“Table Grace” Luke 17:11-19, October 2, 2016, FPC Holt

“Table Grace”
Luke 17:11-19
October 2, 2016, First Presbyterian Church of Holt

Unclean! Unclean! No, this isn’t about the new parent plight of struggling to take a shower, rather it’s what these 10 men in our story today were required to shout when they got near to anyone, lest they expose others to this terrible and infectious disease. Unclean! Unclean! Each shout creating a boundary, putting oneself at a distance.

Often when I read the miracle stories I have trouble connecting them with our current reality. But this one? It’s a scene of divisions: racial divides, religious separations, and health as a barrier to relationship. There’s nothing foreign about those concepts in our world today. We know what lines drawn in the sand do to our understanding of “us” and “them.” We know what fear is capable of when used as a weapon to divide and denigrate.

What is unfamiliar, however, is the healing practices surrounding leprosy, and how that plays into the divisions in this story. We know it is an undesirable and contagious condition, but the disease had further implications in society. Social and religious convention of that time dictated that once leprosy was contracted those who had it were unclean, medically and ritually. The duality of their uncleanliness meant that even once they were healed medically, they needed to be healed ritually as well, with sacrifice and the priest’s blessing.

This story draws our attention to the Samaritan. He, like the other nine, is healed of his leprosy, but unlike the nine, his status as a foreigner means that even though he has received that same medical healing, he is unable to receive the ritual healing of the priest’s blessing. He comes to Jesus, and because he has been healed physically he is able to come close. His healing moves him from experiencing Jesus at a distance, to being able to truly know him face to face.

He is overcome with gratitude and Jesus says to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

Jesus draws his attention to the other nine, wondering why they don’t display such thankfulness. A big part of gratitude is acknowledging that there is actually something outside of yourself that is making things happen, improving your life in perceptible ways. If you believe that your health and wellness are solely your own doing, why would you express gratitude to one beyond yourself?

These nine were taking the steps they needed to take, like following through on a prescribed workout plan and diet. I guess one could see that as the upside to legalism. If things are so straightforward and dualistic: healthy and sick, broken and whole, and you believe that your move from one side of the coin to the other is determined by your actions, then you are indeed the one to be praised. Way to go, you! But the independence exercised by these nine, reveals an ignorance of God at work.

This tenth man saw things a bit differently. He didn’t fall within the bounds of Jewish culture, and therefore was not privy to the benefits of their legalism. When he experienced healing he knew it not as his own doing, but as an act of grace from God. In his great need, he was able to see his lack of control, and thus was more receptive to God at work in his healing.

Gratitude is fundamentally an acknowledgement of our limitations and a humble response to our interdependence.

In this recent season of life, welcoming sweet Calvin into the world, I’ve been surrounded by many moments of great need and humility. When you are in great need and have those needs met it can’t help but spur gratitude. So many of you saw me through many months of morning sickness, that was certainly not contained to the morning. Try as I might to find my own ways out of it, I instead was required to find ways through it, accepting the help of others, surrendering to my need for God’s presence.

In the midst of those first few days with Calvin, there were many opportunities to learn this lesson over and over again, through my inability to walk, climb stairs, or drive. I was utterly dependent on the help of others and on the peace and comfort God’s presence. Little by little I regained some semblance of health, but the interdependence in that time of utter need stayed with me.

As we sought to figure out this parenting business, so much was new and unfamiliar. In one specific instance I was trying to figure out how to sterilize bottles. What do you know, that very day we received a package from the Lloyds with another set of bottles and a steamer to help clean the bottles! The generosity was the Lloyds’, but the timing had to be God at work.

One of the first implicit lessons I was taught about faith was the importance of acknowledging need and interdependence through praying before eating a meal. In these prayers we were naming our need, naming the needs of others, naming our gifts, and thanking God for what we had.

UCC pastor, Rev. John Thomas reflects on how our gratitude shapes our prayers. He wrote, “Saying a prayer before meals quietly or with others acknowledges that my life depends on God’s bounty and on a host of people who grew, processed, distributed, prepared, and served the food that gives me nourishment and delight. Saying a prayer by a hospital bed admits that my health rests in God’s love as well as the skills of scientists and physicians and nurses and a host of people who maintain these places of care. And, yes, even sending a thank-you note… is far more than social convention, but an awareness that the best gifts and thus much of the joy of life are not things we can give ourselves but come from beyond us as an alluring expression of love, even an invitation to love. Each thank you becomes a way to practice gratitude so that more and more our lives are weaned away from the myth of entitlement and the arrogance and isolation of independence. Each thank you becomes a way to practice gratitude so that more and more our lives are shaped by the truth of our belonging to others, even to Christ.”

Today we have the opportunity to acknowledge the healing we’ve experienced through Christ and to draw near God in gratitude, coming to the communion table. In communion we are fed by the body and blood of Christ, a meal of unmerited favor, that is to say, grace.

Just as we are drawn close to Christ in this sacrament, we are also drawn close to Christ’s universal Church. When we come to the communion table we are all eating a common meal, bread and juice, but it is indicative of a much larger and more varied table. We come to this table in the midst of fellow Christians all over the world and all throughout time. At this table we offer up ourselves, our own ideas of how to be healthy and whole and good. We forgo our independence to be enveloped in the beauty of our interdependence, so that we may be brothers and sisters in Christ, so that we may fully partake in Christ’s grace.

Seminary professor of mine, Beverly Zink-Sawyer had this to say about the teaching enacted by the Samaritan, “It is his actions that are exemplary for us as a community of faith. Recognizing the healing that has occurred, he turns back to praise God and falls at Jesus’ feet in thanksgiving. The verbs “praise” (doxazo) and “thank” (eucharisto) echo references to worship frequently used by Luke and other New Testament writers. Luke seems to be connecting the practices that mark Christian worship with the restoration of health. We are reminded by the leper’s action that the ultimate place where we can cry out to God, receive mercy, and be transformed is the church, the place where we gather to offer our thanksgiving and praise.”

So as we are gathered today, in our worship, and most especially at this table of grace, may we remember that we are not our own, but we belong to one another and to God in blessed interdependence. May we respond with the utmost gratitude. Let all thanks be to God. Amen.

“Ibega ha Ibega: Shoulder to Shoulder”; Philippians 1:2-6; April 16, 2016, FPC Holt; Presbytery of Lake Michigan Presbyterian Women Spring Gathering

“Ibega ha Ibega: Shoulder to Shoulder”
Philippians 1:2-6
April 16, 2016, First Presbyterian Church of Holt
Presbytery of Lake Michigan Presbyterian Women Spring Gathering

When you think of missions what do you think of? Working to help the “less fortunate” of your community? Providing aid to someone in desperate need, who needs your particular help to make it through the day? Far too often when when we think of missions we think of being help to those people who are over there, casting our self in the role of helper, and the other in the role of helpless.

The goal of Agape Community Transformation (ACT) Uganda is not this top down type of support, but rather stands by their goal of: “Working shoulder-to-shoulder supporting self-development of villagers in Muko Sub-County, Uganda.”

Shoulder-to-Shoulder, or in Rukiga, Ibega ha Ibega, means that ACT is about relationship, being resources to one another, strengthening each other. It means that we don’t assume that we are the only ones offering something in this relationship, but rather it is an exchange of ideas, experiences, and hope.

Though he was instrumental in founding that church community, he places credit where it is due, acknowledging that God, not Paul is the one who enables good work among them. Paul is not their savior, but a co-laborer in building the kingdom of God. Paul prays for the people of Philippi with joy because of their “sharing in the gospel.”

In Greek, this word that we have translated as “sharing in” is “koinonia.” Koinonia has a rich depth of meanings including: partnership, participation, communication, communion, contribution, fellowship. It is in its very essence about mutuality, not being above or below, leading or following, but being shoulder-to-shoulder, ibega ha ibega. This koinania type of relationship is the way we are called to serve in missions, acknowledging one another as brothers and sisters in Christ.

