Sermon – Acts 16.9-15, E6, YC, May 26, 2019

Tags

blessing, community, convergence, conversation, conversion, divine, evangelism, faithfulness, God, guidance, Jesus, Lydia, obvious, Paul, Sermon, spiritual

Before I went to seminary, I participated in a program at my parish called EFM – Education for Ministry.  I know many Hickory Neck parishioners have done the program, but for those of you who are unfamiliar, the program is a four-year program where a small group of people gather and each year study a different topic – Old Testament, New Testament, Church History, and Theology.  When I was taking the class, during one of the scripture years, I was traveling by plane alone and I was sorely behind in my scripture reading.  So I threw my overly large study bible into my bag, planning to use flight time and layover time in airports to catch up on my scripture reading.  Now, I do not know if you have ever thought about taking a huge study bible along with you to an airport, but I would encourage you to think long and hard before you do.  Over the course of the day I found I could barely read in peace.  I had a middle-aged woman chat endlessly about her church and bible studies she had enjoyed.  And of course, there were tons of people who just stared at me warily trying to figure out what my angle was and making sure they had a ready escape just in case.  You would think the lesson from my trip would be, “Take a Bible with you, and see what evangelism opportunities the Bible creates.”  But to be honest, I found myself wanting to never carry a Bible with me again in an airport.

These days, I find wearing a collar has a similar effect.  Just this week, I was in a parking lot and some man approached me about giving money to his ministry.  After I agreed to take some information instead of giving him cash, he asked me what the thing around my neck was.  When I told him I was an Episcopal priest, he gave me a smirk, and kind of grunted as he turned away and looked for his next “customer.”  Most often when I am in my collar, people stare – sometimes discretely, but other times I have to catch their eye before they realize how blatantly they are staring.  Other times – probably my favorite times – people will tentatively ask me if I am clergy and then will ask some really interesting questions, sometimes even asking me for a prayer.

I get to have a lot of God conversations because of my collar.  But when I am in plain clothes, and I imagine for most of us here, finding ways to engage others about faith is trickier.  We certainly could lug around a huge study bible.  We could print up some Hickory Neck gear and either hope people talk to us, or make sure the gear says “Ask me about my church!”  We could get really bold and when we are at the coffee shop put up a little sign that says, “Ask me about Jesus and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”  Or we could take the opposite tack, and just hope not only someone will randomly talk to us, but also the conversation will magically shift toward spirituality, church, or God.

Truthfully, when most of us think about evangelism or having spiritual conversations, we kind of wish we could be a little like Paul in our scripture lesson today.  Paul travels from town to town, receives direct instruction from God about where he should go, and when he and his group talk with a group of praying women, one of them – in fact, a prominent, powerful woman of wealth, not only decides to be baptized, but also invites Paul and his group to stay in her home.  When we think about evangelism, or at least the baptismal covenant promise we make to share Good News, we want something similar.  We want God to be super obvious about where we should go and to whom we should speak.  We want to know if the coffee shop, the grocery store, or the brewery will be the place where we can avoid awkwardness and have a meaningful conversation.  We would love to know we are going to talk to a group of spiritually-minded people who are open to what we have to say.  And, secretly, we would be thrilled if whatever conversation we have leads to a total conversion – someone as enthusiastic as Lydia who wants to come with us to church on Sunday.  If Jesus, the church, or our crazy clergy keep insisting that we talk to people in our community and have God conversations, we at least want to be assured we will have as smooth of an experience as Paul.

But that’s the funny thing about Paul’s experience.  Paul does not really seem to know how to handle this evangelism thing much better than us.  In the verses of Acts before our text today, we are told that Paul starts out for Asia, but the Holy Spirit prevents him from going there.  As Paul keeps trying cities on the way to Europe, he finally has a dream where a man from Macedonia implores him to come and help.  But once Paul finally makes his way to Macedonia, the man from his vision never appears.  In fact, Paul and his crew hang out for several days in the city, not seeming to do anything.  Not until the sabbath does Paul seek out people who are already worshiping.  Paul does not approach strangers or people whose faith is unknown to him.  Instead, he finds the familiar – people of his own tradition, praying to God, and there he decides to share his faith.  And although Paul thought he was bringing blessing to others, Lydia is the one who brings blessing to him – offering her home and hospitality, and continuing to do so when Paul gets in trouble with the law (which is a story for next week!).

