative care. They trusted you to act in their name. Hopefully we’ve all voted for a State Representative we intended to send to Washington DC. I know cynicism runs high around such things; but when we cast our votes, we do so believing that person will make decisions for us which will positively impact life in our communities. We want them to decide for our benefit. Or maybe we’ve just gotten behind the efforts of the US Soccer Team this summer. Off to Brazil we’ve sent them. Even if we can’t kick a ball, they go in our stead to represent the sporting pride of our nation. Win or lose, we hope they give it their all for us all.

According to the gospel of Matthew, Jesus closes his charge of discipleship with an important reminder. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me” (Mt. 10:40). He might have well just given them a list of summer camp rules. If you’ve ever worked with the youth of the church, then you might know that this frequently is done. We send them off reminding them to be on their best behavior because not only are they representing themselves and their parents and our church; they represent Christ. In essence he says: “It’s me they see when they see you. So, holding your chin high, head out into the world in my name!”

I’m not sure we think about that enough. That it’s Christ we represent in our lives each day. Like the lawyer who signs for us or the team that plays in our name, those who have said yes to the vows of Christian baptism (and confirmation), no longer live for ourselves. Instead, we bear Christ’s name in the world. On days when we feel like it and days when we don’t, we represent Christ. Our words and our actions are speaking for him – every day of the week, every place that we go, not just Sunday mornings here. The question is: what message about Christ do we send?

Recently I read an interesting reflection by a pastor I know. I think she actually was quoting a tweet she read at our General Assembly in Detroit. The quote was: “If I hang out at your church, will I actually meet people who are like Jesus? Or will I just hear about him?” She went on to write: “Imagine walking into a church building and seeing people who remind you of Jesus. What would that look like?”  (achurchforstarvingartisits.wordpress.com/author/jledmiston, 18 June 2014).  It’s how it’s supposed to be. For each other and for the world, we represent Jesus. What do they see? Do they see in us the kind of compassion, kindness, peace, and care he exuded? Do they witness the clarity, generosity, and joy he was about? When in our presence, is it for others like being in the presence of one so centered in the Spirit of God that he always was ready and able to attune to the one in need before him. To offer the space for the other to become even better than they were before they met him. That’s how Jesus went about his life on this earth. And to those who have vowed to be his followers, he’s now given us that charge so that we know it’s not us that is welcomed along our journey of service in his name, but him: Christ.

If you’re familiar with Saint Benedict, then you might already know and practice this rule. It’s safe to say that Benedict is a giant in monasticism – at least for those covenanted communities that still live according to the rules he established in the Sixth Century. It’s not all things like poverty and servitude. For Benedict, life was to be a celebration. The balance between prayer and work and play; all of it, ways to encounter the Spirit of God living in, among, and beyond God’s marvelous creation. To this day, Benedictine orders have a porter. One author writes, “Quite simply, the porter is the one who opens the door to the monastery when someone knocks” (Journal for Preachers, Pentecost 2014; Martin Copenhaver, p. 22). I’ve experienced the classic warm welcome of Benedictines, but I never knew that such monasteries have a porter with the specific responsibility of sleeping “near the entrance to the monastery so he can hear and respond in a timely way when someone knocks. Then, as soon as anyone knocks . . . the porter is to reply: ‘Thanks be to God!’” (Ibid.). The author explains that: “before he even knows who is on the other side of the door. Before the porter knows who that person is or why he or she is there, he is to praise God for that person’s presence” (Ibid.). You see, it doesn’t really matter who’s on the other side of the door. The porter knows whoever it is, it will be Christ. And the porter knows that whoever it is, he himself represents Christ for them. Thanks be to God! Try muttering that the next time you hear your doorbell! The next time a guest shows up among us for worship, try practicing Thanks be to God – not because we might have a new member to add to our numbers as we suck them dry of their time, talents, and treasures. But thanks to be God! In the guest, we welcome Christ among us! And to the guest we represent Christ.

There’s a story of a little church that fell on hard times. You may have heard this one before. They were down to just four members, who were angry and anxious and not always all that nice. The leader was sent to seek guidance from a wiser one. The wise one told the leader: “I’m not really sure how to turn your little church around. All I know is that Christ is one of you.” The story goes that the message struck a chord in the hearts and minds of those four remaining members. Just in case it was true, they started treating each other better. Welcoming one another with the grace and excitement one might have in welcoming Christ. They went about their worship and their service together with a bit more care; just in case Christ really was one of them. They paid attention to every little detail of their space and their lives together; in the off chance that Christ really was one of them. Because, of course, they wanted to be and do their best for him. Over time, word spread. People stopped in to see if Christ really was there in that little church. They discovered such mutual respect, such genuine affection, such gracious attention that they started to stay. The four became fourteen, then forty, and then four hundred. All of them living with each other as if one of them was Christ.

