On Resurrection Living…

Tags

afraid, Christ, church, death, Easter, Eastertide, eternal life, free, identity, Jesus, life, resurrection, transformation

I have been thinking a lot about death lately.  That probably sounds a bit morbid, but given my profession, should not be much of a surprise.  I think death has been on my mind for lots of reasons:  we celebrated the death of an incredible woman at our parish last week, our Adult Forum series during Eastertide is about death (end of life care, wills, legacy giving, funeral planning), and this Sunday’s lessons, although beloved, are quite common readings for funerals.  Everywhere I turn seems to offer reminders of death, and yet here we are in the season of Easter – a time to honor resurrection – to honor Christ’s victory over death!

One of the reasons we are freed up to talk about death in Eastertide is because death is changed through the resurrection of Christ.  In light of the resurrection, we see our life and death differently.  We proclaim that difference in the Book of Common Prayer at funerals.  “Life is changed, not ended,” we say in the burial office.  Whereas the secular world would have us consume life to its fullest, ignoring the inevitability of death; would have us preserve our bodies and make ourselves look younger to ignore our natural aging; would have us avoid conversations with our loved ones and community about death, the Church says something different.

The Church says Christ’s resurrection changes life so much, talking about death is no longer morbid.  The Church says, the promise of eternal life allows us make those funeral plans with a spirit of joy, not a spirit of dread.  The Church says that our time among the living is meant to bless and honor others, so making that will and designating those legacy gifts to a church are in great congruence with our understanding of resurrection living.  An Adult Forum series on death (or Resurrection Living, as we have called it) or reading lessons from funerals during Eastertide makes perfect sense.  Those exercises free us from seeing death as final, encouraging instead a life of resurrection hope and joy – a life lived in the light of eternal life.  I hope you will join us this week at Hickory Neck as we dive into that new identity and welcome the transformation of life in the light of the resurrection.

Photo credit:  http://www.rlmonline.com/about-rlm/

 

 

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Sermon – John 20.1-18, ED, YB, April 1, 2018

Tags

affirmation, called, church, Easter, encouragement, gift, joy, known, Mary Magdalene, name, reason, Sermon, share

Last weekend, before Holy Week started, our family celebrated my youngest’s fourth birthday.  A dear friend was there and asked me how I was doing, knowing full well that Holy Week and Easter were coming.  I launched into a diatribe about all the things I was juggling – birthday party, work commitments, packing for Spring Break, and the pressures of writing an Easter sermon.  The last complaint caught her attention.  “You’re worried about an Easter sermon?” she asked.  “Oh, yes!” I explained.  “It’s a big day.  The sermon needs to be good!”  She looked at me, dumbfounded, and said to me, in a way that only a best friend can, “You know nobody comes to church on Easter because of the sermon.”

Now as a preacher, you can imagine my ego was a little bruised.  But the more I thought about her observation, the more I realized she was right.  We come to church on Easter for a whole host of reasons.  We come to church on Easter because that is what our family has always done, and the continued observation of Easter somehow connects us to the past, present, and future, creating a sense of belonging and identity.  We come to church on Easter, because we long for a good word – a reminder that even in a tumultuous world, there is the promise of resurrection life, joy, and hope.  We come to church on Easter because we love the music, the flowers, the crowded seats, the Easter attire, and the experience of being a part of community.  And some of us are not sure why we come to church on Easter, but we suspect, or at least hope, we will find something that can revive our weary souls.

I suspect what most of us are hoping for today is an experience like Mary Magdalene’s.  I am not sure Mary knew why she went to the tomb that fateful day.  In John’s gospel, Mary is not there with spices to anoint Jesus’ body.  She does not bring flowers or some memento to leave at the tomb.  In fact, she comes to the tomb in darkness, before the morning light has arisen, perhaps in a fog of knowing she needs something but not sure what that something might be.  And then, not unlike the chaos that may have been your morning to get here on time and half-way presentable, Mary’s life gets thrown into chaos.  An empty tomb means she and the disciples run around like chickens with their heads cut off.  Later, Mary finds herself bemoaning to angels and a stranger alike that she just wants Jesus’ body – a physical reminder of all the horror and love and pain that has happened.  And in the midst of this chaos, a simple, profound thing happens.  Mary is called by her name.[i]  And her world gets turned on its head.

