Wasted?

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Love Never Ends

My last sermon for Presbury UMC.

Scripture:

1 Corinthians 13:1-3, 8-13 (NRSV)

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

...

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

2 Corinthians 13:11-13 (NRSV)

Finally, brothers and sisters, farewell. Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the saints greet you. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.

Sermon:

Let us pray:

Patient teacher, we give you thanks. We should always start with thanks because no matter how weak our faith or how slim our hope, we always have your love. So we thank you. And we ask through the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts this morning that you may help us always to name that love and be part of that love ourselves this day and always. Amen.

How many of you like love stories? Me too! In the famous romance story Star Wars, the first time Han and Leia express their love for one another, it went a little something like this:

That is true love right there. What does it have to do with our scripture from 1^st and 2^nd Corinthians? Nothing, I just wanted to make a Star Wars reference in my goodbye sermon to all of you.

Anyway, love stories have been on my mind as I prepared to say goodbye to all of you. Not romantic ones, except for Star Wars of course. Even though this 1 Corinthians 13 passage is frequently used at weddings, the love it describes is not a romantic love in the least. The apostle Paul who wrote this letter to the early Corinthians church was not the most romantic guy. He wanted us to understand at least a little bit the kind of love that God has for us. You see, romantic love may inspire us, spark something within us, but it is not stable. It must be grounded in commitment if it is to endure any length of time, and even then it does not always last. But that doesn't mean love, the love that God has used as the foundation of our being, the love God has taught us through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the love that God offers us each and every day through the movement of the Spirit, is not stable. In fact, the scripture verse that keeps coming to mind is the last from this chapter: And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

I talked about faith not long ago. I said that it was more than just believing something to be true. Intellectually, we may know something to be true, but that doesn't always mean that we no longer have doubts in our hearts. Nor is faith the trust that the storms in life will pass or reveal a greater gift. Faith is about leaning into the presence of God even when we are afraid.

And yet, that is easier said than done.

I talked about hope just last week. About how hope can disappoint us, but when it does it is not the hope God is calling us to. God is not calling us to a specific outcome, to be postivie or optimistic. God is calling us to act into the possibilites for good that God is constantly creating.

And yet, still it is hard to hope.

But the greatest of these is love. That's what Paul tells us. In fact, he writes that is all you have is hope, that is not enough. He writes that if all you have is faith, you are nothing. He writes, If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. It almost sounds harsh. But my experience is that this love is what sustains us when our faith slips. Love is what holds onto hope when we no longer can. Love can transform us in the darkest hour of our lives because love never ends.

In the last four years I have been your pastor, I have seen the transformational power of love through this church. I have watched when I bring one of you with me to see someone in the hospital or at home, and I have seen their whole faces change. Sure it means a lot to have the pastor come visit, but to have a fellow church member come visit, someone you have known for years, that means something even more. I have watched as you have offered help to one another, whether it is a ride somewhere or letting someone stay with you. One person told me this week that even though she doesn't have biological family in Edgewood anymore, people in church have adopted her and become her family, taking her to doctor's appointments, bringing her meals, and helping her find someone to help around the house. Another told me he introduces members of the church as his siblings because that's how connected he feels. I have been witness to the transforming power of love as our youth have gone on mission trips and as our children have played with a Muslim youth group. I have watched people sit and listen with our guests experiencing homelessness at the shelter, offering them anointing for healing. I have watched you love one another as Jesus loved us, which was the commandment he gave to us before his death and resurrection in the Gospel of John.

I, too, have been on the receiving end of that love. When I came to Presbury, I'd like to think I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to work. Deer Creek and Mt. Tabor had taught me how to pastor, and helped me to fall in love with the church again, and I was ready to get to know you and jump right into ministry. You put up with my hare-brained ideas, indulged my geeky-ness, and cleaned up after me when I threw confetti around everywhere. You welcomed Aaron, and even though he still considers himself to be a Baptist, he knows you are his church home. He felt included and valued and discipled here. And when we had the worst year of our lives, you were there, laying hands on Aaron to ask for his healing, sending us cards and sharing your own stories of loss so we did not feel so alone, and continually telling me you were praying for me. You caravaned to Washington D.C. to celebrate my ordination. You hugged us, laughed more with us that at us, cried with us, and continue to cover us in prayer. That love has lifted us up, kept us floating above water when we have struggled with our grief and anxiety so much that our own faith and hope have waned. God poured love into you, and you poured it out onto us.