Just this past week I read a quote in the PCUSA Mission Yearbook that I think typifies this well. In speaking of mission partnership a volunteer wrote, “We thought you came to give us something. Now we understand that you came to help us see what we already have and use what we have to find solutions to our problems”

This is the work that we are called to do, provide what we have to provide, but also fully understand that God is already at work in and among the people we are called to help. By acknowledging the many gifts of our partners in mission and “praying with joy,” as Paul did, we are better able to be full partners in serving God’s kingdom together. May we indeed ever strive to live Ibega ha Ibega with our brothers and sisters in Christ all over the world. Amen.

Sign Unveiling Litany

Since my own Googling of this sort of resource came up with nothing, I am posting this in the hopes it will be helpful to others. This is the litany from the unveiling of our new electronic sign at First Presbyterian Church of Holt:

Leader: Through covenantal rainbow and burning bush.

People: We see signs that God is with us.

Leader: Through pillar of cloud and manna in the wilderness.

People: We see signs that God is with us.

Leader: Through baptismal waters and communion feast.

People: We see signs that God is with us.

Leader: Through holy word and the light of Christ.

People: We see signs that God is with us.

Leader: In the community of Holt and the ministries of our church.

People: We see signs that God is with us.

Leader: May this new sign serve as a light to all who pass, letting them know that God is with us.

“Feast of Faith”; Luke 14:1, 7-14 and James 2:1-6; September 6, 2015; FPC Holt

“Feast of Faith”
Luke 14:1, 7-14 and James 2:1-6
September 6, 2015, First Presbyterian Church of Holt

Listen to the sermon here

I’d like you to imagine this scene, for some of you it might take thinking ahead to this upcoming week, for some it might take looking back a few decades: It’s the first day of school, you walk into the cafeteria and look around, try and gauge where your friends are sitting, or at least people who look like they might be friendly, and take your place. Why do you sit there? What happens when you can’t figure out your place? What would happen if you sat somewhere else? What happens if you sit with people who are higher up the social ladder than you see yourself to be? What happens if you sit with people who are lower down the social ladder than you see yourself to be?

Both of our scripture lessons today give us stories of seating arrangements.  In James we hear of seating arrangements as a form of judgment, “²For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, ³and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, ‘Have a seat here, please’, while to the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there’, or, ‘Sit at my feet’, ⁴have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?”

In the Gospel reading, Jesus offers this parable: 8″When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place’, and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you.” (Luke 14:8-11)

What would it mean for these ideologies to to play out in the cafeteria? For you to ignore the superficial markers that set people apart? For you to purposefully pick a less desirable table? For you to refuse to care about the social ladder? What would happen to your own standing? How would that impact the school year for you?

Particularly in high school these social orders can be quite apparent, but that doesn’t mean they disappear when we leave high school. It happens in workplaces and social gatherings and who invites who to a party and unfortunately, even in the work and worship of the church.

What does it look like to allow others to have a better place than you? What does it look like if on a Sunday morning you show up and someone has taken your seat? What if we sat somewhere else?

Jesus also questions who is invited to the table, challenging hosts to expand their guest lists: “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” (Luke 14: 12-14)

Luther College Professor, Rolf Jacobson had this to say about our scripture today, “In Urban Roman culture, patronage and the idea of status is everything. From how you’re dressed to how you present yourself there’s a clear demarcation of where you belong. So if you’re invited to a party it’s not like you’re going to look at all the chairs and say, ‘Hmm, I wonder where I’m going to sit.’ You know right away based on who you are and who everyone else in the room is, you just do. And to try to upset the balance of that threatens to shame you and shame your host… It sounds kind of weird to us and really calculating and maybe it was, but it’s just the way it works. So if you start to overturn that, and to mess with that and say ‘I’m going to invite people who could never ever pay me back or who could never return the political favor or the generosity or whatever,’ some people are going to start to get in their minds they don’t have to pay attention to those rules. So those who guard the social order, or those who are simply trying to find their way in the world soon find this is a dangerous thing. You don’t give hope to certain people. You don’t upset the balance… this isn’t just nice, that ruins the entire system for everybody else potentially… There’s an edge to this, there’s a threat to this depending upon how it’s carried out.”[1]

Changing the status quo threatens the powers that be and threatens the value of social currency. Inviting everyone to the table will absolutely change what sort of meal happens there, but it will also allow for a richness of diversity, a wealth of gifts, and a breadth of fellowship. Such a banquet may be chaotic, but it will be a life giving reflection of the Kingdom of God to come.

One winter, while I was in seminary we experienced our own sort of haphazard banquet. We were snowed in for several days right before Christmas break. Being here in Michigan, especially in the midst of a hot and humid couple of weeks it’s hard to imagine all of that snow or a community unable to deal with all of that snow, but that was how things went in Richmond, Virginia that December day. It hit Richmond late on a Saturday night and then of course the next day was Sunday morning, the morning most in the seminary community would spread out over Richmond, attending and leading worship throughout the 30 plus Presbyterian churches in the city. That morning, however, nearly every church had cancelled services.

And so, on that wintery December day we sent the word out that anyone who could get there would gather together for worship on campus. We put on our snow boots and walked across the quad to the campus chapel. Our service had a call to worship that was intended for a rural church 30 minutes outside the city, music from a praise bandleader who usually played in a suburban church, and a sermon from another church in the heart of Richmond. We cobbled together our prayers and praise and carefully prepared words and worshipped God in a very unusual sort of service.

Afterwards we gathered for a potluck. Since people had been getting reading to get out of town, each person’s cupboards were nearly bare. It was the strangest potluck I’ve ever attended. There was canned fruit and Ramen noodles, and macaroni and cheese. There was half of loaf of bread and half a jar of jam. Someone brought some hot chocolate packets. It was weird, but it was also wonderful, because though none of us had a lot of food, or even food that made much sense all together, we were all fed by the meal and nourished by the company. It was communion.

Preacher and teacher Sharron R. Blezard wrote this, “Serving God and neighbor is more like a community potluck than a gourmet meal in the finest restaurant. It’s less about perfection and more about improvisation. It’s less about form and more about function. It’s less about looks and much, much more about love. It’s has something to do with rubbing elbows with strangers and kin alike; after all, both can present challenges. Instead of a guest list carefully crafted to reflect our wishes and wiles, Jesus crafts a “grace list” that is an open invitation to the party. The point is this: At Jesus’ banquet table there is room for everyone. Great Aunt Mabel’s lime Jello salad can exist peacefully with vegan Valerie’s fresh green bean vinaigrette. Homemade mac and cheese can sit side-by-side with a bag of store-bought potato chips. Hamburgers and tamales and sno-cones co-exist and complement one another in delightful ways. When everyone brings his or her best offering, when we all show up, the banquet table groans with the goodness of God”[2]

Our congregation has had our own experience of this throughout this summer as we worship with our Wednesday night Open Cloister services. As we entered into our time of worship each week we would frame the service itself as it’s own sort of potluck, “a coming together of different flavors and recipes, with various levels of preparation, various histories behind the offerings of food and the offerings of spoken word and song.”

These services were tremendously life giving to me, because of the open format, they both challenged and enabled me to be fully attentive to the Holy Spirit, to get out of the way, as it were, and hear what God was saying to each person gathered together. It was a tremendous gift to get to know those who attended in that way, each of us daring to be open to God’s movement among us. There were times when we had no idea what to say, there are times when we had mostly desserts at our potluck beforehand. But at every service we were indeed fed in body and spirit. We brought what we had and it was enough.

This comic reflects the beauty of this radical kingdom banquet where all are invited. In this first picture the one sheep says “Jesus has good intentions, but really! what sort of party would you have if you just invited these down and out people.” And the other sheep says “uhh – you’d have the Eucharist, the offering of forgiveness and anticipation of heaven!” then the first sheep says “Huh! So Jesus does know how to party!”