At the heart of what happens in our story today is what theologian Ronald Cole-Turner calls the “inexplicable convergence of human faithfulness and divine guidance.”  According to Cole-Turner, “Paul would not have been guided to this place at this moment, were he not first of all at God’s disposal, open to being guided, sensitively attuned to being steered in one direction and away from all others.  Lydia would not have arrived at this place or time, had she not first of all been a worshiper of God, a seeker already on her way.  Paul does his part and Lydia hers, but it is God who guides all things and works in and through all things, not just for good but for what would otherwise be impossible.”[i]

That is our invitation today: to be faithful.  To be willing to listen to God, to be willing to speak, even when we worry what others might think of us, and to be willing to listen to and honor the story of others.  That is really all Paul does – rather clumsily, but faithfully.  And we can be faithful in that way – on the golf course, at work or school, at the local eatery, because we know that there will be an inexplicable convergence of our faithfulness with divine guidance.  We can be faithful because we know God will show up.  God will make sure we have that casual conversation that leads to us talking about why in the world we would work so hard to get ourselves and/or our families here every Sunday.  Jesus will make sure that when someone is sharing something vulnerable or painful with us, we will be able to name God’s presence in the midst of their experience.  The Holy Spirit will make sure that when we open our mouths, despite the fact we have no idea what to say, something meaningful will be said.  Divine guidance will be there because of our human faithfulness.  Inexplicably converging, and working for good.  I cannot wait to hear your stories of convergence!  Amen.

[i] Ronald Cole-Turner, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 476.

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On Finding God in Community…

Tags

bubble, building, church, community, conversation, encounter, God, home, meet, moments, people, property

Photo credit:  https://www.spottie.com/blog/meeting-new-people-30

One of the quirks of being a priest is that my work is often outside of the church.  Whether I am meeting a newcomer for coffee, catching up with a parishioner over lunch, or visiting someone in the hospital, I am more often out in the community than sitting in the church office.  The challenge with that mode of operating is that I sometimes find myself with an extra hour here or there between commitments.  So I often take work with me – catching up on emails, reading for a class or sermon, or doing some writing.

Lately, that pattern has meant having all kinds of interesting encounters.  The other day I met someone who was a former parishioner of my church while buying a cup of coffee.  While responding to emails, someone who recognized me from barre class introduced herself to me, realizing we had never formally introduced ourselves, but that she had seen me around town several times.  While doing some writing while waiting for routine maintenance in the local car dealership, one of the salesmen came over to say he was one of my neighbors and we had not yet met.  Sometimes you even have to leave your home to meet those closest to your home!

Research tells us in order to grow your church community, you need to get off the property.  If you want to get to know the people who are not joining you every Sunday, you need to go where they are on the other days of the week.  Of course, just drinking coffee does not mean you will magically meet people – you do actually have to engage others in conversation – even if it is about car brand loyalty, or your favorite new drink on the coffee menu.  Getting off the property allows us to meet people where they are – and to see God in all the wonderful, myriad places God likes to hang out.  Though there are other ways to do that in reverse – holding a Fiber Festival, welcoming a school to your property – you really have to do both to have those God-moments.

All that being said, I confess, I sometimes have an easier job of talking about God.  The collar is dead giveaway.  But my invitation to you is the same.  Take a moment to get out of your bubble.  Go to an event to which you wouldn’t normally go, linger in a coffee shop you do not regularly frequent, or get even more bold, and take your committee meeting off campus and go public.  If you need some Hickory Neck gear to break the ice, I can help you out.  But my guess is you will find those God moments just by being you.  I cannot wait to hear about who you meet and what you learn!

Sermon – Job 42.1-6, 10-17, Mark 10.46-52, P25, YB, October 28, 2018

Tags

Bartimaeus, belong, blessed, community, conversation, God, Jesus, Job, judge, relationship, Sermon, speak, stewardship, suffering, transformation

If ever there was a confluence of people not “getting it,” in holy scripture, today is that day of confluence.  First, we have the Job story.  Many of us are thrilled to hear the victorious ending of Job today.  After weeks of following Job’s story – from the fateful bargain between God and Satan, to Job’s suffering, to those around him cajoling him to give up on God – we finally arrive at the great redemption of Job.  But what I love most about this last chapter of Job is not what we heard, but the verses we skipped.  The verses we skipped are about Job’s friends, his friends who have tried and tried to tell Job what he has done wrong, what he needs to change, why all this bad stuff is happening to him.  In verses 7-9, God expresses God’s anger at Job’s friends, saying, “you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.”  At least, the New Revised Standard Version translates the text that way.  But the original Hebrew does not say, “you have not spoken of me,” but “you have not spoken to me.”[i]  In other words, the friends of Job talked and talked to Job – but never to God.  They sat and mourned with Job, but when they opened their mouths, they did not open them in petition to God.  They just ran their mouths, spouting all sorts of unhelpful nonsense.