Maybe using the Star Wars clip about love was not so disjointed after all. Me telling you that I love you may make you want to say, duh, we know. But I don't think you do know how much your love has carried us through. You might say that it is your work as the church to love. And it is. But churches are not often described as loving places, but rather as places of judgment and hypocrisy. But even when we fall short here at Presbury, we are still a loving community, trying to learn to love better. So thank you--- which incidentally was my response to Aaron when he first told me he loved me. But that's another story.

Love doesn't always get the words right, the way that faith tries to. Love doesn't work toward vision of what the future will hold, the way faith does. Love is. We know only in part, as Paul reminds us. But love reminds us that we are fully known by God, in all our struggles, in our defeats, in our joys, and God loves us.

God expresses that love to others through us. Our world is in such need of the love that is crammed into the people in this building. After a week of news of mass shootings at even a congressional baseball game wondering when it will be difficult for people who should not have guns to get guns, of yet another trial in which a murder of a black man is seen as inconsequential when the officer who killed Philando Castile was acquitted, and yet another trial that reminds us why so few people report sexual abuse that ended with a deadlocked jury because can women be believed over a rich, powerful man? And that's just the news. What hurt is here in our church, here in our community? Such hurt cannot be healed except with love. You have shown it to me and to one another. You have shared it in service and in mission. And you need to keep on sharing it now, with your new pastor Tiffany, with your siblings in this new church partnership at Cranberry, and with all of Edgewood. Because you never know who is feeling drained of their faith and hope and in need of a little love to remind them why they are on this earth in the first place. You yourself may be in that position. Your faith may feel a little shaky, like mine has, especially since Aaron's mom died. Your hope may flicker like it is going out, like mine has through this whole journey of infertility and miscarriage. As you face this new transition with a new pastor and a new partner church, your faith and hope may be solid but you may still be nervous and anxious. But love never ends. You only have to turn to one another to find the love that God pours out through us.

Thank you for the ways you have been part of my love story with God. And for allowing me to be part of yours. I look forward to seeing how the story continues with Pastor Tiffany and continues as Aaron and I go to Calvary. When Paul wrote the second letter to the Corinthians, he gave them farewell advice. It's short advice, and good, but my advice for you is simply to love one another. For, as Paul wrote to the Corinthians and I am sure is true for you, the God of love and peace will be with you. Always. Amen.

Hide and Seek: A Sermon on Creation and the "Fall"

A sermon preached at Presbury United Methodist Church.

Scripture: Genesis 2:4b-7, 15-17; 3:1-8 (NRSV)
In the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens, when no plant of the field was yet in the earth and no herb of the field had yet sprung up—for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was no one to till the ground; but a stream would rise from the earth, and water the whole face of the ground— then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being
…
The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.”
…
Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’“ But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”


So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves. They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.


Sermon: Hide and Seek
Let us pray:

Patient teacher, we give you thanks for the breath that you have breathed into us this day and every day, and for the beauty of your creation. But we confess that we forget your goodness and beauty and try to hide away from you, afraid. Breathe into us anew this morning, that the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts might reveal again to us your glory. Amen.

Picture from @loubielouwho on Instagram

I love playing hide and seek or peek-a-boo with small children. I love how they think that if they can't see you, that you also cannot see them. Like they disappear. I love their delighted laughter when their eyes are opened and they are found again, or when they find you. I read a news article about a scientific study of peek-a-boo. Apparently, scientists and researchers were trying to figure out what makes this game such a fundamental part of human existence--- it crosses cultural boundaries, historical eras, everything. As part of their study, “most of the time the peekaboo game proceeded normally, however on occasion the adult hid and reappeared as a different adult, or hid and reappeared in a different location.” Trick peek-a-boo. Older kids loved this, loved the surprise, but it turns out that the younger a child is, the less funny they think trick peek-a-boo is. Developmental psychologists believe that the reason why younger babies don't like trick peek-a-boo is that the game “isn't just a joke, but helps babies test and re-test a fundamental principle of existence: [object permanence, to use science-y language, or] that things stick around even when you can't see them.”¹ Even when we disappear, or we think we disappear, we are not lost forever. 
 
