“WALKING ON A CLOUD”
Text: Hebrews 11:29-12:2
Faith United
August 19, 2007
I didn’t grow up around extended family
My aunts, uncles and cousins were either down in Mississippi
and Louisiana
or scattered all over the world
So I didn’t even KNOW most of them
And in New Jersey,
it’s not a cultural thing like it is in Nebraska
for parents and grandparents to go to every single game
ice cream social or music concert
that happens at their kids’ school
I didn’t grow up expecting that,
because mostly I didn’t have any extended family
who could show up if that was even the norm
When Sarah was little and started playing soccer
at the age where parents are just happy if the kids stay on the field
much less kick a goal
I loved watching her play
I loved watching her kick the ball instead of running away from it
or block a goal when she was goalie
I remember thinking during those days
what God must feel like
If I felt that proud of my little kindergartener
going on there and running up and down that huge field
chasing a ball
If I felt so overjoyed at watching her achieve something as small
as just kicking the ball…
How must God feel looking at US?
Does God absolutely DELIGHT in watching us grow and learn
and discover and get back up again when we fall?
I think so…
If I as a human parent can feel that delight,
how much more must God feel for each of us?
I tended to adopt extended family along the way
because everybody needs a cheering section
I particularly remember my high school graduation
I did ok in high school
I didn’t know I was smart
So I didn’t try too hard
but I got by with ok grades
I didn’t win any big scholarships
or even place in the top 10 of my class
I didn’t win anything for athletics or have any trophies
But I did get to go up on stage for some smaller awards
like Best Spanish Student
or Best Senior Essay
and then I think I got a nice little scholarship
from the AAUW local chapter
But they weren’t the big ones
and I wasn’t one of the top kids in my class
or one of the most popular
However, I do remember every time I got to go on stage
for those small awards
and then for my degree,
my Aunt Sandie-- who wasn’t really my aunt,
she was just my Mom’s best friend--
I remember she stood up and screamed
waving her arms like a real lunatic
shouting my name across the auditorium
while my mother looked very embarrassed
But she did it every time my name was called
and as embarrassing as it was,
inside I was grateful to be singled out and cheered for
when I felt like nothing special at the time
We don’t have heroes much anymore
the ones we might look up to
Ttnd to fall very far from grace
and thanks to the media
we know all the sordid details of their failures
So we’re more cynical, I think, about heroes
Also there’s a difference between growing up, maturing
and becoming cynical
As a child, I remember looking up to people
assuming they knew everything
assuming that they did everything right
and that they had it all figured out
I also remember different occasions
when I’d see an adult I admired or looked up to
make a mistake or show their mean side
or just do something stupid
and how disappointing that was
The image I had of them was shattered
and I didn’t think they could be my hero anymore
The media has a way of trashing people in our culture
especially public figures and leaders
nobody can live up to that perfect image
We can’t just dislike someone or disagree with them
If we don’t like them, as a culture we tend to discredit them
and tear them apart… no one really has a chance
But then we look at Scripture,
look at this list of heroes
You won’t find a blameless, perfect person among them
King David? A man after God’s own heart
who also committed adultery and murder
Samson? Had more brawn than brains, it seemed
and was easily manipulated for his power
usually by a woman who knew his weaknesses
The people of Israel who walked through that Red Sea?
All along the journey they complained,
they thumbed their noses at God
One minute God was the greatest, the next minute
they were praying to golden statues…
Rahab, the only woman besides Sarah
who is named among the greats of the faith,
and who helped the Israelite spies
She was a prostitute
None of these people’s characters would have endured
the scrutiny and arrogant analysis of our 21st century media
As a child, I banked a lot on my heroes
Sometimes they made me feel like I could be fantastic
it was like walking on a cloud
but then to find out that they were just as human as me
that they were sometimes weak or afraid
they made bad decisions, even failed
As a child it was disillusioning
and I often swore I’d never look up to them again
But the letter to the Hebrews says that we are surrounded
by a great cloud of witnesses
heroes of the faith
to look up to them, to be empowered and encouraged
by their stories and their lives
is not like walking on a cloud
but like being SURROUNDED by a cloud
at first glance, the list of great ones may look like a list of losers
instead of winners
People who got beaten up, crucified, persecuted, publicly humiliated
Not people who made straight A’s in school all the time
or won all the races, or got any awards
In our cultures’ standards, the heroes of the bible
look like a bunch of losers
And Jesus?
He was supposed to conquer the kingdoms
He was supposed to display his superior power
He was supposed to assume the throne
and make everything right again
Instead he ended up completely humiliated
treated like a common criminal worthy of execution
It looked like he let his enemies win
while he hung out with the poor and the wretched of society
and tended to avoid the bigwigs and the people that could
get him where they thought he needed to go
He had only a team of 12 disciples to begin with
and his crowd of followers was relatively small
not worth noting, really
It was quite a little ragtag army
Of course, that’s looking at it all from a human perspective
We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses
human beings that have lived and died in their faith
In the Apostles’ Creed we say that we believe in the communion of saints
which means that as Christians,
we believe that there is an ongoing spiritual relationship
between the saints who have died
and those who are still living
And all those imperfect lives point to the life of Jesus Christ
Those lives still speak to us
tThey stand as witnesses to the amazing grace of Jesus Christ
Who takes our ordinary, imperfect lives
and makes them extraordinary witnesses of the Gospel
When I first learned about the communion of saints
I was a little skeptical
I mean, it’s hard to believe
At least, it’s easier to believe
until someone we love actually dies
and death slaps us in the face
But then someone pointed out to me that
we believe Jesus died, was dead and buried
we also believe he rose from the dead
and ascended into heaven
And we believe that he is alive
sSo much so that he is guiding us, directing us, loving us
and that we can communicate with him
any time we want
even though we have never met him in the flesh
In the same way, we believe as a church
that the saints who have gone on before us
are still connected to us
they’re kind of our balcony people
cheering us on, because they’ve already been there
As I’ve grown up…
I’ve learned that nobody and no-thing is perfect
We live in a very imperfect world
We live in a great tension between what God wants
and what the world is actually like
Between who God wants us to be and who we are
Even the Church is infected with sin
because it’s made up of human beings
But the good news is that God formed the Church
a long, long time ago,
began with a ragtag army of disciples
who followed Jesus but were never quite sure
of who he was
and they got it wrong more often than not
But the Church is still going
it still takes it’s blows, it still suffers its disappointments
and setbacks
But God still calls us, the Church, to join the great cloud of witnesses
the communion of saints
in telling and living the Story of Jesus Christ
Someone else walked the road before us
And don’t shy away from the identification of saint
Saint doesn’t mean that we or they were perfect
it just means that we are the people of God
trying to figure out just what that means
The stories in the Bible don’t sugarcoat anything
they’re raw, they’re sometimes uncomfortably blunt and honest
but they witness to the power of God in Jesus Christ
It’s hard
I remember some cynics telling me in seminary
that I was about to jump onto a sinking ship, meaning the Church
because yeah, the numbers are down, the Church is still trying to
figure out how to be a credible witness in the 21st century
and we don’t always get it right
there are times that it seems all wrong
And yet… and yet…
We remember the stories that point to THE Story
and we get back up off the ground, and we get going again
We run with perseverance the race that is set before us
We may not win any ribbons
or break any records
our lives may seem so ordinary
and unexciting
We may even royally mess up and trip up along the path
And yet according to Hebrews, the point of the race
is not necessarily to win,
at least to win by the standards of our society
But the writer of Hebrews is more concerned with throwing off
whatever holds us back from reaching for the prize,
reaching for the goal, from running the race at all
from reaching higher and further
What holds us back? What excuses do we make for giving up?
For sitting on the sidelines?
Lay it aside, we’re told, shake it off
Look to Jesus as the author and perfecter of our faith
Our lives are only part of the ongoing story, the ongoing witness
but we play a part, we have a role
we have a sentence to contribute
a note to be sung
When we were in South Dakota, after visiting Mt. Rushmore,
we went to the Crazy Horse monument
they’ve been working on that monument for 50 years
and only the face is finished
The story of how the dream came to be is fascinating
The original sculptor began the project completely by himself
When it’s all completely finished,
Mt. Rushmore would fit into the hair of Crazy Horse
and the monument will be of Crazy Horse riding his horse
and pointing out to his lands…
It’s crazy..
The original sculptor is dead
His family has taken over the project
They won't live to see the final results
But they have given their lives to a dream
aA dream that may not come to fulfillment in their lifetime
bBut they know that they will have had a part in making it possible
It’s not a practical dream, but it’s an inspiring dream
aAnd little, by little, year by year, it’s taking shape
That takes faith
and vision
and a heart with the capacity to see beyond
what the physical eye can see
What we are called to live and to be as Christians
may seem absurd and may seem like a dream out of reach
But still we keep running the race, believing in the dream
keeping our eyes on the one we can’t see
but the one we know in our heart of hearts goes before us
blazing the trail, paving the way
and giving the power to keep running,
to keep reaching, to keep searching
to keep loving, dreaming dreams and seeing visions
of God’s kingdom on earth
We are not alone
We can’t see them,
but the air around us in our worship and in our living
is filled with the spirits of the imperfect saints
who shared the same dream, the same vision
and whose stories and lives give us the hope
that we’re not just walking on a cloud
but that our feet are walking on solid ground
towards the dream embodied in the face of Jesus Christ
My father was know to say in his Sunday School class
“Now we better go back before we go forward…”
And what he meant was that we had to look back
at what other people have said about what we were learning
before we could go on and learn a new thing
All that we learn is something that someone else learned before us
and passed it on, whether it’s history, geography, science
or the Bible
we are the bearers of a tradition
And no matter what we do to communicate the Gospel in our changing times
we can never let go of the traditions that got us here
the teachers that have taught us
We can modernize and contemporize,
but we can never fully let go of the past and all that it teaches
And we have the communion of saints in our hearts and memories
to be examples of lives that have fought the good fight
and finished the race,
even if we thought that they finished much too soon
In 1984, just a year after she cheered at my high school graduation
Sandie died from melanoma at the age of 39
It was horrible and devastating and I was furious with God
and even though I had faith,
I had a hard time believing that Sandie was truly alive
that she was ok
About two months after her death
I had a dream
that she came to the house with her family
with her husband and two young kids
We played games, we laughed, we ate around the table,
just like we always did when they came to visit
but we all knew that she was just visiting
from eternity, that she couldn’t stay with us
In the dream, she took me to the kitchen, off by myself
and we hugged a long time
I told her I missed her and I didn’t know how to get along
without her
She held me away from herself and looked me in the eye
She said, “I miss you too, but you know what?
someday you’ll see me again.
and when you do, we’ll never have to say goodbye again.”
