A Preaching Image

I preached today at my home congregation. My grandparents attended the service. Upon greeting me prior to the service, my grandma asked me,

"Are you going to wear your toga today?"

English is my grandma's third language ... so she was pretty close. Definitely made me smile at the mental image.

The Sermon Muse

There are some things I love about preaching:

• interacting with the text
• discussing the text with others
• finding the good news for a specific group of people in a specific place at a specific time

There are some things that are annoying about preaching:

• being inspired at midnight just as I am about to fall asleep
• having another great thought come to me while in the shower

Why can't the sermon muse show up when I sit down at the computer and have blocked out time to work on the sermon?

It's not that I'm not grateful for the inspiration of the muse ... I'm just wondering if we could get on the same schedule ...

Faith

Sunday, August 12, 2007
Hebrews 11:1 - 12:2

Faith.

It’s just a five-letter word.
It wouldn’t earn many points in a game of Scrabble.
It might even be laughed at
by those who take their Scrabble a little too seriously.

Faith.

It’s just a five-letter word.
It’s not the biggest or most impressive sounding word
a seminary-educated individual, like myself, could use.

There’s words and phrases like
eschatological imagination,
hermeneutic of suspicion,
subjective atonement,
soteriology,
and pneumatology.

Now those would be some big, five-dollar words
to leave you with on my last Sunday.
But they aren’t the words for today.
There’s just one word today,
maybe even the one word: faith.

Faith.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for,
the conviction of things not seen.” (Heb 11:1)

“Faith is the firm foundation under everything
that makes life worth living.
It’s our handle on what we can’t see.” (The Message)

“Faith is the complete trust or confidence in someone or something.” (dictionary.com)

“Faith is a firm and certain knowledge of God’s benevolence toward us,
founded upon the truth of the freely given promise of Jesus Christ,
both revealed to our minds & sealed on our hearts by the Holy Spirit.” (Calvin)

Those are some good definitions –
from a couple different translations of the Bible,
and from a dictionary and from good ol’ Calvin
(can’t forget about him) –
but what does it all mean …
What is faith … really?

Pushing aside the English geek or grammatical fanatic,
and the fact that the word “faith” is listed as a noun in the dictionary,
I think faith is really best thought of as a verb,
as an action word.

You know:
Billy and Susie ran.
Spot jumped.
Mommy yelled.

Because as author Kathleen Norris puts it,
faith is more than just a thing that you either have or you don’t.
Faith is not just an abstract concept.

It’s trust in God in the every day stuff.
It’s obedience to the Lord’s commands.
And those two things require some doing.

And so,
faith is an action word.

We see that word in action in chapter 11 of Hebrews.
There is a whole litany of the actions of the faithful over the years.

In the past,
faith has been
building a ginormous ark
even though you haven’t ever seen a torrential downpour or a flood;
faith has been
setting out for a new, promised land,
even though you have no idea
what a land flowing with milk and honey
actually looks like or if it even exists;
faith has been
walking around a city and blowing trumpets
even though you have never seen such actions
bring a city to its knees.

Faith has been about the doing (the verb part)
the building and the setting out and the walking,
despite reason, and “even thoughs,”
“althoughs” and “neverthelesses.”

And faith is still an action today.

It’s offering to God a portion of our money
even though we might be unsure about the bills later in the month
or the retirement savings and fund.

And faith is sharing food and clothing with neighbors
even though we’re worried about them both running out
and we’re not sure if the person is even really our neighbor.

And faith is worshipping the Lord our God with song and prayer
even though we might not be certain about everything.

Faith is more than lip service –
saying “I believe this” or “I don’t believe that.”

It’s putting those beliefs into action –
into the actual offering and sharing and worshipping.

It’s living faith.
It’s faith as an action word.

And those actions come from ordinary people.

Ordinary people –
like you and me
and the person on the street corner
and the one with a lisp
and the one who was barren
and the ones who liked to complain.

Ordinary people who were willing to move and do –
do some confident wandering,
rather than just some stationary wondering.

Ordinary people
who trust in and obey an extraordinary God.

So more than the five letters and the smart sounding definitions,
faith is moving beyond the “I believe” to the “therefore, I do …”
It’s about adding on some good verbs:
singing;
praying;
listening;
sharing;
serving.

What does your faith do?

Faith.

That’s it …
and that’s everything.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Because of Love

Sunday, July 22, 2007
Amos 8:1-12

Do you know how to pick fruit at the grocery store or the farmer’s market?
You know, thump it and if it sounds like this or that,
it’s ripe and just right.

For example, when a tomato, (because yes the tomato is a fruit),
when a tomato is firm to the touch and noticeably fragrant,
you know it’ll be good.

Or look for pieces of fruit that are plump and heavy for its size,
and of course, free from cuts and bruises, mildew and mold.

Most of the time these little tricks work;
or at least that’s what Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart will have you believe.

But sometimes, fruit that is perfect
in color and shape, sound and touch, and even smell
is really quite rotten and spoiled and past its prime inside.

Appearances can be deceiving.
Or to quote a well-known proverb
(since we’ve been talking about them at Bible study),
you can’t judge a book by its cover.

It’s what this vision of a fruit basket in Amos is all about.

The Lord showed Amos a basket of summer fruit –
of mangos and papayas and coconuts,
or maybe it was strawberries and blueberries and raspberries,
or perhaps honeydew melon and cantaloupe and pineapple.

And it looked delicious – good enough to scarf down immediately.

But wait … appearances can be deceiving.
This fruit is actually rotten.
Soft, mushy and unflavorful.
Past its prime.

And that’s exactly what God is telling the people through the prophet Amos –
the time is ripe for judgment.
They are past their prime.

Things may look really good,
so good the people may not be concerned,
but the end is coming.

And if the people’s appearance of holy living is deceptive,
rotten and past its prime,
so too are their words and excuses.

Sure they are couched in language of business as usual –
concern for not selling grain on the Sabbath:
“Look God, listen to how holy we are.
We’ve been observing the Sabbath and waiting to sell our wheat.”

But the words also reveal their lack of concern for the poor and the needy,
as they scheme ways to cheat the market goers out of fair prices and wares.

But God … God will have none of that.
God brings harsh judgment to the people through Amos.
And waits for their response.

What are they going to do? What are they going to do?
It’s what God is really interested in.

Not their appearance –
not the showy basket of fruit
that appears on the coffee table only when guests are around.

And certainly not their clever words –
not the boastful claims of the good things done
proclaimed so all can hear and know and admire.

It’s their actions God is really interested in.
Because if they don’t stop trampling on the needy
and bringing ruin to the poor …
it’s over …
the end will come.

And with it, the worst kind of famine.
Not a famine where summer fruit is sparse and rotten, and meals are light,
but a famine of the more serious kind –
a famine for the bread of life,
for the Word of God.

So why all this gloom and doom from the prophet Amos?
Why does the Lord swear to never forget the misdeeds of the people,
to never again pass them by?
Why does God proclaim a coming time
of darkness and mourning and lamentation?
Why?

The answer is simple:
Because of love.
Because of great love.
Sacrificial love.

Love that would send an only Son into the world,
not to condemn the world
but in order that the world might be saved.
The love of a parent who knows what’s best for his children.

Now, you may not be a die-hard Harry Potter fan like I am.
In fact, I’m guessing most of you are not.

You may have never read one of those books by JK Rowling
or even know that the final book of the series
was released at 12:01am on Saturday.

If that is so,
it also means that you probably actually accomplished something yesterday
whereas I sat around and read all day,
ten hours straight until I finished the book.

As I was preparing for the long-awaited release of the final book,
I’ve been thinking about the characters this past week.
And this snippet of an earlier part of the story came to mind:

In the second book – Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets –
twelve year old Harry and his best friend Ron
miss the train that should have taken them back to school.

In their haste to find another way to school,
they decide to drive a flying car.
And even in this world of magic,
it’s unwise for twelve year olds to drive.

As you might imagine, this method of travel broke a number of laws and school rules.
Both Harry and Ron are severely reprimanded by school professors;
they are told that their families will be informed of their behavior.
As punishment, the boys receive detention.

Worse than all this, though, is a Howler Ron receives.
See a Howler is a letter that magically allows one
who is not physically present
to still yell at and scold its receiver.

Ron receives this bright red bit of mail during breakfast in the great hall one morning. As Ron opens it, the piece of paper magically transforms into an origami type mouth. From this mouth proceeds the loud scolding voice of Ron’s mom, Mrs. Weasley:

“RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR!
YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU!
I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED!
YOUR FATHER IS NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK
AND ITS ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT.
WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS!
IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE,
WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!” (p.88)

All Ron can do is sit there and sheepishly nod his head.
He knows his mum loves him,
loves him deeply in a slightly smothering way,
loves all of her seven children very much.

But the Howler also tells Ron that his mom means business,
and that true love also comes with judgment.

And God means business in this vision given to Amos for the people.
Perhaps God furrowed her brow,
narrowed her eyes,
waved her finger,
and spoke in her substitute teacher voice
as today’s words of judgment were spoken.

And remember, these harsh words weren’t spoken to just any people,
but to God’s chosen people.

And the harsh words matter.
We can’t skip over them and toss them to the wayside.
The call to action for the poor and the needy is imperative.

But it’s also important to know what’s behind those words.

That the Lord loves these people so much
that God will not leave these people alone.