When we come to the communion table we are all eating a common meal, bread and juice, but it is indicative of a much larger and more varied table. We come to this table in the midst of fellow Christians all over the world and all throughout time. At this table we offer up ourselves, our own ideas of who we think we should be, what we think we deserve. We forgo social conventions and pecking orders so that we may be brothers and sisters in Christ, so that we may fully partake in Christ’s grace.

At the communion table we celebrate the unconventional sacrifice of the ever-worthy Christ, for the perpetually unworthy sinners. We are fed and nurtured and renewed and valued in a way that has nothing to do with us, nothing to do with our own perceived worth, but has everything to do with the way God sees us and loves us and values us. We are an honored guest at this feast of God’s grace, not because of our bank balance, occupation, or social popularity, but entirely because of God’s love for us.

The message of the gospel is learning to see yourself as God sees you, learning to see that the systems of worldly standing don’t matter to God and your ability to break out of them isn’t the measure of who you are as a Christian, but it’s the way in which you actually can see the Gospel and can tangibly experience it in our presence.[3]

This is a table for the last, the lost, and the lonely. If you feel like you don’t belong, you’re in the exact right place. If you feel like you have fallen short, here you are more than enough. All of us and all of them, whoever the them of your life may be, are welcome to this table, and welcome to God’s larger kingdom. May it be so. Amen.

[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=432

[2] http://www.stewardshipoflife.org/2013/08/invited-and-inviting/

[3] http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=432

“The End?”; John 13:1-17; April 17, 2014, FPC Jesup

“The End?”
John 13:1-17
April 17, 2014, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup

I think that this scripture should begin with a spoiler alert. It tells us from the very start that Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world. Like when my Dad asked why I was going to see the Titanic when I already knew the boat was going to sink, we’re all gathered here tonight to hear this text again, draw close to the story of Jesus’ last days, last supper, so many lasts.

When we think of it, the whole ebb and flow of the liturgical calendar doesn’t hold much in the way of surprises either. At Christmas we expect to hear about Mary’s pregnancy announced by Angels, the trip to Bethlehem, and Jesus’ birth attended by animals and shepherds. When we get into this season of Lent we expect to hear about Jesus’ time in the wilderness, the company of the disciples, Palm Sunday, the last supper, the crucifixion, and without any hesitance or surprise, we greet Easter morning secure in the knowledge that Christ will indeed be risen, and the tomb will be empty.

Even though we know how it’s going to end, we are drawn into the narrative of Jesus and his disciples, gathered at the table. It’s a common scene. They’ve been traveling with each other for a while now, accompanying Jesus as he speaks to crowds, brings healing, shares loaves and fish, turns tables, and challenges the establishment.

And now at this common table, Jesus begins washing their feet. Peter is uncomfortable with this act. It seems so out of line that Jesus would be the one to wash their feet. When he resists Jesus says, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Peter balks at this and says “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Given the denials that are to come before the dawn, it seems like a bit of anticipatory guilt in the way Peter so heartily desires to be washed so that he might fully commune with Jesus. After he is done washing their feet he tells them that he has done this as an example to them, telling them that they will be blessed by the service they give to others.

It’s the end of the road for this band of followers, and Jesus knows that not one of them will last the night with their allegiance in check. Jesus being fully God knew every bit of what was to come, but also being fully human he was not immune to fear. Over the three years of Jesus’ ministry with his disciples he taught them a great many things and yet over and over again they showed through their actions that they didn’t quite get what was going on here. How could Jesus have full confidence that this band of misfits would carry his Good News into the entire world? But time was running out from what Jesus could teach them, and so he had to trust in the new beginning that would come from the ministry they had shared.

Roman Philosopher, Seneca is quoted as once saying, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” If you haven’t been studying Roman philosophy and that sounds familiar to you it might because it was quoted in the one hit wonder, “Closing Time,” by Semisonic. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

After this meal of service, this night of betrayal, and the day of horror to follow, a new beginning was coming: the beginning of a world no longer beholden to death’s power, the beginning of a time when the disciples would be tested to share all they had learned from their brief but intense time in the presence of God’s incarnation. With God no longer dwelling on earth in the person of Jesus, God’s dwelling would need to take root in all who would come to believe. God’s kingdom would need to be brought by these confused, sometimes fickle, human disciples. What a message of hope that is for us, thousands of years later as we seek to know, follow, and share Christ with others.

We’ve heard it all before, and so often times we stop really listening to what all of this means, and what it could possibly have to do with us, here and now. Though our story doesn’t change, our response to it can. Will we let these words wash over from our comfortable view on the sidelines of salvation? Or will we take Jesus’s actions to heart, using our place at the table to welcome others, to invite them to the cleansing healing that we’ve found in the company of Christ? May you invite the presence of God in this world to begin again through you, this Holy Thursday and always. Amen.

“Lamb of God” John 1:29-42 January 19, 2014, FPC Jesup

“Lamb of God”
John 1:29-42
January 19, 2014, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup

 “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!” this bold declaration of John the Baptist names Jesus, putting Jesus future right out in front of them: Jesus had come to die for their sins.

It draws to mind a long ago promise from father to son. In Genesis 22 we read:

“God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.”  He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.”  So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him.”

“Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.  When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son.  But the angel of the LORD called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.”  He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son.”

“God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.”

And here we are, with John’s declaration, “here is the lamb of God!”

The story has turned dark from the baptismal declaration of last week, and the pictures of a rosy-cheeked baby from our scripture passages less than a month ago. In this narrative we are confronted with the reality of who this Jesus is, what his mission will be here on earth, and by extension, what our response should be to God come to earth.

On the eve of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, it seems fitting to quote another influential African American theologian and civil rights leader, Howard Thurman. He wrote:

“When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with the flocks,
then the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal those broken in spirit,
to feed the hungry,
to release the oppressed,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among all peoples,
to make a little music with the heart…
And to radiate the Light of Christ,
every day, in every way, in all that we do and in all that we say.
Then the work of Christmas begins.”[1]

At stores all around Christmas displays have come down and depending where you are they might already be on to Valentine’s Day or St. Patrick’s Day, but here in the church you will notice by our paraments here on the pulpit, lectern, and communion table, we are still in the season after Epiphany. This is the season that celebrates the birth of Jesus, the manifestation of God come to earth. In the liturgical calendar of the church we are still being drawn into this mystery, drawn into the hope and promise of what it means for God to be in human form among us.

At Jesus’ birth there was a great gathering at the manger, all were drawn to experience Christ for themselves. This was more than just a birthday party for a baby, this was people drawn in to experience God, come to earth, come to human form, come to us.

In our scripture today, when Jesus is questioned about where he is going his answer is “come and see.” “Come and see,” is a call to have your own experience of the Christ.

“What are you looking for?” Jesus asks of his disciples following him. I would ask the same of you today. What are you looking for: what peace, what reconciliation, what answers? Might they be found in the pursuit of Jesus?

How do we respond to Jesus come to earth? How do we respond to this beautiful baby, this grown man, this lamb of God?

Might we be a bit more like John the Baptist? John the Baptist is a rather interesting character in scripture. He is the cousin of Jesus, son of Elizabeth, and somehow he finds himself out in the wilderness, compelled to point people to Jesus. He is described as a hairy, unclean man. Many artists’ portrayals of him are far form flattering, kind of a wilderness man of sorts.

And here this wild man comes into the scene saying, “Here is the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”

John would see sin not as a moral category of making decisions of right from wrong,  but as a separation from relationship with God. Jesus taking away our sin then, establishes relationship between the people and God. Jesus has become real among them, real in his physicality as a man, but also real in his capacity to be the messiah, the savior, the one who came before.