I woke up from that dream
with my skin feeling as if I’d actually touched her
aAnd I knew that dream was a gift from God
I still grieved her death,
in fact, 23 years later, I still miss her
and wish I could tell her stuff
But in the midst of the tears, I had that dream
tTo keep me moving forward, trusting that she is still
up there in the balcony cheering me on the rest of the way
There is a sign on the Winchester cathedral in England that says:
“ you are entering a conversation that began long before
you were born and will continue long after you’re dead.”
What verse will we contribute to the poem?
What notes will we add to the song?
What will our story be?
Monday, August 20, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Wild About Harry
On Friday night, July 20th, at 11:55 p.m., I was sitting in the Hilltop Mall on one of those hard benches waiting for my family. Most of the stores were closed, mind you, all except for Walden Books. There was a long line full of people, old and young, some dressed in black robes and neckties, many teenagers simply dressed as teenagers do. Larry was further up in the line than Sarah and her friend Erin, so he came back to me with the orange-covered book earlier, giving me the chance to look on the last page for the last sentence: “all is well.” That’s all I needed to know ahead of time. All is well in the end.
Yep, I’m 42 years old and I stayed up for the Midnight release of the final book in the infamous Harry Potter series. Was I just being one of the good, supportive parents who often make such sacrifices for their children? No—well, partly, I suppose, but I was there as much for myself as for Sarah. I have loved Harry for 6 years. During the Fall of 2001, in anticipation of the release of the first HP movie, I decided as a pastor and as a parent, I ought to check out this phenomenon. I read the first book in the series. Within three weeks, I’d read all four of the then-existing books. I couldn’t put it down. I was hooked. In a world that had recently been shattered by 9/11, Harry took me off on his magic broom and reminded me that love conquers all.
There are 7 books in the series, and 7 is a biblical number of perfection. Completeness. And Harry’s story is indeed complete. The story is written with enviable brilliance. There are many biblical undertones throughout the books. If J.K. Rowling has no background knowledge of the Bible and Christian tradition, then her writing is even more magical. Harry has been a big part of our family’s life over the last 6 years. As of Friday night, Sarah and I had some disagreement over details in the final story, and waited to see who was right (I won’t say who was right). But through these 6 years of following his enchanting story, Harry has reminded us delightfully that love is the most powerful force in the universe. Friendship and loyalty, to the point of laying down your life for a friend, are some of the most important gifts there are. Ultimately, it’s about the struggle between Good and Evil, as any good fairy tale, and in the final book, there is an Armageddon-type battle between the two forces. Seemingly bad people turn out good. Nobody is perfect, but they all have their stories, and knowing their stories helps you understand who they are and why they are the way they are, and elicits sometimes reluctant compassion toward them. The story is very dark in places, as you’ve most likely heard, as Evil gets a foothold on the world for awhile and it seems very likely that Evil will dominate and win. As is painfully true in our own world, the fight for Good to win involves sacrifice, losses, and an ongoing commitment to keep fighting for what you believe in even when it looks like the world is coming to an end and Good is losing. The darkest parts of Harry’s story are simply as dark as our own reality. Harry, in the end, is a Christ-like figure, whose greatest power is not magic, but his ability to love. And it is that relentless power to love and purity of heart that defeats evil in the end.
I’ll miss Harry. There are few books of fiction that compare to Rowling’s level of writing. She is simply brilliant. But Harry gave me something to share with my daughter as she grows into adolescence. He’s given us something to talk about together, care about together, wonder about together, and journey with together through our own dark and difficult times in this post-9/11 world. And he has let us ride off on a broom with him for many hours at a time, step back, and remember that God reminds us that the world may seem dark, but Love as we’ve seen it in Jesus Christ-God Incarnate, is the only thing worth fighting for and hoping in. The Kingdom of God, Jesus promises, will come in the end. Love will win in the end. Good will triumph at last. And in that day, when there are no more tears, no more death, no more wars, no more terror, no more blatant evil and chaos, we can say, finally, “all is well.” And it will be. Jesus said so.
Yep, I’m 42 years old and I stayed up for the Midnight release of the final book in the infamous Harry Potter series. Was I just being one of the good, supportive parents who often make such sacrifices for their children? No—well, partly, I suppose, but I was there as much for myself as for Sarah. I have loved Harry for 6 years. During the Fall of 2001, in anticipation of the release of the first HP movie, I decided as a pastor and as a parent, I ought to check out this phenomenon. I read the first book in the series. Within three weeks, I’d read all four of the then-existing books. I couldn’t put it down. I was hooked. In a world that had recently been shattered by 9/11, Harry took me off on his magic broom and reminded me that love conquers all.
There are 7 books in the series, and 7 is a biblical number of perfection. Completeness. And Harry’s story is indeed complete. The story is written with enviable brilliance. There are many biblical undertones throughout the books. If J.K. Rowling has no background knowledge of the Bible and Christian tradition, then her writing is even more magical. Harry has been a big part of our family’s life over the last 6 years. As of Friday night, Sarah and I had some disagreement over details in the final story, and waited to see who was right (I won’t say who was right). But through these 6 years of following his enchanting story, Harry has reminded us delightfully that love is the most powerful force in the universe. Friendship and loyalty, to the point of laying down your life for a friend, are some of the most important gifts there are. Ultimately, it’s about the struggle between Good and Evil, as any good fairy tale, and in the final book, there is an Armageddon-type battle between the two forces. Seemingly bad people turn out good. Nobody is perfect, but they all have their stories, and knowing their stories helps you understand who they are and why they are the way they are, and elicits sometimes reluctant compassion toward them. The story is very dark in places, as you’ve most likely heard, as Evil gets a foothold on the world for awhile and it seems very likely that Evil will dominate and win. As is painfully true in our own world, the fight for Good to win involves sacrifice, losses, and an ongoing commitment to keep fighting for what you believe in even when it looks like the world is coming to an end and Good is losing. The darkest parts of Harry’s story are simply as dark as our own reality. Harry, in the end, is a Christ-like figure, whose greatest power is not magic, but his ability to love. And it is that relentless power to love and purity of heart that defeats evil in the end.
I’ll miss Harry. There are few books of fiction that compare to Rowling’s level of writing. She is simply brilliant. But Harry gave me something to share with my daughter as she grows into adolescence. He’s given us something to talk about together, care about together, wonder about together, and journey with together through our own dark and difficult times in this post-9/11 world. And he has let us ride off on a broom with him for many hours at a time, step back, and remember that God reminds us that the world may seem dark, but Love as we’ve seen it in Jesus Christ-God Incarnate, is the only thing worth fighting for and hoping in. The Kingdom of God, Jesus promises, will come in the end. Love will win in the end. Good will triumph at last. And in that day, when there are no more tears, no more death, no more wars, no more terror, no more blatant evil and chaos, we can say, finally, “all is well.” And it will be. Jesus said so.
Monday, July 16, 2007
God's Neighborhood
“GOD’S NEIGHBORHOOD”
Text: Luke 10:25-38
Faith United
July 15, 2007
Well, this is about the time you might decide
to go to sleep or turn off your brain—zone out
Ah, Good Samaritan,
I know that one… I know how it ends
Everybody knows THAT story
You don’t even have to go to church
to know that story
The bad guy turns out to be the hero
Typical Jesus story
The person you least suspect
or the person you least like
turns out to be the good one
And the preacher will make a point
that you gotta love the ones you don’t like
It can be called the Good Iraqi,
The Good Homosexual, The Good Homeless Person
The Good Teenager Who Had an Abortion
You pick it
It’s the same story
Blah blah blah …
Another lesson in Jesus’ impossible teachings….
I’m not fond of this story
It’s a great Chicken Soup for the Soul story,
but it doesn’t move me
because it’s just too familiar
What does it have to do with real life?
Well, first of all, let’s ditch the title
There is no title to the story
when Jesus tells it
Jesus does not start off saying,
“I’m going to tell you the Good Samaritan story”
Someone else put the title in
and it stuck
The story is actually about a lawyer who comes to Jesus
You know the type
The kid in school who wanted to get As in everything
So he always did extra credit
always raised his hand in class
always had the right answer
Even though he was already getting an A,
He did all the essay questions at the end of the test
that gave him bonus points
So he could get an A-PLUS
Didn’t you hate that kid?
Well, our lawyer friend here is kind of like that
Tell me, Jesus, what can I do to get eternal life?
What can I do to get the grand prize?
To get the best grade in the class?
If I were Jesus,
I would’ve questioned his motives
I would have said, that’s not the point
You’re asking the wrong question
But Jesus wasn’t like that
Maybe inside he was rolling his eyes,
but outside, he said, ok…
What does it say in the law?
The lawyer was so excited
He knew the answer, he could impress the teacher
“I know that one! Love God with all your heart, mind, soul
and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”
Bingo!
Jesus smiled
“Yep, good answer. You got that right. Do it,
and you’ll be fine.”
Yeah, ok, the lawyer says,
I got that part,
but the part I’m stuck on is uh… well,
Who exactly is my neighbor?
Who do I have to be nice to?
I mean, you know, there’s some real jerks in this world
and there’s just some people I can’t stand, really,
so, who exactly would you say is technically my neighbor?
HMMM?
Again, Jesus refrains from rolling his eyes
“Ok, “ he said, “let me tell you a story.”
And at this point,
maybe the lawyer rolled HIS eyes
Looked at his watch, and thought, man, c’mon,
I just need an answer, I gotta get going…
Just give me the answer….
But instead, he sighed and listened as Jesus went on with the story
Maybe the lawyer laughed when Jesus got to the part
where the preacher and the Christian College professor
took one look at the guy in the ditch
and self-consciously cleared their throats
and pretended they didn’t see him
Conveniently shuffled over to the opposite sides of the street
Yeah, those preachers,
All talk and no action,
I got you, Jesus, they’re paid to be good
Just a bunch of hot air, those preachers…
They don’t have a clue, yeah, I get it….
Then Jesus talks about the Samaritan man
Which, I guess, would be to us,
Like Jesus mentioning an Iraqi or Iranian
Any Middle-Eastern person, for that matter,
especially a middle-Easterner who is a Muslim
The lawyer starts to get uncomfortable
As Jesus goes on with the details of the story
Perhaps he’s thinking to himself,
Yeah, liberal preacher, probably a Democrat
That’s why he tells the story that way …
And Jesus says at the end of the story
“Which of the three: the preacher, the Christian College professor,
or the middle eastern Muslim;
which of those three proved to be a good neighbor?’’