We could argue the same of the followers of Jesus.  They are faithfully following Jesus toward Jerusalem, presumably the innermost circle of Jesus’ followers.  When blind beggar Bartimaeus shouts out to Jesus, their immediate response is to shut him down.  We are not clear if they are embarrassed by this filthy beggar’s presumptuous cries, or they feel as if the beggar is breaking protocol for appropriate ways to seek healing, or they just think Jesus is above helping this person in need.  Regardless, their immediate reaction is to shut him down, push him aside, shush him into oblivion.  The crowd following Jesus assumes they knew better and they presume to speak for Jesus about when, how, and to whom God offers healing or blessing.  They never speak to Jesus himself.

The summer I spent as a hospital chaplain, I saw this sort of behavior all the time.  Hospitals can be places of deep despair and suffering.  The hospital can be the place where we face our mortality, where a diagnosis changes the course of our lives, or where decisions have to be made that no one ever wants to make.  In that thin place of life and death, all sorts of things are said, much of which is an attempt to make sense of things that do not make sense.  I cannot tell you the number of times a patient was blamed for their fate by a family member, a patient began to question their life choices, or a friend blamed God for the patient’s suffering.  When there was no medical solution, those who were suffering seemed to be looking for something or someone to blame.  Those were the times when devastatingly hurtful things were claimed or God was used as a weapon instead of a companion.

We could easily wag our fingers at the friends of Job or at the followers of Jesus or even those patients and family members in the hospital, saying in exasperation, “When will those people ever get it?!?”  We fancy ourselves as Jobs or Bartimaeuses.  But that is not where God is speaking to us today.  God sees us in the crowds today.  God sees us as we saddle up to friends, and instead of simply listening or affirming someone’s frustrations or sufferings, we offer explanations and answers, we think of hundreds of “if you just would do this” solutions, or we even act as judge, thinking of reasons why maybe they, in fact, deserve this suffering.  God sees us as we scold a panhandler or judge a family living in a motel.  God sees us when we judge someone’s addiction or mental health challenges as if they are not medical conditions.  God sees us secretly wonder about whether someone’s suffering is a result of “bad karma.”

This summer, in the days before General Convention started, the House of Bishops held a listening liturgy for victims of sexual abuse in the church.  The first-person accounts of twelve men and women were read by bishops.  Unlike most of General Convention, where one person after another makes impassioned, but time-limited speeches at a podium, this was an opportunity to simply listen, to let the painful words fall on those gathered, and to make space for painful truth.  The liturgy was made all the more powerful by having male and female bishops in purple clericals saying the words aloud – in essence, taking on the victim’s pain through their own voices, and ultimately, demonstrating the pain of individual victims belongs to the entire church.  Resolutions, covenants, and task forces would follow, but for that hour and a half, everyone stopped and sat in the ashes, not presuming to speak for God, not explaining the suffering away like the friends of Job, or not trying to stifle the voices of the suffering like the crowd around Jesus.

The counter example to the friends of Job and the crowds are Job and Bartimaeus.  Job could easily listen to his friends and turn his suffering inward, accepting his suffering is somehow his own fault or assuming his suffering is God’s way of casting Job out of favor and relationship.  But unlike Job’s friends, who God proclaims refuse to speak to God in the midst of suffering, Job does nothing but speak for about forty chapters.  Instead of abandoning his relationship with God as his friends do, Job does something different.  “In the midst of his dark night, he dares to tell the truth of his life to his Creator.  By lamenting, complaining, and shouting his discontent to the God he believes to be attacking him, he keeps his relationship with God alive.”[ii] As Biblical scholar Kathleen O’Connor explains, “In the midst of his abyss, Job holds fast to God; he argues, yells, and acts up in courage and fidelity; Job clings to his dignity as a human, maintains his integrity, and sets it without qualification before God.”[iii]  Job understands that suffering is not an occasion to walk away from God, but to stay in brutally honest, painful, vulnerable conversation with God.

Bartimaeus seemed to embrace a similar relationship with Jesus.  When Bartimaeus needs healing, he shouts out to Jesus – an uncouth, ugly, socially unacceptable, raw cry to Jesus.  And when the crowd shushes him, he cries out even more loudly.  Where the crowd wanted boundaries around Bartimaeus’ relationship with Jesus, Bartimaeus understands that relationship means staying in conversation, calling God to account, demanding presence with God.

Now the fact that Job is restored to wealth and wholeness and Bartimaeus’ sight is restored is not really the point.  We could easily and cheaply want to say, “all you need to do is cry out to God and you get whatever you want.”  You and I both know from firsthand experience that that is not how God works.  As O’Connor explains, “It is not true that good things always come to good people, but it is true, as Job discovers, that new experience of life requires new ways of speaking to God.”[iv]  What we see today in scripture is a model of how to engage with God throughout all of life’s journeys – the joys, the sorrows, the celebrations, the suffering.  We are not promised a happy ending, but we are promised a transformed life when we stay in active, vulnerable, ugly conversation with God.

