Dive-bombing Pigeons and loads of Hot Air

There is an indelible image that I carry with me. It comes from a description of the Holy Spirit which one of my seminary professors shared with my class early in my seminary career that has forever changed the way I think of the Holy Spirit. It is inspired by Greek vocabulary, the biblical witness, and our understanding of the character and nature of the Spirit of God. And here it is:

While we often think of the Holy Spirit in images of a soft white dove, lightly descending onto a scene, blessing its inhabitants with grace and peace as when the dove descended on Jesus at his baptism, and while we visualize the Holy Spirit as many artists have imagined and portrayed her in countless works of art, again as a rather sweet, radiant white, harmless-looking dove, there is another image that is likely far more likely in tune with the nature of the Holy Spirit.

So, when I read this account of Pentecost Day and what it was like in that upper room where the disciples were all gathered, what comes to my mind is the voice of Dr. Carlson, in Intro to New Testament Greek, translating this text and rendering this image of the Holy Spirit, now imprinted forever in my mind. Rather than a white dove sweetly descending on the disciples that day, the Holy Spirit enters that room as a dive-bombing pigeon, swooping into the room with force, accompanied by deafening sound and a powerful, hot wind, blowing new energy and vitality into these followers of Christ. This Holy Spirit with its power and force is able to do what disciples of Christ cannot do on their own – equip them for mission they can’t even imagine they are destined for.

While he was still with them, Jesus promised his disciples that he would send an advocate. He promised that he would NOT leave them alone. He promised that he will, through his spirit, equip, accompany and empower them for mission in the world. Those are promises that can only be kept through the powerful intervention and presence of God through the Holy Spirit.

When you come to think about it the dive-bombing pigeon may truly be the best way to come to full realization of how the Holy Spirit can inspire, empower and thrust us into the world and into the true mission of God as God intends it.

Debbie Blue, in her book, Consider the Birds, A Provocative Guide to Birds of the Bible, makes this distinction: “The dove has come to seem banal and bland and cutesy as far as Christian symbols go. It has come to represent something polite and petite and pure. Maybe this has worked to deprive us of a more robust view of the Holy Spirit. Isn’t it sort of limiting to imagine the spirit of God as something dainty and white?” Blue continues, “We are made of dirt, according to the creation account in Genesis. We are full of bacteria. We each carry two to five pounds of bacteria in our bodies – two to five POUNDS. We could kill a dove with one or two blows from the back of our hand. We need a spirit that can handle us.”[i]

We read Luke’s account from in the Book of Acts: Suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them the ability.” And the people who witnessed this, people of many tongues, who could suddenly each understand the disciples’ speech? What was their reaction? They were amazed and perplexed – everyone was. And why shouldn’t they be?

The dive-bombing pigeon image appeals to me because it truly is how the Holy Spirit has worked throughout the history of the church and especially on that day – amazing individuals with abilities they never thought they could possess, surprising the world with unexpected gifts, disturbing structures of complacency and division, and always, disrupting the status quo, serving as God’s presence breaking into the here and now in and through the Spirit’s impassioned work, through inspired acts of love, dramatic acts of faithfulness and devotion, and encounters of grace and mercy with unparalleled promise. Jesus spoke at the beginning of his ministry, saying, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor,” the dive-bombing pigeon demonstrates to us that what God promises, God, in God’s abundance pours out, for the sake of the world.

Jesus came and stirred the fear and wrath and even hatred of those who were absorbed within the structures of human power and sin. But Jesus also showed us a new way to live – a new vision of the kingdom of heaven to focus our dreams upon – and a new covenant that included all people everywhere, a new commandment, to love as Christ loves, and a call to feed, clothe, shelter, forgive, pray for, accompany, and protect those who are placed along our path.

In his homily for Pentecost last year, Pope Francis, stated, “Only the Spirit can awaken diversity, plurality and multiplicity, while at the same time building unity. Here too, when we are the ones who try to create diversity and close ourselves up in what makes us different and other, we bring division. When we are the ones who want to build unity in accordance with our human plans, we end up creating uniformity, standardization. But if instead we let ourselves be guided by the Spirit, richness, variety and diversity never become a source of conflict, because he impels us to experience variety within the communion of the Church….. The Holy Spirit is the soul of mission. The events that took place in Jerusalem almost two thousand years ago are not something far removed from us; they are events which affect us and become a lived experience in each of us. The Pentecost of the Upper Room in Jerusalem is the beginning, a beginning which endures. The Holy Spirit is the supreme gift of the risen Christ to his apostles, yet he wants that gift to reach everyone.” 

Today we celebrate Pentecost, and the reality that through the gifts of the Holy Spirit, unity is not the same as uniformity, and diversity does not need to bring division. The spirit that was poured out on the day of Pentecost as the disciples huddled in the upper room, came swooping in, burst through the walls of fear and limitation to be seen, felt and heard beyond those walls. That same spirit is still at work in the church today, is still meant to be seen, and felt and heard well beyond our walls and beyond those of us sitting here today. God’s presence is breaking into the now through the Holy Spirit, and the ongoing work of the spirit takes place through us.

And yet we acknowledge that the work is long and hard and it is far from easy. We look at the state of the church today, and we wonder, how can this little church, how can I make a difference? How can my voice be heard? We look around and we see a pretty homogeneous gathering in this room. How do we welcome and embrace the kind of diversity that the spirit calls us to?

So, I invite you today to read the faith papers of our confirmands, printed in the back of your worship bulletin and you will see the spirit at work. More than one of them state that they certainly feel the tension created by an increasingly unchurched society and pool of peers. They feel it, perhaps more than many of us who grew up in what we now affectionately call the “glory years” of the church – when religious activities and commitment were held in esteem by our society rather than being judged by it.