As preacher and scholar Will Willimon puts it:
“God keeps coming back to the people of Israel,
this time in the fierce words of the prophet Amos,
judging them, condemning them, punishing them
so that they might grow to be all that they are called to be.”

So that we might be all that we are called to be:
sped on our way by the God of all justice;
praying and singing and working for peace;
spurred on by harsh words meant to catch our attention;
but said … out of the greatest love.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Extreme Discipleship

Sunday, July 1, 2007
2 Kings 2:1-14
Luke 9:51-62

In an old, dying congregation in a neighborhood church in San Francisco, the choir stands to sing. Some of them are musically gifted and others are not. Their offerings of music in the past have not been especially noteworthy.

As a matter of fact, they have been decidedly cringe-worthy. One choir member is tone deaf, the accompanist is hard of hearing and often forgets to turn her hearing aid on, and several choir members can’t keep the beat.

But something is different this time. Sister Mary Clarence is directing this ragtag group and she has whipped them into a soulful chorus, one that has even attracted the attention of the Pope.

The movie is Sister Act and the song they are about to sing is “I Will Follow Him.” Though originally a love song by Little Peggy March concerning extreme devotion to a boy, in the context of this worship service, the song took on new meaning.

In this concert for the Pope, the swinging singing sisters of St. Katharine’s Convent begin quietly and traditionally:

I will follow him, follow Him wherever He may go.
And near Him, I always will be,
For nothing can keep me away, He is my destiny.

The choir continues:

I will follow Him, ever since He touched my heart I knew,
There isn’t an ocean too deep,
A mountain so high, it can keep,
Keep me away, away from His love.

And then, in a split second, the church choir transforms into a lively, spirited show choir. They continue with the song, though they are now belting it out from the bottom of their guts and adding hand motions.

I love Him, I love Him, I love Him,
And where He goes, I’ll follow, I’ll follow, I’ll follow.

These are bold claims:
Because of my love for you, I will go wherever you go.
I am willing to follow and trust.

Elisha follows.
Elisha follows Elijah to the very end.

Given three opportunities to stay back and go no further,
Elisha commits to remaining by his mentor’s side until he leaves earth.
Even when town prophets try to deter him,
Elisha reprimands them with a command for silence
and continues to follow Elijah.

The disciples make the same bold claims while they are on the road to Jerusalem with Jesus. “I will follow you wherever you go.”

And Jesus is quick to cut through the easily sung devotion and commitment:
“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests;
but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

Following has its consequences.
It means giving up some luxuries and even some basics.

And Jesus wants to ensure the disciples have some sense
of what they are saying, of the declaration they are making:

“Remember that nice home you had …?” he says.
“You know the hot meals you used to count on every day …
the pallet and pillow you slept on every night …
those things are not givens when you’re on the road with me.”

And as the disciples ponder this, Jesus calls out: “Follow me.”

Jesus’ summon is met with qualifiers and excuses:
“Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”
“But let me first say farewell to those at my home.”

Jesus’ response is not nice and easy or neat and tidy. It’s costly and difficult:
“Let the dead bury their own dead” and
“No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Whew. Jesus isn’t messing around. These are hard words.
These words ask the disciples, they ask us,
to put Jesus above home, and family obligations, and relationships.

As biblical scholar and preacher Fred Craddock puts it:
“Jesus never said to choose him over the devil but to choose him over family.
The radicality of Jesus’ words lies in his claim to priority over the best,
not the worst of human relationships.”
In this call to extreme discipleship, it’s about placing Jesus first.

And with that kind of sacrifice we all have our own questions:
“Can I check my schedule first – to see when it would be most convenient to take a trip?”
“Do we have seat belts for this bumpy journey?”
“Will it be safe?”
“Will I be able to stay in touch with my family?”
“Do you guarantee that my sacrifice will be worth it?”

And Jesus answers “no,”
with his eyes fixed on Jerusalem,
knowing and considering that what is ahead is difficult.

Following will require his first disciples and future disciples
to stand firm and proclaim repeatedly like Elisha: “I will not leave you”
even amongst the demands of home, family obligations, and relationships.
I will radically reorder my life, so I can follow Him.

Following will necessitate looking forward, not backward.

Jesus said, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Only looking back will not work.

In plowing, looking over your shoulder will cause your rows to become crooked.
In driving, only looking in the rearview mirror is guaranteed to cause an accident.
In church, only dwelling on the past will not leave room for the Spirit in the future.

And so here’s the questions we’re left with:
Where is Jesus asking us to travel, not yesterday, but today and tomorrow?
And in those travels, on that path, what does it mean to put Jesus first?

As we ponder and pray about these difficult questions
and the call to radical, extreme discipleship,
remember and know this:

We journey together,
we follow as a community of faith,
of fellow travelers on the road with Christ.

And on the Way, we are regularly nourished at the Table, at this Table –
given bread and wine for the journey,
given strength to continue on the difficult path.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Stillness

Sunday, June 24, 2007
1 Kings 19:1-15a

Shhhhhhhh … silence is golden.

The ad flashes across the movie screen right after the endless stream of previews for upcoming movies and even tv shows.

It may have incorporated a fake movie clip interrupted by a cell phone ring or a short song about all the noises people make during movies that are distracting and annoying. Either way or any other way, the moviegoer has been reminded of the sanctity of quietly watching the movie.

Shhhhhhhh … silence is golden.

Silence is filled with potential,
endless possibilities,
the prospect of something grand.

But do we really revere silence as being golden?

I’m not so inclined to believe so. There are instances when we do treasure some silence – like at the movie theatres when we are trying to enjoy one of the summer’s latest flicks. Or in a room filled with infants who are all napping at the same time.

But in reality, we do not give silence much thought or space, not in today’s society. It seems we are always inventing and buying new things so that we never have to endure any quiet or empty time or place.

There are mp3 players and ipods that provide continuous streams of music wherever one may be. There are cell phones and blackberries that allow one to remain connected to the Internet, email, news and sports almost anywhere. There’s the radio in the car and the interesting music in the elevator. Even the whirl of air-conditioners and fans are everywhere during a Florida summer.

Something is always going on in the background.

But listen …
Do you hear it … ?
A sound of sheer silence.

Did you miss it?
We’re not very good at paying attention to the details.
There’s a plethora of distractions.

But it’s there … the possibility of it is always there.
If we can get past the other stuff of life.
And that’s no easy job.

Elijah had a difficult time of it.
He had to get past his own distractions –
the prophetic crisis he found himself in:

“I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts;
for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant,
thrown down your altars,
and killed your prophets with the sword.
I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”

And lest he become so wrapped up in his own little pity party,
the Lord sends him to stand on the mountain
and wait for the Lord to pass by.

First comes the wind –
the wind would have been a great way for the Lord to appear.
The wind from God swept over the face of the waters in creation;
the wind blew over the earth and the waters subsided after the great flood;
the wind parted the Red Sea so Moses and the Hebrews could walk across it.
The wind is powerful, but the Lord was not in the wind.

Then an earthquake shakes things up –
and the shaking would have been a magnificent display of the Lord.
Isaiah talks about the Lord of hosts visiting people in thunder and earthquakes;
the land shook when Christ died on the cross,
and again three days later when the stone was rolled away from the grave.
An earthquake can mark miracles, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.

And then there was the fire –
fire would have been an impressive witness to the Lord.
Fire had burned in the bush from which God called to Moses;
the Lord went in front of the Israelites as a pillar of fire by night as they left Egypt;
the Lord descended on Mt. Sinai in fire and smoke when speaking to Moses.
The fire is glorious, but the Lord was not in the fire.

And after this spectacular show of special effects,
Elijah is still waiting for a theophany –
he is still waiting for the Lord to pass by.

(Perhaps he also will catch a flash of God’s glorious backside like Moses did.)

And into that space and place of waiting, of paying attention,
Elijah heard a sound of sheer silence …
HEARD a sound of sheer silence.

Other translations call it
“a still small voice” (RSV)
“a gentle whisper” (NIV)
“the soft whisper of a voice” (TEV)
“a low murmuring sound.” (NEB)

At the very least, it was the appearance of something inconsequential, barely noticeable.

But Elijah noticed it,
even after the other glorious possibilities of God’s presence –
the ones which were much more consequential and grand –
Elijah noticed the silence because he was still.

He had quieted everything within him
and the outside distractions for just a moment.
And he went and stood on the ledge of a cave,
still … expectant … and he heard God.

The stillness didn’t last long.
Elijah took up his pity party complaint once again
(the exact same complaint he had prior to the Lord’s appearance).

And then the Lord sends him on his way.
Elijah was soon traveling through the wilderness of Damascus
to face his prophetic calling once again.

But for a moment, just one moment of his day …
stillness … silence … a mini-Sabbath.
A break from the hectic-ness of life to remember the Lord
and watch and listen for the Lord.

How often do we do that?
Just pause for a moment and take a break?

It’s one of the commandments – the fourth one to be exact:
“Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.
Six days you shall labor and do all your work.
But the seventh day is a Sabbath for the Lord your God …
For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them,
but rested the seventh day.” (Exodus 20:8ff)

Rested …
God, the Creator of heaven and earth,
paused enough to enjoy all of the hard work of creation
and just rested.

And, yet …
we, who were formed in the very image of God,
we don’t do the same.

It’s too convenient to skip by that commandment.
To say we’ll follow it more when things lighten up.