Today we are celebrating our blessing to belong to this faith community, and are offering our financial pledges to support the work and ministry of this place that has blessed us beyond measure.  But our invitation today from scripture is to also celebrate the way in which we belong to God.  For some of us, that invitation will be quite easy.  We may be in a place where our love for the Lord is abundant, and we can happily proclaim our love.  For others of us, that celebration may be more difficult, because, quite frankly, we are a bit angry with God, have lost trust in God, or are just trying to make it through this day.  Part of our responsibility as a community who is blessed to belong here at Hickory Neck is embracing each one of us here and wherever we are in that journey with God.  The blessing of this community is that no one here is going to be like the crowd or the friends of Job, telling you to get your relationship right with God.  But we will sit with you in your suffering and celebrate the transformation of your life in Christ.  Because we know part of being blessed to belong here at Hickory Neck means you will do the same for us someday.  And that is a community I want to belong to everyday!  Amen.

[i] Rolf Jacobson, “Sermon Brainwave #629 – Ordinary 30 (Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost),” October 20, 2018, http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1068, as found on October 24, 2018.

[ii] Kathleen M. O’Connor “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 196.

[iii] O’Connor, 198.

[iv] O’Connor, 194.

Sermon – Mark 9.38-50, P21, YB, September 30, 2018

Tags

belong, belonging, blessed, church, conversation, disciples, generous, giving, God, Jesus, Sermon, stewardship, wideness

This week we kickoff a season of stewardship called, “Blessed to Belong.”  You will be receiving packets of information as you leave today from our Stewardship Committee and you have also all been invited to a Stewardship party.  Several of those parties are coming up, but a few of us have already attended parties, and the conversations about belonging have been rich and engaging.  We are sharing stories of how we found a sense of belonging in this community, the ways in which our belonging here has blessed our lives, and the dreams we have to deepen those ties of belonging.  The conversations have already been life-giving to me, and I am looking forward to having those conversations with the rest of you.

But as I read our gospel text this week in preparation for today, I realized the text is pushing us a step further.  You see, when most of us talk about belonging to Hickory Neck, we often share our stories of personal belonging:  how we were welcomed, how we were cared for, and how our lives have become more blessed by this place.  That work is especially important as we think about our financial giving, because our sense of belonging impacts our giving.  We support the ministry of Hickory Neck because Hickory Neck is an important part of our lives.  We give generously because we have been generously blessed.  We increase our giving because we want that sense of belonging, identity, and purpose to continue for ourselves and generations to come.  We give out of a sense of personal investment, commitment, and benefit.

But our gospel lesson today challenges us to think about belonging in a way that is even bigger than us.  Often times, when we talk about our faith or our spiritual journey, we talk about our personal connection to Hickory Neck or to God:  how God has changed our lives, how Jesus has journeyed with us, how the Holy Spirit has led us out of dark places.  But our spiritual journey is not just about us – about our own personal walk with God.  Certainly our gospel lesson last week was about that.  Jesus called out the disciples for arguing about who was the best among them.  Our work this past week was about checking ourselves, making sure we do not become so self-focused that we forget what Jesus is trying to do through us.  Our work this past week has been about examining the self.

But this week, as the disciples journey on with Jesus, we realize the disciples have shifted from a self-centered mentality, to a group-centered mentality.  The disciples have basically shifted from wondering who among them will be the greatest disciple of all time, to how they as a group are the greatest community of disciples of all time.  The disciples discover an outsider casting out demons in Jesus’ name.  John proudly boasts to Jesus, “Don’t worry Jesus, we tried to stop him because he is not following us.”  In other words, this demon-caster did not belong to the inside group, or even follow behind the inside group, so he certainly could not proclaim to do anything in the name of Jesus.  He needs to belong to believe and to become.

I moved around a lot as a kid, and one of the things that I learned pretty quickly is that there are distinct groups, and belonging to one of them is a tricky endeavor.  There are the cool kids, whose belonging standards seem to be about fashion, looks, and behavior.  There are the smart kids, who are rarely confused as being fashionable, but whose knowledge can be intimidating.  There are the athletes, who have played more and with better teams than you can imagine.  There are the alternative kids, who seem define themselves as being the anti-all-the-other-groups group.   The list goes on and on.  What typically defines these groups is who is out:  who is not cool enough, smart enough, athletic enough, or anti-establishment enough.

The disciples are doing the exact same thing.  In a quest to gain importance, and in the face of Jesus’ rebuke last week, the disciples do more of the same.  They shift from arguing about who among them is the best to who outside of them should not be let inside the group.  The difference is subtle:  they are superficially following Jesus’ instruction to not compete for individual advancement, but they are totally disregarding Jesus’ point by seeking group superiority in the same way they were seeking individual superiority.

