text :: 1 Samuel 3: 1 – 10

theme verse :: “Speak, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:10)

Do you read Scripture primarily for information or transformation? Do you imagine it as a text book or a love letter? There is room for both realities, of course, but in creating a sacred rhythm between God and follower of God, it is good to consider what it means to savor the Scriptures. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “The Word of Scripture should never stop sounding in your ears and working in you all day long, just like the words of someone you love.” What is your relationship with our holy text? What could God open to you if you opened the Bible in a whole new way?

anthem :: 'More Holiness Give Me' (R.Staheli) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director

reader :: Dan Pease
preaching :: Rev Mark Briley

offertory :: 'Thy Word' (M.W.Smith) :: Andrea Gross, Kelly Ford, Susie Monger Daugherty

1 Samuel 3:1-10
Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. ² At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; ³ the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. ⁴ Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” ⁵ and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. ⁶ The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” ⁷ Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. ⁸ The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. ⁹ Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. ¹⁰ Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”

The church elder got up to read the scripture chosen for the day and the young teenage boy selected to sing the refrain nervously stepped to the lectern and sang, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.”  I can remember it vividly.  It was pure and holy and sacred.  I remember being in Vacation Bible School as a young child learning to sing, “The B-I-B-L-E, yes that’s the book for me.  I stand alone on the word of God, the B-I-B-L-E!”  I remember when I first came to serve among you here in Tulsa, it was the practice of the elder reading the scripture to approach the Communion Table which set up high on the Chancel, to lift the biggest Bible you’ve ever seen and carry it over to the pulpit and spread wide it’s pages to be read before the congregation.  It could have been read in many other ways but this visual was designed to say, “Look at this!  Hold your breath for a moment!  Something holy is about to be shared.”

I love the Bible. It is the book that has been in my life longer than any other book.  From my picture Bible, to the one I received at my baptism to the one I received when I graduated from high school to the one my parents gave me at my ordination… the Bible has always been an essential part of my existence. It’s just a book, right?  Pages run through a printing press, bound, and many shipped out of China to the ends of the world.  China! The very country where the book itself has been banned at various points in her history. I’ve been to that very printing press in Nanjing. It is impressive.  They had a running ticker  of how many Bibles they had printed… tick, tick, tick.  Amazing! Some six billion copies of the Bible have been sold.  Harry Potter has only 400 million copies sold, coming in third place. Nine out of ten American households own a Bible – the average American household has three. The YOUversion Bible App[1] has already been installed over 365 million times on unique devices all over the world – 1,880 Bible versions in 1,288 languages — for free… and without advertising.  Isn’t that something?  I’ve heard Craig Groeschel, the LifeChurch founder whose church created the Bible App tell the story about how it happened.  The short of it was a teenager had slipped into the office where a team was having some conversation and was like, “Uh, it would be super easy to make an app.”  “Really?” they said. “Uh, yeah.”  And just like that… he did and the world is reading the Bible again… a new generation… a new time, place, medium, village, language.  Why tell you all of this?  Because it is simply amazing to me.  The reach. The impact. There is something beyond the words of the pages that transforms life like nothing else seemingly does.

Rev. Meghan Larissa Good, a millennial Mennonite pastor speaks to this power.

“Hardest to pin down is the naked power of the book itself,” she says. “Millennia of readers testify that those who listen carefully find themselves addressed by a voice beyond the page that somehow penetrates and breaks things open. God, in some strange and unique way, actually talks here; and where God starts talking, chains are broken, wounds are healed, and whole worlds are upended.”[2]

So there’s that. But… we also know such power can be destructive.  Many a war and tremendous violence have been conducted on somebody’s word that the “Bible told them so.”  When the Hebrew writer says in Chapter four, “Indeed, the word of God is sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow…” some have used the Bible for that very purpose – to slice and dice and harm and exterminate whole communities or races of people or to draw castles around their own holy understanding that leaves little room for anyone else to get across the mote to share the joy of being on the inside. The murder in Christchurch, New Zealand, is shuddering… there is no place in any Holy Book that can justify such hatred and violence.  Only deranged extremists of our faith and that of others have felt justified in such slaughter. It is not the peace which our Muslim, Jewish, and Christian siblings promote.

One way we can stride in this direction for peace is to encounter God in Scripture in a way that brings life and hope to all… not death or fear.  I want you to think about your engagement with scripture.  Maybe it’s always been a part of your life.  Maybe you’ve given it little thought and have just chalked it up to a weird collection of stories that don’t have anything to say to us today.  I wonder how you approach the Bible. Do you read Scripture primarily for information or transformation?  Do you imagine it as a text book or a love letter?  There is room for multiple realities, of course, but in creating a sacred rhythm between God and follower of God, it is good to consider what it means to savor the Scriptures. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, What could God open to you if you opened the Bible in a whole new way? That’s what we’re after today.

Scott Allender recently referred to these two Harvard psychiatrists who stated quite starkly the following: Ouch.  We are the most over-informed, under-reflective civilization in human history.  Whoa.  Information is more accessible than ever.  And we may eat it but we certainly are bypassing the chewing and digestive processes.  My son Dane reminds our family of this every time we eat. He reminds me of his great-grandma Briley who always took an additional twenty/thirty minutes to eat her meal after the rest of us were done. Dane is the same way.  And we’ll wait and he’ll say, “I’m just savoring my food, guys.”  And like our information, we hardly have the patience to savor anything anymore. When’s the last time you savored Scripture?  And if you are reading… are you just trying to get through it… to reach some reading plan goal?

Think about Luke 6 where Jesus talks about loving our enemies as a true mark of the Christian faith.[3] We’ve heard it before perhaps and we’ve got somewhere else to be soon so we just plow on through that chapter so we can check it off the list.  But if you’re reading relationally or for spiritual transformation, you might only choose 6-8 verses and approach it with no other agenda than listening and deepening your intimacy with God.  How does it feel when you read Jesus’ words, “Love your enemies.”  Feel it.  Wonder about it.  And maybe you’ll start feeling some discomfort and a fist rising up from your gut that says, “I don’t this so!  I’m not okay with that!”  It surprises you because you were feeling all spiritual trying to do your daily scripture reading and now you’re just feeling all judgy (which we may be prone to do).  But feel it a bit and ponder, “What in my life is pressed against what Jesus is saying here?”  What may be revealed is that under my piety, there’s a part of me that doesn’t feel all that loving right now.  In fact, I’m harboring some anger against someone who’s hurt me. I thought I had let that go but clearly its still there under my skin. What does this awareness on this particular day tell me about where I am not like Christ?  Am I being transformed into a more loving person? Now… instead of just buzzing through the words, “Love your enemies,” – God and I are getting somewhere – some level of intimacy that may just change me in some deep way.  This is how we were meant to read the Bible… not in quest of sound bites to back up our political leanings… but to engage the very Word of God… who is Christ himself… that we might be transformed.  After all, this is the Bible’s bold hypothesis: “It’s a grand leap of faith – that there never was any closed cosmic system from which God could be barred or into which God has to break as a stranger… God is closer than the world ever dared to imagine.”

Rev. Good reminds us that “The early Christians believed the Bible was rightly read when it led to contemplation of, and participation in, nothing less than Jesus himself.  This means we don’t just read Scripture – we read through Scripture like a window.”  I think we have come to fear Scripture… a sense that we can’t understand it or that we should be more familiar with it or that we’ll not use it well and so we give up on the engagement.  Ah… but don’t do that, my friends.  Pick it up again, as if for the first time, to savor it a bit at a time… listening for what God may be saying to you now.  While the text may be the same, your life changes day after day and therefore your encounter will be different time and time again.

I appreciated a friend who’s taking our Enneagram class on Wednesday nights who was struggling a bit to decipher what Number or personality type he may be.  He said almost soberly, “I’ve been through some hard things and I’m not sure I’m the same now as I was back then.”  Life does throw us some tough curveballs. Life is hard and we make choices and things happen that are out of our control and we wonder, “Who am I now?”  And scripture can be a companion in a wholly new way.  Those sacred texts are most effective not when we read them but when they read us.  The more we can loosen some of our preconceived ideas or fundamental perceptions about what the text says or means and encounter it in a fresh way – the more we can see our lives in the new-thing-view that God may be doing in our lives now.

It’s why I picked, perhaps, an obscure text to speak about encountering God through scripture because the story of young Samuel doesn’t have anything to do with him engaging his sacred text, the Torah.  Not at all.  He’s just available.  And if we could start with availability, we’d be well ahead of the game.  Little Sam was living in a spiritually dry time… “The word of the Lord was rare in those days,” says the text. There was corruption and greed and bad stuff happening and it was just a spiritually dry time.  But Sam was living in the Temple as was Eli the priest.  And one night, Sam was dreaming perhaps when he hears his name called, “Samuel! Samuel!”  He jumps out of bed and runs into Eli’s room hollering, “Here I am?”  What do you need?”  Now Eli’s up in years a bit.  His bed time ritual takes some time with the Ben Gay and the whole bit and he’s tired.  And this whipper snapper comes running in and waking him up.  “Beat it, kid!  It wasn’t me.”  Sam goes back to bed but that voice again, “Samuel! Samuel!”  And the boy shoots back into Eli’s room: “Yeah!  I hear you calling me.  Here I am!”  And Eli says, “You’re killin’ me Smalls.  I’m not yelling for you… get in bed. Now!”  And Sam dips his head and climbs back onto his bunk.  And I’ll be darned if Sam doesn’t hear his name called again.  This time, he’s got to be thinking, “The old man has lost his marbles!”  What else can he do but go see what Eli needs.  “Hey there, sir.  I heard you call my name and I’m back… please don’t yell at me.”   And Eli, realizing like a parent does when something is truly up with their kid, he says to young Sam, “My boy, I see what’s happening here. The Lord is looking for some available ears.  Go back to bed and when you hear your name called, respond by saying: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”  Don’t you think the kid is a bit wide-eyed now?  We don’t pick that up in the story but I’d sort of be like, “Uh… will you come with me?  And can I have a drink of water… and maybe a snack?”  Anything from having to go back to bed. But Sam drags his blankey back to his room. He lays down and pulls the covers all the way up over the tip of his nose and stars at the ceiling… and waits.  And lo and behold, the voice comes again: “Samuel!”  Big gulp.  What was I supposed to say?  Oh yes. “Uh… speak, Lord, for your servant is all ears.”

That’s availability.  That’s what we’re looking for.  That’s the approach I’m suggesting we have when we approach the Bible.  I don’t want to coerce you or manipulate you or brow beat you with Scripture.  It’s too beautiful for that.  I want you to encounter the living God and be willing to say, “Speak to me, Lord, I’m available and listening.”

There was an acronym floating around for a while… because Christians love themselves some acronyms, right?  F.R.O.G. – forever rely on God. W.W.J.D. – What would Jesus do. We love ‘em, don’t we?  There was one for the B.I.B.L.E. – Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth. Cute, right?  And I get the sentiment.  It’s a pithy statement and, at one point, maybe something I expected of the Bible myself – “sort of like a Roomba owner’s manual, only for the human soul.”

Rev. Good spoke of this too.  She said,

“If the primary purpose of the Bible were to efficiently convey the most basic, universally relevant knowledge necessary to maintain a well-ordered life, most of us would expect a very different kind of book.  We’d want a little more quick-reference-index, a little less poetry; a little more guidance on romance and dating, a little less detail on how to build a giant ark without power tools.”  She says, but “this is no fairy-tale or snow-globe world.  The Bible tells the story of what is.  It’s the true story of a world where hearing is imperfect, where motives are mixed, where evil exists, where bias lingers, where good intentions can go wildly astray.  And where God persists in showing up.”

If God persists on showing up then maybe I should too.  For that’s where we meet the Word; the Word who is Christ himself.  The Word that existed before words existed.  Kayla McClurg continues that sentiment…

“The Word that longs to quiet the storms within and among us, light up our darkness, stir our complacency, bring us back fully to ourselves. The Word longs to be in conversation with us; not get our opinions on every subject, be impressed by our clarity and wit, but just hang out with us, dwell among us. The Word has come to teach us our mother tongue, our native language — the language of compassion and fearless encounter, the language of love.”[4]

Yes. Available. Encounter. Thank you, God.

How do you know God is calling?  Even the idea of God calling you to do something feels so strange and like a call on your Smart Phone from an unidentified number – you’re not inclined to answer.  There’s so many voices wanting to yank you into their sphere of influence.  How do you know?  E. Stanley Jones… missionary to India called this a “traffic jam of wills.”  He was a bright young man in his early 20’s and everyone wanted a piece of him.  His alma mater said, “We believe God is calling you to teach here.”  His friend wrote him a letter, “I believe God is calling you to evangelistic work here in the States.”  His denomination tells him, “We believe God is calling you to the mission field in India.” He felt called to India and served his whole life there. He remembers having this open conversation with Gandhi one day saying, “How can we make Christianity more natural here in India… more available to people who may be interested?” and Gandhi roughly says, “Christians should first seek to live more like Christ.”[5]

That’s always the challenge, right?  We may be quick to say, “The Bible says…” but until we can show, “This is how Christ lives,” many won’t be inspired to crack open the Scriptures at all. The old adage, “You may be the only Bible some will ever read,” applies well here.  Information alone just makes us arrogant if it doesn’t filter down through the clay to the roots of our souls where real, humble transformation takes place.  Pastor Courtney is offering a Bible 101 course on Tuesday nights starting very soon.  A brother in our very church and I are praying for clarity on the possibility of a Bible study on the Book of Acts for which we need some leadership to rise. Maybe these are calls of God on your life?  Who knows?

Sometimes, when you’re struggling to hear the call of God, you’ve just got to make a new effort.  Make a start at something.  See if any traction is gained. Starting is always a sign of hope.  Every time I get dressed to go out for a run, I’m hopeful that, even if I’m slow, my getting out there; trying something; making my legs available to what could lead to the transformation of my cardiovascular system, is hope.  Making any beginning is stating the belief that a good outcome is possible.  When we sense God calling us to make a beginning, at whatever that may be, it’s important to not let discouragers or opponents or distractions turn us away. What is waiting for a start in your life?  What have you been wrestling with, wondering if God may be giving you a nudge?  Have you tested it?  Do you need some training for it?  Have you sought the wisdom of scripture to simply make yourself available to God within the words of our holy text?

I was in third grade. My father, who was also my pastor, taught me a word from John 3:16 – again the number one scripture written on hairy chests of shirtless men at football games for decades now – isn’t it crazy where scripture shows up?  You probably know this word.  “For God so loved the world that whosoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” My dad invited me to put my own name in that text where the word “world” was.  “For God so loved Mark…”  Now the sentence doesn’t read correctly if you don’t alter any of the rest but I can’t remember how we handled that.  But that first part?  Can’t shake it. Can’t forget it.  “For God so loved Mark…”  Really?  “And you can do that?” I asked.  “You can put other people’s names in there too?”  “Until you cover the whole world, son.”  I want to be available to that kind of God.  That kind of love. That’s an encounter that can change the world.  So, I’m listening, God. And maybe you’ll listen too… you know, for your name to be called?  May we, like young Samuel, be ready to respond 

[1] www.youversion.com
[2] Meghan Larissa Good. The Bible Unwrapped:  Making Sense of Scripture Today. Herald Press. Harrisonburg, VA. 2018. This quote as well as other places where Rev. Good is named in this message come from this book.
[3] Sacred Rhythms. Ruth Haley Barton.  IVP Books. 2006.  Her influence is evident in this message as well as in the formation of the entire series.  This paragraph about approach to scripture reading is an example she shares in this book.
[4] Kayla McClurg, comments on John 1:1-18 for January 4, 2016. inwardoutward.org.
[5] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQHIjCLcF6o

text :: Mark 10: 46 - 52

theme verse :: “Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51a)

Richard Rohr says, "A good journey begins with knowing where we are and being willing to go someplace else." The sacred season of Lent always affords us such an opportunity. What is your deepest spiritual desire? Do you long for more? The movement from desire to discipline is important. This forty-day journey to Easter invites us to be honest with God, and ourselves, about our sin and our hope, about our shortcomings and our holy longings. On Ash Wednesday, it begins with a cry for mercy and a commitment to follow Jesus on the way.

reader :: Rev Courtney Richards

anthem :: 'Offertory' (J.N.Beck) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director

preaching :: Rev Mark Briley

during the imposing of ashes :: 'Desire' (Ryan Adams) :: Isaac Herbert & Andrea Gross

Mark 10: 46 – 52
They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. ⁴⁷ When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” ⁴⁸ Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” ⁴⁹ Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” ⁵⁰ So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. ⁵¹ Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher,^[a] let me see again.” ⁵² Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

“There are moments in our lives when we cry out [if even] inwardly, ‘I don’t care what anyone else says; there has to be more to the Christian life than this!’”  Maybe you’ve been in such a space before.  Maybe you’re in such a life space now.  It doesn’t matter if you’ve grown up in the church, are new to the faith, or somewhere in between, we are all prone to such a pondering at some point.  Ruth Haley Barton, who authored the book, Sacred Rhythms[1], which will supply important guidance to our series this Lent, admitted this very feeling even as she was pastoring a church.  She called it CFS (Christian fatigue syndrome).  The more she refused to acknowledge this longing for more, the deeper and wider the emptiness became. She said, “It nearly swallowed me whole.”  It was a time when she couldn’t begin to fathom what Jesus meant when he said, “I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10).  In that season of her life, she said, “I was cynical at best.”  Do you understand this feeling?

Some of this has to do with our sense that we can manufacture spirituality.  We can work at it, yes, and at some point, our desire for more must lead to our discipline for more or we’re not giving God our best effort toward that transformational reality.  However, spiritual transformation is full of mystery.  The Greek word for this process translates into metamorphosis in English, like a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly.  It’s hard to imagine that the caterpillar has much cognitive understanding about the process or the end product of the whole thing.  Caterpillars don’t sit around with their colleagues in the break room saying, “Thinking of cocooning this weekend. I’ve prayed it through. It’s time.” They don’t do that, right? But… there’s something in the deepest essence of that little squirmy creature that says, “It is time” and so the caterpillar obeys this deep inner urge to enter the transformative process. Giving ourselves over to our own spiritual transformation is just like this mystery. We find ourselves on the edge of something that we internally long for but something we cannot do for ourselves.  We can only put ourselves in position… making ourselves available… and trusting God to work within us.

This is surely, in part, what has led you here tonight.  Sure there’s the, “Well I’m singing in the choir,” or “The whole Youth Group had to come,” or you thought there would be snacks.  I know there are always many factors that go into getting us to any place and any given time.  But since you’re here, I have to believe that even some part of you is longing for more… longing to understand and to be understood… longing to be more even as you long to be accepted as you are… longing to find control over yourself even as all seems chaotic and out of control all around you.  But you’re here in this sanctuary on this first day of the season of Lent so why not make the investment in your soul.  Richard Rohr says, Lent is a sacred season that always affords us such an opportunity if we are willing.  Where are you willing to go?  Where are you willing to grow?  What is your deepest spiritual desire?  Do you long for more?  The movement from desire to discipline is important and so tonight… in what may be the most straightforward and honest night of any church night, is a perfect place to own where we are and be willing to go someplace else.

Why is this night so honest?  For starters, the mark of the cross in ash on our foreheads is the very humbling reminder of our mortality.  We’re all going to die.  The science around death still offers the research that the human mortality rate still hovers around 100%.  They’re even teaching this in schools you know?  I still remember my daughter coming home from school one day last year announcing, “It’s official!  My classmates and I are going to live until we’re 127.”  Perhaps… but even still, that 128^th year is not promised.  Death is real. We deny it. Ignore it. Or assume it’s for others. But it takes little to remind us that it looms near.  Now, of course, there are stories of facing and defeating death that help build our sense that we can overcome death on our own.  A man attacked by a mountain lion while on a run, wrestles and kills it with his bare hands. Death defied… at least for the runner. Two elementary aged sisters wander from home, get lost, and rely on their 4-H skills to survive for a couple of days in the wilderness. Amazing!

Or maybe you heard Jeremy Taylor’s survival story this week.  An adventurer, Jeremy and his dog, Ally, love to explore the wild mountains of Oregon and ventured out on such an expedition a couple of weeks ago. Heavy snow set in and ultimately trapped he and Ally in their car without a phone or any way of finding freedom.  For the next five days, this man and his dog survived by starting the car once in a while to supply a little heat and eating the only thing he found in his car that put any calories into their bodies at all.  Wait for it?  Taco Bell sauce packets. That’s it!  Five days!  Taylor said after being found and rescued by a snowmobiler, “Taco Bell fire sauce saves lives!”  Thankfully, these stories all ended well but we know many more do not. And this man’s escape of death doesn’t give him a pass altogether.  He’ll face death again. “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.”  Accepting our mortality is part of what this night is about. When the ash is placed on our foreheads in the shape of a cross later tonight, we’ll hear it said 

It sets the tone for this season in a way only death can.  Yes, at the end of all of this, we’ll celebrate Easter… the resurrection… life eternal… but how can we really appreciate it if we don’t recognize that death comes first. We often think of this spiritually as a death to self.  Giving up our way for the way of transformation… like a caterpillar spinning a cocoon trusting that the remodel of its very being is worth the submission of self to the process.  There’s got to be more, right?  There’s got to be more.  While this longing and desire is often bittersweet as it means there’s some hard work ahead, it also is the very thing that reminds us that we are alive in ways we truly and ultimately want to be alive.  When was the last time you felt a longing for healing and fundamental change groaning within you?  Do you know where you are?  Do you know where your spirit is?  Are you willing to go someplace else?  That’s the question of this night. Very specifically the question is this:  What do you want?

This is not a new or mysterious question, but it is a transformative one… one that Jesus asked of people often. “What do you want?” he would ask.  “What do you want me to do for you?”  This is the question asked in the scriptural passage you heard read just a bit ago.  The story of Bartimaeus – Blind Bartimaeus as he was often called… which is rude but also a reality that he had struggled with presumably for a long time. We don’t know how long Bartimaeus spent begging by the side of the road, but it had clearly become something he was known for.  We become known for the things we do as well which tragically begins to define us in ways God would never define us. Be careful about projecting such definitions onto others and even onto your own life.  Bart heard the buzz that this Jesus would be passing by and he wants to see more than anything else – physically see of course but there is a greater spiritual depth to his desire as well.  He wants the healing to cover his mind, body and spirit.  He wants to be transformed.

It was a noisy and crowded day in the city and Jesus was such a popular teacher the crowds around him always made it tough for everyone to get close to him. To get his attention, Bartimaeus was going to have to dig deep.  We live in a different time and place but we feel that same press.  The crowds around us, the attachments to our phones, the noise in our heads even, are trying to push us out… keep us away from truly feeling our lives… and we have to dig deep, even on nights like tonight, to put ourselves out there and say, “This is important.  I need this.”  The moment comes and Bartimaeus cries out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  And as Jesus so often does throughout the biblical narrative, he hears the voice of the one who honestly cries out. He stops, finds his way to ensure that Bartimaeus stands in front of him, face to face.  The need seems obvious, perhaps, but Jesus never assumes.  He says, “What do you want me to do for you?”  What is your desire? This is such a tender place to be.  Bart has taken the big gulp and put himself out there this far. “I know you don’t know me all that well, Teacher, and I don’t know you that well either… but I’d really like to see again.”

If I asked you what you want… what would you say?  We might start with a surface thing here or there.  My son might say, a “G-wagon” or a “McLaren” or something like that. But when Jesus stands before you and asks, “What do you really want?” you know what he means… and you feel what he means too.  Ruth Haley Barton says,

“Your desire for more of God than you have right now, your longing for love, your need for deeper levels of spiritual transformation than you have experienced so far is the truest thing about you. You might think that your woundedness or your sinfulness is the truest thing about you or that your giftedness or your personality type or your job title or your identity as husband or wife, mother or father, somehow defines you. But in reality, it is your desire for God and your capacity to reach for more of God than you have right now that is the deepest essence of who you are.”

How bad do you want it?  Desire, at some point, must give way to discipline for any transformation to be realized.

I was running through my neighborhood Monday night… it was freezing outside… but I’m trying to run a bit again and you’ve got to dig deep against everything else pressing in your life, or in your own body, that’s saying, “Nah. Not tonight. You’re good. Take the night off.”  So I’m running.  Slow and shivering… but I’m doing it. As I’m heading into one of the many cul-de-sacs in the neighborhood, I see a couple of garbage cans out in the middle of the street and a man standing in front of a car near those same garbage cans.  “What in the world?” I thought to myself.  And the man is now standing in front of the car, not facing the car but facing the same direction the car is facing, and he has his arms out in front of him like he’s pretend driving… sort of like a kid who spreads his arms pretending to fly like Superman.  Now I’m slow, remember, and we’re on a cul-de-sac so I’m getting to watch this for a good little while without obviously having to stop and stare in astonishment of what was going on.  The man’s intensity is growing… and his frustration… and it’s freezing outside!  What I begin to realize is that this is surely the man’s teenage daughter in the car and she’s going to try to parallel park this beast between those two garbage cans. And no matter how hard the dad shows the motions and is pretending to drive from outside of the car, she’s got to try to land this boat between the cans on her own – which dad did not space too generously in my opinion.  And sure enough, just as I turn the corner to make my way on down the road, “Bam!”  She takes the back garbage can out hard and dad has his hands now on the back of his head.  I wanted to circle back around… this was getting good.  But I pressed on.  I wondered if he set the garbage can back up to try again.  I wondered how long they kept after it. She wanted to pass that drivers test I’m sure. And dad surely had his own motivations.  How bad do you want it?  This spiritual quest that we share… this hope that something will click… that the depths of our souls will be moved and transformed and more in touch with God… is something that we must desire enough to arrange our life around.  Barton makes clear that such desire is a catalytic element of the spiritual life.  If you’ve been waiting for someone to flat out ask you, “What is it you want?” then consider tonight that ask.

Bartimaeus faces every past moment of his life in that present moment face-to-face with Jesus.  “Bart, what do you want me to do for you?”  “I want to see.” And he sees with his eyes what he saw first in his spirit… Jesus.  And the text says next, “Bartimaeus followed him on the way.”  That moment changed everything.  Yes, it was not a one-time commitment.  Bart had new challenges now that his life was different. Seeing brought about opportunities and challenges that he didn’t have before.  And what seemingly saved his life didn’t mean he wouldn’t struggle again.  Like Jeremy Taylor who survived a week on Taco Bell fire sauce and Lazarus who Jesus resurrected from the dead, Bartimaeus was still mortal and would face death again. Your first commitment or your renewed commitment tonight will be met with a new challenge each day to your resolve and desire to want it still and want it more. It is a constant yielding of self to God and an acknowledgment we will mark tonight that must be acknowledged again and again. And yielding is trickier than you think.

About 6:45 every school day morning, I drive my daughter to school. And I’m not the only one. Other people, I have learned, do this too… drive their kids to school. So many do, in fact, that traffic is always a problem… especially as the main bridge across the river to the school is down to one lane of traffic either way… lots of yielding.  Additionally, I count nine intersections for which I must negotiate who’s turn it is to yield… and to get back home my math says that’s eighteen separate opportunities to yield every morning of my life.  But you know what happens with this yielding stuff, right?  We stop. And then the motion game starts.  You give that little wave, “You go.  Go ahead.”  And you inch a bit and they inch a bit and motion back the universal, “It’s okay. You go. Go ahead.”  And we both wait… but we wait just long enough to decide we’ll go which only and always happens at the exact same time they’ve also decided that you are yielding to them and they’ll go ahead.  So then you both stop again and instead of just going on, I start back with the nod and hand motion, “You go.”  And after 18 intersections every morning to and from school, I’m about done with yielding you know?  And with all of this time I’ve been giving to my own mortality thinking about tonight, I’m sort of like, “Forget all of this polite yielding nonsense.  I’m going to go sometime… maybe it’s just my time.” And I’m inclined to just plow right through.  But the discipline of yielding to God must start with our desire and follow with our discipline.

You up for it?  The season of Lent is about yielding to Christ and putting in the focused effort.  It starts with recognizing our mortality in our quest to discover life that is truly life.  If you’re in that place of searching for something more… may you know this night is for you.  “A good journey begins with knowing where we are and being willing to go someplace else.”  The path is set to get in touch with the sacred rhythm the season affords.  Will you go with us?  Tonight, we cry for mercy.  Then, like Bartimaeus, we follow Jesus on the way to transformation.

[1] Sacred Rhythms. Ruth Haley Barton.  IVP Books. 2006.  Her influence is evident in this message as well as in the formation of the entire series.

text : Matthew 14: 13 - 21

theme verse : “Jesus said, ‘They need not go away; you give them something to eat.’" (Mt 14:16)

Upon welcoming guests in their home, many say, “We practice an open fridge policy –please help yourself!” Some have taken this hospitality to the next level. In some neighborhoods of Buenos Aires, you might pass a small café and see a refrigerator sitting up against the store wall. Over the fridge is a sign, which reads, "Take freely, only what you need."People walk up to that fridge, open the door, take what they need and walk away. They call them solidarity fridgesor social fridges.One café owner with a social fridge outside of his business said he was tired of so much food being wasted and other foraging through the dumpster later. Why not share freely and preserve dignity at the same time? Jesus was deeply interested in sharing resources. As his followers, we would do well to follow suit. On ‘Week of Compassion’ Sunday, imagine with us how compassion not only brings dignity to others but makes us more whole in the process.

anthem : 'Be Still' (M.McDonald) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director

reader : Abby Langenheim
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

special music : 'Remembrance' (HillsongWorship) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader; Katie Herbert, lead vocal

Matthew 14: 13 – 21
Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. ¹⁴ When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. ¹⁵ When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” ¹⁶ Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” ¹⁷ They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” ¹⁸ And he said, “Bring them here to me.” ¹⁹ Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. ²⁰ And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. ²¹ And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

Sharing is such an elementary concept. It’s one of the first ideas we struggle with as a kid.  “Mine” is a word we learn far earlier than “Ours.”  The Dalai Lama wrapped up a lecture leaving some time for questions. A member of the audience asked him if he could offer an answer to the problem of world hunger.  He simply responded: “Sharing.” Sharing is apparently, as they say, “Not rocket science.”  We practice an open fridge policy at our house.  If you come into our home, it won’t be long before we stipulate the policy.  It’s the mi casa es su casa idea for your fridge. My fridge is your fridge.  Whatever’s in there is up for grabs. Please help yourself. Just check the date on the cottage cheese first. You probably do this as well. But some are taking this hospitality to the next level.  In some neighborhoods of Buenos Aires, you might pass a small café and see a refrigerator sitting up against the outside wall of the store. Over the fridge is a sign which reads, “Take freely, only what you need.”  People walk up to that fridge, open the door, take what they need and walk away.  I call this an open fridge policy. They call them solidarity fridges or social fridges.[1] One café owner with a social fridge outside of his business said he was tired of so much food being wasted, thrown away and others foraging through the dumpster shortly after. “Why not share freely and preserve dignity at the same time?” he thought.  These open fridge policies are catching on in other countries as well – Saudi Arabia, Spain and India among them. Jesus was deeply interested in compassionately sharing resources. As his followers, we would do well to follow suit. Today we continue our series entitled, (y)our WHOLE Life and share our special offering with Week of Compassion.  As we focus on the gift of compassion, let’s imagine together how compassion not only brings dignity to others but makes our own lives more whole in the process.

When it comes to sharing, it often starts with a little perspective about what we have. How often have you opened the fridge and stared blankly at its contents – often full of food – but you think to yourself, or maybe say out loud:  “We don’t have anything to eat!” The disciples of Jesus do this very thing in our in-road to the miracle of sharing today. First, the back story… Jesus has been teaching people out in the country… outside the city limits; off Route B, down the dirt road that’s great for muddin’ when it rains.  Quite a crowd had gathered and the afternoon just slipped by like one of those magical days when you just seem to lose track of time. Time to spare, however, was going to cost these people something significant.  These were working class folks who knew a tough life. They worked the arid land under the sun without SPF 50 sun block. Kids worked alongside their folks – not always in the fields; sometimes in trade shops – working in the shadows of the oppression of Rome and living shortened lives due to the tough conditions.  All to say it means something that these people have followed Jesus out to this place.