Perhaps during the summer, or the winter.
Or when the kids are out of the house.
Or when there are less things on our plates.
Or when our to do list is shorter and more manageable.
Or … or … or … the list could continue forever.

But what about just a little bit of stillness –
what about just a few moments of watching and waiting,
enough of a pause in our day or week to remember that God is God and we are not.

A small break from the life
where everything is urgent and hurried and needs immediate attention, our attention.
A period of Sabbath.

A whole day can seem a bit daunting.
But what about something more manageable to begin with:

A couple of moments of silence and prayer each morning,
or a couple of moments of reading Scripture and being still at the end of the day;
Perhaps a few hours each week of putting aside
the “shoulds” and the “musts” and the “have tos” and the “oughts”
to enjoy God and creation, relationships and hobbies;
Or maybe it’s not something specific,
and it’s just sauntering through half a day once a month,
enjoying the spaciousness of time.

For if the spirit sometimes comes and speaks in stillness
and we are forever caught up in the whirlwind of life,
the busyness of being on the run and on to the next great thing,
distracted by earth, wind and fire –

We may miss out on the sound of sheer silence …
on the presence and glimpse of God in the little things …
of God breaking through the silence to speak.

Stillness and Sabbath look a little bit different for everyone.
But at their core, it’s about intentionally setting aside time that is different,
time for holy rest and renewal, time for waiting and listening,
time for simply slowing down.

Just a few hours or moments of stillness –
enough to notice the night blooming cyrus’ glorious opening one evening;
to sit and watch the sunset at the beach and enjoy the sound of the waves;
to discover hundreds of sand fiddler crabs scurrying into their holes during a hike.

These are the ways I’ve been still
and quieted the distractions around me recently.
But there are certainly other ways:

Sitting down to an unhurried meal with family and friends;
Taking a leisurely walk;
Or exploring something new, whether it be a place or interest.

How will you find a way to embrace stillness …
a period of Sabbath this week?
How about beginning right now?

Because it seems a little oxymoronic
to continue to talk about stillness and silence.
So I’m going to shut up for a couple of minutes,
so we can actually practice it.

(It’ll only be a moment, so you don’t need to worry about it continuing forever.)

But for just a moment right now,
still the chaotic wind, earthquake and fire,
and enter a period of stillness before the Lord.

(a short period of silence)

Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind;

and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake;

and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire;

and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.


Thanks be to God. Amen.

Gathered by the Spirit

Sunday, May 27, 2007
Pentecost Sunday
Genesis 11:1-9 & Acts 2:1-21

If you happened to walk past a particular courtyard near Columbia Seminary a year and a half ago on a crisp autumn day, you would not have believed your eyes.

Twelve adults were spinning, around and around and around – spinning like little children do when they’re pretending they’re tops or helicopters or just trying to make themselves dizzy.

Twelve seminary students were spinning and spinning and spinning, faster and faster and faster as they enacted and lived into the story of Pentecost.

And I, along with most of the other students in the class, eventually fell to the ground dizzy and a little out of sorts. The Holy Spirit had just descended upon us and overwhelmed us and left us amazed and astonished and perplexed, and a little out of breath.

At least that’s what the professor of this course was aiming for when she designed this particular day of class. Some way of conveying what it might have been like on that day years ago. What it might have been like to be a disciple on that first day of Pentecost.

Picture it: Gathered together in the upper room of a house, trying to figure out what to do. Their leader Jesus had been crucified, had risen from the dead and appeared to them, and then hung around for fifty days. Just recently Christ had ascended into heaven.

So far, they had replaced the delinquent disciple Judas with Matthias. That order of business had been taken care of. But what to do next, now that Jesus had ascended in a cloud?

Perhaps they were brainstorming plans of action. Perhaps they were debating the merits of going back to fishing. Perhaps they were sitting silently in the room, just looking at one another, without a clue as to what to do next.

Regardless, the Holy Spirit caught them by surprise. Coming with wind and fire and tongues. Filling them up and giving them the ability to speak other languages.

And in that whirlwind moment, the Holy Spirit – the mysterious, forceful, powerful, dizzying Spirit – gathered them together as disciples and bestowed upon them the power of God.

And it would look and sound to others like they were drunk and out of their minds. But the movement was not haphazard and crazy. It brought disciples together. Gathered them into a group that would go forward and become the leaders on The Way and live the great stories of the early church in the book of Acts.

Because it was the Holy Spirit’s doing.

It’s the exact opposite of what we heard in the first scripture lesson from Genesis.

In the story of the Tower of Babel, the people of God start off gathered together – gathered together by their one language with all the same words and nuances; gathered together by a common purpose.

They are going to build for themselves a city with a tower that will reach to the heavens. The people are gathered together by their hubris, by their own need to make a name for themselves and accomplish something great.

And the Lord knows this gathering could become troublesome. So the Lord confuses the language of all the people and scatters them over all the face of the earth. This gathering was not the work of the Holy Spirit. This gathering had been about individuals and their (literal) climb to the top.

And so the Lord puts the kibosh on it. Stops it before it gets too far and people think they can live their lives and do anything they please without paying any attention to the Lord.

Because that’s not the way. The way, as we see in Acts, is simply about being gathered in by the Holy Spirit to worship the Lord and then letting the Holy Spirit move in and through and amongst those gathered.

For the Holy Spirit does still dwell and move among us. The Holy Spirit was not a one hit wonder as some may believe. The Holy Spirit calls out, gathers in, and sends out individuals and churches still.

Here are two places I’ve seen it happen:

It was March of my senior year of college. I chose to spend my spring break traveling to Jamaica with twenty-four other Hope students. We spent ten days working at the Caribbean Christian Center for the Deaf, or CCCD.

CCCD is a boarding school for children who are deaf. It is a response to the high per capita population of people who are deaf in Jamaica.

We spent the early part of our days working at the school to build new classrooms and repair security walls. But we finished our work by 3pm each day so we could play and interact with the children when they got out of class.

And though we had a unique language barrier to work through,
we laughed and played and worshipped together.
I learned to play Duck, Duck, Goose without speaking
and to play volleyball and communicate with team members who could not hear.

And I was able to attempt one-on-one conversations with some of the older students. Though my sign language background is limited, I had the most wonderful conversation with one girl in particular.

She got excited because I knew some sign and her fingers started flying. I had to tell her to slow down many times so I could catch what she was saying, but I enjoyed that conversation so much.

During that week and a half, we were gathered in by the Spirit despite our language differences – despite the fact that some of us knew a little sign language and some none at all, despite the fact that some of the children could read lips and others could not. We were gathered by the Spirit to be a community that laughed and worshipped together for those ten days.

A couple of summers ago, I was a part of another community infused by the Holy Spirit. I was spending a week at the Taizé community in the south of Burgundy, France. Taizé is an international, ecumenical community of brothers who have taken lifelong vows. Young adults from around the world travel there to become part of the community life for a week.

Visitors are housed in bunk rooms with others who speak the same language. The week that I visited, over 1,000 young adults were there, though it was a slow week. In this wide and varied group of individuals, only four people were from the United States and the other three were males. So I ended up living with seven other women for whom English was their second language, of many.

But despite cultural differences, we were gathered in by the rhythm of the day at Taize. Each person contributing to the community through chores and assignments in the morning; each person joining a Bible study group to learn and study together; each person given some free time.

Those things helped to structure our days, but worship was at the center of it all. Communal worship happens three times a day – 8am, 12 noon, and 8pm. At those times, everything else in the community stops as all are gathered together in worship by what could only be the Holy Spirit.

There would be silence – deep silence. And then, the service would begin. And the silence would be broken by a single voice that turned into a swelling of a multitude of voices singing praises to God, praises in Latin and English and Spanish and German and French and Italian.

The unfamiliar words were awkward in my mouth, but the worship was familiar – all being directed to the Lord who would move through the world in a mighty rushing wind, who would gather together such a diverse group of people to fill that place and in so doing, fill them with the Holy Spirit.

May we be gathered by that Holy Spirit this morning –
gathered as those who
struggle for justice,
work for peace,
take risks,
love God and neighbor,
and follow Christ’s example.

May we be gathered by the Holy Spirit as Lakeview Presbyterian Church;
gathered as the one body of Christ;
gathered together as the disciples on that first Pentecost –
amazed and astonished by the movement of the Holy Spirit.

May it be so. Amen.

Faith Like a Child

Sunday, April 29, 2007
Youth Celebration Sunday
John 21:1-19

When you walked in this morning, you might have noticed some things that are different. Colorful balloons float in the air, posters adorn the walls, some of the furniture has been slightly rearranged. In general, things are a little bit brighter and more cheery and more open.

Yet we continue with our worship service as normal. Even with a few things different, we find comfort in the things we know, the things we have come to expect – there will be a great piano duet from Fran and Hilton, there’ll be scripture and a sermon, and some hymns. We will take a long time to pass the peace and greet one another. And that regular rhythm of worship can be familiar and comforting. Even when a few things are new and different.

That comfort is what the disciples are looking for in this morning’s scripture. Their world has been turned upside down and back again. Jesus was condemned to death, crucified on a cross, and laid to rest in a tomb. Jesus’ body was missing and there was news he had been seen by Mary. And then Jesus himself appeared to the disciples and offered them his peace. But then, in a whirlwind moment, Jesus was gone again.