Jesus sighs deeply (or at least I imagine him doing so) and he tells them something simple, “whoever is not against us is for us.”  In other words, the disciples belong to Jesus and have incredible value.  But they are not the only ones who belong.  Even the guy who has no idea what he is doing but knows there is something special about this Jesus – so special he tries invoking his name – even that guy belongs to Jesus.  Jesus’ standards are pretty low – if you aren’t against him, you are for him.  Jesus casts a pretty wide net for belonging.  In fact, if we keep reading, we come to find out that even those who are against Jesus can be redeemed.  Look at Paul’s life and you can hear that old hymn coming back to you, “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea…”  In Jesus’ eyes, there are few barriers to belonging – and even those can be broken down in time.

So what does this all mean for Hickory Neck and those warm, fuzzy feelings we have for this wonderful place and these beautiful people?  A few things.  The sense of belonging we feel here happens because generations of people have espoused Jesus’ words, “whoever is not against us is for us.”  This amazing community is amazing because people who belong here do not hoard their belonging or use their belonging as a weapon.  Instead, people give belonging away freely because they experienced belonging freely.  Just ask Bill Teale, and he will tell you how within weeks of joining Hickory Neck, he was considered “belonging” enough that he was given the position of chair of the Fall Festival – an event he had never attended!

The sense of belonging we feel is because we have adopted certain standards of behavior.  We are a community who will not get in your way because you do not have the right credentials; we know we may not have had the right credentials once upon a time, and we would rather hang that millstone around our necks that get in your way and in the way of something amazing God is going to do through you.  We are also a community that is working so hard on ourselves that we do not really judge your work; the hands, and eyes, and salt reserves we need to tend to ourselves teach us not to judge the challenges of your hands, eyes, or salt.  But instead of stopping at humility, we go the next step, and offer you a hand as you struggle with your own stuff.

The sense of belonging you feel here is because members of this community give generously from their abundance to ensure that this community continues to be a place of belonging to all those who are making their way to Jesus.  That is what today’s gospel lesson is really trying to teach us.  The wideness of God’s mercy and the broadness of God’s love are what inspire us to make this amazing community a community of belonging, believing, and becoming.  We invest our resources here because we learn here what that wideness and broadness feels like, and we want to be agents of expansion.  We want to step out of our tendencies to become self-centered or in-group-centered,[i] and create a community that is so wide that all feel a loving embrace when they walk through our doors.

In the coming weeks, I encourage you to pray about your own experiences in blessing and belonging at Hickory Neck, and how your own financial giving reflects that blessing.  I invite you to meditate on moments of blessing and belonging at Hickory Neck, and consider how your financial giving can create more of those moments.  I challenge you to talk to your Hickory Neck friends about their journey of blessing and belonging at Hickory Neck, and how your collective financial giving might grow that blessing.  This is our opportunity to widen the net of belonging, and grow Hickory Neck’s gifts to one another and the world.  Amen.

[i] Harry B. Adams, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 116.

On Sacred Listening…

Tags

blessing, conversation, evangelism, faith, God, hear, listen, sacred, share, stories

Photo credit:  https://www.npr.org/programs/ted-radio-hour/411697251/the-act-of-listening

Last week and this week, our curate is leading Hickory Neck in a forum on evangelism.  The work of the class is ultimately about sharing and listening to sacred stories.  True evangelism happens not when we tell people what they should believe or that they should come to church with us, but when we listen deeply to people’s stories and reflect where we see the sacred in those stories.

I realize this all may sound a little touchy-feely for many of us, but the truth is, even if you never called it “sacred storytelling and sacred listening,” you have likely experienced the phenomenon.  Think about the last time you encountered someone who was such a good listener you were pouring out your soul to them, without even actively choosing to do so.  Or recall those times when you have shared some of the heavy things on your heart and the listener pointed out where they saw God in the darkness in a way that lightened your entire perspective.  Those holy moments do not happen very often, but when they do, we feel a sense of transformation and the nearness of God.

That’s what evangelism is all about – not a manipulative way of coaxing out stories so that you can convert someone, but a willingness to stand in the fray with people (be it friend, neighbor, or stranger) and wait for God.  That kind of openness is a tremendous gift and privilege – to you, to the other, and to the world.

This past week, I have had the privilege of having lots of conversations – about faith, religion, children, church, and politics.  Some have been with church members, some have been with new acquaintances, and some have been with strangers.  And to a person, in every conversation, I find that I experience more blessing and renewed faith in our God than I even realized I needed.  This week, I invite you into those sacred storytelling and sacred listening opportunities, whether it’s with someone you know or someone you have never met.  I know that sounds scary, but you will be surprised how often someone is willing to share if they know someone is really listening.  If you are willing to accept the invitation, I suspect you will come to church on Sunday with a sense of renewal and restored faith.  I can’t wait to hear your stories!