But then Jesus gets a text from Peter. It’s about John the Baptist; the cousin of Jesus. He’s been murdered. Floored by the news, Jesus runs, scattered in thought, heart-racing, grief pouring out his pores from the epicenter of the explosion that occurred in his soul.  He sprints to the edge of the lake, jumps on a Sea-Doo and goes full throttle toward what surely seems to be the end of the world where his eye meets the horizon in the distance. You know this same grief I am almost certain.  None of us are immune from the pain of such loss.  But that crowd knows the Sea-Doo will run out of gas at some point and they want to be there when it does. So they make their way on foot around the lake to see if they can eventually catch up to him.  This certainly says something about their experience with Jesus. He was worth following. Considering the size of Galilee, this “Where’s Waldo” hunt of Jesus was no easy task.  But… “I’ll be darned,” Jesus must have uttered under his breath as he pulled up to a new shore, seeing the crowd there waiting for him.  And, so the text says, “He had compassion for them.”  The root word of compassion indicates this is a guttural response; something he feels deep in his gut. It’s the same utterance of Jesus that the elders of our church chose as the scripture to put outside of our building to welcome any and all who would find their way through our doors:  “Come unto me, all you who labor and I will give you rest.”  Compassion.

Now, this story is the only miracle story found in all four of our Gospels. It’s a biggie! But by Matthew’s account, we don’t know what Jesus said to these people who had followed him to this new deserted place.  It may be that he didn’t say much at all. But Jesus and these people were connected with a shared and common desire – they both needed consolation and encouragement. It may be, in part, that the grief Jesus was experiencing was what propelled him to have compassion for these people. Sometimes healing comes to us as we share what we have to bring healing to others.  Matthew’s account says simply, “He healed their sick.”  Maybe Jesus pulled out an old sermon (they teach you to always carry a sermon around in your back pocket just in case), but Matthew just says, “He healed their sick.”  He didn’t ask any to sign a doctrinal statement or make a pledge.  He didn’t tell them to “check with the Baptist church across the street” or ask where they stood on a divisive political issue. Even Jesus could not shift his aunt’s political beliefs over Facebook. And, it seems to me, when we’ve been hit hard by grief, we see another’s humanity more so than the labels we tend to see otherwise. Out of his compassion, Jesus gave of himself what he had to make somebody’s pain and struggle less so.

Poet Carol Lynn Pearson notes something similar about giving compassionately from the gut…how it helps others and helps her own spirit in the giving.  She writes about being a blood donor:

“I love giving blood.  Sometimes I walk in off the street when no one has even asked and roll up my sleeve.  I love lying on the table watching my blood flow through the scarlet tube to fill the little bag that bears no address. I love the mystery of its destination. It runs as easily to child or woman or man, black or white, Californian or Asian, Methodist, Mormon, Muslim or Jew.  Rain does too. Rivers do. I think God does. We do not.  Our suspicious egos clot on the journey from “us” to “them.” So I give blood to practice flowing, never knowing where it’s going and glad.”[2]

She, like Jesus, shares what she has because she can. What do you have to share because you can?

The backdrop of this story, the grief of Jesus, his healing of the sick, all leads up to the end of this long day when we reach the part of the story most people tend to remember. One Grand Slam Breakfast from Denny’s feeds the whole crowd.  The disciples do what we probably would do.  They’re tired too… Jesus took off on the SeaDoo and they were probably like, “Um kay?” Did they have to funnel along with the crowd to find him again? Had they not earned at least a private boat for the entourage? The sun was sinking and they were surely exhausted and hungry themselves. But Jesus is just healing one after another and they may have felt like they needed to rescue him for his own good from the demands of the crowd. So a few of them make the approach on behalf of the group. “Well, Jesus. We were thinking you should send these people on their way… it’s late and the Taco Tuesday special runs out in about forty-five minutes.”  But Jesus is laser focused… his compassion either has him working in overdrive or he’s prepping to teach his core team to be resourceful. If this movement was to move beyond Jesus at some point, these disciples were going to have to figure some of this sharing and serving and compassion stuff out.

Jesus says back, “You guys get them something to eat.” Nothing but blank stares.  It’s not even comical at this point. The disciples are hangry, you know?  But one of them plays along, “Jesus, a year’s salary couldn’t buy happy meals for everybody here.”  Jesus knows a moment is coming so he rubs the mud from his thumbs on his pants as he’s just given sight to another impaired seeker. “Whatayou got, guys?” Holding a boxed lunch, the disciple says, “Fish and chips for two.”  Jesus looks up and scans the crowd – 5,000 men the text says along with women and children who, by golly we’re going to count so what, maybe 15-20 thousand. Jesus just smiles looking back at his frustrated disciples, “Got any tarder sauce?  Give it to me.”  And what happens next is what happens at this communion table every week – one loaf that feeds the whole crowd.  Jesus does the same thing in that moment as he does in the upper room with the disciples when he instituted the Lord’s Supper. It’s that same four-fold formula:  “Take, Bless, Break, Give.”  It reads just like this: “Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds.”  Take. Bless. Break. Give.

As the story winds up, the food is passed, everyone eats and there are twelve baskets left.  The Greek may translate better, “Twelve lunch pails,” remain which I think is awesome.  To me, this is symbolic of each one of the twelve disciples getting schooled in sharing. Jesus packs up the leftovers in twelve lunch pails – and I like to picture kids lunch pails like Star Wars themed or WWE Wrestling or something.  I see Jesus giving a lunch pail to each disciple saying, “Don’t forget what we’re capable of together.  Here’s your starter kit for the next miracle you’ll work again tomorrow.”  They thought they had nothing.  Jesus says, “Bring to me what you got.” And my, oh my…

It’s a good reminder that we need to take stock ourselves, asking the question, “What do I have to share?”  You have five apples, give away three. Compassion starts in sharing what we already have in abundance. It may be apples or computers or an afternoon a week to tutor a child who has no adult that takes interest in their education.  It may be carpentry skills or child-care abilities or an interest in teaching English as a Second Language.  It might be preparing a meal for our Family Promise families.  If you step in this way every day you begin to see that such a lifestyle is a way of achieving the balance between your own personal abundance and the world’s pressing needs. In time, this way of life becomes a part of you – like exercise for some or Sudoku puzzles for others.  You just know that a part of your daily effort on this planet is to balance your abundance with the need of another.  We might call this compassionship.  I was with a group of ministers a few years ago on retreat in Arizona and met Martin for the first time.  He had only been speaking English for a couple of years but was working hard to learn it well.  As he led a devotion in a broken accent, he came across the word companionship but he pronounced it compassionship.  It was my new favorite word.  Imagine building relationships that you can call compassionships. You share your abundance. They share their abundance. Everyone gets better.

Jesus was healing his own grief-stricken spirit as he healed the bodies of the sick. He was teaching the disciples to grow their vision, to share what they had, to grow in faith.  Everyone was winning here. This is what happens when we let the Good News be the Good News that it is intended to be. We don’t save it for ourselves feeling there isn’t enough to go around. We share. Jen Hatmaker, a provocative writer who moved from the benefits of suburban privilege to choosing to live more closely to those in greater need, “Yes. If the Good News of Jesus is not also true for a poor, single, Christian mom in Haiti, then it’s not true.”  If it’s not true for our Puerto Rican brothers and sisters who’ve been looking for some to come with their lunch pails to multiply the healing still needed in that land, then it’s no good for us either.  If it’s not true for the person sitting in this space today who has been burned again and again by the church who’s thinking, “This is my final try with this church thing” then it’s not true.

I just completed my four years of service representing our church on the Week of Compassion[3] Advisory Committee.  Nearly three years ago now, I traveled with the committee to China to visit some of our mission partners there.  Now I’m from a tiny, rural, northern Missouri town (if you didn’t pick that up from the dirt road muddin’ comment earlier in the sermon) and honestly never imagined going to China in my lifetime. But it was a deeply powerful experience to visit Christian orphanages and Seminaries and care homes for the elderly, schools for children with special needs and other programs for which we shared compassionships or partnerships.  In the middle of the trip, we ended up in the middle of nowhere China… I mean we were in deep at this point. We entered a little village called “Red Flower” in English.  We were greeted by a little church choir who sang to us wearing their brand new choir robes of which they were so proud.  And we met a saint of the church, a beautiful woman of 102 years, who had never met a foreigner before.  She smiled and clapped as their choir sang and as we offered a spontaneous song back to them too. She held my face in her hands and offered me a blessing. I wonder if she’s celebrating 105 years soon or if she’s joined the resurrection.  If the Good News isn’t true for her, it’s not true for me. That woman loved her some Jesus.

But what really struck me was when we ventured out to the edge of that village into a field, the hillside if you will, and stopped among the crops and, particularly, this orchard of fruit trees that a Week of Compassion partner organization had helped the community plant and tend which multiplied the income of their village exponentially.  I stood in that field arms wide open; my mind flashing with all that we had seen of Week of Compassion’s impact and thought back to the last special offering we shared at HACC for this ministry earlier that year.  I remembered Carrie and I praying over the gift we would give and wondering how it could possibly make a dent in the great needs of the world. But our gift along with yours made for the largest special offering to Week of Compassion of any congregation in the United States and Canada that year.  Can you believe that Harvard Avenue Christian Church?  And then there I was, arm around a saint of China, arms around a Chinese orphan, arms around a huge class of seminarians, and now arms open wide in a field where our small gifts, in the hands of Jesus, were changing the world – saying, “We believe the Gospel is good news for everyone.” Maybe it’s an open fridge.  Maybe it’s an open heart.  What will you share? When we’re partners, it’s just a balance of giving and receiving as there is need. Sometimes these partners are people we’ll never meet and never know but we give financially and there is a wholeness that comes in the giving.  Sometimes, however, partners become brothers, sisters – and we carry each other. Give your gifts. Give yourself. Sharing is a beautiful thing.

[1] Kassam, Ashifa. “The solidarity fridge: Spanish town’s cool way to cut food waste.” theguardian.com. June 25, 2015. I discovered this source via Homiletics in their coverage of this Matthean text in a message, “Solidarity Feeding.” Their commentary on the text also contributed to this message. A second source includes “Social fridges’ open in Argentina as poverty rises.” todayonline.com. May 11, 2016.
[2] This particular word was shared via a friend on Face Book.  To learn more about Pearson, visit http://carollynnpearson.com/
[3] www.weekofcompassion.org

text :: Exodus 17: 1 – 7

theme verse :: “Moses called the place Massah because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’”(Exodus 17:7)

Watching paint dry or grass grow were often sayings dropped when people were describing less-than-exciting experiences. Today’s culture supports immediate gratification and access to all you want whenever you want it. Such creates a culture of little patience. It’s insignificant when waiting in line perhaps but much more challenging when it comes to providing care for loved ones, raising children, or accomplishing long term goals. Currently, the world’s longest experiment leaves observers waiting around for something to happen only once every eight or nine years. How does that compare to God’s patience? How does practicing patience grow our own spirits?

opening :: 'Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing' (arr.S.DeFord) :: Greta Metzer, soprano sax; Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano

reader :: Geoff Brewster
preaching :: Rev Mark Briley

closing :: 'Seasons' (HillsongWorship) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

Exodus 17: 1 – 7
From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. ² The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” ³ But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” ⁴ So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” ⁵ The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. ⁶ I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. ⁷ He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”
* * * * *

“Is the Lord among us or not?”  Boom!  That is such a mic drop question.  Is it rhetorical?  Was Moses asking it with a bit of an edge to him… a little frustrated that the people were down his neck about finding water?  “There’s your water, people. Ha!  Is the Lord among us or not?”  “Is the Lord among us or not?”  I think it’s truly a fair question to ask of us now, today… you and me, living amid various situations, wondering if God’s a part of the movement or lack thereof of our lives.  We may ask that question in the hard times… as if we’re testing our own trust of God – “Is the Lord among us or not?”  And maybe we ask it less when things are floating by relatively smoothly.  After all, do we really need God then?  Does it matter then if the Lord is among us or not?  Hmmm.  And here we all are, each at a different point of life, each one contemplating the biggest questions of life with different levels of interest; each of us suffering in some way and hopefully thriving in another.  Here we are all so very different and yet all so very much the same.

I’ve been on a bit of a Schlotzsky’s kick of late.  Do you do that?  Find a little place you like to eat and find yourself going back over and over?  Or maybe it’s Avocado toast or a certain cup of coffee or whatever it may be.  A friend of mine got me on this little Schlotzsky’s kick.  It’s not an obsession and I’m not getting any kick-backs from Schlotzsky’s for the name-drop here but I was taken by their cup which has this beautiful tapestry of humanity pictured on the side  – all shapes, colors and varieties with a message that says:  19 people:  That’s all we could pack into the handful of family-style tables and counter seats in our tiny shop on South Congress Street in Austin back in 1971. Everyone – hippies and politicians, artists and farmers – sat side-by-side.  We’ve always believed that whether it’s food or people, when you welcome all flavors, you get an experience to savor.  That’s our spirit of originality. GLAD YOU’RE HERE!  And of course, I’m always thinking about church. Here we are, all God’s children, making the journey on our own and together – wondering if God, or anyone else, is glad we’re here; curious if there is any real purpose for our existence.  I’d put your picture on a side of a cup if I could so that you might know I’m glad you’re here… not just in this sanctuary in this moment, but here in the world, eager, longing, yearning for a life that is full and meaningful.  A life that is whole.

WHOLENESS is our congregational star word, our focal word, in 2019.  That word rose from your prayer requests, your hopes and dreams, shared with our ministerial team late last fall.  We’re diving into that wondering directly this month with this series we’re calling, “(y)our whole life.”  I took a little good natured ribbing from some last week about this title – the parentheticals and double entrendre.  “Is anything straight forward, Briley?”  And I admit to having a little fun with titles, knowing everyone will look at even titles from varied perspectives. What is your way into the Gospel?  How do you see even a title from a spiritual perspective?  It was like one pastor who posted out on the sign along the street in front of the church.  “Next Sunday’s Sermon: “The Church Member I’d Most Like to Go to Hell.”  The church was packed next Sunday, everyone anxious to see who got under the pastor’s skin. Of course, the sermon was about one of the elderly church saints who the pastor wanted to send to hell to convert all those souls and draw them to the heavens.  People were disappointed. Everyone wants the dirt more than they want grace.

(y)our whole life.  The parenthesis around the ‘y’ give space for this to be an individual transformation even as the ‘our’ makes it a collective one.  This is always true.  We’re all interconnected.  One of us is transformed, all of us are affected.  One of us falls away, we all feel the impact. So that’s happening and the word ‘whole’ speaks to what it means to have a whole, fulfilling, peace-filled life and also can speak to the duration of our lives… something that will carry us not just for a while but for our whole lives.  So, we’re considering, in this five-week series, several virtues or characteristics or spiritual disciplines that may help us find wholeness in our lives.

Kevin launched us well last week with a look at courage.  And when we talked about the flow of the series, we initially questioned having “patience” as the follow up to courage.  After all, courage involves a certain “GO!” quality to it while patience has a certain “WAIT!” quality to it. It’s like that feeling of learning to drive a stick-shift.  You don’t quite get that shift down and your grinding it until you find it and the car just starts convulsing forward in this start-stop-start-stop sort of motion.  But our reality is often that we resist the courage to go because we know we’re not patient enough to wait, endure, suffer through the transformation of time and hardship that comes with letting go of something to imagine something more aligned with God’s passion for our lives.  And so, today, we sit a while with patience.

I’ve yet to meet someone who doesn’t feel like they could be a more patient person.  In fact, more than a couple of people this week, knowing this was our topic, joked about “So-and-so really needs to be there,” or “I’ll make sure I get my husband there this Sunday.”  It was all tongue-in-cheek fun but there’s some underlying truth… patience is not a natural inclination for most any of us.  It’s sort of like someone saying to me recently: “Being an adult is like folding a fitted sheet. No one really knows how to do it.”  If that’s true, then being patient is sort of like trying to put that same fitted sheet on the mattress… we seldom get it on there the right way on the first try. I swear I can hold it up, look it over, be confident in the direction it belongs on the bed and sure enough I’ve got it stretched the wrong way and I plead in my angst, “Is the Lord among us or not?!”  Kidding aside, I will say this:  Most of the deepest and profound moments of spiritual growth I’ve experienced in my life started with the thought or internal shout, “I don’t have time for this.”

And so we join such a spirited bunch of folks in the book of Exodus. They are in the throes of what many a scholar have called “the complaint narratives.”  By the time we’ve reached chapter 17, many of the preceding chapters include a great complaint.  The people have been oppressed and enslaved and Moses leads them through the parted sea into a free world but, as you can imagine, a whole new set of issues arise in such freedom.  But they’ve only been in the wilderness for about two and a half months … easy for me to say ‘only’ of course… but in chapter 14 they panic when the Egyptians are pursuing them and complain bitterly to Moses about why he brought them out there in the first place. He’s like, “Uh, remember where we came from?”  In chapter 15, it’s the water at Marah that they don’t like – too bitter. It was no Aquafina.  In chapter 16, it’s the lack of food and yet the provision of manna comes to sustain them but then the manna doesn’t taste so good, “thanks but no thanks.”  And now it’s thirst which is not something to squawk at, right?  Water is a necessity.  Jesus tells the disciples when they’ve said the people are hungry and thirsty, “You give them something to eat and drink.”  He says in Matthew 25, “When you take care of the least of these with the essentials of clothing and food and water, you’ve honored me.”  So, who are we to say, “Just be patient people and water will come eventually.”  It’s way easier to be patient when your needs are met and when you’re not the one who is stressed.  I mean, I was a much more patient parent before I had kids.

And, to look at this honestly, the notion of patience as passive waiting is a false conception often used by those with power or privilege to keep marginalized people under control.  We have another matter of sin to consider if we’re demanding patience of those being oppressed while all our needs are comfortably met.  Don’t confuse the virtue of patience we imagine today with a freedom to oppress another.  This is about our own heart work.  If the Latin root word of courage is heart, couple that with the root word of patience in Latin which means enduring suffering.  Have enough heart to endure the suffering – which collectively points us to compassion – the idea of having heart enough to endure the suffering of others.

Where the complaint narrative of the Israelites wandering the wilderness intersects our own complaint narratives is the hardening of the heart. Patience is about keeping our heart soft enough not to lose ourselves in the struggles of life. Impatience has been defined as an “inner restlessness… experiencing the moment as empty, useless, meaningless.  It is wanting to escape from the here and now as soon as possible.”[1]  Who of us hasn’t experienced that reality? Some of you are feeling this right now! When you get frustrated and impatient with some person or some situation or even some moment, don’t you know that feeling?  “This is a waste of time.  This moment is empty.  It’s useless!  It’s meaningless!” and you follow that emotional outburst with a “Get me out of here, now!”  This is where courage implores us not to give up.  It’s why Jacob won’t let go of the angel when they’re wrestling near the Jabbok.  Jacob has the angel in a headlock and yells, “I won’t let you go until I get a blessing out of this.”  Now Jacob walks away from that knock down drag out with a limp that he carries the rest of his life.  We all have some scars from things we have long endured… but it also takes that enduring patience … that courage to stay engaged… to find a later blessing, even if we don’t understand it all at the time. Maybe we can begin to understand patience as growing into a third way between the polar extremes of fight and flight.  In patience, we learn to abide … or be present in… each particular moment, finding it not empty after all but rather full of the grace of God.  Easier said than done.

Moses asking the people to be patient wasn’t going to make them be patient.  I mean, who becomes patient just because someone demands, “Be patient!”  Aren’t we typically more resentful at that point… or even ramp up our impatience?  “Calm Down?  You don’t tell me to calm down.”  No.  Patience isn’t an instant virtue any more than doing one sit up will give you instant six pack abs.  Tertullian, prolific Christian writer just a hundred years after Jesus walked the earth, says patience is tied closely to the virtue of love.  He reminds us that the first word used to describe love in Paul’s Love Chapter, 1 Corinthians 13 is patience.  It’s something we work at. And, like love, it’s worth it.  I’ve never met someone who doesn’t admire the patience of another.  When we witness someone being patient, we admire it.  When we witness someone blowing up or losing their cool, we don’t admire that spirit nearly as much. We all long for the gift of patience but we seldom want to work at it.  But if it is something we truly, ultimately want, we have to put in the practice now to reap its full gift later in life.  A father with kids now grown recently said, “I guarantee you’re going to want to be respected by your adult children.”  It’s not a given.  Such respect is earned.  What we’re doing now is building that opportunity… or not.  Don’t harden your heart… no matter what suffering you are currently enduring.  Stay steady. Stay open. Allow others to come alongside of you and be willing to come alongside another in their time of suffering. That is the gift of patience.  “Is the Lord among us or not?”  We may answer that question to others by our patient presence.

Tertullian says we work on bodily patience as well as spiritual patience.  He says by denying ourselves the lusts of the flesh by maintaining a simple diet and drink and fasting for example, we prepare our bodies for times when we are subjected to persecution, including prison and martyrdom which were very real threats in his time.  We’re not good at denying ourselves every pleasure which the practice of such convenience makes us less and less patient as individual’s and as a society.  It’s why the “door close” button is the most pressed in any elevator.  We want to quicken what is, on average, only a two-second wait.  It’s why if we’ll learn to discipline our now cravings, we’ll be more equipped to serve more faithfully even in the lean years. It’s Dave Ramsey’s, “Live like no one else so you can live like no one else.”

All well and good, Briley, but we’re thirsty!  We’re suffering!  And I understand. I succumb to stresses in my life at times and don’t always practice patience well.  But a hardened heart is what we seek to avoid.  It’s why Chris Smith and John Pattison wrote a book called, “Slow Church: Cultivating Community in the Patient Way of Jesus.”  They say, “Patience can hold us together when other forces conspire to rip us asunder.  The forces of fragmentation often emerge through the sufferings of others – including financial difficulties; addiction to pornography; infidelity; the alienation of members based on economics, race, age, sexual orientation and so on; and fears that lead to divisive behaviors like gossip and power grabbing. In those difficult times, it’s natural for us to want to fix these struggles from a distance or to run from them altogether. But we learn patience by immersion, journeying faithfully alongside those who are suffering. It’s easy, for example, to lob advice or judgment when a friend’s marriage is falling apart. It’s more complex, and more demanding, to sit down with the couple, to listen, to work slowly and conversationally toward healing, to celebrate reconciliation or to grieve a divorce.”[2]

It seems our quest for wholeness does not include an avoidance of suffering or always taking the easy road.  It’s the courage to risk, to engage, to invest the time and energy into relationships, and the patience to be present with ourselves, one another, and with our Maker as we make our way to experiencing the blessing.  Sheri Dew wrote a book whose title captured me first. It’s called, “If Life Were Easy, It Wouldn’t be Hard:  And Other Reassuring Truths.”  Sounds like something Yogi Berra might have written.  But she challenges us as people of faith:  “If you’re serious about sanctification… (which is a churchy word but essentially means becoming holy – we might say, “If you’re serious about growing in your faith, becoming more like Jesus…” ) she says, “You can expect to experience heart-wrenching moments that try your faith, your endurance and your patience.” It’s not a matter of if but when and how often.

What are you doing with your inner-restlessness?  I know it’s a struggle.  I heard someone say, “I can’t wait to go to bed tonight and stay up thinking about all the things I can’t control.”  Impatience with our circumstances fuels our anxiety and I know that is a real struggle for many of us. But what if we could gain some quiet space each day, even a few minutes to start, where we work at patience…. Where we find the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us.  “Do we believe the Lord is among us or not?”

Moses – found his way to Mt. Sinai and with his trusty staff that had served him through many a pinch… and even just the day to day steps of his living, is told by God to strike the rock in just a certain way and find the flow of water for the people to drink.  I have this image of Moses holding a Heinz ketchup bottle unable to get anything out of the bottle. He’s pounding on the bottom of the bottle and hitting it harder and harder all the time… and I picture God saying, “No, Moses.  Just tip the bottle like so and tap on that little mark on the side of the bottle and watch it flow.”  We live with a squeeze bottle faith – we want access to what we want when we want it but life is more often like that glass ketchup bottle. We bang around impatiently and live constantly frustrated that things don’t flow our way.

I gave a gentleman a ride this week. We’ll call him Bernie.  He came into the church a bit panicked about a place he needed to be and quickly.  As circumstances played out, I decided to take this new friend to where he needed to be.  On our way to the car and every second of our ten-minute drive, he filled the space with the story of his life…. Hundred miles a minute.  And, at least a dozen times he prefaced what he said next with “Pardon my French but…”  Now, I took two years of French in high school and I promise you, nothing he said was French.  He was eight months clean, however, holding down a job longer than ever before in his life and trying to do the right things.  He said, “You know, I’ve had much greater struggle since I’ve been doing all the right things than I ever did when I was doing all the wrong things.” You may know that feeling.  But he looked at me and smiled before he got out of my car after telling me all of this and said, “But I believe God’s gonna do something with my life yet.”  He shut the door and all I could hear was that pesky question of Moses: “Is the Lord among us or not?”

Bernie and I have very different lives and he speaks way more French than I do… but at least in that moment, we both seemed to believe in the slow work of God. His patience that day may have gotten him a ride.  My patience afforded me some perspective that I really needed in that moment without even knowing it.  That’s the gift of patience. Tertullian says it like this…

“Patience fortifies faith; is the pilot of peace; assists charity; establishes humility; waits long for repentance; sets her seal on confession; rules the flesh; preserves the sprit; bridles the tongue; restrains the hand; tramples temptations under foot; drives away scandals; … consoles the poor; teaches the rich moderation; overstrains not the weak; exhausts not the strong; is the delight of the believer.”

Whether you’re at home or church, Schlotzsky’s or some stuck place in your life… I pray that patience will be a developing companion.  It is a friend that will help us always to answer the question, “Is the Lord among us or not?” with a soft-heart and affirmative “Yes. The Lord is with us; now and forever.” Amen.

[1] From Henri Nouwen, Donald McNeill and Douglas Morrison’s book, “Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life.” Utilized here as shared in “Slow Church.”  See next reference.[2] Slow Church: Cultivating Community in the Patient Way of Jesus.  C. Christopher Smith & John Pattison.  IVP Books. 2014.  This quote as well as the quotes from Tertullian come from this book within the chapter entitled, “Patience: Entering into the Suffering of Others.”

text : Luke 4:21-30

theme verse : “When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage.” (Luke 4:28)

The major themes of 2018, according to those who study the frequency of cultural conversation, include immigration, the #MeToo movement, possible Russian interference in the 2016 election and –fake news. The idea of fake news refers to published information intentionally designed to mislead. Fake news has many names: “propaganda,” “misinformation,” “yellowjournalism,” “libel” and even “lies.” Yet recently, some people have broadened the concept of “fake news” to mean any reports or political news that they don’t like —regardless of the veracity of the information. Then, not only the news but the source of the news is attacked.It’s a new version of “kill the messenger.”While this exploded on the scene in a broad way last year, the cry of “fake news” has a much longer history. Just ask Jesus. How are we to decipher ‘fake news’ from the Good News?

anthem : 'To Love Our God' (M.Hayes) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director

reader : Kaye Nofziger
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

special music : 'Guiding Light' (Mumford&Sons) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

offertory : 'Amazing Grace' (arr.J.Althouse) :: Todd Maxwell, vocal & Susie Monger Daugherty, piano

There was a lively family debate in the car one night this week.  My daughter was talking about YouTuber’s – essentially people who have their own YouTube channel and post videos on their YouTube channel for a living.  Morgan was arguing how much money you could make as YouTuber commenting that every day she learns of another billionaire YouTuber.  Taking this all in, my seven-year-old son, Hayes, blatantly shouts out “Fake!”  I had never heard that retort from him before.  I interjected to clarify Hayes’ comment which he quickly said, “Fake news, Dad.  There’s no way there’s a new billionaire YouTuber every day.”  Beyond the debate itself, I was taken by Hayes’ use of “Fake!” as a comeback. It totally affirmed what I’ve been reading of late.  According to those who study the frequency of cultural conversation, the major themes of 2018 included immigration, the #MeToo movement, foreign interference in American elections and fake news.  The idea of fake news, of course, refers to published information intentionally designed to mislead.  We know it by other names including propaganda, misinformation, yellow journalism, libel and even flat out lies.  This has been a long-standing point of contention.

“The 1796 presidential race between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson was notorious for smear tactics carried out by the newspapers of the day.  Jefferson’s supporters let it be known that Adams wanted to be king of the United States by trying to marry off one of his sons to a daughter of English King George III, a move blocked by George Washington who intervened just in time to stop it, or so the story goes. The political conversation remained riddled with false facts, with newspapers reporting, for example, that if Jefferson were president, “Murder, robbery, rape, adultery and incest will be openly taught and practiced,” that the country would be “soaked with blood, and the nation dark with crimes.” Political parties owned newspapers in those days. There was no independent media.”[1]

While this has clearly been an issue for some time, it seems we’ve ramped up the cry of fake news of late, broadening the concept to refer to any reports or political news that we don’t like regardless of the veracity of the information.  And, we’re all over each other about everything and immediately discount anything that doesn’t fit with our current and embedded ideologies which just makes life much easier I suppose.  I don’t have to listen any more to any one else and to end any dialogue, my seven-year-old can yell, “Fake!” and the conversation is over. This is problematic on multiple levels and is driving us further and further apart. It’s what Science Mike calls our latest addiction as a culture – “OUTRAGE.” We’re addicted to outrage and that addiction is being fueled like never before.  Jesus had his own experience of being accused of ‘fake news’ centuries ago and I wonder what guidance we can glean through his experience that may be an important guiding light for us during this incredible time and place that we find ourselves doing life together.

The story in Dr. Luke’s account is fascinating. Jesus had recently submitted himself to baptism. That is remarkable in itself and a message for another day.  Jesus stood in line with others who John was baptizing so that “he also” might be baptized.  Fred Craddock says those two words, “he also,” “Jesus also” may be the most important two words in scripture.  Why would the sinless one need to repent and be baptized?  It’s an expression of astonishing humility and solidarity.  Just imagine. In Jesus, God comes alongside of us, even to the point of joining us in a rite of passage like baptism.  May his act humble us with the reminder that arrogance has no place in Christian discipleship.  If Jesus undergoes this rite of conversion, how much more should we live humble, unpretentious lives of conversion?  So… Jesus is baptized, and he enters the wilderness for forty days to get his heart and soul ready for the ministry ahead.  Spiritual boot camp full of temptation and heartache and loneliness and discipline.  His time blows away any reality show challenge that we’ll watch for hours on end.  That trial complete, the “devil retreating temporarily to wait for a more opportune time,” what does Jesus do next?  He goes home. Takes a shower probably – it’s been forty days after all. He goes to the Coney Islander or whatever that place is that he has a hankering for like a college student come home for winter break. But then what?  He goes to his hometown synagogue on the Sabbath… “as was his custom.”  Given what we know about Jesus and his departure from the orthodoxy of his youth, there must have been many things with which he radically disagreed and that grated on him as he went to worship.  Yet Jesus went, as was his custom, to honor his love of God and to worship with his community.

He was given the scroll to read from the scriptures in worship.  The church folks had been proud of Jesus.  They had raised him and encouraged him in his studies.  It was a treat to have him home and to hear him read the scripture. He reads from Isaiah 61:1-2 (his source) and he offers this news: 

It’s a good a reliable source for that community.  But is it fake news?  Interesting.  If you compare Jesus’ rendition of those two verses of the prophet with what Isaiah actually offers, you’ll see that Jesus stopped short of reading the full passage which contains the line “to proclaim the day of vengeance of our God.”  That seems a significant omission. He omits the piece about vengeance.  Jesus then sits down – which didn’t mean he was done, it meant that he was really just getting started.  Rabbi’s sat to teach.  What Jesus offers next is a bomb:  “Today,” he says, “this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  It seems to be that the parts of Isaiah that he named was sort of the mission statement of his movement of faith. Leaving out the vengeance part, perhaps, means that is not a part of his movement.  The congregation seems to be okay with this at first… in fact, they all seem to look over smiling at Mary who was recording her son’s talk on her iPhone to share with the family later.  They were all proud.  Their own hometown boy is going to do well and it seems they all may benefit from this.  It’s like the neighbor kid that used to TP your yard once a month and wore earbuds all the time so as to never make human contact with you walks into your pre-op room as your surgeon for the day with his Harvard Medical Degree on the wall behind you.  “Isn’t that Joe’s kid?  You know the ornery neighbor kid?”  All of that seems okay, especially as they assume that if Jesus is the Messiah they’ve all waited for their whole lives, knowing him personally and his family should surely bring about some special benefits for them.  It’s not fake news if it benefits you, right?

Methodist pastor, Jacob Lynn[2], says we often respond in this same way. Like most places in Scripture, we find elements of truth about ourselves in people portrayed negatively — like the Nazarene congregation of this text. We welcome Scripture that affirms us, our mindset and our beliefs. We tend to discount, discredit and dissent when confronted with texts with which we disagree. And if we disagree, we’re prone to toss it into the “fake news” pile. Do I allow Jesus to stretch and push my thinking, beliefs and faith, or do I prefer to throw the things with which I disagree off the cliff as the synagogue that raised him will soon attempt to do with Jesus himself?”