But, as much as we laugh about these kids playing hide-and-seek behind poles and sticking out from beneath pillows, they are not so different from those of us who are older. And they are not so different from the man and woman in the Garden of Eden, who heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time and the evening breeze, and they hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees in the Garden. 
 
Now some of you might chuckle with me at the image of the first humans hiding from God like the kids from these pictures.² But even if you are, you may be wondering how the metaphor of hide-and-seek works with our scripture today. After all, the children playing hide and seek that we laugh at are not hiding in fear. We are talking about funny Buzzfeed lists, not crime shows where we find children hiding under the bed as their parents are dragged away. When we read this scripture, we tend to read it as the first humans making a huge mistake and hiding from God in fear, worried they have displeased and disappointed their creator and really their companion. We read it and label it with words like Fall. 
 
I do not deny that this story can be seen as a story of disobedience and punishment. If you just read through the next few verse after where we stopped today, the punishment motif is pretty darn strong. But I want us to read the story differently today. I want us to read it with new eyes and to notice the grace in this story that we usually do not notice. And I think that grace is hinted at in verse eight, when God is walking in the Garden at the time of the evening breeze.

Notice in this scripture, God is described as breathing, walking, and talking more like a superhero than the Spirit we usually imagine when we imagine God. The presence of God is physical in this story. God is physically breathing into the nostrils of the creature God made from the dust of the ground. God is physically laying that creature down as he sleeps deeply and removing a rib to fashion into another creature. God is not perceived physically as the serpent speaks, not passing the fruit around as the woman and man eat, not sewing fig leaf loincloths alongside the man and the woman when they realize they were naked. God is not perceived to be there physically when they hide. 
 
But does that mean God was not there? Just because we do not see or feel God, does that mean that God is not there? When our hands cover our own eyes, does that mean God has disappeared? When we hide, does that mean we have disappeared before God? Does the principle of object permanence--- that things stick around even when you can't see them--- apply to God?

Today in worship, we are celebrating baptisms, and, in our tradition, baptism is an affirmation of God's object permanence. Well, it's more than that, more than just that God sticks around even when you can't see God. Baptism is also an affirmation that God continues to work on us, continues to transform us by grace, even when we think we are hiding from God. 
 
The language we use for baptism is the language of new life, that we have died to sin and are now given new life. We ask those candidates for baptism or their sponsors if we are baptizing babies, “Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin?” When I met with Leah and Gracie and Ben, I asked if when they answer, I do, to that question, and get baptized if that meant they would never get caught up in the spiritual forces of wickedness, or experience evil, or sin every again. To which they answered that yeah, they probably would sin again. So does that mean if they sin that their baptism is invalidated? If that were the case, we'd need Ms. Janice back here with her supersoaker shooting us with baptismal water every week!
When we are baptized, we are acknowledging that God's grace is always at work in us. We have the knowledge of Good and Evil, our eyes are opened, but unlike what the serpent said, we are not like God. We still need God. So it is good that God sticks around even when we think we have it all figured out, or we get so stressed or sad or mad we ignore God, or even when we are ashamed and we don't know what to do. Baptism acknowledges our constant need of God's grace and affirms God's presence constantly with us. 
 
The first humans, dressed in fig leaves, hid among the trees of the Garden. But I wonder sometimes if it was less because they were afraid and more because they were testing a fundamental principle of existence: will God still seek us out, even when we do the things God tells us not to do? They did not realize God was already with them as they ate of the fruit and as their eyes were open. They did not realize God was with them even as they hid. But God called out to them anyway.

We stopped our scripture reading this morning at verse eight, but I want to continue onto the next verse:
They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?”

Even when we hide, even when we think God cannot see us, God still calls out to us. So the question we are left with is, how will we respond to that call?
 

1See Tom Stafford, “Why All Babies Love Peek-a-boo,” 18 April 2014, BBC Future, accessed 27 August 2016, http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20140417-why-all-babies-love-peekaboo.


2See https://www.buzzfeed.com/mikespohr/21-kids-who-are-absolutely-terrible-at-hide-and-seek?utm_term=.vopgjRxA1#.sn3Qz820y.

Running the Race: A Sermon on Faith and the Olympics

I am not a sports fan, but we had fun with this reading from Hebrews and the Rio 2016 Olympics. This is a sermon preached at Presbury United Methodist Church.