We read in John 1:2-14: “He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.  There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

Biblical Commentator Richard Swanson explains the significance of the “lamb of God” in this way: “The lamb is burned as a whole burnt offering, not for sin but simply for extravagant sacrifice, which puts the one who offers the sacrifice (of the future of his flock) in the position of having to rely completely on God. The lamb is the long-awaited son, provided by God as part of a promise long-delayed, who walks with his father, the two of them together, on the way to the slaughter of the son and of the promise.”

May we live into the promise of our salvation, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Savior, Messiah, and lamb of God. Amen.

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[1] http://www.pulpitfiction.us/2/post/2014/01/ep-46-who-invited-john-or-second-sunday-after-epiphany-a.html

“Do Not Be Weary in Doing What is Right;” 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; November 17, 2013; FPC Jesup

“Do Not Be Weary in Doing What is Right”
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
November 17, 2013, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup

Today we have the incredible blessing of being able to celebrate the two sacraments of the reformed church in one service: baptism and communion. It is an exciting thing to be united in the sacraments, coming to table and font together as the community of Christ.

The Directory for Worship the Presbyterian Church USA’s affirms that we celebrate both baptism and communion as sacraments because they were “instituted by God and commended by Christ.” and it says that “Sacraments are signs of the real presence and power of Christ in the Church, symbols of God’s action.” We affirm that,  “through the Sacraments, God seals believers in redemption, renews their identity as the people of God, and marks them for service.”[1]

What an incredible claim that is! We are sealed in redemption, renewed as people of God, and marked for service.

How does that impact you? Are you daunted by such a lofty connection and responsibility? Are you overwhelmed by the incredible scope of God’s goodness? Or once you’re brought into these sacraments do you feel like you’re off the hook? If your sins are forgiven and your life is redeemed through Christ, what do you have left to worry about in your own living?

The Thessalonians in our passage today were just beginning to learn how Christ’s promises played out in their lives, and what their response to God’s redemptive action should be.

We read in 2 Thessalonians 3:10-12, “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat. For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work. Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living.”

Our scripture today can be a controversial one, it’s message having been distorted throughout time in political arenas. This passage has been misconstrued to lift up a puritanical work ethic and to question social services such as welfare. But in the context of Paul writing to the Thessalonian community, that was not at all the case. Paul was not confronting people crushed by their socio-economic situation or those unable to find a job.

He was confronting people who, in response to God’s message of Christ’s second coming decided to stop working all together, and simply wait for Christ’s coming. They thought if Jesus is coming soon, any work that they were doing was pointless.

Paul is quick to correct them, pointing to work as a way to lessen the burdens of the community, a way that they can be fed to do the kingdom work they have been called to do.

Victor Pentz, a Presbyterian Pastor in Georgia related a story about a woman who was joining a church. When asked, “What do you do for a living?” she said, “I am a disciple of Jesus Christ secretly disguised as a legal secretary.” [2]

We are all called to await the second coming of Christ, but in the meantime, we are called to work. Working towards God’s kingdom in whatever way we make our living. Our calling in our baptism and through the communion feast is to be disciples of Jesus Christ. Our job provides a mission field and a way to be fed on earth even as we await the heavenly feast.

In verse thirteen we read, “Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.” Living with faithfulness even in the mundane aspects of our lives can be tiring, but it is part of our call as followers of Christ. Our day-to-day work can glorify God if we approach it with a right spirit.

Khalil Gibran was a Lebanese artist, poet, and writer who once wrote,

“And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart,
even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection,
even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy,
even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit.”[3]

Through prayerful attention to the work of our lives, we demonstrate our love for God and the blessings of God’s work and provision. We pray “give us this day our daily bread,” and then work alongside God to make that happen.

Today we will witness the baptism of Aria, Karsidee, and Amanda. They will take vows as followers of Christ, but this call is not for them alone. We are not to stand idly by, but we will also be called to make vows, “to help them know all that Christ commands, and by [our] fellowship, to strengthen their family ties with the household of God.” There is work for us to do in their lives as this community, as children of God. You are called to uplift these newly baptized as they navigate Christ’s plan for them. You are called to support and uplift them whether they be your family by blood or by being fellow members of the household of God.

May we embrace the call and the promises of our sacraments, being strengthened by this renewal and recommissioned to do the work to which you have been called. Amen.

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[1] Directory for Worship, W-1.3033, http://www.presbyterianmission.org/ministries/worship/sacraments/

[2] http://day1.org/552-take_this_job_and_love_it

[3] http://www.katsandogz.com/onwork.html

“Christ Alone,” Galatians 2:15-21; June 16, 2013, FPC Jesup

“Christ Alone”
Galatians 2:15-21
June 16, 2013, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup

As a Presbyterian pastor, some people find it strange that I do not personally have strong roots in the Presbyterian Church. When searching for a church, my family historically has picked churches based on the community found within the church. The church I’ve spent most of my life in, First Presbyterian Church of Maumee, was chosen by my parents because of the children’s programs it provided, as well as fellowship for my parents. I grew up in and into the Presbyterian Church. The Presbyterian tradition, confessions, customs, and processes shaped how I experience God and specifically, God’s call for my ministry. But here’s something shocking, I do not believe that we as Presbyterians have everything figured out. And here’s something even more shocking, I think that’s okay.

There’s a book that came out January of 2011 called “What’s the Least I Can Believe and Still Be a Christian.” I like the concept of this book, a getting back to the basics of our faith.

It is certainly not a new idea. When Martin Luther wrote up his famous 95 theses his main desire was to take the Christian faith back to the beginning, back to the core elemental beliefs that makes people Christians.

If we hold to the Presbyterian tenant of being “reformed and always being reformed according to the word of God,” these institution shaking ideas of going back to the basics should excite us. But of course there are things that we very much enjoy about our tradition. We like the stability of history, the comfort of the way we’ve always done things. There is nothing inherently wrong in any of these things. What becomes troublesome however is when we believe that we’ve got it all figured out and that these man made rules of how to go about being faithful are the one and only way.

Sometimes when I read Paul’s letters to all of those early Christian communities it sounds like he is simply giving them a talking to for a lot of things we don’t even do anymore. It’s tempting to read this simply as Paul scolding the Jews for their desire to maintain salvific legalism even after Jesus’ death and resurrection superseded the old law. Yes, that is in there, and I don’t know about you, but I’m under no temptation to return to all of the laws given in Leviticus. I have no desire to give up shellfish or cheeseburgers or try to figure out what fabrics I’m allowed to wear. And I’m not tempted to believe that any one of these practices will bring me closer to God, let alone will bring me salvation.

But that’s not the only legalism we’re dealing with. There are so many theological conventions, liturgical rituals, and sociological assertions that have developed over years and years of Christian faith, reformations, and denominational splits. In this cartoon it shows a membership class and the presenter has a chart that says “Churches and Christian Movements Throughout History.” The presenter says, “So this is where our movement came along and finally got the Bible right.” And one of the people in the class says, “Jesus is so lucky to have us.” While I value the history, wisdom, and community found in our denominational structure, the splintering of denominations throughout time points to the very religiosity that Paul railed against, saying, “But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God.” (Galatians 2:18-19) Paul tells us that we are justified by faith in Jesus Christ. Faith in Jesus Christ. Period. The end.

Presbyterian pastor Heidi Husted Armstrong writes, “Salvation is never a matter of Jesus and something else: not Jesus and certain cultural practices; not Jesus and a certain spiritual practice or theological perspective; not Jesus and a particular income level; not Jesus and a specific denominational brand; not Jesus and one political party; not Jesus and being good enough. Just Jesus. If anyone or anything else can be said to justify the sinner, the gospel is derailed, and, in the words of Paul’s devastatingly abrupt conclusion, “Christ died for nothing” (v.21)”[1] The community of Galatia used to depend on the law to bring them to salvation. If they just followed all the rules they would be saved from their sinfulness. Jesus came about to bring another way, a new path to salvation.