We do represent Christ. And o for a world full of us! A world of us ready to welcome one another as speedily and as graciously as the Benedictine porter welcomes at the first knock. A world living as patiently and as attentively as four church members who believe one of them is Christ. . . . I know there will be days we do better at it than others. Days when we need a little reminder from one another – like some sort of signal to get us back on track when we slip: “Oops, Pastor Jule! You’re representing Christ to us right now!” Or “Oops, one another: take care for the message we’re sending. For we represent Christ even now to each other!” . . . No longer for ourselves alone, in all we do and say; we represent Christ. May that which is shown be “Thanks be to God” each day!

In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.

© Copyright JMN – 2014 (All rights reserved.)

What do you do?

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This week I saw a comic strip.  Two people were sitting at a table across from one another.  The first person said to the other:  “What do you do?”  The second person started to tell the first person their very important job title.  Person one then said:  “No.  I mean:  what do you do for the world?”

Great question:  what do you do for the world?

Job titles come and go.  Work responsibilities change.  How we go about making money in order to live most probably will be different today than it will be ten years from now.  What we do for the world is lasting.

The day I read the comic, I received a photo of a young Native American girl wearing a paper mask.  She made it at the Vacation Bible School being led by Presbyterians from Chicago on the Lake Traverse Reservation in South Dakota.  The masks were individual creations signifying that God loves each one of us as the beautiful, unique beings that we are!  What those Presbyterians were doing for the world was giving a little girl (320 little boys and girls, in fact) the sense that she matters and is loved immensely by the most wonderful One.

Though we all miss him terribly, my teenage nephew has taken to spending his summers as a counselor at Boy Scout Camp.  I know he has a ton of fun, but he’s also in service to the campers who attend.  He’s part of the team of leaders who are providing the time and space for campers to become better versions of themselves as they grow in confidence, teamwork, and skill.

I know teachers who don’t just teach to the test, but seek to build character.  Managers who do what they can to lighten the load for employees — not just for productivity sake but because they recognize when a person is going under.  People who commit to visiting seniors weekly — bringing not just meals, but joy to the day of an otherwise isolated person.

I’m not sure we always realize it; but in all these ways, and so many more, we do something so very significant for the world.

What about you?  What do you do

. . . for the world?

22 June 2014 Sermon-Matt. 10:24-39

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DISCLAIMER: I believe sermons are meant to be heard. They are the word proclaimed in a live exchange between God and the preacher, and the preacher and God, and the preacher and the people, and the people and the preacher, and the people and God, and God and the people. Typically set in the context of worship and always following the reading of scripture, sermons are about listening and speaking and hearing and heeding. At the risk of stepping outside such boundaries, I share sermons here — where the reader will have to wade through a manuscript that was created to be spoken word. Even if you don’t know the sound of my voice, let yourself hear as you read. Let your mind see as you hear. Let your life be opened to whatever response you begin to hear within you.
May the Spirit Speak to you!
RevJule
______________________

“Division”

22 June 2014 – 2nd Sunday after Pentecost

Matthew 10:24-39

Click here to read the scripture first: Matthew 10:24-39 (NRS)

Anyone having a warm-fuzzy view of Jesus, who thinks he’s all about loving our families and being seekers of peace in this world; probably doesn’t like this part of the gospel of Matthew. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth,” he’s quoted as saying. “Man against his father, and a daughter against her mother . . . one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.” And “whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me” (Mt. 10:34, 36, 37). Tough words that don’t necessarily match up with things elsewhere in scripture that he’s recorded as saying, let alone the Jesus so many of us love as our confidant and friend.

I’ve only ever met one person in the world who actually loves this text. I don’t remember his name. But I vividly remember his story. I met him one night in Pakistan. It was the days before most Americans even knew where Pakistan was, let alone what life was like there. It was the summer of 1993 and I had been chosen by a Presbyterian Missionary Conference to be in service for 8 weeks with 4 other college young adults. When I got the acceptance letter with the news of where we were heading, the first thing I did was found a map to look up where in the world Pakistan was. The next thing I did was call my parents to tell them the news. And while it wasn’t the first time they heard me tell them of plans to travel oversees for some sort of mission; they were not at all thrilled. Because: Pakistan?!! That’s like a whole world away! . . . Over the course of the next few weeks, we were sent various articles about Islam and the ways of this Muslim country. I learned that religions other than Islam legally were tolerated. But of course toleration and full acceptance are two very different things. I learned that out in public, I would need to keep my arms and legs covered at all times – and be ready to cover my head too depending upon where we were. I learned that I would need to know the proper greeting for most Islamic countries: “As-salamu alaykum,” I would hear. To which we were to respond: “Wa alaykumu al-salem.” Loosely translated it was: Peace be upon you; and unto you peace.