Jesus squashes their enthusiasm when he declares that “No prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.”  They’ve maybe just tilted their heads at this point, a tad confused, but Jesus presses forward alluding to two biblical stories that would have been very familiar to them.  The first is a reference to a great famine which God sent the prophet Elijah to a starving gentile widow rather than a starving Hebrew widow.  That irked ‘em a bit.  Why wouldn’t he take a casserole to Mabel –one of the home-centered women in the church instead of that immigrant lady that nobody knows anyway? Several have crossed their arms over their chest by now. Jesus digs a little deeper telling a second story involving the prophet Elisha and his healing ministry with the gentile military officer, Naaman, who had leprosy.  Elisha, apparently, was not sent to heal any of Israel’s lepers. The point is sinking in and not settling well.  Even though Jesus wore a Nazareth High letter jacket in high school and the synagogue scholarshiped Jesus to go to church camp in the summers, they would have no special claim on his powers.  I wonder if Jesus thought he’d be received better than this.  A read of the room quickly tells the story however.  This wasn’t going to end well.

Someone shouts, “Fake news!” and a mob mentality takes over.  The congregation runs Jesus out of the synagogue to a nearby cliff and they’re poking and prodding him to the cliff’s edge. It’s hard to go back in for the church potluck after a moment like this. But they’re so angry and a Snicker’s bar isn’t going to calm anyone down.

Scottish historian Charles Mackay wrote in a work entitled, Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds: He also concluded that people are more prone to believe the “Wondrously False” than the “Wondrously True.”  “Of all the offspring of Time, Error is the most ancient, and is so old and familiar an acquaintance, that Truth, when discovered, comes upon most of us like an intruder and meets the intruder’s welcome.”[3]  Jesus had intruded on their embedded theology and the mob mentality consumed them.  Most any leader who has revolutionized any thought or understanding has been met with such venom.  John Wesley, co-founder of the Methodist movement, as an ordained priest for the Church of England, pressed in his preaching that followers of Jesus might actually attempt to live like Jesus every day.  He was passionate about this message and his journal entries say on such-and-such date he preached at such-and-such church and was thrown out and told never to come back.  Entry after entry.[4]

We tend to not do well with challenging thought. We’d much rather deem it “fake” and burn anyone or anything that suggests otherwise. One of my colleagues from Missouri shared something from a book he was reading that said, “Old Believers in Russia resisted attempts to modernize Eastern Orthodox Christianity.  Some locked themselves in monasteries in the late seventeenth century and burned them to the ground, perishing in the flames, rather than submit to the liturgical changes.” Wild! My friend added, “Sorta takes the “we’ve never done it that way before” to a whole different level.”  Even the guy who came late to synagogue for worship wearing a t-shirt that said, “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come.” Even that guy joined in on the rage of the mob. We are addicted to outrage.

Why they didn’t go ahead and finish Jesus off is unclear.  Did Mary’s friends look at Mary’s tears and have compassion enough to convince the angriest among them to let Jesus go?  Was Jesus allusive enough with moves like Barry Sanders to wiggle his way out of the crowd?  Did the crowd part and Jesus silently walk through the middle of them slowly nodding his head in sad acceptance of the rejection of his own people?  We don’t know for sure.  But we know he goes on his way. The crowd surely starts the gossip grind around town saying, “Jesus is a fake.”  “He’s certainly not one of us.”  This is a real struggle for us too.  If we’re honest and think that our personal take on Jesus is the absolute right and only take on Jesus, we’ve probably got some spiritual work to do ourselves.  If Jesus’ existence and teaching doesn’t challenge us to expand our understanding and push some of the boundaries of our comfort, we’re probably missing something ourselves. The congregation wasn’t outraged or even angry with Jesus until he said that other people, totally different from them, were just as important to God as they were.

The basic ask of Jesus is simply, “Follow me.”  It’s not memorize a doctrine or add on to our lives the parts of his way that benefit us most, leaving the rest behind.  It’s “Follow me.”  And you and I have to decide how we’ll do that.  How do we filter through any particular agenda to walk that path right behind Jesus?  How do you measure your followership?  Is it your creed or your steps?  Jesus says, “Follow.” We have become obsessed with what Christians believe rather than how Christians live. The prominent tab on most churches websites is “What we Believe” but might be more helpful to have a tab that says, “How we Live.”  Jesus was disruptive, trying to invite people into a new way of life.  They were counting laws and Jesus was saying, “Love God with all you have and your neighbor as yourself.” Is that your measurement?  When you watch the news or hear an opinion or see life happen before your eyes, do you jump on the mob mentality or do you ask how, in this situation, might you exhibit your love of God and neighbor?  Or what did Jesus say was fulfilled in their hearing that day?  That the poor would experience good news, captives would be released, the blind would see, the oppressed would go free, and the year of the Lord would be proclaimed.  The only thing he added to that word was that there would be no favoritism toward Israel in the delivery of the ministries cited above. His life was for everyone.

What do I hope for us today?  I hope that we’ll clear through all the layers of anger and division that we’re holding and truly listen to each other again… and for the Spirit of God.  That we might get in step with Jesus who is walking through an angry mob but doesn’t lash back… he simply goes about healing the world.  Take an honest review of your motives and your measuring sticks about what it is to follow Jesus. Somehow, it seems, the guiding light of our faith is finding the joy in that fact that Jesus’ love is expansive … more so than we could ever imagine.  His is a love that will always be a struggle for us to practice because we have some natural inclination to benefit ourselves first, our friends second, our “sides” next and don’t seem to have any love left for those beyond that.

A friend shared a book with me called Unified,  written by a black senator, Tim Scott, and white congressman, Trey Gowdy, who say that we’ve got to stretch ourselves to create unlikely friendships in order to make room for the creation of a unified vision, purpose or melody.  While we need legislative change and need to press those in power to do right by all Americans, they note that we clearly aren’t getting anywhere with loyalty to labels above all else.  Tim and Trey note the limitations and struggle for legislative remedies right now.  You certainly don’t have to buy all they say (or what anyone says) to find common agreement.  What stuck with me was this word: “We believe the firmest foundation for positive change is found with individuals in relationship with one another. Laws are external. Relationships are internal. Policies make you have to. Relationships make you want to. Relationships contain the power necessary to change the course of history, and the delicate, personal touch needed to change the trajectory of a single life.”[5]  Jesus went straight to the relationship and, by example, said, “Follow me.”  If your faith is one that bears Christ’s name, it must expand beyond the immediate ‘what’s in it for me’ to include, ‘what’s in it for all?’  And maybe we reset our current tendencies to dismiss each other with a single word, “Fake!” and say instead, “Okay… I’ll start with him, or her, or them.  I’ll care about them first and foremost before I write them off.”

I want to be more like Jesus… and I continually learn that becoming more like Jesus will cost me something of my own comfort.  But I believe in his way… even when it cuts the grain of our current time and culture and popular thought.  It is the truth of one church leader who said, “Following Jesus makes your life better and will make you better at life.”  It’s why we need to lose the chip on our shoulders and be less concerned with sides and more concerned with where following Jesus actually leads us.  Brian McLaren asks this important question,  “What would it mean for Christians to rediscover their faith not as a problematic system of beliefs, but as a just and generous way of life, rooted in contemplation and expressed in compassion, that makes amends for its mistakes and is dedicated to beloved community for all?”[6]  If Jesus pulled out the scroll and read it aloud to us today and then sat to teach, saying, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing,” how would you respond?  I have to hope we’d ask Jesus to say more, show more, instead of yelling, “Fake!” and running him into the Arkansas River.

And, what’s best?  I have to believe some of those people there in the crowd that day came around to a new understanding and were among those who ultimately heeded Jesus call of “Follow me.”  I believe and hope in that because that means there’s a chance for me yet too… a chance for me to grow, to heal, to advocate, to be forgiven, to serve, to love, to follow, to be more like Jesus.  And that there’s room for even one like me?  Well, that’s not fake news… that’s the Good News of Jesus Christ for all of us.

[1] James W. Cortada, “How new is ‘fake news’?” Oxford University Press Blog, March 23, 2017.[2] Rector First UMC, Rector, Arkansas.
[3] Maureen Dowd, “Going mad in herds,” The New York Times, August 21, 2010.
[4] Also shared by Jacob Lynn, Rector First UMC, Rector, Arkansas.
[5] Unified: How Our Unlikely Friendship Gives Us Hope for a Divided Country.  Tim Scott & Trey Gowdy. Tyndale House Publishers. 2018.
[6] The Great Spiritual Migration.  Brian McLaren. The Crown Publishing Group. 2016.

text : 1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50

theme verse : “Fool! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.” (1 Corinthians 15:36)

27,339. That’s the number of Starbucks in the world... for now. The world is enamored with a pricey cup of coffee, free wifi and a chance to people watch from a sidewalk patio. A new movement, albeit otherwise focused, is forming in the world of sidewalk cafes. They’recalled Death Cafés. It sounds macabre. It’s not part of the Goth culture. It’s not a fringe gaming movement for those fixated on darkness and the netherworld. A Death Café is agathering point for discussions about death. In a death-defying culture, it’s important to understand death so that we can begin to appreciate the reality of life to which death is but a portal.Isthere a guiding light to be found even in the darkness of death?

opening : 'Take My Life' (C.Tomlin arr) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

reader : Sally Kelley
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

anthem : 'Joy in the Morning' (Sleeth) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director

I’m guessing all of you woke up this morning excited to get to worship today.  I hope so, anyway.  And I’m guessing as that smile spanned your face when you woke up and realized it’s Sunday and you get to come to church that your first thought was, “I sure hope the sermon’s about death today!” Anyone?  No?  That surprises me.  Not really, I guess. Death’s not anyone’s favorite subject unless you’re talking zombies or sci-fi stuff or getting ready to watch Law & Order – people seem drawn to death then.  But otherwise, you probably envision a number of other more uplifting topics you’d prefer to discuss this morning… like five simple tips to achieve your New Year’s Resolutions.  Someone shared with me the easiest way to do that this week by sharing this 

Maybe that’s how to get us to actually talk about death – discovering how to avoid it altogether.  Would you believe, however, that the trend is actually moving the other direction?  It’s true. They’re called Death Cafes and the movement is growing.

If you’re like me, your first thought is, “What?!!? Death Cafes? That sounds terrible.”  Maybe the café part is the draw.  Sidewalk cafes are all the rage any more.  In 1971, a little place called Starbucks opened in Seattle.  Perhaps you’ve heard of it.  Last I checked, there are 27,339 Starbucks in the world.  They tend to open so quickly, a satirical cartoon announced that a new Starbucks was set to open in the bathroom of an existing Starbucks. We seem enamored with a pricey cup of coffee, free Wi-Fi and a chance to be around other people working, conversing, meeting, or simply walking down the sidewalk.  Howard Schultz, who created Starbucks as we know it, had this vision to create a Third Place for people to gather.  His thought was that most people have a home, a place of work, and then had need and room in their life for a Third Place.  He was determined to create such a place.  It was his version of Cheers because sometimes you wanna go?…   (Where everybody knows your name). There have been plenty of church growth books that have centered around Schultz’s creation of a third place.  But that’s for another day, another conversation.  We get it… Starbucks has succeeded.  But what is this Death Café nonsense?  It sounds so morbid or at least, very dark and sad.  The Death Café[1] began in England only nine years ago. It may sound like a place for the dying, but the opposite is actually the intent.  It’s designed to help people make the most out of their lives through a greater awareness of death.

There are now more than 900 regular Death Café events taking place in 19 countries across the world where people simply come together and talk about heavy topics over light refreshments.  I’ve learned that there’s a monthly Death Café gathering held here in our own city.[2]  Every meeting begins with cake and a question: “Why are you here?”  the unscripted discussion flows from that single question.  The cafes are not designed to be grief support groups though it is sometimes grief of such loss that brings people to the cafes initially.

It was certainly the case for Linda Potter.  In the span of four years, she lost a close aunt to brain cancer, her father to colon cancer and her nephew to drowning as the result of a seizure.  She started to channel her grief through her work as a retreat coach. Her driving question? “How do you want to live, knowing you are going to die?”  Linda heard about the Death Café movement on National Public Radio and she decided to lead one at her Presbyterian church in New York. She recruited participants from nearby colleges, one that offers a mortuary science major.  She has cultivated quite a strong following in the past four years of starting this movement in her area.  She’s been particularly amazed by the interest of Millennials.  She told about one occasion where a couple college students showed up for a Café.  They intended to leave at intermission but decided to stay after hearing the story of a Veteran with stage III cancer. They recognized they had much they could glean from listening to others, and sharing themselves, thoughts about death.  Potter said 

This sounds a lot like the Apostle Paul to me, who said in our focal passage for today, “Fool! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.”  The translation of this verse by one scholar and theologian reads, “I pity the fool who thinks death is the end game.” That scholar of course none other than… Mr. T.  Of course.  Paul was guiding a people in a faith-filled conversation.  We would do well to remember that.  He’s talking about things with these folks that no one really knows anything about.  He’s not teaching a science class.  He’s talking faith. He’s using the best of his human limitations with words and descriptions to describe something otherworldly.  It’s every preacher’s hindrance. We’re so limited.  You want to know about heaven and all I can tell you is a story about playing ping pong with my brother on New Year’s Day. I actually love this humbling quote by Barbara Brown Taylor that says 

I think this extends to our sense of insufficiency as witnesses of our Christian faith.  We think, “I don’t know what to say about my faith.  I don’t know how to influence others for Christ.”  But we are… every day, all the time.  How do we rise and fall?  How do we handle defeat?  How do we respond to suffering? Our own as well as the suffering of others?  This all matters.

So… here’s Paul writing this letter of course, but let’s imagine it as though he is giving his best shot at hosting a Death Café where people are saying, “Okay… so there’s a resurrection of the body. Great. But what kind of body will it be?”  It’s like people are putting in requests… “If I could, I’d prefer my resurrected body look like one of the Hemsworth Brothers or Idris Elba or whoever your body ideal is these days.” Pauly Shore. Everyone’s different. The Apostle Paul says, “No, no, no.  It’s not like that. How can I say this?”  He says, “I can’t draw you a diagram or show you a picture. Hmmm. There.” (and he points to a tree in the background). “Where did that tree come from?” “Lowes!” some smart aleck yells from the crowd.  There’s always at least one.  Undeterred, Paul says, “It started as a simple seed; something so innocent and seemingly insignificant.  In fact, it serves little purpose if any until it’s planted.  And when it’s planted, it dies. But it rises again, and it does so with a very different kind of body from that of which it was sown.”  Despite its dissolution and difference, it is the same seed. Paul is saying the same is true of us. Though dissolved by death and changed by resurrection, the essence of our soul is the same… only now we are prepared for the new life for which we were resurrected – to bask in the presence of Christ forever.  This is an other-worldly conversation about the afterlife in some ways but it no less applies to our daily living.

My homiletics professor, Rev. Dr. Dan Moseley, came to an understanding that for any spiritual growth to occur, something has to die… that death may be some level of comfort, some embedded belief from our childhood, some sacrifice of material wealth or some significant loss.  Your resolution to get in better physical shape doesn’t come without a loss of calories, a shift in your day to prioritize exercise, etc.  Remember, discipline is just deciding between what you want now and what you want most.  Your spiritual health is the same.  It’s not simply an add on.  It only improves with loss and sacrifice and shift in priorities.  Something has to die in order to be resurrected.  Author Jonathan Martin says 

“But,” we protest, “I don’t want to go through those losses to experience the gains.”  I get that. Nobody sets out intentionally to “learn from their mistakes.”  But it’s the falling and rising again cycle that ultimately creates a tree when we can only see the seed.

David Bayles and Ted Orland in their book Art and Fear tell the story of a ceramics teacher who divided the class into two groups – one group would be graded on how much they created in the designated time, while the other group would be graded on the quality of the one work they made.  In the end, it was the “quantity” group that ended up producing the works of most quality.  That surprised me at first. But here’s why they concluded such was the case.  “While the ‘quantity’ group was busy churning out piles of work – and learning from their mistakes – the ‘quality’ group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.” Rob Bell noted this story and said, “This isn’t true just for ceramics students.”  He said, “When I’m meeting with my counselor and I use words like “mistake” or “failure” or “waste,” he stops me.  He then reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a sign and holds it up so I can read it – again.  “The God who wastes nothing.”  Bell adds, “Now it’s absolutely necessary for us to own and name and claim and make amends for our failures and mistakes and sins and wrongs where others are concerned.  But to stop there is tragic. It isn’t just a failure, a mistake, a sin, a wrong… it’s also an opportunity… to grow, expand, evolve, learn.”[3]  Paul seems to be saying the same thing about death and seeds.  Do you see the seeds in your pocket as simply idle seeds or do you think to yourself, “I’ve got a pocket full of trees.”  If we don’t plant the seeds, we’ll never know.

Paul of course is focused on this resurrection body.  He suggests that in life there is an ongoing progression or development.  In the earthly life, we are one with Adam – which literally translates “human.”  We have the aches and pains and death associated with these flawed and limited shells of ours. But in Christ, we become one with him… a spiritual body that shares in his eternal life… in his very being. Paul says simply of this death and resurrection, “It will be stunning.”  There is a hope in this narrative that our decaying and disjointed and broken-down vessels will be renewed in such a freeing way.  But we’re created to have life and life abundantly now.  And it’s a new year and you’re dreaming big about all 2019 can be.  How can death be a guiding light?  A healthy approach to death always prompts a greater sense of what our lives can be.

Art and Chip Sansom have a comic strip that I’m not really all that familiar with called “The Born Loser.”  I did see this one, however, that shows a mother leaning over the back of her husband’s chair, where he rests with his young son sitting on his lap.  “Have you ever had a near-death experience, Pop?” asks the son.  “Can’t say I have, my boy,” replied the father. Whereupon the mother intrudes: “The question is, has he ever had a near-life experience?”  This is what we’re after, yes?  We want to live now.  We want to be “in Christ” now… alive… active in the kingdom work of God now, not just in heaven.  To do so will take courage and great intention.  It will help us to get a grip on death… not fear it but keep it all in healthy perspective.  Given that research suggests the death rate of humans is still hovering right at 100%, we’re all going to face it.  The Death Café movement is saying, “In the face of that reality, how will you live?”  Sometimes, it helps to notice the people around you who have gone through significant changes in their lives who seem to have an energy and vitality for living.  Call them.  Set up a time to get together.  Ask them to tell you about their losses.  They are generally gracious to speak about them… and often can bring care and healing to them even as they help the rest of us keep loss and change, transition and even death in its most helpful place of perspective.

When musician  Warren Zevon appeared on the Late Show with David Letterman shortly after finding out he had cancer, Letterman asked him, “From your perspective, do you know something about life… that maybe I don’t know?” Zevon answered, “I know how much you’re supposed to enjoy every sandwich.” There is something in your life right now… something you’re struggling with, wrestling with, concerned about, maybe down right fearful of.  How can getting some perspective on that very matter, grant you a new opportunity to see it as a seed… one day producing something bigger and greater than you can possibly see from this vantage point?  How can talking about those matters… even the fear of death itself… bring about a new possibility for life?  Jon Underwood, the British Web Designer and self-named “Death Entrepreneur” who started the Death Café phenomenon along with his mother, a psychotherapist who helped facilitate says, “When people sit down to talk about death, the pretense kind of falls away, and people talk very openly and authentically.  And… they say things in front of strangers which are really profound and beautiful.”

[4]
How will you commit to doing that this year?  It may come with our willingness to talk about our hopes and fears; to get a perspective of death that doesn’t keep us from living our lives in Christ that puts out hope and joy and potential into the world.  Paul closes this Death Café he’s hosting by saying, “It all boils down to this: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.”  Our physical bodies are only intended to carry us so far as they kindly, or not so kindly, remind us of on a regular basis. Our spirits, however, are getting prepared for an other-worldly reality.  Our intentionality around that preparation may make a world of difference in the perspective and joy we can appreciate and experience in the here and now so that even, in a death, we can claim the guiding light of Christ as our next move forward. Sow the seeds. There are beautiful trees just waiting to be planted.

So… if someone asks you later today about what the sermon was about, what will you say? Was it about death or was it about life?  Well… it’s a matter of perspective and, as always, I guess that’s up to you.

[1] The primary source of Death Café information shared throughout this message came from the following work:  Newquist, Gusti Linnea. “The Death Café phenomenon: Millennials are dying to talk about dying.” Presbyterians Today, April/May 2018, 22-23.  A second source can be found here: https://www.npr.org/2013/03/08/173808940/death-cafes-breathe-life-into-conversations-about-dying
[2] https://www.thegriefcenter.org/services/death-cafe/
[3] The story about Bayles and Orland’s experiment with ceramic students and Bell’s follow up come from “Drops Like Stars.”  Rob Bell. Pg. 112-113. HarperOne Publishing. New York. 2009.[4] From Brene Brown’s Daring Greatly.

text :: Matthew 13: 45-46

theme verse :: “On finding a pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.” (Mt 13:46)

As we enter a time when millions of people will make resolutions for the New Year, we are met with a parable that Jesus tells about a merchant who is resolved to acquire a pearl of great value. What sort of pearl could possibly be worthy of such commitment? What will it take to obtain the object of his desire? What will we uncover that may inform our own resolutions in the year ahead?

opening :: 'The First Noel' : The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

reader :: Keenan Barnard
preaching :: Rev Kevin Howe

closing :: 'I Wonder As I Wander' :: Kelly Ford, tenor; Billie Kay Sawyer, piano

Matthew 13: 45 – 46
⁴⁵ “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; ⁴⁶ on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.

The presents have been opened, the wrapping paper is in the garbage bin, and even though we are only halfway through the Christmas season, our eyes are now fixed on the New Year ahead. At the stroke of midnight tomorrow, fireworks and confetti, will give way to the mystery that is the year 2019. Can you believe it!? I will serve as your kind reminder that if you have yet to make a New Year’s resolutions, this would be the time. It’s estimated that some 40% of Americans will make at least one resolution,¹ and many of these goals will likely follow the perennial trends of wanting to eat a little healthier, work out more frequently, save money, or spend more time with friends and family. Personally, I would love to do all those things. And I love the idea that as we approach each New Year, that we would commit to changing an undesired behavior, taking on a personal goal, or otherwise improving our lives. But like so many of our other so-called commitments, New Year’s resolutions are far easier said than done. One study suggests that only 8% of people will achieve their goal.²

There are, of course, many factors that play into our success (or lack thereof)—our planning and preparation, the right level of accountability and encouragement, an acknowledgement about the power of our habits—but all of this has me thinking about another question entirely—one that I think precedes all of these considerations when making our New year’s resolutions. It is a simple question, but quite powerful. And it often gets overlooked because we’re in the thick of our living and speeding so quickly towards January 1 that we forget to slow down and ask it. So, since we’ve committed to being present here this morning, and since you have the expectation I have about 10 more minutes of your focus to wrap this thing up, I’ll ask that question now: What is truly worthy of our resolve? What is truly worthy of our commitment; our investment of time and the life force we have to give in the days and months ahead? What is worthy of our resolution?

When it came to Jesus, he was all-in on the kingdom of God, or the kingdom of heaven as it is referred to in the Gospel of Matthew. For all the other things we uncover in the biblical narrative, the main content of Jesus’ preaching was centered on the kingdom of heaven; what it’s like when God’s in charge. And what I think it truly interesting, is that as sold as Jesus was on this kingdom—God’s reign on earth—he hardly ever spoke about it in direct ways. Instead, he choose to teach in parables, these analogous stories that compare the kingdom to all sorts of other things. Many of the parable are childhood favorites and are recalled with a certain amount of familiarity, like the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal Son. But that familiarity that can sometimes be a barrier to us in understanding the mysteries about kingdom of god that are contained within these stories. For example, we may be able to rattle of some of these parables without considering just how bizarre—even disturbing—they truly are. Jesus seems to find nothing odd about comparing God’s ways to a mixed bag of questionable characters: an unjust judge, a cruel king, a tipsy slave owner, unfair employer—these are just a few of the roles in these scripts.³ For speaking about matters of faith, they certainly don’t appear refined and pious on the surface. These stories are radical and mysterious. But then, again, the Kingdom of God is a radical and mysterious concept in this world. And it’s safe to say that we don’t as well with mystery as we do with facts.

Still Jesus was resolved to usher in this mysterious kingdom, and believed it was worthy of our commitments, and so it is important that we engage these parables with an open-mind and a vulnerable heart, praying that they would reveal to us some wisdom we might come to live by. The scripture we hear read this morning is one such parable and it is unceremoniously dropped into the Gospel of Matthew. With no introduction at all it simply says, “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.” Now what could that mean? ⁴

Perhaps, after all the Christmas shopping, you identify first with the merchant. And if that’s the case, maybe it means that we who claim to love God and God’s reign better be ready to pay full price for this treasure. Bargain shoppers beware, this find will require making a complete sacrifice. No room for half-commitment, here. If you truly desire this kingdom it’s going to cost you. What you ask? Well…everything. But then again, you sense that this treasure is worth the expense. After all, you’ve been on the market for something that would bring you true satisfaction. And despite receiving all the gifts on your Christmas wish list, and your fresh, new winter look, you have yet to find something that brings you sustained joy. You paid for many things, some that you liked, others you bought out of fear of what others might think of you if you didn’t. But this treasured find, this is different. You know it’s the find of a lifetime. And you are resolved to acquire it. So you clear out your savings accounts and you mortgaged everything you’ve got to purchase this pearl. And you’re down to the loose change in your pocket (didn’t we say this was going to require a complete commitment?)…and would you believe it, you have exactly enough! And at long last, you have attained what you sought. And as you hold your prize, marveling at its beauty, you realize that all that time and effort it took was worth it. This treasure would have been cheap at twice the cost and it is yours, and joy is yours! Go in peace.

Is that what it means? Or maybe we hear something else about the kingdom of God in this story. Let’s consider it again. Maybe we are not the merchant in this story. Who is looking for these pearls anyway? What if God was searching? God was looking all over for pearls. Would you believe it? You know, crossing though wooded forests and scaling tall mountains. Swimming through oceans of stars; searching across space and time; inspecting the small, secret places that only God knows. The beauty of the prize was compelling. God is—did you know—a great lover of pearls.

But God now has found something—a pearl, yes, but not just any pearl. One unique in all of space and time. Extraordinary. This one is a treasure, beautifully and wonderfully made. And God should know. After all, God made you, you pearl of surpassing value. You see, God made you, then lost you for a while. But God has sought you out and found you again, and now God must have you regardless of the cost. But God is completely resolved to claim you, God already has—we gathered just this Monday evening to remember again, God’s only begotten son was born into the world that we might know we are claimed beloved by God beyond measure.

Maybe this, too, is what the kingdom of God looks like? I dare to say there are powerful truths in both scenarios. And there is more to this kingdom than we would ever have time to uncover fully, much less in Sunday morning worship services. For the kingdom of God is, after all, a mystery. But it’s a beautiful one—one worthy of our pursuit. It is worthy of our time and energy, our thoughts and actions, our talents and treasures. One worthy of praying for: that God’s kingdom come, God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

I wonder if you would consider making a resolution in this New Year to seek out the kingdom of God in some way. Maybe it’s a commitment to read the parables of Jesus. Maybe it’s to engage in service to your neighbors; to see how that opens you to glimpses of God’s reign. Or maybe it’s the resolution to connect more deeply to Christ’s church as we strive to be a paradigm of what it’s like when God’s in charge.

Today, I have a Christmas gift to you each of you: two precious minutes of quiet. A sacred space in a distracting holiday season to pray about your commitments in the year ahead. And Take these next two minutes, if would, to be with God in prayer.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.” Friends, however the weeks and months ahead unfold, may we strive to seek first the kingdom of God. And when we fall short of our aims and goals, I pray that you come to know deeply that our God has found you to be worthy of whatever cost and God is resolved to claim you. Thanks be to God! Amen.

¹  Dan Diamond, ^“Just 8% of People Achieve Their New Year’s Resolutions. Here’s How They Do It.” Forbes https://www.forbes.com/sites/dandiamond/2013/01/01/just-8-of-people-achieve-their-new-years-resolutions-heres-how-they-did-it/#432232b1596b. January 1, 2013.

² Ibid.

³ Capon, Robert. Kingdom, Grace, Judgement: Paradox, Outrage, and Vindication in the Parables of Jesus. William B Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, MI. 2002. p. 1.

⁴ Matthew 13:45-46

text :: Luke 2: 1 - 20

theme verse :: “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host…” (Luke 2:13)

Sometimes standing isn’t possible. It is often pain or sadness or exhaustion that “takes your legs out from under you.” Sometimes it’s prayer that drives us to our knees – a position of humility and vulnerability. And yet, sometimes, we cannot stand for our sense of awe is too great. O Holy Night invites us all to “fall our knees,” that we might hear the angel voices and, with wide eyes, see the Divine night come to us again. Christ is born! Anything is possible!

preaching :: Rev Mark Briley

* * * * *

'God With Us' (All Sons & Daughters) :: The Rising Band
'Joy to the World (Unspeakable Joy)' :: The Rising Band & Congregation
'Some Children See Him' (Johnson) :: Avenue a capella ensemble
'God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen' (Johnson) :: Avenue
'We Have A Savior' (Hillsong) :: The Rising Band
'O Holy Night (O Night Divine)' (Rend Collective) :: The Rising Band
'Silent Night' (Gruber/Mohr) :: The Rising Band & Congregation

Luke 2:1-20
2 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. ² This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. ³ All went to their own towns to be registered. ⁴ Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. ⁵ He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. ⁶ While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. ⁷ And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

⁸ In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹ Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: ¹¹ to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” ¹³ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” ¹⁶ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. ¹⁷ When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; ¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. ¹⁹ But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. ²⁰ The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
* * * * *
And. Here. We. Are.  Christmas Eve. Can you believe it?  You are literally here… like a dot on the Directory Map at the Mall. I’m so glad you’re here.  I love this night. It really paints a beautiful picture of Christmas.  It’s full of friends and family come home.  There’s a light chill in the air and soon a candlelit room that can’t help but leave you hopeful.  There are many traditions associated with this night.  It’s a bit predictable in that way but there’s always a magical surprise or two as well.  Last year, I was pictured with some of the Phillips clan right after service who decided the baby Jesus needed to be announced with a little flair.
Isn’t that fun?

Something else happened last Christmas Eve that was not necessarily extraordinary to most but created a marvelous happenstance tradition for me and my middle son, Dane. The Brileys always have two vehicles here on Christmas Eve as I come early and stay late and Carrie and the kids come on their own.  The last couple of years, however, Dane has stayed late with me so we can ride home together. We park down the road a bit so that we don’t take up a parking spot in our lot for all of you who will be joining us. This makes for a nice, still-humming-silent-night stroll from the building to find our car was everyone has departed.  This has meant we walked past the pedestrian bridge that spanned over Harvard Avenue.  And with that wrap around ramp to get to the top, what kid wouldn’t want to run up there at night on Christmas Eve.  So… Dane and I have run up the ramp, stood in the middle of the bridge looking back at the church – now dark and silent with few, if any cars, driving underneath us.  We just stand there for a while, marveling at the events we just celebrated at the church, giving thanks for the gift of Christ, the mystery and miracle of it all. After the frenzied activity of the weeks leading to that celebrated moment, a silent moment with my son on that bridge was as sweet a moment of worship as I had come to know.  But… as you know if you’ve been around here a while at all, that pedestrian bridge was torn down just a couple of weeks ago after standing for nearly five decades. I’ll admit that my first thought when I learned the news was that I’d miss standing on that bridge with my son on Christmas Eve. Which prompted my second thought: “Where are we going to stand this year, to look back at the church, to marvel again at a holy and sacred night? How am I supposed to see Christmas now? As I was pondering that very thing, it led me to the question of Christmas Eve I’d like you to consider tonight. Where do you stand when you can no longer stand where you used to stand?  

This was now a bigger question than physically standing on a pedestrian bridge on Christmas Eve.  For you, this may be a disorienting Christmas.  Things are different this year. You are different this year.  The story of Christ never changes but we do so it hits us differently every year. The events and shifts and relationships and experiences and questions and mysteries and all that you’ve encountered since last Christmas shapes the way you approach this Christmas.  It changes your perspective.  You can no longer stand where you used to stand when it comes to looking at Christmas. You may be here… in this space on Christmas Eve but you may feel like you’re a million miles from Christmas.  I saw this picture recently taken by the Mars Exploration Rover Spirit.  It’s the first ever picture of Earth from Mars and included the helpful Mall Directory note: “You are here.”  It is an image capturing a remarkable reality.  “You are here.”  A dot. 34 million miles away from a camera that fellow humans landed on another planet.  As marvelous as that is, it may represent in another way how you’re feeling about Christmas this year – distanced, small, unable to make out many of the details.