Jesus is a burner of old bridges. Like Indiana Jones, Lord of the Rings, Shrek, and so many action movies where the pathway crumbles behind the person who steps on it, as we follow Jesus, the old pathways fall away. Any way we try to access salvation apart from Jesus is like Wile E. Coyote trying to run on air. We are not left midair. Christ makes a new pathway, one designed for the forgiveness of all.

Emory professor, Wendy Farley wrote, “If we begin with faith, we can inhabit our traditions more lightly. We can enjoy the formation our particular community provides without insisting that it is the only way. Our faith can allow us to be nourished by tradition without assuming that those who practice differently have not knowledge of God. Faith gives us the confidence to honor our heritage, while recognizing the new things God is doing in other people’s lives.” [2]

I love the idea of inhabiting our traditions lightly. I think it helps to place the emphasis on our elemental faith in Jesus Christ, while allowing our traditions to compliment and support our faith, without overshadowing it.

This passage also brings up a beautiful image, allowing Christ to live in us. We affirm that Christ came for all, and so might Christ live within all for whom He died, that’s to say, everyone.

Farley continues, “Through death and resurrection Christ comes to dwell in the human heart and to produce a community based not on social distinctions but on love. This community should reflect our common human situation as recipients of grace and bearers of the Divine. The Divine dwells in Jews and Gentiles, slaves and free, men and women. This indwelling reveals the essential intimacy that exists between humanity and its creator, an intimacy that even we cannot neutralize, because it does not depend on us but on the graciousness of the living God. Faith allows the indwelling of Christ to become more transparent. Free from the logic of a social world built on the oppression of others, we are able to recognize others as bearers of the Divine. Faith is the sire of unity, where God’s desire for us and our own desire are woven together.” [3]

When we acknowledge one another as bearers of the Divine we are compelled to treat each other differently, to open up our eyes a bit wider to recognize Christ in our midst. And once we do recognize Christ in the other, we must make room for all to experience Christ’s great love.

Making room for all at the table of Christ may mean we get a little scrunched. We belong to a faith that affirms, “the first shall be last and the last shall be first.” We may approach the table as the last and then become the first, but what will we do from that position? At a certain point we need to cede our place as “first,” in order to allow others to come close.

This was also a concern of the Jews in Galatia. The first line of this passage could probably even be read with a bit of sarcastic bite: We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners.” (Galatians 2:15) The Galatians were concerned that if even Gentiles could be a part of this new covenant, could access salvation, that all of their law-abiding had been for nothing.

Why should they get to be a part of things when the Jews had done the hard work of establishing the community? You see, the idea of equality in the eyes of God is not so appealing when you think you’ve got the upper hand or the moral high ground. It’s tempting to think, what’s the point? The point is such equality expands the Kingdom of God. The second you perceive yourself as more worthy of salvation because of your great life or your good works you are missing the point. Your salvation comes not in spite of but because of your inadequacy. All are justified by faith in Christ. All of us, all of you, all of them, whoever the “them” is in your life. Those “others,” are also bearers of the divine image. They are also beneficiaries of grace.

In the time Paul wrote his letter to the community at Galatia the observant Jews would avoid eating with Gentiles, not because of any specific law, but because it would help to maintain purity of their faith. After observing the many dishes required to maintain a kosher kitchen I would imagine part of this avoidance was probably simply because it was easier. Christians who had been Jewish since birth and still desired to maintain these practices had a hard time sharing a table with Gentile Christians. It was difficult to bridge the difference between the old law and the new, and harder still to welcome others on equal standing to a table where they would always seem “the other.”[4]

It can be tricky and strange to explain to people in other denominations why we do the things we do, especially when many of our practices are based on tradition or what we’ve found works best for us. What is important is to make sure people know that these practices are not what brings salvation, Christ is. We too are tasked with welcoming these “others” to the table.

We approach the table and the font not because we’ve got it all figured out, but because we are so in need of God’s redemption. The sacraments are not about getting right with God, they’re about getting honest with God. They’re about being vulnerable. They’re about showing up. And since we are all sinners, we all approach the table at an equal footing.

God through the Holy Spirit makes us able to receive the waters of baptism. God through the Holy Spirit turns bread and juice into a life-giving feast. Christ’s presence is forever renewed in our midst when we acknowledge Him, seek Him out, and put our faith in His redemptive power.

May you approach the table today seeking Christ’s redemptive power for you and for all, even those you never might’ve thought we’re invited. Amen.

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[1] Heidi Husted Armstrong, Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3

[2] Wendy Farley, Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3

[3] Wendy Farley, Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3

[4] Gregory H. Ledbetter, Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3

Festival of Homiletics Tweets

I just returned from a wonderful week in Nashville for the Festival of Homiletics. It was such an incredible time I’m having trouble summarizing all of it, so I have decided to share some of the highlights from my tweets from the week. Please feel free to read more of them on my twitter page.

Photo a Day Lent – Day 44: Cup

“Cup”

The last lonely communion cup on the tray from tonight’s Maundy Thursday service.

“Thanksgiving for the Exceptional and the Everyday;” Psalm 95:1-6 and 1 Timothy 4:4-5; November 11, 2012, FPC Jesup

“Thanksgiving for the Exceptional and the Everyday”
Psalm 95:1-6 and 1 Timothy 4:4-5
November 11, 2012
First Presbyterian Church of Jesup

A few days ago I was walking my dog Bailey outside late at night. With the absence of traffic, I could hear the faint humming of the grain silo and the scratching of tree branches in the wind. The air felt electric. Perhaps it was my imagination but Bailey seemed to sense it too. He sniffed at the air, looking around expectantly. I looked up and the stars were brighter than what I could experience back in my hometown in Ohio, and then all of a sudden a shooting star blazed across the sky. I looked around, had anyone else seen it? Had anyone else witnessed this quick and bright moment of beauty?[1] Standing there in the midst of God’s amazing creation, I remember thinking, “surely God is present.”

In Genesis 28 we are given the story of Jacob having such a moment with God. Jacob was traveling in the wilderness and stopped to rest, using a rock as a pillow.That night he had a dream where God came to him and said,

“I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the LORD is in this place—and I did not know it!”Jacob then takes his stone pillow and sets it up as a pillar, pours oil on it and names it Bethel, House of God. In Hebrew Beth means house and El is short for “Elohim,” a name of God.

The space where this dream happened was not particularly exceptional. It was merely a patch of land with a stone. By any outside observation Jacob’s remarkable evening would’ve seemed like a rather mundane occurrence. A man, falls asleep outside with his head on a rock, and then wakes up and pours oil on it and keeps on walking. All in all, it was not a very remarkable experience. It became remarkable through God’s presence, and Jacob’s acknowledgement of that presence. God did not need Jacob’s monument to be present in that space. God was already there. But by drawing attention to that space, Jacob left a reminder of God’s presence and called it the “house of God.”

My favorite author, Barbara Brown Taylor explains her own encounter with God’s presence in her book “An Altar in the World.” After explaining a particularly beautiful scene during a visit to Hawaii she writes, “I knew the name of the place: Bethel, House of God…I wondered how I had forgotten that the whole world is the House of God. Who had persuaded me that God preferred four walls and a roof to wide-open spaces? When had I made the subtle switch myself, becoming convinced that church bodies and buildings were the safest and most reliable places to encounter the living God?” She continues, saying:

“Do we build God a house so that we can choose when to go and see God? Do we build God a house in lieu of having God stay at ours? Plus, what happens to the rest of the world when we build four walls – even four gorgeous walls – cap them with a steepled roof, and designate that the House of God? What happens to the riverbanks, the mountaintops, the deserts, and the trees? What happens to the people who never show up in our houses of God? The people of God are not the only creatures capable of praising God, after all, There are also wolves and seals. There are also wild geese and humpback whales. According to the Bible, even trees can clap their hands.”[2]

Barbara Brown Taylor’s redefinition of the House of God as the whole world opens up the worship of God to all parts of creation and speaks to God’s inability to be contained in a single building or community. Our uncontainable God is spoken of in this way in scripture, especially in the Old Testament. Before God came to earth in Jesus Christ, God was perpetually being described as One who is unknowable, unnameable, and far beyond the bounds of human convention. This view of God is described in the poetic devices of the Hebrew texts.