Based out of the busy city of LaHore, I spent my summer meeting various Christians of the country. My charge was to listen to the work they were doing at such places like the YWCA, the Christian Blind Society, a Christian Broadcasting Network, and a self-development training center for women. At the time, I think the Christian population of Pakistan was somewhere like 1% — in other words, being a disciple of Christ then and there was not a very popular pursuit. Nor were Christians across the country very well connected with each other. My work that summer was to learn how Christians were serving those in need in order to compile a resource that pastors and other church leaders could use in connecting those able to serve with places they could do it, and those needing to be served with ministries that could handle their requests.

Somehow, one Sunday night, our group met a man. I remember him rushing in to the home where we had gathered. In Urdu he said some words to the American mission co-workers who were with us. Then we all took seats in the living room. It was almost like we were having a little house meeting as the earliest Christians would – meeting for prayer and fellowship at the close of the day. Mike, one of the American mission co-workers, stood next to the gentleman who looked kinda tentative but eager to speak. Over the course of the next half-hour, the man told us (with Mike translating for us) that he was a follower of Christ. He told us how he had come to hear of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. He told us how he had learned of this one who spurred on the Christians of Pakistan to treat others with kindness and mercy and the human dignity they deserved no matter their religious affiliation. He told us of how he and his fellow Christians came together to rely upon one another and to serve those forgotten by the rest of society. How they were willing to take risks and even go against the ways of their elders if they must because of the love, forgiveness, and hope they had come to know through Jesus Christ. At long last, Mike broke in to tell us details the man wasn’t sharing. Details of his life that we really needed to understand. This man was the son of a prominent Muslim Imam. His uncle and his father both followed in the footsteps of their father to be important leaders of local mosques. He was to as well. Instead, when this man decided as a young adult to follow the ways of Christ, his biological family disowned him. He was like a stranger to them. In his context, he knew that becoming a disciple of Christ would set him at odds with those he loved most. There was something about these words of the gospel of Matthew that became a great comfort to him.

Now, before we jump to any false conclusions about how terribly divisive Islam is, we can remember that Christians too have experienced this kind of rejection by their own Christian families. It still happens today – you know it. One follower of Christ doesn’t agree with another’s understanding of it all. One disciple seeks to be true to who they’ve come to know in God through the good news of Christ, and the others are of a different ilk. Before you know it, folks are being holier than thou at the family reunion – if they’re still talking at all. It happened quite a bit for the first followers of the way. For many of them, their families were Jewish who kept to the ways of Judaism, even if one called Jesus of Nazareth claimed to be the long-awaited Messiah. As the movement spread, it was Greeks and Romans, who had notions of other gods. Before Christianity became the religion of the Roman Empire in the Fourth Century, it took a whole lot of courage to go home to tell your parents that you were going to start living in the manner of Christ. . . . Doing that, you too might find yourself ostracized by your loved ones – or worse. In fact, it was another man in Pakistan who first taught me a great wisdom about such religious exclusionism. He was one of the most peaceful, serene, Christ-like persons I ever have met. He was Muslim and worked alongside me each day at the office of one of the Presbyterian missionaries. Everything about him embodied Christ for me: his gentleness, his generosity, his joy. He went out of his way to tell me more about Islam and the way it grounded him in being a person of peace in this world – a seeker too of justice. Something about him made me begin to wonder if, though we were walking different paths to God, was it all really the same Way, the Way I know as Christ? He’s one of the first persons to tell me that extremists exist in any religion, which can give us all a bad name. He firmly believed that when our religious practices fail to embrace and embody the highest principles of the Love to which they’re supposed to point us; then something has gone awry. Anyway, that’s the wisdom my Muslim co-worker taught me that summer.

The thing is that following in the footsteps of one who heals the sick, befriends the outcast, and casts out that which leads from life; following in the footsteps of that Teacher very well can lead to some very strong reactions. One commentator helpfully reminds that “if Jesus were really the . . . nice guy we often insist on imagining, should he not have been able to stay out of trouble? . . . Kingdom work, it turns out, is more controversial and subversive than conventional kindness. If the teacher gives offense (as Jesus did to those of his day), how much more the student?” (Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 3, Lance Pape, p. 167).

