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Thirst

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A Sermon for 19 March 2017 – Third Sunday during Lent

A reading from the gospel of John 4:1-42.  Listen for God’s word to us.

     “Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, “Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John” 2 —although it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who baptized— 3 he left Judea and started back to Galilee.  4 But he had to go through Samaria.  5 So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph.  6 Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well.  It was about noon.  7 A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” 8 (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.)  9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”  (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.)  10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”  11 The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep.  Where do you get that living water?  12 Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?”  13 Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, 14 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.”  15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”  16 Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” 17 The woman answered him, “I have no husband.”  Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; 18 for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband.  What you have said is true!”  19 The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet.  20 Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.”  21 Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem.  22 You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews.  23 But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.  24 God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.”  25 The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ).  “When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.”  26 Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”  27 Just then his disciples came.  They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you want?” or, “Why are you speaking with her?”  28 Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city.  She said to the people, 29 “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!  He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”  30 They left the city and were on their way to him.  31 Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, “Rabbi, eat something.”  32 But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about.”  33 So the disciples said to one another, “Surely no one has brought him something to eat?”  34 Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work.  35 Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’?  But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting.  36 The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together.  37 For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’  38 I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor.  Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”  39 Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I have ever done.”  40 So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days.  41 And many more believed because of his word.  42 They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.””
This is the word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God!
      Monday in Kansas City, the NEXT Church national conference began.  You’d think with a name like NEXT Church, this would be a conference put on by flashy young clergymen from one of those non-denominational, mega, pop-up churches.  But, believe it or not, NEXT Church is a network of church members, youth leaders, educators, pastors, professors, seminarians, and ruling elders of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).  This national network of Presbyterians believes “the church of the future will be more relational, more diverse, more collaborative, more hopeful, and more agile” (www.nextchurch.net/about-next/).  Their website includes relevant resources, an opportunity to be a part of a monthly web-based roundtable, and story after story of churches telling the ways they are re-imagining treasured ministries.  There’s even a submission from a SMALL church of this Presbytery that created a 20-minute Ash Wednesday pod-cast to reach 1,000 listeners – something they did in addition to a drive-through line in their parking lot for commuters to receive the imposition of ashes on their way to work.  Sounds pretty cool to me!  . . .  In addition to having a website filled with such creative options, NEXT Church also hosts an annual conference.  This year, some 220 first-time attenders joined another 300 or so folks for a week of honest, inspiring conversation around the theme Wells and Walls:  Well-Being in a Thirsty World.  They spent all week around the gospel of John’s story of Jesus, tired out from his journey, breaking down walls as he sought out a local well.
     It may be shocking to hear, as the gospel details early in this story, that even Jesus was thirsty along his journey.  Jesus seems to indicate that it’s four months before the harvest, so likely that puts them in the heat of summer, at noon, mid-way through the five-day trek of the 100 miles from Judea where Jerusalem is, back to his home district of Galilee, where Jesus undertook the majority of his ministry.  Intentionally he takes the short cut.  Maybe because he’s exhausted from the journey.  More likely because he’s not afraid of the long-standing walls between people.  Though the Samaritans may not be included in his people’s definition of one of us; the gospel of John tells the story as if he had a messianic need to go through Samaria.  He may be tired out from his journey so that he sits at a well – likely hoping to quench his body’s thirst.  But within, he also has another thirst.  He has a thirst – a craving inside to encounter those of this world who thirst.  This is the gospel, remember, that one chapter prior tells of Jesus encountering at night the Pharisee Nicodemus.  According to the gospel of John, the last time we hear of Jesus in conversation with another; he tells that treasured truth:  why God sent him into the world.  Out of love, we hear on the lips of Jesus in John 3:16, the Word was enfleshed; not to condemn but that no last one would perish.  The thirst that drives our Christ is to fulfill this mission of God’s.  To complete this work, Jesus explains to his disciples after they return and find him talking with a woman, of Samaria, who has been passed from husband to husband.  She happens to be the one who walked up in this foreign land through which Jesus decided to travel.  So she becomes his first Samaritan disciple who runs off to tell everyone else about the One she encountered at noon at the well.
     It’s hard to tell when we’re thirsty, isn’t it?  I listened to a friend this week who is worried she could end up hospitalized from de-hydration, as she was two years ago, because she can’t seem to remember to stop throughout the day to take in the water she needs.  Due to a recent flood in her area, it doesn’t taste quite as good as it used to, but it’s still right there – with her in her computer case as she travels from place to place going about her daily work.  According to Water.org, an international nonprofit organization that has been working for 25 years to address the global water crisis; 663 million people worldwide lack access to safe water.  That’s one in 10 people on this planet, or twice the population of the United States, without safe drinking water.  That’s a lot of thirsty, prone to disease and death people who literally need water to drink.  . . .  I could tell you stats about how many today describe themselves as spiritually thirsty but not turning to the church for connection with the Divine.  A growing number of spiritually curious people in the United States do not see evidence that church-goers’ lives look any different than their own unchurched life.  But we don’t need the stats to know how deep the thirst.  We know the stories.  Grown children who may still consider themselves Christian but do not participate in a local church; it seems irrelevant.  Siblings who don’t make it a practice to be in worship anywhere – if they ever did.  Neighbors who most likely spend Sunday mornings lounging and catching up as a family rather than racing over here – or to any of the other ga-zillion Nashville church options.  Even those who want to be here, but no longer can be due to illness or mobility or physical capacity.  Everywhere we look today, we see thirst.  We, who come here week after week, also thirst.  . . .  What’s going to quench those parched places in us and in others?
     The gospel of John presents One who stays with the woman.  Locked in what seems like a heady-battle, she questions and queries as one determined to protect her heart.  With every response, Jesus just takes her deeper; deeper to the scorched places within.  He meets her where she is and won’t allow any rules set up between them to get in his way.  He is thirsty for her not to perish, which in the gospel of John has to do with a state of living right now, today.  The eternal life that is God’s will is not just about eons to pass.  Eternal life has a flavor that better matches our understanding of abundance – a state of being now that our Creator wants for us all.  It’s the difference between a stinky, still pond of water and a fresh, gushing spring coming right up from the ground.  Or the difference in a defensive woman at a well and a filled-with-vigor witness who drops her jar to sprint back to the village to tell news too good to be kept inside.  It’s one filled with a joy-ful spirit who finally knows herself accepted in the eyes of the Divine, cherished as one welcomed into the fold.  Standing in the presence of the One whose love will wash over her every morning like waves refreshing a tattered soul.  Simply Jesus reveals himself unto her until, at last, everything within comes alive.
     He wants it for us too.  And for every other person of this world who thirsts.  Somehow the two go together – that when we are filled, the Spirit of God comes pouring right back out.  We know it because in this story, Jesus never does get a cup of cool water from that well.  His thirst is quenched in his encounter with the woman and those of her town to whom she introduced him.  We’d do well to remember:  it is in fulfilling the mission of God, Christ’s thirst is satisfied.  . . .  It’s like that with life-giving water.  Ebbing and flowing between us like waves.  No walls able to stop it.  It just keeps crashing up against any defenses, slowly wearing ‘em down, until we’re drenched in God’s life-giving love.
     For us all in this world who thirst, may the Living Water flow!
     In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.
                                             © Copyright JMN – 2017 (All rights reserved.)

After Go

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A Sermon for 12 March 2017

A reading from Genesis 12:1-4.  Listen for God’s word to us.

“Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.  2 I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.  3 I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”  4 So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him.  Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran.”

This is the word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God!

 

When I was a little girl, I loved Sunday night services with the missionaries.  That was back in the day – at least in the Midwest – when churches gathered for worship both on Sunday mornings and on Sunday nights.  It wasn’t like the early and the late service with two different time options to experience the same service of worship.  These were two entirely different services – with two entirely different sermons by the one same pastor.  I’m pretty sure our pastor also loved the Sundays he’d only have to prepare one sermon because a missionary financially supported by the church was on furlough in the States and available to do their thing among us.  The thing they would do on those Sunday nights varied.  Most told stories about the people they were meeting in places deep in the heart of Africa or somewhere over in like Korea.  We’d be shown pictures of people who looked very different than all the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Dutch descendants living in my little hometown.  Never before had I seen such luscious black hair.  And no matter how long my sister and I tried to tan on the beach, our skin could not get as dark as the beautiful faces we’d see from places like Nigeria.  The dress, the language, the very different climates:  I loved it all!