And the lawyer quietly says,
“The one who showed mercy.”
Go and do the same, Jesus said
But I expect by that time, the lawyer had lost all respect
for Jesus
deduced that he was just one of those radical liberals
with an agenda
and so he decided he didn’t need to take
Jesus seriously
It’s just another story, right?
It’s just another one of those impossible teachings
of Jesus,
And since it’s impossible to live up to,
then we can just ignore it..
The Samaritan was not necessarily good
He was good that day
He did what Jesus tells us to do
In that moment he was an example of Jesus’ teachings
We don’t know if he was good or not
That’s not the point
Peter Arnett, a reporter who used to be a commentator on CNN,
Once told a story
about a time he was in Israel, in a small town on the West Bank
A bomb went off
He saw bodies blown through the air
He saw the horror, the blood, the desperation and destruction
the chaos
He heard the screams of the wounded
Suddenly a man came running up to him
holding a bloodied girl in his arms
he pleaded with Arnett,
“please, mister, I can’t get her to a hospital!
The Israeli troops have sealed off the area
No one can get in or out, but you’re press
You can get through, they’ll let you through
Please help me get her to a hospital
If you don’t help me, she’ll die!”
Arnett told how he and the stranger put the girl in the car
got through the sealed area
and rushed the girl to a hospital in Jerusalem
The whole time they were hurtling through the streets
the man in the back seat, holding the girl,
kept pleading, “Can’t you go faster??
Please, we’re losing her! We’re losing her!”
When they finally got to the hospital,
the girl was rushed to the operating room
The two men were directed to the waiting room
and sat on the bench
Arnett tells of how he and the man just sat there in silence
too exhausted to even talk
After a short time, the doctor came out
And grimly told them, “she’s gone.”
The stranger collapsed in tears
while Arnett put his arms around him to comfort him
and said, “I don’t know what to say,
I can’t imagine what you’re going through.
I’ve never lost a child.”
The man stopped sobbing for a moment
and looked up at Arnett,
looking a bit startled
He said, “Mister, that Palestinian girl was not my daughter.
I’m an Israeli settler.
That Palestinian girl is not mine…
But sir,” he said,
“there comes a time when each of us
must realize that every child,
regardless of that child’s background,
is a daughter or a son.
We must begin to realize that we are all family….”
One of my favorite Christian writers and preachers
is Frederick Buechner
and Buechner says that we should keep track of the times
in our lives that bring tears to our eyes
The times that break through the hardness
and cause us to weep
Remember those times and places where you weep, he says,
And you will see the places in your life
where God is getting through to you….
We can be so hardened by life
You see the caregiver of someone with Alzheimer’s
Or someone who works hospice
Or in the trauma center of a hospital
And maybe they’ve developed thick skin
in order to do their job day after day without collapsing
Or maybe we get hardened because it just hurts too much to care
We’ve been at war for 4 years
We can’t stop the war
We can’t stop the chaos
We can’t cure cancer or AIDS
We don’t have all the answers to make everything better
and if we allow ourselves to care
to weep for the pain of the world,
we might be afraid that we’ll never stop crying
The lawyer wanted the answer from Jesus
Just tell me the right answer
tell me how I can inherit eternal life
Give me the answer, so I can go on
knowing that I’m ok
But to Jesus eternal life is not some pie in the sky reward
It’s not the goal
The goal of all of Jesus teachings ‘
is not simply to get into heaven
Do this or do that or don’t do that
and you’ll get on God’s good side
You’ll avoid the eternal flames of hell
To Jesus eternal life is something that starts NOW
It’s about being a part of God’s Kingdom NOW
as well as for all eternity
It’s about knowing the depth and breadth of God’s grace
of God’s love and peace and joy
even as we walk the lonesome valleys of this world
It’s about knowing the beauty of God’s spirit
of catching glimpses of heaven here and there
every day
Of sharing that beauty with others who get it
of knowing that special bond with people
who are also seeking God’s kingdom
It’s about the spirit that we share here together
Or in the fellowship hall
Or in the hospital room
Or at the graveside
It’s about the life that goes beyond this life
It’s about living with the vision of God’s Kingdom
always shining in our eyes
and giving us the strength and the hope
and the love to carry on
Even as war rages on
Even as we get a devastating prognosis
Even as we lose someone we can’t live without
Even if we don’t have all the right answers
What are those times in your life
that brings you to tears?
Whether its tears of joy or tears of sorrow?
Those are the moments when God gets through to us
Because if we’ve forgotten how to weep
we have forgotten how to feel, how to care
how to be connected
There’s no formula for eternal life
there’s no easy answers as to how to be the kind of person
Jesus wants us to be
You can’t just follow instructions
You have to follow JESUS,
and allow him to slowly transform your heart
and mind and soul
You may notice that compassionate people
tend to be the ones who have been there
People who have scars
People who have bled
People who have hit rock bottom
and who have been the recipients of mercy
and grace
When I’m the person laying in that ditch
bloody and beaten down by life
I don’t want someone who has all the answers to come
and help me
I want someone who’s been in the ditch themselves
I want someone who doesn’t know exactly
why we get beaten up,
why God lets us bleed sometimes
and why we sometimes find ourselves
face down in the ditch
I want someone who will hold my hand
let me weep
and not leave me alone through the night
someone who will remind me that God is with me
even in the bloody ditch
Someone told me the story of a little boy
at the end of Vacation Bible School
He’d made his mother a little ceramic tray
He’d worked on it all week
and he couldn’t wait to give it to her
So he ran down the hallway
when she came to pick him up that last day
and while he was running, he bumped into another little kid
and the ceramic tray went flying
It shattered into a million pieces on the floor
All the teachers and helpers
tried to console the little boy as he sobbed
over the shattered gift
the thing he’d wanted to give his mom
It was gone
Finally, his mother got to him
and put her arms around the crying boy
She said, “It’s ok. Let’s pick up all the pieces
and take them home.
We’ll put them together
and see what we can make out of it.”
And this person said to me
that God is like that mother,
God comes to us and takes up the offering
of our broken lives
and says to us, “let’s pick up the pieces
and work together
and see what we can make out of them.”
I understand the lawyer
I want all the answers
I want to know why…
I want it to all be rational and workable and
I want all the brokenness to be fix-able
But we know, don’t we,
that sometimes life can’t be fixed
sometimes we don’t have the answers to all the questions
Jesus’ teachings are hard
Impossible even, we can’t do it
We can’t love our enemies
We can’t strive for peace
We can’t love the people we don’t like
We can’t do all the radical things
Jesus calls us to – it’s IMPOSSIBLE
So I think we’re kind of like that poor guy
laying in the ditch, beaten and bloodied
We can’t help ourselves
We can’t get ourselves out of the ditch
and save our own lives
We have to admit
that we are powerless on our own
that the only way we can get a glimpse
A taste of the sweetness and depth and beauty
of God’s eternal life
of the life that begins right now
and will carry us through forever…
The only way we can even begin to see it
and to live it
is to let God have the pieces of our crazy, broken lives
All we can do, every day,
is to put those pieces in God’s hands
and say, “help. I can’t do it without you.”
And God in his radical, impossible mercy
recieves us, receives our broken offerings
and says, “let’s see what we can do
Let’s get together and see what we can make out of this.”
Because you know, in God’s neighborhood
All things are possible
All things are beautiful….
eternally beautiful.
Text: Luke 10:25-38
Faith United
July 15, 2007
Well, this is about the time you might decide
to go to sleep or turn off your brain—zone out
Ah, Good Samaritan,
I know that one… I know how it ends
Everybody knows THAT story
You don’t even have to go to church
to know that story
The bad guy turns out to be the hero
Typical Jesus story
The person you least suspect
or the person you least like
turns out to be the good one
And the preacher will make a point
that you gotta love the ones you don’t like
It can be called the Good Iraqi,
The Good Homosexual, The Good Homeless Person
The Good Teenager Who Had an Abortion
You pick it
It’s the same story
Blah blah blah …
Another lesson in Jesus’ impossible teachings….
I’m not fond of this story
It’s a great Chicken Soup for the Soul story,
but it doesn’t move me
because it’s just too familiar
What does it have to do with real life?
Well, first of all, let’s ditch the title
There is no title to the story
when Jesus tells it
Jesus does not start off saying,
“I’m going to tell you the Good Samaritan story”
Someone else put the title in
and it stuck
The story is actually about a lawyer who comes to Jesus
You know the type
The kid in school who wanted to get As in everything
So he always did extra credit
always raised his hand in class
always had the right answer
Even though he was already getting an A,
He did all the essay questions at the end of the test
that gave him bonus points
So he could get an A-PLUS
Didn’t you hate that kid?
Well, our lawyer friend here is kind of like that
Tell me, Jesus, what can I do to get eternal life?
What can I do to get the grand prize?
To get the best grade in the class?
If I were Jesus,
I would’ve questioned his motives
I would have said, that’s not the point
You’re asking the wrong question
But Jesus wasn’t like that
Maybe inside he was rolling his eyes,
but outside, he said, ok…
What does it say in the law?
The lawyer was so excited
He knew the answer, he could impress the teacher
“I know that one! Love God with all your heart, mind, soul
and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”
Bingo!
Jesus smiled
“Yep, good answer. You got that right. Do it,
and you’ll be fine.”
Yeah, ok, the lawyer says,
I got that part,
but the part I’m stuck on is uh… well,
Who exactly is my neighbor?
Who do I have to be nice to?
I mean, you know, there’s some real jerks in this world
and there’s just some people I can’t stand, really,
so, who exactly would you say is technically my neighbor?
HMMM?
Again, Jesus refrains from rolling his eyes
“Ok, “ he said, “let me tell you a story.”
And at this point,
maybe the lawyer rolled HIS eyes
Looked at his watch, and thought, man, c’mon,
I just need an answer, I gotta get going…
Just give me the answer….
But instead, he sighed and listened as Jesus went on with the story
Maybe the lawyer laughed when Jesus got to the part
where the preacher and the Christian College professor
took one look at the guy in the ditch
and self-consciously cleared their throats
and pretended they didn’t see him
Conveniently shuffled over to the opposite sides of the street
Yeah, those preachers,
All talk and no action,
I got you, Jesus, they’re paid to be good
Just a bunch of hot air, those preachers…
They don’t have a clue, yeah, I get it….