It’s the reality with which we have to wrestle. I’m not saying we have to get out there to intentionally bring division. Rather, the message of Jesus in this part of Matthew’s gospel is that we very well may. In the words of that same commentator, “true discipleship is the art of seeking the kingdom with single-minded determination and letting the chips fall where they may.” According to that commentator, “The church that always manages to glide through life without ever rubbing anyone the wrong way may have reason to question whether it is truly this Jesus it honors as master and Lord” (Ibid.).

This Jesus, of Matthew’s gospel, is summoning twelve of his followers and giving them authority to go out doing the same things he is: proclaiming good news to those of their own nation who are being preyed upon by a religious system that had become entrenched with those seeking gain for themselves on the backs of others; those perverting God’s good news in fear of the oppressor; those turning their heads from the suffering of their brothers and sisters. This Jesus is coming as a balm to those who have lost hope in the confines of illness and death and social exclusion and forces beyond themselves. This Jesus is telling his followers to be learners and doers of his way – knowing that some are going to scoff. Some are going to say no way. Some are going to cut you off because they won’t accept such a God. That’s literally what was going on for the community to which Matthew first wrote, so that they needed to hear the good news that “even the hairs of your head are counted by our loving God. Do not be afraid; for you are valued as precious by God. We will be held through it all” (paraphrase of Matthew 10:29-31). This Jesus is telling those who would follow after him that the way will not always be easy. We might find ourselves locked out of one family – though thanks be to God another family is ready to welcome us in. It’s the road we must walk, come what may, if we want to be called worthy by our Lord. If we want to know the joy of full-acceptance by our God. In the end, it’s the way of losing ourselves, as the Jesus of Matthew’s gospel here says, in order to find true Life. . . . Despite the cost, no matter our fear; may our days be blessed as we follow in the footsteps of our Savior and Lord!

In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.

© Copyright JMN – 2014 (All rights reserved.)

Trinity Sunday Sermon — Matt. 28:16-20

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DISCLAIMER: I believe sermons are meant to be heard. They are the word proclaimed in a live exchange between God and the preacher, and the preacher and God, and the preacher and the people, and the people and the preacher, and the people and God, and God and the people. Typically set in the context of worship and always following the reading of scripture, sermons are about listening and speaking and hearing and heeding. At the risk of stepping outside such boundaries, I share sermons here — where the reader will have to wade through a manuscript that was created to be spoken word. Even if you don’t know the sound of my voice, let yourself hear as you read. Let your mind see as you hear. Let your life be opened to whatever response you begin to hear within you.
May the Spirit Speak to you!
RevJule

________________________

15 June 2014 – Trinity Sunday

Matthew 28:16-20

Click here to read the scripture first:  Matthew 28:16-20 (NRS)

Seventeen hundred years ago, the church was fighting about the Trinity. It can be a confusing concept which we have great difficulty wrapping our minds around. It is, after all, a mystery. Though this gospel reading of Matthew makes reference to baptizing in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; it doesn’t explain the relationship between these three. Nor does it seem to worry about delicately holding the tension of the three-yet-Oneness of God. To make matters worse, the Trinity’s not clearly explained anywhere in scripture. In fact, the word Trinity never is used. The gospel of John’s farewell discourse of Jesus (chapters 14-17) might be the closest attempt to talk about this God that is in us even as we’re in God, and Jesus is in God, and Jesus is in us, and another Advocate, the Holy Spirit, will be among us forever. But that whole section can be more trouble than help. We do have the second letter to the Christians in Corinth which closes with the message: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you” (2 Cor. 13:13); though the benediction isn’t really explaining Trinity as much as it is naming for the first followers of Christ’s Way the experience of the grace, love, and companionship of God – the various aspects of God that can be real in our lives. And just as Christianity began to gain some ground in the Roman Empire of the early Fourth Century, the church started fighting about the Trinity.

It’s called the Arian controversy. A man named Arius and a man named Athanasius led the way. They stood at polar opposites about the nature and power of God. Arius (wrongly) was convinced that the Son and the Father were not co-eternal. “’There was when he was not,’” Arius said – referring to an independent God (the Father) creating Jesus (the Son) right alongside everything else in creation – something we Christians do not believe. For Arius, “God was an utterly unique, self-contained, and self-sufficient reality” (Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol 3; Stephen B. Boyd, p. 46). . . . Fathers’ Day seems a good time to remember that the church did not accept this notion of God. For how long has our culture, especially tried to tell the males of it, that they too are individual? Self- contained. Sufficient all on their own. Arius was terrified of any sense of vulnerability in God. For him an eternal partnership with the Son, not to mention the Holy Spirit; implied weakness in the deity. You know, one that could be affected by another; changed by another; to Arius that was weak. Unacceptable in any sense of God – which tells us that Arius may not have been reading the scriptures very much because it’s all over the stories. This amazing Deity who chooses to come to us in such a vulnerable way. This God who feels and weeps, and deeply is affected by the faithfulness and waywardness of God’s creation. . . . I know a mindset still lingers in our society: that to be a man is to be like this invincible, independent, hover-a-little-bit-above-it-all kind of god.