Our Psalm today speaks in merisms. Merisms are phrases that list two extremes with the implied, “and everything in between.” Merisms are not foreign to our culture, we still use phrases like, “searched high and low,” “through thick and thin,” and “in sickness and in health.” Merisms are used quite a bit in the Bible, particularly in the poetry of the Hebrew Bible. I’m going to read through a few of them and just to help all of us to be aware of what is really being said, I’d like you to say with me, “and everything in between” after each one.

Our passage today says, “In his hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also.” And say it with me, “and everything in between”Later in the passage it says, “The sea is his, for he made it, and the dry land, which his hands have formed.” And… “and everything in between.” Psalm 139:2 says, “You know when I sit down and when I get up.” And… “and everything in between.” Psalm 113:3 says, “From the rising of the sun to its setting the name of the LORD is to be praised.” And… “and everything in between.” I particularly enjoy this verse because the rising and setting of the sun can be interpreted both in terms of geography and in terms of time. God is to be praised in all places at all times.

God is present in shooting stars, rocky wilderness, Hawaiian vistas, and everything in between. God is present in this building, in the other churches of Jesup, in my home church in Ohio, in the temples of Jerusalem, the cathedrals of Rome, and everything in between.  God is there when we take notice, and there when we don’t. God is there in the exceptional circumstances of our lives and there in the mundane. God is in the everything in between. Our experiences are made holy by God’s presence. And God’s presence is made known to us when we praise God with thanksgiving.

This is what we acknowledge in our sacraments of baptism and communion. Sacraments are a visible sign of the invisible actions of the Holy Spirit in our midst. Sacraments change our experience, making sacred meaning out of secular elements.

Just as with the seemingly everyday actions of Jacob in the wilderness, if an outside observer was watching us today without an explanation of what was going on, they would think that later on in the service as we share bread and grape juice that we are simply having a snack together. It might seem a bit odd, everyone lining up and ripping off bread. But while we outwardly receive bread and juice, “by the work of the Holy Spirit [we] also inwardly receive the flesh and blood of the Lord, and are thereby nourished unto life eternal.”[3]

This is what Jesus did too. He was born in an ordinary stable into an ordinary body. He was beyond exceptional, but also lived an everyday sort of life. He is immortal and beyond time, yet He also lived, breathed, dreamed, cried, and died, all in a very real way. He was the shooting star surrounded by the dark night.

John 1:1-5 tells us:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

Jesus was in the beginning, He will be with us in the end. And in everything in between.

With gratitude towards God’s presence in all of creation and all of our experience, I’d like to close today with a poem by e.e. cummings:

thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

May the ears of your ears and eyes of your eyes be open to God’s presence in every in between of your life. Amen.

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[1] I discovered later that this was the North Taurid Meteor Shower.

[2] Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: a Geography of Faith (San Francisco: HarperOne, 2009), 9.

[3] Second Helvetic Confession 5.196

“Living Bread;” John 6:51-58; October 7, 2012; FPC Jesup

“Living Bread”
John 6:51-58
October 7, 2012, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup

When you think of “living bread,” what comes to mind? If you’ve been in the church for a while it likely conjures up images of communion and Jesus and scripture and everything you think you should be thinking about right now. But let’s try to press reset on our minds and reimagine these words as if we’ve never heard them put together before. Living bread. Sort of strange isn’t it? Bread come to life. I imagine it might be friends, or perhaps enemies with “The Brave Little Toaster,” of the Disney 1987 cartoon film.

Bread, with eyes and a smile, maybe some arms and legs. It might look something like this.

This puts a new spin on things when we hear living bread. It’s perhaps even a bit creepy. Our Gospel lesson today doesn’t make it any less creepy: “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.”

It is sayings like this that scared some people away from Christianity in the time of the early church. These people were clearly cannibals! Why would anyone want to be a part of this? If we joined them that’d mean we’d need to eat flesh and drink blood too. That’s just wrong! In a culture currently fascinated with teenage vampires, perhaps it’d be easier to get people to go along with things these days, but still, it sounds creepy.

Setting aside these rather frightening images of living bread, we can consider another dimension of these words. When you look closely at a piece of bread there are all sorts of tiny holes; the places for our peanut butter and jelly to settle in on your sandwich. These hole-y spaces are made by tiny organisms called yeast. Yeast is activated by the warm water and flour of bread making. Once activated they make the dough grow by creating little pockets of carbon dioxide.[1]

Yeast is airborne and can be cultivated by literally pulling it from the air. When I was living in North Adams, Massachusetts this summer I was able to witness a project of Canadian artist, Eryn Foster where she did just that at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, MASS MoCA. Eryn Foster’s projects are most often very interactive and have to do with a sense of place, including a video tour of Canada that can be viewed by walking on a treadmill. This summer I saw Eryn walking around with this wooden cart with a bowl in it and I wasn’t quite sure what on earth she could be doing until I saw a video about it.[2] Together let’s watch this video and it will tell us a bit more about her project.

[We watched the first 2:30 of the video]

I found this project pretty fascinating. At first it’s kind of strange to think about the sort of airborne cultures that are surrounding us day-to-day.  Sure we hear about germs in the air and take precautions with hand washing and cleaning products to try to get rid of them, but there are also other things that surround us that can be life giving, such as the yeast.

This got me to thinking about how are we affected by what is around us. What are the external sources that feed into our composition? What are the things in our environment that cause us to rise, or not? In the video Eryn Foster says, “There are certain areas where you’re going to find wild yeast more plentiful.”

The same could be said for these rising forces in our lives. When we surround ourselves with people living lives fueled by Christ, we in turn are fueled by their good “yeast.”

This weekend I had this sort of fueling, rising experience. I attended Women of Faith with a busload of 52 women from Jesup and Independence and about 3,000 other sisters in Christ. There was a palpable energy in the place, of stories shared, sung, painted, and danced. Three thousand-some women all fueled by the love of Christ, whose joy in worship spilled over to those around them. This was certainly a place where the “yeast” of faith was plentiful.

Particularly on this World Communion Sunday, we are made aware that that there are places in this world where this “yeast” of faith is not as plentiful. We’ve heard about “at risk” communities, the despair of war torn countries, and pain of impoverished nations.  These are places yearning for those external ingredients to help them to rise up.

In scripture, Amos said: “There is a famine upon the land: not a famine of bread, or thirst for water, but for hearing the word of the Lord.” [3] In our world today there are indeed famines. There are famines created by improper distribution of food in countries with political instability. There are famines for thirst in countries without technology or resources for digging wells for healthy drinking water. Though food, water, and money, will help to alleviate some of the effects of these problems, what we are dealing with is more than a famine for resources, it is a famine for compassion, for love, and for justice. This deep societal hunger can only be filled by actions fueled by the bread that keeps us from never going hungry, our living bread, Jesus Christ.

John Calvin wrote of the seed of faith. He said that this seed exists within all of us, this kernel of desire for experience with God. Like the living yeast that surrounds us and is present in our bread, this kernel is only activated when we feed it the nutrients of Biblical truths and allow for it to grow through times of contemplation and prayer.

Another line that caught me in the video was when Eryn says, “It’s this kind of funny idea of looking for something that we can’t actually see.” How often have we heard, or perhaps thought ourselves, of this a criticism of God. How can we be fueled by a God we can’t see?