These young adults feel that tension yet are committed to claiming for themselves the gifts of the Holy Spirit of God in order to live lives of faithfulness and to work for the good of God’s holy church in the world.  In a short while they will stand up and affirm their baptisms and claim for themselves the faith of this church that is calling them - and each of us - to mission and ministry. They will stand here and lead us all in reciting the creed that confesses faith in the God who works through adversity, in unexpected ways, redeeming us fr

om our sin, and granting us new life. They will lead us as we profess our confidence in the Holy Spirit who grants us identity, who accompanies, empowers and unites us in our work and makes it a holy offering to God.

This Holy Spirit of God blurs the walls of difference we create for ourselves. Then she opens the door and lets in the unfit, the sinner, the blind, the lame, the poor, the sick, the weak and the meek. Rather than pure white innocence and gentleness, this dive-bombing spirit of God in fact makes of us a fuller, richer, more varied and blessed body of Christ, equipped for sharing our individual gifts, working together for the benefit of the church and the good of the kingdom of God, for God’s sake.

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[i] (Debbie Blue, p. 6)

Quilts and Knitting Needles

John 17:1-11

A few years ago, when a friend of mine heard about some struggles I was having, she gifted me with this shawl. This isn’t just any shawl. It may look in construction like certain other knitted creations. I’m sure there may even be other shawls out there that look similar to this one. Perhaps there are scarves or small blankets knitted with the same kind of yarn from the same dye lot, with the same colors and patterns and texture. What sets this shawl apart is that it is a prayer shawl. With each stitch that went into the making of this shawl, came a prayer. The friend who made it knitted it in love, with thoughts and prayers constantly ascending, constantly floating heavenward, constantly encircling me as the yarn encircled the knitting needles. Those prayers connected us even as the yarn was knitted and purled in patterns of three, reflective of the Holy Trinity, row after row across the length of this shawl.

Many churches have prayer shawl ministries in which women and men lovingly and prayerfully knit together tangles of threads to form beautiful shawls or lap robes that are dedicated and blessed for the recipients. What I love about these ministries and about my shawl, is that long after the knitting needles have fallen silent, long after the last knot is tightened and the trailing yarns are woven into the finished shawl, the prayers and the thoughts that took place during their making continue to bless the recipient – in this case me – serving as a concrete, tangible manifestation of God’s care and the love of an individual or community who embody God’s healing grace for one in need. In the case of prayer shawl ministries, prayer shawls may be knitted, stitch after prayerful stitch, with the knitter never knowing who will receive the finished product or what that person’s particular need is. It doesn’t matter. God knows.

The gift of love contained in this shawl is reinforced visually. It is also tactile. It offers warmth. I feel wrapped in love when I drape the shawl across my shoulders. It serves as a reminder that I am not alone, that God cares for and accompanies me through each and every good day and bad day. It reassures me that healing comes in many forms, not the least of which, is compassionate prayer from another person for me – or from me for another person – or, as we see in today’s gospel, from Jesus – for all of us.

This is what we call intercessory prayer. Intercessory prayer reminds us that healing also comes through accompaniment – when we walk with another in and through prayer. Because prayer was at the core of all that is incorporated into the design and creation of this shawl, I know that faith in Jesus and trust in his care and healing were knit into it as well.

I have since moved a distance from my friend. Yet even though I don’t get to see her anymore, her love and care stay with me through this gift. Her heart and her prayers continue to warm me. Her faith in Jesus continues to give me strength whenever I see the tangled loops and threads of this shawl.

You are sitting in pews surrounded by quilts this morning, and in just a few moments we will bless and dedicate the quilts you see scattered throughout the nave. These quilts, like the shawl I have here, are created works of love. The fabric has been measured and cut, and sewn and assembled to make these beautiful quilts through the quilting ministry here at Grace. Distributed by Lutheran World Relief, these quilts will warm not only the bodies but also the hearts of those who receive them wherever in the world they go. They will remain tangible signs of God’s love and compassion for those who receive them. They will go with our prayers, held together by stitches of unifying grace. Through them, God’s comfort and protection will reach out and touch hearts.

Those who have contributed materials, those who have given of their resources, and the hands that made these quilts have worked together in a ministry of love and care, embodying God’s mercy and love and grace. They didn’t know who would receive these quilts. We don’t know the recipients’ stories. That’s okay. It doesn’t’ matter. God knows.

Prayer is powerful. As we enter into conversation with our Lord, we enter into the very presence of the divine. As we pray over these quilts and dedicate them to the use of God’s children, we remember that through this gift people see and experience Jesus. They may not even know Jesus. Yet they will experience him just the same.

In our text today, we read some of the last words Jesus spoke in the presence of his disciples. They are not spoken to his disciples. Rather, they are words that Jesus delivers as he is preparing to leave his disciples, words directed to God, perhaps with the intention of the disciples hearing them as well.  Jesus speaks these words, words of intercessory prayer, on behalf of his own beloved disciples – and us. They are words knit together as Jesus’ compassion wraps the disciples in the tender embrace of Jesus’ love.

Jesus often turns to prayer in the gospels. As in the scriptures of old, as with the fathers and mothers of our faith, as with the prophets and evangelists, as with the psalmists, as with kings and princes, blind men and sinners, prayer is the primary way to communicate with God. In our gospel text today, Jesus models once again what it means to be in constant conversation with God. Jesus shows us what it is to take to God with all his thoughts, concerns, joys, sorrows, needs, fears, and desires.

And you know, I think Jesus must have been Lutheran. Because as Martin Luther once said we should “sin boldly” always, Jesus prays boldly – and invites us to do the same. In this text Jesus boldly begins by first declaring and establishing for those within hearing, his unity with the father. Then he prays on behalf of his disciples. Jesus prays fervently on behalf of those he leaves behind for now. He prays for those who remain in the world.

We hear Jesus ask for protection on behalf “of the ones God gave him” and, in verse 20, on behalf of the ones who believe on their account—Jesus is praying and asking for us, on our behalf. Jesus is also praying and asking with us. Know always and forever, when we pray, we do not pray alone.  Even when we don’t pray, don’t know how to pray, to put into words what it is we need to pray for, Jesus is praying for us. Because, Jesus knows. Jesus always knows, even better than we, what to pray for on our behalf. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s a fairly powerful truth. To know that wherever we are, whatever we’re doing…whatever we are experiencing Jesus is there praying “Holy Father, protect them in your name”.