There is something very powerful about being called by your name.  We will frequent restaurants or coffee shops because we love being recognized by name by our favorite barista or shop owner.  If you have ever received a blessing or healing prayer by a person who knew your name, you know the intimacy that is created between the two of you, and the power of hearing your name lifted up to God.  We even try to use nametags here at Hickory Neck because we know how wonderful being known by name feels.  Being known by name creates a feeling of acceptance, affirmation, affection, and acknowledgement.[ii]  I can only imagine the rush of emotions when Jesus calls Mary by name today – not just the recognition of who Jesus is, but the reminder of how much he has loved her.

I suspect we should add that to the list of reasons why we come to church on Easter Sunday.  We want to be known too.  Perhaps we want to literally be called by name.  But perhaps we know just being here creates the same sense of belonging that being known by name creates.  When we sit in these seats today, we know that we are sitting next to someone who is longing for belonging today too – who also rallied to get to church on time – maybe with kids in cute dresses, or maybe just pulling their aching bodies to church.  When we sit in the seats today, we know that we are surrounded by a group of people who also love having their senses overwhelmed – from the smell of fragrant lilies, to the joyous sound of song [brass], to the taste of communion bread and wine, to the sight of fanfare and smiles, to the feel of another hand at the peace.  When we sit in these seats today, we know that we will be offered a word of joy, light, love, hope – and we want our lives to be marked by that same sense of promise.

Now you may feel tempted today to take all that affirmation, encouragement, and joy, and go about the next days on your own personal high – as though the gifts you receive today are solely for you.  But what all this fanfare, acknowledgment, and hope are meant to do is to propel you out into the world.  When Mary is called by name, receiving the blessing of recognition and encouragement, she does not stay at the feet of the resurrected Jesus.  She becomes John’s gospel’s first preacher.  “I have seen the Lord,” Mary says to the disciples.  Now I know some of you will go out from this place today and do just that – you will put on your Facebook page, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen!” or you will hug your neighbor and tell them what a joyous day you just had at church.  But for others of you, sharing today’s joy may take you a little more time, or may look a bit different than proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord,” to your favorite barista.  But what Mary invites us to do today is find our own way of sharing the beautiful gift we receive today – to give someone else the gift of joy and hope, to quietly tell a friend what a cool experience this day was, or to simply call someone else by name – sharing that same sense of belonging and affirmation you receive today.   You came to church this Easter Sunday for something.  Mary invites you to give that something to someone else.  Amen.  Alleluia!

[i] Serene Jones, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 378.

[ii] D. Cameron Murchison, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 380.

A Gift from the Church…

Tags

Christ, church, diversity, Easter, gift, God, Holy Week, Jesus, liturgy, music, pilgrimage, powerful, variety, worship

Photo credit:  https://blueeyedennis-siempre.blogspot.com/2011/04/update-holy-week-poems.html

As a former United Methodist and preacher’s kid turned Episcopal priest, I have a pretty wide range of what I find liturgically inspiring.  I was raised on what I would call the “Ol’ Timey Hymns,” I discovered praise and guitar music in college, I found the joy of call-and-response preaching and participatory music at a primarily African-American church where I was a member, I discovered Anglican choral music at the Cathedral that sponsored me for ordination, I was immersed in “high church” worship during seminary where my alb constantly smelled like incense, I discovered the joys of a paid professional choir who could chant choral matins, and I have served in churches with praise bands.  I have been known to crank up the gospel channel on Sunday mornings on my way to church before listening to traditional chant during the services later that morning.

So imagine my joy when I found a church that seemed to capture a good portion of the variety and breadth of my own liturgical experience.  The diversity of worship at Hickory Neck reveals an embarrassment of riches.  We are so blessed with a variety of liturgical and music leaders that I still do not have a favorite service.  Of course, fitting that diversity into one Sunday can be tricky.  That is one of the millions of reasons why I love Holy Week so much, especially at Hickory Neck!  Over the course of a week, we celebrate Palm Sunday, we lead a quiet compline digitally via Facebook live, our Praise Band leads us in a contemplative Taize service, our Congregational Choir and local ecumenical clergy lead us in a healing service, our Choral Scholars lead us in a beautiful foot washing and altar-stripping service, we retreat into quiet on Good Friday midday, but then our youth lead us in a powerful Stations of the Cross service that night, our liturgical team puts together an amazing Easter Vigil, and then the brass rings in Easter Sunday.  In one week, we get the fullness of Hickory Neck on dazzling display.