What do the disciples do now? Who will lead them? How do they find a way forward? They return to what is comfortable. They go back to what they know. They head out to the sea and pick up their nets and fish.

It’s what they’ve done for most of their lives. It’s what they were busy doing when Jesus first called them to follow him. It’s familiar and takes little thought. But the night does not bring a good catch. Even that one thing that was familiar and routine to them does not bring comfort.

Until Jesus appears again. It’s his third appearance to the disciples. Perhaps things are a little foggy that morning or the disciples are weary from the events of the past weeks and the long night of unsuccessful fishing, but the disciples do not recognize Jesus.

Nevertheless, he calls out from the shore: “Children, cast your nets on the other side. Try one more time before coming in for the morning.” And the disciples give it a whirl. Why not?

And they are overwhelmed by their nets that overflow with fish. Tons and tons of fish. And once again, their eyes are opened to recognize and see their savior and friend.

“It is the Lord! That’s Jesus standing on the beach. He’s appeared to us again!”

And I love Simon Peter’s reaction. He throws on some clothes. (I guess one usually fishes without them on … ) But he throws on some clothes and then dives right into the sea to start swimming back to shore, to get to Jesus, to get there as quickly as possible. In his exuberance and excitement, he can’t wait for the boat to row its way to shore. He has to do something right away to get himself to Jesus.

It’s not very logical. The boat could probably be rowed to shore just as quickly, though maybe not with the huge catch of fish. It’s not very sensible. Simon Peter and his clothes will be sopping wet by the time he is standing on the beach. It’s not very understandable or reasonable. He will only get there a little bit quicker than the boat, if at all.

In fact, Simon Peter’s actions, they’re downright impulsive and childlike. But Simon Peter is so eager to see his leader and friend again. In his mind, there is no other option but this exuberant greeting.

It’s a greeting that’s familiar to anyone who’s worked with or spent time with infants and young children. Last year at seminary, I spent two days a week with Amelia, an adorable little girl who’s almost two now. And we would read and play and giggle and sometimes cry (Amelia if she was hungry and myself when she refused to go down for a nap).

We generally had a great time together rolling around on the floor. But when Amelia’s mommy came home and she heard that voice and those footsteps, Amelia would crawl excitedly or run wobbly over to her mommy, forgetting all else.

And that’s pretty similar to Simon Peter’s impulsive action of jumping into the sea and racing toward shore when he realizes it’s Jesus standing there. As a matter of fact, it’s his childish behavior and childlike faith that drew me to his passage. Because it’s something that I think we grown-ups need to hear and remember and embrace.

For though grown-ups were once children, few of them remember it (Saint- Exupéry). O we remember the stories of childhood memories and can picture the neighborhood friends all right, but we don’t really remember that childlike outlook on life.

We’d prefer, as CS Lewis states, “to put away all childish things” and just be very grown up, to follow society’s standards for proper behavior.

Author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry illustrated this point so well in his book The Little Prince. While flying over the Sahara Desert, a man’s plane crashes. He is in the middle of nowhere. While attempting to fix the engine and make the plane usable to leave the desert, a small person appears as if out of nowhere. And the man is introduced to the little prince.

The little prince is the most extraordinary small person, with golden hair the color of wheat. He has the questioning innocence of a child coupled with the wisdom of one wise beyond his years.

The little prince, originally from Asteroid B-612, tells grand stories of the people he has met in his travels. They have all been grown-ups and sadly they have not understood what the matters of true importance are. The little prince explains, “Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.”

Like how a mass of scribbles of some color is a magical kingdom. Or how the couch can become a fort in the wilderness. Because why wouldn’t it be?

And so, few grown-ups remember that childlike trust and belief are actually a gift. To be satisfied with simple answers, to not have to have everything proven by numbers and facts and proper sources.

Because there is no concrete proof for faith in God. There are a lot of grand stories and tales of miracles and reasons to believe, but there’s no absolute, 100%-guaranteed proof. Because that’s the nature of faith – depending with childlike trust on what cannot be perfectly explained or seen with the eyes, saying “yes” to holy mystery that cannot be fully clarified.

It’s that moment of coming to the edge of all that you know and trusting that one of two things will happen: there’ll be something to stand on in that next step or you will be taught to fly, to soar with the faith of a child. It’s that moment of seeing your savior across the sea and jumping into the water to swim to him as fast as possible.

And then it’s helping others to do the same. After a picnic on the beach of fresh fish and some loaves of bread, Jesus says to Simon Peter, “Do you love me?” And Simon Peter replies readily, “Yes Lord, you know I love you.” “Well then, feed my lambs, care for my sheep.”

Jesus asks this question not once, but three times. And by the third time, I can picture Simon Peter, with his childlike exuberance from moments before, standing up and saying “Lord you know everything. So yes, Jesus, I love you this much,” flinging his arms wide open as children are prone to do.

Yet after answering Jesus’ question three times, Simon Peter also understands. If he loves Jesus “this much,” that love has to be put into action so others can know and love Jesus “this much” too.

And in the church that means we teach the faith, we grow in our knowledge and understanding of God, and we tend for the sheep and the lambs, the children and the least of these, the “have-nots” in a world of “haves.”

As a church, we’ve done that this past school year. Some of you have spent time with a child reading a book and discussing it or listening to an older child read back to you. Some of you have taught Bible stories and played games and done crafts and assisted with the Christmas pageant with the elementary youth. Still others have prayed for these ministries and supported them with your offering.

And in doing so, we have tended for the sheep, cared for the lamb and perhaps learned from the innocence and awe and longing of a child.

May those lessons not stop today.

May you embrace some childishness and take a balloon home with you. May you find ways to tend for the lambs among you. And most importantly, may you live with that trusting, easily believing, exuberant faith – faith like a child.

In the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer; Amen.

Hearing is Believing

Sunday, April 8, 2007
Easter Sunrise Service

John 20:1-18

It is the third day.

For Mary Magdelene and the other disciples
time might have been flying by
or slowly marching onward
as they continued to contemplate
what they had seen and heard over the past week.

How did it all fit together?
Had only a handful of days passed?
Had it all really happened?

How could Jesus,
the one who had healed so many of the sick and lame,
the one who had come into town on a donkey,
the one who had just broken bread with them,
how could that Jesus really be dead?

But he is.
“It is finished.”
His body has even been laid in a tomb.
A stone has been rolled in front of it.

But it is the third day,
and Mary, who has risen while it is still dark,
(much like us today)
is drawn to the tomb.

Perhaps she goes to anoint Jesus’ body with more oils;
or to continue her period of mourning;
maybe she just wants to sit outside the tomb and keep watch.

Regardless, she expects to find death there.
But she finds something that seems even worse –
the stone has been rolled away.


The stone that was supposed to protect Jesus’ body.
Who could have done this?
Who would do such a thing?

Mary turns on her heel and leaves to tell the others.
They are little help.
Simon Peter and the other disciple race to the tomb.

The stone really has been rolled away.
They peer in and see that the tomb really is empty.
But then they return home.

And in the early hours of the third day,
Mary is left alone … outside the tomb … weeping.

For everything she sees points to
a friend who is dead and whose body is now missing:
a stone removed from the tomb;
the linen wrappings lying there;
the cloth that had covered a sacred head there also;
two angels in white.

And it all just adds to her weeping and her grief and her mourning.

Until a word – the Word – shatters the illusion.
“Mary,” Jesus says.
It’s enough to make her turn around
and take a second look at the gardener.

“Mary.”
It’s a voice she knows.
And with that one word, Mary recognizes him.

Suddenly, she knows; she really knows.
It isn’t the gardener standing before her.
This is her Teacher; this is her dear friend; this is Jesus!

And Mary begins to see.
Hearing has helped her to believe.

Jesus is alive!
Christ has risen from the dead!

It wasn’t what she expected, even though he talked about it.
It wasn’t what she anticipated that early morning.
This is something genuinely new and radical,
and only possible with God.

Those things she had seen earlier –
the empty tomb and the linen clothes and the head wrapping –
they didn’t mean that someone had stolen the body.

They were signs that God had defeated death.
Christ had been raised from the dead.
And now that Mary gets it,
she wants to hold on to him.

But Jesus tells her no.
His place is on the right hand of the Father.
And Mary knows that is true.

She sets off to find the other disciples.
To tell them what she has heard,
the thing that has enabled her to believe her eyes:

“Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!
And he called me by name!

“He knew I didn’t yet understand what had happened;
and he called my name to make sure I got it.
Christ has been raised from the dead!”

Indeed, Christ has been raised from the dead!

And that Christ who appeared in the garden outside the tomb
and called Mary by name that first Easter morning,
is the Christ who still calls us by name.

He is the one who knows his own –
each weeping woman, every doubting disciple;
each tired follower, every joyful worshipper –

Christ is the one who knows each of his own
and calls out to them,
calls out to us.

Christ calls each one of us by name.
And with that single word,
we, who were nobodies, have been named and called anew –
we are children of God.

Children of God who have heard the voice of Jesus –
the voice of the One who knows us and calls us.

Calls us to celebrate and sing and dance.
Calls us to worship and praise and honor God.
Calls us to remember and hear the story anew.

But Jesus does not call us here for just a single revelation;
Jesus also commands us to go and speak –
to become proclaimers of the Word –
like Mary that first Easter morning.

And in so doing, Jesus not only calls us by name, but also calls us on.
Calls us on to Easter living.
Calls us to spread the Good News.
Calls us to tell the story so others may also hear the call,
that hearing may lead to believing.