GC79: Everyday Evangelism…

Tags

conversation, evangelism, General Convention, God, Jesus, relationship, story, stranger

Photo credit:  Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse only with permission)

On my first day of General Convention, I had to start as a “visitor” until I could get my alternate name badge.  That meant I had some spare time to explore the exhibits in the Exhibit Hall.  I decided to grab lunch there, and after I made my purchase, I realized I didn’t know anyone in the eating area, and many of the tables were full of deputations or groups of friends.  There was a table with just one petite older woman of color.  I figured General Convention was partly about meeting the wider church, so I asked to join her.

We began the normal chitchat of the day – the weather, the food, etc.  I asked her where she was from and she said, “Arizona now, but I’m from Kenya.”  Well, you can imagine my excitement – one of my best friends from seminary is a female priest from Kenya.  We launched into a conversation about what brought her to the States, and before I knew it, we were deep in a conversation about the husband who left her for another woman, the kids he left her to manage, the impact of the divorce on her family, the hurtful things a priest said to her about the divorce, the way she has experienced racism – not just as a person of color, but as a woman from Africa.

After we grieved the hard stuff, and my apology about the sins of the church, she began to tell me about the good stuff:  the grandchildren she moved to Arizona to enjoy; the women she works with back in various countries in Africa to produce clothing that will feed their families; the school she is trying to help some of the women establish in their hometown.  She was at Convention to display and sell their wares.  She jokingly told me, “Yeah, I’m a little concerned.  The women gave me several items that are going to be way too small for anyone here to wear.”  I knew God had brought us together for a reason!  “Mary,” I exclaimed, “I guess that means I’m going to have to buy one of those smalls!”

Later that week, I dropped by new friend’s booth.  We embraced like old friends.  I could see the wrinkles of hurt and toil on her face more distinctly this time, but I could also see the twinkle of new relationship in her eyes.  I came away with a cute dress, but more importantly, I came away with a sense of kinship, of having connected with another human about the journey of life, and where God can work through us to do good.  When we talk about evangelism in the church, I always try to remind Hickory Neck that evangelism is about hearing people’s stories and naming God in them.  It is not easy work.  It will involve sitting down at tables with strangers and maybe even starting by talking about the weather.  But if you hang in there, you might just hear the story of how God is working through us all – and even find a new sister or brother in Christ along the way.

GC79: When People Start Getting Real…

Tags

apathy, children of God, compromise, conversation, Episcopal, General Convention, Jesus, justice, prayer, relationship, truth, uncomfortable

General Convention, July 6, 2018.  Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse with permission)

One of the things that I am finding powerful about General Convention is a willingness to enter into a time of truth-telling.  Before I arrived, the House of Bishops hosted a listening session of stories from women who have been sexually harassed or abused in the context of the church.  From what I hear it was a powerful experience of honesty and vulnerability, and I believe many of the bishops (most of whom are male) were moved by the experience.

Last night, I sat in on a hearing for people to offer their testimonies about a couple of resolutions involving marriage rights, particularly same-sex marriages.  Much of the conversation was about a resolution put forth involving a compromise (B012).  According to the resolution, bishops can still make decisions with their conscious for their priests and diocese, but would give permission for any priests who feel called to celebrate same-sex marriages to do so with the oversight of another bishop of the Church.  The testimonies lasted for almost two hours (not including the two hours earlier in the day), and many things became abundantly clear.  Our LGBTQ brothers and sisters are hurting and longing to be treated as equal children of God.  And our more conservative brothers and sisters are fearful about not being able to be faithful to their understanding of Scripture and tradition.  The tension was high.  But also present was a spirit of graciousness.  People of opposing views were sitting beside one another, able to make eye contact and stay in the room.  I came away realizing that what I was seeing was what compromise looks like – no one fully happy, but a path forward for now.  And in a county that seems incapable of compromise, it was a gift to see the Church moving in that direction.

And then today, we spent time together talking about Racial Reconciliation – a topic that my conversation partner said has been a topic for twenty years of General Conventions – which means we haven’t gotten there yet.  It was an inspiring, beautiful, hard time, but a time I was glad to see us have.  One of my favorite speakers, the Rev. Nancy Frausto, had this to say, “This society has been contaminated by the plague of apathy.”  In other words, in a political environment where injustice is rampant, we cannot afford to let apathy infect us.

I do not know where these conversations will lead.  I suspect we will not solve the world’s ills at this Convention.  But what we are starting to do is show the world what it means to be a diverse people who stay together, find a compromise, and love and lead together.  It is not easy.  In fact, it’s pretty uncomfortable. But following Jesus is pretty uncomfortable too.  If the Church can’t do it, I’m not sure we can ask anyone else to do that work.  I’m proud of the Episcopal Church tonight.  And I will continue to hold her in my prayers.