I do not know what life is like for you these days.  But if you are in the position to give yourself the gift of Holy Week, I highly recommend it.  The full experience allows you to create a sort of pilgrimage, and certainly makes Easter Day a much more powerful experience.  But even if you can only catch a few services, realize that each night’s service is like a carefully crafted gift, meant to create an encounter between you and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Even if you have been feeling distant from God lately, I know most churches are happy to have you slip into a back pew, take in what you need, and slip back out into the world.  Lord knows I have sometimes showed up at the doors of a church not entirely sure why I was there, but left knowing exactly why the Holy Spirit had drawn me there.  If you do not have a church home and want to join us in the feast of Holy Week, you have a church home at Hickory Neck.  If you are reading from further away, I hope you will share with me your experiences this coming Holy Week.

On Being Called by Name…

Tags

affirmed, baptism, call, church, Episcopal, God, identity, known, loved, name, nickname, pastor, priest, relatedness, role, tension

Photo credit:  blog.sweetcareersconsulting.com/2015/10/what-name-should-you-use-on-linkedin.html

In my line of work, my female colleagues are widely divided on what we should be called.  You see, for years in the Episcopal Church, the male priests were “Father so-and-so.”  In formal writing, it was “the Rev. so-and-so.”  But in the Episcopal Church, priests are not called “Rev. so-and-so” because the word reverend is an adjective, not a noun, and most Episcopalians cannot stand by grammatical errors.  Episcopalians also do not often use “Pastor so-and-so,” as it is considered too protestant.  So, that leaves Episcopalians in a bit of mess with titles for female priests.  Many have taken to calling women “Mother so-and-so,” to create a sense of parity between male and female priests.  But some women despise that address.  And so, female priests tend to be all over the map about what they prefer – from no title at all (simply using their name given at baptism) to Mother, to Reverend (conceding to the grammatical error for the sake of convenience), to Pastor.

So, when I was asked at my local yoga studio what I was called professionally, I had to chuckle.  I told them when I use a title, I prefer Mother Jennifer.  But that I answer to almost anything – Mother Jennifer, Rev. Jen, Pastor Jennifer, or just Jennifer.  But this past week, I added some new favorites.  A toddler in our parish was watching on online broadcast from church.  When her dad asked, “Do you know who that is?” she replied, “That’s Mama Church.”  Just last week, as our ecumenical brothers and sisters helped us host a winter shelter for the homeless in our community, a Roman Catholic volunteer was talking to my husband.  When she realized who he was she said, “Oh, your wife is that little spitfire thing!”

The funny thing is that despite our baptized names, I think we are all living into identities throughout life.  Sometimes we will only be known as our child’s parent – “Simone’s Mom.”  Sometimes we are known by our profession title – Doctor Smith, Nurse Johnson, Professor Green, Colonel Davis.  Sometimes we take on a funny nickname from a particular stage of life – I’ll let your memories recall a few of your own.  What we are called creates meaning, purpose, and identity throughout life.  And sometimes we have nicknames that we do not even know about – whether it’s “spitfire” or something else.

One of the things I love about church is that we work hard to know each other’s names:  sometimes the ones we are baptized with, but sometimes the funny, the serious, and the beloved names.  Those names can make us feel known, loved, and affirmed.  But mostly those names in church remind us that we are known by name by someone else:  our God.  I like to think God is able to hold all our names in tension:  the funny, yet embarrassing ones; the honorific ones; the ones that remind us of our call; the ones that reveal our relatedness.  God knows us better than any one name can contain, and yet I imagine loves every little nuance of our names.  I wonder what names in your life could stand to be let go, and which names invite you to be someone powerful and life-changing.