Then Jesus talks about the Samaritan man
Which, I guess, would be to us,
Like Jesus mentioning an Iraqi or Iranian
Any Middle-Eastern person, for that matter,
especially a middle-Easterner who is a Muslim
The lawyer starts to get uncomfortable
As Jesus goes on with the details of the story
Perhaps he’s thinking to himself,
Yeah, liberal preacher, probably a Democrat
That’s why he tells the story that way …
And Jesus says at the end of the story
“Which of the three: the preacher, the Christian College professor,
or the middle eastern Muslim;
which of those three proved to be a good neighbor?’’
And the lawyer quietly says,
“The one who showed mercy.”
Go and do the same, Jesus said
But I expect by that time, the lawyer had lost all respect
for Jesus
deduced that he was just one of those radical liberals
with an agenda
and so he decided he didn’t need to take
Jesus seriously
It’s just another story, right?
It’s just another one of those impossible teachings
of Jesus,
And since it’s impossible to live up to,
then we can just ignore it..
The Samaritan was not necessarily good
He was good that day
He did what Jesus tells us to do
In that moment he was an example of Jesus’ teachings
We don’t know if he was good or not
That’s not the point
Peter Arnett, a reporter who used to be a commentator on CNN,
Once told a story
about a time he was in Israel, in a small town on the West Bank
A bomb went off
He saw bodies blown through the air
He saw the horror, the blood, the desperation and destruction
the chaos
He heard the screams of the wounded
Suddenly a man came running up to him
holding a bloodied girl in his arms
he pleaded with Arnett,
“please, mister, I can’t get her to a hospital!
The Israeli troops have sealed off the area
No one can get in or out, but you’re press
You can get through, they’ll let you through
Please help me get her to a hospital
If you don’t help me, she’ll die!”
Arnett told how he and the stranger put the girl in the car
got through the sealed area
and rushed the girl to a hospital in Jerusalem
The whole time they were hurtling through the streets
the man in the back seat, holding the girl,
kept pleading, “Can’t you go faster??
Please, we’re losing her! We’re losing her!”
When they finally got to the hospital,
the girl was rushed to the operating room
The two men were directed to the waiting room
and sat on the bench
Arnett tells of how he and the man just sat there in silence
too exhausted to even talk
After a short time, the doctor came out
And grimly told them, “she’s gone.”
The stranger collapsed in tears
while Arnett put his arms around him to comfort him
and said, “I don’t know what to say,
I can’t imagine what you’re going through.
I’ve never lost a child.”
The man stopped sobbing for a moment
and looked up at Arnett,
looking a bit startled
He said, “Mister, that Palestinian girl was not my daughter.
I’m an Israeli settler.
That Palestinian girl is not mine…
But sir,” he said,
“there comes a time when each of us
must realize that every child,
regardless of that child’s background,
is a daughter or a son.
We must begin to realize that we are all family….”
One of my favorite Christian writers and preachers
is Frederick Buechner
and Buechner says that we should keep track of the times
in our lives that bring tears to our eyes
The times that break through the hardness
and cause us to weep
Remember those times and places where you weep, he says,
And you will see the places in your life
where God is getting through to you….
We can be so hardened by life
You see the caregiver of someone with Alzheimer’s
Or someone who works hospice
Or in the trauma center of a hospital
And maybe they’ve developed thick skin
in order to do their job day after day without collapsing
Or maybe we get hardened because it just hurts too much to care
We’ve been at war for 4 years
We can’t stop the war
We can’t stop the chaos
We can’t cure cancer or AIDS
We don’t have all the answers to make everything better
and if we allow ourselves to care
to weep for the pain of the world,
we might be afraid that we’ll never stop crying
The lawyer wanted the answer from Jesus
Just tell me the right answer
tell me how I can inherit eternal life
Give me the answer, so I can go on
knowing that I’m ok
But to Jesus eternal life is not some pie in the sky reward
It’s not the goal
The goal of all of Jesus teachings ‘
is not simply to get into heaven
Do this or do that or don’t do that
and you’ll get on God’s good side
You’ll avoid the eternal flames of hell
To Jesus eternal life is something that starts NOW
It’s about being a part of God’s Kingdom NOW
as well as for all eternity
It’s about knowing the depth and breadth of God’s grace
of God’s love and peace and joy
even as we walk the lonesome valleys of this world
It’s about knowing the beauty of God’s spirit
of catching glimpses of heaven here and there
every day
Of sharing that beauty with others who get it
of knowing that special bond with people
who are also seeking God’s kingdom
It’s about the spirit that we share here together
Or in the fellowship hall
Or in the hospital room
Or at the graveside
It’s about the life that goes beyond this life
It’s about living with the vision of God’s Kingdom
always shining in our eyes
and giving us the strength and the hope
and the love to carry on
Even as war rages on
Even as we get a devastating prognosis
Even as we lose someone we can’t live without
Even if we don’t have all the right answers
What are those times in your life
that brings you to tears?
Whether its tears of joy or tears of sorrow?
Those are the moments when God gets through to us
Because if we’ve forgotten how to weep
we have forgotten how to feel, how to care
how to be connected
There’s no formula for eternal life
there’s no easy answers as to how to be the kind of person
Jesus wants us to be
You can’t just follow instructions
You have to follow JESUS,
and allow him to slowly transform your heart
and mind and soul
You may notice that compassionate people
tend to be the ones who have been there
People who have scars
People who have bled
People who have hit rock bottom
and who have been the recipients of mercy
and grace
When I’m the person laying in that ditch
bloody and beaten down by life
I don’t want someone who has all the answers to come
and help me
I want someone who’s been in the ditch themselves
I want someone who doesn’t know exactly
why we get beaten up,
why God lets us bleed sometimes
and why we sometimes find ourselves
face down in the ditch
I want someone who will hold my hand
let me weep
and not leave me alone through the night
someone who will remind me that God is with me
even in the bloody ditch
Someone told me the story of a little boy
at the end of Vacation Bible School
He’d made his mother a little ceramic tray
He’d worked on it all week
and he couldn’t wait to give it to her
So he ran down the hallway
when she came to pick him up that last day
and while he was running, he bumped into another little kid
and the ceramic tray went flying
It shattered into a million pieces on the floor
All the teachers and helpers
tried to console the little boy as he sobbed
over the shattered gift
the thing he’d wanted to give his mom
It was gone
Finally, his mother got to him
and put her arms around the crying boy
She said, “It’s ok. Let’s pick up all the pieces
and take them home.
We’ll put them together
and see what we can make out of it.”
And this person said to me
that God is like that mother,
God comes to us and takes up the offering
of our broken lives
and says to us, “let’s pick up the pieces
and work together
and see what we can make out of them.”
I understand the lawyer
I want all the answers
I want to know why…
I want it to all be rational and workable and
I want all the brokenness to be fix-able
But we know, don’t we,
that sometimes life can’t be fixed
sometimes we don’t have the answers to all the questions
Jesus’ teachings are hard
Impossible even, we can’t do it
We can’t love our enemies
We can’t strive for peace
We can’t love the people we don’t like
We can’t do all the radical things
Jesus calls us to – it’s IMPOSSIBLE
So I think we’re kind of like that poor guy
laying in the ditch, beaten and bloodied
We can’t help ourselves
We can’t get ourselves out of the ditch
and save our own lives
We have to admit
that we are powerless on our own
that the only way we can get a glimpse
A taste of the sweetness and depth and beauty
of God’s eternal life
of the life that begins right now
and will carry us through forever…
The only way we can even begin to see it
and to live it
is to let God have the pieces of our crazy, broken lives
All we can do, every day,
is to put those pieces in God’s hands
and say, “help. I can’t do it without you.”
And God in his radical, impossible mercy
recieves us, receives our broken offerings
and says, “let’s see what we can do
Let’s get together and see what we can make out of this.”
Because you know, in God’s neighborhood
All things are possible
All things are beautiful….
eternally beautiful.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
There Came a Sound
“THERE CAME A SOUND”
Text: Acts 2:1-21
Faith United
Confirmation Sunday
June 3, 2007
I am not, nor have I ever been
a big sports fan
I mean, I don’t hate sports, I enjoy local sports
especially when I know the team members
or back East I enjoyed going to minor league baseball games
But I’m not one to keep up with a certain team
and get excited about who wins or loses --
with one exception
In 1992, we were living in Ceresco, Nebraska
and some members of the church there
offered to take us to the Nebraska football game
against Kansas State
Being a good seminary student at the time,
I knew it’s good to get the know the culture you’re living
and working in, and I knew already
that Husker football was important
So we went
We had great seats behind one of the field goals
but I do remember walking toward the stadium
wearing my obligatory red shirt
and seeing this mass of people
that would gather in one place and make up
the third largest city in Nebraska, as I was told
This mass of people, all wearing red
all gathering from different corners of the state
for this event
It was really cool
but being in the stadium, amidst a sea of red
cheering, feeling the tension building
as the game was close right down to the wire
and then experiencing the thrill of that last field goal
in the last seconds of the game
that won it for Nebraska
I was converted.
I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself
because I was there, I was wearing red
I was cheering with thousands of other people
and celebrating the victory
After that I dutifully watched all the Husker games on TV
celebrated the National Championships they won
proudly wore my Nebraska shirts and sweatshirts
mourned with the little old ladies I visited
the year that Tom Osborne retired
When we lived in Pennsylvania for 6 years,
we still wore our Husker red
iIn Penn State territory
to mark ourselves as different
plus it helped me feel connected to Nebraska
We were stupid enough, however, to go to the Nebraska- Penn State game
the year that Penn State crushed Nebraska
That day, I was comforted by the patches of red
across the stadium
amidst the blue
And when we had to leave because of a real threat
to anyone wearing red,
I was comforted to see others in red,
leaving for safety reasons
We were connected by the colors we wore
The red sweater I wore that day
still reminds me of the very real fear I had
for our safety that day
Red is risky
Red is the highest alert for our Homeland Security System
Picking up my parents at the airport last week,
we were reminded periodically by an automated voice
that the current threat level is orange
as it has been for some time
So we don’t even pay attention to it most of the time
But we know if it ever moves up to Red
It’s time to be on the alert
to know that there is severe risk
There was an incredible tension in the air
the place was buzzing
It was like United Nations Day In Jerusalem
People from all over the known world
gathering for the annual Festival of Weeks
the time when all good Jews gathered
traveled to the temple to celebrate the harvest
to give back to God in proportion to God’s great blessings
in their lives
It was also a time to celebrate the giving of the Law at Mt. Sinai
when God appeared to Moses to give him the Ten Commandments
the laws that are the foundation of the faith
The Romans hated it when the Jews partied in the city
there was threat of riots and chaos
there was very real danger
getting that many people together in one place
emotions got stirred up
and people do crazy things when that happens
So the Romans increased security during the Festival Days
put out more armed guards
who were hypersensitive to any threat of danger
or revolt
You just never know about these religious people
and what they’ll do
so the city was on high alert
The followers of Jesus were laying low
They probably had plans to go to the Temple later
for the celebrations,
but they planned on being low key about it
they couldn’t draw attention to themselves
as followers of Jesus
because a lot of people hated them
So they were gathered in one place
A familiar place, perhaps the room where they’d gathered with Jesus
a pace that felt safe
where they were all together with people who loved Jesus too
They felt the tension of the city permeate the room
They felt the tension of not knowing where their lives were headed
What was that promise that Jesus made?