Scripture: Hebrews 11:29-12:2 (NRSV)
By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land, but when the Egyptians attempted to do so they were drowned. By faith the walls of Jericho fell after they had been encircled for seven days. By faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish with those who were disobedient, because she had received the spies in peace.  

And what more should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets— who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, quenched raging fire, escaped the edge of the sword, won strength out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received their dead by resurrection. Others were tortured, refusing to accept release, in order to obtain a better resurrection. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented— of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground. Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

Sermon: Running the Race
As we pray, we're going to stretch this morning. We are really getting into the Olympic spirit, today, folks. But prayer of the daily sort can be a kind of spiritual stretching anyway. You are reaching for God, asking God to change you. You are opening yourself to God, to possibility. If you don't pray, just like if you don't stretch, that does not mean you will not be successful, or that you won't experience God. It just means it can be a bit more painful, right. So today, we will pray with our bodies, stretching our spiritual muscles as we prepare to hear the word God has offered to us:

Patient teacher, (reach up toward the ceiling)
you know the weight and the sin that clings to us so closely, (cover head)
so we ask you to help us lay aside all that keeps us from you. (lay aside)
Wrap us up in your presence anew, (hug self)
open us to your Word, (one arm stretched forward)
and move us along the race set before us. (wave hands)
Amen. (reach up toward the ceiling again)

 
Now, I should admit that I am not a fan of running. Jerry says that he doesn't think there ever any reason to run unless you are being chased. I'm not even sure that is true. I have a friend from seminary who started running after she had children to set an example for them, to show them how to love their bodies and their potential, and she posts daily motivations and meditations about running. One she posted this week said, “Exercise is a celebration of what your body can do. Not a punishment for what you ate.” That has stuck with me all week. Hasn't made me start running, but has gotten all tangled in my reflections on the Olympics, on the encouragement in Hebrews to run the race set before us, and ultimately on faith. What if we looked at this race of faith as more of a celebration of what God can do, rather than to focus on the weight and sin that clings to us?

The community for whom the Epistle to the Hebrews was written were bowed down under the weight and sin that clung to them. They had undergone some serious persecutions for their faith, not like martyrdom or anything, but imprisonment and confiscation of property. In ancient Rome, you could refuse to worship the state Gods, but only if you were Jewish. Though we don't know for certain, the way the author writes, he seems to worry about this community converting from Christianity to Judaism.¹ The author of Hebrews sense confusion and also demoralized people and so begins writing this explanation of faith and who Jesus is. In our particular passage, we see encouragement. We see that “we can have realistic faith for our future because of what God has done in the past.”² This is the celebration! We celebrate what God has done and imagine what God will do.

The Olympics is full of stories of encouragement. That's the only reason why I watch what little I do--- for the stories. Usain Bolt is a favorite for NBC to talk about. He's charismatic, larger than life---this is an actual picture of him.³

Picture by Cameron Spencer

He crosses himself before he runs, but the way he does it, you wonder if he's really seeking to show God's glory or if it's like a lucky talisman for him. The story I wanted to share today, though, is not about his faith, but about how he trained last year with Brazil’s three-time Paralympic champion Terezinha Guilhermina ahead of the ‘Mano a Mano’ event. The Paralympics is just like the Olympics but for people of varying physical abilities. Terezinha, for instance, is blind, but boy she can run. She just needs a guide to help her stay on the track and in the right lane. “Athletes and guides are usually linked together by a tether, which must be made of non-stretch material, tied around the wrists or held between the fingers.”⁴ For this one particular race, Usain Bolt was her guide.“It was a dream come true,” she said. “He was a little uncertain at the start, afraid that I might fall over or that he would run too fast.”⁵ Usain Bolt uncertain is probably a funny image, but his participation in the Paralympics brought it a lot of respect and attention it already deserves, and Terezinha felt very honored by his willingness to participate.

Before hearing about this story, I had not known anything about guides in racing. Actually I know painfully little about the Paralympics, but the more I find out the more fascinated I am. In reading up on guides in running, I discovered:

The tether [that holds the athelete and the guide together] poses similar challenges to running a three-legged race, so getting the right pairing is crucial – the guide should be similar in height to the athlete so they will be able to match stride patterns as well as synchronising arm and leg movements. The guide will set up the athlete comfortably and ensure their hands are placed correctly behind the white start line. A good guide must be able to keep pace and also have the potential to run faster than the athlete, and it is important that they are not prone to injury. Using verbal cues, guides will instruct and motivate their athletes as well as making them aware of any bends. They can also have a crucial job in raising the levels of cheers from an audience.