I wonder if Mary and Joseph felt a bit like that too.  They were on board with the game plan but who’s kidding who, there had to be some sense of pain and smallness to the whole thing too. They had no perspective other than the immediate. Christmas didn’t hold any of the tradition for them that it holds for us.  It was just the culmination of an unexpected promise with threats of exile from their family and community and death from the empire who was threatened by the word that a new King was coming.  Mary and Joe were surely both asking themselves the question, “Where do you stand when you can no longer stand where you used to stand?”  Everything was upended.  This was new territory. Joe wasn’t having a cigar out behind the stable.  They weren’t taking holy family selfies and snapchatting them out to their friends. They were probably just trying to survive that first Christmas.  Can you relate?  You’re sorting through the loss… the absence… the heartache.  It’s impossible to stand where you once stood in relation to Christmas.  Too much has changed and you’re just trying to get through it. Where do you stand when you can no longer stand where you used to stand?

The Shepherds had an entirely different set of concerns when it comes to where they stood with Christmas.  They’re on the hillside watching the flock as best they can.  As they’re downing a 5-hour Energy Drink to stay on their game, they’re blindsided by an angel choir which was not a typical occurrence on the night shift. The Shepherds were afraid.  The angel laid out for them what had occurred in Bethlehem and as much as they wanted to deny what they had experienced, they couldn’t shake the fact that it did.  They could no longer see the world the same way they did the day before. This news of a Messiah born in their neck of the woods – whether they wanted to believe it or not – was now on their radar and they would have to wrestle with such a reality.  Maybe you’re like the Shepherds.  You’re minding your own business in the world, getting’ yours, focused on the drive of the culture, the need to succeed, or just working the daily grind from 9-5 or even the night shift.  From where you stand, Christmas is of no significance. Who needs it? In fact, the only religion that interests you is religious satire that is good for a laugh.  One of my favorites of late was this artwork that says,  “As for me and my house, we will serve tacos.”  Book, chapter and verse?  Salsa 24:7. It’s easier to keep our spirit’s thirst at bay by laughing off faith as nothing more than a crutch for the weak. But then… the grind grows weary.  And money isn’t satisfying you the way you thought it would… and you’re maturing and something has shifted, maybe even a little bit, where the things you thought would fill you just don’t fill the void. There’s an emptiness… and for every hypocritical Christian you know that you can point to as reason you don’t do religion, there’s a spiritual desire in you to get closer to this Jesus – who without all the fanfare we put around religion – is really intriguing to you.  As much as you’d like to just bah humbug the whole thing, you’ve got this nudge in you that longs to confess (if even internally) … “I need something more.  I need God.”  You decide your cultural stance in life can’t be the end game to it all.  Where do you stand when you can no longer stand where you used to stand?

Whether we are forced by circumstances out of our control to get a different view of Christmas this year or we’re spiritually churning in a way that won’t allow us to move through another Christmas with a business as usual mentality… here. we. are. … seeking, wondering.  How will we stand with Christmas now?  Sometimes, when it comes to such a holy moment, we shouldn’t stand at all. That beautiful Christmas song that has been our focus this Advent season offers that very advice.  “Fall on your knees.  Hear the angel voices.  For on this night divine, Christ is born.”  Have you slowed your roll at all this season… to simply get on your knees and worship the Lord?  Have you celebrated the fact that you are not God and you don’t have to be?  Have you marveled at the wonders of what it means to be here, alive, seeking meaning and wholeness and purpose?  Sometimes, you have to position your life, even your very body, differently so that you can see that God is here and you are not alone. Sometimes you can’t understand where you stand until you’re not standing at all.

As I was starting college, I moved an hour from home and was looking to room with my older brother, Matt, at the Gatehouse Apartments in Columbia, Missouri.  It was not the nicest accommodations by any means and we didn’t have much stuff to make the place all that homey.  But… I was going to be out on my own for the first time, sorting out this new phase of my life.  No way things could look the same as they did before.  Life was moving on and I was going to have to decide how I would move along with it. The very first night I stayed in the apartment was before I had moved in.  It was just a scouting trip. I had come down to stay the night and look for a job that would support me while I was a student. Somebody had to pay the rent and buy the cans of tuna and generic cereal that fed us most meals. My brother was actually not going to be home that first night so I was going to be there alone.  That was okay but also left me with some of those uncertain feelings about being by myself in a strange place.  Not having my stuff there and Matt being gone, I went to lay down in his bed for the night.  When my head hit the pillow, I opened my eyes and behold, just a few inches from my face, was the windowsill that projected several inches out from the wall.  I was glad I hadn’t hit my head. It was a little tight. The bug light outside of the window brought enough light into the room through the broken blinds that I could tell there was something written on the underside of the windowsill.  In big letters, it simply read, “Matt was here.”  I shook my head a bit, and maybe even chuckled out loud.  You’ve seen that sort of thing on trees or picnic tables in the park or at a rustic camp cabin where kids stay for a week in the summer and leave their mark on the walls as proof of their experience.  But I laughed at the thought of my twenty-year old brother laying there in bed one night, grabbing a pen and scribbling the words, “Matt was here.”  As strange as it may seem… as simple as those three words were… it was the most beautiful gift to my soul in that moment.  My brother, whom I loved and admired and fought with and who had fought for me through all those years was strangely there with me.  I never would have seen that standing up.  Until I laid down, I could not sense his presence.

Sometimes, we have to put ourselves in position to receive the gift and reminder that we are not alone. Maybe falling on our knees this night is the humbling experience we need to receive Christmas as the gift it is intended to be.  When you approach the manger, you can’t really stand tall, towering over the innocence of the baby. There’s not much connection in that posture.  It’s mostly an obligatory viewing from a distance.  But when you fall on your knees next to that manger and you come close to Jesus, you can see things much clearer.  In fact, if you look close enough in that manger, you can surely read carved into the side of that wooden animal trough the words, “God is here.”

Where do you stand when you can no longer stand where you used to stand?  When it comes to Christmas, maybe you don’t stand at all.  You fall on your knees.

CHRISTMAS IN TUNE V
A Rising Worship Concert

‘What A Savior’ (Shelly E. Johnson)

‘Angels We Have Heard On High’ (Chris Tomlin)
‘Go Tell It On The Mountain’ (needtobreathe)

Pastoral Prayer

‘Just Another Christmas’ (Laura Story)
‘Hope is Alive’ (Ellie Holcomb)
‘Why Does God Have To Look So Human’ (Waterdeep)
‘Mvmt II, Begin and Never Cease’ (The Oh Hellos)

‘I Wonder As I Wander’

‘Join the Angels’ (Matthew West)
Sending Forth

THE RISING BAND

Mark Bleikamp
Tim Conner
Andrea Gross
D’Ann Hargrove
Katie Herbert
Sarah Herbert
Phil King
Nathan Wilson

Isaac Herbert – The Rising Band Leader

Tom Jurena – audio engineer

text : Luke 1:68-79

theme verse : “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us…” (Luke 1:78)

PEACE SUNDAY. The Christian liturgical year has long pointed us toward peace on the second Sunday of Advent. Peace really deserves more than one focal Sunday but we’ll light that Peace Candle and find as much warmth and challenge in its flame as we can get. There is, after all, always great need for oppressions to cease and chains to be broken. Those lines may hold familiarity. After a decade of banishment by the French Catholic Church for its connection to controversy, 'O Holy Night' was discovered by an American writer and Abolitionist advocate, John Sullivan Dwight. He was drawn to the songs call for justice and peace. Does that line beckon us forward still? Are there chains yet to be broken?

special music : 'Glory (Let There Be Peace)' (M.Maher) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

reading : Todd Maxwell
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

anthem : 'No Eye Had Seen' (M.W.Smith) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director; Greta Metzer, soprano sax

duet : 'Alone With You' / 'Man After Your Own Heart' (arr.Rhodes) :: Ashley Pease, Kelly Ford; Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano; Greta Metzer, soprano sax

Luke 1:68-79
“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.
Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham, to grant us
that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear, 
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins.
By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Chains shall he break. It’s quite an image all by itself don’t you think? Chains are so restrictive. Tight. Life-draining. Oppressive. You can go this far but not a bit further.  It’s like a dog that wears a circular dirt path in the grass around the tree at the outer limits of the chains reach. It’s sad. It’s certainly not freeing.  Hayes, our youngest son, took our dog, Taylor, for a little walk recently.  He unknowingly clipped her leash onto her dog tag instead of her collar loop which is designed to withstand her mighty tug.  The dog tag was not nearly as strong and it wasn’t far into the walk that she busted free. In dramatic fashion, the leash snapped, the dog tag flew into the air and she took off as Zac Brown Band’s song, “Free” played from the heavens.  “Just as free… free as we’ll ever be!”  The hunt was on and we did wind up together again.  Part of me was concerned for her and for Hayes but a deep-down part of me felt joy in the freedom Taylor claimed for even a short time.  Don’t you long for that feeling sometimes?  Total freedom.  It’s the sentiment of a friend who says to Carrie and me the other night as we were driving home following a great dinner, “The only thing better would be if we just kept driving…”  It was the gleam of freedom in his eye – the joy of the adventure, unencumbered by the responsibilities of every waking, adulting moment. Chains shall he break.  Take a deep breath, would you?  And now exhale…. that’s what it feels like when the chains of our lives are broken.  That’s a moment of peace.  That’s what we seek from a Savior, whose Advent – whose very arrival — is what we hold before us in this season.

Peace doesn’t come easy.  It’s long been the global wish shared at pageants and the like for years.  “If I had one wish it would be for world peace.” It’s a grand and noble wish. Bono, front man for U2, named one of their albums,  “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb.” What a title – and what a challenge to imagine how you would go about such a thing.  But Bono admitted concerning the grandness of the title, “Actually I was talking about my father Bob. He was the atomic bomb in question.”[1]  Dismantling bombs in search of world peace is an overwhelming premise when such diffusing of said bombs often refer to the Bobs in our lives or even to the inward struggles we hold in our own spirits.  How can I imagine a peaceful world when there is such turmoil in my own very being?  Oh we’ve got some inner chains that need breaking, don’t we.

Jeremiah brought the prophecy of hope last week as we launched this Advent sermon series.  Today, Zechariah brings the prophecy of peace.  Do you know his story?  Zechariah was a priest – married to Elizabeth.  Sweet and steady couple up in years by now.  Served faithfully in the church.  On his selected day to enter the sanctuary to offer incense – which was a deep privilege that you didn’t get to do all that often as many a priest wanted a turn – Zechariah had an encounter with an angel.  Because this act was one each priest handled alone while the people waited outside praying, it was a one-on-one situation which, as you could guess, brought a little anxiety to Zechariah.  The angel, Gabriel, says to Zechariah, “Pssst… yeah, you, I’ve got some news for you.  You’re gonna be a daddy!”  “Uhhh, come again there Gabe?”  “Yes,” he says, “You and Elizabeth will be parents just like you’ve longed to be.  And the kid is going to be something.  Here, Zechariah, cut into this cake.”  “Why?” “Just do it – everybody’s doing it – it’s called a gender reveal party.”  Zechariah cuts into the cake and looks at the angel befuddled.  “It’s blue.”  “That’s right,” says the angel.  “Name him John – American parents will name their kids after him centuries from now – he’s got a big life ahead of him.”  “Hold the phone here, angel.  Me and Beth. Pregnant.  Have you seen me?  Have you seen her?”  (He quickly followed with “Don’t tell her I said that.”)  Gabriel knew this had blown Zechariah’s mind and that he probably needed some quiet time to process it all so he Harry Potter’s the priest: “Mute.”  And Zechariah doesn’t utter another word until it’s time to sign John’s birth certificate at the hospital. The first words he speaks are the ones you’ve heard read this morning.  It is the prophecy of his son’s life whose wrestling name will later be, “the Baptist” for his role in baptizing so many in preparation of receiving the Messiah who was to come – who turned out to be Jesus, John’s cousin – convenient!

Zechariah had a great vision for his son. As devout Jews hoped and longed for the day when the Messiah, God’s anointed king, would come, most of them also believed a forerunner would precede him to prepare the way.  It was a commonly held thought that Elijah would return to play such a role but Zechariah says, “John’s the one.”  I wonder sometimes what kind of role our own belief in our children plays in them rising to the occasion of their lives – surpassing what is seemingly their greatest potential.  I can picture Zechariah and Elizabeth chatting after putting John to bed after a particularly challenging night where their son was in rare and difficult form – “Well… still think he’s the one?”  Somehow, an unwavering humble confidence encourages John forward into his life’s vocation.  In life, God is always working in all things to bring Christ to light.  Don’t downplay the moments you spend today, or tomorrow or on a Thursday afternoon as inconsequential to bringing about the kingdom of God.  In all things, God is preparing a way.  You may not feel like such is the case when you’re running about your day.  Between appointments and responsibilities and the things we give our lives to managing on a daily basis, I often feel like I’ve allotted only a very small segment of each day to improving my spirit. And when I step back and try to imagine how such little time can add up to get me to some space of enlightenment, I can get discouraged.  Sitting at a stoplight I’ll ask myself, “Am I forever living an unfinished life?”

You may be familiar with the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City.  Some people refer to it as the “Cathedral of Saint John the Unfinished.”  It’s an impressive landmark in New York – 601 feet long and 124 feet high.  It features the longest Gothic nave in the United States and the largest rose window in the country as well.  10,000 pieces of glass.  Besides the sanctuary, there are seven chapels.  It’s an architectural beauty.  Construction began in 1892.  Worship and other ministries started taking place there in 1899.  The building wasn’t opened end-to-end until 1941 but even then, there was much work waiting to be completed. Over the years, the structure was plagued by financial woes, changes in building plans, wartime delays, engineering problems and in 2001, a destructive fire.  And so, today, 126 years to the month after the cornerstone was laid, this massive church is still sometimes dubbed, “Saint John the Unfinished.”  ‘Unfinished’ seems like such a downer of a word.  You never like when the idea is attached to your personal projects.  She didn’t finish the race.  His dissertation was never completed. The remodeling of your bathroom may not have begun as far back as 1892 but still, as you step around the unfinished tile every day and the counter-top-less sink area, it could be called “the john unfinished.”[2]

Maybe we’d prefer to refer to these projects, and ourselves, as works in progress. Zechariah’s prophecy is surely saying, “the faith is strong… the progress is coming… this is the time… this child is the one.” Stay the course. John would be one to help usher in the Prince of Peace. “John, my boy,” Zechariah says, “You will be a forerunner, preparing the ways of the Lord, giving knowledge of salvation to the people.”  It is like what Paul would say in Romans 10, “How can people call on the Lord if nobody tells them, shows them, or preaches Christ?”  At such a time, when Zechariah is dreaming over the crib of his son, people didn’t have a sense of what God was personally like.  The Greeks thought of a passionless God – one who looked on humanity with an unmoved detachment.  Not much help there.  The Jewish faith of that time had imagined a demanding God whose name was law had whose function was mostly judge.  But God in the flesh, in Jesus, came to tell that God was love and in staggered amazement people could only say, “We never knew that God was like that.”[3] The reality remains that many people today see God as detached or God as rule-enforcer or have been burned enough by religious hypocrisy that they also don’t know of a God of love and have given up on faith.  Maybe you know such a person.  Maybe you are such a person.  Jesus shows us a different way… and it’s on us to make that love known to those who can quickly and easily say, “I never knew God was like that.”  Chains he shall, he can, he will break, one oppressive link at a time.

This is, in part, the work-in-progress we experience in the quest for peace that we shouldn’t give up on when attempts at peace often feel like an unfinished project. I mentioned last week, a bit of the history of the song we love to break out this time of year, “O Holy Night.”[4]  The song is the inspiration behind this thrill of hope series.  The lyrics were written by an unchurched (and uninterested) French poet and musical score composed by a man of Jewish faith who never celebrated Christmas or the Messiah the words proclaimed.  Once these facts became public, it became a problem for church leaders who declared the song unfit for church services. Church leaders can be stubborn sometimes … like any leaders I suppose… and can turn on something incredibly beautiful when it doesn’t come from one of their own.  But only three weeks after it was penned, it was offered as the heart of The Christmas Mass in 1847.  Though the French church banned the song for a couple of decades, it’s beauty had already captured the hearts of too many.  And the leak was on. A reclusive American writer, John Sullivan Dwight, somehow came across the song and immediately was moved to introduce it to America.  Dwight was an ardent abolitionist and strongly identified with the lines of the third verse: “Truly he taught us to love one another; his law is love and his gospel is peace.  Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother; and in his name all oppression shall cease.”  We sort of accept these words as norm… we don’t feel the sting (even though perhaps we should) … but remember the time.  1860’s in America – the Civil War.  Imagine being in a southern church on Christmas Eve and hearing “Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother… and in HIS name all oppression shall cease.”  Gulp.

Breaking chains to bring about peace doesn’t come without some conflict. And Zechariah says, “Forgiveness of sins” will be necessary in order to “guide our feet into the way of peace.”  Talk about unfinished work.  Forgiveness is a constant need. Forgiveness is not so much the remission of penalty as it is a restoration of relationship.  It doesn’t erase what has been but it forges forward with new respect. It is estrangement turned friendship.  Breaking chains means meeting each other with dignity even in our differences.  I’m sure, by now, you’ve seen this image  of 95-year-old war veteran and senator Bob Dole, with all his strength rise from his wheelchair to salute 94-year-old war veteran and past president George H.W. Bush.  Man, that was a moment.  And across the land, if but for a little while, there was a peace that focused on dignity and respect over poorly constructed spewed words of hate and division.  It shouldn’t take death for us to treat each other with dignity. To whom can you offer some dignity that you’ve been withholding of late?  What relationship can you restore?  Not easy, I know, but you can take a humble step if even the other person will not.  The staff team named Romans 12 in our Bible study last Monday. In it, Paul writes: “As far as it is up to you, be at peace with everyone.”  You’ve got some agency in this peace-work. Theologian Paul Tillich said, “Faith is the courage to accept acceptance.” Not a bad word for us on either side of the forgiveness equation.  In Christ, we are loved beyond measure and we are in turn called to love in that same way.  That’s a kind of love that breaks chains.

And it’s a commitment.  If you give yourself to Christ… to truly study his way of love and attempt its counter-cultural practices, it will frustrate you even as it transforms you.  Clive Staples Lewis used to say, “If you give Christ an inch, he’ll take it all.”  What do you have to give Christ of yourself today?  If you’re willing to give even a piece of yourself, he’ll start to break those chains and it will change the way you engage others too… which only brings about a greater peace in the world.  It will be hard work. You may feel like you’re trying to dismantle an atomic bomb.  But isn’t your spirit worth it?  Isn’t the relationship with your child or your friend or your colleague or even that person who is a total stranger to you but so loved by God worth the effort?  I heard a guy say this week that we so often see each other the way cows gaze at cars.[5]  A car drives by the pasture. The cow looks at it as it passes by.  But there’s nothing going on inside that cow.  Just chewing the cud and once passed, returns to feeding one of its four stomachs.  That’s not peace.  It may be easier but it’s not chain breaking.  The inch you give Christ today may be relinquishing your weapon of choice that is in direct objection to peace.  A friend said it to me this way, “If you’ve got your gun on you, you’re saying that option is not off the table.”  The thought was, “If you’re carrying hate in your heart, in your speech, in your actions … then hate is always a ready option for you.” Whatever your weapon is:  sarcasm, a grudge, a cutting word, dishonesty, whatever – could you take that option off the table… give it to Christ and see what he can do with that inch you’ve relinquished.  Maybe when it’s time for this morning’s offering, you think about that which you might offer to God today in that regard. What weapon will you relinquish?  Whatever that may be is certainly holding you back from living your best life, living into the vision that someone dreamed over your crib like Zechariah did John’s.

There are plenty of chains to be broken in our society… all the “isms” and “phobias” that keep us looking at each other like cow’s gaze at cars.  Societal, systemic sin remains rampant and an effort we as the collective of Christ need to be concerned with for if all oppression shall ever cease, we need to proclaim his name and break some chains. And we live in a time and culture that’s pretty worked up right now.  I’d like to ask us all to calm down, but my beloved colleague reminded me this week with this picture that So I won’t ask you to calm down. What I’ll ask you instead is to keep at your work in progress.   Do you know what that is?  Colleague and friend, Julian DeShazier,[6] posted these words that I share as a reminder: “There is a project you are working on, beyond your work.  It’s a YOU project, and I want to encourage you to stay on it.  As life happens, you’ll fall off the You Project.  Keep going. THAT is the project we need you to finish. We have plenty of content; we need excellent humans, and you are one of them.  Keep going.”

Can I invite you again to do something?  Take a deep breath. Now… release it. Lay down your hostility.  Lay down your pride.  Lay down any consuming greed.  Someone has a vision for your life… and it doesn’t include those things. You put those things down and you’ll find your hands, and your soul, are now open for something better. Pick up knowledge. Pick up salvation. Pick up freedom. Pick up forgiveness and mercy and let’s break some chains in Christ’s name.  And we’ll be “free… free as we’ll ever be.”

[1] https://www.u2.com/music/Albums/4068/How+To+Dismantle+An+Atomic+Bomb
[2] “Cathedral of Saint John the Divine.” Wikipedia. “History.” The Cathedral Church of Saint John the Divine. www.stjohndivine.org. Bob Kaylor, Senior Writer for Homiletics and Senior Minister of the Park City United Methodist Church in Park City, Utah utilized this piece about the Cathedral in a message entitled, “The God Who Completes.”
[3] Exegetical background as found in William Barclay’s Commentary on the Gospel of Luke.  Westminster Press. 1975.
[4] https://www.beliefnet.com/entertainment/movies/the-nativity-story/the-amazing-story-of-o-holy-night.aspx
[5] As shared by Pete Rollins in an interview with Rob Bell:  https://robbell.com/portfolio/robcast/.  Episode 159.
[6] Rev. Julian DeShazier is Senior Pastor at University Church in Chicago.  http://universitychurchchicago.org/team/rev-julian-deshazier-senior-pastor/

text : Psalm 63: 1 - 8

theme verse : "Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you." (Psalm 63:3)

You spend three months without your usual responsibilities, you learn a few things. You see different things, and you see things differently. Sabbath, sabbatical, rest, renewal. What it means, what it does, what it teaches - what you learn. After all that time and space, it's good to regather the sabbatical wanderings, wonderings, and lessons along the way.

anthem : 'Give Me Jesus' (arr. Ijames) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director; Marla Patterson, soloist

reader : Roy Peters
preaching : Rev Courtney Richards

special music : 'So Will I' (HillsongUnited) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader; Andrea Gross, lead vocal

text : Proverbs 11:24-25

theme verse : “Some give freely, yet grow all the richer; others withhold what is due and only suffer want.” (Proverbs 11:24)

An old rap song from my youth included the line, 'You better check yourself before your wreck yourself.' While none of the other lines were memorable, that one has staying power. Against what do we measure the effectiveness of our lives? Some level of success? Some measure of kindness? A lifestyle of generosity? A man gave millions to establish a university in Texas. Several years later, he lost everything. Someone asked if he had regretted all he had given to the university. 'Regret it?' he said, 'That school is the only lasting thing I’ve done with my money. Had I not given that money, I would have lost it too.' So much of living a generous life involves loosening our grip on fear, security, and the sense of scarcity. Only then, might we experience the freedom of a life that is ‘growing all the richer.’

*Gratitude Statement: “I will relinquish control.”

Open Mic testimony : Andy McMillan

communion music : Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano

offertory : Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano

reader : David Brock
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

special music : 'Gracefully Broken' (M.Redman) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands. If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.  If you’re happy and you know it then your face will surely show it. If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.   

Well… okay then. Wasn’t sure how that would go.  We have some happy people in the house today.  We have some who maybe just humored the pastor and went along with the child-like experiment.  There may be a few of us who had no familiarity with the song and by the time we caught on it was over.  We have some who likely flat out refused – “I don’t participate in ridiculous clapping rituals.”  And honestly, it’s all okay.  In fact, I learned this week that whether we’re happy and we know it or not may be something we can’t fully control.  I’ve been reading some of Dr. Robert Emmons work in preparation for this series on gratitude.  Dr. Emmons is considered one of the top scientific experts on gratitude which is fascinating – the science of gratitude – have you ever thought about gratitude as a science?  Emmons notes that each person has a chronic or characteristic level of happiness. The research suggests that “people have happiness set-points to which they inevitably return following disruptive life events.  Getting that book published, moving to California, having the person of your dreams answer your personal ad, each of these may send the happiness meter right off the scale for a while but, in a few months, it will drift back to the set-point that is typical for that individual. What goes up must come down.”  Interesting.

It makes sense when you think about people in your life.  Some have a naturally happy disposition and others have been waking up on the grumpy side of the bed for a while it seems.  It’s a process of adaptation.  Humans are adaptation machines.  We take good things for granted and overcome obstacles that life throws our way only to return to the state of happiness that is natural for us.  You win the lottery?   A couple months later, you come down from the high to your happiness set-point.  You lose a job?  A few months later, you re-settle into that natural set point.  I was honestly a little discouraged by this; as if there is nothing we can do about it.  To strengthen this idea, Emmons says that 50% of our happiness is determined by our genetics.

But… that means we’ve got another 50% to consider, right?  (So, you’re saying there’s a chance.)  Turns out 10% of our happiness is determined by our circumstance. These are the things you can’t necessarily control.  Life that happens to you.  Emmons says humans mess up the happiness quotient by focusing on this 10%.  He says, “Most people are trying to improve their outside circumstances.  They want more money, a better car, a hotter body, a more beautiful spouse, a better job, and more.”  Research says we are seeking happiness in all the wrong places.  Why?  Because the remaining 40% of our happiness is determined by our behaviors… our intentional activities.  And as your pastor, I’m going to call these behaviors and intentional activities – spiritual disciplines or spiritual practices. The key to happiness lies not in changing our circumstances or changing our genetic makeup (which is frankly impossible) but in changing our behavior.  Focusing on our behavior is four times more powerful than considering our circumstances when it comes to increasing levels of happiness.  And do you know the number one behavior Dr. Emmons suggests improves happiness?  He’s not the Gratitude Guru for nothing, my friends. You guessed it.  Gratitude.  To take it one step further, improving behavior also tends to create better outside circumstances as well. Not always, as some things are clearly beyond our control, but there is some correlation. [1]

Why does this matter?  Because I want you to be happy?  Of course, I do.  But I also want us all to be growing in our spiritual health.  It is why we are focused on gratitude this month.  Practicing gratitude seems to be more than a good idea – but a reality of spiritual health. So, we’re tackling this honestly in this series called Open Mic.  Andy McMillan stepped to the Open Mic today to share his thoughts on gratitude and stewardship… it is always inspiring to hear our community speak up about these matters.  And we’re asking all of us to consider our own lives as an Open Mic.  You have a voice.  You practice a set of behaviors.  You have influence in your home or your place of work or in the circles of friends and people you move among every day.  What kind of impact are you making in those places?  What is your life saying to them?  And why does it matter as a person of faith?  We’re asking these important questions in this stewardship series even as we’re asking us to consider the nature of gratitude and how, in turn, we give of our time, talents, and resources to God.  Today’s title:  Open Mic:  Check one, two, three.

As a kid, there was nothing more fun than finding an open mic… you could make weird noises or yell loudly or beat box… it was just fascinating to hear your voice amplified.  Being a pastor’s kid, I often was around the church early (and late), before and after events would happen in the life of the church.  The sound guy would often send me up on the chancel before events and check the mics.  Loved it. “Mic check, one, two, three,” was the standard and I usually started with that before broadly expanding what I would test out on the microphones.  There was an old rap song from those days that included the line, “You better check yourself before you wreck yourself.”  It was actually more like, “Chick-chiggidy- check yo’self before you wreck yo’self.”  It was always worth a go when checking the mics. And while I can’t remember even a little bit of the rest of the song, that line has staying power.  It would heed a good warning to my spirit in times of need.  It was like the parental advice before going out, “Remember who you are.”  Same thing.  Check yourself before you wreck yourself.  You can get yourself in a bind pretty quickly if you’re not intentional about what you expect your life to be about.  There is plenty of scripture that can be of help in times of need but there’s nothing quite like the Proverbs to put you in check when you need it the most.

Some have described the Proverbs as the voice of that wise elderly person in your life who has been through it all and doesn’t have time to sugarcoat advice any more. The Proverbs cut to the chase.  Get right after what’s real and necessary and what can alter your behavior in a positive way.  The two short verses from Proverbs 11:24-25 get right to the point.  “Some give freely yet grow all the richer; others withhold what is due and only suffer want… a generous person will be enriched, those who help others will be helped.”  Boom.  Short and sweet. To the point.  Would you say that is true of your life?  In giving freely, do you grow more fulfilled?  In withholding, do you end up only wanting more? The writer says bluntly, you want to measure an effective life?  What do you give away?  How do you help others?  Are you more concerned with getting yours, being selfish, or living in gratitude and doing good for the world?  Seems pretty straightforward and I think most of us would say, at least in church, that we agree with the notion, “It is better to give than receive.”  But is that truly how we see success?  Or do we live as if control and power and money and more of it is what determines success?

There was a man who gave millions to establish a university in Texas.  Several years later, he lost everything.  Someone asked if he had regretted all he had given to the university.  “Regret it?” he said, “That school is the only lasting thing I’ve done with my money.  Had I not given that money, I would have lost it too.”  What have you given of yourself to… what place, what cause, what hope… that is about a lasting impact?  Gratitude is about living with open hands to the world.  When we clench our fists or hold tight to our possessions or our time or our gifts of ability to some cause to improve the world, we close the door on gratitude. We are, in turn, not changed for the better.  We’re not happier.  And we just get lost in the fear of scarcity. As if there’s not enough stuff to go around.  Not enough money.  Not enough, not enough, not enough.  How often is that our driving concern?

A friend shared with me this week his experience of the past weekend.  He wandered into an Estate Sale and was a bit taken aback by the whole experience.  People were rushing in to claim the material goods of another now deceased… a houseful of things that stood as a reminder of one’s property, possessions, personality and likes.  My friend stood back as others were aggressive in the hunt for steals and deals and a couple of those working the sale said in observance of the look on his face. “Look at him, he’s soaking it all in, creating a plan for what he wants to get.”  My friend, still a bit stunned by the whole thing, asks the two working the sale, “Did you know the person who lived here?”  “Uh, no,” they said.  “Do you know their name?”  “Um. No, guess I don’t… but they sure had some great stuff.”  We work hard to accumulate a life without taking much time to truly live a life.  Writer of proverbs is saying, “You want your world to expand?  Not with riches but with what truly is a rich life?  Then live generously.  Lead and make room for others to lead. Give and model for others what generosity looks like.  Loosen the grip on your possessions and see what that affords your spirit to possess anew.”  Sometimes, it is our comfort that makes us lose sight of the generous life.  We become consumed by mundane things that are not kingdom game changers.

In the movie Old School (not a pulpit-endorsement mind you) Will Ferrell plays a married, thirty-something-year-old suburban man who finds himself at a college party. When he’s offered a drink, he declines, saying, “I have a big day tomorrow.”  When he’s asked, “Doing what?” he responds, “Well, um… actually a pretty nice little Saturday.  We’re gonna go to Home Depot, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath & Beyond… I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll have enough time…”.  As you can imagine, not overly relatable to a college aged crowd but why do people who have seen this movie remember this line?  Will knows how to deliver a line, yes, but more than that, there’s something more going on than his trip to Home Depot on a Saturday.  The man in this movie is bored.

He has the life that is often portrayed as the ideal – a spouse, a house, a job, security, comfort, privilege, freedom – and yet it’s left him bored, numb, and in a low-grade state of despair.  His ‘success’ has actually served to distract him from just how deeply unsatisfied he is with his life.  Have you ever experienced this sort of life… or maybe know someone who has?  It can create a paralyzing indifference that comes from being too comfortable. What Rob Bell calls, “Death by wallpaper and flooring.”[2]  Happiness does not exist solely in wallpaper and flooring… even if you’re an interior designer.  Our behaviors have to move us beyond that comfort… over the edge of easy, comfortable, existence to a life that places gratitude, generosity, and difference-making as our top behaviors.