Each week in our announcements, we list the names of those we know to be in need of prayer, and we lift up many of those names in our worship. I know that many of you pray for one another regularly. Our intercessory prayers, the ones prayed for each other, for our country, and even for people you may not personally be acquainted with, unite us one with the other. United in this way, we are covered with God’s grace and care, to the glory of Jesus Christ.

Jesus is glorified when we come together in community to pray. Jesus is glorified when we turn to him in the dark of the night and pray. Jesus is glorified when we sit and silence and let the Holy Spirit wash over us in prayer. Jesus is glorified when we pray over yarns and threads and fabric, when those things are put together to make beautiful and warm and then serve to convey Jesus’ love and care for years to come. And just as the prayer shawl and these quilts are tangible witness to the love and prayers that went into their making long after the makers themselves have let them go, Jesus’ prayer in this text, stays with us.

May the Holy Spirit guide us as a community and as individuals, steeped in prayer through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ. May we be strengthened through this ministry of love, and in daily devotion to the one who was, who is, and who is to come. Amen.

Divine Utilities - Plugged In, Connected and Empowered

John 14:15-21

As human beings we are simply not wired to be alone. We are wired to be in, to live in, relationship, and I mean that in the broadest sense. There are many of us who, for various reasons live by ourselves. But we are connected through a broad range of threads drawing us to other people, and linking us in profound ways to each other. Regardless of which Genesis creation story you read, we are told that once God had labored to produce the magnificent creation, and before God was truly done with that original creative work, God went about creating humankind. First, God created Adam. And once God had set the first human in the garden, God decided that it wasn’t good that the man should be alone with only animals to keep him company, so God created woman.

For better or worse, from that time forward the nature of human kind has been that we are made for living in relationship to one another. We are connected. Even more importantly, we are made for relationship with God. Of course God envisioned and designed the perfect kind of relationships, and though we have challenged God’s vision and design over the ensuing millennia, still, God persists in building, creating and sustaining relationship with us and for us. And because connectedness is our nature, the opposite condition – being alone - frightens most of us. In fact the thought of being left alone, of being isolated and abandoned terrifies us.

It is that fear, I think, that drives us to thoughts of boogey men and monstrous creatures lurking around us when as children- or adults - we lay alone in our beds at night – that and a hefty dose of Grimm’s fairy tales, Disney movies, or whatever the conveyors of evil and malevolence are for you these days. There is security in numbers; there is safety in company; there is confidence within supportive relationships and networks.

In her book, Gospel Medicine, Barbara Bradford Taylor shares her experience of being the eldest of three daughters, and therefore the designated babysitter in the family from about the time she was twelve years old. Each time she would be left to care for her siblings, more or less the same scenario would play itself out. After receiving from her parents both the pep talk about how much they trusted her because she was so responsible, and then all the necessary instructions, including emergency numbers and protocols for what to do in case something should go wrong, she would walk with her parents to the door, where everyone would kiss goodbye. Then, Barbara writes, “the lock clicked into place, and a new era began. I was in charge. Turning around to face my new responsibilities, what I saw were my sisters’ faces, looking at me with something between hope and fear. They knew I was no substitute for what they had just lost, but since I was all they had they were willing to try.”

Taylor then describes how everyone would be agreeable for a while, as they played games and ate their snacks. But eventually, as the night went on they all got crankier and crankier. “Where are mommy and daddy?” the younger girls would ask. “Where did they go? When will they come back? I told them over and over again,” Bradford Taylor says. “I made up elaborate stories about what we would all do together in the morning. I promised them that if they would go to sleep I would make sure mommy and daddy kissed them good night when they came in.”

What made Bradford Taylor and her sisters fearful, was that something might happen to their parents while they were out. What if something bad happened to them? What if they were in an accident? What if they never came back? What if we are left orphaned? What will happen then? And that age-old, primitive fear took over – what if we are left alone? Alone to fend for ourselves in the world, alone without a safety net, alone without the guidance, love and support of the ones who have been the center of our universe? Abandoned and alone, what will we do?

As Bradford Taylor explains, as the sister-babysitter, it was hard for her, too, because of course she had her own fears. She was a potential orphan too, with as much to lose as her sisters. But she couldn’t give in to her fear because she was the one in charge, the one who was supposed to be cheerful and confident and sure of the future for her sake and for her sisters’. She was supposed to know all the answers. But fear stalked her, too. I think that there are so many parallels to our lives, too.  I wonder what instills that kind of fear in you?

This is the question that is at the core of our text for today. It is the question that certainly was on the minds of the disciples as Jesus is telling them that he will be leaving them soon. How can Jesus leave us alone? What will happen to us? What are they going to do without Jesus there leading them, guiding them, teaching them all there is to know about God and about this new life that Jesus is offering them? Keeping them safe?

What is it that the disciples need to hear from Jesus?

They need to hear that they will not be left alone. They need to know how they will live. They need to know how they will continue in this relationship with God, how they can be disciples once Jesus is gone from them, and how they will do all that they need to do as disciples of Christ. They need to know how they will exist once he is gone, and is no longer there to teach them, guide them, and accompany them. And, crankily, they want to know, how could he be leaving anyway?

Jesus knows what is in the mind and hearts of his disciples. He knows what the challenges of the next days will bring as he faces his arrest, passion and death. Jesus knows the confusion that will follow the discovery of the empty tomb. Jesus knows how frightening it is to be left alone.

What Jesus offers the disciple both then and now is the promise of “another advocate”. Jesus himself, “the first advocate” is God incarnate, who came so that we might see and experience God – and for the disciples, that is exactly what Jesus has done up to now. But now as Jesus is preparing to leave, he gives his instructions and he makes these promises; his beloved disciples –we – will not be left alone; he will not abandon them, but instead, through the Spirit, will continue to abide with them - us. Jesus will not leave these children of God orphaned, without an anchor. Rather, Jesus will give an advocate, who will stay with them.