Some Sunday nights those missionaries would take the mic to tell their own personal stories.  We’d hear of calls from God to folks who left successful businesses to venture to the other side of the world.  A few would say they were born to parents committed too to such work; ministering somewhere exotic was all they ever knew.  Every now and again a missionary would get teary-eyed as they told how different their life had become.  Not anything like they’d ever imagined.  They would explain that since they went, they had learned how to communicate with people whose first, second, or fifth language was NOT English.  They now gathered for worship to the sound of a conch shell or the steady beat of a native drum.  After they sold most all of their possessions to make the trip to the other side of the earth with one simple suitcase and few if any luxuries that were common-place back home, they found out they really could be content with less.  They explained:  gratefully, their lives were nothing like they had been back home in the States after they answered, what they believed to be from God, the call to go!

I wonder how many of us would say the same thing.  That gratefully our lives have become like nothing we knew before – like nothing we ever could imagine – after we answered a call to go.  . . .  Don’t tell me you never have.  It doesn’t have to be to some far away international mission field.  We’ve got plenty of work to do for God right here in our own communities. . .  At some point, all of us have answered the call to go.  For starters, we woke up this morning, did our regular morning routines, and landed here in what may be a long-time favorite pew – or perhaps a spot in a sanctuary in which we’ve never set foot before.  . . .  At some point in our lives we agreed to go – go to worship.  Go to a new member’s class.  Go to a bible or other Christian study with a bunch of folks we barely knew.  Go to serve at a mission project sponsored by this congregation or another local church.  All throughout our lives we have answered the Christian call to go – to serve in the world in something more than just a job.  To understand our daily work as the vocation in which our best gifts and abilities can be used for the glory of God – at the school where you teach, or the hospital in which you serve, or the business in which you practice.  Each of us is called by God to go into relationships with people that end up dramatically changing our lives.  Into families that turn out in ways we never would imagine.  Into friendships that shape us for good.  . . .  At some point in our lives every last one of us recognizes some sort of nudge.  The Spirit of God within beacons through a notion we just can’t get out of our head.  A passion stirs that sets us on fire for the benefit of another.  An emotion nags until we sit down to sort out just what it is all about.  That’s the call of God – directed at every one of us.  The summons to go from what we have known into land that’s absolutely unlike anywhere we’ve been before – even if we only ever travel to our local communities, places of employment, or very own families.  We all are called to go.

It’s the story of our ancestor Abram.  In Genesis 12 we start out in Haran with Abram, Sarai, and Lot.  We forget that Abram’s family already had been on the move.  In chapter 11 of Genesis, we learn that Abram’s father Terah first took his family from Ur of the Chaldeans to Haran where they settled before reaching their ultimate destination Canaan.  All we know is that Abram’s father died in Haran.  For whatever reason, he didn’t forge forward on their trek to Canaan.  And after his death, it was time.  The LORD says to Abram:  “go!”  Perhaps Abram knew the location where God wanted them to be.  But here in Genesis 12, God just says “go . . .  to the land that I will show you” (vs. 1).  So much like God – not to give us clear flying instructions before we’re to venture forth.  . . .  We feel that way a lot today, don’t we, as a church?  Gone are the canned ministry programs of the late 20th Century that were designed to get a church from point A to point B to point C.  The experts keep telling us there is no set way today to re-grow a church, other than get to know our neighbor’s needs, organize afresh for action with impact, and switch our mindsets from luring people in as fresh blood for our pews – switch our mindset from going to church to being Christ’s disciples in the world.  To getting out there.  Go-ing into the world to meet people where they are.  So that we can serve the need they have – not in hopes they eventually will come ‘round to be members here – but just to be with them in their need.  Because they have a need – we all do.  And we, as Christ’s body, now act as he would on earth.

Going is scary.  We’re not so sure what we’re going to find.  Abram never had been to Canaan.  He couldn’t anticipate the Canaanites he’d meet.  Other than through possible rumors, he knew nothing of their customs – what they valued and made a part of their daily lives.  He may or may not have been able to speak words that made sense to them.  He didn’t know what would happen for his family’s needs to be met.  He could not anticipate what would take place all along the way or once they finally arrived.  He’d been told he’d be made a blessing – but how that would take place he could not yet know, before he first set out.  . . .  When I consider the steady decline of Mainline church in America, sometimes I wonder if it’s God’s summons to go.  God’s invitation to follow to a whole other land.  Like an adventure to leave behind the country in which we’ve grown comfortable to journey to the land God will show.  It’s not that the land we’ve been dwelling in is bad or anything like that.  It’s just that sometimes we need new vistas.  To expand who we’ve always thought we were.  We need new ways for God to be able to get in that our trust might be deepened and our faith grown wider.  As we go, we’re changed.  We learn what’s of value to those we don’t yet know, which just might sharpen what really matters to us too.  As we go, we’re made into different ways of being in this world which honor our past and take seriously the present.  We’re blessed to be a blessing in ways unimagined if we decide we’d rather not go.

In the end, it’s our choice.  But talk to anyone who’s tried to dodge it – Moses, Jonah, a whole lot of second career preachers.  No matter how foreign the territory to which God tells us to go, we’d do well to let God use us to be a blessing.  Who knows:  maybe we’ll end up grateful.  Our lives changed in ways we never could imagine, before we answered God’s persistent call to go!

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

© Copyright JMN – 2017  (All rights reserved.)

Lenten Reminders

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A Sermon for 5 March 2017 – First Sunday during Lent

A reading from the gospel of Matthew 4:1-11.  Listen for God’s word to us.

“Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.  2 He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.  3 The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.”  4 But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”  5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, 6 saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”  7 Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”  8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; 9 and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”  10 Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’”  11 Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.”

This is the word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God!

What do you do for reminders?  Do you mark anniversaries on your calendar?  Make lists of tasks you need to get done.  Maybe you create little songs to remember names when first you meet a person.  I’ve been told that singing engages at least three different parts of our brains.  It’s not just a fun way to remember; it’s incredibly effective and long-lasting too.  When I was in high school, some kids would write reminders right on their hands.  Perhaps it was a precursor to the tattoos so many have today – symbols permanently inked directly on skin to remember what really, really matters.  I heard once that some people tie red ribbons around their fingers; but I can’t recall now how that’s supposed to help us remember.  . . .  It’s not easy today to remember things – no matter our age!  A blog post on tech21Century explains that the average human brain daily is bombed “with such a large volume of information which could overload even a powerful computer” (www.tech21century.com/the-human-brain-is-loaded-daily-with-34-gb-of-information/).  The study sited, “believes that people are every day inundated with the equivalent amount of 34 GB (gigabytes) of information, a sufficient quantity to overload a laptop within a week.  . . .  (We) receive every day about 105,000 words or 23 words per second” during our waking hours (Ibid.).  Add in all the pictures, games, and whatnot; and before we know it, our human processing system is hampered – especially affecting our focus and hindering our ability to reflectively, deeply think.  One psychiatrist comments that “never in human history, (have) our brains had to work so much information as today . . . (people) are so busy processing the information received from all directions, so they lose the ability to think and to feel” (Ibid.).

If you’re familiar with a contemplative approach to spirituality, then you already may know about a similar phenomenon called monkey mind.  The information age did not event it.  For centuries those teaching centering prayer have been addressing what happens as soon as we start to get ourselves quiet – something we desperately need each day.  Say we decide to give it a try.  We sit down for a few minutes of silence.  When suddenly we’re trying to figure out what to have for dinner.  How we’re going to pay that unexpected bill.  What the doctor’s going to say at our annual visit next week.  . . .  The aim of Christian contemplative meditation is to get quiet.  To empty ourselves – including our monkey minds – for God to have a chance to get in.  Who knows:  it might even recover our ability to think and to feel.  Teachers as far back as the first centuries have cautioned to keep at it.  To train our monkey to calm using a word or two to bring ourselves back whenever we notice things other than the quiet creeping in.  We’re not to chastise ourselves, the contemplatives teach, for such lack of focus.  Just notice and bring ourselves back to the silence with words like:  “Have mercy.”  Or “Yah-weh,” the name of God.  Or my current favorite that summarizes our lives with God in this amazing universe:  on the in-breath:  “receive.”  On the out-breath:  “return.”  . . .  Even when we try to get ourselves quiet, some sort of reminder is needed.