2018 has been a year of this sort of behavior at Harvard Avenue Christian Church. We’re growing as a church by most every measure.  At a gathering of those newer to the congregation last Sunday, there was an eagerness for Bible Study and understanding of our movement of faith known as the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). A Bible 101 course and a series about who we are collectively as Disciples and who we are as disciples at Harvard Avenue will be new opportunities in 2019.  We had 448 people join us to worship God last Sunday morning.  I remember a decade ago being here on a Sunday morning with as few as 140 faithful.  Those are just numbers but they represent a hunger and passion for faith… to do something counter-cultural… to invest in the spirit.

During the state-wide teacher walk out this Spring, you rallied to be a host site for school children during those important two weeks. You made meals for teachers marching from Tulsa to the capitol and delivered them wherever the walk ended that particular night. You treated and cared for the educators of our own congregation that season… it was an inspiring time. In more recent weeks, 100 volunteers stepped forward to host homeless neighbors at the church for a week and we’ll do so again just before Christmas.  Ashley Pease created and hosted a Spotlight Theater Camp for kids this past summer that will surely grow in its second attempt next summer.  We experienced the gifts of that camp on Sunday Funday – one of the most joyous worship experiences I’ve ever been a part of – where 22 people stepped forward at the end of worship to profess faith in Jesus and join our congregation in the mission and vision we share. There were mission trips and fellowship gatherings and the world’s leading pickleball player present to lead a clinic at our church. As a church, we gave almost $30,000 in special offerings to Week of Compassion alone – a denominational ministry that is the first to respond to natural disaster needs in the world.  This week, leaders of Week of Compassion are coming to our church from around the country for their bi-annual meeting… to be on the turf of a congregation who has given more in special offerings to serve this ministry than any congregation in the United States and Canada for several years running. You have given freely, and we are growing in faith, in number, and in spirit because of it.

Kevin, Courtney and I were on a prayer and planning retreat a week ago with pages of prayer requests from you that we took humbly and intentionally before God in prayer. As you poured out your hearts, we poured out those requests before God and continued to find the word “wholeness” surface as a quest of our congregation. How can we be a movement for wholeness in our very fragmented world?  That seems to be the hunger of our community so we’re working to shape 2019 around that need and desire and I believe it will be a deeply meaningful journey… if you’re up for it.  If you’ll invest time and energy, spirit and resources to help us find God’s loving challenge and encouragement in faith.  If we all do our part… give our best… invest intentionally in the communal effort, I believe the transformation will not only be visible to us all, but it will be an inspiration to our city.

Carrie and I will be prayerfully completed our pledge card this week and bringing it to worship next week on Thanksgiving Sunday.  Will you join us in that?  Your pledge to the church helps determine our reach in 2019 – what programs we can offer, what new needs we can meet, what worship experiences, studies, retreats we can create, who we can serve more fully, what witness we can make in Tulsa and beyond.  You may think that your contribution of time, talent and resources isn’t as valuable as another’s, but I’ll politely disagree.  You give. You trust. You grow.

Chris Martin, lead singer of the band Coldplay once said: “I can’t dance like Usher. I can’t sing like Beyoncé. I can’t write songs like Elton John.  But we can do the best with what we’ve got. And so that’s what we do. We just go for it.”  What are you ready to go for?  How can you be grateful in a new way?  How can your generosity expand to a new level?  Proverbs says a generous person will be enriched.  Your 40% control over your behaviors may make all the difference.  Can you imagine your satisfaction – physically, emotionally, spiritually, improving by 40% next year?  We can, at minimum, take a step in that direction.  And practicing gratitude is the best place to start.

You know the story of the rich, young ruler.  A young man who came to Jesus asking, “How can I grow all the richer?”  He asked it by saying, “What do I have to do to inherit eternal life?”  Jesus said, “You saw the felt boards in Sunday School – follow the commandments, etc,”.  The man smiled, “Of course. Got it.  I’m good.”  But Jesus knew he was living with tight fists on his possessions.  So, Jesus challenges further, “Sell what you’ve got and give it to the poor.”  And the line that always pierces my heart flows next.  “The man turned from Jesus and walked away, sad, because he had so much great stuff.” (Perfect for a someday Estate Sale).  I don’t want to spend my life walking away sad. Do you?  It’s all about perspective.  And no one can do perspective for us.  We’ve got to do that spiritual work.  That’s the hard work of the 40% in the happiness quotient. But if I know you, Harvard Avenue Christian Church, I know you’re up for the work.  And I’m so grateful to be on the journey with you.  You are a people who live gratitude well.  I’m happy and I know it.  You?  Maybe worth one more shot…

If you’re grateful and you know it clap your hands. If you’re grateful and you know it clap your hands.  If you’re grateful and you know it then your life will surely show it. If you’re grateful and you know it, clap your hands.

[1] https://www.njlifehacks.com/thanks-robert-emmons-book-summary/  Info shared in this message concerning Emmons work are found at this link.
[2] This quote and the Old School reference found in Bell’s “Drops Like Stars.” Harper One. 2009. Pg 41-42.

text : John 17:10-19

theme verse : “As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.” (John 17:18)

Have you ever been confused in a conversation to the point you felt the person talking to you was speaking a foreign language? In John’s version of 'The Lord’s Prayer,' we may catch some of this sense from Jesus. All this talk of “the world” and who we are in relation to it can be a bit of a brain buster. If we live in the world but are not to be of the world and yet are sent into the world, how do we make sense of our lives as Jesus followers? Perhaps it is figuring out what it truly means to be sent.

anthem : 'Here I Am Lord' (arr. C.Courtney) :: Ashley Pease, vocal; Elizabeth Palmieri, flute; Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano

reader : Bob Flint
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

special music : 'For The Sake of the World' (Bethel) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

offertory : 'Sending the Light and Telling the Nations' (C.Gabriel/H.E.Nichol, arr. S. Daugherty) :: Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano

It was Ben Franklin who is attributed with the quote, “Honesty is the best policy.” The state of Nebraska is taking Franklin’s line to heart.  Research revealed that consumers don’t consider Nebraska a leisure travel destination.  We can likely attest to that.  How often do you hear someone say, “We’re headed on vacation to Nebraska!”?  Or, “Got to get to Nebraska – it’s on my bucket list!”  So, you’re sitting on the Nebraska Tourism Commission… what do you do?  You come up with a very honest campaign which was released to the world this week.  Its catch phrase?   “Nebraska:  honestly, it’s not for everyone.”  Some marketers are calling this genius.  Sort of a reverse psychology notion.  The thought that it might not be for you makes you want to know why. Now I have to go!  A terrific and tested sales tactic – transparency.  When someone asks, “Why should I hire you?” it may be best to answer, “I don’t know if you should.  I’m not a good fit for everybody.”  All the sudden the person leans in to understand further. The honesty campaign is attempting to change the perception that people will say anything to get the sale… to get you to come to Nebraska.  But honestly, it’s not for everyone.[1]

Being “sent” may have some of the same connotation. When you think of being sent, does the thought come with positive feelings?  Some may think of being sent to the principal’s office. Probably not the most positive feeling.  You might think of a solider being sent to the front line which comes with some dangerous implications. Maybe being sent has the nobility of a missionary heading to a remote part of the world to share the love of Christ but… I have heard many a follower pray, “God I’ll go anywhere you need me to go but please don’t send me to……” [Nebraska].  Sent. Hmmm.

We wrap up our in, not of, but for series today wondering about what it means to be sent.  In this prayer of Jesus – a very intimate and vulnerable moment – Jesus offers all of this back and forth word about being in the world but not of the world – praying protection from evil and all that might hold a person apart from a life of faith.  It really is a bit of a tongue twister to read.  “I don’t belong to the world,” he says, and “they don’t belong to the world,” but “you sent me to the world,” and “Now, send them into the world as I was also sent.”  We’ve been wrestling with this reality all series long.  This idea that our ultimate allegiance isn’t to city or country or planet but to the kingdom of God but… here we are, alive in this world, a world that we are also told God sooooo loves so we should “get out there and be a part of it.”  BUT… don’t let it influence you in a bad way. BUT… you’re not being faithful if you’re not out in it trying to spread the love of Christ.  After all, Jesus didn’t come for the well but to heal the sick.  BUT… am I well or am I sick?  My, my.  It’s just all so confusing. When life is confusing, we can become anxious and retract and decide, “I think I’ll just let someone else be sent, thank you very much.”

I felt this way last week when we took the family and a neighbor friend to The Gathering Place.  Have you been there?  It really is amazing. It has claimed sort of the anti-Nebraska slogan: “A Park for Everyone.”   The claim expands to say this: “The Gathering Place is a world class riverfront park designed to welcome all Tulsans to a vibrant and inclusive space that engages, educates and excites!”[2]  Well who doesn’t want to be sent there?  So we went. Me, wife, dog, four kids (each with a scooter to use in one of several skate parks).  What could possibly go wrong?  After the kids had a blast with their scooters, we ventured over to some of the playground areas and stumbled upon these amazing, long, slick, fast slides… a kids dream.  And so all four kids race to get in line… we weren’t the only Tulsans there believe it or not… there were lines.  Carrie decides to slide so I’m left holding the dog and four scooters.  No big deal and probably the name of my first book.  (Either “Left holding the dog and four scooters,” or “Driving the kids around the Target parking lot while Mom runs inside.”  Stay tuned.)  But here we were.  Beautiful night.  Laughter of children.  Me, the dog, the scooters.  It was great.

After going down the big slide, Carrie comes back to the holding area with me and says, “You should really do the slide!” “Nah, I’m good, thanks. Looks fun though.”  “Really, you’ll love it,” she says.  “Okay.”  So I leave her with the dog and four scooters and run up to the top where the children cheer – “Dad’s gonna go down the slide! Yay!!”  And there I am feeling all heroic until… I got sent.  It’s really the only way to describe what transpired. I launched myself down that slide and, given my size and the laws of gravity, I quickly noticed my speed seemed to surpass the others I watched enjoy this park with a slide for everyone.  I also recognize that the bottom of the slide is coming and there are people everywhere and I’m not sure how I’ll stop myself.  And then, Boom!  I was sent like a rocket into the crowd.  I tried to plant my feet which only thrust me head first into this world of park goers with which I immediately did not want to be in, of, or for any more.  It was really a blur from that point forward.  What I learned is this:  I hit my head on a stroller wheel, snapping it completely off of the stroller (and no, no child was in the stroller thank God).  I also grabbed a young lad on my way down, rolling to my back in hopes of not crushing the child but having him land on top of me.  Scared the poor kid as you can imagine.  (This is one of your pastors, my friends).

And so, I’m trying to comfort the boy and his pregnant mother and father who have come over to survey the situation.  The stroller dad is demanding cash for the stroller, two teenage girls give me that scary look saying, “Sir, sir – your head is bleeding.”  And I’m sitting there a bit dazed by the whole thing.  By this time, the boy’s mom has gone into hero mode and is wiping the blood off my face.  The boy is fine (at least physically).  I pay the gentlemen for the stroller damages and manage to find my way back to the dog and four scooters. Once assured that I am fine, my wife runs to the restroom and the kids are off to another playground and I am, once again, holding the dog, four scooters, and bleeding from the head.  So, of course, one of the kind Gathering Place employees approaches me and says, “Sir, has anyone talked to you about our dog policy yet?”  With a bloody face and a hobbled turn as I had twisted my knee upon planting at the bottom of the slide, straddling four scooters and holding my dog, I said to the man, “No sir, no one has shared with me the dog policy.”  At that moment I did not want to be in the world, of the world, or for the world at all.  If I was going to be sent anywhere, I just wanted to be sent home.  It felt more like Nebraska at this point and I had discovered that honestly, it wasn’t for me.

This was a bit of a wild story but essentially just about a little trip I had at the bottom of a slide. When we reflect on the week that was, we know there are much more serious matters tripping us up as a collective of humans. There are bombs being sent. There are those deeming other’s humanity erasable. There are eleven murdered in a house of worship during a baby blessing.  As part of that blessing, the baby is brought before the gathered faithful on a pillow.  Handled with great care but those who love that child desperately.  And upon arrival at the front, the first words spoken are, “Baruch Ha-Ba,” which means “blessed is the one who has arrived.”[3] Isn’t that beautiful?  And over such beauty comes suffocating tragedy.  Retracting into our own bunkers goes far beyond my desire for home after my being sent off the slide. How often have you just wanted to quit… that job, that relationship, that discipline, that diet, that treatment, that club, that whatever because it was just too much.  But life isn’t ultimately lived in a hole of our own making.  The challenge has been, and always will be, to be sent into the world with the spirit and tools we each have to make the world more as it is in heaven. We’ve prayed that very thing already today.  Don’t we mean it?

And so we swallow our pride, we bandage our wounds, and we are sent back out to see if there isn’t something more Christ-like we can bring into the world today. And Jesus goes with us. Jesus prays in this prayer a longing for protection over us as we go.  And to be honest, I think we may often misuse this protection as “traveling mercies” or a “shield of armor” in some physical sense.  Certainly, we pray those prayers earnestly but as I see what plays out for Jesus after he prays this prayer, his arrest and ultimately crucifixion, it’s hard for me to imagine Jesus praying to God, “Protect them from ever being harmed.”  “Pick up your cross and follow me,” doesn’t sound like, “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”  Not a single person was mistaken when it came to the cross carrying business Jesus suggested to his followers.  They’d all seen it.  The cross you carry is the one you’ll die upon.  I imagine Jesus’ prayer of protection is for our souls. That we not grow weary in doing what is right and cash it all in.  That we might not quit seeing one another as holy, beloved, and made in the image of God.  That we might not cast off the stranger or the one we don’t understand because of fear or apathy.

I think when Jesus prays, “As you have sent me into the world, send them into the world,” he is praying for us keep going, living with eyes of faith and hands that heal.  There is a Nicaraguan Mass called, Cristo Trabajador, Christ the worker, where Jesus is the “God who sweats on the street, the God with the sunburnt face, who looks and feels as we do.”  Here is, in part, how the Mass is shared:  I have seen you in a village shop and an Inn on the road; I have seen you at a lottery stall [Mega Millions!] and you were not ashamed; I have seen you at the filling station testing the tires of a truck; and even on the street patrol, in overalls and leather gloves.  I believe in you, comrade, Christ man, Christ worker, Victor over death. With your great sacrifice you made new people for liberation. You are risen in every arm outstretched to defend the people against the exploitation of rulers; You are alive and present in the hut, in the factory, in the school. I believe in your ceaseless struggle, I believe in your resurrection.[4] Could that be what it means to be sent?  To see Christ in all and to be seen ourselves?

Jesus did not pray that his disciples should be taken out of this world.  He never prayed that they might find escape.  He insisted that faith is one lived out among the world.  And if we are going to do this… if we are going to be for the world as Jesus is for the world… we are going to need each other.  This is why Jesus prays, “May they be one as you and I are one.”  Jesus prayed unity for his disciples.  For us.  “Where there are divisions,” says the biblical commentator William Barclay, “where there is exclusiveness, where there is competition between the Churches, the cause of Christianity is harmed and the prayer of Jesus is frustrated.”[5]   Have you ever imagined being the source of frustration for Jesus’ prayer?  I’d never thought of my life in that regard, but it didn’t hurt to put a little fire in my soul to say, “Pull it together, Briley.  Don’t be a divider.  Don’t be caught up in the fray without being heart checked, gut checked, Christ-checked ahead of time with a commitment to be sent into the mix with a Spirit of love.”  To be sent without love is to be sent empty spirited… without resurrection. You don’t bring the love, you’re not going to bring new life to anything.  You’re not going to heal anything. And what good is our witness if we only bring signs of death and no proof of life?

A few years back, a news story was released about an Army veteran named John Crabtree.  He had been receiving permanent disability benefits from the government after being wounded in the Vietnam War. One day, out of the blue, he received an official notification from the government of his own death. It goes without saying that John was a little shocked.  He wrote the government a letter stating that he was indeed very much alive and would like to continue receiving his benefits.  To no avail.  Then, he tried to call the government.  Have you ever tried to call the government?  It’s like standing in line at the BMV or trying to order pizza on Super bowl Sunday… only worse.  The phone calls did no good.  Finally, as a last resort, the veteran contacted a local television station which ran a human-interest story about his situation.

During the interview, the reporter asked him, “How do you feel about this whole ordeal?” John chuckled saying, “Well, I feel a little frustrated by it. After all, have you ever tried to prove that you’re alive?”  I wonder if that may be a reasonable question for us to consider for ourselves this morning.  How do we prove that we are alive?[6] Really, genuinely, deep-down alive?  When was the last time you had an alive moment?  Not the last time you took a breath or had your heart beat inside your chest but the last time you felt your life at a soul level… so connected to your spirit, to another being, to the transformative task in front of you that you could claim: “For this I was created.” “For this very moment, I was sent to be alive.”

That’s sort of a deep question, I know.  And, in my experience, it is an ongoing discovery.  It’s even a daily prayer, “Lord, how will you send me today?”  Some of you may be thinking, “Eh. Sent? Not happening.”  Some may be thinking, “Yes. Sent. I’m in. Where do I go next?” And some of us are teetering somewhere in between those extremes.  I’m not sure what you’re truly thinking in this moment… what you feel hopeful about… and where skepticism is winning out.  What I do know, however, is that even before some of us put on our seatbelts in the parking lot after worship, we’ll start scrolling the social media feeds again.  We’ll turn on Fox News or MSNBC or whatever your flavor of news may be and jump right back into the fray of the Gospel according to billion-dollar production companies.  And we give those voices so much power… and the small voice within you… of this very moment … that’s trying to find a way to the surface of your soul can quickly rescind into the depths until next Sunday.

But there’s a chance – always a chance – that something will be different for you today.  Nebraska may not be for you. Honestly, it’s not for everyone.  BUT… being sent into the next critical decision, moment, situation, relationship… is for you and will be happening next. If you’re ready for that step – to be sent as Christ was sent – not in fear but in love then, “Go! My friend.” We need you out there.  Love needs you out there.  Christ has, in fact, sent you for just a moment such as this…
* * * * *

[1] https://www.forbes.com/sites/henrydevries/2018/10/22/honestly-its-not-for-everyone-nebraska-campaign-is-marketing-genius/#6c1cc4ef418c
[2] https://www.gatheringplace.org/
[3] https://www.kveller.com/article/the-bris-ceremony/
[4] From “Thinking About God,” by Dorothee Solle.  Kreuz Verlag Stuttgart. 1990.  Pg.114-115.
[5] From Barclay’s Commentary on the Book of John.  Westminster Press. 1975.
[6] R. Scott Colglazier, Finding a Faith That Makes Sense.  Chalice Press. 1996.

text : 1 Peter 1:13-16

theme verse : “For it is written, ‘You shall be holy for I am holy.'” (1 Peter 1:16)

Holy Shmoly. Who can really be holy? At best we’re what Nadia Bolz Weber calls Accidental Saints, right? Who wants to be holier than thou anyway? It turns out that some of the first followers of Jesus had the audacity to believe they were holy vessels; a reflection of Jesus at work within their very souls. Maybe we could be set apart in this way? Bishop Will Willimon said, ‘Imagine that if even one person acted more Christian in the church, the church could be totally transformed.’ Could it be? Peter says being holy requires preparedness, self-discipline, hope and grace. What do you think? Are you willing to be set apart? Are you up for being holy?

opening : 'Lord, I Need You' (M.Maher) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, band leader

reader : Todd Maxwell
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

offertory : 'Where There is Faith' (B.Simon) :: Kelly Ford, tenor; Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano

1 Peter 1:13-16
Therefore prepare your minds for action; discipline yourselves; set all your hope on the grace that Jesus Christ will bring you when he is revealed. Like obedient children, do not be conformed to the desires that you formerly had in ignorance. Instead, as he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in all your conduct; for it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”
*

“You’ve got a brand-new life with everything to live for!”[1]  Do you believe that?  “You’ve got a brand-new life with everything to live for!”  That’s what the Apostle Peter says to us as we look over the shoulder of those first century Christians reading his letter to them.  It was his encouragement to keep going forward with the Way of Jesus in a time that was a real struggle to do so. It was all still very new.  Its future very much in question.  Could they maintain the energy of faith to keep going… to be holy like Jesus was holy… to be set apart for something amazing? They found a way to live up to that calling… not perfectly of course… but we’re here today so we know they did their part.  “That’s all well and good,” you say, “that brand-new life stuff, but you don’t know what I’m going through.  I don’t have time to imagine anything brand-new, let alone a brand-new life.”  I hear you.  This very week I was on the phone with someone who was thinking about cashing it all in. There was no way out.  No way forward. No possibility of a brand-new life.  And I’ll admit… it is gut-wrenching to be in such a place… certainly to be in such a place yourself and also hard to be the one walking through such a valley with someone else. “You’ve got a brand-new life with everything to live for?!”  Thanks for the enthusiasm, Peter, but not me. Not now. It sort of makes this, well, a difficult situation. Difficult situations make for difficult conversations and we just don’t have those conversations well.

Sheila Heen literally wrote the New York Times best seller on this subject, aptly titled, Difficult Conversations: How to Discuss What Matters Most.[2] She is a founder of Triad Consulting Group and has spent two decades at the Harvard Negotiation Project.  Her husband teaches negotiation at MIT and, as she notes, they are “both schooled regularly in negotiation by their three kids who are 7, 11, and 14 respectively.”  I heard her speak at a conference a couple of months ago and she told this story about her book tour following the release of her book about difficult conversations. By this point, she had been on Oprah which was the pinnacle of relevance at that time.  She dreamed of a book tour of packed auditoriums and lines of people wanting her to sign their new books, just enamored and grateful for how she had changed their lives.  She was especially excited to launch this tour in her hometown with a book reading.  The publisher reserved a huge auditorium for the event and when the night came and she finally walked out on the stage of this huge auditorium that had the capacity to sit hundreds of people, she was received with the applause of 18 people who comprised one row of that huge space.  Only 18 people showed up!  She’d been on Oprah!  She was a big deal!  This was her hometown.  18 people?  And eleven of them were her family. At one point, her three kids got up to take a break and because the space was hollow without any bodies to absorb the sound, before the back door of the auditorium could close behind the children, her own child, the youngest, says way too loud, “That stunk!”  To which her oldest child responded, “It was supposed to stink.”  And there was their mother, down to fifteen people in the room, cracking a smile as she realized, “This is supposed to stink.”  Who gets excited about difficult conversations?  The masses don’t flock to hear about hard things.

But to be set apart, to rise to the challenge of being holy as Peter suggests is our charge, won’t come without some hard conversations, some gut-check moments, some sacrificing commitments on our part. So, where are you this morning?  Are you up for being holy? And I don’t mean holier than thou.  Nobody grows or benefits from a holier than thou spirit.  But Peter had the audacity to believe he was a holy vessel… that everyone was a holy vessel, capable of far more than we readily give ourselves credit for.  This is why he could say, “You’ve got a brand-new life with everything to live for!”

We are in week two of a new series we’re calling “in, not of, but for”.  I know. Worst title ever, right?  Worse yet, though we launched the series last week on World Communion Sunday, I didn’t even make mention of the series title itself.  I was all excited about the extravagant welcome of Christ at the Table and just couldn’t fit it all in. Even so, this four-week series continues our quest for IDENTITY – our over-arching theme of the year as we’ve imagined who we are individually, collectively, in relation to Creation and world and certainly who we are in Christ.  This series considers our role as Christians in the world.

Christians have long, and fairly, been accused of using insider language.  To some degree, every entity has some language that they’ve come to understand as their own.  Christianity is no different and, admittedly, such can be nostalgic at times; like when singing hymns from our childhood that use phrases that today’s ‘never-churched Charlie’ might find utterly confusing.  “In the world, not of the world,” is one such phrase that we’ve been known to toss out as idyllic.  In brief, it means: ‘though we must exist in the world, we shouldn’t take on the non-Christian habits of the world.’  Like many clichés, this phrase may be used more to cast judgment than inspire faithfulness.  The question we’re pondering in this series is this: Might we redeem the phrase?  If God so loved the world (as we so often quote from John 3:16) perhaps there is challenge in such reality to exist in the world, resist the injustice of the world, and become advocates for the world that our God loves. Can we be in, not of, but for the world?  That’s what we’re considering even today as we imagine the difficult idea of being set apart. Many of us spend a great deal of time trying to fit in, not be set apart.  Others of us want to be set apart in terms of success.  We want to be the best in our given careers.  We expect our teams to win every time.  We already understand some of this tension between fitting in and being exceptionally set apart from the masses.

But Peter tosses out this reminder that we are to be holy.  Now we’re talking something deeper.  And I’m not sure any of us think we are holy at all.  I cannot ever recall anyone describing themselves to me in that way. Have you?  “Hi.  Name’s George. I’m an engineer. My hobbies include stamp collecting and Olympic-style Curling.  And, I’m holy.”  We leave holy for Jesus.  I understand that.  I wouldn’t describe myself as holy either. We may be what Nadia Bolz-Weber calls Accidental Saints … but holy?  Not so much.  But Peter has no space for excuses.  He didn’t get it all right, himself.  He fell. He sinned. He failed.  But he was determined to keep after it.  And that’s where you and I need to start this morning; where we are.  In fact, that’s our only chance for there’s no going back… only forward.  For you, it may be starting in a very foundational place of recognizing that you need God. If you’re going to be holy, you’ve at least got to admit that you can’t get to such a state on your own. You may need to have that difficult conversation with yourself.

Some great and respected scholar was once asked by another if there was a God.  He responded, “I would advise you to ponder whether your conduct would change in any way depending on your answer to this question.  If it would not change, we can drop the question. If it would change, then I can at least help you by saying that you have already decided that you need a God.” Have you reached such a point?  Just because we’ve gathered in this house of worship this morning, doesn’t mean each of us is in a place of acknowledgement that we need God. Maybe you’ve never thought such a thing in your whole life – maybe this whole concept is new to you.  Maybe you’ve gone through the motions for years and have sort of lulled your spirit to a point of hibernation… asleep to the Spirit and not all that concerned with a need for God or a desire to be set apart for some holy purpose. I cast no judgment here – my own spirit has walked the gamut of these realities at times. Sometimes it’s just a bad day or a heavy season.  Sometimes it can be a state of depression.  I’m just asking for us all to make that initial honest assessment.  If I can recognize that I can’t do it alone… that I need God… then we’re on our way to fulfilling that purpose that we are made to fulfill.

Author Shauna Niequist says, “It’s not hard to decide what you want your life to be about. What’s hard, is figuring out what you’re willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about.”  This is what Peter is saying in this first letter he writes to the Church. “Hey!” he says with great enthusiasm – don’t you just see Peter as this speaker with dynamic energy?  “Hey! You’ve already got Christ. You’ve got the potential in you.  You’ve got the Spirit of God in you.  What are you willing to give up, to sacrifice, or to take on to do the things you really care about?”  You’ve been set apart for something meaningful and extraordinary.  It doesn’t have to be grandiose.  It just has to be yours.  You have to own it.  And whatever it is will require some discipline… some spiritual fortitude.  But I’ll tell you this.  Anyone who’s engaging their life with that spiritual energy has never said, at least not to me, “Eh, it’s not worth it.”  What do you need to commit to today to begin that quest forward? 

I have a friend who is quite successful by any standard… life full of steep responsibility and yet she was missing that spirit piece that she longed for and which she knew would require some re-shuffling of her life to be set apart in a new way.  She determined on her own that alcohol was going to have to go.  She was incredibly functional but knew in her own spirit that alcohol was holding her back from being the next best version of herself – set apart for something more.  She told me about it at that time as a point of accountability.  And when she checked in this past week she says to me, “I’m 200 days dry and never felt better.”  As we talked more, she shared what she’s devoting that space and discipline to now which is serving a purpose far beyond whatever purpose alcohol was serving in her life. And somewhere Peter is shouting, “Yes!  That’s what I’m talking about… a brand-new life with everything to live for.” For what are you set apart?  When one of us gains that clarity, owns the discipline required, and gets after it, we all get better. Will Willimon, known best for his years as the University of Duke Chapel preacher and now Bishop in the United Methodist Church once said, “Imagine that if even one person acted more Christian in the church, the church could be totally transformed.”  The questions for you and me:  How do we need to grow? What do we need to let go of?  What can we take on? 

I know it’s hard to imagine making a life change… it’s hard enough just to show up to the world each day as we are.  Even so, I don’t want to miss the chance to challenge you… someone is ready for this… somebody needs this challenge today (and maybe it’s me!).  I just know that I spoke with a church saint one time, lived a long life in the church – a good life – but he says to me, “I’ve spent my whole life trying to make my faith easy. The truth is,” he followed, “it’s not.”  This is why Peter says, “Gird up the loins of your mind.”  That’s sort of an old way to say it and mostly lost on our culture.  In Peter’s day, the clothing most people wore was robe-like and flowy which means if you had to do some tough work it would get in the way.  So you girded up the loose clothing and tucked it into your belt so you could do the hard work that was required.  Peter is saying to do the same thing with our minds; not to be content with a flabby or unexamined faith but to set things out, think them through; discard what doesn’t hold, cling to Christ which is not the same as clinging to human-made doctrine.[3] Clinging to Christ is a growing dynamic as we become more and more familiar with his Spirit at work in us.

This will not lead to perfection… in fact, it may bring about more failure along the way at times.  Anything that takes effort will not come without flaw. But holiness, in Peter’s request of us, is the spiritual pursuit: broken and healed, set back but stronger, sinned but redeemed.  What we need to inspire in each other is a drive to work toward this goal, not discourage each other when we’re not there yet. The great Maya Angelou said, and I paraphrase, “Do the best you can until you know better. When you know better, do better.  We’re all a work in progress.  Unfortunately, we don’t tend to offer enough grace to each other in this regard.  That’s why someone said very honestly to me: “I don’t trust people to accept who I am in process.”  We need to create an environment where we can trust the process of each and every faith journey.  We need to pray into that journey with one another and encourage our movement forward without expecting perfection.  I knew of a man who was trying to work out the call of ministry in his life who was struggling with some of his failures and a friend spoke a word to him that made all the difference.  He said, “I made a decision about ten years ago. I vowed that I would never again follow a pastor who had not known failure. Failure is essential in forming great people.”

Most everybody has a story and it’s often not the one they’re telling.  My prayer is that we can find space together to share our honest stories and how we are growing through the struggles.  That’s how we get better.  It is why Peter includes hope and grace among the qualities that move us toward that holy spot where we are in the groove of the life for which we’ve been set apart.

Fred Craddock was the preacher hero to many would-be-preachers who took that big gulp to grace local church pulpits and attempt to voice the holy hope of God in Christ.  My father was one of them.  In Fred’s stories, he would often personify animals or inanimate objects for it was often easier to receive a word about ourselves when it appeared to be about something else entirely.  On one occasion, Fred described in detail a nine-pound sparrow walking down the street in front of his house.  Fred asked the sparrow, “Aren’t you a little heavy?” The sparrow said, “Yeah, that’s why I’m out walking, trying to get some of this weight off.”  Fred said, “Why don’t you fly?”  And then, as Fred described it, “The sparrow looked at me like I was stupid and said, “Fly? I’ve never flown. I could get hurt!”  Fred asked, “What’s your name?”  And the sparrow said, “Church.”[4]

Church, we were made to fly.  We may be a bit anxious or tired or afraid or resistant but those are all just things getting in the way of us becoming who we are fully designed and capable of becoming.  Let today… let this moment… be different than all of the times you’ve wondered before about flying. May you be filled with courage. You can fly… for you, and me… well, we have a brand-new life with everything to live for.  