This sounds much more difficult than what Usain Bolt does by himself, doesn't it? A lot more coordination is involved. Team work, but also servant leadership. Because here's the other crucial thing about being a guide: “Guides must not cross the finish line before the athlete, or the athlete will be disqualified.”

From Getty Images

And this image of a guide got me thinking back to our scripture today. The writer of Hebrews imagines the journey of faith as a long-distance race that does not begin and end with us, but really begins and ends with Jesus. “Jesus is the one who runs ahead, sets the pace...”⁶ to our writer. Jesus is the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, we read in scripture. The examples our lesson opened with today are from the Old Testament, and some from the experience of the ancient Christians, but they all center in this fact that Jesus has run the race for us already. Jesus is victorious already. So even in our struggles, we should have faith because we know Jesus has gone on before.

But I love the image of a guide to help us stay on course, as well. That is my hang-up personally. Sure, I know that even if I am grieving or grumpy or frustrated, God has ultimately been victorious. Jesus has already run the race and faced what I have faced and worse! I can look at the big picture of the universe and know that God is at work and is doing wonderful things. I have that kind of faith. But I struggle with the kind of faith to get me through the day sometimes, you know? And that is where I see that Jesus has not only won all the Gold Medals there are to win and is waiting at the finish line for us with a nice cup of water and whatever else people want after running a long race. Jesus has also come back to run beside us, not dragging us to follow his lead, not aggressively keeping us in our lane, but lightly guiding us, helping us to stay on course. And Jesus will remain beside us even if we insist on going off course, always trying to guide us back. If we have a false start, so does Jesus. And when we go to cross the finish line, Jesus is just behind us, cheering.

Which is less comforting than it sounds. Think back to the guides in the Paralympics. Running in tandem with someone is harder than running alone in many ways, at least in the immediate moment. Faith, too, is harder in the immediate moment. You have to be open to communicating. You have to pay attention. And your focus can't just be on the big picture, but on the steps it takes along the way.

Let's just look to the first example our scripture this morning gives us: By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land. The Exodus itself was an endurance race. The Hebrews were slaves in Egypt, enduring oppression and violence, until finally Moses, with help from siblings Miriam and Aaron, took up his calling to speak God's truth to Pharaoh until Pharaoh let the Hebrews go. Every step of the way, the Hebrews complained. They saw miracles--- the parting of the sea! But still they complained and let fear control them, creating idols, doubting God's provision. Where was this faith the author of our scripture today talks about? Where was the celebration of what God can do?

Well, it was there. In that one step in front of the other as they passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land. God was beside them as a guide, and in moments here and there they perceived it! Just by putting one foot in front of the other.

Faith to run this race is not about constant assurance and constant trust. It is about trusting enough to pick up your feet and move anyway. For Jesus has already run the race, and he is our guide at the same time, matching our moments and helping us stay on course. So let's run with perseverance. Amen.


1Bart D. Ehrman, “Christians and Jews: Hebrews, Barnabas, and Later Anti-Jewish Literature,” The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings, Fourth Edition, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 419-420.

2David E. Gray, Pastoral Perspective on Hebrews 11:29-12:2, Proper 15, Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Volume 3, eds. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 356.

3http://cdn-s3.si.com/images/cameron%20spencer.jpg

4Eleanor Lees, “Paralympics 2012: the guide runners,” The Telegraph, 8 September 2012, accessed 20 August 2016, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/olympics/paralympic-sport/paralympics-gb/9529080/Paralympics-2012-the-guide-runners.html

5Rio 2016 and NPC Brazil, “Usain Bolt runs as guide for blind Paralympic champion Guilhermina in Rio,” 19 April 2015, IPC Athletics, accessed 20 August 2016, https://www.paralympic.org/news/usain-bolt-runs-guide-blind-paralympic-champion-guilhermina-rio

6John C. Shelley, Theological Perspective on Hebrews 11:29-12:2, Proper 15, Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Volume 3, eds. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 356.