In the wilderness, Jesus had his reminders.  Forty days he was out there – getting himself ready to launch his great, God-given mission.  It was a type of initiation.  An intentional testing; for, according to the gospels, it was the Spirit of God in him that drove him into the wilderness.  . . .  The gospel of Matthew portrays it most clearly.  Right before he took off, he ascended from the Jordan waters.  It’s recorded that the heavens were open and he saw the Spirit of God alighting on him (Matthew 3:16).  His eyes still stinging, his lungs re-filling, his whole body soaking wet; a voice from on high proclaims:  “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).  It was the same message they’d hear again at his transfiguration; though we’re not entirely sure who all had ears to hear at Jesus’ big baptism day.  . . .  If we were reading the gospels as just an interesting novel; then we’d find ourselves pulling for this heroic leading man.  For no sooner do the syllables hit his ear drums, than the Spirit drives him far from everything known.  At this point in the film, the background music would intensify.  The hint of those eerie notes underscore.  Wilderness always has been a place of testing for the people of God.  We know of Moses and the Israelites who underwent every temptation.  Hunger.  Thirst.  Fatigue.  This One’s about to run full-force into them all.  At the end of his rope from forty days and forty nights of wilderness fasting, it is then that another voice speaks.

What will he use for reminders?  What will keep him centered in the truth that his sonship is not conditional, as the other voice keeps challenging?  . . .  What keeps you?

It’s part of why we start the season of Lent each year with Jesus’ temptation.  In the wilderness, we see in him ourselves.  Children of the kingdom too.  Sons and daughters of the Voice that proclaims each one of us beloved as well.  Jesus is the heroic lead character with all the right words of scripture.  He knows the reminders needed to combat against tricky tests of instant self-gratification, reliance upon a swoop-in-to-fix-it God, and lives aimed first towards personal gain.  Jesus passes the test because he remembers.  From the inside out he knows whose he is and how he is to be in this world.  . . .

Lent asks:  do we?

Too often the church has forgotten.  We’ve gathered to keep each other company and re-inforce what we already think.  We’ve a long, bloody history regarding the stranger.  And too much apathy in the face of great need.  We’re reaping what we’ve sown; but it’s never too late to re-plant.  Remembering whose we are and how we are to be in this world, the seeds of our efforts can grow.  We can find new, creative ways to make a difference in the lives of people.  We can follow our Christ afresh.  . . .

If you’ve never heard of One Thousand and One new worshipping communities, then I hope you’ll go home to google it.  It’s the PCUSA’s effort this decade to find ways to connect.  This week I’ve been trying to figure out how best to share the stories with you – the inspiring clips of churches that have started anew.  The incredible ways some Presbyterians in this nation have taken risks to share the love of God with strangers in their communities.  These are our brothers and sisters in Christ who remember whose they are – and how they are to be in this world.  In Kentucky an existing church opened a volunteer-staffed coffee shop to be a place of welcome.  Locals started to gather.  A community began to form.  Young people especially love it – a respite from the daily grind.  It’s become the Friday night place to be.  . . .  A ruling elder in an inner city decided she wasn’t going to judge anymore those hanging around on the nearby streets.  She organized her church friends to make sandwiches, then head out to feed the drug addicts and prostitutes of their block.  As they hand out lunches, they stop for one-on-one conversation and prayer.  The curious they’ve met have come to the sanctuary on Sundays.  And they all are finding their lives uplifted as they listen and care for one another.  . . .  I think it’s Arizona where one woman moved into a trailer park.  She invited folks to come sit a spell under her canopy to share the concerns of their lives.  Soon a small group gathered.  Songs got sung.  Prayers were raised.  The woman ended up in seminary to become the Trailer Park Pastor.  She’s teaching and living the stories of Christ.  . . .  There’s a group for Sunday morning runners that’s become a powerhouse service ministry in their community.  An elderly congregation that’s finding ways to house an elementary string symphony and their parents.  And just because I love to sit in rocking chairs, I absolutely love the story of the church in West Virginia.  On the way to nowhere, attendance dramatically dwindled.  About the time the doors were going to be closed, someone had an idea.  Why not get back to their roots?  Bluegrass surged through their veins.  So, and this is my favorite:  every pew was removed from the sanctuary – just the cross left up on the front wall.  They moved in those wonderful wooden rockers side-by-side in one big circle.  Settling on Tuesday nights, they found a few fiddlers and invited folks far and wide.  They’re no longer open on Sundays, but pack-out the place every Tuesday for an hour of those old time favorites as folks rock in those chairs and share their lives with each other.  The potluck out back after solidifies the experience.  . . .  These all are Presbyterians.  Individuals and churches of our denomination who are finding new ways to reach neighbors for Christ.  Remembering.  Remembering whose they are – and how they are to be in this world.

Whatever we use as reminders, we too must remember.  We follow the One who overcame the tests to serve himself that he would complete his great, God-given mission.  Sons and daughters of the kingdom, we too must remember our call.

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

 

© Copyright JMN – 2017  (All rights reserved.)

 

  “A Lenten Warning”

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A Sermon for 1 March 2017 – Ash Wednesday

A reading from the gospel of Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21.  Listen for God’s word to us:

“’Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.  “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others.  Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.  But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.  “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others.  Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.  But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.  . . .

“’And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting.  Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.  But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.  “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.’”

This is the word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God!

 

I grew up in Wisconsin in a home in the woods along the shores of Lake Michigan.  More than anything, my sister who is two years older than me and our neighborhood friends LOVED to explore outside.  In the summers we’d ride our bikes as far as we could without being away too long for mom to ask too many questions when we returned home.  We spent a lot of time playing on the rocks along the shore line – something we were NOT supposed to do lest we slip and get our shoes wet.  (Getting our shoes wet was a sure sign to mom that we were up to something of which she did not approve!)  We tromped through the woods for as far as we could go without getting totally lost.  And it was on those treks we’d discover the signs.  “Beware of Trespassing,” they shouted.  We were about to leave our parents’ property lines.  You haven’t met my sister, so it may come as a surprise that I was the cautious one among us.  Those signs made an early impression.  They were all it took to keep me from crossing the line.  Beware.  Beware because beyond this point you shall not go!

You too may be familiar with such warnings to beware.  Perhaps you heard the tornado sirens this morning warning us all to beware.  Maybe you have neighbors with a ferocious dog.  “Beware of dogs” reads a sign hopefully posted on their property to be sure no one accidentally gets hurt.  Chemical cleaners tout such warnings.  Medicines not to be taken while operating heavy machinery or consuming things like alcohol have ‘em.  Even roadway signs warning us of fast rising water and trains barreling down the tracks.  Beware each warns because conditions hazardous to life lie before us.

According to the annual Ash Wednesday text of chapter 6 of the gospel of Matthew, beware kicks off the church season of Lent.  Beware Jesus says mid-way through what has been recorded in Matthew as the infamous Sermon on the Mount.  . . .  As the primary sermon of Jesus in this gospel, it’s of note that his words take his listeners to the edge of his parent’s property.  “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them” (Matthew 6:1).  Which goes to prove that Jesus was a good Presbyterian – lifting up that Reformed Theological principle of ours to “shun ostentation and seek proper use of the gifts of God’s creation” (PCUSA Book of Order, [F-2.05]).  We’re not to do anything in our faith lives in order to be showy.  It’s not like we can draw enough attention to ourselves that the LORD God of the Universe would take note of us.  We must beware of making a to-do because it’s not about bringing notice to ourselves as we follow our Lord Jesus Christ.  It’s about proper use of the gifts of God’s creation.