* * * * *

[1] As introduced by Eugene Peterson in his Introduction to 1^st Peter as found in The Message. Navpress. Colorado Springs. 2002.
[2] Difficult Conversations: How to Discuss What Matters Most.  Douglas Stone, Bruce Patton, Sheila Heen.  Penguin Books. 2000.
[3] Supported by William Barclay’s “Commentary on 1 Peter.” Westminster Press. 1975.
[4] From Craddock Stories.  Edited by Mike Graves and Richard Ward.  Chalice Press. St. Louis. 2001.

text : Job 12:7-10

theme verse : “But ask the animals, and they will teach you; the birds of the air, and they will tell you…" (Job 12:7)

What if I told you that a man who preached to the birds also saved the church? Francis of Assisi did both these things by many accounts. Francis’ love of nature is more than just a footnote to his extraordinary faith. Here is the story of a mystic who experienced the real world of God’s creation in a way that enabled him to experience God’s word and holiness in ways we can hardly imagine. Maybe we have some lessons to learn from the man behind all the birdbath statues…

anthem : 'The Majesty and Glory of Your Name' (T.Fettke) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director; Susie Monger-Daugherty, organ, and Billie Kay Sawyer, piano

reader : Keenan Barnard
preacher: Kevin Howe

special music : 'Take My Life' (C.Tomlin) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader; Katie Herbert, lead vocal // and 'Revelation Song' (K.Jobe) :: Andi Gross, lead vocal

Job 12: 7 – 10
But ask the animals, and they will teach you;
the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you;
and the fish of the sea will declare to you.
Who among all these does not know
that the hand of the Lord has done this?
In his hand is the life of every living thing
and the breath of every human being.
*

“Are you listening?” That question sits at the number one spot on the list of the most frequent questions that I am asked by my wife. And she is going to have a heyday with the next thing I am about to say, because the truth is that I have a lot of work to do on my listening skills. Now, having said that, I still feel compelled to few excuses in my defense—and you all will have to sort out their merit. First, it would seem that some of us are just wired in such a way that our attention is easily pulled away from the task or conversation at hand. But to make matters worse, we live in a culture where we are inundated by distractions. They are mounted up in the corners of our favorite restaurants, broadcasting the game in the backdrop of our table conversations; they are buzzing in our pockets while we are trying to worship. Hmm, I wonder if I turned my phone on silent? Distraction

Several years ago, author and journalist, Thomas Friedman, said that “It is the malady of modernity. We have gone from the Iron Age to the Industrial Age to the Information Age to the Age of Interruption.”¹ He quotes corporate consultant Linda Stone, who says ours is a time of “continuous partial attention.” That description makes me cringe, because it offers such an accurate picture of my life: “Continuous partial attention is when you are checking Facebook on your phone…while also watching TV, typing an email on your computer and answering a question from your kid. That is, you are multitasking your way through the day, continuously devoting only partial attention to each act or person you encounter.”² Bullseye.

It is the lamentable consequence of all this continuous partial attention that you and I miss some of the most important things happening in our lives. Not just conversation with friends and family (which are important), or the scenic views of our surroundings (which are often marvelous), but we also miss how God may be speaking to us through those things. I wonder, are you listening for how the Holy and the sacred may be revealing itself to you?

The scripture we heard this morning part is of a response that the character Job offers in rebuttal to a few of his friends. If you are not familiar with the story, to say that Job has experienced a great deal loss and suffering in his personal life would be an understatement. And so, three of his friends have come to be a presence at Job’s side, as any good friend would do when we are in turmoil. But as is the temptation in such moments of accompaniment, Job’s friends can’t help but jump in with unsolicited counsel about his circumstances, offering him propositions about what they think God’s position is on his suffering.

Thankfully, Job has the soundness of mind to denounce the so-called wisdom of his friends, eventually offering one of my favorite lines of scripture, he turns to them and says, “If you would only keep silent, that would be your wisdom!” (Job 13:5).

How I have longed to use that line in a number of conversations I have been a part of! And, yet, I know that I am the one that needs to hear these words more often than not. I need to learn how to listen, to listen for how God is speaking into my life. It seems all too often that we mistake our arguments and debates about God’s perspective on any given issue with the word of God that is written on our hearts and in creation. That is to say that talk about God is ubiquitous in our culture, but listening for God is rare. God’s word is embedded all around us waiting to be revealed to us when our hearts and minds are truly open—when we devote more than partial attention to God. We may listen for God’s word when we read our bibles or while we’re listening to a sermon, but there’s more to God’s revelation than that. God is not to be confined to our limited understanding of when and where we should expect to have an encounter. Just read the scriptures and look at all the ways God speaks in the world. Some have been converted on dusty roads, called to through burning bushes, seeking pillars of fire and smoke, offered visions through their dreams. Others found God in the gutters of humanity, serving someone in need. Wherever the sun goes down, or rises, God is apt to be there, the going and coming of angels clearly heard. Celtic Christians spoke about the little book—that was the Bible—and the great book—that was creation … and they read God in both.

And Job says, “Pay attention. Look around you. “Ask the animals what they think—let them teach you; let the birds tell you what’s going on. Put your ear to the earth—learn the basics. Listen—the fish in the ocean will tell you their stories. Isn’t it clear that they all know and agree that God is sovereign, that he holds all things in his hand”³—Are you listening? One person who sticks out from the crowd because of his ability to listen for God in creation was a man by the name of Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone. And since is given name is a little bit of a mouthful, we’ll just refer to him by his popular name, Francis of Assisi. That name is one you are likely to be familiar, as the hospital down the street carries his namesake. You may even connect his name to statues of his likeness in yards around town or mounted atop birdbaths—his name and image are fairly widespread, making St. Francis one of the most iconic of the saints in popular culture.

But I wonder if we would take a little field trip and we all walked the neighborhoods around here, looking for all the yards with St. Francis statues in them, and we went up and knocked on the door and said “oh, I love the statue. What do you know about St. Francis?” “Who’s St. Francis – the guy with the birds?” Or “Oh, I love St Francis, he’s my favorite Saint.” “Oh, really, well, tell me about him.” “Well…he loved animals” (and he did; that’s true). And the idea of Francis feeding the birds is lovely, but he is also an unlikely hero of the church. I don’t imagine we would hear a lot of people saying things like “did you know that Christianity was dying, and St. Francis saved it?” St. Francis cast a spiritual vision for how the gospel message could be lived out in a time when the church seemed to have lost its way.

He was born around the year 1181, a time when the church was in serious danger, plagued by great deal of scandal—power mongering and promiscuity amongst its leadership. It was a time when the secular had pulled attention from those faithful to the church, who had called church a place of sacred community. Disillusioned with the institution that seemed to be out-of-touch with the gospel message, their attention now pulled in other ways, they were walking out, leaving the church and checking their faith at the sanctuary doors. The church was in serious danger…sound familiar?

And along comes this young and vivacious man, the son of a wealthy silk merchant who had practiced all the pleasures of wealth and status. And through a series of events, he had what we would call a spiritual awakening. And this young man leaned in to that experience, making a deep commitment to living out and proclaiming the gospel message. He became known for his extreme understanding of gospel poverty, discovering his more in less—becoming detached both in mind and heart from all worldly possessions. Even the Pope at that time initially balked at the extreme nature of his poverty when Francis sought to create the Franciscan order. But his poverty is so often misunderstood, because for Francis it wasn’t about poverty itself. It was about complete and absolute dependence on God; he was freed from the distractions of material possessions and cultural expectations, and therefore free give full attention to relationship with God, and to listen for how God was speaking to him through the scriptures, through the Eucharist, and through nature.

Seeing the beauty and marvels in nature was another way for Francis to continually praise and love God. This was not an elevation or worship of creation, but a deep respect and love of God’s gifts in it. Gifts of nature brought thoughts of God and divine messages of wisdom, which strengthened Francis relationship to the One who created it all.⁴ He chose to place his full attention in how connection with the rest of creation would reveal God in his life.

His realization of this is highlighted in the story of St. Francis and the birds. It is told that one day, having decided he was to preach the gospel far and wide, he was doing so and birds around him were chirping and creating a great deal of noise, so he shouted to them to “be quiet.” And they kind of gathered around him and he simply continued on, preaching to them. And evidently they had their beaks open and were responding appropriately—not with verbal language, but they were listening is what they would say about the birds. And it was at that moment that he realized that the good news of the gospel was not solely for humanity but, as scripture declare, for all of creation (Rom 8:19-22) and from that time on he took seriously the commitment to preach the gospel to the rest of creation.

There are, of course, a number of stories about Francis and other creatures, which I’d recommend you check out. And the importance of these stories is what they tell us about St Francis: not that there was a man who needed to seek refuge in a world of fantasy, but about a mystic, who experienced the real world in a way that we can hardly imagine because he was committing full attention to it. “Are you listening?” is what I imagine him asking of us.

This week I concluded my four year journey with the Bethany Fellows, a ministry program which provides support for young clergy in their early years of ministry. I am grateful to have been a part of that circle and grateful to you all for your support of me and others in what is a profound ministry and commitment to the development of our church leadership.

I recall my early experiences in that circle, which took place at a retreat center outside of Tampa, Florida. It was my first real experience with the spiritual discipline of silence. This is not just a silence from speaking or listening to music, but a silence from work emails; silence from the all-consuming noise that is my cell phone and computer screens. A silence that is intended to create an intentional space to listen for God.

So free to explore this silence I decided that I would take a stroll out to a lake at the edge of the campus. So I get out there and walk out on this rickety wooden dock and am taking in the beauty of the scene when the movement of something on the railing catches eye. It’s a tiny ant carrying a mayfly that has caught my attention. Now, normally, I would not have given this insect a thought. More accurately, I may not have even seen it, but I had some space to be curious, so there I stood there following the busy movement of this ant, when suddenly I felt something strange happening within me. I no longer felt the weight of my day’s preoccupations and desires. It was as if giving my attention to the pilgrimage of this ant had made them all just fall away.

So freed of those distractions, I continued to follow the ant’s journey—I’m not sure how long, but time was no longer of any consequence. I was in awe and admiration of this determined ant, navigating the vast and highly complex texture and crevasses of the weathered wood that was its world, clutching the mayfly tightly in its mandibles as if life depended upon the delivery of this prized provision, which seemed in my estimation to be roughly the size of a piece of manna.

And that is when it hit happened, I understood the magnitude of what was playing out before me on this sun dyed plank. The scale of the scene was now much larger than inches and centimeters because I had escaped my small-minded thinking about what I was seeing. Now, I saw that the only thing that mattered in all the world was that this ant fulfill its duty and purpose in delivering the mayfly to its whole organism that is its colony. What could have mattered more? What could have been of more significance in the immensity of the universe for this ant? And in this moment of humble reverence, I had a brief instance of clarity! Truth breaking through the smoke and mirrors of my internal illusions, casting out the demons of my self-centered thinking. Here was a sacred encounter—a pithy revelation from the Divine: life is bigger and more important than me and my activities. Creation is bigger than humanity and all of it is groaning for the salvation of our Lord.

I remain grateful for that revelatory reminder, and for that tiny, six-legged cosmic companion, who of all things served as the conduit of divine message. And I’m so thankful for the spiritual discipline of silence that opened me to listen to that message. And to think on a noisier day I would have hastily swept the dock railing off to clear space for a cursory glance at the news on my phone.

Now, I realize an ant may not be the conduit of a divine message for you, but friends creation reveals the wisdom and glory of God in many different ways: in the spaciousness of green pastures, in the serenity of still waters, in the power of a storm, in the gifts of wheat in the field and the fruit of a vine, in the wonder of a stars, the hope we hear in a baby’s cry, in our own breath telling us that this life is good and holy and a gift given anew with every inhale, calling us to gratitude. Are you listening? Pay attention! For the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. Creation is speaking to you and me—it speaks of the wisdom and the glory of our Creator.

Just ask the animals, and they will teach you;
the birds of the air, and they will tell you; 
the plants of the earth and the fish of the sea will declare to you. 
Who among all these does not know
what the hand of the Lord has done? 
In his hand is the life of every living thing
and the breath of every human being.

Are you listening!? Are you listening.

* * * * *

¹ Thomas L. Friedman, “The Age of Interruption,” New York Times. July 5^th, 2006. http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/05/opinion/05friedman.html
² Ibid.
³ variation on Job 12:7-12 from The Message translation
⁴ Jennifer Gregory Miller, “St. Francis of Assisi — Setting the Record Straight,” CatholicCulture.org. October 4^th, 2015. https://www.catholicculture.org/culture/liturgicalyear/blog/index.cfm?id=158

text : Luke 8:22-25

theme verse : “Who then is this that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?" (Lk 8:25)

As if there weren’t already some context clues on their journey, the disciples really begin to wonder about who Jesus is when he dials in a new boating forecast at his request. To call Jesus the Christ isn’t just assigning him a last name. It is a claim that connects him to the divine power that has been at work since the beginning and continues on.

special music : 'Come Ye Sinners, Poor & Needy' (arr.F.Ortega) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

reader : Geoff Brewster
preaching : Rev Mark Briley

meditation : 'Master, the Tempest is Raging' (H.Palmer / arr. S.MongerDaugherty) :: Susie Monger-Daugherty, piano

anthem : 'Total Praise' (R.Smallwood) :: Chancel Choir; Kelly Ford, director

Luke 8:22-25
One day he got into a boat with his disciples, and he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side of the lake.” So they put out, and while they were sailing he fell asleep. A windstorm swept down on the lake, and the boat was filling with water, and they were in danger. They went to him and woke him up, shouting, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” And he woke up and rebuked the wind and the raging waves; they ceased, and there was a calm. He said to them, “Where is your faith?” They were afraid and amazed, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?”
* * * * *

“Who is this that even the winds and waves obey him?”  It’s an epic question and I absolutely love it.  You’ve all had that moment, right, where you’ve been bowled over by someone doing something amazing and you’re left shaking your head, “Who is that woman?”  “Who is that guy?” Or maybe your spouse or your child or your colleague does something out of the ordinary – they load the dishwasher or empty the recycling bin or they turn their report in on time and you’re like, “Who is this person and what have you done with my husband?”  I heard a speaker say once, “If a co-worker thanks you for getting something done on time,” it is not a compliment.  That’s expected. “Wow!” belongs to Batman and those over the top moments that leave us marveling at some thing or someone’s abilities, achievements or simply amazement at a gift, talent or moment of authority over Creation.   There is also that “Who is this?” moment when you get a text from someone who is not in your contacts.  Do you know what I’m saying?  Someone texts you, doesn’t identify themselves and all you’ve got is an area code and a prayer.  What do you do?  You either respond back with a generic enough response like a fishing line in hopes of a response that will give you a greater identifier.  But that’s risky, right?  Because what happens, they respond with new info but you’ve still got no clue.  But now you’re in it thick and you can’t act like you don’t know who it is at this point.  So you carry on an ongoing bubble conversation with that mystery person.  And this is just dangerous.  Much better to start from the onset, if even risking the offense of the other party that they are not named in your list of contacts, “Who ‘dis?”

“Who is this that even the winds and waves obey him?”  Who is this that even the created order takes instruction from this human being in a boat?  We get the amazement of the disciples, right?  The disciples know he’s a gifted leader.  They get that his Ted Talks were getting more views than any other speaker of the day.  They get that he had this uncanny ability to know when to hold ‘em, and know when to fold ‘em.  And remember, Jesus had not completed a 5k just yet – he would soon feed 5,000 men plus that many more women and children.  And it wasn’t until Jesus set that PR with that amazing 5k finish that when asked, “Who is this guy?” Peter finally declares, “You are the Christ.”  But in the boat?  In the storm?  He’s just Jesus to the disciples who said weird things like, “Love your enemies,” and served as the commissioner of their Fantasy Football League.  “Who is this that even the winds and waves obey him?”  Wouldn’t it be amazing to have those moments of awe with Jesus as a way of working up to our declaration of who he is?  We have generally started at the end – death, burial, resurrection – boom, cool.  “Who’s this?”  We’ve already claimed, “He’s Jesus Christ.”  It flows out of our mouths easily enough that we’ve basically accepted that Christ is Jesus’ last name.  We’ve got to be careful with names in this way.

And I am fascinated with names.  For whatever reason, I’ve been amused by the last names of the Tulsa University trio of quarterbacks this year.  Their last names?  President, Skipper, and Boomer.  Am I the only one enamored by this?  And Chad President was actually named by the Bleacher Report to the team of Best Names for the American Athletic Conference last year.[1]  And with the first name Chad – living through the hanging chad incident in the Bush versus Gore presidential campaign – can you imagine?  But I digress.  Christ was not the last name of Jesus – it was a title that tapped into a force that existed with God from the beginning of time and holds with God the end of time as well.  This foundational force which some call “The Cosmic Christ,” is what we imagine today in the second installment of our Creationtide sermon series – a fresh look at the season of Creation and how we engage the Creator of the universe.  How do we experience the Christ that always was?  “Whose,” as Bonaventure says, “center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.”  And from Luke – “Whose very voice can tame the wind and waves.”  All of creation is sacred and necessary for our coming to understand God which is why we should value everything.  Meister Eckhart said it well: “If humankind could have known God without the world, God would never have created the world.” So we have something to learn about the Creator through the creation.

The Cosmic Christ[2] is manifest in Jesus – a point where matter and Spirit culminated in the same place, but the nature of Christ is foundational.  This is biblical.  Ephesians 1. Colossians 1. The Prologue of John’s Gospel (John 1), Hebrews 1, the first epistle of John, chapter 1 – it’s all there and always at the beginning of each of these accounts that “Christ, before the foundations of the world” found us to be “blameless before him in love.” That was Ephesians.  Whoa. The Prologue in John – “In the beginning was the Word.”  That word, the Cosmic Christ, was with God and part of creating all things.  “Not one thing came into being,” John says, “without him.” All things. Such a strong, all-inclusive thing to say. And Jesus spent so much of his time trying to tell us this very thing.  That this energy of God – this creative reality of God and Spirit is in it all and yet in Jesus – became love in the flesh so we could get a grip on the Cosmic Christ.  Jesus became in the flesh what we always needed to grasp but could not and sometimes, still can’t. Jesus poured this idea into his followers over and over.  “Be in me,” he says, “as I am in the Father.”  “As we are one, you should be one too.” “As you do to the least of these, you do to me.”  “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” “I am in all things” and therefore all of creation is filled with the glory of God.

And if, since the foundations of the world, the Christ has been part of it all, how can we not trust the power of the Christ, at work with God and Spirit, to hold the world together – even the wind and waves. And we have to get some space away from the struggles and details of our daily life to capture such a view.  Try telling our brothers and sisters in Wilmington, North Carolina that the Cosmic Christ controls and the wind and waves and see if you don’t get thumped up the side of your head. It’s simply devastating. There’s pain in this life, and struggle and strife to be sure… but get the cosmic view… that if the original incarnation was some 13.8 billion years ago, and Earth some 4-5 billion years ago… and the timeline of humanity’s arrival – to link our calendar to the timeline of all things means we’ve just shown up – we popped onto the scene at the last nanosecond of December 31^st.  We’ve just arrived.  Creation has been singing this song for a long time now and humanity has just begun to learn the song and join in.  It can make us feel a little small; a little insignificant; a little bit like, what Kevin reminded us of last week, that it’s not all about us. And that’s frustrating because we long for a little power, don’t we?

Baptist pastor and professor, Tony Campolo, was driving home after work one day on the Philadelphia expressway when he heard a loud pop under his car.  He had blown a tire and he knew it.  It was rush hour traffic so there could not have been a less optimal time for this but he did his best to work his way over to the far right of the expressway. While mostly on the shoulder, his car stuck out some in the far-right lane which meant everyone was having to get over to the left. It was a hot and muggy day and he knew this was going to be a terrible task.  He left the radio on so he could listen to something while he worked and he pulled the spare tire out of the trunk to get to work on replacing the flat. As he listened to the radio, the traffic reporter came on the air and was reporting from a helicopter above the major roadways of Philadelphia.  The reporter said that traffic was backed up going both ways on the expressway.  It was just a shutdown. Bumper to bumper. And Tony thought, “Oh my, what’s happening – is there some sort of catastrophe, some major car pile-up?  Was the President in town?” (not TU quarterback Chad President – just to be clear). Tony stands up from his tire jack, stands on his tippy toes and stares down the traffic both ways.  “Man, must be a real mess,” he says.  Later, as the reporter shares a bit more, Tony hears him announce, “As I fly over the expressway, I can see that there’s a brown sedan in the far-right lane of the expressway with someone changing a flat tire.  I believe that is what has shut the whole expressway down – brought thousands of commuters to a standstill.”  And Tony said, “That’s me!  I’ve done that.  Right now, children are missing their parents and lovers are not meeting and business deals are not happening, all is falling apart because of me.”  You might think he’d feel bad but he found this strange feeling within him.  To be honest, it was a moment of rush, of power, of control, of … “Who is this that even the Philadelphia traffic obey him?” Even though this was a negative thing, Tony admitted, that it just felt good to have this level of control and command over anything.[3] Which… has been something that has gotten humanity in trouble on a regular basis.

We long to have some control, some say, some power – if not over wind and wave, at least a bit of self-control to make our lives a bit more level, balanced, manageable.  A guy I went to high school with posted on Face Book this week that he was four-weeks smoke free.  No cigarettes and he’d been smoking for decades now.  He posted to encourage others saying, “Anything is possible. If I can quit, you can quit.” I’m proud of his effort.  What I really loved, though, was when he wrote: “Things are going so well that my Cleveland Browns aren’t even losing anymore! We’re tying folks now!  Anything is possible!”  We do have some control, don’t we?  We do have some say?  In the moment in the boat, the storm, Jesus and the disciples, the disciples didn’t believe they had anything they could do about it.  They didn’t believe that the same Christ could be at work in them.  They didn’t trust that the image of God that was within them could come alive in any meaningful way.  Jesus rebukes the waves but he also rebukes his boatmates.  “Why can’t you trust me?” Jesus says.  Whew! That’s a dagger, isn’t it?  And we want to trust.  We intend to trust. We tell others to trust when it’s their storm.  But when it’s our storm?  When it’s our diagnosis?  When it’s our relationship?  When it’s our kid?  When it’s our hurricane?  It’s harder to trust, isn’t it.

But this omnipresent Christ… from the foundations of the world until now… at work in and through all things… is not historically bound.  The resurrection of Jesus brought us a way of saying that his presence was beyond any limit of physical space and time. Jesus didn’t come to create an elite country club with an arbitrary list of requirements for who’s in and who’s out.  Jesus came to reveal something that has always been true everywhere – for everyone – and for all time.  Love, made manifest in God, come to the flesh in Jesus… now present in us… so that no matter the storm, we have a peace that surpasses our rational understanding of why we have such peace at all.  In so doing, we take our place in all of creation – respecting it all, blessing its beauty, and building the value of all created things.  In this way, we quit looking for scapegoats.  We confess our own complicity in the destruction or devaluing of people in whom Christ dwells, in creation in which the foundations of all things are being held, for which we are called to appreciate and care for.  This does not resolve all pain, calm every wave, or save us from moments of despair, but it does remind us that, as Paul’s school says, “Before the world was made, God chose us, chose us in Christ.” (Eph 1:4).  All was resolved from the beginning.  This is the Original Blessing of Genesis 1. In all things, life, death, and everything in between, we are not separated from our Creator nor the Christ that holds us in and through the pain and resurrects our lives – sometimes on earth and ultimately in the heavens.  For me, this doesn’t ease the suffering of children or the loss of a loved one in an accident or by cancer but it helps me trust the Christ present in the first nanosecond of the universe 13.8 billion years ago and in this very nanosecond where we struggle with maintaining our diets and wondering if our actions today can create a better nanosecond for world ahead of us.

I don’t have the answer to the ultimate vast and mysterious questions about how Christ moves among us.  And I more readily relate to the disciples of the boat, panicked about their own life matters who ask, even in his very presence, “Who is this guy?”  But I know this.  They stuck with him.  They watched.  They tried themselves. They failed.  But they learned. And Jesus told them they could do it.  He didn’t even tell them how… he just said, “Go.” They could figure out how. They could move the created order forward into a more beautiful expression of the kingdom of God. It’s why what you do matters even if you feel like you’re not in control of the wind or the waves.  Did you see how many humans rushed toward the east coast ahead of Hurricane Florence?  They couldn’t stop the wind and waves from doing what they would but they could be hands and feet on the ground to be a healer in the aftermath.

You can’t save your child from all pain but you can hold it with them.  You can’t end all racism or sexism or resolve every phobia of your choice but the Christ in you can bring calm to even those waves that are bringing devastating destruction into the world. “Why can’t you trust me?” Jesus must be asking us.  “Why can’t you trust me to work within you?”  “Why can’t you trust me to be present in you, through you, to bring love to the front of things.” And you’ve got that power within you.  It’s redemptive.  You’re never too far gone.  It’s never over.  It’s always possible.  It’s why I love the biblical story of the Woman at the Well.  She’s had a hard go at things.  Relationships haven’t been her strong suit and her neighborhood has labeled her because of her past and she’s kind of accepted and built her days around that label.  Why fight it?  But she met Jesus who told her, Christ is in the water, that she could start again. Her first thought?  “Who is this man who knows everything I’ve ever done and believes in my potential still?”  And she returns to her village, never the same, inviting others to be their best selves, marveling at the gift of Christ to empower even them.

Who is this man that even the wind and wave obey him?  The Cosmic Christ, you say?  The very Spirit of God who from the foundation of all things was there, in-it-to-win-it, entered in the flesh of Jesus of Nazareth and now present to us to see resurrection-life popping up all around us?  Whew. That’s a lot. And it is.  And the disciples thought so too. But it changed them. Will it change you? It’s a season of change.  The calendar says autumn finds us this week.  Pumpkin Spice everything will soon take over the world.  I saw that Oscar Mayer is even getting in on the craze:

Oscar Mayer, doing its part for the season.

Pumpkin Spice Bologna.  I’m not overly concerned about you missing out on that.  What I don’t want us to miss in this season of Creationtide is that the work of Christ has always been and shall always be… AND continually invites us into the effort. So, don’t downplay your role.  Claim it. Own it. Trust it.  And see how Christ, in you, brings creation to life in a whole new way.

* * * * *

[1] https://bleacherreport.com/articles/2721451-the-best-names-in-college-football-in-2017#slide0

[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FGObtu-EMI  Richard Rohr has done much work on the concept of The Cosmic Christ.  His work at the above link incapsulates his efforts and was helpful for my own understanding in the shaping of this message.

[3] https://tonycampolo.org/store/all-books/choose-love-not-power/.  From Tony Campolo’s book shared at this link.  I heard the story told by Rev. Dr. Glen Miles, Senior Minister at First Community Church in Columbus, Ohio.  http://glenmiles.org/

Anthem: “How Great Thou Art” (Arr. Courtney) :: Kelly Ford, soloist; Billie Kay Sawyer, pianist

Reader: Doc Shannon

Preaching: Rev. Mark Briley

Communion: “Wonder” (Hillsong United) :: The Rising Band; Andi Gross, soloist; Isaac Herbert, leader

Psalm 66:1-12
Make a joyful noise to God, all the earth; sing the glory of his name; give to him glorious praise. Say to God, “How awesome are your deeds! Because of your great power, your enemies cringe before you.  All the earth worships you; they sing praises to you, sing praises to your name.” Selah Come and see what God has done: he is awesome in his deeds among mortals. He turned the sea into dry land; they passed through the river on foot.  There we rejoiced in him, who rules by his might forever, whose eyes keep watch on the nations—let the rebellious not exalt themselves. Selah  Bless our God, O peoples, let the sound of his praise be heard, who has kept us among the living, and has not let our feet slip. For you, O God, have tested us; you have tried us as silver is tried. You brought us into the net; you laid burdens on our backs; you let people ride over our heads; we went through fire and through water; yet you have brought us out to a spacious place.
*

When I was ten or eleven years old, I spent hours every summer day out on our back concrete patio throwing a tennis ball against a brick wall.  I’d throw it hard, field it and throw it again.  Over and over and over.  Typically, I’d bring my old jam box outside too, pop in Michael Jackson’s Thriller album on cassette and let it play all the way through. Rewind it and start it over. When I wore out the brick wall, I’d start throwing the ball up on the roof, track the roll, catch it as it bounced off and fly it again.  Occasionally, the ball would get stuck in the gutter.  The ball was a pretty important component of the fun so I had no choice but to retrieve it. I discovered that the air conditioning unit over to the side of the house could get me half way to the roof. Placing a big cinder block on top of the A/C unit gave me enough height that I could reach the gutter with my fingertips.  I’d stretch my fingertips around the edge of the gutter, hang from the gutter and America Ninja Warrior myself about eight feet over to the old rusty antenna pole.  Then, I’d shimmy up the pole until I could stretch my legs around it to get up on the roof. Once on the roof, I could scoot over to where the ball had gotten stuck and toss it back to the ground.  If my mom is listening to this message online right now, she is surely shaking her head for this risky behavior.  What’s worse is that I kind of liked climbing up on the roof.  My body was big enough that hanging on the gutter didn’t prove well for the gutter over time and that little eight-foot section that I dangled from to get over to the antenna pole became bent and battered and not so effective in its guttering task – and it looked terrible.  Mom, again, my apologies.

What truly became some of my favorite times to climb up on the roof was at night time.  I’d shimmy up my customary way, lay down on the roof and gaze at the stars – the wonder of the world from a rooftop in a tiny, rural, Missouri town. It was magnificent. “Look what God has done!” I would think to myself. It is really a magical memory of my childhood.  Goose bump kind of moments.  We all want those goose bump moments, right?  They come when you are overcome by awe and beauty and wonder.  Gazing upward from the floor of the Grand Canyon. Hearing your favorite song sung a cappella in a quiet room with the greatest acoustics.  Standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial.  Seeing the sun being swallowed by the ocean when the day is done.  Goose bumps.  Our very bodies are telling us that we are standing in the presence of greatness and experiencing something beyond simple explanation.  When is the last time you’ve simply been in awe of something?

You know, studies show that people who are capable of experiencing awe are also more likely to be compassionate and sensitive to the needs of others.  Isn’t that interesting?  Yet, the evidence also seems to be pointing us toward a discouraging trend.  Many people are not seeking the mysterious and awe-inspiring moments any more… or have become desensitized to their presence. We spend more time looking down at our smart phones than up at the stars in the sky.  The noise of our daily lives drown out the beautiful music all around us that can surprise, delight and lift our spirits again. H.G. Wells said, “There was a time when I looked up at the stars and felt a sense of awe and wonder. Now I look at the stars in the same sense that I look at the wallpaper in a train station waiting room.”  How disheartening. And do you want to know something else I learned this week? Christians may be losing the wonder faster than anybody else in the world.

A recent article published by the Pew Research Center puts up the fresh data.  They demonstrate that Americans are getting less religious as a whole (by the measures of our traditional standards – worship attendance for example) but feelings of awe and wonder for non-religious persons are on the rise.  The most significant change they note comes from what may seem like an unlikely place – American’s atheists.  The number of atheists who reported feelings of wonder about the universe soared from 37% to 54% over the span of their study — a whopping 17 percentage points.  This is a higher percentage than both evangelical Christians and Catholics: 48% and 42% respectively.[1]  Where has all the wonder gone, my friends? When people say we are full of it, I want them to say we are full of wonder, not full of anything else.  Okay. Honest self-check moment for each and every one of us… Simple yes or no answer to the question.  You don’t have to say it out loud but trust your gut response to this question.  “Have you lost the wonder of your faith?”  The Psalmist has a thought or two about wonder to help us close our series in wonderland.

“Make a joyful noise to God!”  “Give it up for God!” the Psalmist says.  ‘Say to God, “How awesome are your deeds.”  “You are so good,” the Psalmist writes, “that your goodness is cringe worthy to your adversaries.”  “Say of God, “We’ve never seen anything like him!” When your enemies see you in action, they slink off like scolded dogs.”   Fascinating.  The Psalmist, presumably David here, says, “The whole earth falls to its knees in awe.” It’s a word to awaken ourselves to the world around us… awaken even to the Spirit within you.  Don’t miss this.  Don’t become desensitized or over stimulated to the point where you’re no longer in awe of your place in the world.  It seems to be the unfortunate reality of politics right now – that we’re hardly shocked any more by what gets said, what length ads will go to in order to dehumanize their opponent, or what we will tolerate as acceptable vernacular of elected officials.  We lose the wonder, we begin to think those things matter less or if we’re not inspired to wonder, we become less inclined to do our part to make things better.  There’s research that suggests this is true as well.

Coming out of the work of Paul Piff and Dacher Keltner, researchers from the University of California, Berkeley, we learned of an experiment they tried on campus.  In a particular quadrant of the campus, there is a spectacular [grove of trees] grove of Tasmanian blue gum eucalyptus trees, some with heights exceeding 200 feet — a potent source of everyday awe for anyone who walks by.  Piff and Keltner thought they’d take advantage of its natural wonder to conduct an experiment.  The design was simple.  They took participants to that area and had them either look up into the trees or look at the facade of a nearby science building, for one minute. Then, a minor “accident” occurred (which was the planned part of the experiment): A person stumbled and dropped a handful of pens. Participants who had spent the minute looking up at the tall trees — not long, but long enough, filled with awe — picked up more pens to help the other person that the participants staring at a blank wall.[2] This happened over and over again.  We lose awe, wonder, goose bumps … maybe worship… we lose a sense that what we do matters and can make a difference in the world.  If we give up on that, then what?  Perhaps the disappearance of integrity, service, and the sheer goodness of humanity. If wonder and awe make us more Christ-like in our behavior, then why not give more room for it in our lives?

