Encountering Christ

The sermon from July 1st was the story from Mark 5:25-34 of a woman who spent 12 years with an illness—one that made her ‘unclean’ by temple standards and isolated her from everyone else. She went from doctor to doctor—with no avail—and ended up penniless and desperate. So she reaches out to touch the garment of Jesus.

Some say that her act of reaching was great faith (“I ONLY need to touch the garment and that will be enough to heal me”). This puts the emphasis on the smallness of the touch and the greatness of God’s power. Merely brushing against holiness is transformative.

But I also wonder if the woman’s small gesture came from a sense of feeling unworthy to do anything else. Perhaps she thought, “I don’t want to bother Jesus; I’m not worthy to interrupt him.” Maybe 12 years of suffering had left her feeling alone. unworthy. outcast. –and she couldn’t bring herself to face the crowds or be the object of pity yet again. So she thought, “I’ll just touch his garment and then I can sneak away unseen. unnoticed. I won’t be a bother.” 

Either way, she reached out.
She touches the garment of Christ and--wonder of wonders--she feels her body stop bleeding.

You would think the story would end there.
It would be enough for her body to be made better. It would be enough for this to be a miraculous story of God’s mighty power coursing through threads and fingertips.

--But there’s more--
Jesus stops in his tracks.  
(and it’s not like he doesn’t have somewhere important to be. Jesus is on his way to heal a little girl who is gravely ill, but he stops anyways)

“Who touched me?” Jesus asks.

By the way: I’m pretty sure that Jesus wasn’t lessened by the encounter, and there were several people pushing up against him, so I doubt this was an angry question. I doubt that Jesus was offended that someone had sought healing.

I’m also pretty sure that Jesus knew exactly who had touched him. After all, Jesus shows intimate knowledge of several people in other stories—like John 4 where Jesus knows the life details of the woman at the well –or the encounter with Nathanael in John 1:48 where the soon-to-be disciple is surprised to be known.

So—perhaps—this question from Christ is not an inquiry or an interrogation but an invitation not to hide.  

Jesus asks to see her face-to-face.
Jesus demands to encounter her pain.
And she does. Trembling, fearful and falling, she does:

 she tells him the whole story.

And Jesus’ looks her in the eyes and calls her by an intimate name:

            “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed.”

Perhaps the miracle of this story is not merely in the touch of the garment, but the encounter itself.
It is miraculous that our God gives space for the hurt and the downtrodden and the outcast. God looks us in the face and WANTS us to tell the whole story. Through encountering Jesus, we are made well. 

Fits and Starts

I woke this morning with a jolting realization: I forgot to reset the air conditioner at the church!!! 
Our church has an old chiller system we've been nursing for a while.
The new one arrives in two weeks, but the old one--when it does work--is the noisiest thing you've ever encountered (seriously: it's called "the screaming eagle").

The decision to shut it down was risky, but we had an outdoor gathering less than three feet away and needed the quiet. So we shut it down manually. Red button now for an hour of quiet, green button later to cool the building. Except I forgot. 

So here I am this morning, mashing that little green button for the hundred-or-so folks who will use the building today. At first, nothing happened. A slough of error messages on the diagnostic panel needed to clear ("yes, I KNOW compressor #2 is out-- but we need you to kick on and work for two more weeks. Please?").
Finally, the system fired up with a lumbering screech ...only to stop with another "dire warning" on its screen.
So I started again and the cycle repeated: clear panel, reset system, wait, hear it start (hope that it keeps going). There was no way to hurry or force it faster, so I had to wait and hope for the best.
I finally brought a chair into the AC cage because twenty minutes passed and I figured it would be a while. 

Kevin Watson uses the phrase "fits and starts" to describe Christian discipleship. We always experience fits and starts when we try to grow in following Christ. And it occurred to me that this is exactly what God does with me. Time and time again, God sits patiently with me as I struggle and awkwardly lumber to do the very thing I am designed to do. Over and over, God clears away what holds me back, resets the system and waits for me to click into gear. And sometimes I do...for a while, at least. But God knows not to walk away. Sitting patiently. Because there are folks who NEED me to do what I'm created to do. I'm still awaiting the fullness of re-creation (that might take more than two weeks) but, in the meantime, I'm growing in fits and starts.
And the air is finally working here at the church.