We don’t consider it enough, do we?  That we are part of God’s creation.  That we are a gift, beloved by the Creator of the heavens and earth.  . . .  How are we using the gift that is our life?  . . .  This is what Lent asks – what Lent warns, really.  For against the span of eternity that is God, our lives are just a speck.  As one wonderful song puts it:  we just get so many trips ‘round the sun (Kacey Musgraves, “Follow Your Arrow”).  Beware!  We must not waste it!  . . .  Three times in the last six weeks, my work as a pastor has taken me to the liturgy we Presbyterians use for a Service in Celebration of the Resurrection of Life and of the precious deceased person.  “The grass withers.  The flower fades.”  Quoting the Psalmist, I led the congregations in prayer with these words in every one of those Memorial Services.  From an eighty-year-old to a seventy-two-year-old to a twenty-three-year-old.  In my twenty years of ministry, I’ve been a part of such services for one as young as a still born baby, a seven-year-old, those approaching 100, and every other age in between.  None of us knows how long our days on earth will be.  A Memorial Service is too late.  Too late to be warned about the reality of how fleeting life is.  . . .  That’s the beauty of Lent.  Of Ash Wednesday especially.  Every year the liturgical calendar brings us back to it.  We cannot escape.  Nor should we want to.  We need the reminder that is Lent.  The re-prioritizer that is this night.  . . .  Later in this service we each will have the opportunity to be warned.  To hear the truth that is meant to keep us alert to the gift that we are, which is to be purposefully used.  Tonight we remember that we are dust.  And to dust we shall return.  We feel the ash trace across our skin to mark us for all the world to see.  AND we feel the sign of the cross.  We are reminded that we are to live likewise – the Way of self-giving love.  We are to let go of how we want it all to be, in order to follow in the footsteps of the One whose Way leads to Life.  Lent tells us to make it all count here and now – and let God work out the happily ever-after.

Welcome the sign, brothers and sisters in Christ.  Let this Lent be the warning to give of ourselves now as the gifts God intends us to be.

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

©Copyright JMN – 2017  (All rights reserved.)

Also for Us

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A Sermon for 26 February 2017 – Transfiguration of the Lord Sunday

A reading from the gospel of Matthew 17:1-9.  Listen for God’s word to us.

          “Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves.  2 And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  3 Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.  4 Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”  5 While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”  6 When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear.  7 But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”  8 And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.  9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

This is the word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God.

 Week ONE among you has been wonderful!  Amid the new-hire paperwork, setting up the office, and preparing for this first Sunday together; I had a chance to meet a hand-full of you.  Beebe has been incredibly welcoming and helpful.  Session members have come by to fill me in on immediate info.  A few of us already have begun dreaming about ministries to begin to strengthen your connection with one another and ready this congregation for a future filled with hope.  Day two was especially fun, as that was the day I followed the boisterous sounds of young children’s voices down the stairs, up the hall, and into the Playcare Directors’ office.  I’d already met little Ziggy earlier that day – and his momma Kendra too.  Then as I stood in the Playcare office, another little one made her presence known.  Instead of Ziggy’s shy gaze that eventually turned to smiles, the little one in the office that afternoon was beat red.  Her whole little peach-fuzz head was as scarlet as a ripened tomato.  She screamed at the top of her little baby lungs.  It turned out that I wasn’t the only one having her first week here.  For in the arms of a patient Playcare teacher was thee most unhappy three-month-old you ever did see.  She squirmed and bellowed as the teacher gently tried to satisfy what had to be insatiable screams of hunger.  It was 2:15 p.m. on day one of Playcare for that precious little girl.  And no one all day long had been able to get her to take her bottle to eat.  Her face was contorted while tears streamed down her red-hot cheeks.  You could feel the heat of her discontent all the way across the room.  Her whole countenance was unhappy!

That little one stands in stark contrast to the transfigured Christ we hear of in Matthew’s gospel.  Six days after he had asked them “who do you say I am,” six days after Peter proudly proclaimed him the Son of the living God, six days after Jesus told them the path of self-emptying love would lead directly to a cross before resurrected life could begin.  Six days after all that, Jesus’ countenance was changed too.  His face wasn’t beat red like the little Playcare three-month-old, but shining as bright as the hot summer sun.  Up on that mountain, when Peter, James, and John looked upon him; he radiated.  It was as if everything about him turned the purest white.  Translucent-like.  Like in art that circles the risen Christ with a glorious golden aura; halos around the crown of his head and something like light exuding all about.  It was a miraculous transfiguration for sure, something absolutely incredible to behold.  But it wasn’t the first time it had occurred.  In the first Scripture reading, we heard when Yahweh called Moses up on a mountain.  There he was to receive the law.  As God was working to transform the newly-freed-from-Egypt slaves into God’s very own; a cloud covered Moses and the mountain.  “The glory of the LORD settled on Mount Sinai,” Exodus 24:16 reads.  “And the cloud covered it for six days.”  Moses face eventually would burn red-hot with anger when at last he returned to the people to discover their transgression not just of making, but also of reveling before a golden calf (Ex. 32:19).  When at last he returns to the mountain in order again to be enveloped by God, this time Moses’ face continues to carry the radiant splendor of the LORD.  The Scriptures record it as “the skin of his face” shining “because he had been talking with God” (Ex. 34:29).

I imagine it as love.  Beaming right from the center of his chest, to every cell in his body, until at last his face glimmered and his eyes sparkled from the amazing energy of God.  . . .  I’ve seen it elsewhere too, haven’t you?  In faces alight when lovers gaze into the eyes of the one who fully accepts them for who they are.  In the glow of grateful parents when first they hold their newborn child.  In the way we look when we are in our flow – using our particular gifts to meet the needs about which we care the most.  It is said about such folk that they radiate.  That they sparkle.  That they shine for all the world to see.  Every cell of their bodies filled with the loving light of God.

I can’t help but wonder if Jesus’ encounter on the mountain intentionally included three eyewitnesses just to be sure his followers would get that transfiguration is for them too.  O, it certainly was a wake-up call to the closest of his disciples.  Peter, James, and John saw their Lord changed.  They got caught up with Jesus in a cloud that overshadowed them too.  They saw the figures of Moses and Elijah with Jesus and heard the beautiful words:  “This is my Son, the Beloved; with whom I am well pleased; listen to him!” (Mt. 17:5).  Trembling in fear they fell to the ground – maybe because they’d just heard the definitive voice of God.  Or maybe because the command to heed one who’d just told them of a path of letting it all go . . .  perhaps that Way was too much for the disciples to integrate.  At least before they saw it enacted in full in Christ.

Three Sundays ago the lectionary took us to the gospel of Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ great sermon.  I hope your guest preacher that day used The Sermon on the Mount, in which Jesus brilliantly said:  “You are the light of the world.  A city built on a hill cannot be hid.”  Remember that?  “No one after lighting a lamp,” Jesus says “puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way,” he then commanded “let your light shine before others” (Matthew 5:14-16a).  Shine.  Radiate.  Glow.  Let your face sparkle with the amazing love of God for us and for all!  You know, without such joy in us.  Without such grace exuding from the very center of our beings, how are others today going to see the loving Light of God?  . . .  Sometimes we’re our own worst advertisements.  We follow the One who lit-up this world wherever he set his feet.  Yet we put on our serious, church-going faces to get all somber about what we’re supposed to be doing in here – and out there in the world as well.  We can take ourselves way too seriously and get all caught up on head trips about God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit too.  But it’s a celebration to which we’ve been invited.  A party thrown by the risen Christ who does not want us to fear one thing, but to radiate with the very same Love that transfigured him on that mountain.  He’s chosen us to be behind him in this great adventure of letting ourselves go that others may join the dance too.  He commands us to be light – enlightening others as well.  Allowing all to see.  He needs us to shine.  And glow.  And sparkle with a Love that always leads to Life.