In a couple of weeks we will celebrate the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples at Pentecost. We will celebrate the special gifts and tools for ministry they received, similar to the gifts we receive through baptism. But in these verses before us today, Jesus is promising the disciples that through the love of God, their allegiance to Christ is a sure foundation, and by their love and their dedication to the mission Christ has set before them, they will be blessed. And this is a word of grace and gospel for us today as well.

On Pentecost the Spirit descends to equip us for mission, too, but for today, the purpose of the Spirit is to advocate for us, to accompany us, to bear out the words of Christ, that although the cross and the tomb and then the empty tomb await, Jesus is not leaving us alone. Rather, in love and mercy Jesus is ever and will ever be with us. This week we celebrate Ascension Day – the day on which the disciples witnessed Jesus physically ascending as on clouds, up into heaven. It is the final “leave-taking” of Jesus, so to speak, and once again it may feel like Jesus is abandoning us as he shed his earthly bonds and ascends into heaven. But as Jesus has promised, there is life after Easter; there is abundant life in the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, through whom Jesus accompanies us throughout our days.

As Bradford Taylor comments, as Christians, we may sometimes feel like the babysitter left in charge, the responsible elder children trusted to carry on in Christ’s name, and “everywhere we go,” she writes, “we see the faces of those whom he has given in our care.” They come from different places with different expectations and different needs and wants. They may still be waiting for Jesus to return or they may have given up. “Where is he? Where did he go? And when will he be back? It is hard, being the ones in charge, because we are potential orphans too, only he said he was coming back again, and not only at the end of time.”

Jesus promises that through the Spirit, this advocate, he will be with us, he will accompany us, and will make a home with us. Jesus promises that there is life beyond Easter because the power and presence of Easter persist beyond the empty tomb. Jesus promises life beyond the boogeymen and monstrous creatures and the fearsome evil we confront in daily life. As David Lose puts it, there is more to being a child of God than being raised from the dead. Our Easter reality is that we are alive for Christ, we are bold to live without fear, because Jesus does not, and never will, leave us alone.  

Jesus will soon ascend into heaven, and the post resurrection visits that we have read about will come to an end. But God’s presence, God’s abiding with us, will not end. God has made us God’s dwelling place. God will continue to make Godself known to us, through advocating, accompanying, comforting, constantly creating and inspiring Spirit of God. God will never leave us alone, for in life, in death, and in life after death, we will ever be in the power and presence of our Lord. Of this we can be sure. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Imagine This!

John 14:1-14, Acts 7:55-60, 1 Peter 2:2-10, Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

          We are surrounded by countless images each and every day. Some of these are visual images of physical objects; others form through words we read on a page; still others are the images arise from conversations and stories told to us by other people.

Sometimes these images evoke other memories. Occasionally they shock or even overwhelm us. Sometimes competing images confuse us. Much of the time, images evoke an emotional response from us.

          Here are some of the images, for instance, which have been taking up space in my head this week. They begin with the snapshots of empty dormitories in a school in Nigeria from which over 200 girls were kidnapped over a month ago; they are still missing - evidence of so many lives interrupted. There are images from burned-out homes and acres of land consumed by wildfires in California, still threatening vast areas of the state. There were the crowds of people in Turkey, waiting for news of the fate of those buried deep under the debris of mine explosions, hope dimming with each passing hour; and there was a pregnant woman in Sudan condemned to death because she is a Christian and refuses to renounce her faith, the faith in which she was raised, a risk most of us simply cannot comprehend. All startling and disturbing images.

Against those images though, are these: the youth of Grace working hard to raise money so that over a year from now, they can join with tens of thousands of other high school aged students at the National Youth Gathering, where they will learn more about their faith, where they will have the opportunity to share and discuss more about the issues affecting their lives as Christians in an increasingly pluralistic world, and where they will put their faith into action through service to the people in need in the city of Detroit, where they will be meeting. I have the image of dozens of Easton residents showing up to stand in solidarity and support of a shelter for some of God’s beloved children who are facing tough times; images of walkers and runners gathering and participating in races locally and elsewhere, to raise funds to give hope and cure to those afflicted with life-threatening illnesses. I carry with me this morning the image of men and women of all ages gathering at the Lutheran Seminary in Gettysburg where I was on Friday, first to celebrate their accomplishments when seminary degrees were conferred on them, and then coming together as community again a little later that afternoon, to give God thanks and praise for all God’s blessings and for their vocations; and, the images of hope and excitement at commencement exercises held in places locally like Washington College and Salisbury University and in many other institutions of learning across our country and around the world as well.

Like many of these images, the scriptures that we read this morning are simply snapshots out of time. They capture a part of the story, but we know there is detail and a backstory that we are missing. Alone, the images evoke a response, but do we really know what we are even reacting to? Take our first reading, for instance, a dramatic story to be sure – this text, which tells of the stoning and martyrdom of Stephen. This story presents a powerful image – a young man, a disciple of Christ, sees a vision of heaven, with Christ standing as if as witness at the right hand of God, and then is rushed out of town and stoned to death.

In and of itself, this is a powerful image. We also have to admit though, it is in many ways disturbing image. True, in this short piece of the text we are given an admirable picture of the strong Christ-like witness of Stephen whose final words, we are told, are in fact reflective of Christ’s words from the cross, words of forgiveness for his murderers. But you know, this story would make a really poor employment ad for disciples for Christ.

But we know that there really is much more to the story. If you read the preceding chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, you will learn that Stephen, because he was known as a young man who was “full of faith and the Holy Spirit”, was called as a disciple early in the first days of the church. As the church was rapidly growing, it was noted that help was needed to make sure that the people most in need of food were not overlooked but were being cared for. And so Stephen and some other disciples were added to attend to the needs of the poor. Yet, as he is serving and tending the people, Stephen’s strong witness of Jesus Christ, the wisdom and strength of Spirit with which he spoke caught the attention of the wrong people, who plotted against him and ultimately brought him to the moment we read about here.  Hmmm, still not very enticing, is it? Anyone here ready to sign up?