Fortunately, scripture gives witness to something else, so the church decided to follow Athanasius. As one commentator explains: “Athanasius believed that the incarnation of God in Christ revealed a different kind of God and a different kind of divine power. Rather than an isolated monad, God from eternity is relational; between the Father and the Son, for example, there was, is, and always will be mutual self-giving. . . . a ‘unity of love, a unity in which the identity of each party is not swallowed up and annihilated, but established” (Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol 3; Stephen B. Boyd, p. 46, 48). It’s a mutuality. A shared being. An inter-dependence where three co-exist in beautiful harmony with one another – like a perfect musical chord. One’s not more important than the other; they’re all necessary. Distinct, yet equal. One never without the others. It’s often called the peri-choresis of God: the dancing around in great delight. A circular image of God where the God beyond, among, and in us exists in this joyous right-relationship. Almost like a synergy or living sphere of powerful energy. A God who is plural, yet one. . . . It’s a much better message for the men and women of our culture – a helpful, healthy way to be reflected in our own relationships at home, in our congregation, and beyond in all the world! . . . I love how one preacher put it by saying that: “God does not exist in solitary individualism but in a community of love and sharing. God is not a loner. This means that a Christian in search of godliness (Matthew 5:48) must shun every tendency to isolationism. The ideal Christian spirituality is not that of flight from the world like that of certain . . . traditions where the quest for holiness means permanent withdrawal . . . away from contact and involvement with people and society” (http://www.munachi.com/z/trinity.htm). It means getting in there. Living rightly alongside one another, even as we tenderly tread upon this earth.

In officer training this week, one of our officers-elect explained it beautifully. A person can be daughter and a sister and a wife and a mother and a grandmother. And in all those ways how she is in each of those roles is influenced by the other; but she’s still one woman – and so much more even than just those roles. Boys too: sons, brothers, husbands, fathers, and grandfathers – all impacting how you are in each one of those, but more than each one too. I like that. Especially because it gets at the heart of why the Trinity matters: because in the image of God we are made. Not a power unto ourselves to do whatever we want with one another and the rest of creation. But a relationship – a mutuality. In other words, though we may have been reared in the great Western independent philosophy of “I think therefore I am;” the African inter-dependent notion of Ubuntu would have been a more Christian way to have been reared: that I am because we are. As South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu so often proclaims: our human-ness is bound up together. In many ways, Trinity captures not just the truth of God, but also the truth of us. We never are one all on our own. Each one of us always is in relationship with God and the rest of creation, even as we are with our own self. In other words, three: a self, God, the rest of the world. We too are thoroughly relational no matter how much some of us might try to fight it. We may not be able to explain it all; but we certainly experience it.

I’ve been reading about something called the Law of Three. I admit I don’t fully understand yet all of what this contemporary Christian mystic is trying to say, other than that there is a metaphysical Law of Three. Our world isn’t just binary opposites like yin and yang, male and female, dark and light. Rather it takes three to make anything happen: like a seed in the fertile soil. Without the third element of the sunlight, that seed never will sprout to grow. (Cynthia Bourgeault, The Holy Trinity and the Law of Three, p. 40). About the Trinity, this mystic writes: “A solitary God could not be ‘love without limits.’ . . . The Three-in-One denotes the perfection of Unity . . . fulfilling itself in communion and becoming the source and foundation of all communion” (Ibid., pp. 43-44).

Returning to the gospel of Matthew, that might be why the Risen Christ commands his disciples to go baptize in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Because first of all, it’s going to take something outside of us to get us out there. A force; a power; a Spirit beyond us to motivate us to go forth into all the world with the good news. Second, thanks be to God, we have a most beautiful example of how to do this: Jesus himself, God-with-us, or the God among us, divine yet seeking to live a flawless human life. He held in perfect harmony those right relationships between God, self, and all creation. And third, thanks be to God, we have something within us: the Spirit of God burning like a fire within to give witness to the love, and hope, and forgiving grace of God. In our baptisms, we’re marked with the sign of the Triune God – the God beyond, among, and within us – we’re marked by them all in baptismal waters that we might live in God’s likeness as we delight in such beautiful balance with God, self, and the rest of creation.