In the name of our Risen Lord and Savior;
Alleluia. Amen.

A Way Through

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Isaiah 43:16-21

Have you ever had to make your way through the jungle? Cutting back the brush, holding back the limbs, searching for a path of least resistance? Looking for a way to let some light into the habitat that is so thick and dense that it blocks out all of the sun’s rays.

Think George of the Jungle. Fighting through the thick of untended vegetation. Finding a new path in the wilderness of creation.

No? Well, I haven’t either, but I imagine its hard work. (Harder work than even Ed and Bill and Tom had yesterday as they tore down the fence that has become entangled in the bush on the corner of 13th Street. And that looked like really hard work.)

So, maybe we haven’t had to fight our way through the Amazon jungle …
but what about the jungles of life? Or the wilderness of Lent?

Have you ever been in that dry place, in that desert? And when you look around, all around you, all you can see is miles of hills of sand – an unchanging landscape. No relief. No trees to offer shade and a place to stop and rest. No water to cool you and strengthen you for the journey. Nothing but dryness and sand as far as the eye can see.

My family found itself in that figurative wilderness about 12 years ago.

My dad woke up one Sunday morning and had a little difficulty moving his left arm and leg. He stayed home from church while my mom took my brothers and I to Sunday School and worship. When we returned home, my dad’s whole left side seemed to be paralyzed. He had a difficult time moving his arm and leg at all by this point. My mom and dad rushed to the emergency room and my brothers and I were shipped off to the neighbors’ house.

And so began our desert living; that would be the trend for many weeks to come. My parents at the hospital, as my dad endured test after test and visit after visit from a variety of specialists; and my brothers and I getting shuffled around to family and friends and neighbors – not too sure or clear about what was going on.

And the tests would continue, and the answers would not come. And my mom would come home at night and weep on the kitchen floor, crying out to God to do something, anything … because living in the wilderness of not knowing was too hard.

It was not a place we wanted to stay. But as we glanced around, the terrain all looked the same. More pricks and pokes, scans and prods. And still no answers. Another night in the hospital. More tests and still the bafflement of what was happening in my dad’s body. Desert living – it’s not very enjoyable. But there’s no easy way out.

Eventually, the doctors would decide to do exploratory brain surgery. And when the doctors started to poke around in my dad’s brain, they discovered a tangled web of blood vessels; and we had a name for what was happening – a cavernous angioma and with the name, a little bit of water in the desert. Some relief.

Those blood vessels had probably been in my dad’s brain since birth, but that fall they had started to bleed on my dad’s motor strip, causing the abrupt, unexplainable paralysis and our sudden wilderness surroundings. But the doctors were able to remove it successfully and my dad began the slow process of recovery.

Rivers began to spring up in our wilderness. Hope began to blossom.

And that’s the same hope the writer of Isaiah is conveying to the people of God: today’s Scripture passage is a “proclamation of salvation” – it’s scandalous good news! It invites us to remember what happened the last time the Lord’s people found themselves in a dry wilderness.

It was during the exodus from Egypt. Difficult times indeed. But …

God showed up. God provided. God listened. God was there.

When all the exhausted Hebrews could see ahead was wilderness, God offered them some water. When all the worn out and worn down people could see behind was a land of slavery, a land that started to look good again, God offered them some shade. When all the chosen people could do was complain and sulk, God was there.

God was there providing nourishment – enough water and manna each day;
God was there providing leadership – through Moses and Aaron.
God was there intruding into their lives –
into their messy, often ungrateful lives –
providing a way where there was no way. A way through to the other side.

Through.

The Hebrew people didn’t have a non-stop ticket to the Promised Land. They had some layovers. Forty years of layovers in the wilderness to be exact. But, that wilderness was the way to the Promise.

Through it.

Because sometimes the only way out, or on, or forward is through.

And as I’ve been thinking about this all week – finding a way through –
a song with motions came to mind. Are you surprised?
It’s the childhood song “We’re Going on a Bear Hunt.”
Do you know the song I’m talking about?
Did you learn it as a child in preschool or at camp around a campfire?
If not, it goes like this
(you can join me if you know it, it’s a repeat after me song)

We’re going on a bear hunt. We’re going on a bear hunt.
We’re going to catch a big one. We’re going to catch a big one.
Oh, oh! Grass. Oh, oh! Grass.
Long, wavy grass. Long, wavy grass.
Can’t go over it. Can’t go over it.
Can’t go under it. Can’t go under it.
Can’t go around it. Can’t go around it.
Gotta go through it. Gotta go through it.
Swishy, swashy, swishy, swashy.

We’re going on a bear hunt. We’re going on a bear hunt.
We’re going to catch a big one. We’re going to catch a big one.
Oh, oh! Mud. Oh, oh! Mud.
Thick, oozy mud. Thick, oozy mud.
Can’t go over it. Can’t go over it.
Can’t go under it. Can’t go under it.
Can’t go around it. Can’t go around it.
Gotta go through it. Gotta go through it.
Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch.

And the song continues in the same manner,
as the bear hunters also travel through
a deep, cold river;
a big, dark forest;
and into a big, dark cave.

They travel through each of these physical barriers because there’s no other way forward – can’t go over it, can’t go under it, can’t go around it; the grass must swish at their legs, the mud must ooze between their toes, the river must rush over their feet. Because that’s the way to the bear. And so the bear hunters travel on and through.

And even though that’s just a silly childhood song
and we’re not going on a bear hunt through all sorts of terrain,
there's the simple message in it of having to travel through.

Because we also travel through:
Maybe not through thick, oozy mud or a deep, cold river,
But through the endless nights of worry;
Or through the lonely places of loss;
Or through the heavy days of grief and sorrow;
Straight into the depth of pain.

Through.

Through the illness, the changes, the divorce, the waiting, and the difficulties.
Through whatever it is that you may be facing this day.

We travel through this Lenten journey, also.
A journey that’s almost done.
Beginning in the wilderness and then on
through a parade of palms, a final meal with friends, a cross, and a tomb.

Through, but not alone.

For on the journey through whatever dry land
you or I have faced, or may currently face, or will face,
there is a gracious God with us:
a God who speaks and brings nourishment;
a God who acts and crafts a new future;
a God who creates something out of nothing,
a bright future out of a dismal present;
a God who is there.

For, in the desert and dry wilderness places of life, our hope is that God intrudes and walks with us on our way through. Water in the wilderness; a river in the desert. Our God does not abandon us in the wilderness or leave us to negotiate the difficult places alone. God is with us on the way through.

God was with my family on the way through – hearing our prayers, allowing our tears, enduring our questions, and carrying us through.

And God’s presence was not the only stream that provided some relief in the desert. There were also the prayers of family and friends, strangers and numerous congregations. Cards with prayers filled one whole wall of our kitchen. And the sight of that wall, that well of water in our parched land, helped us make our way through.

Through. It’s not the easy path. Over and around would certainly be better at times. Avoid the heartache and bypass the difficulties.

But that’s not the “proclamation of salvation,” that’s not the good news in the text this morning. The good news is that God provides a way through; makes a way where there is no way; opens our imagination to behold a new thing; and is our ever faithful companion on the journey.

For God cries out:
“Behold, I am doing a new thing! It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?!”
There’s a way through.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Let Your Light Shine

Sunday, February 18, 2007
Transfiguration of the Lord

Exodus 34:29-35 & Luke 9:28-36

The summer after 10th grade was filled with lots of firsts for me. That summer was the first time I ever flew in an airplane. That summer was the first time I ever traveled to Mexico. That summer was the first time I’ve ever been to a mountaintop that shone with God’s glory.

God’s glory – it’s a pretty mysterious wonderful thing. Kind of nebulous, something bright, maybe even shiny; probably beyond any human description. But we hear two attempts to describe that glorious shining in today’s scripture passages.

First, there is Moses. Moses – with his faulty leadership skills and lack of confidence in himself. But God has chosen Moses to be a leader among the people. And Moses follows God’s call, however hesitantly. Moses obeys God and leads the people out of Egypt and into the wilderness. Once in the wilderness, Moses follows God up a mountain. And there, on top of a mountain, away from the people, on numerous occasions, Moses encounters God.

Moses most often encounters God in words – in a new list of commands to relate to the people, a new set of rituals that will guide and sustain them, a fresh set of guidelines that will bring order to the chaotic masses. But in the midst of the commands and the rituals, and the rules and the guidelines, and the policies and the procedures (if you’ve read Exodus, Leviticus, or Numbers recently you know what I’m talking about) – in the midst of all that, Moses demands to see the Lord’s glory, to witness the Lord’s presence, to know that he really is not leading these childish people on his own. And the Lord reveals the Lord’s glory to Moses.

But after the flashing of God’s glorious backside, talk resumes. More guidelines, more rules. And then Moses receives the Ten Commandments on two tablets and begins to make his way back down the mountain. And Moses is unaware that a change has occurred in him. His face now reflects the glory of the Lord. His face shines because he has been talking with God – really talking to the One who has been Deliverer, Provider, and the Great I AM.

And the shininess scares people. Aaron and the Israelites are afraid to go near him. Maybe so as not to scare the people or maybe because Moses didn’t know what else to do, he begins a practice of putting a veil over his face, to cover this shining that isn’t anywhere near normal. And the only time that Moses lets his face shine is when he speaks with the Lord.