Sermon – Mark 8.31.38, L2, YB, February 25, 2018

Tags

cede, Christ, control, conversation, follow, God, guns, invest, Jesus, Messiah, outcome, Peter, relationship, self-interest, Sermon, solution

Last week, as Lent Madness started up, the first matchup was between Peter and Paul.  Our family had a lively debate about which saint we preferred, including how cool it was for Paul to change his mind so radically.  But I advocated for Peter because I love how human he is – always being both the Rock on which Christ will build his Church, and the “Satan” who gets so tripped up in his own desires that he forgets what Jesus is trying to do.  Sometimes Peter’s praise and condemnation happen within verses of each other.  Today is just such a day.  In the few verses before the gospel reading from Mark we heard today, Peter boldly professes that Jesus is the Messiah when none of the other disciples are able to do so.  But then today, as soon as Jesus starts talking about suffering, rejection, and death, Peter slips again.  Like a celebrity’s manager, Peter quietly pulls Jesus aside to remind him that talking about suffering, rejection, and death is not going to help his ratings with the crowds.

I imagine many of us here have had similar conversations with God.  Like Peter, we have taken certain risks in our lives to follow Christ.  We have been mocked by non-believers, we have had to defend our God when the news feed seems to suggest God is absent, we have given up countless invitations for brunch or simply sleeping in because we agreed to read scripture in church or teach Sunday School.  We have taken jobs out a sense of call or we have loved an enemy when we did not want to love her.  We have made sacrifices for our faith.  And like any relationship where we have committed time and energy, we become invested in the outcomes.  So, when someone does not recover from an illness, or when a child is lost too soon, we get angry with God.  When another shooting happens, or when we hear reports of genocide, we voice our frustration with God.  Even when we follow politics, we become convinced that God would want a particular outcome or a particular party to win.

But here’s the trouble.  You see, when we follow Jesus, when we give up things and commit to the relationship, we become invested.  The process is natural – any relationship in which we commit our time is one in which we become invested in the results.  But that is the scary thing about following Jesus.  Not only does Jesus want us to follow him, Jesus also wants us to let go of control in the relationship.  That’s where Peter stumbles today.  You see, he is a faithful follower of Jesus.  But somewhere along the way, his faithfulness is not offered out of a total trust in whatever Jesus has to offer, but is rooted in a conviction that Jesus will behave in a particular way:  the conquering Messiah – the one who will bring redemption.  His rebuking Jesus is because what Jesus says today does not jive with his expectations of the Messiah.  And because he has a relationship with Jesus, because he is invested in his relationship with Jesus, he tries to exert his will over Jesus – to convince him to look like the Messiah he wants.

I once served at a parish that had a longtime missional relationship with a village in the Dominican Republic.  When I got involved with the program, the relationship had been floundering.  The church had worked with the village to build a community center.  Once that was done, not wanting the relationship to end, the church tried some other efforts, including microfinance and teaching different industries.  Most of those efforts failed, and the teams that would travel to the village began to feel like they were wasting their time or were doing busy work.  The more the church tried to control the relationship, the less satisfying the relationship became.

I remember on one of our last nights in the DR talking to the local priest.  I shared with him our concern – that we feared the relationship had accomplished all it could and everything we were trying to do in the village was forcing the relationship to be something the relationship could not be.  The priest understood our predicament, and gave us his blessing to do whatever we needed to do.  I went home convinced the church would gracefully end the relationship.  Instead, years later, I found out the relationship was still going strong – but not because the church had done something.  Instead, when the church was finally willing to let go, to stop trying to control the relationship, and force their own outcome, the relationship took off.  The village came to the church with a new proposal.  Instead of one more coat of paint, or one more attempted microbusiness, the village wanted to build more buildings.  But this time, the buildings would not just service the village – they would serve as a high school for the region.  Last I heard, the government finally noticed what the village was doing, and began to support the school with infrastructure and teachers.

What the church had to learn, what we need to learn, what Peter eventually learns is taking up our cross to follow Jesus means being open to death.  Perhaps that sounds obvious to those of you who have read Jesus’ words time and again.  But this week, when I think about what being open to death means I think Jesus means being open to the death of our self-interest – of our will – of our desperate need for control.  Once we allow that to die, we start to find life – life in Christ as Christ would have us live life.  We find ourselves able to keep our minds on divine things, not on human things.

This past week of dealing with the aftermath of another school shooting, I have been struggling.  Every time our country faces another mass shooting, I feel like I need to do something, to change something, to push our leaders to do something different.  Every time we face another tragedy, I join Christians in prayer and grief.  But, as one Christian theologian points out, “There is something deeply hypocritical about praying for a problem you are unwilling to resolve.”[i]  And so this week, instead of just looking to like-minded people about what to do or whom to blame, I tried something else.  I called up a friend who has very different feelings about these things and asked him to help me understand his point of view on guns in our country.  Instead of trying to convince him of my view, I let go of my own stuff, and listened.  When I let go – when I was open to the death of my self-interest or longing for control, I found that we got a lot closer to a common solution.  We began to discover ways forward.