It’s why we’re here – as members of the body of Christ.  Why we, the church, exist.  To shine brightly for all the world to see.  . . .  Part of my work among you as your interim pastor will be to help you tease out – as you begin a new chapter in your life as a congregation without your previous pastor – now and in your future; what will be your unique mission?  I want to know and then help you build upon the particular difference you, as a congregation, seek to make in the lives of people.  I want to know what you are passionate about.  What matters so deeply to you all that you joyously and generously will invest your blood, sweat, and treasures into that piece of God’s mission in this world.  As a part of the body of Christ, what ministry is it that will set your hearts on fire until ya’ll brilliantly shine?!?!

This is our charge, brothers and sisters in Christ.  And the work we will undertake together.  . . .  Transfiguration is also for us.  He told us so.  For we are the light of the world.

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

© Copyright JMN – 2017  (All rights reserved.)

Grateful

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A Sermon for 12 February 2017

A reading from Philippians 1:3-11. Listen for God’s word to us.

“I thank my God every time I remember you, 4constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, 5because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now. 6I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. 7It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. 8For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. 9And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight 10to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, 11having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.”

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God!

 

If you were not here Wednesday night this week, then you missed a fun-filled evening of Bible Trivia. It was the TuTus verses The Chosen Ones – just to see if our Wednesday night adults have learned anything from three years of me facilitating them. I’m happy to report: they got all the answers right (with a little hint or two along the way on the most obscure questions!). After it all was over, I went home to fix my cup of bedtime tea. I was having mixed emotions that night, what with a long week or two of moving boxes out of the office, the care needs that have arisen, and my having a final sermon yet to write in the morning. Gratefully, the tab on the tea bag reminded: “This life is a gift.” . . . This life is a gift, isn’t it? This life, right here today where we stand, how we are, with whom we are surrounded in this very moment. What a gift! . . . I truly hope we all can join in gratitude for the amazing gift of this life – even if it takes a little tea tab reminder.

This life –our life together these past three years – is a gift. It has been a tremendous gift to me. . . . I’m going to do my best not to tear up all over ya’ll today, as I try to express to you how incredibly grateful I am to God and to you for the privilege it has been for me to be your interim pastor. . . . The professional life of ministry isn’t always easy. Most any pastor can tell you that. Lots will site the late night meetings, the wide range of skills needed and how quickly we must shift from using one to the next, the unpredictability of demands upon our emotions and soul and time. I respond to the question a bit differently — shocking, I know, that I would approach anything differently from the rest! For me, ministry has been the toughest when people have expected me to be – or at least to act like – something that I am not. I am not a boy preacher – I think that much is obvious! I get bored with doing things the way they’ve always been done just because they’ve always been done that way – especially if that way is no longer bearing any fruit! I don’t want to just go through the motions; I want to be challenged to stretch a little and to give a little bit more so that God has a new chance to get in – it’s part of why I love interim ministry. And I’m not finished – rather, God’s not yet finished with growing me more deeply into the calm, compassionate, trusting disciple I hope someday to be. This all is me – at least a part of it – and it hasn’t always been entirely welcomed everywhere I’ve been in my twenty years of ministry. And then I arrived here. While there may have been some initial sniffing each other out; from my perspective, all I have experienced from you has been acceptance. Acceptance of who I am how I am, which I believe has allowed me the space just to be so that the fruits of the Spirit God wants the world to know through the crazy combination that is me have been able to be harvested. . . . Acceptance is an incredible gift of this congregation. You cannot forget that – and you cannot reserve that just for a pastor or even just for one another. Acceptance of others for who they are – knowing that that will give the space for God to work through that person for the benefit of others – is a gift this congregation can utilize as you continue to move into ministry with those beyond these sanctuary walls. I speak as one who has benefitted from experiencing it here: acceptance is a gift at which you already excel.

Being open is another. These might go hand in hand, but it bears note. Being open is a mark of mature faith and I have seen it so often in you. For as much as some of you insist that you don’t like change, I have seen you remain open. You’ve been open to new ideas – like learning about the Enneagram as a tool for better self and other-understanding. And hearing about the ways we must shift to thrive as a church in the 21st Century. You’ve been open to trying new things – which you started already in your 2010 New Beginning. Things like starting some of those 21st Century shifts to know your neighbors’ needs and organize yourself in ways that set people free for ministry and not just coming here to church but being church out there in the world each day. Some of you have been open to new experiences like contemplative retreats, even at places like Benedictine monasteries! You’ve been open to worshipping in different ways – or at least experimenting with things like the Taizé service some of us attended at Downtown Presbyterian Church, and even liturgical dance that led us when we attended worship at the Episcopal Cathedral. You’ve been open to singing new songs here in worship, and including Confessions of Faith beyond the traditional Apostles’ Creed. You’ve been open to new, more inclusive ways of being Presbyterians together who know each of you has a ministry to carry out – not just the ordained clergy and session. You have been open to taking up your own ministry of pastoral care to homebound members, and teaching the youth brought here from the neighborhood, and even giving a little bit more of your money to ensure this building remains a place that reflects your deep gratitude for a space in this world where you are accepted and can grow in your love for God and each other. . . . I have seen you be more open than you even may have realized you were being and that alone gives me such a sense of hope for the years of ministry that lie ahead for this congregation. Being open is a gift you already possess that will allow the Spirt of God to carry you where it will into a future filled with amazing faithfulness.

Care resides here too. True, genuine, active care. Lots of congregations think they are really caring. Then when you scratch the surface you learn things like a whole bunch of people don’t even know each other’s names. Or no one seems to have the time to sit with someone as they wait for the doctor to come tell the news. Or the person in charge of arranging meals for church members in need – if the church even has such a ministry – that person always is angry because no one ever will answer the phone when they call to ask about bringing a meal to someone else. For those whose needs have been known, I’ve never heard of such responses among you. For those open to the care of this congregation, ya’ll seem to shower people with God’s love through visits and cards and of course, yummy meals. You genuinely care about one another. And when you find yourselves being pulled in a zillion different directions by the pressures of life, you stop. Re-assess. And figure out new ways to continue to express your care for one another. . . . It’s no small thing that in a world that too often seems void of basic respect for one another, you possess the gift of caring. Caring that the lonely are not alone; caring that those who grieve know God’s Presence through your own; caring that when life gets tough, helping hands are ready. I’ve seen it again and again and I know it for myself because I have experienced your care when I had to go through that shoulder repair surgery; and now too as my mother is battling cancer. You all possess the gift of active caring that really does make an important difference in other’s lives. In that care, which you put into action, the love of God is experienced through you. Such enacted care is a tremendous gift of this congregation that is so desperately needed throughout the Hermitage community and throughout the world.

The Apostle Paul wrote eloquent words of gratitude to the communities of Christians he knew through ministry. We heard such sentiments in the second scripture reading today. “I thank my God every time I remember you,” he wrote. “constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now” (Phil. 1:3-5). He told the community of Christians from whom he was physically absent that he was confident “that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion” (Phil. 1:6). And he should, in fact, believe such, he said. Because together they all share in God’s grace. Together they all have sought to live the grace of God wherever they might be. . . . I don’t have an eloquent epistle to leave with you today. Just a card – one enough for every one of you! That I want you to take home from me to you. Hang it on your refrigerator, put it in your bible or daily devotional book, place it wherever you will see it each day not as a reminder of me. But as a reminder of you. Of who you are as a congregation. Of the amazing gifts you have and freely give for the work of God to be accomplished through you all. I mean it! It’s my last Sunday sermon among you so you better be listening! You possess the life-changing gifts of accepting others. Of being open. Of caring – actively that God’s love will be experienced. These are your ABCs! The gifts for which I give thanks. The gifts I pray you will continue to find new ways to use for the benefit of those beyond these sanctuary walls! . . . Thanks be to you! Praise be to God!

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

© Copyright JMN – 2017  (All rights reserved.)

“God’s Blessings”

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A Sermon for 29 Jan. 2017

A reading from the gospel of Matthew 5:1-12 (NRSV). Listen for God’s word to us.

“When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: 3“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 6“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 7“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. 8“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 9“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 10“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 11“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. 12Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

This is the word of God, for the people of God. Thanks be to God!

Before us today stand God’s blessings. Words so beloved that we might have them cross-stitched on a pillow or hanging on a placard on a wall in our home. I’m not sure I have any original insights to share about these blessings from God. But I do have a few stories. So listen for the word of God.