What were they waiting for exactly??
Would they know it when they saw it?
What would it do to their lives?
How would they have to adjust??
Were they up to it?
And then suddenly in the midst of them
there was roar
that filled the place where they were sitting
They looked around in panic
to each other, to make sure they all heard it
A deafening roar
that resounded in their chests
that sounded like the roar of a mighty wind
and yet they were inside, away from the wind
They heard it, but couldn’t SEE any evidence of it
They were scared to death, all of them,
and yet they weren’t alone, they had each other
And that’s when the fire started….
tongues of fire danced among them, it was really bizarre
And they they all started talking at once,
like they’d all had several cans of Mountain Dew
But they didn’t know what they were saying
they couldn’t understand the words that came out of their mouths
and that really scared them
The roar was increased by the growing volume of voices
of all of them, speaking, non-stop, in foreign languages
Something inside of them made them move
get up, go outside, and they poured out into the streets
as one body, one mass of confusion
like a modern day Tower of Babel
And the people in the streets turned to listen to the roar of voices
people who couldn’t speak the local language
heard their own language coming out of these locals
these farmers and fishermen and tax collectors
and women
Suddenly a great buzz swept across the masses in the streets
and the tension built
There were no translaters
no multi-lingual people – at least until that moment
yevery person—every foreigner, immigrant
and local person heard the messages
and every person understood what was being said
It was weird.
Really weird.
Some were blown away,
some said, augh, they’re drunk…
But I don’t know, I’ve been around drunk people
and I never heard them start speaking languages
that they didn’t know before….
Then Peter got up
in the midst of the mayhem
grabbed a microphone and said, “hey, guys, listen up!
EVERYONE! ALL OF YOU! LISTEN!!
We’re not drunk!
Something crazy is going on,
and it’s what God promised….”
And he quoted the ancient scriptures from the Prophet Joel
everybody who was anybody religious
knew those scriptures
but TODAY, in the midst of the babble of voices
the scriptures took on new meaning
And Peter, not one previously known as an eloquent speaker
preached a sermon that blew them all away
“This, “ he said, “this is what God promised us..
this is what the prophet was talking about… the miracle
when all God’s people would be blown away
by the very spirit of God…”
Everybody.
Doesn’t matter how much money you make
Doesn’t matter what you do for a living
or how much or how little education you’ve had
It doesn’t matter if you have a disability
mental, physical, emotional or spiritual
It doesn’t matter if you are big or small
male or female,
rich or poor,
clean or dirty,
talented or not so much
awkward or elegant,
It doesn’t matter…
The gift of this day is for all God’s people
ALL of God’s people
everyone that God has made …
We live in confusing times
times where we argue
about what to do with people
who come into our country from other places
to look for a better life
Legal immigrants are struggling to become citizens
against great odds
iIllegal immigrants are trying to find a life
natural born citizens don’t want to be separated
from their parents
It’s crazy.
There’s a lot of tension
As Americans, we live amidst great diversity
We sometimes celebrate that diversity
We argue about whether or not everyone should speak one language
or whether it’s our responsibility to learn other languages
and other cultures, so that we can communicate
to those who are different among us
But the tension of diversity is not a new thing
certainly not a 21st century ideal
It goes way back, to the day of Pentecost
God wanted EVERYONE to understand what God had to say
so the great miracle, the greatest miracle of Pentecost
is simply that everybody understood each other
no one was left out
no one
God accommodated everyone, so that everyone could share in the gift
Not just white people
Not just middle class people
Not just English speaking people
but all God’s children were invited to the party that day
Toni Morrison,
an African American writer
once said, “If you surrender to the air,
you could ride it.”
Pentecost is about surrendering to the air,
to the mighty wind of God’s Spirit
“Surrender” sounds negative to us
it sounds like giving up
But to surrender means to surrender CONTROL
to give that control of our lives, of our world,
of everything, to God
And we have to do that every day – sometimes many times!--
because we don’t like letting go of the wheel
The color of Pentecost is RED
It’s the only day of the year that we have red
on the altar, on this pulpit
because red symbolizes the fire of Pentecost, the flames
that danced amidst the confused disciples
the fire that gave them power, gave them life and passion
to surrender to God’s power, to let God do amazing things among them
But Red also symbolizes severe risk
and that’s very appropriate
Surrendering your life to God is a severe risk
You don’t know what God is going to do with you
Confirmands,
I don’t know what’s going through your heads and hearts
I don’t what this day means to you
or what it will mean to you as you remember it
I can only tell you that today, you are being offered
an awesome gift
the chance to be a part of something bigger than yourself
Today you are marked as God’s people, God’s children
God’s Spirit has been working in your lives
since the day you were born,
even when you weren’t aware of it
God has given you this community of faith
to love you, to celebrate you, to nurture you
to bring you to this moment
You may not feel all that impressive
You may not even think that God has anything special for you to do
and to be
When I was your age, I was such a dork
I was so painfully shy and awkward
I didn’t think I had anything special to offer
But I had the Church, I had my church family
who welcomed me as one of them, dork as I was
they let me be myself
they let me know that God loved me
that God wanted me
that God had special plans for me
as crazy and as far-fetched as that sounded at the time
Peter was a dork
He was always a troublemaker, always giving Jesus headaches
Peter was awkward, he didn’t have great social skills
he was a diamond in the rough
and he was very rough!
But when the Holy Spirit got a hold of him
He blew everybody away
they didn’t recognize him
as he took the pulpit and preached a sermon
that stirred up the hearts of thousands of people
That crazy dork Peter became the pillar, the rock
of Jesus’ new church
Who da thunk??
Go figure.
That crazy God does amazing work
It’s risky… severely risky
agreeing to surrender to God’s holy spirit in your life
it’s sometimes terrifyingly risky
because you give up the control
you let God take you where God wants
you let God make you into the people that God wants you to be
And to live by the Spirit
is often to live at odds with the rest of the world
People may think you’re drunk or crazy or a dork
but today, you are marked
with the color of red
you are marked as God’s chosen people
chosen to spread the word, to live lives
that reflect the grace and transforming love of God
in Jesus Christ
If you choose to accept this assignment
you will be blown away many times
but you will belong to the most powerful movement on earth
empowered by the holy spirit of God
who makes all things new
Peter got up and interpreted the ancient words of Scripture
and in light of Pentecost, those ancient words became new
God’s Word is new every day
because God’s holy spirit is still very much alive
and working among us and in us, here and now
Old things will be made new, old words will be refreshed
old rituals come to life again in a new way
through new people, new faces,
in brand new ways
It can be terrifying
but it is also exhilarating
and you get to share it with very precious holy people
of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, languages,
of all amazing varieties of God’s creative work in creation
You are invited today
No one is left out
and it is up to you whether or not you want the gift
If you choose to accept this assignment
you will be changed
you will see miracles, big and small
you will taste the sweet, delicious flavor of a life
touched by the holy spirit of God
We are all guests at God’s party
where God’s outlandish and wildly generous love is unleashed
on all humankind
Do not be afraid
You are being invited to Life--
abundant and delicious and eternal
life in God
Welcome
Text: Acts 2:1-21
Faith United
Confirmation Sunday
June 3, 2007
I am not, nor have I ever been
a big sports fan
I mean, I don’t hate sports, I enjoy local sports
especially when I know the team members
or back East I enjoyed going to minor league baseball games
But I’m not one to keep up with a certain team
and get excited about who wins or loses --
with one exception
In 1992, we were living in Ceresco, Nebraska
and some members of the church there
offered to take us to the Nebraska football game
against Kansas State
Being a good seminary student at the time,
I knew it’s good to get the know the culture you’re living
and working in, and I knew already
that Husker football was important
So we went
We had great seats behind one of the field goals
but I do remember walking toward the stadium
wearing my obligatory red shirt
and seeing this mass of people
that would gather in one place and make up
the third largest city in Nebraska, as I was told
This mass of people, all wearing red
all gathering from different corners of the state
for this event
It was really cool
but being in the stadium, amidst a sea of red
cheering, feeling the tension building
as the game was close right down to the wire
and then experiencing the thrill of that last field goal
in the last seconds of the game
that won it for Nebraska
I was converted.
I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself
because I was there, I was wearing red
I was cheering with thousands of other people
and celebrating the victory
After that I dutifully watched all the Husker games on TV
celebrated the National Championships they won
proudly wore my Nebraska shirts and sweatshirts
mourned with the little old ladies I visited
the year that Tom Osborne retired
When we lived in Pennsylvania for 6 years,
we still wore our Husker red
iIn Penn State territory
to mark ourselves as different
plus it helped me feel connected to Nebraska
We were stupid enough, however, to go to the Nebraska- Penn State game
the year that Penn State crushed Nebraska
That day, I was comforted by the patches of red
across the stadium
amidst the blue
And when we had to leave because of a real threat
to anyone wearing red,
I was comforted to see others in red,
leaving for safety reasons
We were connected by the colors we wore
The red sweater I wore that day
still reminds me of the very real fear I had
for our safety that day
Red is risky
Red is the highest alert for our Homeland Security System
Picking up my parents at the airport last week,
we were reminded periodically by an automated voice
that the current threat level is orange
as it has been for some time
So we don’t even pay attention to it most of the time
But we know if it ever moves up to Red
It’s time to be on the alert
to know that there is severe risk
There was an incredible tension in the air
the place was buzzing
It was like United Nations Day In Jerusalem
People from all over the known world
gathering for the annual Festival of Weeks
the time when all good Jews gathered
traveled to the temple to celebrate the harvest
to give back to God in proportion to God’s great blessings
in their lives
It was also a time to celebrate the giving of the Law at Mt. Sinai
when God appeared to Moses to give him the Ten Commandments
the laws that are the foundation of the faith
The Romans hated it when the Jews partied in the city
there was threat of riots and chaos
there was very real danger
getting that many people together in one place
emotions got stirred up
and people do crazy things when that happens
So the Romans increased security during the Festival Days
put out more armed guards
who were hypersensitive to any threat of danger
or revolt
You just never know about these religious people
and what they’ll do
so the city was on high alert
The followers of Jesus were laying low
They probably had plans to go to the Temple later
for the celebrations,
but they planned on being low key about it
they couldn’t draw attention to themselves
as followers of Jesus
because a lot of people hated them
So they were gathered in one place
A familiar place, perhaps the room where they’d gathered with Jesus
a pace that felt safe
where they were all together with people who loved Jesus too
They felt the tension of the city permeate the room
They felt the tension of not knowing where their lives were headed
What was that promise that Jesus made?