(from June 30, 2017)

Another Unexpected Encounter

I tried a new setting on the church alarm, so—in anticipation of accidentally tripping the sensor, I preemptively called the Alarm company. I gave them my passcode, identified myself as Pastor, and asked if they had time to sit on the phone while I walked out of the office. They did have time (apparently it’s a slow night for alarms when it’s below freezing) and I was able to exit without issue, but the person on the other end of the line randomly asked me about the church. Apparently they (their spouse) we’re looking for a church home. I did nothing to start the conversation. In fact, the person apologized for “talking shop” ad I was headed home. Again, a Holy conversation simply fell into my lap! “You will see greater things...”

(community class name here) and the name of Jesus

Someone came into the office today to sign up for a community class.

Unable to pay more than half of it, though, they started to walk away.

I explained that the mission for the whole Wednesday class program was to connect with the community and empower folks to live life abundantly in Christ.

"The faith part," I said, "the Jesus part--is unashamedly us. We're not pushing or requiring that from anyone. so if this class will help fill you with abundance, we will scholarship the rest. Please don't let limited finances hold you back from participating." 

As I expected, the person decided to sign up and pay what they could.

I did not expect them to turn around and ask the volunteer at the front desk about Jesus.
but they did.

Apparently, I was the third person this week to 'bring up Jesus.' 

They had always believed in the existence of God and knew that a man named Jesus lived in Israel, but never had a relationship or a connection with him and wanted to know if we could talk about that... 

I was like, "Are you kidding me?!?! Be still my heart!!"

If I'm being honest, the faith comment was not intentional or strategic on my part. It flowed out of a habitual repetition of the church's mission statement: "to empower others to live life abundantly in Christ."
But talk about a moment where God burst open my expectations:

"You will see greater things than these."

I believe this person will be in worship on Sunday, so let's be very intentional about offering welcome to everyone who walks through our doors. You never know who is waiting to hear the name 'Jesus' for the third time (and you never know if you're the one to have those first two conversations so that the third can be fruitful).

Kale Soup and Pumpkin Bread

A pastor friend of mine was struggling with her congregation.
...unsure of her place. unsure of the fit.
Feeling unwanted, unloved, unliked
(sometime, churches are NOT the most loving places--to guests, to one another, to pastors...)

Then she was sick.

And a church member reached out to say that they had made her "kale soup and pumpkin bread"

Which was a beautiful life-giving thing for her (a vegetarian).

It meant that people cared. That people cared for her (on the term of her needs).
It was a warm and home-like sense of, "they know me here!!!!"
Which is exactly what you need when you're sick.

It also meant that the entire church wasn't defined by the angry, critical, voices.
She could choose to define the quality of the congregation based on kale soup and pumpkin bread.

Notes on Nathanael's Story

Another sermon where the text had more possibilities than could possibly be preached:

• Evangelism. empowering OTHERS. (calling Nathanael) --Philip invites him. Philip literally echos Jesus' own words: 'come and see' (how does this look in a world full of skeptics?)

• Active discipleship. Following JESUS-- not the pastor or anyone else.
  It's not enough to believe. We need to follow.
  --angels ascending and descending: faith is a two-way street. God reaches out to us. We respond
  
• Called--despite out shortcomings. what is a disciple? "I'm not because a disciple is this BIG thing..."
  ...except that God works in the small, the insignificant, the unworthy.
  (at this point in John) "Jesus has performed nor miracle, showed no sign, engaged in no teaching... He is just Jesus from Nazareth, the son of Joseph."
  In Nathanael's view, Jesus could be nothing more than a simple Jew from an insignificant village in Galilee. The Messiah would certainly be of more prominent parentage and come from a more significant town.
  