I once met a waitress when I was at a pub for a reading group. The woman was quite attractive and I noted how she flittered about joking flirtatiously with the male patrons. Halfway through our meal she noticed our books and let us know she was an avid reader. It was a heavy theological text so we were hesitant to tell her about it; but she was insistent. The content of the book had to do with the experience of so many who struggle with mainline Christianity. I told her about it while my colleagues at the table rolled their eyes giving off this “Jule, just stop talking” vibe! Before we knew it, the woman leapt into her story about being raised Christian but not really being a part of it any longer. She said she still let’s her parents take her daughter to Sunday School sometimes. Reading between the lines this beautiful, young, unmarried mother made it clear that she is met with disapproval in her small town. Though she may need them most, her church lets her know her actions are beyond their welcome. . . . “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” Jesus once said, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:3).

Last weekend while I was at my final intensive for Spiritual Direction training in Hendersonville, North Carolina; we heard from a man who is part Cherokee. I noted a sadness about him – a depth of pain he had known, partly from the details of his own journey. Partly from the history of the Cherokees, which his father and grandfather made sure he knew. We were at Kanuga Conference Center in the mountains of North Carolina where Cherokee Indians once roamed free. Our speaker returned often to the Removal of 1830 – an act passed by congress and signed into United States law by President Andrew Jackson. . . . Maybe it was the best policy for a burgeoning nation. Maybe there was no other way for differing groups of natives and settlers to get along with one another. Maybe we choose fear over love and allowed a strong, proud people to lose so very much. . . . According to the gospel of Matthew, on a hill one day, Jesus said: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Mt. 5:4).

Over twenty-five years ago when I moved from a small town in Wisconsin where everyone had enough, I started seeing things I’d never seen before – sights that continue to this day. One sign reads: “Homeless and hungry. Please help.” Another states: “Veteran: will work for food.” The worst are when you can see the wounds – the man with half a leg who’s out there near the Old Hickory Boulevard Kroger almost every Sunday morning. We don’t really know their stories – whether the signs are true or not. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. What strikes me every time is the posture: hung heads, minimal eye contact – which most of us drivers never mind. Have you ever stopped to wonder what’s going on inside? I mean standing there in frigid temperatures and the hottest days of summer too. Waddling along up the line of traffic begging for someone to give a handout. I imagine there’s gotta be some deep desperation inside. Most of us have too much pride to beg like that day in day out. Most of us do what we can to avoid being at the mercy of others. Imagine the humiliation carried as he sits, as she waits, as the young vet waddles along hoping someone will have compassion. . . . A man who would carry the humiliation of us all as he shouldered the cross once said: “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” (Mt. 5:5).

Have you seen signs – often in neighborhoods – but ones we need all over the city that read: “Drive as if every child you see on the street is your own.” Change drive to live as if every child you see on the street is your own and it pretty much summaries the good news of right-relationship we come to know in Christ. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,” Jesus said, “for they will be filled” (Mt. 5:6).

You don’t get to see the church Clerk’s Questionnaire completed each year for the General Assembly on behalf of the ministry you undertake. It starts off easy: name of the congregation, address where it gathers for worship. Moving on to things like number of active members – 85 for HPC at the end of 2016 – and average worship attendance – holding strong at the end of 2016 with an average of 53; question 44 finally asks this: “How many different individuals (nonmembers) do you estimate that your congregation served or ministered this year through its various ministries (events, programs, outreach, and visitors)?” Anyone want to take a guess? . . . If you assist with the Food Pantry, or help with outreach to Tulip Grove Elementary School, or wait each week for someone to come for financial assistance through HPC’s Good Samaritan ministry; then you may not be shocked to hear that in 2016 this small-but-mighty congregation of 85 active members ministered to the needs of 195 people – 195 strangers really whose lives you impacted for good through your generous welcome, your faithful gifts, and your deep compassion for the least of these. We don’t get to hear often enough about the difference made when folks needed just a little something to get them through to the end of the month, or somewhere to rest when the pressures of their lives are too much, or a circle of love to welcome them no matter the challenges they are facing. 195 lives impacted for good! You made that happen. You didn’t have to. But “blessed are the merciful,” Jesus says on that mountain. “For the merciful will receive mercy” (Mt. 5:7).

Pure in heart? A woman I know, who possess an incredibly beautiful spirit, wants to become an ordained priest. It’s not impossible in her tradition. She’s about my age with a supportive husband. Together they already are leading a different kind of ministry in a building someone has allowed them to use rent-free. They’ve created a community where people about their age or younger gather together for dinner once a week. Wine is served. Conversation is had. Folks who once were without any sort of connecting, caring community are finding it there. The woman I know wants to be ordained in order to be able to fully serve this widening community, and others like it, with the sacraments of faith: baptism into the way of Christ. Eucharist around the Table of the Lord. . . . “They will see God,” Jesus says of those who open their hearts in sincerity and honesty and pure devoted-love (Mt. 5:8).

In 2006, the book The Faith Club was released. After 9/11, three New York mothers came together to write a children’s book about each of their faith traditions: Islam, Christianity, and Judaism. The Faith Club captures the fascinating, honest, conversations of Ranya, Suzanne, and Priscilla as three strangers come together regularly to discuss the core principles of their faith and the key struggles they experience with their own and each other’s’ religions. . . . Maybe it’s just a baby step, but “blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

I know a professor at a local church college. She’s there as a woman at an institution that sees women as inferior – unable to attain the same levels of authority in the church as men. It’s hard work, but she’s trying to show a generation of that particular shade of Christianity that there’s a different way to understand the world: one where our contributions are appreciated no matter our bodily form. I’ve listened in horror more than once to stories that show that she’s suspect if not from the administration, then from the students themselves. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,” says our Lord, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:10).

Just a few stories for us to consider this week as we think about some of Christianity’s favorite words. God’s blessings . . . Whether they console or challenge, may they remain with us every day.

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

© Copyright JMN 2017  (All rights reserved.)

 

Come and Change

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A sermon for 15 January 2017

A reading from the gospel of John 1:29-42. Listen for God’s word to us in this gospel text assigned to the second Sunday after Epiphany all three years of the lectionary cycle. Listen.

“The next day he (John the Baptist) saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! 30This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ 31I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” 32And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. 33I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ 34And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” 35The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, 36and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” 37The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. 38When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” 39He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. 40One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. 41He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). 42He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).”

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God!

 

There’s a word in the English language. It starts with the same letter as Christ. It starts with the same letter as another word prominent in this reading from the first chapter of the gospel of John, which actually brings it all about. The word I have in mind names a process most of us admit that we don’t at all like. Though it’s strange really, that we would have such disdain for this word and for the process. Because even in our own bodies, it takes place daily – naturally without any effort on our part; and mostly without much notice. History has shown that organisms that resist the process named by the word do not last. We label them extinct and include them in museums not only for the enjoyment of future generations but also for the warning we need to learn from them. Resist the process at your own risk. Deny the word starting with the same letter as Christ at your own peril. Fight against it – when it’s upon you for your own benefit and the benefit of others – and you’ll find yourself in the next extinct exhibit. Can you guess the word I’m talking about? The word that’s almost so taboo among too many churches that it’s up there with topics like sex and politics and money – all the hot button topics very few want covered in Sunday sermons.

The word is: Change. Change. Why do so many of us dislike it?

The gospel of John has an interesting way of introducing Jesus. It starts with its very high view of his divinity: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God” (John 1:1). Unlike the other three gospels, John launches then into John the Baptist’s telling of Jesus’ baptism. Instead of the real-time view of it taking place, John the Baptist just speaks out loud, not really to anyone, but just as he sees Jesus in passing one day. It’s as if the gospel of John means to say from the start that the testimony about this incarnate Word is even more important to those with ears to hear and eyes to see, than is the actual event taking place for that Word in flesh. . . . The text we heard this morning is crucial for the church – so much so that, like I already said, every year after Epiphany and Baptism of the Lord, the lectionary gospel reading turns to the gospel of John for one week prior to delving into Matthew in Year A, Mark in Year B, and Luke in Year C.