The awe will cause us to pause in our tracks initially, at times eliciting a fear-like response as fear is a close companion of awe.  It can compel us to act.  It may be why the Bible speaks frequently about “the fear of the Lord” as we note in multiple places in the Psalms.  The fear comes with the newness – maybe a component of God we have not yet fully uncovered in our lives.  This is one important reason not to get complacent in our faith.  Not simply to slack in our efforts to seek God more, further, deeper.  We get complacent – eh, we know enough, we’re comfortable enough, the God I have works well enough to keep me comfortable where I am so I think I’ll not press those limits any further thank you very much.  But there is no wonder in complacency.  And if Jesus is anything, he is not complacent – we can’t follow him content with our own complacency of faith. This may make us a bit uncomfortable.  You mean I have to reconsider some things?  You mean I have to stretch myself on that issue, that matter, that idea, that call to service?  Oh yes, we do.

You may remember C.S. Lewis’ great work, “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”  In his book, God is very much like Aslan the Lion. In the course of this Christian fantasy, the character named Susan asks Mr. Beaver the question of whether Aslan the Lion is safe. She admits that she would be rather nervous about meeting a lion.  “Safe?” replied Mr. Beaver. “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”  Nothing about Jesus is safe but I believe everything Jesus invites us into in following him is good.  It may be dangerous wonder, but it is the only thing that will transform us, and the world, into earth as it is in heaven.  In this way, wonder is not lackadaisical.  Yes, we need to get lost in wonder sometimes, lost in the overwhelming sense of beauty and magnitude and recognize our smallness in the cosmos but most often, wonder should inspire us… propel us forward into the good work of the Good News.  It is the inspiration that pushes us through the muck to the promised land.  This is why Oklahoma State plays the clip of Kurt Russell from the movie Tombstone before every game:  “You tell ’em I’m coming … and hell’s comin’ with me. Ya hear? Hell’s comin’ with me!”[3]  It’s the wonder of going through hell and coming out the other side.

Our Christian approach has a bit of a different vibe to it than that, but the Psalmist does recognize the wonder of what it means to go through hell and keep pressing forward. He writes in verse eight: “Bless God!  Give him a thunderous welcome!  Didn’t he set us on the road to life?  Didn’t he keep us out of the ditch? He trained us first, passed us like silver through refining fires, brought us into hardscrabble country, pushed us to our very limit, road-tested us inside and out, took us to hell and back;” until what?  “Finally, he brought us to this well-watered place.”  That well-watered place was the Promised Land – sign and symbol of God’s ultimate deliverance to a spacious place.  That spacious place for you may be that space in your soul deprived of wonder.  The Hebrew word used there for spacious place may be more accurately translated, “to a saturation,”[4] which I absolutely love.  This idea that God may bring us in wonder, through hellacious valleys into a saturation… a soul fully immersed in love and grace and wonder that we cannot help ourselves but become a force of transformation in every corner of our lives – our marriages, relationships, work places, government, neighborhoods, bowling allies- not a single place that doesn’t need a little wondrous transformation.  That study coming out of Berkeley that I’ve referenced already discovered that everyone who experiences awe and wonder (no matter its source) share two characteristics: vastness and accommodation. In other words, you have this encounter that is so expansive and mind blowing that it nudges you to change the way you process the world.  And whenever you change the way you process the world, doing so in a more Christ-centered fashion, the world gets better, stronger, less fragmented, more whole.  Be someone who is saturated in wonder.  It will set you up for opportunity to see and feel and experience what you wouldn’t otherwise.

The burning bush confronting Moses – certainly a wonder, yes?  Goose bumps. What did it require?  Moses had to take a timeout – at least if he wanted to do more than glance at it. Barbara Brown Taylor invites us to wonder about this encounter of Moses and the burning bush. “He could have just peeked at it.  He could have seen the flash of red out of the corner of his eye, said, “Oh, how pretty,” and kept right on driving the sheep. He did not know that it was an angel in the bush, after all. Only the storyteller knew that. Moses could have decided that he would come back tomorrow to see if the bush was still burning, when he had a little more time, only then he would not have been Moses. He would just have been a guy who got away with murder, without ever discovering what else his life might have been about. What made him Moses was his willingness to turn aside.”[5] What makes you, you?  What was the turning point of wonder that set your life on a course that has changed your world… if not the world around you?  And, I wonder something else… What if… for every single one of us regardless of age or stage of life, that wondrous moment has not yet occurred?  Are you ready to receive it?

So what if you lived your life wonder-full?  Crank up your favorite song when it comes on the radio.  Read a non-fiction book about a church saint or someone whose wonder-turn inspires you.  Spend less time working and commuting when you can and spend more time outdoors and with other people. Give up the working weekends and late night meetings for camping trips, picnics and midnight skies.  Go to art events and soak in live music and go to the theater or a museum. Climb up on your roof, however you have to shimmy up there and soak in the stars as you did when you were ten years old.

Experience more awe.  Seek out what gives you Goosebumps.  For when you do, your soul gets brighter, your life gets better, you serve more freely, and God is glorified.  And I can’t imagine what could be more wonder-full than that.

Footnotes:

[1] Carol Kuruvilla, “Americans may be getting less religious, but they’re feeling more wonder,” The Huffington Post, January 26, 2016. huffingtonpost.com.

[2] Paul Piff and Dacher Keltner, “Why do we experience awe?” The New York Times, May 24, 2015, nytimes.com.

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tombstone_%28film%29

[4] Commentary note here stemming from the work of Bob Kaylor, Senior Writer for Homiletics Magazine, on this passage from Psalm 66.

[5] Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith (HarperOne, 2010), 25.

“Lord move, or move me,” goes the lyric sung by the group, Far From Home. We’ve all likely done our best to move God like a chess piece in the game of our lives; longing to control every aspect of our lives. To our dismay, we wonder if God’s not ready to move or if God is moving in some different way altogether. As we bless student backpacks this morning and encourage our educators as they find their way into another school year, we draw from the experience of Moses who is standing on the brink of the unknown wondering, “Will you go with us, God?” Maybe God has already moved. Maybe God is waiting to move us.

Opening: “I Will Follow” (Chris Tomlin) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

Reader: Scott Booren

Preaching: Rev. Mark Briley

Communion: “Lord Move (Or Move Me)” (FFH) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

Anthem: “This Is the Day the Lord Has Made” (M. Hayes) :: Chancel choir; Kelly Ford, director; Joe Metzer, trumpet; Eric Noble, trumpet; Rod Clark, trombone; Dale Barnett, trombone; Susie Daugherty, pianist

Wonder:  Moving God

Harvard Avenue Christian Church

August 19, 2018

Exodus 33:7-16

By:  Mark Briley

Exodus 33:7-16

⁷ Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, far off from the camp; he called it the tent of meeting. And everyone who sought the Lord would go out to the tent of meeting, which was outside the camp. ⁸ Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all the people would rise and stand, each of them, at the entrance of their tents and watch Moses until he had gone into the tent. ⁹ When Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and the Lord would speak with Moses. ¹⁰ When all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would rise and bow down, all of them, at the entrance of their tent. ¹¹ Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend. Then he would return to the camp; but his young assistant, Joshua son of Nun, would not leave the tent.

¹² Moses said to the Lord, “See, you have said to me, ‘Bring up this people’; but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. Yet you have said, ‘I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.’ ¹³ Now if I have found favor in your sight, show me your ways, so that I may know you and find favor in your sight. Consider too that this nation is your people.” ¹⁴ He said, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” ¹⁵ And he said to him, “If your presence will not go, do not carry us up from here. ¹⁶ For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people, unless you go with us? In this way, we shall be distinct, I and your people, from every people on the face of the earth.”

Do you ever wake up in the morning thinking: “I don’t think I can possibly get out of bed today.”  For some I know this is a daily, physical challenge that can be frustrating, limiting, and downright painful. Other times, this thought comes from a place of utter exhaustion. You’re coming off an incredibly full and trying day and you awake to discover the bed has now become a part of your body and it has just sucked you into its pillowy goodness. You can’t imagine moving from that spot… maybe not for the rest of your life; you certainly can’t imagine rising to some level of productivity any time soon.  Well, you might feel like this: “I can’t adult today. Please don’t make me adult today.”

Or maybe you’ve had that experience of needing to lay totally still so as not to upset the toddler that is sleeping in a Pack ‘n’ Play in the room you’re staying in while visiting family.  I don’t mean to be so specific – I just imagine such an occurrence might happen. You know the toddler is already awake and is peering over the edge of the toddler kennel just poised to erupt at the slightest movement from the adult bed nearby.  Total stillness. Don’t move. If you need to use the restroom yourself, well, you decide how important the precious moments of silence are to you. Sometimes it’s hard to even imagine making the move to get out of bed. But that’s only the start of day, right?

We wonder about moving through the rest of our lives too. We have our routines and daily motions that take us from here to there.  We’re influenced by what we study, what we watch, who we engage, our family systems, our colleagues, even strangers.  You may say, “I’m my own person.  Nobody moves me.  I move when and how I want to move.”  Perhaps.  But the power of influence may move us more than we know. I participated in a leadership conference last week.  Powerful experience.  Always fires me up to imagine new ways to lead and create and cast vision.  Always moves me… to stay on message. Juliet Funt was one of the presenters. She is the CEO of WhiteSpace at Work[1] which is an organization that focuses on getting the most out of your time at work. Her name will sound familiar to some of you as her father, Allen Funt, was the creator of Candid Camera – which was sort of the original hidden camera reality show that launched in the 1940’s.  If you’re not old enough to remember the show, think Ashton Kutcher’s “Punk’d” on MTV.  If you’re not old enough to remember Punk’d on MTV, then choose your favorite YouTuber who pranks people. Everybody got the picture? You say, “Nobody can move me?”  Check this out… [elevator prank Candid Camera video]

This gives new meaning to Paul’s word to the Christians at Rome, “Do not be confirmed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your minds.” We are in our third week of wonderland and today we’re wondering about how God moves. Can God be moved?  How does God move us?  I remember as a kid, one of my classmates thinking he could stunt our Sunday School teacher.  He asked her the classic question, “Could God make a rock so big that God couldn’t move it?”  I don’t remember her answer. But we wonder about these things, yes?  We get concerned about our place in the world. Are we in the right spot? As a student minister, an Executive of one of the largest companies in Indianapolis where we lived and served came to my office with this great concern about a job opportunity that would move her out of state. Should she stay or should she go?  I was all of 23 years old, wide-eyed, and thinking, “Don’t screw this one up, Briley.” Seemed like a big deal with a lot at stake. She told me more.  I listened harder… to her… but also for God to bail me out of this one. She finally asked, “How do I know where God wants me to be?” I scanned my office walls for an inspirational quote on a poster or something to no avail. I ultimately offered something to the effect of “God calls us first and foremost to be a certain kind of person. It’s not always about location. We get ourselves right, centered, focused; and God can use us wherever we are.” Moses never made it to his promised place after all. Did that devalue all he did with his life?  I don’t think so. I wish I would’ve had the words of Mother Teresa in that moment.  Someone once asked her to pray that they would have clarity about a particular situation. Her response was humbling if not a tad shocking: “I will not do that,” she said. “Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of. I have never had clarity,” she said.  “What I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God.”  I wonder about this movement of God and realize I often want control of God’s movement… or at least, in choosing my own movement, I want God’s blessing.

Moses didn’t make it to the Promised Land himself but he was constantly moving toward it.  We hang with him this morning and a brief snippet of the fascinating narrative of the book of Exodus. When you look at the context of Exodus, you find that the human race is in trouble and, I suppose, we arguably always are.  Enormous energies have been and continue to be expended by many, many women and men to get us out of the trouble we are in – to clean up the world’s mess.  There has been tremendous skill and intellect and passionate persistence to shoulder this burden – to move humanity out of the muck and into the blessing we may best call salvation. Though we try, we cannot do this without God. Salvation is the biggest word in the vocabulary of the people of God.  It literally describes God doing for us what we can’t do for ourselves.  It’s the comprehensive term of God’s moving us from mess to wholeness. Exodus tells of this powerful and dramatic movement of God among Moses and the Israelites. Salvation isn’t described in an abstract truth but rather in this narrative. And narratives, like any good story, are invitations for us to participate – first through our imagination and then, if we will, by faith – moving in our own lives in full response to God.[2]

Our passage from the 33^rd Chapter is part of the gripping narrative of a severely brutalized people who are saved from slavery and moved into a life of freedom, which brings about it’s own challenges.  How do they – how do we – move in this life of freedom… this salvation?  Moses is leading the Israelites in the wilderness – trying to find their way to the Promised Land. Things haven’t been, shall we say, spectacular. Moses goes to this leadership conference with God on the mountain and comes back to find the people are out of control, partying and carrying on, and his brother, Aaron, who was left in charge, didn’t get the house cleaned up before big Brother got home.  The people had literally created a Golden Calf to be their god and it was just a mess which led to a period of destruction and death and misery.  Moses ultimately goes back to meet with God and his TPS report is not so good.  In fact, Moses says, “God, it’s terrible. These people have sinned, made gods of gold for themselves.  If you won’t forgive their sin, fine, but then just erase my name out of the book you’ve written.”  But what does God say.  “No. Get on with it, Moses. Keep moving forward.” God adds, “But… I may not go with you and these hard-headed people.  I need a break.”  Have you ever been so fed up with someone or some group that you’ve just said, “I am so done.” This is the narrative we have going here in this conversation between God and Moses. And so comes the reset.  When you’re coming off a rough patch… a mistake or series of mistakes… or you’ve lost your spirit … which wandered away a bit at a time because you quit feeding your soul… you reset.  Your next move is not location… it’s getting your heart re-focused.

And so Moses sets up a tent outside of the camp.  Diana Booren, in her brilliant sermon last week, spoke about tents – especially loving that line about Jesus from the Gospel of John: “The Word became flesh, and pitched his tent among us.”  Moses pitches this tent outside of camp to get refocused. He calls it the “Tent of Meeting,” which sounds very formal.  But it created this ritual of Moses going out to the tent to interact with God.  “And God spoke with Moses face-to-face,” the text says, “as neighbors speak to one another.”  They spoke like neighbors.  I love that.  “What are we going to do about these moles, God? Their killing our yard.” “I don’t know Moses. How are we going to get Mabel across the street to put her garbage can in at night?”  You know – neighbor talk.  When Moses would go to the Tent, the people would stand at attention at their own tents. Watch. Wait.  The whole time.  They didn’t surf the web or plug in their ear buds and tune out the world. The stood. And waited.  That was respect.  How do you spell respect?  R-E-S-P-E-C-T!  (Rest in peace, Aretha).  This was a shift, right?  The people had recently grown impatient with the movement of God… I mean they feel like they are wandering aimlessly, getting nowhere, so they took matters into their own hands.  They melted their gold and created a calf that they called, “Holy Cow!”  But, as we often discover, the material possessions, our financial wealth, is not soul-sustaining.  And so the people stand reverently, waiting, ready to move but not without God’s leading.

I love the exchange Moses then has with God in this Tent of Meeting.  The Message version of the Bible lays it out like this:  “Moses says to God, “Look, you tell me, ‘Lead this people,’ but you don’t let me know whom you’re going to send with me.  You tell me, ‘I know you well and you are special to me.’ If I am so special to you, let me in on your plans. That way, I will continue being special to you. Don’t forget, God, this is your people, your responsibility.” Talk about direct!  God responds, “My presence will go with you. I’ll see the journey to the end.” Moses says, “You darn right you will.” (I added that part).  He says, “If your presence doesn’t take the lead here, call this trip off right now. Are you traveling with us or not?”  And God finally consents; “I will go with you.”

Do you ever lack in your persistence with God?  Jacob, whose wrestler name is Israel which means struggle or wrestle, scraps with an angel by the creek and with God’s angel in a headlock demands: “I won’t let go until you bless me.”  He doesn’t walk away from the encounter unscathed.  He limps from there on out but he got the blessing. We are all limping in some way; none of us escape this world without the trials of mind, body and spirit.  Perhaps the angle, then, becomes in the way we wonder about blessing… about moving God… about God moving us. In our American culture, we are encouraged not to wait.  We are told most of life’s problems can be fixed…and fast. Like our fast food we expect God to change our lives instantly.  Sue Kidd, a writer who is an admitted quickaholic, says this about her own resistance to waiting:  “When you are waiting you are not doing nothing. You’re doing something. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.”[3] You can’t move as God calls you to move. Moses and the Israelites may have gotten it wrong much of the time so far, but in this moment they had become more patient in their persistence.  They had been banging there heads against the same ceiling and it wasn’t working.  It’s like that person who just keeps going hard, hard, hard… keeps getting up again and at first we’re like, “Man, isn’t that something?!”  We just love that tenacity.  Look at them go. But after a bit we’re like, “Do you think he’s got a concussion?” “Do you think we should tell her it’s not working.” We go from “Go, go, go!” to “Wait, this is not smart.  Stay down. Don’t get up until you figure this part out.”

But in that moment, we often feel helpless.  We just want it fixed.  We want God to move like we want God to move.  Imagine, however, trying to talk to a child, giving them directions on how to find their way through a problem but all the child is doing is running around you in a panic, no eye contact, jabbering so much themselves that they can’t possibly hear a word you may have to say.  What do you do?  When this happened at school, I remember Mrs. Shackleford stop and simply say, “I’ll wait.” God surely sees us running around, building golden calves, surrounding ourselves with noise 24/7 and must finally have to say, “I’ll wait.”  You want to make a move? You wondering about that job or that class or that relationship or that shift or that opportunity or that concern or that heartache? God very well may be waiting for us to quit mindlessly scrolling through our social media feeds, glossing over our prayers and not honoring our bodies need for Sabbath, for rest; so that we might stand at attention at the front door of our lives saying, “Okay, God.  Move in a way that I’ve never seen before.  Or… move me.”  This is trust.  It may not be total clarity.  But trust is where it’s at. Do you trust God to move you?

Now. It has long been studied that people may only retain 10% of what they hear in any oral presentation so I’m not foolish enough to think you hang on my every word.  In fact, there’s another Candid Camera clip, maybe the most famous of its forty year history, that demonstrates our quick ability to forget the message.  Take a look…[girl taking message – Candid Camera video]

If you forget this message, I understand. But if you hold onto something as you begin a new school year, or enter a new season of your life whatever that may be… even if it’s a new season simply called “Making it through today,” as your pastor, I’m praying you hold onto this word:  trust.  Trust God. Don’t move the way the culture pressures you to move; making gold into calves or climbing ladders for the sake of impressing your classmates at school reunions. Instead, wonder about the movement of God in your life. When you awaken each morning and think you couldn’t possibly move out of bed, pray for God to move your heart, “God, move me today as you will.” If you can trust, you can move in the confidence that God is with you.  Which, ultimately allows you to be you. Which is good!  We need you to be you because, well… everyone else has already been taken.

Footnotes:

[1] http://www.whitespaceatwork.com/.  Funt showed the two Candid Camera clips used in our service as part of the conference.

[2] Exegetical background and contextual set-up as found in Eugene Peterson’s introduction to the book of Exodus in The Message. NAVPRESS. Colorado Springs. 2002.

[3] From Michael Yaconelli’s book, “Dangerous Wonder.” NAVPRESS. Colorado Springs. 1998.

I Wonder as I Wander is typically a hymn we sing during Advent. The melody itself is very mysterious and spirit-provoking. Beyond one season a year, however, it seems we spend much of our lives wondering as we’re wandering here and there. What is wonder anyway? And why do we have such capacity? In Jesus, we experience God as one who came to share in our wonder. God chose not to remain separate from us but come and see what we see; feel what we feel, wonder alongside of us. What do you wonder? What might God do with such wonder?
Theme Verse: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses…” (Hebrews 4:15)

Opening: “Lion and the Lamb” (Bethel Music) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

Reader: Chad Roberson

Preaching: Rev. Mark Briley

Communion: “I Wonder As I Wander/Can You Imagine” (Arr. Anna Johnson) :: The Rising Band; Katie Herbert, soloist

Offertory: “The Prayer” (D. Foster) :: Todd Maxwell, soloist; Christina Maxwell, soloist; Susie Daugherty, soloist and pianist

Hebrews 4:14-16

¹⁴ Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. ¹⁵ For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. ¹⁶ Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

I was single-dad-in’ it this past week as Carrie was in Cincinnati helping lead a conference for pastors and their spouses.  Dane, our middle son was with Pastor Darlene and the Transformers in Action (our 3^rd-5^th graders) in Arkansas on their mission trip so it was just me, Morgan, Hayes and our puppy, Taylor.  It made for an interesting dynamic of activities and conversations that we don’t usually get to have. At dinner one night, I was telling the kids about a story I had read about that day.  It was the story of Kane Tanaka, a Japanese woman who became the world’s oldest living person a week ago when Chiyo Miyako died at the age of 117 years and 81 days. I’m not sure gaining the title was something you then celebrate or what but at 115 years and 210 days, Kane is now the oldest living human. From the presidential reigns of Teddy Roosevelt to Donald Trump – she’s been scootin’ around this earth. She sold rice cakes during World War II and worked that store until she retired at the age of 63. She’s been retired for almost half of her life! She shared about several of her visits to the United States in retirement to see her family. Kane survived colon cancer at 103 and is still fairly mobile with the use of a walker.  She loves to write poetry.  And… she attributes her longevity to her faith in God.[1]

I’m relaying this story to my kids who are just astonished. I asked them, “What do you think she wonders about?” I mean – she is what they call a supercentenarian – a person who has reached at least 110 years old.  Two years ago, she was only the 14^th oldest living person in the world.  She’s moved up that list pretty fast. What do you think she wonders about?  Morgan couldn’t imagine what she must still wonder about and Hayes simply thought she wonders about “being old.” [Theme Slide] I’m totally fascinated by humans – probably harkens back to my interest in Psychology – which was my major in college.  Kane Tanaka – created in the Imago Dei, the very image of God – what does she wonder about?  I wonder about you too.  You wandered into this place today dealing with any number of things in your life.  What are you wondering about this morning?

It really is one of the greatest things about being alive, don’t you think?  We have this amazing capacity to wonder. We wonder about all kinds of things. I wonder what else is out there in the universe.  I wonder if you feel welcomed here today.  I wonder what Jesus thinks about our country.  I wonder if we preach grace but think judgment.  I wonder about the future.  I wonder about my kids and what they’ll do with their lives.  I wonder what I’ll have for lunch today.  What do you wonder?  What do you no longer wonder about because you found some context to that wondering and now you wonder about something else?  It’s all fascinating to me.  There’s a reason we wonder, of course.  We wonder because we don’t have all of the answers.  The way in which you see the world can’t resolve every matter, every issue, every concern, every problem, every curiosity.  You grow and change and have experiences and the frame of reference shifts.  Some things resolve.  Other things lead to new and greater, or different, wonderings. You may have grown up terrified of going to the dentist.  Now you drive yourself!  Your frame of reference has changed.  We are going to spend the next five weeks in wonderland.  We’re going to consider some of the deepest things we wonder about, some of the greatest mysteries of our lives, and see if we can’t find a way of claiming wonder as a gift of God.  Today – we’re considering wonder as the window through which we see the world.

Every single one of us in this place has a frame of reference that helps us make decisions about life that make sense to us. Some of us are very aware of this and realize not everyone else sees life through the same lens. Some people call this marriage (just kidding). Others of us are less aware of this reality and assume everyone sees life just the same as us.  Some of us may not be able to define all that well what our framework is but we all have one. You’ve got a window through which you see the world to determine what is just or unjust, important or unimportant.  It’s how you determine your beliefs and behaviors (actually probably not how you always behave but how you think you should behave).  Much of this is inherited. My parents are in the house today – love ‘em to death.  Without even being able to pinpoint each and every moment, I am confident that my frame of reference stems strongly from the picture window my parents sat me in as a child so I could see the world from a particular vantage point.  It’s why I love the Kansas City Royals and singing harmony with my mom as a kid, holding one hymnal for the two of us to share. It’s why I see race and diversity and all people as beautiful and loved by God. They presented a set of values to me, one of which was the value of discovering and understanding what I value on my own – not accepting a value just because.  I value that greatly and it changes the way I see the world. You have a framework too.  Maybe it included church.  Maybe you were one of those Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night kind of church goer.  Maybe you were a Chreaster (a Christmas/Easter kind of person).  Maybe you were not religious at all or have experience practicing other faiths.  Maybe you were poor or wealthy.  Maybe you moved a lot or maybe you still live in the house you grew up in.  Maybe your framework through which you wonder the world is scientific or mostly academic.  Maybe it’s moralistic or a legalistic framework. Maybe your personality (my enneagram people in the house!) most shapes the way you see the world.  It all funnels into our vision of things, and in turn, shapes the things we spend our time wondering about.

Occasionally… this frame of reference comes up short.  We might even say it fails us.  This happens all of the time, all over the place.  Just look at the Steady State Model of the universe.[2]  The universe just exists… always has… just a matter of well, matter.  Einstein was in on this idea.  But it did cause scientists to wonder because they knew you couldn’t have an infinite actual.  There can be infinite potential but not an infinite actual.  There can’t be infinite moments or infinite things – only infinite potential.  So when my kids say infinity, plus one – it doesn’t all gel.  Edwin Hubble was on this and in 1929 discovered galaxies are speeding away from each other at enormous speeds and they’re all doing so at a trajectory that originated in the same place.  This was a framework game-changer for scientists.  Hubble even loaded up Einstein in his own car or moped or Harley or skateboard or whatever he drove and took him to the observatory to see it for himself.  This brought about the Big Bang theory, a sitcom starring Edwin Hubble and Albert Einstein.  For real though, this blew Albert’s mind and suddenly – a new frame of reference.  New set of things to think about, to wonder about.  Do you know this struggle?  The thing that keeps you up wondering at night?  You read something that has you wondering.  You heard something.  Somethings got you stuck.  This continually changes things for you.  And this reality will call for some sacrifice.  However you see the world calls for some sacrifice.  You decide to see certain things, you’ll give up some others to make that work… until, perhaps, it doesn’t.

I heard pastor Andy Stanley say something quite clear and to the point about this framework stuff, shaped a lot of my thoughts for today actually. He said, “There may be a fatal flaw to your current frame of reference.  It might be you.”  He says, “What do you know?  What do I know?  What do we know?” He talks about how the seasons and experiences of our lives change us.  “Is it possible, then,” he says, “that our view is incorrect?”[3] Just think about it.  You were sure she was the one… he was the one… but now you’re looking for a way out.  Or that thing… you had to have it, gotta have it. Now you’re wishing you didn’t invest in it one bit.  Or that event you just had to go to. Now wish you hadn’t gone.  What do we know?  My ability… and your ability… to interpret the events of the world is limited.  So our framework shifts… but it may also feel like, then, there is nothing left to ground us.

Enter Jesus. Now I’m not trying to get all cliché in the house today. We’ve already been through the whole story about the answer in the church is always Jesus, right?  The kid who says to her pastor, “I know the answer you’re looking for is supposed to be Jesus but it sure sounds like a squirrel to me!”  What I am saying is far from, just say “Jesus” and that settles it. No. It’s not what I’m saying here.  In part, because even when I say, “Jesus,” you have this whole framework that you’ve created to see Jesus.  The church of your youth or the way someone threatened you with a couple of bible verses or a beating you received mentally, verbally, theologically or otherwise by someone or someone(s) in authority who said Jesus told them to do that to you.  I wonder if you could strip all of those pretenses away for a moment – let go of the dogma you learned to recite from a particular denomination, release the political-version of faith that you feel obligated to side with… and home in specifically on the person of Jesus. Could Jesus be a grounding reference for the framework through which you see the world?  Of any religious idea, any faith, any person, any concept or theory or otherwise – what I experience in the pieces I put together of the person of Jesus revealed in Scripture is the single most grounding force in my life.

The Hebrew writer gives a word today that I put forth for our consideration. We considered a different passage from Hebrews last Sunday on Sunday Funday. Today’s just Plain-ol’-not-as-Funday, I suppose, but the word is just as powerful.  We don’t know who to credit with the writing of this letter to these Hebrew people but I’m so thankful we have this letter to give us some perspective. This writer sends word to a Jewish audience who has accepted Jesus as the one their people have always been waiting for… the Messiah.  Can you just imagine the framework change these people have made?  Very few of us have made such a shift in our thinking in our lifetimes.  It’s not an easy thing to do.  They were acknowledging that in their very lifetime, a flesh and blood human fulfilled the prophecies generations had awaited.  Imagine today – someone you see on Social Media, someone you heard speak at a conference, someone you worked with on a project to address poverty.  Yep. That person is the Messiah.  Can you imagine?  But the Hebrews are finding the weight of such a framework change to be too much.  It’s sort of like being really excited about the new diet but three months into it, you’re getting tired of Kale and you’re contemplating going back to the old diet. This writer says, “Whoa, guys, don’t walk away from this new framework. We have this great high priest that knows what it’s like to see the world from our side of window.” Nobody had claimed such before when it came to the Divine.

And this was a time well before the Bible had come into existence.  It was before groups had created lists of rules and procedures and had Sunday Fundays.  The people had just experienced the person of Jesus, his death and resurrection and knew that their frame of reference, their view of the world, could not be the same as it was.  Stanley said it well.  He said, “God sent someone to our side of the frame to be a point of reference.” This original framework of Christ didn’t require you giving up wonder – in fact it was an embracing of it. Jesus never attempted to create robot followers.  He could have come with his own list of things and said, “Memorize this list and you’re golden.”  He never did that. I wonder why we are so fond of doing that?  He got in the thick of life with real people and built relationships. And that really frustrated the religious people – they wanted him to behave a certain way.  They wanted him to toe the party line. They wanted certainty on a matter or a question or a moral concern and Jesus would tell them a story and ask them to think on it themselves.  I think God must have surely been so curious about us, loved us so much, that he just had to see life through our eyes… and, in turn… I trust that God loves me all the more because, in Christ, he’s seen the pain I see. He’s struggled with relationships like we do.  He’s been bullied and judged and cast out and scapegoated unfairly.  And yet – the Hebrew writer says, “He’s been through it all and has handled it in a more perfect way.”  We’re not going to do it all perfectly.  But if I dig into an understanding of his interactions with people, his relationships, his demeanor, his humility, his inclusivity, his character, his sacrifices… I wonder how that might affect my choices and the way I see and treat people.  I wonder if that may help me live toward a more perfect way too?

The Advent hymn challenges us to wonder. “I wonder as I wander out under the sky how Jesus the Savior did come for to die for poor ordinary people like you and like I, I wonder as a wander…”  What a powerful hymn.  As far as I know, none of us in this room has ever witnessed a crucifixion or smelled one or experienced the aftermath of such an event but this Hebrew community had.  Don’t you wonder what that must have been like?  The writer says, “Don’t give up now on what we experienced in him.” Not the institution, not the organization, not the philosophy but this person sent by God to our side of the frame to become our frame of reference. It was a way among all the mysteries of the universe that we could know where we stood with the Creator of it all.  Above all else, they were loved.  And so are we.  The writer of Hebrews says to a confused and weary people… “Hey… just consider him.  Just reconsider Jesus.” Think of his teaching, not necessarily what you’ve been taught by others. I think much of the time that we’ve grown weary with religion or faith or church is because we’ve been considering everything else but him. We wander from faith perhaps because our frame of reference is circumstantial based faith – which will not survive the pleasures or pressures of life. When the diagnosis is bad, it doesn’t hold. When the relationship cracks, circumstantial faith doesn’t hold. When we lose or hurt or struggle, the systems we’ve trusted may fail us. Faith can become inconvenient.  The Hebrew writer does not say, “Since everything is going well or working out or we have everything we need or because we’ve resolved all the mysteries of the universe, all of our wonders, all of our questions answered.” No. The writer says, “Consider Jesus.  Since we have Jesus. Since we have a Savior who is not distant from us.  Since we have a messiah who has been through it too...”  How would you see whatever you’re facing, whatever you’re wondering about, through his frame of reference?  What might that change for you?

If you’ve lost the wonder, could you consider it again?  Google has sort of ended some of the wonder we used to let linger, hasn’t it? At staff meeting we were talking about this and one of our team said how much he enjoyed debating mysteries as a kid – could hold on for hours to the fun of the back and forth about the possibilities of being right or wrong.  Now, at the first sign of uncertainty, we go to the Googles to find the answer. I think it all builds up our idea that certainty is readily available and the work and depth and beauty of relationships – with God and each other – is something we’ve decided is just too much. Maybe you haven’t even realized you’ve given up on wonder yet.  I read a word from Mike Yaconneli this week who said, “It took me fifty years to realize I was lost.  No one knew I was lost – my life had all the trappings of found-ness.  I had succeeded at mimicking aliveness, but I was nearly dead.”[4]  When we lose the wonder, we tend to mimic aliveness.