• Who is Jesus? Revelation/Epiphany/Praise(can anything good come from Nazareth?)
  ...the answer is 'yes!'
  --> him whom Moses in the law and the prophets wrote
  --> Rabbi, Son of God! King of Israel!
  --> source of revelation and the opening of heaven on earth; the bridge between God and humanity
  
• Importance of Honest/Authenticity
  In a 'fake news' world where you don't know who to trust
  In a photoshop world where photos are false
  In a world where Christians ARE hypocrites (we are)
  Philip is without guile. Authentic. honest. genuine. --but not without flaw

Jesus can read his heart--and change it
God knows you. KNOWS you. KNOWS the unworthiness... even before we do.
...and calls you anyway.

• Short-sighted vision and judgment--Nathanael scoffs and judges.
  John 6:7 --Philip counts the cost of feeding the 5,000:  ‘Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.’ (Jesus shows him otherwise)
  --but Jesus promises that he'll see even greater things. 
  -= That scoffing is a sin. It's an arrogant failure to notice the work of God.
  (Jesus had walked by him and Philip didn't even notice)
  An invitation to see beyond our limitations.
  Choose to follow Jesus.
  Leave your prejudice behind.

We just finished an amazing 7-week course called "Tell the Story"
We discussed God's story, stories in the Bible, and we shared our own stories about experiences or moments when "our story" and "God's story" were breathtakingly intertwined. (Personal experiences of God at work in our lives)

In our last session, we watched "cardboard testimonies" and then made and shared our own.
(While "I love to tell the story" played in the background).

A much-needed letter of affirmation

I had an epiphany today. I got really frustrated/morally disturbed at school and actually voiced my concerns rather than waiting for someone else to. (Which didn’t go over well, much to my chagrin.)

And I thought to myself, I didn’t used to be this way. I haven’t always felt compelled to speak up when I thought something harmful was happening, especially if it meant acting alone. Even with widespread social injustices I would get upset but I would also feel like that’s just the way of the world, so why bother trying to do anything. 

But I think the kingdom of God sermon series changed my perspective. I used to believe my actions didn’t really matter—that whether I acted helpfully or harmfully, the earth was just doomed...and salvation (at some future date) would either take us elsewhere or something. I don’t even know. But my attitude was defeatist at best, regardless of what I thought of the end of days. 

Anyhow, now my working perspective is that salvation has occurred so that the work of creating the kingdom could begin and continue here and now, which means my actions do matter, which means if I see something unjust (including and especially my own behavior), I’m going to feel compelled to call it out or question it or try to change it, which means being engaged with the world, which means being more delighted and more heartbroken, which means feeling more alive.

Huh, just had another thought—is this what it means to be alive in Christ? 

*shrugs*

I realize as I’m writing this that it feels like a journal entry that’s helping me process my emotional state today, so thank you for reading it. 

And I wanted to share how important that series was for me, even though I’m only realizing it now.

Enemies and Ice Chips

I had my day all scheduled out, but an overly-long funeral put me significantly behind.
And then, when I arrived at the ICU to visit my ONE parishioner in the hospital, the nurse told me that I had to wait at least 30 minutes for shift change. I had a friend in town and was supposed to meet up with them, so I was NOT happy.

To make matters worse, this particular patient was someone that I had struggled to love.
My very first week at the church, she had barged into my office with angry opinions and we had been locked in power struggles ever since. She got the better of my temper on a few occasions and, once or twice, I had called her my nemesis. So, of course, I begrudged the inconvenience of that extra time (even blamed her for it, slightly: "of course she would mess up this day for me"--an irrational reaction, but my thought nonetheless).

So I left to get coffee with my friend and stubbornly returned to the hospital ('stubborn' is the right word because my reaction was more like "she is NOT going to win this one. I WILL visit and I'll kill her with kindness because I'm the better person.")    ...

This woman who had been in (my perception) so formidable and bitter and antagonistic... was curled up in a hospital bed and weakly crying out for ice.
And I saw her.
I'm not sure if she knew who I was, but as I sat there singing hymns, I found myself deeply drawn to compassion and love for this child of God.

It was grace for me to sing.
It was grace for me to hold that tiny sponge swab and gently fish one ice chip at a time out of the Styrofoam cup and place it on to her lips. It felt almost sacramental to be sharing such a small and intimate thing with her.