Moses isn’t the only one trying to contain the glorious shining of the Lord. Centuries later, Peter tries it too. Up on the mountain with Jesus, he and James and John are tired. Keeping up with Jesus’ traveling and speaking and preaching schedule is quite a feat. These disciples are barely staying awake when something miraculous happens and jars them from anything near a comatose state to bright-eyed and bushy tailed – for Jesus is suddenly radiating light. His face is shining and his clothes are dazzling white; he’s become the perfect image for a bleach commercial.

And in the midst of the radiance and the shining and the blinding brilliance, Peter stammers for something to say, something to do, some sort of worthy reaction. Build three dwellings. That seems like just the thing. Create a space where these giants of faith can stay.

But before Peter can think of a next step or form a committee to assist him, a voice sounds from nowhere and Moses and Elijah disappear. At this point, Peter decides it might be better not to tell anyone else about these crazy occurrences. They have left him terrified into silence. The disciples are already different enough for following a man around who claims to be the Lord. No need to add hallucinations, delusions, and disembodied booming voices to that.

Was Peter crazy? Sure, but probably not in the mentally unstable, needs to be in an institution with padded walls way. More in the way it takes to be one of the first followers of Christ.

Did Peter really see the glory of the Lord? Hard for us to say so many years later. We could probably explain it away with the science and physics of light refraction and reflection and the exact placement of the sun and the clouds on the mountaintop that day. But that doesn’t really matter. It’s a story in the Bible; it’s a story for us.

And when we’re left with these two stories of God’s glory being reflected in Moses and Jesus, two individuals, I believe God’s light does shine in people in miraculous ways. I’ve experienced it before. I experienced it during that summer of firsts.

All of those firsts – the airplane trip, going to Mexico, seeing God’s glory – occurred when I joined my church’s mission team and traveled to Tijuana, Mexico to stay and work at Colina de Luz for a week that summer after 10th grade.

Colina de Luz sits atop a hill over the city of Tijuana. Colina de Luz, whose name translated means “hill of light,” is an orphanage. And this orphanage lives up to its name.

The structure itself is a hill of light. It is painted bright white and stands out amid the earthy backdrop and gloomy city dwellings. But it is a mountaintop that shines with God’s glory for another reason. The staff and the children know God. More specifically, they know God through God’s Word.

Three times a day, before every meal, the director of the orphanage comes into the cafeteria to speak to the children and to drill them. Directions are called out and the children recite the alphabet forward and backward at warp speed. But beyond seeing how fast they can recite some letters, they are taught to memorize scripture, in both Spanish and English. They practice before every meal. Because God’s Word matters. It gives the people at Colina de Luz a light that shines out from atop that hill.

And rather than hide it beneath a veil like Moses, or try to contain it within the walls of a structure like Peter, they let their light shine. And it’s visible to all who visit there.

Now, I don’t know how many of you would say that you’ve had a mountaintop experience – a trip or a day or a moment when you caught a glimpse of God or witnessed a transfiguration in a life. And even if you have, maybe it looks different than Moses’ or Peter’s or mine.

Perhaps sometimes it is easier to see the light when we are in a different context. It was easier for the disciples, way up on that mountaintop, even as they were sleepy. That’s also where Moses began reflecting God’s light, up on the mountaintop, away from the complaining people with physical and emotional needs. Some Christians today have experienced God’s glory on mission trips and pilgrimages and holy retreats away from home. Places away from normal life, away from the busyness and demands of the world.

But the whole point of letting your light shine is that it can’t stay on the mountaintop, or be contained in a structure, or hidden under a veil.

The light must go out.

The light needs to reach down into the low, everyday places too. The light needs to be present in hospital waiting rooms and street corners, in homes and outside of our homes. The light of God needs to be present here today as we remember Pauline Thompson and find hope in the light of the One who rose from the dead.

So, if we’re going to let our little light shine in all those places and everywhere we go, we’ve got to meet God everyday – we’ve got to come face to face with the One whose glory we will reflect.

Now I’m not suggesting you go mountain climbing or hang out in the wilderness for a while or travel all the way to Mexico – but you could meet the Lord everyday in God’s Word, in this book, in the midst of these rich pages, pages that are filled with stories of love and faithfulness and grace, but also stories of trials and betrayals and mistakes, and still stories of redemption and second chances. Let the words on the pages and the Word incarnate so soak into your heart and life that it changes you, changes you so that you reflect God’s glory.

On the mountaintop that day, God’s booming voice interrupted Peter’s scattered train of thought and gave the disciples a command: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Listen for dear life. Listen to his words of forgiveness and mercy. Listen to his call for justice and peace. Listen to his promises of paradise and his words from the cross. Listen also to his first words after the resurrection, calling a bewildered and grief stricken Mary by name. Listen to Christ’s words.

For when we encounter God in God’s Word, our inner lights are renewed for the journey, whether that journey be up a mountaintop or down into the valley. And as we are refreshed we go out as mirrors of God’s grace and glory, bearers of God’s presence, to let our light shine in the world. For, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

God With Us

Christmas Eve 2006

The wait is over.
It is here.
No more time left for shopping or cooking or wrapping presents.

The wait is over.
It is here.
No more counting down or rushing around, at least not right now.

The wait is over.
The time is now.
It is the eve of Christ’s birth.

And we gather together to hear and watch the story unfold –
a story begun a long, long time ago,
one of the stories of all time
the story of a tiny babe born to Mary and Joseph,
a tiny babe that was born for us, for all of us.

And it’s a good story … one of the best;
because it contains miraculous, scandalous good news for us all.

So, we rejoice and we draw near to the One who drew near to us as God-with-us.

We join with the innkeeper and the animals,
the angels, the shepherds, and the wise men
and we gaze at the newborn baby
who lies in a manger.

We imagine becoming part of the Christmas story
(and if we are a child we do don a costume and become part of it)
because we want to be there
when the good news arrives!
when God arrives!

So we come:

Perhaps you come like the innkeeper,
overwhelmed with relatives and family, friends and even strangers at your door;
overwhelmed with the idea of having to find room for even one more;
overwhelmed with the memories of Christmases past;
overwhelmed with having to just get through;
overwhelmed and exhausted from running around.

Perhaps you are like the animals,
watching this thing unfold before your very eyes;
watching others invade your space and interrupt your life;
watching this new thing that has never happened before;
watching from the sidelines as you attempt to go about your normal life;
watching and unsure about the mystery of it all.

Or perhaps you come like the angels,
proclaiming joy from every mountaintop;
proclaiming good news for all people;
proclaiming a message that causes people to leave what they are doing and go and see;
proclaiming glory and peace and praise to the Almighty God in booming voices;
proclaiming and appearing to all those who need to know.

Perhaps you come like the shepherds,
surprised by a night shift interruption;
surprised that a Savior would come into the world in the midst of a stable and animals;
surprised that one birth would make all the difference in the world;
surprised that you have been included in this holiest of nights;
surprised and intrigued by an announcement that something amazing has happened.

Or, perhaps you come like the wise men,
following something that has led you to this place tonight;
following the worn path of a familiar journey;
following with others because it’s something you cannot do alone;
following with gifts and your greatest treasures to offer;
following and trusting in something beyond yourself.

Regardless of how you approach the manger tonight, come!
Come because
God is here;
God is with us as Emmanuel;
God is taking on flesh and bone;
because God is love and God is present.

God is with those who come overwhelmed and exhausted;
God is with those who watch from a distance;
God is with those who cannot contain their joy, but proclaim it for all to hear;
God is with those who come shocked and surprised;
And God is with those who follow and trust.

For Jesus Christ, Emmanuel,
did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

You see …
God chose to be with us,
utterly vulnerable as a baby;
completely identifying with pain and suffering;
fully human and fully divine.
God chose to be for us
in the form of a babe
born one night long ago
as a demonstration of unconditional Love.

And God chooses to be with us still,
God with those who have little food
and God with those who have an abundance;
God with those who have no family or friends
and God with those who are surrounded by loved ones;
God with those who are poor and possess little
and God with those who are rich and have plenty;
God with those who are counted among the low and forgotten;
and God with those who are well-known by all.

God chooses to be just such a God
that would dwell in the midst of
the innkeeper and the animals,
the angels, the shepherds, and the wise men.

God chooses to be just such a God
that would dwell in the world still today;
God with you,
God with me,
God with all of us tonight.

But not just tonight – always.
Because a birth in a cave leads to a death on a hill and a throne in heaven.
Because all of it stems from Love – great love.
Love that would not leave a world in darkness;
but would send a tiny babe right into the middle of it all as the true Light for all.

For God is truly with us as the Light of the world.

Thanks be to God for this gift. Amen.

A Different Kind of King

Sunday, November 26, 2006
Reign of Christ Sunday

John 18:33-38a

Have you ever met a king before? Can you picture a member of some royal family, all dressed up in fine silks and bright colors, with a crown of gold studded with emeralds and rubies on their head? Perhaps trumpets announced his arrival and all bowed as he walked past. Maybe there were attendants surrounding the king, protecting him from any angry commoner or subject as he sat upon his huge throne raised above the level of the common folk.