Yaconneli, who is in the resurrection now, followed this quote with a story about his two-year-old nephew who stood in his living room about to be altered irrevocably.  It was night and he stood in front of the sliding glass door that opened to the deck, peering into his reflection because of the light that was on inside.  Little did he know; his daddy was about to turn out the inside light and turn on the light outside that would reveal the millions of snowflakes coming down at that very moment. It would be the toddlers first ever view of the phenomenon. The instant the lights switched, the boy’s eyes stretched wide with astonishment, as though the only way to apprehend what he was seeing was for his eyes to become big enough to contain it all. He stood motionless, paralyzed by the mystery he was taking in.  He stepped out to feel it for the first time.  He twitched and jerked each time a snowflake landed on his face.  Just behind his large eyes you could see sparks flying from the crosscurrents of millions of electric stimuli overwhelming the circuit breakers of his previously small world.  His mind was a confusion of strange, conflicting realities:  white, cold, floating, flying, tingling, electric, landing, touching, sparkling, melting – causing an overload so great, so overwhelming, he fell backward – a slow-motion landing in the billowy whiteness, the snow tenderly embracing him.  He had given up trying to understand snow and had given in to experiencing snow.  It was a moment of wonder.

Whether you’re two or 115 years and 210 days, wonder remains a gift to behold. If you’ve let it go, reconsider it.  If you’ve allowed your faith to become a rigid, dull, list of ideas instead of the dynamic relationship it can be, come back to the wonder for in Christ, we do not know a God who cannot understand our human struggles.  We have a God who’s been there, done that; seen it, felt it, cried through it, argued about it, laughed about it, served in spite of it, and who says, “Follow me – I’ll help you see it with new eyes.”  We have a God who wonders with us what kind of world we could create if we could give up trying to fully understand our faith, having it all ironed out and punishable by citing article numbers and doctrines.  Instead, maybe we give into experiencing Christ in the fullness of relationship and discover what wonder it truly holds.

Footnotes:

[1] http://gerontology.wikia.com/wiki/Kane_Tanaka

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steady_state_model

[3] Andy Stanley is the founding pastor of North Point church in the Atlanta area.  http://northpoint.org/.  His message “Center of the Universe” significantly influenced this sermon in multiple places and inspired the creation of our larger series, “Wonder.”

[4] This quote and the following story are from Yaconelli’s work, “Dangerous Wonder.”  NavPress. 1998.

What would it take for a skeptical culture’s view of Christianity to see our faith as good? While
we aren’t aiming to please an audience beyond God alone, Jesus practiced a faith more interested
in reconciliation than keeping a list of the sins of others. What does that reconciliation look like
today? It surely includes a good faith effort on our part.

Opening: “Beautiful Things” (Gungor) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

Reader: Roy Peters

Preaching: Rev. Mark Briley

Meditation Music: “Holy Medley” (Arr. Sawyer & Ford) :: Kelly Ford, soloist; Billie Kay Sawyer, pianist

Communion: “Brokenness Aside” (All Sons & Daughters) :: The Rising Band; Katie Herbert, soloist

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

¹⁶ From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. ¹⁷ So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! ¹⁸ All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; ¹⁹ that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. ²⁰ So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. ²¹ For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

 They were five complete strangers, high school students with seemingly nothing in common, forced to spend a Saturday together in detention:  a brain, a beauty, a jock, a rebel, and a recluse or so the labels go. Before the day was over, they broke the rules, bared their souls, and connected with each other in a way they never dreamed possible.  Can anyone name the film I’m describing here?  In 1985, The Breakfast Club [Breakfast Club Slide] became an emblematic film for an entire generation, ripping off the Band-Aids of the familiar wounds of family strife, teenage angst, peer pressure, and hurtful stereotypes, all exposing our growing sense of alienation from each other, from those in authority, and even from ourselves.

Brian, one of the kids detained, offers this key word to Vice Principal Vernon, the main antagonist in the film: “Dear Mr. Vernon… We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us… in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Correct?  That’s the way we saw each other at seven o’clock this morning. We were brainwashed.”

“In a culture that prizes social categories, individualism, competition, sexism, stereotypes, and widespread alienation, the church is called to an alternative consciousness that makes reconciliation with our neighbors, even ourselves, and certainly with God, our highest priority and the litmus test of our confession. Taking our cue from a God who, from the beginning of time, has sought to reconcile us to himself, and having been given a new commandment by Jesus to ‘love one another as I have loved you,’ Christians are obligated to take the initiative in demonstrable acts of neighborliness and reconciliation in the world.”[1] Rev. Mark Feldmeir, a Methodist pastor in the Denver area, offered those words that stopped me in my tracks as I was contemplating this notion of a Good Faith Effort.  For the last two weeks, we’ve opened before God in this space the research of The Barna Group that suggests the influence of we who claim to be Christian is fading quickly; with some 85% of those outside of the church finding the Christians they know to be hypocritical and roughly the same saying the Christians they know are judgmental.  Something different is possible my friends – and I know it because I know you.  The beautiful roar that comes when you greet each other.  The passion by which you rise to the challenge when there is a need.  The generosity of your time and skill and resource to say, “Yes, we’re writing a different story than one of judgment and hate,” tells me we’re after a Way of life together that I see in the Jesus of the Gospel accounts.  And who is that Jesus?  Paul tells us today, in this letter he sends to Corinth, that Jesus is one who says, “If we get relationships wrong, little else matters.”  So how do we get relationships right?  That’s what we’re after today with this final installment of our Good Faith[2] Effort series which I’ve subtitled, “Triumph.”

Now – I’ve struggle with this word, Triumph.  It played nicely in the alliteration of the series:  Week One: Trying.  Week Two: Tripping.  Week Three: Triumph!  You’ve got to end the series on a victorious note, right?  But maybe that’s too optimistic – a little Pollyanna-ish.  After all, you got dressed to come to church today to wrestle with the big stuff that’s happening in your life — the loss that remains too tough to speak; the health scare that you haven’t recovered from just yet; your struggle with apathy or the curiosity if any of this even matters at all. You know what I’m talking about – that thing that you woke up thinking about this morning and that you can’t seem to shake right now.  And I want to talk about Triumph, eh?  It is just a title, okay? Let’s not give it too much power.  And I’ve had this trouble before.  Do you ever spend a couple of minutes writing a very casual email and then sweat the next fifteen minutes trying to decide how to best word the subject line?  What do you call the impact of a Good Faith Effort?  What do you call getting relationships right?  What do you call the work of reconciliation? Well, at least for today, we’re calling it Triumph.

I love this passage from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians.  It’s so full of bumper sticker material.  We once knew Jesus from a human point of view – just a causal relationship; sort of like you have with your barber or something, but now… now that our spirit has come alive, now that we’re not just going through the motions of life but we’re listening to the soul, we see Christ in a new way. And because we do, Paul says, “We are now a whole new creation” which is great because my back still hasn’t recovered from my dunking efforts at the trampoline park a week ago.  I need some newness, don’t you?  Paul says, “You new, man!” And that’s worth saying out loud.  Would you turn to a neighbor and say, “You new!” Yeah you are! But the triumph we’re getting at today is found in this motif that Paul sets off next about the idea of reconciliation.  He knows what pop song writers have come to learn today – the power of what is called processing fluency.[3] In this next little run he says, “Reconciled … reconciliation … reconciling … reconciliation … be reconciled.”  All in two sentences.  How could one forget the focus here? Researchers discovered this to be true about those songs you get stuck in your head – ear worms as they’re called. Scientists have studied what makes songs so viral and addictive.  Some studies point to the power of background singers or high pitches. One study attempted to link the popularity of these songs to our gross domestic product. But the most recent findings keep falling back to the repetition of a simple hook.  It’s why you’re still singing, “It’s a Small World After All” or “Who let the dogs out. Woof, woof, woof, woof.” Some advice – apparently chewing gum while listening to these songs helps eliminate them getting stuck in your brain. I’ve also heard that singing “We are the World” cancels out whatever other song you’ve got stuck in your head.  But here is Paul, ahead of his time in employing processing fluency with the Corinth Christians.  “All this [this new creation stuff] is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself … and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us… so that on behalf of Christ, I implore you, be reconciled to God.”

Reconciliation is a curious word.  We may lump it in with ideas like forgiveness and simply “getting along” or “playing nice” and while those ideas may all be invited to the same family reunion, reconciliation is something more. The original language of Paul’s letter uses this word from the financial realm – the ways in which we might talk about reconciling bank statements. Paul used that sort of imagery often: think of when he spoke of the ransom of Christ or Jesus counting the cost; paying the price.  But this reconciliation – how do we make sure that what is supposed to be is in check with reality?  If our relationships are to be at this [high] level but they’re holding steady at this [low] level, then how do we reconcile the difference, the gap between the two. If reconciliation is making it right between me and God and others, then how do we reconcile that gap? It surely starts with repentance. It’s not all about the other person – all about their issue or their personality or their attitude.  They’ve got their part but a one-sided correction is, by definition, not inclusive of the idea of reconciliation. It’s the line I’ve shared before – “If you run into more than a couple of jerks in one day, you may be the jerk.” One of my colleagues says, “There is a direct correlation between how much patience you need to deal with people and the patience people need to deal with you.”  He said, “I’ve found I must repent my way into patience.” (Rev. Geoff Mitchell). And so do I. It’s terribly hard to be in relationship with someone who is always right. There tends to be zero mutuality in such a relationship – no intimacy, no vulnerability, no growth. And for those in the house today who are always right, you’re thinking, “What does this guy know?” Not a whole lot, I admit. But I have seen the whittling away of friendships when people choose being right over relationship. And I’ll also admit, choosing relationship over rightness can often only come with the strength of faith and the power of Christ in us to reconcile and rise above our differences.

Rev. Mark Feldmeir is a writer and pastor I just happened to stumble across in seminary.  He had compiled a book of some sermons he had written that was on discount in the seminary book store and I picked it up.  Super influential in my own development of the practice of preaching.  I went to his church while on sabbatical a few years ago and enjoyed getting to meet him and engage him a bit. He tells a story from his own experience that has stuck with me, particularly as we exist in this season of side-taking, back-biting, and group-hating.  It was a time a few years back when he found himself torn over an issue in the church that was dividing churches right and left.  It was an issue that, for some, can only be resolved by reading selected passages from the Bible, especially the Old Testament; for others, it’s an issue resolved only by practicing the uncompromising and indiscriminate love of Jesus.  Listen to what he writes about this moment: “One particular family in the church was alone in their choice of the former method of resolving the issue, and the prospect of losing them became a growing concern for me.  They called one afternoon to set an appointment with me to discuss their options, and I spent the next three days praying for peace, and grace, and understanding.  I’m embarrassed to say that I also found myself reaching for whatever armor I could find, preparing for a painful confrontation, drawing a line in the sand and rereading every Bible passage I could find on the issue, which turned out to be a brief exercise.  On the afternoon of our scheduled appointment, I waited, and prayed, and contemplated the seemingly inevitable outcome.  At three o’clock they walked into my office – she carrying a five-gallon bucket of water; he, a small hand towel.  Before I could rise from my chair, she knelt down on both knees, and removing my shoes and socks, washed my feet in the warm, fragrant water – first the right foot, then the left, slowly, generously, with great care.  He followed with the towel, quietly drying both heels and all ten toes, one at a time.  Then, rising to their feet, they turned for the door without saying a single word.  When I saw them sitting in the second row of the sanctuary the following Sunday morning, and every Sunday morning thereafter, I caught a glimpse of the grace and courage that [reconciliation] requires.”

Have you ever humbled yourself in that way?  Truly incredible. That surely is what triumph looks like.  And without our faith in Christ that elevates our concern for others, not settling for a self-preservation mentality, I’m not sure how we could do it.  I’m not sure why we would bother with the struggle. This is a spirit that would help us not only in our closest relationships but certainly in our relationships with the world – the very culture that looks at us feeling judged, unwanted, de-valued, and cast off.  It’s a move from a selfish faith to a communal one.  One man put it like this: “I no longer believe God is working behind the scenes to make me powerful, rich, or famous. Instead, I think I’m supposed to contribute something to the people around me and create an environment where healthy relationships can flourish.” This is the ministry of reconciliation and if we are to take that seriously – like a spiritual earworm that we just can’t shake—we’re going to have to get out more – outside, into the neighborhood, into the realms beyond our three-point areas of comfort (home, work, and Andy’s frozen custard). Chris Heuertz[4] (which is just a fun name to say) describes himself as a “contemplative activist, ecclesial provocateur, curator of unlikely friendships, instigator for good, witness to hope, and clergy for common people.” Doesn’t fit great on a business card but it does say a lot about what he values.  Chris felt this call to get out more – reconciliation as ministry wasn’t a stay-at-home sort of calling. While we can do this work by only driving a few miles perhaps, Chris went to India where he was mentored by Mother Teresa for three years. This changed him as you can imagine and he’s been here in the States since that time working to reconcile people to each other and to God. In the midst of recent racial tensions across our country, he was part of a diverse contingent called to gather in Nashville to imagine how they might play a role in bringing people together. He believes that the racialization of our daily reality leads to a deep poverty of friendships.  At this gathering, Chris challenged everyone to take a look at the last ten text messages and phone calls on their phones. He said, “If you’re a twentysomething Protestant black woman or a fifty something straight white man, most of the calls or texts you send and receive are to and from people who look like you, think like you, live like you, worship like you.”  This lack of what Chris calls “textured diversity” keeps us poor in friendship and keeps us believing there is an us and them rather than a we.  He quoted his mentor, Mother Teresa, who used to say, “We need the poor more than the poor need us.”  Chris wrestled for many years to understand what she meant by those words.  He now believes that it’s only through relationships with the Other – who he named as “the poor, the gay, the Catholic or charismatic, the black or white or brown” – that we can become the we Christ intends the church to be.  “We need ‘them’ if we want to be a signpost pointing to the new creation. When we form and cultivate friendship with the other, the we of the church becomes a tangible, visible sign of the kingdom of God.”  Do you think that’s true?  Is that why reconciliation isn’t a “Ya’ll just get along” but an ongoing ministry of care for all people?  [Quote Slide] I was fascinated by Barna’s research that says 83% of Americans say it is “completely accurate” that they do NOT enjoy spending time with people who are not like themselves. At the same time, 75% of American adults believe that “Christian churches play an important role in racial reconciliation.”

This is why Rick Warren, pastor of Saddleback Church, one of the largest evangelical congregations in the nation, has made reconciliation a top priority. Every year, members of Saddleback participate in a Christian-Muslim picnic, building bridges of relationship. They partner with African-American congregations in the city of Compton, California. Bridges are being built with Hispanic pastors in Southern California, and work is being done to keep young people out of gangs and in school.  Many wouldn’t imagine Saddleback, a church pegged, perhaps, to have greater concern for personal salvation, making this communal effort of reconciliation a priority. But… this is what the alternative consciousness calls us to as people who follow Jesus. It’s one reason you may want to stretch yourself and get engaged in our new Family Promise partnership where we will house homeless families in our church for a few weeks each year.  Our first week will be at the end of September with a mandatory training for any who will volunteer on Thursday, September 6. Feeling stuck in faith, in life, in relationships?  Want to be a new creation?  Give this a try. Do something different. This is the triumph of reconciliation.  “If we get relationships wrong, little else matters.”

Our world is full of Vice Principal Vernon’s who think they already have us pegged – stereotyped as hypocrites, judgers, haters, detached, superficial. They see us like they see Professional Wrestling – there’s a lot of grunting and sweating and chair smashing but they’re not sure all the moves are real. May our moves be real, authentic, grounded in the desire to reconcile our soul to its Source and all the beloved of God to each other.  If that’s what triumph looks like, then I’m glad it’s the subtitle to close our Good Faith Effort series.  Triumph.  I just may put that in the subject line of every single email this week.

Footnotes:

[1] From Stirred Not Shaken by Mark Feldmeir. Chalice Press. 2005.  Pg 115-116.  The later story about his congregants washing his feet also comes from this work; Pg 97-98.

[2] All statistics and references in this message to the Barna Research come from “Good Faith” by David Kinnaman & Gabe Lyons. Baker Books. Grand Rapids, MI. 2016.

[3] The info about processing fluency as well as the later story about Saddleback Church come from the work “Song of Reconciliation” by Bob Kaylor, Senior Writer of Homiletics and Senior Minister of the Park City United Methodist Church in Park City, Utah.

[4] http://chrisheuertz.com/.  The story here actually comes from the “Good Faith” source listed previously. This site, however, gives fuller insight into the work of Chris Heuertz.

There is a growing sense that many Christians - and believers in other faith traditions - are feeling overwhelmed, sidelined, and misunderstood. It's more than a feeling. For increasing millions of people in the wider culture, Christianity feels like a long list of rules that matter to someone else. With a world that perceives Christians as irrelevant and extreme, we wonder about the future of the Church and how faith can be a force for good in society. Perhaps it begins with a good faith effort on our part to flip the script on the cultural perception. Join us for this three-part series entitled, good /fāTH/ effort with this Sunday's message Trying. (Mark 9:38-41)

Opening: “Glorious Day” (Kristian Stanfill) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

Reader: Hollie Hawkins

Preaching: Mark Briley

Special Music: “Greater” (MercyMe) :: The Rising Band; Isaac Herbert, leader

Offertory: “How Can I Keep From Singing” (Robert Lowry) :: Todd Maxwell, soloist; Billie Kay Sawyer, pianist

The term ‘helicopter parent” was first used in 1969 by Dr. Haim Ginott to describe parents who would hover over their teenagers like a helicopter. These were parents who took an overprotective or excessive interest in the life of their children.  Helicopter parent, however, didn’t make the dictionary until 2011 and some would argue the reality is just now coming fully into its own in this generation of parenting. Some of us may be helicopter parents whether proudly or without even realizing it.  Dr. Carolyn Daitch, who wrote the book, Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box, calls it over-parenting. “It means being involved in a child’s life in a way that is over-controlling, over-protecting, and over-perfecting in a way that is in excess of responsible parenting.”  She notes four common triggers that create helicopter parents.  Fear of dire consequences – their kid not making the team, not getting the job, failing a test and then what?  Feelings of anxiety.  In a tough economy or job market, parents rush in to take control of their kids options.  These friends. That extracurricular. That college. Overcompensation. This is that parent attempting to live vicariously through their child’s success at sports or some other activity the parents felt they lacked in their own upbringing.  Peer pressure from other parents. Trying to keep up with suburban soccer mom extraordinaire who seems to have her kids involved and excelling at everything and fluently speaking three languages by the age of eight while you can’t seem to get your kid to school before the second bell rings.[1]  Do you know a helicopter parent?  I’m sure I’ve done some of that.  We just want our kids to get it right, right?

Enter the free range parents. The free-range parenting style gives kids free roaming rights to figure out much of life for themselves.  Discover their own problem-solving abilities… learn through their mistakes, not protect them from making any. “Let the kid burn their hand on the stove,” they say.  “He’ll only do it once!”  It was this spirit that brought about Adventure Playgrounds, a European concept that was popularized after World War II when people realized their kids were playing in bombed-out lots with whatever shards of materials they could find. These playgrounds are full of stuff that may be lying around your garage – boxes, nails, saws, old tires, wood scraps, and stuff many might consider junk.  And the best part – at least for the kids – no parents allowed.  Parents are fenced out while little Jimmy runs free with rusty scissors.  There are some trained, designated, adult play-ers in these areas but they mostly stay totally hands off. Popularity in the States is taking off in part to the response of everyone’s concerns about screen time and technology addictions.  Helicopter parents are said to respond to that concern with more extracurricular activities for their kids.  Free range advocates say it’s the free play where kids are developing the best skills needed to navigate the world well and truly learn what they are capable of instead of simply having a parent or society as a whole prepare everything for them.  Mike Lanza, a researcher and supporter of these new parks says, “What strikes me is that there is this extraordinary level of anxiety. Parents don’t have fundamental faith in their offspring.” Another of the recent organizers behind an Adventure Playground in New York City said one of the most important pieces of these parent-free zones is that it is democratic space for children. “It’s a space that should involve all kids; a place where they can be next to one another, inventing culture and transforming it.  They’re making a new world.”[2]  They’re making a new world!

What do you think?  Do you hover over your kids with wipes in one hand, organic applesauce in the other, saying “No, no!” more than anything else or do you give your three-year-old a saw, turn her loose with dozens of other three-year old’s and go get yourself a pedicure? Life is hard isn’t it?  And we’re all trying.  We’re trying to learn from our mistakes, correct errors from our own upbringing, give space for others to flourish while not making such a mess of life that we can’t hold some semblance of it together. We’re giving life the proverbial “good faith effort.” And we mostly want that to be enough, right?  How often do you find the other shoe dropping and someone judgmentally saying to you, “Well you should’ve …”  Exasperated, all you can shout is “I’m trying!”  Good. Faith. Effort.  Everyone one of those three words is loaded in some way.  Each of us might look at them from slightly varied angles. We’re going to dive into the idea over the next three weeks as we start this new series today.  What is good faith?  What effort are we putting into faith itself?  What difference does it make? Why are we considering this?  Well… our overarching theme for 2018 surrounds the idea of Identity.  Who are we?  Who is God?  Who is my neighbor?  How do we make sense of those identities? Why does a Good Faith Effort matter?  Because our neighbors are wondering if there’s even such a thing as good faith.

Christopher Hitchens wrote a book a few years back entitled, “God is Not Great.” If it was written in the 80’s it would have been called, “God is Great. NOT!”  but Hitchens just wasn’t ready then. And … perhaps the market wasn’t there at that time. But now? It is one of the bestselling books of this century. It’s subtitle?  “Religion Poisons Everything.”  We can cast off the book’s popularity as no big thing but that doesn’t change the growing sense that many Christians – and believers in other faith traditions — are feeling overwhelmed, sidelined, and misunderstood. It’s more than a feeling.  The Barna Research Group suggests one-third of college-aged adults want nothing to do with religion and fifty-nine percent of Christian young adults drop out of church at some point in their twenties.[3]  For increasing millions of people in the wider culture, Christianity feels like a long list of rules that matter to someone else but make no real impact in their lives. With a world that perceives Christians as irrelevant and extreme – as helicopter-ish followers trying to correct everyone’s wrong action or beliefs to free-range faith-ers who have little care about what others do with faith, we wonder about the future of the Church and how faith can be a force for good in society. Can we flip that cultural script as a faith community?  That’s the question we’re carrying with us over the next three weeks.  Are you up for making a good faith … effort?

Mark, the Gospel writer, is our good faith effort partner this morning.  He gives us this little quip in a few short verses that are sandwiched between a very important motif of Jesus’ movement toward Jerusalem and ultimately the crucifixion.  The Disciples are walking along with Jesus and Jesus can tell they’ve been squabbling like three kids traveling to grandma’s house, squeezed in the backseat for four hours.  “Whatta you spattin’ about, boys?” Jesus asks. The silence was deafening.  But Jesus knew.  They’d been arguing about who was the favorite?  Who’s the GOAT – the greatest of all time?  Who’s the Disciple who would win the ESPY or MVP if Jesus was dolling out awards?  Jesus sits down with them and reads them the children’s book, “I Love You the Purplest.” Not really.  He say, “So you want first place?  Then take the last place.  Be the servant of all.”  They sit with that for a minute a bit dissatisfied before John speaks up. “Teacher, we saw a man using your name to expel demons and we stopped him because he wasn’t in our group.”  John’s head is still in that “Who’s the greatest?” conversation. “Yeah, yeah… I hear your servant talk but I’m kicking butt and taking names over here, Jesus, don’t you notice?”  So often, we’re not hearing what Jesus is saying to us because we’re so focused on our own agenda.  Sometimes we can even become disconnected from reality.  Just before last year’s magnificent total solar eclipse, someone in the Dallas Fort Worth area called the local news station to ask if the eclipse could be rescheduled because Monday wasn’t a good day for them.  Be a servant of all?  John’s not hearing that.  He’s more interested in being the Good Faith police. John’s being a helicopter Christian here.  We’re quick to jump on others, even, if not especially, other Christians, for not doing it right. It’s why the Barna Research Group was not surprised to discover that 85% of those outside of the church feel Christians are hypocritical.  And it’s hard to blame them, yes?  We’re all over each other about this doctrine and that idea and who should get in the church and who’s out.  One side points to the other and says they are hovering too much and the hoverers point to the free rangin’ Christians and say, “Well you don’t believe anything.”

We play favorites with scripture, with sins, and with people.  I love the story about three brothers who used to the go to the bar after work every day and have a beer together.  As time went on, they found themselves living in different cities.  To keep up their tradition, they went to a bar in their respective cities at five o’clock at least once a week on the same day.  They went alone but toasted to their brotherhood. One of the brothers would order three beers each time all at the same time.  The bartender thought it was a little odd and asked, “Why do you order all three at once?”  He told them about the ritual with his brothers.  “I drink one for me and one for each of my brothers.  This is how we stay connected,” he said.  One day, this same man looked sad as he pulled up a chair to the bar, only ordering two beers.  The bartender said, “Oh, man.  I’m so sorry for your loss.  What happened to your brother?”  “Oh,” the man replied, “my brothers are just fine.  I joined the Baptist church last Sunday and gave up drinking but my brothers have no problem with it.”  We have different standards for different people. And we don’t like people who don’t do faith the way we do it. John says, “Jesus, you should be proud of me… that guy who was trying to heal and help people in your name?  I shut him down.  Who does he think he is? Am I right? They don’t know you like we know you.  What’s worse?  You’ll never believe the style of worship they were having – rock music? Really?”

Jesus shuts him down.  “Don’t stop them, John.  They are trying.  And, they are meeting needs.”  William Barclay says that “Intolerance is a sign of both arrogance and ignorance, for it is a sign that a person believes that there is no truth beyond the truth he sees.”  I imagine Jesus saying, “John, the earth is round, right?”  And that would have totally blown his mind.  “What? Round? No.”  “Trust me, John.  It’s round.  And two people can get to the same destination by starting out in precisely opposite directions.”  Peter and the other disciples learn this again in the Book of Acts as they find the Holy Spirit active and at work in people they had previously written off.  “Who are we to keep them from being a part?” they asked.  I’m guessing that Jesus wasn’t only frustrated that John acted like he had it all figured out but also that there were much more pressing issues at hand… much more ultimately at stake than the petty things they were squabbling about; things we mostly choose to squabble about today.  Why do we fight about the details?  In the end, “We are,” what Ram Dass says, “just walking each other home.”

Because we are so quick to shut down others who don’t do faith like us, we miss out on some beautiful things in life… and the gift of growing with depth and diversity ourselves.  It’s among the reasons why such a growing percentage of our culture finds our faith irrelevant and impractical.  Barna’s research says that today, only 20% of adults in the United States strongly believe clergy are a credible source of wisdom and insight when it comes to the most important issues of our day.  This isn’t great for me or what I’m trying to do with my life.  It makes Christian leaders sort of like a smiling greeter at Walmart; we’ll point you in the right direction but after that, you’re really on your own.  “Despite the faults we Christians bring to our faith, Christianity practiced well helps people thrive and communities flourish.  Together, we want to discover how Christians can do good for and with people around us.” (Gabe Lyons).

Perhaps we need to work toward a good faith together; an iron sharpening iron sort of deal.  Maybe you need a little spark. Maybe your version of Christianity has gotten a little flat.  You know all the songs, things are fine, but there’s just no grit anymore.  Your passion has waned. You may need a little spiritual WD-40.  We’re quick to think of what we know and what we like and how our faith has become quite convenient for us.  But think of the vastness of God. The magnitude! The mystery! How small would God be if I already had it all already figured out?  John was feeling a little smug.  But Jesus seems to say to him and us, “Think of what you don’t know.”  Think of what is hanging in the balance based on whether or not you’ll take the next-level step in faith?  We don’t know what; we don’t know who…. We don’t know what relationship we will miss or what joy we’ll not have by saying “No” to the simple invitation to take a growth step forward.  If your faith has become a little boring… it’s not because God isn’t asking something new and exciting of us to consider and experience. Do you ever feel that thing in your gut?  You know, every once in a while, you may feel challenged to step out of your comfort zone but you don’t?  You feel prompted but you don’t?  What is the fear? Is it change?  Is it the possibility that God’s love is wider than you first suspected?  It’s easier for us to shut it down than it is to make room for that possibility and… as Jesus notes… we’re talking about the extraordinary kingdom of God stuff – don’t miss the big picture because you’re hung up on the details.  And don’t settle for a good enough faith, a convenient faith, when you can explore so much more.  I tell my kids before every ball game or practice or lesson or experience, “The only thing you can control is your effort.”  You can’t control your opponent.  You may strike out sometimes. You may miss the mark. You can’t control much but you can always control your effort… and only you know if you’re giving it your best.  This is not a plug for works righteousness. This isn’t about earning God’s favor.  But if you feel spiritually stuck or wondering why you’re not expanding your heart, mind, and soul… only you know if you’re really working at it… if you’re putting in the effort toward a good faith or if you’re just hoping it will happen to you, rub off on you if you get close enough to a praise song once or twice a month. “We’re trying!” right? Is there a sweet spot to this whole thing?

Are there clear boundaries to the good faith we’re after?  “I get it,” you may be thinking.  Don’t hover. Don’t blow the faith whistle every other second and be open to the work of Christ in others, even when it’s not our way.  “But I’m not ready for a free-range faith,” you might say.  What about conviction?  What about my interpretation of the biblical writer’s interpretation of faith?  What can I hold onto?  I want my church to have that rule; those people, not those, and use the King James Version of the Bible because we all know that was Jesus’ favorite.  I kid but honestly – how do we know what to keep and what to reject?  Jesus says let the wheat and weeds grow together but I’m standing here with a weed whacker and I’m ready to fire it up.  The question, I think, is not ultimately how we regulate how everyone practices the faith but to seek genuinely to know how we are known by our family, our friends, our neighbors… even strangers.

There’s an old eastern fable about a man who possessed a ring set with a beautiful opal.  Whoever wore the ring became incredibly sweet spirited with this beautiful, loving character that the community admired and appreciated greatly.  It was a charm, of sorts, passed down generationaly from father to son and it never failed to do its magical work.  As time went on, it came to a father who had three sons whom he loved equally.  Who would get the ring?  The father decided to have two other rings made precisely the same.  Nobody could tell which of the three was the original.  This caused great dispute with the sons because they all wanted the gifts of character that come with the magical ring.  They took the case before a wise judge who examined each ring closely before speaking.  He said, “I cannot tell which is the magic ring but you yourselves can prove it.”  The sons scoffed at the idea.  The judge said, “Oh yes. If the true ring gives sweetness and good character to the man who wears it, then I and all the other people in the city will know the man who possesses the true ring by the goodness of his life.  So, go on with your life… be kind, be truthful, be brave, be just in your dealings and he who does these things will be the owner of the true ring.”  The matter was to be proved by life itself.[4]  That opportunity is not left to fable but in the hearts and hands of you and me as we move back into our lives from this place yet this morning.

Someone will always try to write you off.  What will you prove in response through your day-in-day-out living?  The short poem says it quite well.

He drew a circle that shut me out – Rebel, heretic, thing to flout.

But love and I had the wit to win— We drew a circle that took him in.

What good faith effort will you make today? How will you flip the script on the cultural perception of Christianity?  Will you helicopter hover over those other Christians with whom you disagree?  Will you free-range faith-it to the extent that nobody even knows you’re a good-faith-effort Christian in the making?  Or will you prove with your life, moment to moment, that Christ forgives, Christ redeems, Christ transforms, Christ gives you the chalk to draw a bigger circle yet.  It seems that Adventure Playground quote I shared earlier may ring true in our life of faith as well.  Do you remember it?  I’ll share it with you again. “[This playground is] a space that should involve all kids; a place where they can be next to one another, inventing culture and transforming it. They’re making a new world.”[5]  In Christ, all things are made new. So, it seems, just like those kids on the playground, we’re making a new world too … .

Footnotes:

[1] https://www.parents.com/parenting/better-parenting/what-is-helicopter-parenting/

[2] From article, “Where the Wild Kids Are” by Katherine Martinelli. March 29, 2016

[3] The Barna Group, led by David Kinnaman, compiled research data as noted throughout this message.  Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons got together to write a book based on their findings entitled, “Good Faith: Being a Christian When Society Thinks You’re Irrelevant and Extreme.”  Baker Books. 2016.  This series, in part, is in response to this work.

[4] Fable as shared by William Barclay in his “Commentary on the The Gospel of Mark.”  Westminster Press. 1975. The short poem that follows also comes from this source.

[5] From article, “Where the Wild Kids Are” by Katherine Martinelli. March 29, 2016