Mountaintops, the Force, and Faith: More Reflections on My Ordination

In United Methodist tradition, ordination happens at Annual Conference (you can read a summary of our annual conference here or here) through the laying on of hands by bishops. My experience was a blessing, especially because in addition to my wonderful bishop, the bishop who ordained my mother and another bishop were present. The bishop who preached the ordination service preached the exact sermon I needed to hear. But I also like how in other traditions the local church has more of a role in the ordination service, and how it is more personal. So the Sunday following my ordination, I designed the service with a nod to our ordination service to include my local church, Presbury United Methodist Church, who has had a pretty big part in shaping me as a pastor after all, and share my call story.

Scripture: Matthew 28:16-20 (NRSV)
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Sermon:

Let us pray:

Patient teacher, we give you thanks. We should always start with thanks because no matter how low in the valley we may feel, and no matter how steep the climb up the mountain can be, there is always something to give thanks for. So we do. We thank you. And we ask through the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts this morning that you may help us always to give thanks for your presence all around us. Amen.

In our scripture today, Jesus directs his disciples to go up a mountain. Mountains have great symbolic importance in scripture. One of the names for God that you will find in the Hebrew Bible and you may have heard in praise songs is El Shaddai. There are a few different translations for this name, especially some interpreted as a feminine name for God, but one of the usual ways we translate it is God of the Mountains. It is a name that symbolizes power and majesty, as mountains also illustrate power and majesty. Mountains are also the site where pretty important things happen in the lives of people of faith. Remember that guy Moses we sometimes talk about? Well, he was called to lead the Hebrew people to freedom when he was on a mountain. Later, he received the Ten Commandments when he went up a mountain, Mount Sinai or Horeb. In the New Testament, Jesus takes Peter and James and John up a mountain to pray and he is transfigured before them. His face and clothes glow and Moses and Elijah appear beside him. God speaks, revealing to these disciples that Jesus is God’s beloved son and they are to listen to him.

Throughout the history of our faith, even modern day history, mountains are synonymous with God’s presence and power. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s last speech given before he was murdered. He said: 

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live - a long life; longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. So I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

Powerful words. Mountaintops are a place of vision, where Rev. Dr. King saw the kindom of God or the Promised Land, saw God’s intentions for us and was moved to continue God’s work no matter what he may face.

So mountains are important physical and symbolic sites for us as people of faith. And one mountain in particular in our scripture today served as both physical and symbolic in the disciples own journey. At this point in the story the disciples are in a valley. Valleys we have also heard of before--- does the verse, I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, sound familiar to you? Jesus has resurrected by the time we get to our story today, he has appeared to women, and they've shared what he told him with the disciples, but some doubted. The pain and horror of Jesus’ death is too fresh. But no matter their hurt and confusion, they go up the mountain anyway, and there they meet the risen Christ. Some still doubt. But they meet him all the same. Jesus does what he always does. He teaches, gives them direction, loves them. Some of them are finally getting it. Some still aren't. But then he says: And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

I've preached on this verse before, and within the last two years, so it's probably bad form to preach it again. But I'm going to anyway. Because that's the key to everything. I am with you always. God is with us in the valleys and on the mountains. God is with us in our worship and in our doubt. God is with us when we are joyful and when we are despairing.

I have experienced this in my own life. My call to ministry, which I have also used in a sermon fairly recently--- it's terrible to be ordained for a day and already reusing sermons! Ah well. Anyway, my call to ministry happened after a sojourn in the valley. God had called me to be a missionary. When I was fifteen, I had such a transformational experience on a mission trip to Bosnia that I understood God to be calling me to similar work in my adult life. I planned to go to Cameroon to study abroad and my parents would not let me go, which felt like a betrayal by God since my mother was also my pastor. I studied abroad in France instead, and while that was an amazing experience, it was also lonely. I was confused. I didn’t understand why God would call me and then wouldn’t open doors for me to live out the call (now of course, as I go on our AppalachiaService Project trips I see God is, but that’s another story). All this to say: I was nineteen and in a very dark place spiritually. When I came back to the states, I lived in DC and would not have gone to church except someone told me just to try a church called Dumbarton. Dumbarton is a radical place, a church that explicitly welcome all people regardless of sexual identity or gender expression. This was a place where anyone could lift up personal prayer concerns and joys in the same moment one could plead for prayers for far away war-torn countries. It was a church where people could open up their hearts and use their hands and feet to do the work of Christ in the world. I joined their young adult group that met in the Methodist building on Capitol Hill to do bible study together and talk about science fiction. And even though I was still mad at God, even though I still didn’t hear God’s call on my life anymore, I felt myself moving out of the valley and slowly back up the mountain. 