Fact is, we will be welcoming a new member of Grace through Baptism a little later, but I wonder, has he read this story? If not, we had better lock the doors and grab him while we can, right? Because who in his right mind would answer the call to discipleship with this story as its invitation?

But then we read the other scriptures we have before us this morning. It looks like the psalmist has had some troubles of his own. Don’t we all? From time to time, like the author of this psalm, we all have our struggles. Enemies from within and without assail us. As members of this fallen humanity we each suffer as well as cause pain and suffering. Stuff happens that we cannot understand or explain. We inflict harm on our environment, and we are vulnerable to disease and death.

Yet as this psalmist faces challenges and hardship, his words reflect hope, assurance of God’s steadfast presence and strength, and ultimate deliverance. Whatever befalls him, he declares, “Into your hands I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me, O LORD, God of truth. For my times are in your hand….let your face shine upon your servant, save me in your steadfast love.”

Our reading from 1 Peter tells us about the beloved of Christ, a “living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight…” The author of that lesson goes on to describe how firm a foundation we have when Jesus Christ is our cornerstone, the one in whom we believe and trust, the one through whom we receive the grace and mercy of God.

Finally, we come to the gospel from John which comes from the Farewell Discourse Jesus delivers to his disciples on the very night he is handed over for his passion and death, and ultimately, his resurrection. I would like to focus on these important words from this gospel for us today, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” (verse 1) There are many words that follow. Words that promise a mansion in which God is preserving a place for each one of us. That is for the future. But the gospel words of this passage for all the disciples of Christ, both then and now, are these that come from the first verse.

Jesus isn’t simply telling his disciples here not to worry. But Jesus knows what is coming. Like many of the events of our days and the images that accompany them, Jesus knows that events are coming, images that will shock, terrify and yes, trouble the hearts of the disciples. What Jesus is telling the disciples – and us –is more like this – Jesus is telling us that the time is coming when events will threaten, frighten, shock, sadden, and even terrify you. But you will have faith to withstand whatever comes, because Jesus has given it to you. “You believe in me,” Jesus is saying, “and I have told you things that you will remember and share with others. Continue to hold onto my words, to the promises of God, because though them, I will continue to reveal God’s love to you.” Jesus will replace troubling images with reassuring ones, including those of this mansion with many rooms, including one with your name on it.

Jesus knows that the disciples will be troubled by the coming events; that the early church would be troubled by persecution; Jesus knows that we are troubled by shocking images and troubling news and events in our own times and in our lives. Jesus knows that it is only natural and human to be concerned, frightened, and even to have doubt when those things transpire. But Jesus is telling us, when those things happen, don’t be consumed by worry, do not let your hearts continue to be troubled. Rather, turn to my Word. Turn to the faith that I have given you. Turn to the promise of God that is true – that I will always be with you, with you to the end, and beyond.

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. Jesus promises that despite images that assail us that would cause us to worry, to be troubled, and even to doubt, that God loves us, is with us, is and will be always on our side. God continues to be rock, refuge, and strength. God promises that we are God’s people, and that as such, we have received God’s mercy and grace. God abides with us. God will dwell with us now and forever. Even when we cannot fathom the events around us, like schoolgirls being kidnapped and used as political pawns, or wildfires destroying the homes, property and environment, even when life’s challenges, disease and death threaten, we can believe in God and in the promise of our Savior who loves us, who hears our prayer, and answers our needs with wisdom, with eternal promise and with unending, surprising, and even shocking displays of mercy and love.

Jelly Beans, Tootsie Rolls, and Easter

Matthew 28:1-10 Easter Sunday

Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and our risen and victorious Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

          A friend of mine, also a pastor, relayed a conversation that she had with two three-year-old friends when she was visiting them just last week. Always the teacher, my friend thought spending some time looking through an illustrated children’s bible would offer the perfect opportunity to talk about Easter. So she began reading the resurrection story to the children. And, as children will, they listened carefully for a little while, and then began asking questions – you know, the way only children, especially three year olds, can do. The conversation went something like this:

"Why is Jesus wearing a dress?” “Do you think the Easter bunny will bring me purple jelly beans?"

My friend patiently answered “I am sure he will bring you jelly beans. But, remember, Easter isn't about the bunny. It's about Jesus.”

"But will they be purple?" her little friend persisted.

“Yes,” my friend responded. “I’m sure there will be some purple ones in there…but the important thing about Easter isn't the bunny or the candy…Easter is about how much Jesus loves you and me and the whole world.”

"Okay, but, HOW MANY purple jelly beans will the Easter Bunny bring?"

My friend tried to redirect them,“Girls, I think there will probably be plenty of purple jellybeans.” She looked at them, “But do you know how much Jesus loves you?”

“But …” they began.

“Yes?” 

“Will he bring me tootsie rolls, too?”

For three year olds, Easter bunnies, purple jelly beans and tootsie rolls are more than enough to make Easter a day of celebration, with or without Jesus. For adults, the details may be different, but the distractions still exist. Easter flowers, spectacular music and beautiful hymns, fancy dinners, and spiffy new clothes make today a day to celebrate. But, you do know, don’t you, how very much Jesus loves you? That there really is more to this day? 

Whether we are three, or thirty, or, well – older than that, our very being hungers this day to know and experience the Easter story that lies beyond jellybeans, tootsie rolls, pretty plants, lovely music and new Spring clothes. Like the two Marys in our gospel text today, like the other disciples, we have all experienced dark nights of the soul, moments of great disappointment and grief, fear, or confusion and despair, where we, too, want to know, need to know, that there’s more to this day than the little details that all add up to make Easter special. We want to know, need to know and experience the truth of the resurrection. We want to know, need to know, that even after the sweets are consumed, the flowers wilt, the last notes of the beautiful music we hear today fade, there is something more in this Easter for us. Something radically life-changing, something hope-producing, and joyful, bound together by the love of Jesus and the truth of this gospel. 