As we go forth into the world, that’s the good news our lives are to reflect! That we do not go it alone. Trinity matters because our God is beyond, but among, and in us too! And like God, we work best in threes: me, you, God with us. As the wisdom writer wrote: “a three-fold chord is not quickly broken” (Eccles. 4:12b). Together we can fulfill the Risen Christ’s command – or at least begin to try. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; we go forth to give witness to our mysterious, Three-in-One God.

Alleluia and Amen!

© Copyright JMN – 2014 (All rights reserved.)

Changes

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Yesterday the church of my childhood left the denomination, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).  It had been a long time coming.  For years they have struggled with others in their Presbytery (the collective body of Presbyterians in their region).  In fact, I experienced that firsthand when my own process to ordination became a bit of a battleground between them and the Presbytery.  It was a messy, challenging time in the course of my journey.  I see now that it was painful for us all — each one of us trying to be faithful to who we believe God to be. 

Even though it has been nearly twenty-five years since I have been directly connected with the church of my childhood, something about yesterday grieves me deeply.  Like a long-awaited divorce in which the papers finally are settled. It’s not necessarily easier no matter how long it takes or how long it’s been since you all last talked.  I keep coming back to this odd sensation that somewhere along the way we all have grown into someone other than who we once were.  I believe that my own life and worldview have gotten bigger.  I’ve never considered myself a courageous person; yet I can see how from that starting point, my own journey has unfolded as one of openness, acceptance, and trust that we all are held in the messiness of it all.  Even if we no longer understand God, ourselves, or the world in the same ways; I am grateful for how I was blessed from the ministry of that congregation.

As we formally part ways, I need to say thank you.  I am because of who they all are — or have been.  I remember Mrs. Bacchaus.  Every week in the church basement, she taught us with the felt board and the rolling dividers.  I remember Ms. Dottie who had such a joy about singing. She introduced us to all sorts of songs that kept me throughout my youth.  I remember Pastor Paul who baptized me when I was an infant and retired from that post when I turned 18.  I loved him best because in a world where children pretty much were to be seen and not heard, Pastor Paul held a special place for us.  He treated us youngsters like we mattered. In doing so, he gave me the experience of a God who is love. 

And I am most grateful for the night when I was about 20 years old when I discovered “A Brief Statement of Faith” in our Book of Confessions.  I was about ready to be done with church and all the God stuff as it seemed it always was just a fight about who was bound for hell or not. What I really needed was a God and a faith community that would be with me NOW in how I would live out discipleship each day here on this marvelous earth.  That night I read:  “In life and in death we belong to God.  Through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit, we trust in the one triune God, the Holy One of Israel, whom alone we worship and serve.” The faith statement went on to profess a living God who in Jesus the Christ acted for the sake of any in need — even children; an Abba, creating God, who in sovereign love made the world and all of us good; a Holy Spirit that still is at work in and among us to bind us together with one another for the sake of all the world. And then words that have become a great comfort; especially as I have said them at the bedside of the dying, in the presence of the mourning, and in worship among those who might just be going through the motions for the week: “With believers in every time and place, we rejoice that nothing in life or in death can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (PCUSA Book of Confessions, “A Brief Statement of Faith”). I don’t know how I first got my hands on “A Brief Statement,” nor do I remember all the details at that time in my life with the church of my childhood; but I do know that upon reading that statement, I finally knew what it meant to be a part of the Reformed Theological Family of Faith and in particular the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). I finally knew that I was home.

I’ll never agree with everything we are and do; and I’m grateful that I exist in a family of faith where that is to be expected, in part so we can practice grace among one another. I grieve that the church of my childhood no longer believes it can be a part of such a family and I hope they find a communion where they can grow in the grace God. As for me: all I know is that here among fellow faithful followers — ones who wrestle with God, one another, and our place in this world; HERE I am home. And come what may, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Thanks be to God!

RevJule

To learn more about the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) go to http://www.pcusa.org or visit a PCUSA congregation in your area.