On Prayer and Connection…

Tags

church, community, connection, God, intentional, petitions, practice, prayer, worthy

Photo credit:  https://www.crosswalk.com/slideshows/10-issues-your-church-should-be-praying-together-about.html

When I was in college, I was involved in the Wesley Fellowship, the United Methodist Campus Ministry.  We gathered every Sunday night for fellowship, a program, and worship.  One of the student leadership roles was the “student pastor” – basically a student who volunteered to be a pastoral presence in the community.  One of the student pastors during my time in Wesley would always carry a small notebook to our Sunday gatherings.  When we got to the time of open prayer requests during worship, he would write notes in his notebook.  Initially, the practice struck me as odd.  What was he writing?  What did he do with those notes?  Assuming he used the notes for his personal prayers that week, did he use them as a checklist?  I never got up the courage to ask any of my questions, so I was left with a bit of skepticism and suspicion.  But also, a little bit of hope – even if he did not use the notes for his prayer life, at least whatever requests were mentioned seemed worthy of his writing them down.

This Lent, I realized that I have basically and unintentionally started doing something similar.  We are trying a new ministry this year at Hickory Neck where each week, 3-6 parishioners or parish families received a postcard from the clergy.  The postcard basically says “I am praying for you this week, and if you want to talk or have coffee, I would love to meet with you.”  Knowing how caught up in the busyness of life I can get, I decided to put the names of those for whom I am praying as an appointment on my calendar.  Everyday, I get a little ping on my phone, reminding me to pray for a specific set of people.  Meanwhile, our church is also hosting a Facebook Live broadcast of compline, or evening prayers, once a week.  In the morning, we put a post on our page, asking for prayer requests, and during the broadcast, people can also submit requests through the website.  This week, I have been using those petitions as another addition to my metaphorical prayer journal.

What I am learning from the two practices, and also incorporating into my prayer life in general, is a more intentional practice of prayer.  When a parishioner tells me about a concern during coffee hour, or when someone drops by my office with a concern, instead of just praying for those concerns as they come in, I incorporate them into my prayers throughout that week.  These practices are having the consequence of making me feel much more connected with my faith community, with the community beyond our church, and with God.  What are some of the practices you have picked up lately – intentional or not – that have brought you closer to God, the church, and the community?  Is there some small change you can make in your daily routine that might help you strengthen those connections?  I look forward to hearing your reflections.

 

On Remembering You Are Dust…

Tags

ash, Ash Wednesday, church, community, failure, gift, God, Lent, liturgy, mortality, vulnerable

Photo credit:  http://www.churchofoursaviour.org/church-events/2018/2/14/ash-wednesday-services

As a priest, I find Ash Wednesday to be the most difficult celebration of the Church.  One might think funerals are harder; but by the time we get to a funeral, the loss has already happened, and the people are gathered for a celebration of life and resurrection.  But Ash Wednesday is much more challenging.  The liturgy is the most honest, vulnerable, and sobering of our liturgies.  We gather in community, stripping away all appearances of success, faithfulness, and achievement, and we confess our deepest failures and separation from God – as if standing naked before our Lord.  And then, a priest rubs gritty ash upon our foreheads, and tells us, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

As someone who has experienced the worship from the pews, I know how powerful the liturgy is.  It’s as if the Church says to us, “I know everyone out there thinks you have it all together.  But we both know the truth – that you have a long way to go before you have it all together.  They see your strength and power; I see your weakness and vulnerability.”  The intimacy of the liturgy, experienced within a community of people going through the same exposure, can be both unnerving and deeply comforting.  Out in the world, we are alone, trying to prove ourselves.  Inside the church walls, we are together, admitting we cannot prove ourselves.

As a priest, I have the privilege of guiding people through that powerful experience.  It is so powerful, that I sometimes struggle to perform the actions the liturgy.  As I say those words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” I know that I am saying those words to a preschooler, who does not fully understand death; to a woman who has battled breast cancer and is in remission; to an elderly man who may be closer to death than we want to admit; to a widow or widower who lost their spouse earlier in life than they should have.  The weight of that pronouncement is palpable every single time I say it – and it makes my own mortality that much more real.

If you have not yet received ashes today, I encourage you find a church or Ashes-to-Go station.  It is a tremendous gift to be seen as you truly are, and to kneel alongside others who are trying to be faithful to the charge God has given us.  And if you cannot make it today, know that the entire season of Lent is available to you to continue the journey of remembering you are dust, and finding purpose before you return to that dust.