As I sang, I was overcome by the raw knowledge of God's overwhelming love towards this woman. Despite my previous frustration and anger, I saw Christ in her and with her.
It was a moment of tender mercy.

 And my heart was strangely warmed.
(enough to melt some of the ice)

Prayer Stations: Listening to God

When Samuel hears the call of God, his response is "Speak, Lord, your servant is listening." (1 Samuel 3)

Rather than preach an entire sermon about listening to God, I wanted people to try it. To experience and/or practice listening. 

So we worshipped with a series of prayer stations:

Scripture-Speaking. What might God be saying to you? ...choose a scripture and use a stone to mark where you are.

What keeps you from hearing/recognizing God's voice? Put your distractions on the cross--visibly blocking it--then pray for space and remove them  

Open station for creative reflection...

...and several others that I didn't photograph (breath prayer, silent meditation, imaginitive narrative where God calls YOUR name--and you give a written response, communal reflection: "how do YOU listen to God?")

Overall, I think the experience (and response) was good from the congregation. 

In the sanctuary services, most people remained in their seats and focused in the meditation in the bulletin, so my own response from God came when I complained about all the work for the unused stations. "Do you want people to hear you? Or Me?" 

The contemporary service had mason jars and small stones for the scripture-speaking station, so when people chose a scripture, there was an audible 'plink' throughout the room. The sound of filling jars, for me, affirmed that Gods word never comes back empty. (Isaiah 55:11). One worshipped loved the sound because she said it meant that people had found their verse. :) 

It was a lot of work to set up, so if I did this again, I would HAVE to enlist help (meaning more delegating and less procrastination). But that's a resounding theme for almost everything I do...

All Saints Day 2015

Each year, we read the names of church members who've passed away the previous year. It's a beautiful and meaningful tradition, but it still leaves of lots of names (I know several folks in my church grieving family who aren't members of our church and I still think we should remember others who died several years--even centuries--ago. 

So we allowed each person to remember. After recieving communion, the congregation was invited to choose a cross or a dove shape--both symbols of resurrection hope--and write a name or names of those who we hope live in Christ. 

Then we hung them up! 

Gold cord hung around the sanctuary to visibly express that we are surrounded by the great cloud of witnesses:

And in the family life center, we nailed string to room dividers:

I honestly just wanted a quick and simple way to hang the names, but the finished design was really powerful to see:

Which is exactly how it should be. The communion of saints brings the cross into further clarity for us. 

Conviction and prayer

Tomorrow is Florida's turn in the world-round prayer vigil for General Conference.

A lot is happening at General Conference, but the most public conversation concerns questions of inclusion--especially marriage and ordination for LGBQT disciples.
So--of course--as I googled "pray for general conference 2016" (why should I reinvent the wheel if someone else has already made a beautiful guide?) there were tons of articles with varying opinions.

One article, in particular, was followed by extremely hurtful, bigoted and small-minded comments. There, in black and white social media, I watched Christians bite, sneer, and slander other Christians--and it made me angry and embarrassed to call them part of our faith family.

I sat there; horrified and furious at these people who appeared only as screennames and profile pictures... and then my computer chirped that a new e-mail had arrived. And Sojourners sent me the following conviction:

This is the message we have heard from [God] and proclaim to you, that God is light and in [God] there is no darkness at all. - 1 John 1:5

For myself, I find I become less cynical rather than more — remembering my own sins and follies; and realize that men's hearts are not often as bad as their acts, and very seldom as bad as their words. - J. R. R. Tolkien

Prayer: We rejoice in your light, O God. Help us to bask in the light of your love as it emanates from our neighbors and from the rest of your creation.

I was NOT looking fto be convicted of my own sins, but there it was. So now I'm praying for my own humility and non-judgment of others. Thanks General Conference prayer initiative. Thanks a lot.

(P.S. the e-mail came from Sojourner's 'Voice and Verse'. I definitely recommend it.)