It’s about change. The whole story of those who would heed the call to come is the unfolding adventure of their lives. As John points others to Jesus as the lamb of God who will take away the sins of the world, Andrew and another curious disciple of John begin following Jesus. Their lives never again will be the same. . . . If we were to see this on the big movie screen, we’d see John hanging out with a few folks around him. Jesus might have been just strolling by on his way home from a carpentry job ready to relax for the night, when John raises his voice to say: “Look! The lamb of God!” . . . It’s enough for Andrew and another one to take off after him. Was it a crowded village street, Andrew and the other ducking behind carts and doors as they tailed Jesus that afternoon? Or were they bold enough to just start walking right behind him. Step after step until Jesus, aware of their presence, over his shoulder turns to ask: “What are you looking for?” . . . It might it have been as simple as: “why in the world are you shadowing me?” Or maybe from the start Jesus was confronting these seekers with the much deeper question of what really it is in you that longs to be fulfilled? What is it for which you seek? . . . There’s no satisfactory answer about why they wanted to know his address. Though it’s of interest that, according to the text, they want to know where he is staying. I’m pretty sure it’s foreshadowing that though this enfleshed Word of God has a place to stay that night, he’s soon to set out on a journey that will lead to not one of the faithful ever staying in one spot again. According to the text, they will remain with him that day (1:39), as will the Spirit of God with us according to the resurrected Christ’s promise. But staying – settling into one secure little spot, metaphorically and literally, never again to change, will NOT be an option for a faithful follower of Christ. . . . Come and see he says to those who want to lay eyes upon where he stays. . . . It’s an invitation to a journey. A road Christ calls them to walk, which will be filled with twists and turns and changes all along the way.

We know it intellectually, even if we resist it emotionally. The Christian life is all about change – leaving behind the vices that bind us as we daily grow in the virtues of Christ. Finding increased in us things like love and patience and wisdom and mercy. Can you even remember now what you were like before you started to follow? Who was in your life then and what was typical of how you spent your time? For many of us our lives have been shaped from the start by the call of Christ. By our commitment to being his disciple through childhood in the church, our teen years, young adult and even until now. For others of us, there was a moment. Something brought us onto the journey – whether a wife that told you you were coming because the kids were going to be raised in the church. Or a first service here or elsewhere that really resonated within when you were looking for some direction in your life. Maybe it was a mission project with a population that mattered greatly to you that perked your curiosity around the kind of folks that would care about such a thing too. . . . Can we recall where we started and how incredibly far we have come? We have changed. Every last one of us. We have become witnesses to the way of Christ by the way we live our lives. Our pursuits have changed. Our priorities have shifted. The way we spend our time has become patterned after the things that matter to God. The very nature of who we are, if we’re really following after Jesus, begins to change as we grow with him in God’s Spirit.

I’m sure I’ve shared a hymn with you included in the latest publication of the Presbyterian Hymnal, Glory to God. The song is entitled “The Summons.” And unlikely many hymns, the second phrase of all five stanzas of the song come back to the same words. They are: “and never be the same.” It’s a little annoying when you sing it and perhaps necessary in order to keep the rhyme with the end of each first phrase that goes: “if I but call your name.” Imagine what would happen in you with a regular singing of such a hymn. Here’s how the first two phrases of each stanza goes: “Will you come and follow me if I but call your name? Will you go where you don’t know and never be the same? . . . Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name? Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same? . . . Will you let the blinded see if I but call your name? Will you set the prisoners free and never be the same? . . . Will you love the ‘you’ you hide if I but call your name? Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?” Then, in the fifth stanza, the singer finally addresses the One calling in the other four stanzas. “Lord, your summons echoes true when you but call my name. Let me turn and follow you and never be the same. In your company I’ll go where your love and footsteps show. Thus I’ll move and live and grow in you and you in me.” (Glory to God, Presbyterian Hymnal, 2013. Text John L. Bell and Graham Maule © 1987 WGRG; “Will You Come and Follow Me: The Summons,” #726). . . . May it be so.

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

© Copyright JMN 2017  (All rights reserved.)

Needed by the Kingdom

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A Sermon for 8 January 2017 – Baptism of the Lord

A reading from the prophet Isaiah 42:1-9. Listen for God’s word to us.

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.   Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: ‘I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. I am the Lord, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols. See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.’”

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God!

In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the fifth of C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia; Eustace stands out. He’s the sniveling cousin of Lucy, Edward, Peter, and lil Susan too. In case you’re unfamiliar with Narnia, you need to know that the four siblings Lucy, Edward, Peter, and Susan live in parallel worlds. In the real world, they’re bored, commonplace kids. But in Narnia, they are royalty. They’re the queens and kings the kingdom frequently needs. Without their valor and courage, their trust and love; the kingdom is held captive by the evil forces of the snow witch; or in the case of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by a mysterious, demonic mist that takes captive those who encounter it. Cousin Eustace doesn’t believe. Not one bit. He hates having Lucy and Edward in his home in the real world and finds all their talk about this mystical Narnia place, in which they are something other than a total pain to him, absolutely rubbish!

It would happen, of course, that one day, Eustace falls into Narnia right behind Edward and Lucy. Despite the sights all around him – including a talking, sword-wielding mouse – he still doesn’t buy into the notion of a Narnia kingdom where their help desperately is needed. . . . Over the course of events, Eustace becomes a flying, fire-breathing dragon. And as the dragon, Eustace takes on the unique qualities needed to combat the devilish mist. Of course royal Lucy and Edward are needed too. But without fire-breathing, dive-bombing, scaly-skinned Eustace; the mist which holds its prisoners captive cannot be defeated.

Baptism of the Lord Sunday seems a good day to remember Narnia. For today we are confronted, not only with Jesus’ baptism, but also with our own. It’s been a while since we’ve had the joy, in Baptism, of pronouncing a new child as God’s very own. And when last have you experienced the excitement of watching an adult bow to embrace the reality of Christ’s royal mark? Every time we celebrate the Sacrament of Baptism, we all are reminded of who we are and to whom we belong. The purpose of all our lives is re-affirmed again as we, the church, rise refreshed for life in the world. That’s why we do baptism the way we do as Christians of the Reformed Theological Tradition. Baptisms are public, with vows taken both by the individual (or as in the case of infant baptism, for an individual) AND by the congregation. We believe baptism is a sign and seal of what the Sovereign God already has done in Christ. Though we might live in the real world where too often we feel like boring, commonplace Lucy and Edward; the truth of it is for us that we too are royalty – children of the most high God who are needed in the kingdom.

It would be really helpful if we did a better job as the church in remembering and marking the passage of our baptism dates. Do you know yours? Do you light a candle on that day or get out a keepsake bulletin? I urge you to. And parents and grandparents: if you don’t yet, begin this tradition with your children. Because on the day when you were baptized – whether you were a baby so you can’t remember it now or maybe dunked as a teenager in this or another tradition – our baptisms are a very BIG deal! . . . So many want to focus on baptism as an assurance of God’s gift of salvation. But honestly that’s not the purpose of baptism in the Reformed Theological Tradition. For us, baptism is not a form of dispensing God’s grace to us – nor is our other sacrament, the Lord’s Supper. Rather each act is a reminder to us of what God already has done – the crucifixion and resurrection are over. We are set free for abundant life now! Let the ritual – let the act of feeling water on your head and tasting bread and juice in your mouth – let these rituals remind you of who you are, to whom you belong, and how you are to live each day in the world.