Sermon – 1 Samuel 3:1-20, Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17, 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, John 1:43-51, EP2, YB, January 14, 2018

Tags

call, church, discipleship, faithful, Jesus, reaction, relation, relationship, revelation, Sermon

As we celebrate our Annual Meeting and another year of ministry in Jesus Christ through Hickory Neck, we could not have received a better set of lessons.  Today’s lessons are all about discipleship – what being a disciple of Jesus means for us today.  Our lessons tell us discipleship involves relation, revelation, and reaction.

What we first learn about discipleship is relation – that our work as disciples cannot happen without being related to one another.  In Samuel’s almost comical call story, inexperienced Samuel would never have understood that God was trying to speak to him unless he had been in relationship with Eli – his mentor and guide in the life of faith.  Similarly, skeptical Nathaniel would have likely never believed that Jesus could be the Messiah had enthusiastic Philip not said to him, “Come and see.”  Even our lesson from first Corinthians, which perhaps embarrassingly talks about fornication and prositution, shows us that how we relate to others matters – how we use our marvelously made bodies with others matters.

This past year of discipleship at Hickory Neck has similarly and importantly been about relation.  Whether we were talking about race through film, books, or testimony; whether we were sharing a festive meal or taking the holy meal to our homebound members; whether we sharing our stories of giving at Stewardship parties or sharing our faith journeys in confirmation class; whether we were discerning how to modify worship at Hickory Neck or talking with community leaders about how Hickory Neck could address wider needs of our community; whether we were preparing for a quiet day of reflection in Lent or whether we were preparing to welcome a new community onto our property – whatever we did this year, we did so in relation to others.  At Hickory Neck, long-timers and newcomers alike are needed when we are discerning the call of God on our common life.  At Hickory Neck, when changes big and small are being made, we do so with the input of others – both inside and outside of the community – to ensure our discernment is reflective of our related nature through Christ.  At Hickory Neck, we experience God most when we relate to one another through deep, meaningful, vulnerable relationships that rely on trust in one another and on our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  We are Samuels who cannot discern God’s voice without Elis, and we are Nathaniels, who cannot believe what we are hearing without Philips.  Our discipleship is impossible without relation.

After relation, the second thing we learn from our lessons today about discipleship is revelation.  When skeptical Nathaniel responds to Philip’s invitation to come and see, and he meets Jesus, he asks Jesus how Jesus knows him.  Jesus responds, “I saw you.”  Likewise, upon the third interruption of Eli’s sleep, Eli finally realizes that Samuel is not sleepily confused; Eli realizes God is trying to speak to Samuel.  Furthermore, when Eli sees Samuel the next morning, his insistence on knowing what God said to Samuel reveals his own sin and his own coming punishment.  Even Paul’s letter to the Corinthians reveals to them how important their bodies are.  When the psalmist says God created us, knit us together, and we are marvelously made, Paul understands that those wonderful bodies God made are meant to be used for the glory of God.

The more we committed to our relationships at Hickory Neck over this past year, the more we began to experience revelation through those relationships.  When our Tuesday night seekers group invited our brothers and sisters from New Zion Baptist Church to a joint Bible Study, all sorts of beautiful, hard revelations were experienced that night.  When our liturgical task forces worked to define and discern what God was doing at Hickory Neck through worship, we discovered new and beautiful ways we could honor the abundant liturgical variety found in these walls.  When an outstanding mortgage was weighing on our budget or when longtime givers moved on from Hickory Neck, we realized how our giving could impact change at Hickory Neck.  And our budding relationship with the Kensington School has been full of revelation by the Holy Spirit – from sensing within the Vestry that the time had come to think again about a school, to discerning with community leaders that a school was indeed needed, to responding immediately when Charlie got word that Kensington was looking in our neighborhood, to developing a relationship so strong that Kensington would choose to come to Hickory Neck as opposed to another location, God used our relationships to reveal new, different possibilities for ministry.