Bold. 4 on the 4th

Someone shared this a long time ago but since it's part of today's reading, I had to post it:

Notes/reflections from Luke 4:

• on the temptations of Jesus in the wilderness: Food/comfort. Power/fame. Safety/self-reliance.
    Jesus is faithful ...but what are my temptations? And where do I fail?
• vv 16-40
  ...the people are fine with Jesus until he calls them out. They pat him on the head with nostalgia and appreciate his 'gracious words' --but when he suggests that all of them might not be faithful, they run him out of town. Courtesy turns to critique and they stop listening.
  Do I allow the Gospel to convict me? Am I open to critique from Christ? ...or is my faith safe?

Mostly, though, I keep noticing this theme of authority.

Jesus is matter-of-fact with the devil (leaning on the authority of Scripture). In Capernaum, the people are astounded at Jesus' teaching, "because he spoke with authority. ...He commands the unclean spirits, and out they come!’"

Similarly, Acts 4 opens with Peter and John "speaking the truth" while the temple leaders are "much annoyed."

On trial, the disciples are equally truthful and the leaders "saw the boldness of Peter and John and recognized them as companions of Jesus."

                     Boldness. 

                                    Wasn't it always a companion of Jesus?

The leaders realize they can't refute the disciples, so the command them not to speak.

                   ...so the disciples respond by praying for boldness.

(a prayer that I should totally pray more often)

‘Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth, the sea, and everything in them... grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.’ 

When they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness.

Lord, grant me boldness.
in life.
in word.
in deeds.
Help me to testify with great power to your resurrection.
so that great grace may be upon us all.

Deferential. 3 on the 3rd

Luke 3 (from The Message):

"the people were filled with expectation...wondering, 

“Could this John be the Messiah?”

But John intervened: “I’m baptizing you here in the river. The main character in this drama, to whom I’m a mere stagehand, will ignite the kingdom life, a fire, the Holy Spirit within you, changing you from the inside out."

Acts 3
(After Peter and John heal a crippled man in the temple)

All the people ran to them, utterly astonished. 

When Peter saw it, he addressed the people, 

‘...Why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk? The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus..."

Altarpiece by Matthias Grünewald

In both of these passages, we see incredible biblical figures turning attention away from themselves and towards their God. It's not about our power or our piety. It's about the God who works through and in us. ...and when God does wondrous things, then we have the opportunity to point others towards Christ! (or, as Rev. Dan Bell has said--'like John the Baptist in Grunewald's painting, we gave to give people the finger that points to Jesus').

Amazed. 2 on the 2nd

Yesterday, I started a chapter-a-day challenge through Luke and Acts (chapter 1 on the 1st, 2 on the second, etc...). A few folks from the church are joining me and I'm hoping the accountability will keep me focused. 

It seems that we have a wondrous capacity to be amazed and then immediately disinterested. I'm in chapter 2 of Luke (after Gabriel appears to Mary and after Elizabeth and Zechariah AND Mary proclaim wondrous thing about Jesus) and as soon as Jesus is born, a bunch of shepherds show up talking about how angels appeared and filled the sky with the proclamation of this kid's wondrous birth... but eight days later, Mary and Joseph show up for a typical temple ritual like everything is normal. 

Trip to Jerusalem? check. 

Name for the kid? check. (epic name, true, but it's been chosen for a while)

Doves for sacrifice? check. 

Strange guy filled with the Holy Spirit who shows up to take your baby and say incredible things about his future? ...wait. what??
"The child’s father and mother were amazed." ~Luke 2:33

The disciples are amazed at Pentecost, too. (And they just finished up 40 days with a previously dead guy--you'd think resurrection would be amazing enough).

Why are we constantly surprised by grace? At some point, you'd think we'd get used to God showing up in our lives... but we never seem to take it seriously. (or maybe our experience fades due to our own preoccupations and then we suddenly re-remember God's goodness when it catches our attention?) I don't mean normality or boredom--we SHOULD delight in the awe and wonder at being in God's presence--but eight days after angels fill the sky and you'd think people would be a tad more expectant  (less 'whaaa???' and more 'wow! It's just like God to do that').