What were they waiting for exactly??
Would they know it when they saw it?
What would it do to their lives?
How would they have to adjust??
Were they up to it?
And then suddenly in the midst of them
there was roar
that filled the place where they were sitting
They looked around in panic
to each other, to make sure they all heard it
A deafening roar
that resounded in their chests
that sounded like the roar of a mighty wind
and yet they were inside, away from the wind
They heard it, but couldn’t SEE any evidence of it
They were scared to death, all of them,
and yet they weren’t alone, they had each other
And that’s when the fire started….
tongues of fire danced among them, it was really bizarre
And they they all started talking at once,
like they’d all had several cans of Mountain Dew
But they didn’t know what they were saying
they couldn’t understand the words that came out of their mouths
and that really scared them
The roar was increased by the growing volume of voices
of all of them, speaking, non-stop, in foreign languages
Something inside of them made them move
get up, go outside, and they poured out into the streets
as one body, one mass of confusion
like a modern day Tower of Babel
And the people in the streets turned to listen to the roar of voices
people who couldn’t speak the local language
heard their own language coming out of these locals
these farmers and fishermen and tax collectors
and women
Suddenly a great buzz swept across the masses in the streets
and the tension built
There were no translaters
no multi-lingual people – at least until that moment
yevery person—every foreigner, immigrant
and local person heard the messages
and every person understood what was being said
It was weird.
Really weird.
Some were blown away,
some said, augh, they’re drunk…
But I don’t know, I’ve been around drunk people
and I never heard them start speaking languages
that they didn’t know before….
Then Peter got up
in the midst of the mayhem
grabbed a microphone and said, “hey, guys, listen up!
EVERYONE! ALL OF YOU! LISTEN!!
We’re not drunk!
Something crazy is going on,
and it’s what God promised….”
And he quoted the ancient scriptures from the Prophet Joel
everybody who was anybody religious
knew those scriptures
but TODAY, in the midst of the babble of voices
the scriptures took on new meaning
And Peter, not one previously known as an eloquent speaker
preached a sermon that blew them all away
“This, “ he said, “this is what God promised us..
this is what the prophet was talking about… the miracle
when all God’s people would be blown away
by the very spirit of God…”
Everybody.
Doesn’t matter how much money you make
Doesn’t matter what you do for a living
or how much or how little education you’ve had
It doesn’t matter if you have a disability
mental, physical, emotional or spiritual
It doesn’t matter if you are big or small
male or female,
rich or poor,
clean or dirty,
talented or not so much
awkward or elegant,
It doesn’t matter…
The gift of this day is for all God’s people
ALL of God’s people
everyone that God has made …
We live in confusing times
times where we argue
about what to do with people
who come into our country from other places
to look for a better life
Legal immigrants are struggling to become citizens
against great odds
iIllegal immigrants are trying to find a life
natural born citizens don’t want to be separated
from their parents
It’s crazy.
There’s a lot of tension
As Americans, we live amidst great diversity
We sometimes celebrate that diversity
We argue about whether or not everyone should speak one language
or whether it’s our responsibility to learn other languages
and other cultures, so that we can communicate
to those who are different among us
But the tension of diversity is not a new thing
certainly not a 21st century ideal
It goes way back, to the day of Pentecost
God wanted EVERYONE to understand what God had to say
so the great miracle, the greatest miracle of Pentecost
is simply that everybody understood each other
no one was left out
no one
God accommodated everyone, so that everyone could share in the gift
Not just white people
Not just middle class people
Not just English speaking people
but all God’s children were invited to the party that day
Toni Morrison,
an African American writer
once said, “If you surrender to the air,
you could ride it.”
Pentecost is about surrendering to the air,
to the mighty wind of God’s Spirit
“Surrender” sounds negative to us
it sounds like giving up
But to surrender means to surrender CONTROL
to give that control of our lives, of our world,
of everything, to God
And we have to do that every day – sometimes many times!--
because we don’t like letting go of the wheel
The color of Pentecost is RED
It’s the only day of the year that we have red
on the altar, on this pulpit
because red symbolizes the fire of Pentecost, the flames
that danced amidst the confused disciples
the fire that gave them power, gave them life and passion
to surrender to God’s power, to let God do amazing things among them
But Red also symbolizes severe risk
and that’s very appropriate
Surrendering your life to God is a severe risk
You don’t know what God is going to do with you
Confirmands,
I don’t know what’s going through your heads and hearts
I don’t what this day means to you
or what it will mean to you as you remember it
I can only tell you that today, you are being offered
an awesome gift
the chance to be a part of something bigger than yourself
Today you are marked as God’s people, God’s children
God’s Spirit has been working in your lives
since the day you were born,
even when you weren’t aware of it
God has given you this community of faith
to love you, to celebrate you, to nurture you
to bring you to this moment
You may not feel all that impressive
You may not even think that God has anything special for you to do
and to be
When I was your age, I was such a dork
I was so painfully shy and awkward
I didn’t think I had anything special to offer
But I had the Church, I had my church family
who welcomed me as one of them, dork as I was
they let me be myself
they let me know that God loved me
that God wanted me
that God had special plans for me
as crazy and as far-fetched as that sounded at the time
Peter was a dork
He was always a troublemaker, always giving Jesus headaches
Peter was awkward, he didn’t have great social skills
he was a diamond in the rough
and he was very rough!
But when the Holy Spirit got a hold of him
He blew everybody away
they didn’t recognize him
as he took the pulpit and preached a sermon
that stirred up the hearts of thousands of people
That crazy dork Peter became the pillar, the rock
of Jesus’ new church
Who da thunk??
Go figure.
That crazy God does amazing work
It’s risky… severely risky
agreeing to surrender to God’s holy spirit in your life
it’s sometimes terrifyingly risky
because you give up the control
you let God take you where God wants
you let God make you into the people that God wants you to be
And to live by the Spirit
is often to live at odds with the rest of the world
People may think you’re drunk or crazy or a dork
but today, you are marked
with the color of red
you are marked as God’s chosen people
chosen to spread the word, to live lives
that reflect the grace and transforming love of God
in Jesus Christ
If you choose to accept this assignment
you will be blown away many times
but you will belong to the most powerful movement on earth
empowered by the holy spirit of God
who makes all things new
Peter got up and interpreted the ancient words of Scripture
and in light of Pentecost, those ancient words became new
God’s Word is new every day
because God’s holy spirit is still very much alive
and working among us and in us, here and now
Old things will be made new, old words will be refreshed
old rituals come to life again in a new way
through new people, new faces,
in brand new ways
It can be terrifying
but it is also exhilarating
and you get to share it with very precious holy people
of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, languages,
of all amazing varieties of God’s creative work in creation
You are invited today
No one is left out
and it is up to you whether or not you want the gift
If you choose to accept this assignment
you will be changed
you will see miracles, big and small
you will taste the sweet, delicious flavor of a life
touched by the holy spirit of God
We are all guests at God’s party
where God’s outlandish and wildly generous love is unleashed
on all humankind
Do not be afraid
You are being invited to Life--
abundant and delicious and eternal
life in God
Welcome
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
My Boys
We have three cats at our house. We didn’t intend to have three cats, it just worked out that way. I'd long since given up on having pets, because of too many losses on our busy street in New Jersey. In fact, as a young adult, I developed a pretty intense allergic reaction to cats . But on Halloween 2001, a parishioner put an adorable kitten in Sarah’s Halloween bucket when we went to their house. Sneaky, eh? At first, we politely gave him back. But after going home and thinking about it we decided Sarah needed a pet. We had fish, but she couldn't snuggle up with them very well, or play with them. We named our new caramel-colored kitty, Carmel. I took a lot of Benadryl for awhile, until suddenly, strangely, I wasn’t allergic to Carmel anymore.
Carmel has always been a little neurotic. When we first got him, he scratched me up pretty good whenever I tried to hold him. He'd climb over my shoulder and down my back, digging his nails into my skin like a rockclimber with spikes on his feet. He’s the one cat who runs as soon as the doorbell rings, and doesn’t come out until the company is gone. When we have people stay overnight, he lives under our bed and sneaks out during the night for the essentials. He doesn’t like to be picked up, but if you sit still awhile, he will come and settle on your lap. If you’re having a bad day, he’ll even come and snuggle up next to you and purr. He’s a great Comforter. He knows when you need a warm, fuzzy body on your chest. But the relationship is always on his terms.
A year later, we decided Carmel needed some company, especially when we were at work all day. So sure enough, his mother had had another litter, and we got Dobby (named after the house elf in Harry Potter). Carmel took to Dobby immediately, as if he knew they were half-brothers. (Their mother got around a lot) Dobby was so small at 6 weeks old, that we were afraid Carmel might eat him-- but he didn't.
Around the same time, Sarah was taking piano lessons from a woman in Tunkhannock, PA, who suddenly passed away. Jean had four cats. As an attempt to help Sarah with her first real loss of someone she loved, we asked to adopt one of Jean’s cats. Thus we got Scooter, a beautiful, long-haired black 6 year-old Persian cat with yellow-green eyes. Scooter wouldn’t have anything to do with us or the other cats at first. He hid behind the piano for months-- again, sneaking out at night for the essentials. We couldn’t coax him out for anything. We figured he’d just live behind the piano. Until the next spring of 2003, he got out of the house through an open window where the screen wasn’t in tightly. We were all heartbroken, because we couldn’t get him back in. Well, I secretly was relieved. His indifference to our kindness was annoying to me. But I acted like I was heartbroken, for Sarah's sake.