In some ways, relation and revelation might be the easy parts of discipleship.  The harder part is that third part of discipleship:  reaction.  When Paul writes that letter to the Corinthians, Paul is able to say some hard things about the ways his friends are using their bodies.  The Corinthians could have used that revelation to linger in shame or guilt.  But Paul has a different idea. “Glorify God in your body,” Paul says.  Paul calls the community to change.  When Philip shares his experience with Jesus with Nathaniel, Philip’s story is not an idle tale.  “Come and see,” Philip says.  Philip issues an invitation to action.  And when Eli counsels Samuel what to do about the voice he keeps hearing, Samuel needs to say the words, “Speak for your servant is listening.”  In each of these stories, when something dramatic is revealed through relationship, true discipleship means answering with reaction – doing something in response.

This past year, Hickory Neck has embraced this last part of discipleship with vigor.  When our neighbors needed shelter this past winter, even when our community would have preferred to keep our treasured tradition of a Mardi Gras party, we opened our doors and found new ways to celebrate and care for one another and the wider community.  When we realized that our neighbors were longing for relationship with Christ and our welcome on Sunday mornings was not enough, we developed new ways to invite others to church, and new ways to help newcomers feel more connected once they found their way to Hickory Neck.  When we realized how deep and wide the stain of slavery on our nation was, we welcomed a stranger from Ghana into our home, and found a new friend and a deeper commitment to dealing with our own demons.  When we found new ways to use our property – either through new worship experiences, creating space for community leaders to offer healing yoga to our neighbors in need, or agreeing to step into a rapidly moving process of welcoming a school – we prayed, pondered, and wondered – but eventually said yes.

As I looked back on this year in preparation for our Annual Meeting, I was overwhelmed by the faithful discipleship of Hickory Neck.  We have taken to heart the steps of relation, revelation, and reaction, and said yes time and again.  Being in relation to one another is not easy – look at how hard our country is struggling to stay in relationship with one another.  And yet, the Hickory Neck community takes the uncomfortable and is unwavering.  Welcoming revelation is also not easy – holding up a mirror to our behavior can be scary.  And yet, the Hickory Neck community embraces that vulnerability with boldness.  Being willing to react is not easy either – answering the call to come and see, or saying, “Here I am,” involves strength and commitment.  And yet, the Hickory Neck community trustingly takes on the challenge, and acts with passion and vigor.  I cannot fully express to you how incredibly proud I am of you for all that you have done this year for the sake of the Gospel.  Your discipleship has been an inspiration to me, as I seek each day to faithfully serve Christ as his disciple too.  Of course, the work of discipleship is never done – we will continue to need to commit to the work of relation, revelation, and reaction.  But for today, in this moment of reflection and celebration, know that you are doing good work in the name Christ, glorifying God in your bodies.  Well done, good and faithful servants.  I feel privileged to work alongside you!

Sermon – Luke 2.1-14, CE, YB, December 24, 2017

Tags

chaos, Christmas Eve, church, God, holy, Holy Family, Jesus, life, love, manger, peace, silent, story, worship

Sometimes arriving at the manger on Christmas Eve feels a bit like just barely sliding into home plate.  When little ones are around, you have scurried about, making sure their tights and bowties are on, while trying to squeeze in one last family picture while everyone still looks nice.  By now, you have probably served or been served a meal, purchased and wrapped gifts, prepped or cooked food for tomorrow, sent out cards, decorated the house, and run countless errands.  And none of that includes the four hundred things that will be done in the next twenty-four hours.  Arriving here and semi-put together is a minor victory, with the promise of a peaceful, beautiful hour of worship, before preparing for the chaos to resume tomorrow.

The unfortunate thing is that the story of tonight is not all that much less chaotic.  Though we sing songs like Silent Night or Away in a Manger, or though we exchange cards with pastoral, peaceful settings, nothing about that night is silent.  And I am pretty sure the little Lord Jesus makes lots of cries.  The chaos of the holy family is not unlike the chaos in which we sometimes find ourselves.  Remembering how scandalous Mary’s pregnancy and relationship with Joseph are, the chaos continues as Emperor Augustus sends out a decree that forces a very pregnant, uncomfortable Mary away from her hometown to the crowded city of Bethlehem.  Before they can secure housing, Mary goes into labor.  Not only is she dealing with the drama of delivering a child for the first time ever, she is delivering without so much as the comfort of a home.  And then, just as they are trying to figure out nursing, and soothing, and the fear and wonder of parenting, along come some rowdy, likely filthy, shepherds, who have also not had a silent night.  In fact, they have heard the terrifying chorus of the heavenly host and been told a most preposterous story – so much so, they gather up their livestock and come to see.