But I confess: it's only been a week since Easter and I'm certainly fighting the temptation to leave it like pastel chalk on the calendar behind me...  Resurrection feels less like a present miraculous reality and more like last Sunday's sermon. 

But what if I expected God to keep showing up? What would unabashed Easter-life look like even after the baskets are packed away? What WOULD it look like for me to expect the fullness of God's life and Spirit? 

Ashes and Myrrh and breath that scatters sin

I'm home from today's stations of the cross--smelling like campfire, myrrh, and frankincense--and filled deeply with gratitude. 

At our stations of the cross tonight, we were supposed to have a fire in the courtyard (because that's where Peter denies Jesus in Luke). But it rained/drizzled/threatened to rain again all morning, so we pushed the fire pit under an overhang and invited people to sit by a pile of logs. (Dark weather is perfect for Good Friday, btw, so the tradeoff wasn't so bad). 

However, when I returned from a break, I was delighted to find that the other pastor (Allen) and our youth minister (Austin) had those logs roaring away! 

Moreover, our last station included packets of 'grave spices' for people to take home (myrrh, frankincense, misc. herbs etc). Well Austin had the great idea of emptying one into the fire, which was perfect since those first two ingredients were solid chunks of incense anyways. The whole place smelled holy. It was beautiful!

...and we finished the night by burning the same slips of paper that people brought to the altar on Ash Wednesday. One of them simply said "sin"; I know because it flew open when I tossed it into the pit and I watched it slowly curl into itself--from the edges in--and shift from white to umber to embers. Soon, the sin in the center was consumed and the whole thing was a powdered remnant that scattered with the toss of a breathe.

"And Jesus called out with a loud voice, 'Father into thy hands I commit my spirit.' And having said this, he breathed his last." --Luke 23:46

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. 

And now we wait for resurrection.  

Wind, weddings, and wine bars

I spent the evening (waif dessert at a wine bar) with a couple who drove into the aftermath of hurricane Katrina. They shared story after miraculous story of generosity and grace (a serendipitous can of orange juice for someone craving it. Diapers and baby food that arrived just as the supply went out. Women who had nothing, but just wanted to be hugged...) but my favorite story involved their reason for driving into the devastation. 

Their son was getting married. 

The wedding had been scheduled long before the hurricane arrived, and while many would have canceled because of crumbling buildings or weeks without power, this couple chose to say their vows. The extra festivities (food and dancing, live band and white dress) would happen later at a "second celebration" but the core of what a wedding should be (prayers and vows and worship) --the deep heart of a wedding's purpose can't be blown away by any wind. 

So the bride spray-painted "worship Sunday at 10am" onto a torn sheet, stretched it across the church front and invited anyone who wanted to join them. Most of the church members had driven north to escape the storm, so the wedding took place among strangers (survivors) who genuinely gathered to worship God --even after storms devastated their lives.

One woman was in tears: "my whole life--everything I have--is destroyed. I don't even have a single shard of a teacup to remember how things were... Yet here you are. Making a new start. A new life amid wreckage. Thank you for letting me witness this! It gives me hope."

Someone brought flowers (to this day, the couple has no idea where they came from or who brought the bouquet and altar flowers). A complete stranger from down the street managed to cook food for the ten or so in the party's family. And the bride spent her honeymoon days sleeping on the hospital floor because she was a nurse and patients were filling all the beds. 

Faithful people are amazing. 

The boats were full

Our Tuesday worship service has settled into a communal bible study --sort of a group lectio divina. And, since I've been reading Luke, our passage this week was Jesus' calling of the disciples on lake Gennesaret (Luke 5:1-11). I've read the passage a million times, but someone else noticed this week that the disciples left everything behind to follow Jesus. Not just the boats and nets and gear, but EVERYTHING--including the miraculously gigantic haul of fish that almost sunk the boats. It may be because artwork usually depicts the boats as empty, but I never realized that the boats left behind we're full. 

 After an exhausting and disappointing night of catching nothing (meaning no fish to eat or sell for their families) they obey Jesus and experience an incredibly successful endeavor. Fishing was their livelihood--Their business--so those boats and nets were full of profits. Success was right in front of them; 

they were going to make bank! 