Pentecost Sunday Sermon – Acts 2:1-21

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DISCLAIMER: I believe sermons are meant to be heard. They are the word proclaimed in a live exchange between God and the preacher, and the preacher and God, and the preacher and the people, and the people and the preacher, and the people and God, and God and the people. Typically set in the context of worship and always following the reading of scripture, sermons are about listening and speaking and hearing and heeding. At the risk of stepping outside such boundaries, I share sermons here — where the reader will have to wade through a manuscript that was created to be spoken word. Even if you don’t know the sound of my voice, let yourself hear as you read. Let your mind see as you hear. Let your life be opened to whatever response you begin to hear within you.
May the Spirit Speak to you!
RevJule
______________________

8 June 2014 – Pentecost Sunday
Acts 2:1-21
Click here to read the scripture first: Acts 2:1-21 (NRS)

Exciting things are going on in the church of Jesus Christ. And I’m not just talking about the excitement I see in you men who are rolling up your sleeves to take care of our building; and those of you helping the people in need who come to us each week; and those of you who are eager to experience some other forms of worship in a few upcoming Field Trips we’re working on organizing during this transitional time in the life of this church; or those of you asking for a book study in people’s homes that we hope to launch in a few weeks! All of which are really exciting things among us! . . . I realize we can get so caught up in worry about declining numbers and church dogma fights and budget crunches. But lots of evidence points to a vibrant future for the Christian faith. While it’s true, as one author has said, that in the USA, the first decade of the 21st Century has been the “Great Religious Recession.” It’s equally true, according to that same author, that we’re living in the era of an emergence of “a spiritual awakening, a period of sustained religious and political transformation during which our ways of seeing the world, understanding ourselves, and expressing faith are being ‘born again’” (Cheryl Jones quoting Diana Butler Bass in Journal for Preachers, Pentecost 2013, p. 3). It’s exciting! It’s a great, even if challenging, time to be alive! . . . Supposedly we’re in the midst of “moving from being a religion about God, to being an experience of God” (Cheryl Jones, Journal for Preachers, Pentecost 2013, p. 4). From the what of faith to the how of faith. From what’s been called an Age of Belief to an Age of the Spirit.

It’s very good news for the church of Jesus Christ because more than ever in the history of this nation, spiritual experience is what people want. The research all points to a rise in those not affiliated with any church; yet craving connection with God. Unlike Americans of the past who weren’t a part of any religious body; when those of the past turned away from the church, they turned away from God all together. Atheists and agnostics used to abound. The what of belief was their crisis – and, in response, the what of belief was the church’s key witness. . . . But today we’re told those who won’t be a part of a church still seek some sort of experience of the Divine. They want wonder. They want awe. They want a glimpse into the mysterious. They want the rituals and practices that will bring them into deep connection with that which is beyond themselves. In other words, they want the how of faith. They just don’t think they can find that among us, the church. We, who religious non-affiliates of today seem to believe, spend more time propping up and preserving an institution than seeking to live the how of faith – than being in true connection with the living God.

And more than any other day of the liturgical calendar, today is a great day to celebrate the craving for the spiritual over empty religion. Today is Pentecost – the feast of God connecting with God’s people. Pentecost: the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. That uncontrollable force like the rush of a mighty wind. Something, we’re not sure what, but as best as it’s been able to be described, something like flashes of fire. Little flickering flames alighting around each believer present. As far as we know, 120 gathered together in Jerusalem on that day. Jesus had instructed them to wait together for the coming of the Holy Spirit. They were being given such a lofty commission: to go – be witnesses of the good news of God’s unmerited, redeeming love, shown fully to us in Christ Jesus. They were being sent to speak in the ancient halls of religious power in Jerusalem. To the first ring of those living a bit further out than that, and all the way beyond to lands they had no idea even existed. To places like Hermitage, Tennessee – which surely had to be the ends of the earth according to their world view. Those first followers of the Risen Christ were going to need more than their own abilities for such a commission. They were going to need POWER: the power of the Holy Spirit – God’s very self living in and among them. To keep them courageous and open and going when all the evidence in front of their eyes said: stop.

They, and most of the rest of the Jewish world, had gathered in Jerusalem for the Feast of Weeks, Shavuot, “the third of the three great festivals of Judaism. . . . Shavuot was a joyful festival, in which the first fruits of the harvest would have been given to God” (Margaret P. Aymer, Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3, p. 15). It was the celebration of God’s giving of the Law to Moses and their ancestors. It was a significant commemoration of God’s covenant with them – the giving of the Torah, which would make Hebrew slaves into a covenant community for God. . . . And at that moment – as those excited about the Risen Christ were together for Shavuot – like an avalanche that cannot be stopped, the Holy Spirit came! . . .