Once when Billy Graham was asked to explain the existence of God he likened it to the wind saying, “I can’t see the wind, but I can see the effects of the wind.” When we look at bread that has been directly affected by yeast, the effect is holes. The effect is to create space for flavor to flourish. This hole-y place is life giving.

And how do we even know when yeast has been found? We know the yeast has been found by the bread it produces. By the same token, we know lives fueled by the seed of faith by the grace filled lives they produce.

In Luke 6:44 we read, “Each tree is known by its own fruit. Figs are not gathered from thorns, nor are grapes picked from a bramble bush.” When we are rooted in faith, we live faith-filled lives.

On this world communion Sunday it’s also intriguing to think about Eryn Foster’s discussion about the flavor of a place.

For me I think of the description of India by Frances Hodgson Burnett in “A Little Princess.” She talks about how you can taste the perfumes of the spices in the air. Certainly our lives carry their own flavors as well. Think about it. What are the smells, sounds, and tastes of home? As this airborne yeast contributes to dough that is distinctly drawn from this community, so are we flavored by the culture that surrounds us.

What would we want the flavor of this community to be? What sort of bread are we making with our lives? Are we a complex multigrain? Are we a tough but flavorful sourdough? Are we a mixed up marble rye? And what sort of flavors do we carry out into the world with us? How do our lives flavor those with whom we interact each day?

As we come to communion today our bread is living bread both literally through the yeast culture, and sacramentally through the presence of the Holy Spirit among us as we eat this bread in remembrance of Christ’s death and resurrection. Let us allow this living bread to flavor our lives so that we may in turn flavor the lives of one another. Amen.

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[1] http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=watch-yeast-live-breathe&print=true

[2] http://agiftofculturedculture.com/ Check this out for more information about the project.

[3] Amos 8:11

15 Reasons I’ve Never Left (The) Church

In conversation with Rachel Held Evans’,”15 Reasons I Left Church” and “15 Reasons I Returned to The Church” 

As a 25 year old growing up in America today, I am part of a significant minority of people who have weathered high school, college, and young adulthood with consistent mainline denomination church attendance and membership. I’m not saying this as a point of pride, but rather out of a bit of surprise. Christ’s Church has been such a cornerstone to my life, that it’s hard to imagine my life without it, even for a short while.

Within the candidacy process (for ordination to ministry in the PCUSA) I was asked how I could know that God was calling me to minister in the church if I haven’t tried anything else yet. That question caught me off guard. But then I realized, I had tried other things. In high school I worked with the yearbook and newspaper and thought I might be a journalist because I like shedding light on stories people might not know otherwise. In college I studied film production because I like being enabling people to tell their stories and show what the world looks like from their point of view. The funny thing is God finds a way to use every bit of who we are towards ministry. I am a journalist through newsletters, bulletin announcements, directories, and websites. I am a film producer, sharing the stories of the church through film.

Through ministry, God enables me to be the best parts of myself.

So here are 15 (of many) reasons why I’ve never left The Church (or church):

1. A weekly corporate prayer of confession. There’s something beautifully vulnerable about standing in a room filled with people of all ages and life stages and confessing our brokenness to God and one another. Imagine going out to other places and relationships in your life and confessing this same brokenness. Imagine how the world could be changed if we all admitted our mistakes and the ways we create intentional distance in relationship.

2. A delightful 97 year old member of our church whose love for God and God’s church fuels every aspect of her life. Our weekly conversations about how the church can be strengthened show me that Church membership is not about showing up each week as if attending some performance. Membership is about being a part of things, actively engaging and participating in whatever capacity you are able.

3. 1 Corinthians 12: This passage reminds me how each of us has a role in doing God’s work here on earth.

4. Barbara Brown Taylor. Yes she is Episcopalian, and yes her faith journey has taken her back and forth from active participation in the Church, but the poetic honesty that she offers in every sermon and piece of writing have given me a resolute peace in God’s call on my life to be a minister.

5. Hearing the statements of faith of newly confirmed members. I first felt God calling me to ministry while I was in confirmation class in the 8th grade. Knowing the impact of confirmation first-hand, i delight in hearing where these new members are in their journey of faith.

6. Ecclesiastes 4:9-12. This passage speaks in a direct way of the strength we have through unity.

7. Project Burning Bush. Sadly, this program has ended, but it’s 10 year existence gives me hope not only for the future of the church, but for its present reality. Throughout my time with PBB as both participant and staff, I met a great many wonderful people who genuinely delight in being the Church.

8. The community of Union Presbyterian Seminary. The faculty, staff, and students of this beautiful institution have taught me so much about what it means to be the Church. In agreement and in conflict, these people’s tangible passion for improvement strengthened who I am and what I am willing to fight for to allow God’s Kingdom to be manifest.

9. Matthew 18:20 Through our Church community and the relationships we share with one another, we invite God to be present among us. God shows up in the ways we care for one another.

10. Communion. In communion we are reminded of Jesus Christ’s great sacrifice for us, but also of the meal that he shared with His disciples in the Last Supper. We can be sure that this was one of many meals they shared, but this one was different. Before the meal Jesus knelt down in front of the disciples and washed their feet. In breaking the bread he introduced it as His body, speaking of how He could nourish them like no earthly bread could. He also spoke of how the wine as His blood gives life. He asked His disciples to specifically eat bread and drink wine as a way to remember Him.
When we join in communion we are making ourselves present to the events of this meal. I picture everyone in our congregation, sitting down with every other congregation, sitting down with Jesus and His disciples.

11. First Presbyterian Church of Muncie. I am grateful for my home church, First Presbyterian Church of Maumee and the ways they have all blessed me throughout my life, but First Presbyterian Church of Muncie holds a special place in my life. While FPC Maumee has had the opportunity to get to know me through relationships with my family and by watching me grow up throughout childhood, FPC Muncie knew me only while I was in college. Still, FPC Muncie welcomed me heartily, welcoming me into their choir loft and into their relationships like I had been there for years. I will never forget how much a part of the Church I felt when being a part of that church.

12. Deuteronomy 31:6. This passage tells us that God will always be with us. Even if I did leave a particular church, I know that God would always be present with me. However, this passage is not about striking out on your own to worship God alone as you may please. This passage comes in the context of Moses speaking to the people of Israel as they are about to head into the promise land. They travel as a large group and are strengthened through their faith in God as they have experienced God in community. They could not have made it to that point alone and God never intended them to. God will never ever leave us or forsake us, but that does not mean that we should intentionally create distance between ourselves and those who are eager to help us have a relationship with God.

13. Funerals. When someone dies I know I often find myself thinking about what will be said about me when I’m gone. I think about how long I will live and the experiences that I will have throughout my lifetime. If left to my own devices I think I would probably spend more time thinking about how I’ve been affected by someone’s death than the effect they have made with their life. Funerals work to bring us outside of that, focusing on the greater picture: the comfort of our common hymns, scripture telling us of God’s plans for us in heaven, and proclamations of the promise of resurrection.

14. Church meals. Child development experts can tell us the value of family dinner. Eating meals together fosters healthy habits and relationships. The same can be said of church dinners. When we eat together we approach each other on common ground. We all need to be fed physically, spiritually, and relationally. Meals with our church family allows for that to happen.

15. Baptisms. My favorite moment of the baptism is when the congregation affirms their role in the life of the person being baptized. In baptism, the person baptized becomes a part of the church family. We all take on the responsibilities of discipleship and Christian education. We promise to nurture this newly baptized person as they grow in faith. Simultaneously we are reminded of how we have all promised these vows to one another. Being the Church means saying: “I am here to travel this road with you. I will know God better through God’s work in your life and you will know God better through God’s work in mine.”

“Hungry,” Luke 12:13-21 and Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23; August 1, 2010, North Presbyterian Church

In honor of this evening’s opening showing of the Hunger Games, (Yes, I have read all three books, and yes, I will be at the midnight showing tonight) I am reposting a sermon I preached in 2010 about hunger.