Such an image is not an everyday occurrence for us in the United States. We are not ruled by a king; in fact, our forebearers were trying to escape the rule of a king. But we are still familiar with royal language. We’ve seen the royal family of England on tv or read about them in the newspaper. As a matter of fact, my childhood scrapbook contains a newspaper clipping of Prince William on his first day of preschool because it was also my first day of preschool. At the top of this page in my scrapbook there’s a photograph of me standing outside Little Preschoolers wearing a plaid jumper and carrying a little backpack, and at the bottom of the page there’s a photograph of Princess Diana walking Prince William into his preschool.

If you haven’t followed the real life royal family, then perhaps you’ve at least seen kings and queens, princes and princesses in movies and read about them in books. They are always dignified, sophisticated, regal. They have crown jewels and golden scepters and they rule their kingdoms with absolute power and authority. What they say goes – no questions asked and no hesitation. And everything they do is interesting. Scandal and lies in a royal family are worthy of a major motion picture, while death and deceit in other lives are just part of an ordinary day. Yes, the title of king brings authority. Authority brings power. Power brings intrigue. And soon all are watching.

This morning we are watching Pilate in his exchange with Jesus. Pilate is an earthy fellow. He knows how the world works. The strong rule the weak; the powerful judge the actions of the not so powerful; status can be used for intimidation, investigation and interrogation. Pilate knows that this weak, beaten man before him is no ruler in his world. Pilate knows that he holds the power of life and death over this prisoner of the Jews. He also knows that this power has been given to him by the chief priests who didn’t want to deal decisively with this intriguing man.

Pilate also knows something about kings. Caesar was to be honored, even worshipped, as supremely powerful. Ultimately, Caesar held the power of life and death over all persons, including Pilate, within his wide realm. Pilate knew that Caesar’s authority rested upon his own shoulders. What he didn’t get was that authority and power of another kind rested on Jesus’ shoulders.

It was easy to miss. During the preceding night, Jesus had been betrayed by Judas and arrested in the garden by soldiers and officers of the chief priest. Simon Peter cut off a soldier’s ear, only to get berated by Jesus. Later on that night he would deny Jesus. Betrayal, blood, denial – sounds like the making of a royal family scandal. Yet, Jesus did not react as one would have expected a king to react. Jesus was bound and taken to the high priests for questioning. In the early morning, Jesus was removed from the house of the high priest Caiaphas and taken to the headquarters of the Roman occupation force for interrogation by the governor of the province of Judea.

And Jesus didn’t shout out that he wanted his advisors and councilors notified, that he wouldn’t say a word until his lawyer was present, that all cameras must be removed. Jesus silently obeyed and was transported around and through the Roman system. So it’s easy to see why Pilate is confused about Jesus’ status as a king. He certainly didn’t look like or react like anyone with power and authority.

But that’s because Jesus’ power and authority are different. His life hasn’t looked like that of a king. If Pilate is trying to find evidence of Jesus being a king, he has his work cut out for him.

• Jesus wasn’t born in the midst of a grand celebration, a prince who would one day take the throne. He wasn’t lifted high for all to see as lion cub Prince Simba’s birth was honored by all of the animal kingdom in the opening scene of The Lion King. Jesus was born in a lowly stable behind an inn with not even a spare room for a pregnant woman and her husband. His first days were not spent in receptions but on the run in the cover of the night.
• Jesus didn’t receive the royal treatment as a child – golden rattles, tutors and nannies watching over him, stories being written about his first day of preschool. No, he ran around causing his own mother to search wildly for him and he had a thing or two to teach his own teachers.
• Jesus didn’t keep company with all the VIPs of the nations and towns. His schedule wasn’t full of appearances and speeches and benefit dinners. Instead he dined spur of the moment with sinners and tax collectors and lepers and fishermen – those at the very bottom of the hierarchy of society, those with whom a king should never have to associate himself.
• Jesus wasn’t the marshall of any special parades … well there was that one, but even then he was riding on the back of a donkey. It wasn’t really a grand entrance.
  

And so Pilate asks, “Are you the king of the Jews?” because he’s heard some of the rumors about his life. Plus, this man is before him and he’s got to figure out what to do with him.

And Jesus replies to Pilate’s question in his typical fashion – with another question: “Why are you asking me about this? Have you heard what the others have been saying?”

Pilate is quick to deny any relation with the Jews. He tries a different question: “What have you done?” Perhaps he thinks he can sort this whole thing out by at least finding out what it is that Jesus has done to cause this uproar.

And Jesus declares “My kingdom is not from here.” The kinds of things you associate with a king are not the things I have done in my life. For I’m not concerned with having jurisdiction over provinces and soldiers. My concerns lie elsewhere. You may think that because I am here in this place I would be ruling here. But that’s not it at all. You see my kingdom is not from here. My people and I may be located here right now, but my kingdom gains it’s power from above, from God my Father.

And in his answer and its expanded meaning we see that Jesus is different than any king Pilate knows and any king we might know, and therefore his kingdom is different also. Jesus’ kingdom exists in the tension – the tension of his kingdom being “already” possible but “not yet” realized; the tension of his kingdom being made strong by its weak and marginalized members; the tension of his kingdom existing with more questions than answers. For all will be reversed in his kingdom by the power of the Word. And one day, this kingdom will be here on earth. One day this kingdom will come in this place in the way that it is in heaven.

And with Christ as King, the weak will become strong, the marginalized and oppressed will be lifted up and truth will reign. With Christ as King, we are all heirs … children of the King … part of the royal family. Like the children this morning, we get to wear a crown, too. And that means we can approach the throne of the king … because Christ’s throne is not one of brute force, high and mighty above the commoners; but of mercy and grace and strength, on exactly the same level as the people.

And all these things sound good, and they are good, but they are far from being normal and safe. Like the four children in C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe realize, the king is not always safe. In the book, four children are transported to another world, Narnia, through the back of an old wardrobe; there the children hear about the perpetual winter that exists in Narnia due to the evil White Witch. Only Aslan can put things right; for Aslan is the King; he’s the Lord of the whole wood, the King of the Beasts, and the great lion. The children are excited to hear that someone can stop the White Witch but are frightened by the description of Aslan, the great lion. One child asks, “Then he isn’t safe?” Their host, Mr. Beaver, replies “Safe? Who said anything about being safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”

Like the lion Aslan, Christ is good and Christ is not safe; but Christ is King and Christ reigns. And because Christ reigns as a different kind of king over a different kind of kingdom, we are called to be a different kind of people. We get some of the same privileges as the king – a relationship with the Father, a claim as royal heir. But as part of the royal family, we also inherit some responsibilities: serving others, loving our enemies, praying for those who persecute us, being salt and light in a world where it’s not always easy to be salt and light … in general, we must enact the ways of the kingdom that is not from here and only give power to Christ.

Because there is only One who reigns in power over all – Jesus the Christ. Remember that as we head into a season of waiting expectantly for Christmas. Remember that it’s not the advertisers or the media or the shopping centers or the best deals or Black Friday that reign supreme. It is Christ and Christ alone.

So, come these next weeks to worship – to sing and praise and lament and pray and be in community with fellow believers as always, but come also, children of the King, to a kingdom that is not from here, a kingdom that is not maintained by the rules of this world; come to see and discover a different kind of King anew, so you may live as a different kind of people.

In the name of the One who reigns in power, forever and ever; Amen.

Idols Idols Everywhere

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Acts 17:16-34

I’m not much of a sports fan. I played some sports growing up – basketball for a few years on the city parks and rec team and then in junior high I was on the school basketball and track team. But it was never really my thing. Dance was more my thing and I would consider dance a sport.

Now my younger brothers on the other hand, they were into sports, and still are. They played some basketball and baseball growing up, but mostly they played soccer, lots and lots of soccer. And they just loved and continue to love sports in general – following all the teams, memorizing all sorts of stats on their favorite players, blocking time on Saturday to watch the games.

I definitely can’t compete with either one of my brothers or Todd on that. But I do take an interest in some of the championship series, especially if the hometown team is competing for the top title. I guess I’m what one would call a fair weather fan. But I’m okay with that. And so I’ve been following the Major League Baseball World Series … because the Detroit Tigers were in it. And it was amazing that they were so good this year because in recent years they had done so poorly. I followed the World Series over the last week and a half and I was disappointed Friday night when the St. Louis Cardinals won the series in the fifth game and became the champions.

But I’m over it. I’ve moved on in life and I probably won’t care about Major League Baseball again until next fall and then, only if the Tigers are doing well. Yet for many Americans, the draw of sports does not start and stop so easily. For many Americans sports is an obsession – an idol constructed in the days of youth and pee wee teams and continued into adulthood; an idol that sits at the center of fanatics’ lives and rules schedules and dominates television and is so revered that it is worshipped.

And that idol is just one among many to choose from in today’s culture, for idols are grabbing our attention left and right. There’s the popular show American Idol on television which searches for the next great singer and lots of other shows that some fans follow more closely than their own lives. There’s the lure of academia – the classroom, learning and books – for others. There’s the idol of physical appearance, ability and image. And there’s the idol of high expectations and ideals, probably the idol with which I struggle the most. More idols are being added to the list every day; more images and representations of things and objects that if we are not careful could easily be turned into gods and worshipped.

Why is it that there are so many idols out there? … scattered among our cities and in the marketplace … taking up our time … eating up our money … taking over our lives … I would say it’s because we’re searching, searching for meaning in life, continuing a search that was begun long ago in Athens.