Consider Isaiah. It may seem a bit odd to read this Old Testament Servant Song as the focus of Baptism of the Lord Sunday. Because, who really is the servant? Historically some have said the prophet was writing while the Israelites were in exile. Cyrus was the exalted servant (Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1, Stephanie A. Paulsell, p. 220). After all, he was the great Persian king who would defeat Babylon and pave the way for the people to return to Jerusalem. Others think Isaiah is speaking of Israel itself. Thus the whole community is God’s servant, chosen to protect the weak and gently cup their hands around any dimly burning wick so even the littlest light will not be snuffed out (Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1, Stephanie A. Paulsell, p. 218). Much like Matthew’s author does, many Christian commentators have read Jesus into the Old Testament to insist that Isaiah’s servant refers to our Christ. As the Messiah, he is considered the fulfillment of such prophecy. Indeed we know Jesus to be one upon whom the spirit of the LORD rests – the one whom God called Beloved, with whom God is well-pleased (Matt. 3:17). The one who would not faint nor be crushed until justice is established on the earth (Is. 42:4). . . . All options are viable in thinking about who this servant is in whom, according to Isaiah 42, God’s soul delights. . . . And so too are you. As the church upon whom God’s Spirit has been poured out, we can hear the first of Isaiah’s Servant Song as a gift to us. Blessed words spoken by God to us: “Here you are; my servants, whom I uphold, my covenant children, in whom my soul delights” (Is. 42:1). I love the way the version of the bible called The Message lays out these marching orders from God. Listen: ‘I’ve bathed you with my Spirit, my life. You are to set everything right among nations. No need to call attention to what you do with loud speeches or gaudy parades. You won’t brush aside the bruised and the hurt; you shall not disregard the small and insignificant. But steadily – firmly – you shall set things right. . . . Open blind eyes – if not literally then figuratively – release prisoners from dungeons, empty the dark prisons in which too many are caught’ (Is. 42:7).

Can you see how the words of Isaiah are words that give form to our baptismal vows? We are the royal servants that the kingdom needs. Our valor and courage, our trust and love are the unique qualities needed to combat the forces that still seek to take captive whoever they can. . . . I know sometimes it’s hard to remember. I know sometimes life in the real world can push us down until with Narnia’s Eustace we don’t believe. But remember, children of the covenant, remember household of God: we are the royal servants the kingdom so desperately needs.

As we prepare to reaffirm our baptisms, remember who you are, to whom you belong, and how you are to live in the world each day.

© Copyright JMN – 2017  (All right reserved.)

The Disruption of Christmas

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A Sermon for 1 January 2017

A reading from the gospel of Matthew 2:13-23. Listen for God’s word to us.

“Now after they (the wise men) had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” 14Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, 15and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.” 16When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. 17Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: 18“A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.” 19When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, 20“Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” 21Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. 23There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.””

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God!

 

This text leaves me wondering if Joseph and Mary had any clue about how disruptive the birth of Jesus was going to be. What parents-to-be ever do? If you’ve had children – or maybe just had a few grandchildren stay at your house over the holidays – then you might know how such sweet little ones can absolutely turn your world upside-down, inside-out, and backwards all at the very same time! Little ones come into our lives as such vulnerable gifts. When first they are born, they can’t do anything – you remember, don’t you? They cannot do one little thing for themselves. But they sure can cry. They sure can let out plenty of nasty stuff from the other end too. And they sure can make their presence known – especially when one of their mysterious needs is not being met! I remember when first my sister brought my nephew here for a visit. He was crawling around by then and nothing could be left in its regular spot. He reached for it all. And had a little schedule all his own to which us grown people just had to adjust. And he came with so much stuff! Blankets and bottles and sit-up chairs and special beds. Not that it’s not totally worth it, but man do little ones entirely disrupt life! Again, if you just had one or two of your precious grandchildren or other special little ones in your life – if you just had a few of them around for the holiday week, you might find your house still completely out of order and yourself totally exhausted! But, of course, it’s absolutely worth it!

Which is why we’ve got to wonder if Joseph and Mary had one inkling of an idea of how disruptive the birth of little Jesus was going to be! Look at how their lives change – especially according to the gospel of Matthew’s details regarding the story. For something like the first four years of his life, keeping him alive meant incredible disruption. From Bethlehem to Egypt they have to move. Flee, actually. This little one is a perceived threat to the whole kingdom. Herod goes nuts – as was a routine Herodian response. He absolutely losses it when this little one is born, and the wise ones from the East fail to return to smoke-out where the precious darling is being kept. In a dream, Joseph is warned and doesn’t waste one minute, moving himself and Mary and the baby all the way cross-country to a foreign land. It’s kinda unbelievable because Joseph knew the land of Egypt was the land of enslavement. There his people had been treated terribly way back when. Of course, others had fled there over the years too. Some escaped exile in Babylon by returning to Egypt. Joseph had to trust that it was going to be ok. They had to hope that one day they’d also be able to return home. . . . It might have been nice, though, to remain in Egypt his whole childhood long. You know, get him started in the right pre-school, then kindergarten through twelfth at least in the same school system so he’d grow with his childhood friends. And Joseph and Mary would be known in the PTO to have the support of the other parents too. But another dream comes; and just about the time they’ve settled in as a family: disruption once again. Back to Judea they head. Until Joseph realizes Herod’s son now rules and is known as being more brutal than his father before him. They don’t want to chance it and another dream confirms it. So instead of heading back to the place of the child’s birth; they make the trek to Nazareth, way far north in the district of Galilee. They must have surmised that nothing big ever had come from there – certainly the family would be safe. . . . The gospel of Matthew tells it as if Joseph and Mary had never before been to Nazareth and just randomly chose the sleepy little town to set up shop. The gospel of Luke locates them there from the start – with relatives to be built-in family support. However it might have been, it could not have been easy moving around that much the first few years of the child’s life. Re-establishing themselves all along the way. Trying to protect this little bundle of joy God had given. Wanting to be able to feed and clothe him well. Teach him all he needed to know for the special work instore for his life. It couldn’t have been easy to have given over control of their own life plans for another way to be made. Indeed, this little one born to them in Bethlehem was a disruption from the start!

For most of us, these past few weeks have been a disruption from the regular routines of life. We spend the whole season of Advent preparing – if not our hearts, at least our homes and refrigerators and rituals of the season. For many of us Christmas disrupts our diets and our bank accounts and our sleep patterns. Hopefully we’ve had a little time out from our typical daily tasks and have been able to relax a bit with family and friends. Work can wait until the celebrations are over and everything gets back to normal. . . . But I wonder: how will his birth disrupt the days that lie ahead? Wouldn’t it be an absolute shame if we let all the preparations for his birth disrupt our Decembers, then leave us heading into a new calendar year tucking the little one tightly into a box along with the shepherds and wise men and animals of our favorite nativity scenes? It really would be terrible if we rolled right back into tomorrow without anything at all in our lives being much different. If we let the celebrations of a birth disrupt us more than the actual child. . . . He wasn’t meant to be relegated to holiday moments. He was meant to truly open us to the re-birth of God in us. He’s meant to disrupt the way we’d like things to be, in exchange for the wild adventure that Christ’s Way gives to us.

It starts with our baptisms, which we’ll be remembering next week when we gather for Baptism of the Lord Sunday. From the moment our lives are given over in the sign and seal of that sacrament, we no longer belong to ourselves. We are engrafted into a new family – children of the covenant, members now of the household of God. Disruption, disruption, disruption! We promise to work against evil and all its powers in this world. To take on the ways of Christ – which are summarized best in willingly living the path of self-giving love. We’re ambassadors, after baptism, for the very ways of God. Here to live peace. And joy. And hope. Which means not just in our thoughts, but in the actions of our lives too. We are to model the actions of that disruptive little baby! Posing a threat to those who want to live by force and fear and corruption. We’ll go wherever we must, according to the disruptive Spirit of that child, to protect the goodness that is to emanate from us out into this world. We set up shop among strangers, turning those we’d never otherwise encounter into family because that’s the way of the disruptive baby born in Bethlehem. We’ll learn new ways and adjust to what’s around us now so that the Spirit of God within us has an opportunity to be seen by all. That’s how disruptive Christmas is to be for us – leaving us, alongside Joseph and Mary, to give up our own life plans in order to nurture in us the one of Love. Disrupting, disrupting, disrupting the regular ways of this world for the ways of God instead. . . . And you know what? Whether we realize it when first it begins, it’s likely we’re going to find it’s worth it. Like the disruptive little baby himself, absolutely worth it! . . . Welcome to life disrupted, brothers and sisters of the covenant. Get ready to experience the bundle of joy God gives!

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

 

© Copyright JMN – 2017  (All Rights Reserved.)