An ordained elder attending the church who was working at a faith-based, non-profit invited me to Student Forum's MOSAIC service, which in that year was held in DC. MOSAIC is the young adult ministry working for a fully inclusive United Methodist Church. This is not just about sexual identity but about welcoming people of all backgrounds and races and ages, about helping us as a church to truly reflect the diversity of the body of Christ. It was there that I could no longer deny God's call on my life.

The lights were dim, the chapel small but filled with warm bodies swaying slightly to the music from the guitars. And my friend walked up to the altar where communion lay and she took the bread and broke it. It was rainbow challah bread. And at that moment I felt like I belonged, I felt that this was home. It was a feeling of completeness that I wish for everyone. And I knew in that moment that God was calling me to be like my friend, breaking bread and building community in such a way that all people feel welcomed and loved. 

Now, as I always say when telling my call story, there were plenty of times before May of 2008 when God called me. People in my home church will tell you that they knew I was called when I was in elementary school. My mother knew when I was in middle school. The agnostic and atheist I lived with in DC at the time knew it. Heck, I remember looking a little at seminaries when I was in France--- I knew it but just wouldn't admit it. This is how the call on our lives works--- and we all have a call, whether or not it is to ordained ministry. God is always calling us because God is always with us.

And there have been valleys and mountaintops since. My experience of the exam for becoming a provisional elder was emotionally awful and followed by the ugliness of General Conference 2012, I wasn't sure I was going to stay Methodist. And then I went to Deer Creek and Mt.Tabor, and they reminded me that God has given me gifts for ministry. They have a gift for teaching pastors, and they took a tired, nervous young woman who was frustrated with the church and even a little frustrated with God, and you turned her into a confident pastor.
And I have been in a valley since my miscarriage. Maybe even before, frankly, because of our battle with infertility before we even got pregnant. And I certainly am not far away from that valley yet. But the overwhelming love I received yesterday--- the cards and texts and messages and posts about the live stream on top of having almost my whole immediate family, people from my home church, people from Mt. Tabor, people from Presbury, friends from high school, friends from seminary, congratulations from colleagues--- that was a mountaintop when I heard again the call to go therefore and make disciples. People all around the world need to feel that kind of love, so if I'm feeling it I can't keep it bottled up! I need to go, therefore, and share that love.

Bishop King, who preached the ordination service, told us we have to keep moving. So that is my invitation to all of you. When you are in those valleys, keep on walking. Try looking for higher ground, if you can, but keep on walking. Because the Force is with you always. I mean, God. God is with us always, to the end of the age. 

 

A Forsaken God

What follows is a sermon on the Fourth Word for a community Seven Last Words service. Seven United Methodist Churches (with 6 pastors) came together to remember the crucifixion: Cokesbury Memorial, Presbury, Union, Union Chapel, Clarks, and New Hope Christian Fellowship UMCs. As usual, I wish I had more time to work on it...there are a few places that seem rough and not quite as pointed as I would hope. But the Holy Spirit spoke anyway. 

Scripture: Mark 15:33-39 (NRSV) 
When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. (34) At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!” 

Reflection:
Let us pray:

Even from the cross you are our patient teacher. You turn to scripture when words fail. On this dark night, when words fail us, may the whispers of all our hearts and the words of my mouth proclaim your love for us, declaring in the words of the Psalmist that, indeed, God has done it! Amen.

A teenage boy, childhood memories undoubtedly filled with images of violence and a constant undercurrent of fear, stands at the border between Greece and Macedonia in a makeshift refugee camp. He holds a plain sign with these words written across it: “sorry for Brussels.” But it is not an apology; it is a gesture of solidarity, for he, too, (better than anyone in Brussels) knows what it's like to be surrounded by bombing, to see the dead in the streets, to live in constant fear. And now he has escaped, only to find himself mired in a camp in which the “living conditions are poor, and children his age are suffering from dysentery, influenza and scabies. Food, proper shelter and clothing are also scarce.”¹ And now he does not only have to worry about his own fear of death, but also that he has suddenly become the object of fear. He can see it in the faces of those on the other side of the border, hear it in the anti-immigrant rhetoric that seeps into the camp.