Sooner or later, my friend’s three year old buddies will experience these dark nights and dark days, and they will need more than bunnies and jellybeans. They will need to know what Easter is all about. Sooner or later, we all have that need, to know that our faith has not been in vain.

·         Perhaps it will be when they are bullied at school or work and feel all alone;

·         Or maybe it will happen when they are betrayed or harshly, unfairly judged by a so-called “friend” or their heart is broken by the one who pledges to be faithful until death;

·         It could happen on a day when they hear the report from the doctor, “it’s not just a cold after all”

·         Or perhaps when they’re feeding their beloved, aging mother, who no longer recognizes them.

·         Perhaps that dark day occurred for you when you came to grips with the addiction that torments you or when I acknowledged the many bridges I have burned and the pain I have caused, and I yearn for the forgiveness I fear never will come.

·         Perhaps it will be the day our best friend dies, or we come face to face with unspeakable evil or loss.

Whatever our story or circumstance, our need for this day is real and it is deep. Despite the reality of death all around us – the death of dreams, the death of relationships, and of course, physical death, it is because of this day that we dare not only to hope but to be joyful. It is because of Easter, and God’s radical resurrection redirection, that we can be confident in our present and our future, and know that both are bound together in Christ’s eternal presence and love.

Today is a day that is not simply about beautiful flowers, though we certainly love them; nor is it about the beautiful music, the trumpet fanfare and shouted alleluias, though we sure do appreciate them. It is not simply a day about bunnies and jellybeans and tootsie rolls. It is about how in the midst of a mighty earthquake, God rolled the stone from the tomb, and revealed the divine mystery – that in Christ, death and the grave are defeated. This day is about God surprising and astounding us in the resurrection of Jesus – the real bodily resurrection of our Savior. And on this Easter day, we acknowledge that while there is great joy and relief in the victory of our Lord, each one of us experiences this mystery of faith differently. Christ has died, Christ is risen and Christ will come again. These are not empty words, but words that contain in them the fullness of our faith. That God, who raised Christ from the dead is not done with us yet.

Today is a day that contains in it the dawn of a new reality. It is a reality that transcends time, reason and rationale. It shakes us up and it makes us new. It gives us hope and it asks of us our participation in this magnificent story. It begs us to share our faith. It commands us to pay attention.

Some of us see faith in brilliant white light like the shining light that reflected off the angel’s clothing at the tomb; for others faith is more subtle,  given to us at our baptism. Some of us have experienced radical, transformational moments of “born again” reality; for others Christ has been such a real and constant presence throughout our lives, that we can’t think of a moment when things changed and our faith became real. Christ has simply always been there. For some of us, believing is as unsettling as the earthquake that revealed the miraculously empty tomb; for others, it radiates with the reassuring warmth of the sun.

My friends, no matter which of these descriptions fits how faith in Christ has come to you, the truth is that Jesus’ resurrection makes all of us new! And for that reason, we are bid, like the Marys, to go and tell what God has done. The women’s lingering fear is overcome by their joy – they run! They run to tell the disciples this glorious good news of the resurrection! They run to tell the disciples of the empty tomb and the words of the angel. “Do not be afraid; He is not here; he has been raised from the dead.” 

Brothers and Sisters, our Easter surprise is that God, who has made all things new, who has brought life out of death, and hope out of despair, has great things in store for each and every one of us. Just as Christ’s presence in our lives looks different for each of us, so does this new life that comes to us through God’s grace.

New life sometimes looks like reconciliation between family members. Sometimes, new  life might look like me admitting that I’m wrong, or not mentioning that I’m right. New may look like helping our neighbors, even when we’re convinced that they’ve created their own disaster to begin with.

New life looks like every fresh start and every act of forgiveness, and sometimes new looks like people of faith letting go of past hurts, hang-ups, and conflict in order for a church to receive the resurrected life and mission our God is calling us to. New may look like unshakeable faith in the promise of resurrection, even as we watch loved ones die. Often, new is what we never see coming…the thing we didn’t even know to hope for, that ends up being exactly what we need.

New life happens to each of us, and is the reason we celebrate this day. Beyond the jelly beans and tootsie rolls, Easter is about God, in Jesus, coming near to us, reaching down into our everyday humanity and pulling us out of our graves, making us new, time and time again. The Good News of this day is that we are loved so much by God that God has swept us up into God’s own story of death and life, and life after death. We stand here as Easter people,  even as we shout, Alleluia! Christ is risen! Alleluia! And the people of God shout, Amen!

Here's Mud in Your Eye

John 9:1-41 March 30, 2014

          When is the last time you found your life really disrupted? Have you had to re-imagine what your day, or week, or even your entire future might look like changed, due to circumstances outside of your control? Can you name a time when you needed to reassess the validity of what you had always assumed to be true, or determine what was fundamentally, truly, even important in life, when your previously formed expectations were turned upside-down?

Perhaps it happened on a day you had a flat tire on your way to an  important meeting, or were driving home from a long trip and just when you were within reach of home, discovered that the Bay Bridge was closed? Maybe it happened when you received a surprising diagnosis or some devastating news. Sometimes disruptions happen over time; occasionally they occur in the blink of an eye. Either way, they can be life changing, transformational, and they provide opportunities to recognize God’s grace in the midst all of life’s experiences; perhaps most powerfully, in the surprising events which intrude into our everyday existence.

In our text today, Jesus confounds his disciples, the Pharisees, and many others through this miracle of sight to a man who was born blind, a man who has no name, a man who doesn’t know who Jesus is, and doesn’t even ask for healing… Jesus intrudes on this man’s life as he does on ours…with disruptive, transformational, miraculous grace that changes everything.

Dr. John Van Nuys, a minister from Indiana, writes about an experience of grace he received while in Africa, even though he didn’t understand it at the time. It is an experience which he ties beautifully to this text. 