It’s curious that images like wind and fire are recorded about that day. . . . A few months ago I saw a map of the United States that had Home of the Hurricane written across the Southeast, Tornado Alley written across the Midwest; and Wildfire Way written across the West. It was a spoof about the current state of our weather; but it makes a point: wind and fire are powerful forces. Two of the main elements of our earth that no matter what we do really cannot be controlled. In fact, they can be the source of such immense destruction. . . . Which leaves me wondering how many of us don’t have something within us individually – and collectively as a congregation – that needs some blowing out; some burning off in order to make us what is needed for God? Some of us harbor old understandings of ourselves and others that need to be cleared away. Some of us cling to hang-ups about our personal abilities – or maybe our collective abilities too. Some of us let life-long fears or worries steal our chance at living fully alive here and now. We need something like wind and fire to blow all that away; burn all that out of us kinda like John the Baptist said long ago. In the gospel of Matthew he was recorded as speaking of the fire that will be used to burn out of us everything that is not life-giving: the chaff. The part of the wheat that is inedible by humans. Wind separates the grain and the chaff in winnowing when it’s tossed up so that the chaff is blown aside and the grain falls to the threshing floor (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaff). Remember those words often lifted up in Advent: “His winnowing fork is in hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary” – that’s the good stuff in us that does feed others. “But the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire” – the parts in us that are no good for God’s life-giving mission in the world, it’s like they are burned out of us with fire. Might that be part of the work of the Holy Spirit? To destroy in us what keeps us from the mission of God. Of course we know that wind and fire aren’t just destructive. They also can be powerful, uncontrollable sources that make amazing things happen. Think of full sails that can carry a ship far across the ocean. Think of the flames that can fire up an engine to move a massive train from one end of our country to the next. Wind and fire are powerful forces in this world that can put into motion magnificent things! That, we’re told, is what the Holy Spirit of God is like.

A few years back, I started getting really serious about the Holy Spirit – I realize not many Presbyterian preachers may make such a statement. But I just had finished teaching a year-long confirmation class with senior highs who said at the close of the year that they had no idea what the Holy Spirit was about. It was a wake-up call to me as their pastor and to that congregation as a church that whatever it was: our own lack of understanding, or emphasis, or fear, or something was hindering the spiritual life of our young people. I started doing some reading – the natural thing we Presbyterians do when we are confused about God. As an object, we study it. Soon my spiritual director was encouraging me to put down the books and just listen. Be quiet. Wait. Because God is not an object to be poked and prodded; God is a living subject in, among, and beyond us. I asked church members to join me as we did some contemplative prayer together; we practiced a few other kinds of prayer too that would attune us better to God. We even started singing songs about the Spirit from the hymnal. Somehow or another, the next time confirmation class rolled around, I was astounded to hear that class of confirmands heartily include the Holy Spirit in their personal statements of faith – they articulated not just what they believed about the Holy Spirit but how they experienced it. I kept the words they wrote about the Holy Spirit because I was moved so deeply by them. That group of young persons spoke about the Holy Spirit as: “The breath of God . . . everywhere . . . powerful . . . always with us.” One of them wrote: “You can’t see it, but it’s with us everywhere we go. . . . The Holy Spirit is like the air we breathe, because you need it to survive, and it keeps us going.” Another wrote: “I believe the Holy Spirit is kind of like the wind. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. That’s how (God’s) always with us – through hardships, (and through the) happy moments in our lives.” The quietest boy in the class wrote: “I believe in the Holy Spirit that is always with me, even though I can’t see it; I can feel it. I believe the Holy Spirit is the glue that keeps us believing and doing good deeds. (The Holy Spirit keeps) my faith in God when there is chaos around me.” And finally one professed that the Holy Spirit “is everywhere we go. It lives inside of us. It comes from God” (Quotes from 2012-13 COTC Confirmands).

Everywhere. Mysterious, in that we can’t really see it – but we can experience it. We can use metaphors like breath of God, air, wind, the glue of our lives that keeps us believing. The ever-present God that lives inside of us. A gift that comes from God. It’s still the power that sends us out into the world – bound together to one another to carry out the very same charge given so long ago to the first followers of the Risen Christ. The Holy Spirit is the church’s experience of God living in us every day to be the church – the presence of Christ’s very body wherever we go on this earth.

And the Holy Spirit is how we know an exciting future lies ahead for Christ’s church – if we’re willing to remain open to God’s living presence among us. For the Holy Spirit is God’s power in and among us to refresh and revive and re-create. The Guide that sends us out to live our faith – not just keep certain beliefs in our brain each day, but to enact the kind of behavior that shows God alive in us. . . . The Holy Spirit – the fire of God burning in us; the breath of God living in us – is our hope. . . .

In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.

© Copyright JMN – 2014 (All rights reserved.)