And I wonder if his words don't echo Jesus': “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
And then someone else somewhere else says the same thing. Maybe it's because they've heard of another terrorist attack, or another innocent gunned down, or another child taken away from abusive parents. Maybe it's because they have heard about another family or community member overdosing. Maybe it's after getting the diagnosis of cancer or depression or Alzheimer's. Or after losing a job or a baby or a spouse. Or maybe they are the sole caretaker of a loved one and are feeling overwhelmed. Or maybe they are facing abuse from a loved one and keep hoping they can fix them. The list goes on, but the sense of abandonment is the same. You have felt it too, being cut off from everyone around you, even if you, like the young boy with his sign, are surrounded by thousands of people. You know what it feels to say, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus' cry on the cross, the last words he says before his death according to the Gospel of Mark, is a familiar one to us, even if we are not familiar with the story of the crucifixion, and even if we aren't familiar with Psalm 22, which is the scripture that Jesus echoes in this cry. Mark's community, and Jesus' as well, would have known Psalm 22. Without reciting the whole psalm, that opening line gives us insight to the anguish Jesus felt. The psalmist goes on to say, “I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my mouth is dried up...and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death” (Psalm 22:14-15). This is the depth of despair Jesus felt on that cross. Many times we "theologize" the despair, labeling this as the only moment when Jesus was fully human and not fully divine. For surely God could not be so powerless. Surely God could not be so like us. 
 
Besides, we don't want a God who cries like we do, feels forsaken like we do. We want a God who swoops in to save us, who breaks down the barrier between Macedonia and Greece for that young boy, who flicks away bullets Matrix-style from the bodies of young black men, who cures cancer and rescues the abused. We want an awesome display of power, complete with fireworks, worthy of a big budget action film.

But in that way, we are more like the crowd watching the crucifixion that day than we are like true disciples. We often think of the crowd as being bloodthirsty, wanting to see suffering, wanting to get rid of Jesus and his blasphemy once and for all, but the Gospel of Mark shows a secret desire within the crowd for Jesus to win. “The crowd wanted to 'see' a miracle”--- as someone claims when they say, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” They wanted to see a God who comes to us, crosses split in two, guns blazing, Roman soldiers and abusive religious leaders scattered in terror. But what they see instead is the Human One, the Word became Flesh.² Oh, we will get triumph and glory--- just you wait and see--- but it will not come as we expect it to come. Instead, Good Friday teaches us that God comes to us broken, feeling everything that we feel, even the very worst feeling any of us has ever had: that is, feeling forsaken by even God. That is incarnation. God does not just sample our emotions when God puts on flesh and dwells among us. God in Jesus feels what it means to be human to the very depths of how awful and frightening and lonely it can be.

So, even when we cry out, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” we are not really forsaken. Our God is beside us, knowing our pain intimately, crying with us, even when we don't realize it. Jesus is holding up that sign with the teenage boy, “Sorry for...” not as an apology for tragedy and hardship but as a reminder that he understands our fear and pain better than anyone.

We still want a God who fixes everything. Who overturns the oppressors, exchanges our pain for pleasure, and keeps the shadows at bay. The story, of course, is incomplete without Easter, in which we do find a kind of triumph and power.³ But for a moment, for tonight, I want us to sit with our incarnate God, God-with-us, and open our hearts to the one who knows our struggle completely. Because the point of Good Friday is not God's power. The point is God's presence. On Good Friday and every day God chooses to love us, no matter how vulnerable that makes God to us. Over and over again, God chooses love. What do we choose?


1Kathleen Wong, “In Wake of Belgium Bombings, Refugee Child Holds Up Sign That Says, 'Sorry for Brussels,'” 22 March 2016, News.Mic, accessed 23 March 2016, http://mic.com/articles/138647/in-wake-of-belgium-bombings-refugee-child-holds-up-sign-that-says-sorry-for-brussels#.hoNGTwV0t.
2Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark's Story of Jesus, Twentieth Anniversary Edition (Mayknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2015), 390.
3Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, “Palm Sunday,” The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus's Final Days in Jerusalem ( New York: HarperCollins, 2006), location 2409 of 3342.