With all the chaos of our own lives, and with all the mayhem of that holy night, why do we do it?  Why do we come to church at all?  Maybe we come to church on this night specifically because on this night, more than perhaps any night ever, we find the wonderful revelation that God can take the messy chaos of life and make our mess holy.  You see, as much as we love tonight’s beautiful story, what happens this night is beyond the chaos of registrations, no vacancies, angelic revelations, and messy encounters with strangers.  In order to understand the enormity of what is happening tonight, we broaden our scope.  Tonight’s event – the nativity of our Lord –  is the culmination of a much larger story.  The story started when there was no earth or humankind, when God formed the earth from the formless void.  When we first sinned against God and were cast out of the garden, to when we kept sinning and God flooded the world, to our deliverance from the hands of pharaoh and our arrival in the promised land, to our sinful desires for a king that led to the eventual confiscation of our land.  We are a people who have been oppressed so many times and rescued so many times we can barely count.  And in that rollercoaster of a relationship with our God, as we failed time and again, God, who never gives up and never cedes love, does something unheard of:  takes on human flesh, comes to us in the form of a vulnerable child, with the plan of redeeming us forever and granting us eternal life.

Maybe we come to church tonight because tonight is about God’s unending, undying, unfailing, uncompromising love for us.  Despite centuries of chaos, disobedience, and failures, God shows up tonight in a mighty way.  Despite the chaos of the times and of this night, God shows up among the outcast.  Despite the chaos of our own times, in our seeming inability to tend to those most outcast, God comes once more to redeem us.  We come to church tonight because we long to grasp the enormity of God’s love for us, the extents to which God will go for us, and the hope which only God can give to us.

But the news is even better than that.  I do not believe the beauty of tonight is in trying to find a holy moment, where God’s love speaks to us in an otherwise chaotic life.  In fact, you might not find that moment tonight because despite the fact that you were physically able to get here, your mind may still be somewhere else.  The good news is that is okay.  The deep, lasting peace of this night is not found in a single church service (though I must say, the service certainly helps).  The deep, lasting peace we are looking for comes from the reality that we do not find God’s love and peace in spite of the chaos of life.  Tonight teaches us that God hallows the chaos of life.

Based on our standards, God should have placed this precious child – the God incarnate – in the wealthiest, most well-guarded palace, where a person of great wealth could have given the baby everything the baby needed.  A person of power could have protected the child, brought honor to the child, raised the child up to assume the power of a Messiah.  If we had something so precious, we certainly would have worked to find the best of what we have to protect that preciousness.  And yet, God takes on flesh in an unmarried, inconsequential woman of little means.  God takes on flesh amidst the common people, being born in the lowliest of estates.  God takes on flesh and announces the news not to kings and rulers, but to shepherds – those disregarded by society as being of little import.  From the very beginning, the extraordinary thing God does is done in the midst of the ordinary – worse yet, among the marginalized and outcast.

God takes the mess of life:  our divisions, our stratifications by class, gender, and race, our subjugation of the poor, our inability to refrain from sin, our messes and chaos – and God makes our mess holy.  God sanctifies our chaos, reminding us that in the midst of chaos, God is present.   In the midst of chaos, God is doing a new thing through us.  In the midst of chaos, God is love and makes us agents of love.  I cannot promise that the chaos will not try to overtake you when you walk out the church door tonight.  But just like you will find small glimpses tonight of the overwhelming love God has for you, you can find God present in the chaos of life too.  God is continually breaking through, birthing in you Christ’s light and love, using you to make room in the world for the Christ child, using you to announce good news of great joy for all people.  If that doesn’t break though the chaos, I don’t know what will!  Amen.