He was outside for three weeks, after which we had pretty much given up on getting him back. But one day, our babysitter managed to grab him while coaxing him to the door with tuna juice (his weakness). Ever since he was back in the house, he was suddenly much more affectionate. He allowed us to pet him. He climbed up on the arm of the chair and stuck out his head for some strokes, and even began to PURR. He’s rather pushy and demanding about affection, actually, and will approach us and push his head against our hand, and if we don’t pay attention, he’ll give us a little nip to get our attention. “Pet me! Now!”
But it wasn’t until this past winter, after we’d had him for over 4 years –during which we forced him to move halfway across the country-- that he started to put one paw on Larry’s lap. Then two. Then the upper half of his body, until finally, Scooter tentatively put his whole body on Larry’s lap. And started to purr. He won't sit on MY lap, mind you, but we still felt this was a major breakthrough. I guess he's still sore that I didn't try harder to get him back in the house.
I didn’t used to like Scooter. We’ve had to get used to each other. But I understand him now. Many people that I love have been through some tough times, including myself—loss of someone we love, or some kind of emotionally trying circumstances—that leave us raw or weakened somehow. Maybe a little less trusting. It takes time for us to get back on our feet again; to reach out again, to trust and feel safe again. God understands that, and gives us time to heal, to grow, to take another step closer, to open our hands a little bit more, until we’re ready to put our whole selves and souls into God’s hands and feel ok again. It may even be awhile before we relax enough to start purring.
Scooter reminds me to be patient with myself and with other people. We’re all doing the best that we can, and sometimes just need a little loving patience and gentleness to find our way again in a very tough world. Then we can curl up and sleep peacefully again, trusting that God’s lap is safe and sure around us, providing us a safe place to live and grow and love. And take a good, long nap.
Carmel has always been a little neurotic. When we first got him, he scratched me up pretty good whenever I tried to hold him. He'd climb over my shoulder and down my back, digging his nails into my skin like a rockclimber with spikes on his feet. He’s the one cat who runs as soon as the doorbell rings, and doesn’t come out until the company is gone. When we have people stay overnight, he lives under our bed and sneaks out during the night for the essentials. He doesn’t like to be picked up, but if you sit still awhile, he will come and settle on your lap. If you’re having a bad day, he’ll even come and snuggle up next to you and purr. He’s a great Comforter. He knows when you need a warm, fuzzy body on your chest. But the relationship is always on his terms.
A year later, we decided Carmel needed some company, especially when we were at work all day. So sure enough, his mother had had another litter, and we got Dobby (named after the house elf in Harry Potter). Carmel took to Dobby immediately, as if he knew they were half-brothers. (Their mother got around a lot) Dobby was so small at 6 weeks old, that we were afraid Carmel might eat him-- but he didn't.
Around the same time, Sarah was taking piano lessons from a woman in Tunkhannock, PA, who suddenly passed away. Jean had four cats. As an attempt to help Sarah with her first real loss of someone she loved, we asked to adopt one of Jean’s cats. Thus we got Scooter, a beautiful, long-haired black 6 year-old Persian cat with yellow-green eyes. Scooter wouldn’t have anything to do with us or the other cats at first. He hid behind the piano for months-- again, sneaking out at night for the essentials. We couldn’t coax him out for anything. We figured he’d just live behind the piano. Until the next spring of 2003, he got out of the house through an open window where the screen wasn’t in tightly. We were all heartbroken, because we couldn’t get him back in. Well, I secretly was relieved. His indifference to our kindness was annoying to me. But I acted like I was heartbroken, for Sarah's sake.
He was outside for three weeks, after which we had pretty much given up on getting him back. But one day, our babysitter managed to grab him while coaxing him to the door with tuna juice (his weakness). Ever since he was back in the house, he was suddenly much more affectionate. He allowed us to pet him. He climbed up on the arm of the chair and stuck out his head for some strokes, and even began to PURR. He’s rather pushy and demanding about affection, actually, and will approach us and push his head against our hand, and if we don’t pay attention, he’ll give us a little nip to get our attention. “Pet me! Now!”
But it wasn’t until this past winter, after we’d had him for over 4 years –during which we forced him to move halfway across the country-- that he started to put one paw on Larry’s lap. Then two. Then the upper half of his body, until finally, Scooter tentatively put his whole body on Larry’s lap. And started to purr. He won't sit on MY lap, mind you, but we still felt this was a major breakthrough. I guess he's still sore that I didn't try harder to get him back in the house.
I didn’t used to like Scooter. We’ve had to get used to each other. But I understand him now. Many people that I love have been through some tough times, including myself—loss of someone we love, or some kind of emotionally trying circumstances—that leave us raw or weakened somehow. Maybe a little less trusting. It takes time for us to get back on our feet again; to reach out again, to trust and feel safe again. God understands that, and gives us time to heal, to grow, to take another step closer, to open our hands a little bit more, until we’re ready to put our whole selves and souls into God’s hands and feel ok again. It may even be awhile before we relax enough to start purring.
Scooter reminds me to be patient with myself and with other people. We’re all doing the best that we can, and sometimes just need a little loving patience and gentleness to find our way again in a very tough world. Then we can curl up and sleep peacefully again, trusting that God’s lap is safe and sure around us, providing us a safe place to live and grow and love. And take a good, long nap.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Baking Bread
I am a pastor. I've been a pastor for approximately 17 years, and I'm still trying to figure out what it is I do.
Some people think I'm a Professional Prayer (no pressure there!) or a Professional Christian (hello!) and there are some days I feel like a litterbox for multiple cats. But that's on bad days.
People call me "Pastor Peggy," which used to make me cringe, but I've learned to smile, grind my teeth a little, and take a deep breath. You don't understand? Shall I call you Farmer Bob or Nurse Betty? Then there's Wal-Mart Cashier Sue or Subway Sandwich Maker Kelly. Besides, the thing about being "Pastor Peggy," is that uncomfortable gap that suddenly widens between me and other people when I'm introduced that way. Suddenly the other person doesn't assume that I wake up with bad breath or bedhead just like they do, or that I don't weep when the casualties of war increases or that I don't get afraid when someone else shoots up a school campus.
I'm just saying, my job is a little weird.
Which is why you don't choose to do it (if you are in your right mind) unless you are absolutely convinced that GOD wants you to do it, and therefore you can't really get out of it anyway, even if you tried.
I mean, at the end of the day, it's a little hard to evalate how I did that day. I visit the nursing home. Or the hospital. Did the person I visit seem sufficiently comforted by my visit? How do I know this? The person who came into my office to talk about their pain-- did they feel sufficiently helped when they left? How can we know this? I don't have an "in" and "out" box on my desk to measure my progress. How inspiring was that prayer I prayed to open the Administrative Meeting? Did it shake the earth? Bring tears to eyes and drive people to their knees? That report I had to fill out-- did it make my District Superintendent weep with awe?
I have a weird job. (Did I already say this?) But TV and movies would have you believe that all pastors are always dressed in a suit or collar all the time, always thinking and saying holy things, or in many cases, just looking like bumbling idiots. Oh, and they're usually bald-- or very gray and wrinkly. Unless you're Rev. Camden from "Seventh Heaven" who is too busy managing the lives of his soap-opera-candidate kids and friends to have time to show up at the church or write a decent sermon. And I have never seen a parsonage that huge or luxurious. But maybe in California...
People ask me Bible Trivia questions all the time, as if I have the whole Book memorized. Or they ask me to come up with a "really good verse" to attach to a letter, or newsletter or article-- you know, just off the top of my head.
But don't get me wrong. I love my job. Well, now I do. I didn't always. Because sometimes I have been the litter box for multiple cats or the punching bag for anal-retentive people who have never gotten over the trauma of their childhoods and figured there's no better place to let out your frustration than on "the preacher." Because, hey, preachers HAVE to be nice, no matter what. Unless you're one of those crazy child molesters or the charismatic dynamo who runs off with the secretary or has a serious drinking problem and is in denial.
But sometimes, like in the last two years, I love my job. Because I get to do what I signed up to do 18 years ago-- well, most of the time, anyway. I love preaching. I especially love saying words in the pulpit that nobody expects a preacher to say (not the four-letter ones, c'mon...) or act like a regular human being who's just as confused as the person in the pew, but has a few more books read (and a lot of school debt!) and just happens to know where to go for Bread when you're starving.
I love to baptize babies-- especially when they're bawling in their mother's arms and then I get them, and in my arms, they just shut up and stare at me like "who are YOU and what did you do with my mother?" And then I splash water on their heads and pray God's blessing upon them and wait for the dove from heaven to descend and the voice of God to shake us up. I walk the baby out into the congregation and everyone gets a goofy look on their faces, staring at this fresh new child of God, and for a moment we forget the Iraqi War and terrible prognoses and the chronic pain or our money stresses, because we're looking at a miracle of God. And maybe we remember that we are all miracles too, though a bit roughed up by life. But we come because we believe SOMETHING, even if it's just that there's something in that sanctuary for us-- a chunk of bread dipped in Welch's, or a hug during the Passing of the Peace or our favorite song, or just the safety of the sanctuary and the smell of burning candles. And we believe that if we show up, maybe Jesus will too, and who knows what'll happen? Maybe we'll breathe a little easier or feel less alone. If that's all that happens, that is enough for today.
I guess I am the fire-stoker. I keep the fire going. Sometimes when life is good, people don't show up, or they don't have the need for church, but I'm here. If the floor falls out underneath them or they get kicked in the stomach and show up in the pew, I'll try to have a word of hope for them, a morsel of bread. I try to help people find bread, I guess. Or water. Sometimes this world makes you feel that way, that if you could just have a good warm slice of bread with butter on it, you'd feel better. Jesus understands that. When he'd risen from the dead and he showed up to find his disciples fishing like nothing special had happened or JESUS hadn't happened-- he just cooked them breakfast and invited them in. No hard feelings.
I'm still trying to figure out exactly what my job is, but in the meantime, I'll keep baking bread and gathering cold water.
Some people think I'm a Professional Prayer (no pressure there!) or a Professional Christian (hello!) and there are some days I feel like a litterbox for multiple cats. But that's on bad days.
People call me "Pastor Peggy," which used to make me cringe, but I've learned to smile, grind my teeth a little, and take a deep breath. You don't understand? Shall I call you Farmer Bob or Nurse Betty? Then there's Wal-Mart Cashier Sue or Subway Sandwich Maker Kelly. Besides, the thing about being "Pastor Peggy," is that uncomfortable gap that suddenly widens between me and other people when I'm introduced that way. Suddenly the other person doesn't assume that I wake up with bad breath or bedhead just like they do, or that I don't weep when the casualties of war increases or that I don't get afraid when someone else shoots up a school campus.