In today’s passage from Acts, Paul stands in the center of the city of Athens, the very heart of pagan culture and the very center of an intellectual university town; and he is unimpressed with what he sees. It is little more than a wasteland full of idols – so many idols that all of them are not even named. And the people of the city that Paul meets are searching, desperately searching for the next great idea and the latest cool thing and the up and coming idol.

And Paul stands in the middle of the crowd and addresses the people. First, flattering them – their impulse to worship is right even if the objects of their worship are wrong. Then, Paul presents the only true recipient of worship – God. He lays out the scandal of faith: unlike all those other gods the people are worshipping, the true God is not passive, only made of stone. The true God is living. And therefore, absolutely nothing deserves to be honored “before God,” as God’s people have been commanded in the First Commandment.

For the God whom Paul proclaims is not just another option for human devotion, not an accommodating God content to be one among many. The God who sent the Christ is still the Holy One of Israel, a jealous deity without rivals, an exclusive lover who tolerates no competition – money, ideals, institutions, sports, television, a jealous God who fiercely judges all idols made by hands or minds of humans.

Because God alone is to be worshipped and praised, honored and served. God alone deserves that level of devotion and enthusiasm. God alone is worthy. For God alone made the world and everything that is in it – the heavens and the earth; the sun, moon and stars; the waters teeming with fish and sea creatures of every kind; the sky swarming with colorful birds and butterflies; the land with its lush vegetation; the living creatures of every kind that creep and crawl along the ground; and us, humanity. The Lord of all creation is indeed worthy to be praised.

And not just because God so carefully crafted the world out of nothing. But because God didn’t stop there. The Lord of all the universe didn’t go away to hide after all that hard work; God began a relationship with humanity and ultimately came to earth as Jesus Christ.
God gave people a hunger for God, so they might grope for God and find God, even though God is never very far away from any one of us. For in God we come to life; in God we are motivated; in God we find meaning.

And as God’s children we gather as the body of Christ – this Sunday and every Sunday; as God’s beloved we gather as the church to worship the only One deserving worship. For the divine is not found in sports teams or the latest book or the highest ideal or the most popular television show – not any of the products of our own cunning and creation. It is found in God alone.

As we disperse we are called to place nothing on so high a pedestal that we are in danger of worshipping it. We can maintain an interest in any of a number of good things without worshipping them. For worship belongs to God alone. As God’s children, we are called to continue our worship beyond the songs and prayers of this morning, continue our worship when we exit the doors of the church at 11:30.

Many of you already do so. Some of you spend a morning or two a week volunteering at Operation Attack. Some of you serve as elders and work on committees to ensure that the work and mission of the church is accomplished. Some of you are committed to praying for the church and its members and friends. Others of you volunteer an hour a week to a child at St. Pete Reads. And still others give back in many unknown ways behind the scenes. God is being worshipped and served in this place. God is good!

As we start to think about the next year in the life of this church, consider how you might be willing to worship and serve God with your time, talent and treasure. Consider how you might think, meditate, remember, esteem, honor, adore, choose, love, desire, fear, trust, hope, delight and rejoice in the Lord our God.

For the Lord alone is indeed worthy to be praised. Amen.

Moved by the Spirit

It turns out that I preached the sermon I most needed to hear:

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Acts 16:6-15

How do you prepare for a journey or a trip? Are you one of those people who waits until the last minute and throws some things into a bag, hoping you’ve remembered everything, traveling with the philosophy that you can buy or borrow anything you’ve forgotten, or chew a lot of gum if you forgot your toothpaste? Or do you spend some time thinking about where you’re going and what the weather might be like there and the essentials that you’ll need, maybe even making a checklist to ensure that nothing is forgotten? Or do you set off on a long journey without any preparation at all, not even a final destination in mind, open to whatever may happen along the way, knowing that there are few truly essential things in life?

If you are traveling or flying anywhere in today’s world, chances are it’s not the third option. The Transportation Security Administration ensures that you think carefully about what exactly you are placing in your baggage. And if you’re traveling with others, chances are that you have some idea of where you’ll be going. So we plan and we pack and we are guided by space or rules or other people.

But Paul and his companions did not have the TSA to guide their packing or planning. Although, they probably didn’t pack much of anything to take with them on their travels. And they probably hadn’t planned on being part of the early church. So, they made do and found food and shelter along the way as they spread the good news of Jesus Christ. They were motivated and moved by a different source – not the well laid plans, rules and guidelines of another person or organization, but of the Holy Spirit. They had the Holy Spirit as their tour guide.

But the Holy Spirit didn’t lead them on an all-inclusive vacation trip. Their journeys were much more difficult than that – landing them in various prisons or in the middle of riots at times, as they preached the startling news of Jesus Christ’s resurrection and the inclusivity of God. But even beyond the message that some were not ready for, the Holy Spirit didn’t make traveling easy. In fact, sometimes the Holy Spirit blocked Paul and his companions from exactly where they were heading. Paul’s best laid plans were twice overruled in today’s reading as the itinerary is redrawn by the Spirit. First, the group does not speak the word in Asia and then it does not go into Bithynia in Mysia.

So Paul and friends, who have learned to be open to the workings of God in Jew and Gentile, are open to a guide that doesn’t show them where to go, but moves them instead away from specific places. These movements away could have been frustrating. They would have meant more travel – which translates into more walking, more nights on the road before a few nights in the same town, more wondering when the journey would end.

Yet Paul is open to the workings of the Holy Spirit. And Paul remains open to the Holy Spirit. And this time the Holy Spirit comes to Paul in a vision, in a dream in the middle of the night. And this time it’s not another roadblock; this time it’s a command given through the vision of a man from Macedonia, who says: “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” That’s it; short and sweet – the command to come and help. And immediately, immediately the group tried to cross over to Macedonia. Though it wasn’t in the plans and it may not have been the best time of day, or night rather, to travel, immediately the group follows the call and movement of the Spirit.

And so the group ends up in Philippi, a large city in Macedonia. And they remain there for a number of days. Nothing noteworthy happens at first, or at least nothing worth recording. But then Paul and friends gather together on the Sabbath for prayer. And the Holy Spirit is on the move again, because Paul’s group just so happens to head down to the river to pray.

When I read this part of the story, in my mind I begin to see a scene from the 2000 movie starring George Clooney, O Brother, Where Art Thou. Three escaped convicts are around a campfire in the woods when a nearby event arouses their attention. “Down to the River to Pray” is being sung in the background. They see a line of people all dressed in white robes weaving their way through the trees to a river. The escaped convicts who are on the run stand in the woods and watch as a large number are baptized. Two of the convicts are moved by something and run down into the river to be baptized also. They stand out among the crowd, splashing and running into the waters, dirty and smelly from days on the run from the law. But they both merge into the line and are dunked in the water.

And as crazy as it is to consider that movie scene where two rumpled, escaped convicts are baptized in the midst of an orderly group baptism, it is just as crazy to consider what Paul and his companions do down at the river. First, they talk to the women, women – those who were not considered important, but were low on the social scale. A radical step when viewed from the standards of society, but nothing new to those who knew Jesus and his concern for just those people that society shunned.

And then, through the workings of the Holy Spirit, God opens one woman’s heart to Paul and the good news of Jesus Christ. Her name is Lydia and she is baptized right then and there. But not just her; her whole household too. No time needed to ponder it all and consider the option. It was immediate baptism because the Spirit had moved in their hearts. And the Spirit could move in their hearts because they were open to it.

The apostles have opened themselves up to new possibilities. They are traveling on their journey day-to-day, open to where the wind might blow them, open to a transportation guide quite different from the standard. They are open to God the Holy Spirit. And the Holy Spirit isn’t about nice, neat, tidy travel plans. The Holy Spirit isn’t concerned with maintaining equilibrium, having everything balanced. The Holy Spirit is taking them all over the place.

And yet the apostles follow. They trust. They listen and obey. They are willing to be surprised by what the Spirit might do. And the Spirit will do surprising things – a number of them in a few short verses. The Spirit will lead them away from places they were heading toward and the Spirit will speak through a vision to lead them somewhere else. But still, they follow. And then the Spirit leads them to a river and many are baptized. And it seems being moved by the Spirit reaps many rewards.

However, allowing one’s self to be moved by the Holy Spirit isn’t easy. The Holy Spirit travel plan seems pretty discombobulated and unorganized. It may leave us wondering: Is that really what we signed on for when we said “we believe?” Is that really part of our faith today? But, yes it is. It is part of the messiness of being a follower of Jesus Christ. The barriers and rules that hold in world do not hold in the church and do not hold for the Holy Spirit.

And that means the Holy Spirit moves in our lives – guiding and sustaining us, yes, but also pushing and pulling us in new directions, if we are open to it. So how are we open to it? It’s difficult because it’s not something concrete, something that can easily be seen or done. It’s more of a posture of receptiveness. But that doesn’t mean it’s passive. The posture has to be nurtured and given space to develop.

So how do we acquire a posture of receptiveness? We remain in tune with God. We remain open to being pushed and pulled, being tugged here and there, being blocked and called because the Holy Spirit is on the move. And it won’t be any easy thing. The travel to the end destination may look haphazard and chaotic and unbalanced, but the Holy Spirit that came down upon the disciples at Pentecost is not about order.

So keep your eyes, ears, and heart open to the ever mysterious workings of the Holy Spirit in the world today. Be open to being blown in a new direction. Remain open to new experiences. Open yourself to others. Just let the movement begin.

In the name of the One who creates and guides us all; Amen.