“When I was in Congo,” he writes, “one of the hardest graces ….. to accept was the lavish hospitality of our Congolese hosts. Oftentimes, very malnourished church people made sure we ate our fill. Impoverished villages gave us material gifts that were their very best. People insisted on washing our clothes for us – and even ironed them with flat irons filled with coals from their fire. But what really stunned us ….. was that our hosts insisted on not only washing, but also ironing our underwear. That seemed beyond hospitality to me.....and I tried repeatedly to tell our hosts that they did not have to do that. But [they] would have nothing of that. With a smile, they simply insisted: No. And they went right on ironing.

Van Nuys continues, “It was years later that I learned why. In Congo, when you hang clothes on the line to dry, there is an exotic, rainforest insect … that takes advantage of those warm, wet clothes. It lands on drying laundry and deposits its eggs there. When the eggs hatch, the larvae, which are largely invisible to the human eye, crawl from the clothes to the person who is wearing them, burrowing into their skin which causes very itchy, painful lesions. The Congolese are used to such annoyances—which, I am told, are a lot like our chiggers. But to make sure that we tenderfoots ….. did not suffer that discomfort, everything was ironed for us. Underwear included. We were never told why. We never understood why. We just received what was strangely, graciously given.”

Dr. Van Nuys says “I think most of God’s gifts are like that. By grace, we receive something that we really don’t understand all that much—if at all. Initially, we are really not too sure about it, and it sometimes takes a lot of time to understand the fullness of the gift. Like the blind man who receives his sight by having Jesus put dirt and spit on his eyes. I think if I had been that man, I would have said, "Thank you for this miracle, [Lord] but can you do this without the spit? Can’t I have a more ‘common-sense miracle’; a more sanitary miracle without something like your spit having to be a part of it?"

Many times God’s miracles are very plain and straightforward; at other times they come through unexpected, even shocking events and means. Like mud made from spit and soil. Van Nuys writes, “Sometimes God’s gifts come in very strange ways that don’t even begin to make sense to us. Like ironed underwear or a dirt-and-spit poultice. Mostly, we expect God’s miracles to be packaged and packed with Hollywood special effects that instantaneously make our lives clearly better. But many times God’s miracles, God’s gifts, come in plain, brown paper bags without a lot of fanfare. Many times God’s miracles only work on the installment plan: They don’t make our lives completely and understandably better all at once. Sometimes God’s gifts are time-released miracles that take time to unfold: They incrementally make our lives better as we put our cooperative efforts into working with God to make God’s gift our miraculous reality.”

Sometimes it is only through the lens of the “what if” that we truly comprehend the miracles in our lives for what they truly are.

For the Pharisees and for many of us, when tragedy befalls us, when disease strikes, when life doesn’t go as we think it should, it initiates a cycle of questioning of sin at its core. For instance, someone is diagnosed with lung cancer and the first question you hear asked – “but did they smoke?” Or there is a car accident – and we wonder, “whose fault was it?” Or a child is born with disabilities – and we question, “was it something the mother did? Ate? Drank? Was it environmental?” Or first response is to question what caused this thing to happen – who did what to bring it about? And so the cycle begins.

This story is no different, and in the mind-set of first century Palestine, the first question most people would have asked in any event was, “Whose fault is it?” For in their worldview disaster and disease were the cost of angering God. Even for the disciples. Why is this man blind? There has to be someone to blame.

Yet the point of this story is not about fault at all, but about how, in the midst of our anguish, our deepest need, our ongoing crises, God’s divine love, mercy, and grace can transform anyone in any situation. Even to giving a man sight through the ordinary substances of dirt and spit. It’s about how Jesus is able to take our illness and disability, our messes, our hurts, and our deficiencies, and using the most improbable methods possible, at the right time and in the right place, he can make us whole and fit us for the work of discipleship and worship.

"Healing of the Blind Man" (1871); Carl Bloch. 

The blind man in our text today became a disciple who worshiped and adored Jesus. He demonstrated his thanksgiving for this extraordinary gift. Though born blind, he saw more clearly than any of the sighted people around him, that God’s gift is at work through Jesus, who transformed him. The true gift this man received was faith – and he gives the only appropriate response possible – he testifies to who Jesus is, and he worships him. He doesn’t understand what happened, he simply does what Jesus asked, and believed.

Even today, Jesus is in the business of miracles. He takes ordinary people, and through water, Word, bread, and wine equips us to be his disciples. He invites us to the table of grace and there he heals us, strengthens us, and grants us forgiveness, transforming us in truth and light.

We are invited to the table, where Jesus tells us, eat, drink, and remember – and we do, even though we don’t understand how this bread and wine becomes body and blood, even though we don’t get how God’s love is made manifest at this table. Though we’re not always sure how this simple action can bring us to eternal life, can change us into agents of God’s grace, can bring us the healing for which we desperately yearn, we come.

At the table, God takes our humble gifts and multiples our meager offerings in ways that can’t be explained rationally. At the table, God blesses us to be God’s hands and feet in service, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, sheltering the homeless, loving the addicted, forgiving those who hurt us, and opening our eyes to the rich mission field around us.

God sends us out to testify to the good news, not as sinners but as redeemed, beloved children of God; disciples and newly sighted for mission and ministry in God’s name. Amen.

What's In That Water, Anyway?

John 4:5-42 ~ Samaritan Woman at the Well ~

Last week in our gospel reading we encountered Nicodemus, a Pharisee who came to Jesus under the cover of the darkness of night, to ask him questions, stirred by Jesus’ teachings. Nicodemus was curious, but he was also afraid. Otherwise, why would he come in secret to see the Lord, and then keep secret the good news that he heard from Jesus?

Today we read of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. Comparing the two stories, we notice quite a few contrasts. One of the first things that we notice is that this meeting at the well occurs in the bright light of the noon day sun. And, details about this woman stand in stark contrast to Nicodemus.