I'm just saying, my job is a little weird.
Which is why you don't choose to do it (if you are in your right mind) unless you are absolutely convinced that GOD wants you to do it, and therefore you can't really get out of it anyway, even if you tried.
I mean, at the end of the day, it's a little hard to evalate how I did that day. I visit the nursing home. Or the hospital. Did the person I visit seem sufficiently comforted by my visit? How do I know this? The person who came into my office to talk about their pain-- did they feel sufficiently helped when they left? How can we know this? I don't have an "in" and "out" box on my desk to measure my progress. How inspiring was that prayer I prayed to open the Administrative Meeting? Did it shake the earth? Bring tears to eyes and drive people to their knees? That report I had to fill out-- did it make my District Superintendent weep with awe?
I have a weird job. (Did I already say this?) But TV and movies would have you believe that all pastors are always dressed in a suit or collar all the time, always thinking and saying holy things, or in many cases, just looking like bumbling idiots. Oh, and they're usually bald-- or very gray and wrinkly. Unless you're Rev. Camden from "Seventh Heaven" who is too busy managing the lives of his soap-opera-candidate kids and friends to have time to show up at the church or write a decent sermon. And I have never seen a parsonage that huge or luxurious. But maybe in California...
People ask me Bible Trivia questions all the time, as if I have the whole Book memorized. Or they ask me to come up with a "really good verse" to attach to a letter, or newsletter or article-- you know, just off the top of my head.
But don't get me wrong. I love my job. Well, now I do. I didn't always. Because sometimes I have been the litter box for multiple cats or the punching bag for anal-retentive people who have never gotten over the trauma of their childhoods and figured there's no better place to let out your frustration than on "the preacher." Because, hey, preachers HAVE to be nice, no matter what. Unless you're one of those crazy child molesters or the charismatic dynamo who runs off with the secretary or has a serious drinking problem and is in denial.
But sometimes, like in the last two years, I love my job. Because I get to do what I signed up to do 18 years ago-- well, most of the time, anyway. I love preaching. I especially love saying words in the pulpit that nobody expects a preacher to say (not the four-letter ones, c'mon...) or act like a regular human being who's just as confused as the person in the pew, but has a few more books read (and a lot of school debt!) and just happens to know where to go for Bread when you're starving.
I love to baptize babies-- especially when they're bawling in their mother's arms and then I get them, and in my arms, they just shut up and stare at me like "who are YOU and what did you do with my mother?" And then I splash water on their heads and pray God's blessing upon them and wait for the dove from heaven to descend and the voice of God to shake us up. I walk the baby out into the congregation and everyone gets a goofy look on their faces, staring at this fresh new child of God, and for a moment we forget the Iraqi War and terrible prognoses and the chronic pain or our money stresses, because we're looking at a miracle of God. And maybe we remember that we are all miracles too, though a bit roughed up by life. But we come because we believe SOMETHING, even if it's just that there's something in that sanctuary for us-- a chunk of bread dipped in Welch's, or a hug during the Passing of the Peace or our favorite song, or just the safety of the sanctuary and the smell of burning candles. And we believe that if we show up, maybe Jesus will too, and who knows what'll happen? Maybe we'll breathe a little easier or feel less alone. If that's all that happens, that is enough for today.
I guess I am the fire-stoker. I keep the fire going. Sometimes when life is good, people don't show up, or they don't have the need for church, but I'm here. If the floor falls out underneath them or they get kicked in the stomach and show up in the pew, I'll try to have a word of hope for them, a morsel of bread. I try to help people find bread, I guess. Or water. Sometimes this world makes you feel that way, that if you could just have a good warm slice of bread with butter on it, you'd feel better. Jesus understands that. When he'd risen from the dead and he showed up to find his disciples fishing like nothing special had happened or JESUS hadn't happened-- he just cooked them breakfast and invited them in. No hard feelings.
I'm still trying to figure out exactly what my job is, but in the meantime, I'll keep baking bread and gathering cold water.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Color Me Beautiful
Last week my daughter Sarah and I went to the concert at the Recital Hall at UNK, as part of the Concert on the Platte series. Yang Liu, an extraordinary and world-renowned violinist, was the featured artist, and I’d taken Sarah to his open lesson that afternoon. I was very tired, and it would have been much easier to stay home, but I promised Sarah that we’d go.
Wow.
He played with a colleague of his, who accompanied him on piano, and they were both magnificent. My emotions ran the gamut throughout the performance. Some music was sadly stirring, other pieces were lively and upbeat. Liu played with such intensity that he was dripping with sweat, he was moving his whole body, and he even had to get a new bow at one point, because he’d played some of the horsehairs loose on his bow. It was beautiful. Sometimes I felt lulled into a sense of peace, other moments I felt pinned to my seat, drawn into the overwhelming intensity of the music. I looked around the recital hall and there was a wide variety of people. A woman in front of us had a yin-yang tattoo on her neck and was wearing a tank stop, sitting with her young daughter who was knitting. Her bald (purposely) husband kept time with the music by bobbing his head and tapping the seat in front of him. The daughter spontaneously hugged her mother’s bare arms during especially intense musical moments, and leaned her head on her shoulder. There were college students in sweat pants and T-shirts, a row of older women dressed in their Sunday best, and yet another row of serious-looking, professionally dressed, perhaps music majors. There were young couples with funky hairstyles and girls with stiletto heels. We were all there to hear this accomplished violinist who had been performing very difficult classical pieces in recital halls such as this since he was 10 years old.
It was a nice break from the rest of the world. For two hours, Sarah and I got away from radio and TV coverage of how the Virginia Tech students are coping, or how the gunmen’s family has to have police protection as they grieve this horror. We got away from all the things that challenge our hope and joy. And we participated in Beauty. We shared this wonderful moment of beauty with a room full of total strangers. We were all different, some of us from different ethnic backgrounds, different taste in clothes, and different positions in life. But we were drawn together by our love of beauty, of music, of the unique capacity of music to heal and bless our souls.
We need beauty so desperately. As I write this, it is very dark and dreary outside, with the severe thunderstorms raging and flooding outside. We’ve had some significant losses in my own community already in 2007, and there are many among us struggle with various crises in their individual lives. Rarely a Sunday goes by in church when we are not praying over more than one prayer blanket to give away.
Let’s not forget the power of beautiful things to bless our souls and the souls of others, to nourish and renew. Let’s pursue beauty and share it. When we were little, we would draw a picture for someone we loved and present it to them as a gift. We’re not too old to think of something beautiful to give or to do for someone to light up their world, to add music to their silences, and color to their black and white days. Take time for beauty. Indulge in beauty. Soak it up, eat it up with your eyes, your senses. It is not easy to be bearers of beauty—it makes us vulnerable, and sometimes just plain weird! But don’t be fooled, we all need it, we all hunger for it. Jesus was weary and sad as he faced his impending death when a nameless woman came to him and poured expensive perfume over his head, soothing, blessing him, and filling the room with a precious aroma. When his friends were shocked at her questionable behavior, he said, “Leave her alone, she has done a beautiful thing for me, and what she has done will be told wherever the gospel is proclaimed…. (Mark 9) Jesus himself is an image of beauty—his presence, his words, his depth of love, his power to love and heal—in a world that had grown hard and cynical.
Let’s be beautiful. Let’s add color to our corner of the world, and shine light in the dark corners! Imagine the light we can radiate when we get together in the spirit of the Resurrected One!
Wow.
He played with a colleague of his, who accompanied him on piano, and they were both magnificent. My emotions ran the gamut throughout the performance. Some music was sadly stirring, other pieces were lively and upbeat. Liu played with such intensity that he was dripping with sweat, he was moving his whole body, and he even had to get a new bow at one point, because he’d played some of the horsehairs loose on his bow. It was beautiful. Sometimes I felt lulled into a sense of peace, other moments I felt pinned to my seat, drawn into the overwhelming intensity of the music. I looked around the recital hall and there was a wide variety of people. A woman in front of us had a yin-yang tattoo on her neck and was wearing a tank stop, sitting with her young daughter who was knitting. Her bald (purposely) husband kept time with the music by bobbing his head and tapping the seat in front of him. The daughter spontaneously hugged her mother’s bare arms during especially intense musical moments, and leaned her head on her shoulder. There were college students in sweat pants and T-shirts, a row of older women dressed in their Sunday best, and yet another row of serious-looking, professionally dressed, perhaps music majors. There were young couples with funky hairstyles and girls with stiletto heels. We were all there to hear this accomplished violinist who had been performing very difficult classical pieces in recital halls such as this since he was 10 years old.
It was a nice break from the rest of the world. For two hours, Sarah and I got away from radio and TV coverage of how the Virginia Tech students are coping, or how the gunmen’s family has to have police protection as they grieve this horror. We got away from all the things that challenge our hope and joy. And we participated in Beauty. We shared this wonderful moment of beauty with a room full of total strangers. We were all different, some of us from different ethnic backgrounds, different taste in clothes, and different positions in life. But we were drawn together by our love of beauty, of music, of the unique capacity of music to heal and bless our souls.
We need beauty so desperately. As I write this, it is very dark and dreary outside, with the severe thunderstorms raging and flooding outside. We’ve had some significant losses in my own community already in 2007, and there are many among us struggle with various crises in their individual lives. Rarely a Sunday goes by in church when we are not praying over more than one prayer blanket to give away.
Let’s not forget the power of beautiful things to bless our souls and the souls of others, to nourish and renew. Let’s pursue beauty and share it. When we were little, we would draw a picture for someone we loved and present it to them as a gift. We’re not too old to think of something beautiful to give or to do for someone to light up their world, to add music to their silences, and color to their black and white days. Take time for beauty. Indulge in beauty. Soak it up, eat it up with your eyes, your senses. It is not easy to be bearers of beauty—it makes us vulnerable, and sometimes just plain weird! But don’t be fooled, we all need it, we all hunger for it. Jesus was weary and sad as he faced his impending death when a nameless woman came to him and poured expensive perfume over his head, soothing, blessing him, and filling the room with a precious aroma. When his friends were shocked at her questionable behavior, he said, “Leave her alone, she has done a beautiful thing for me, and what she has done will be told wherever the gospel is proclaimed…. (Mark 9) Jesus himself is an image of beauty—his presence, his words, his depth of love, his power to love and heal—in a world that had grown hard and cynical.
Let’s be beautiful. Let’s add color to our corner of the world, and shine light in the dark corners! Imagine the light we can radiate when we get together in the spirit of the Resurrected One!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)