On Finding a Hand…

Tags

Blue Christmas, broken, Christmas, church, grief, hand, joy, loneliness, Mary, sadness, sorrow, walk, winter solstice

Photo credit:  https://sinceileft.com/2014/06/11/118/

Tomorrow night is the longest night of the calendar year in the northern hemisphere – the winter solstice, when the earth reminds us how little light these days have.  We mark the longest night at our church with a service called Blue Christmas, acknowledging the ways in which Christmas can also be devoid of light for many of us.  For some, the reasons are obvious:  grief over the loss of a loved one, broken marriages or other relationships, illness, or loneliness.  For others, the reasons are a bit more ambiguous:  a recognition that the world around you seems filled with happiness, and yet, there is a dull sadness or pain aching inside that is oddly out of place.

What is interesting about the Blue Christmas service is that there are years when I feel like I really need the service, and there are years that I do not realize how much I needed it until I am there.  I think that is because there is a way in which our culture romanticizes Christmas, creating inevitable shortcomings.  Even when you are happy, have created the perfect meal, are enjoying a long-held tradition, there is someone who is not there, some hurt that is not addressed, some bit of life that is unresolved.  All of that is true most days – but the expectations of Christmas are unrealistic that cannot be met fully.

I think that is why I cling to Mary so much this time of year.  Mary always lived in a world of joy and sorrow, of blessings and curses.  The news of her pregnancy made her shout for joy, but also reminded her of how broken the world was to need such a savior.  The joy she experienced of new birth was matched by the promise of sacrificial death.  Mary lived in the “both-and;” the ambiguity always present in life.  I like to suppose she cherished the joys as much as she could:  the joys of a baby kicking in her womb, even as the neighbors stared and judged her unwedded state; the thrill of holding a new baby, even in the most rustic of accommodations; the miracle of new life, even if the miracle can only really happen in his death.  It is in times like this time of year I long to hold Mary’s hand and walk with her for a while.

If you need a place to put your messy feelings this year, or you need a Mary to walk with you, I invite you to join us for our Blue Christmas service.  But if you cannot make it tomorrow, know that Hickory Neck is a place that always has an open hand, ready to walk with you whatever the time of year is, and whatever you are facing.  You are not alone.

On Generations of Generosity…

Tags

abundance, celebration, church, commitment, compassion, faithful, future, generations, generosity, giving, God, journey

Photo credit:  https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-athletes-way/201510/small-acts-generosity-and-the-neuroscience-gratitude

This past week, my daughter and I were out shopping for a birthday gift for a friend.  As we were doing the self-checkout, the computer asked us if we would like to donate to charity.  I quickly tapped “no,” and my daughter was incensed.  “Don’t you want to help, Mommy?!?”  As we walked back to our car, I explained how we do help others.  She seemed incredulous, so I detailed our charitable giving, starting with what we give to the church.

Though she seemed mildly satisfied, our conversation made me realize a couple of things.  First, I could stand to have more explicit conversations with our children about our giving to church.  We already talk about budgets, treats, and how we spend money otherwise.  I realize now that our eldest may be ready to understand the commitment we make to church too.  Second, my daughter’s initial indignation is really good thing.  Her frustration with me reveals a sense of compassion and generosity that I was not sure she had fully developed.

This Sunday in church, we are celebrating lots of things.  We are celebrating the 100^th anniversary of the consecration of our historic church.  After hundreds of years of our church being used as a school and hospital, a faithful community gathered once again in 1917 for the original purpose of the building – to worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.  We are also celebrating the paying off of our mortgage on our newest worship space.  After one final push this summer, and years of generosity before, we are able to be debt free!  We are also celebrating In-Gathering Sunday: a day where we offer our pledge cards for blessing.  These pledge cards indicate our commitment to the upcoming year of ministry, and reflect our journey toward generosity.

As these three celebrations combine into one day, I am ever aware of Hickory Neck’s own journey to generosity.  From the faithful who worked to reestablish our church after years of dormancy, to the faithful who saw a vision of a more modern, spacious place of worship just over ten years ago, to the faithful who see the new things budding at Hickory Neck and want to be a part of that growing community, we are a community who has always been on a journey to generosity.  I am grateful for the chance to celebrate together, especially for the ways in which our celebration is an example for the future generations who are also being shaped into faithful servants of compassion and generosity.  From the past and present, and into the future, I see God’s abundance all around us!