·         Nicodemus was a figure of authority and whose position garnered respect. The woman is a Samaritan – of a race of people considered unclean and untouchable by Jewish law and standards; so despised that most Jews would go out of their way to avoid encountering them on their journeys, and would never have wanted one to touch the cup they were to use.

·         She is a woman – already a person of little account or worth in her culture, because of her gender.

·         Unlike Nicodemus, she is given no name in the story. She is unknown, adding to the sense that she is a person of little regard.

·         She has come to the well in the center of town to draw water for herself. We can safely assume that she is either a servant or a person of no wealth or standing of her own. In fact, one reason she may have been at the well at that time of the day was that she was an outcast among her own. Most women drawing water at the well would congregate there in groups early in the morning or in the evening – they would not come alone, in the hottest part of the day, to draw water.

·         As Jesus reveals, she has had five husbands and is now living with a man who is not her husband. Before we cast her as an immoral woman, though, we must consider the strong possibility that each of her husbands had died, perhaps they were even brothers, each marrying her out of obligation as the brother before him died until finally, with no means of support, and her life on the line, she finds herself under the protection of a man who would not marry her – maybe even out of fear.

·         Unlike Nicodemus, this woman is not seeking anything, she is just going about her business. It is Jesus who surprises her, it is Jesus who speaks first and engages her.

·         Unlike Nicodemus, the woman has little to lose.

·         After the encounter with Jesus Nicodemus seems to keep a low profile. The woman’s response to this encounter with Jesus is to leave her bucket behind, and to go and tell. To go and tell everyone who would listen about this man – for, could it be, that he is the Messiah?

I wonder what it must have been like for this Samaritan woman, to have Jesus even speak to her at first, to acknowledge that she was there, and then as this conversation unfolds, to learn that Jesus knows everything there was to know about her – and chose to speak to her anyway. Jesus didn’t reject her. He didn’t turn his back on her. He didn’t demand anything from her. I wonder what ran through her mind as Jesus offered to quench her thirst.

Like Nicodemus, this woman initially interprets everything Jesus says literally. He offers to crawl back into his mother’s womb. She questions why Jesus doesn’t even have a bucket.

But with just a few words, Jesus opens her eyes. He gives her new understanding. He transforms her with hope. He reaches out to her in love. Jesus accepts her as a child of God, offering her something she never thought within reach. A Samaritan woman! An outcast! A person of no account, marginalized in every way possible.

In this surprising, confounding event, Jesus unplugs the dam of hopelessness and lets the living water of God’s love and care for this woman wash over her. She came to the well that day with her bucket, expecting to draws a days’ worth of life sustaining water. But as Jesus’ love enfolds her, she drops her bucket, the vessel that can never hold what it is that Jesus gives. She is offered life-giving water that comes from the divine “spring of water, gushing up to eternal life” - and she runs to tell her friends, her townspeople, anyone who will listen, that there is “something in the water” – the water that only Jesus can give. 

While this woman came to the well with her own set of expectations for what life had to offer her, as she came to the well in the ordinary existence of her days, she came with only one purpose in mind. She thought she would draw water that day from the cistern at the base of the well. It would meet her physical needs. She would perform a chore that was expected of her.

But her encounter with Jesus is life-changing not only for her but for those whom she invites into the story. Her encounter with Jesus leads her to running, bubbling, life-giving, Spirit-filled water, water that is eternal, water that doesn’t dry up, water that overflows the cups we hold, water that cannot be contained, water that washes away sin and infuses us with God’s own life. With his words, Jesus transforms this woman of no account into a seeker who is suddenly thirsty for the life-saving word that he can give her. And he transforms her into a disciple – one who tells the story and invites others to hear it for themselves.

As he so often does, Jesus confounds expectations and dashes the status quo to smithereens – “the way things always are” or “have been” applies no longer. This woman of no account, this person of no status, this creature of no authority, is not only accepted but beloved; not only worthy but treasured. With the words “I am He,” Jesus identifies himself as the source of the living water she now seeks. The treasure offered here is the same treasure that is offered to all the world by this God who is determined to save us, determined to give us everything, determined to go to the cross in order to become for us the life-giving stream of life that never ends.

This story intersects our lives at the baptismal font. It beckons to us from the table. It leaps off the pages of scripture and invites us to be transformed as well. It invites our participation. It confers on us the status of God’s beloved, the ones who are washed in the waters of baptism and given equal status with this Samaritan woman, and with Nicodemus, and with those who have believed in Jesus and his claim, “I am he.”

This story and the promise of living water is for each and every person. If you have ever considered yourself unworthy, or been told that you are, this living water is for you. If you have been disappointed by life, betrayed by someone you trusted, felt less than worthy of love in any way, let the waters of from Jesus’ spring quench your thirst. If you have doubted, disbelieved, been bound by confusion or lack of faith, know that Christ holds this promise and this eternal gift for you.

This woman who had nothing – and everything – to lose – shared with others the good news of this life-giving words, this saving water, this promise of new life for all who come to drink. What are we then to do? We can do as this woman did.

The first thing the woman did was to tell her friends what her experience was. She didn’t try to convince them. She didn’t proselytize, she simply shared her story. She testified to what she had seen, what she had heard, how she had been loved, what that felt like. And others came. Samaritans, who had no affinity for a Jew let alone a rabbi, came to hear for themselves the life-saving word of God. In so doing they came to believe.

Each one of us is here because there is something in this unbelievable, counter-cultural, transformational story that has grabbed us. There is something about this Jesus of Nazareth that beckons to us. There is something that happened because of our baptism or something that is leading us to the font that we can’t even explain, but we know it is something worth clinging to and therefore it is something worth sharing with others. You don’t have to convince anyone of anything. Nor do you have to understand it. Simply testify to those you know that this word of God, this baptism and this meal mean something to you, make a difference in your life, and you need to share it with others. God will do the rest.

Like the Samaritans who came and asked Jesus to stay, who heard his word and were touched by his spirit, those we invite to this place will be transformed not by anything that we have done, but by everything that God has done through Jesus Christ.

Amen.