And they left everything to follow Jesus. 

Now, granted, leaving a boat full of old fish might not seem great for passerbys or downwind neighbors, but what about the crowd who gathered to hear Jesus--what if they were still around? And who listened to Jesus better than the poor? (It was an 8-year-old boy named Elijah, actually, who suggested the fish could go to the poor). What if the would-be disciples landed ashore with boats full of fish and immediately encountered a hungry crowd of Jesus' poor. 

If so, then THAT is the context where Jesus said they would be fishing for people. That's the context where disciples left their profits behind to feed the poor and follow Christ. 

Segregated Heaven

A woman from my church came into the office today looking for a book. She was preparing a program for her women's circle and wanted something about a woman who faced adversity and struggled through--so I gave her Delores William's Sisters in the Wilderness. I warned her that it was a theology book and a little on the heavy side, but especially recommended the first chapter about Hagar the slave-woman from Africa. If ever a woman faced adversity, surely it was Hagar as interpreted through the lens of a black woman.

The woman, in turn, shared with me a story about a black woman who worked for her family--raising the kids and helping with laundry.

"I loved to watch her iron," she said, "because she was always singing. Worship songs, usually. 

One day, I asked her--'May? Is there a white Jesus and a black Jesus?'' 

And she said, 'no child. There's only one God--it's the same for all of us. Why?'

and I said, "because when I get to heaven, I want to be where you are."

...the woman smiled at the memory, laughed about the way that children think--and then said it wasn't all that strange of a question. In the midst of a segregated world, why wouldn't a child think about a segregated heaven? Scripture, of course, insists that--even with our differences--there's only ONE Christ and only one heaven for all of us (Ephesians 4:1-6; Galatians 3:27-28) but the injustices and systemic sins of our world can warp our view of God.

But the flip side is true too: If our heaven isn't segregated, why on earth should our world be?
I doubt that Christ has a giant wall up in heaven to separate one kind of culture from another.
...so why on earth would we build one here? Why would that even start to be a viable political question for people who are praying to make this world more like the Kingdom of God?

Water into Wine

It's been a while since I've posted anything (even though I have plenty to post--there is a ton of material from my trip to South Africa, notes/reflections from prayer stations we used for All Saints Sunday--not to mention pictures from Advent when we followed traced the story of God's presence through the entire Jesse tree)...

But this past Sunday, I preached on John 2:1-12 Jesus' miracle at the wedding in Cana (otherwise known as Jesus turning water into wine).

At first I was drawn to the servants--those who listened to Mary's words ("Do all that he tells you" she said, pointing to Christ) and their willing obedience to Jesus.
They must have drawn a LOT of water. (six stone jars holding 20-30 gallons of water, filled to the brim; that's 120 gallons on the low side. ....calculate that a gallon of water weighs about 8.5 pounds and those servants hauled over a half-ton of weight in water--On TOP of their normal duties as servants). What incredible faithfulness!! How powerful that Jesus' first miracle relied on the participation and obedience of servants.

Then I kept thinking about the miracle itself: the transformation from one substance to another. 

This particular lectionary cycle put that text in the first Sunday of ordinary time--immediately following the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday. Which meant that I was contemplating John 2 while Allen was preaching about baptism and the power of the Holy Spirit that brings transformation into our lives and the lives around us. That's the miracle of sanctification--our pursuit of holiness and Christian perfection happens by God's miracle and our participation (obedience) of that grace.

That's when I noticed the shift from water into wine foreshadows the story of Christ's ministry-- From the waters of Jordan to the wine of the last supper. from baptism to the blood of crucifixion.

So, too, does our Christian faith follow this shift from baptism to a gradual transformation into being Christ-like. Our communion prayer asks that we, like the blood of Christ, would be poured out in obedience and service to the world. And, indeed, the ACT of servant obedience and active participation in God's grace is the very means through which we are transformed and changed.

Thus my final sermon image--a call to holiness, obedience, participation and action (so that as we do everything Christ tells us to do, we would be made into the image of Christ):