Hungry
Luke 12:13-21 and Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23
August 1, 2010, North Presbyterian Church

I’ve never really liked Ecclesiastes. It’s always seemed quite disheartening really. The author of Ecclesiastes goes chapter by chapter talking about the different things humankind strives for, but how each is “vanity” and like “chasing after the wind” or in some translations “feeding on the wind.” This isn’t exactly something you’d see on a motivational poster in someone’s office or hear in a commencement address. Fortunately for us, this is not the only book in the Bible, nor is it the last book. God does not leave us in frustration or hopelessness. This book gives us a diagnosis of the human condition, but it does not give us the prescription. What Ecclesiastes tells us, is that we as human beings are hungry. We are hungry for something beyond what we can we can work to make or go to the store to buy. We are hungry for something real, something tangible, something lasting. We are hungry for fulfillment. We are hungry to stop being hungry. We are hungry for God.

Imagining the hunger of Ecclesiastes I can’t help but picture a scene in the movie Hook. The movie Hook is about Peter Pan after he leaves Neverland, grows up, gets married, and has kids. He is a ruthless and successful businessman who never seems to be able to find time to make his wife, children, and company happy. On a visit back to his wife’s grandmother’s home, Wendy Darling, who is the Wendy that we know from the story of Peter Pan, his life is jolted by a visit from the nefarious Captain Hook, who kidnaps his children and forces him to go back to Neverland to save them. Peter, with the help of Tinkerbell makes it back to Neverland, meets up with the Lost Boys, and gets trained in how to become who he was before, Peter Pan. After a long day of training, the boys sit down at a table full of plates, cups, and silverware and the boys begin to eat. The trouble is Peter doesn’t see any food in front of them. He gets into an argument with the leader of the Lost Boys and finally decides to go along with things and “pretend” to throw his food at the boy. Peter is shocked to see the food materialize, hit the boy in the face, and a food fight ensues. Peter then feasts with the boys and everything changes. This meal feeds him in a way he forgot he was hungry. It helps him to reconnect with his imagination, his hope, his creativity, and eventually his family. For so long he had been striving towards things that weren’t feeding him, weren’t helping him connect with who he was and who he was called to be.

Today we will be celebrating communion. Communion is not the food of the movie Hook. It is not imaginary. We have before us real bread and real grape juice. And, barring any mishaps, we will not be having a food fight here this morning. But the feast before us also requires a bit of imagination on our part. In the Upper Room, Jesus broke bread and poured wine and told His disciples, “This is my body broken for you” and “this is my blood” shed for you. In this Eucharistic feast, Jesus asks us to imagine His body as the bread and the juice as His blood. In doing so, we are able to connect to our very real God. A God that came to earth, lived walked, moved, breathed, and yes, hungered and thirsted.

When we join with one another in communion we eat not for the nourishment of our bodies, for communion will likely not fill up any physical hunger you may have, but we eat for the nourishment of our souls. We eat to taste community. We eat to taste forgiveness. We eat to taste fulfillment.

A lectionary commentary that I like to use in writing sermons is called “Feasting on the Word.” As the series website explains it, this book is made up of many “writers from a wide variety of disciplines and religious traditions. These authors teach in colleges and seminaries. They lead congregations. They write scholarly books as well as columns for the local newspaper. They oversee denominations… they serve God’s Word, joining the preacher in the ongoing challenge of bringing that Word to life.”[1]

I like to imagine its authors sitting at a banquet table, silverware in hand, napkin on laps, and Biblical texts spread out in front of them. In “tasting” various texts they speak to one another, trying to explain how the flavor, texture, and scent of the Word all come together on their spiritual taste buds, to feed their own theological hunger. I imagine that they approach Scripture treating it not as a simple snack of some words strung together but as a feast rich with the flavors of grace, redemption, love, and compassion. They come to scripture expecting to see God revealed, and in their own delicious discoveries of the texts they help others to recognize the taste of God.

As we share in communion we are reminded that Jesus is the “Word that became flesh,” who yearns for us to “consume” Him, to have “communion” with Him in the Eucharist and in the word so that we “may have life to the full.”[2]

There is a book I’ve read about spiritual disciplines, talking about how to recognize God’s presence within and among our experiences, called “Sleeping with Bread.” The introduction explains the title saying, “During the bombing raids of World War II, thousands of children were orphaned and left to starve. The fortunate ones were rescued and placed in refugee camps where they received food and good care. But many of these children who had lost so much could not sleep at night. They feared waking up to find themselves once again homeless and without food. Nothing seemed to reassure them. Finally, someone hit upon the idea of giving each child a piece of bread to hold at bedtime. Holding their bread, these children could finally sleep in peace. All through the night the bread reminded them, ‘Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow.’”[3]

Ecclesiastes tells us of the great hunger that we feel for life, a hunger only satiated by God’s presence in our lives. When these children were hungry, only food could calm their fears and help them to know that they were safe. Mahatma Gandhi once said, “there are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” To these children, God was in the bread. That was what they ached for and what was provided.

Sharing God with the world means feeding both the physical and the spiritual hunger. The trouble is sometimes differentiating between the two. In scripture, Amos said: “There is a famine upon the land: not a famine of bread, or thirst for water, but for hearing the word of the Lord.”[4] In our world today there are famines. There are famines created by improper distribution of food in countries with political instability. There are famines for thirst in countries without technology or resources for digging wells for healthy drinking water. Though food, water, and money, will help to alleviate some of the effects of these problems, what we are dealing with is more than a famine for resources, it is a famine for compassion, for love, and for justice. This deep societal hunger can only be filled by actions fueled by the bread that keeps us from never going hungry, God.

There was controversy this past week over a t-shirt for sale at Urban Outfitters that had “Eat Less” printed across the front of it. Various celebrities and bloggers responded on how they felt about the message of this shirt. Some said it was offensive and promotes a culture that encourages and glamorizes eating disorders. Others said that it was a witty response to too much consumerism in American culture.

I wonder why this shirt was created at all. Our culture does have issues with consumerism, but this is not any kind of message of healing, compassion or kindness. Wearing this shirt will not promote any positive change or relationship in how we interact with food or how we provide for one another. The reality of this is not that we need to be promoting eating less or eating more, but eating differently. Eating in a way that truly nourishes who God created us to be. Partaking in both physical and spiritual nourishment. Fueling our bodies in ways that create opportunity for others to be fueled.

Society is not structured so that humankind may be fed in the way that it needs. Even when we eat, we are not being truly nourished. Milk costs $3 a gallon, soda is less than a dollar, so many parents are faced with hard decisions about what they are able to provide. The cheaper choice may quench a family’s thirst, but their hunger remains. They consume plenty of calories, but do not get the nutrients they need for healthy growth, development, and well being. They are not nourished.

There are “all you can eat buffets” where even the title states that the goal is not to eat until you are nourished, but to eat until you can eat no more. You may be full, even sickeningly so, but you will not be nourished.

Food is used as a means of power in far too many ways across our society. It is denied from the poor to keep corrupt governments in power. People with eating disorders may deny their own bodies of food to seek power over self-esteem or body image. Food is used as a distraction, a comfort, a crutch, a band aid, a replacement for what we are really hungering for. Far too often it is used as anything but nourishment.

God knows that we are hungry. God knows that what we need is life-giving food. We need this bread and this juice. We need reminders that among all the hungers of this world, when we partake in the forgiveness Jesus gives us, we will never be spiritually hungry again. God is real and present and available. Anything less than God will keep us hungry. Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”[5] May you seek this week to be fed and to help others be fed with the nourishment that only God can provide. Amen.

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[1] http://www.feastingontheword.net/index.html

[2] John 10:10

[3] Sleeping with Bread: Holding What Gives You Life, by Denis Linn, Shelia Fabricant Linn, and Matthew Linn, p. 1

[4] Amos 8:11

[5] John 6:35