And then, as I found myself loosening my own grip on a solution, our young people started speaking up.  Instead of the adults in this country trying to tell students how to feel or behave, the students began to teach us.  If we can deny ourselves, let go of our death grip on this issue on either side, our young people are inviting us into a new way of entering this problem – of listening differently to one another and responding in a way that transforms both sides of the aisle.

I cannot imagine a better time for us to grapple with our relationships with God and with one another.  Many of you have already shared with me the ways in which you have taken on Lenten disciplines to help you deepen your relationship with Christ.  What Peter’s experience this week invites us to consider is how we might not simply deepen our relationship, but also how me might cede our self-interest in our relationship with Christ – not simply following Christ, but letting go of how we think that journey should look; not simply taking up our cross, but being open to the fact that we do not know what that will mean or what we will encounter.  If we can engage in that kind of relationship with Christ, then we might just be able to engage in that kind of relationship with one another – no longer maddeningly holding on to what we want in our relationships, but trusting that God is working among us when we let go.  Then we are finally taking up our crosses and following Christ – together.  Amen.

[i] Attributed to Miroslav Volf by Kirsten Powers, “Why ‘thoughts and prayers’ is starting to sound so profane,” Washington Post, Nov. 6, 2017, https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2017/10/03/why-thoughts-and-prayers-is-starting-to-sound-so-profane, as referenced by Karoline Lewis, “Open Speech,” Feb. 19, 2018, http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5066, as found on Feb. 22, 2018.

On Sports, Story, and the Spirit…

Tags

challenge, conversation, faith, faithful, fun, hope, Jesus, journey, movie, power, race, racial reconciliation, sports, story

Photo credit:  coachcarter5.blogspot.com/p/plot-summary.html

This summer, our church was looking to do two things:  we wanted to offer a “light” educational series that adults could enjoy and we wanted to continue our conversation about racial reconciliation.  One might think those two goals do not go together.  But we were not to be deterred.  We settled on the option of watching movies that were about racial reconciliation.  Movies are certainly fun, but the topic still wasn’t capturing the “fun” or “light” criteria.  Then the idea hit us:  sports movies!  Sports movies allow us to be entertained, while sneaking in powerful stories of hope, challenge, and encouragement.

The model has worked even better than I suspected.  Our first two movies have been 42: The Jackie Robinson Story and The Blind Side.  The last two movies are Coach Carter and Invictus.  We were able to feature four sports:  baseball, football, basketball, and rugby.  Each week we have been able to cheer on teams, laugh at comical moments, and pause with discomfort when truth broke through.  Our conversations have been rich – each movie bringing up parallels in our own stories – about race, about respecting the dignity of every human being, and about our journey with faith.

I think what has made that work is each movie is based on a true story.  We did not make that connection when planning the film list, but it has been a powerful surprise.  Unlike a fictional film, which could be dismissed as romantic, overly simple, or unrealistic, these movies show us real people, trying to live faithful lives on and off the field.  Their stories have been encouraging us to do likewise – examine how we are living faithful lives on and off the field.  Ultimately, I think that is the only way we are going to make our way toward racial reconciliation:  sharing our stories and listening to others’ stories.  It would be easy to do otherwise; to keep our heads down and ignore what is happening in the world about us.  But these stories invite us into another way of being.

The invitation of our Faith and Film series this week is for us to find ways to engage outside of the theater.  Maybe you start by telling someone about this awesome movie you just saw.  Or if you are feeling more confident, maybe you simply talk to a friend or coworker – either of your race or another – and start with a confession, “I watched this movie and it has made me think about [insert your thoughts here].  What is your experience with that?”  Using the movie or your own story allows you to do what Jesus did all the time – engage people where they are through the power of story.  I believe reconciliation starts there:  one story at a time.

Sermon – Genesis 18.1-1, 21-1-7, P6, YA, June 18, 2017

Tags

Abraham, anger, conversation, doubt, dream, faith, frustration, God, honor, lack of faith, laugh, laughter, promise, Sarah, Sermon, share, transform

Today we get one of my favorite stories in scripture – Sarah’s laughter at God’s promise.  The story is perfectly crafted.  The story with a flurry of activity.  Abraham is sitting in his tent in the heat of the day when three guests suddenly appear.  As soon as Abraham sees them, he runs to greet them, begging them to stay.  Then Abraham sends the entire household into a tizzy.  He barks orders about baking cakes, grabs a calf and commands the calf be prepared for the guests.  He gets curds and milk and rushes to plate the feast for the guests.  We can almost imagine Abraham panting as he finally delivers the meals to the guests.

But then the story comes to a screeching halt, with a question that tells us what is really important.  “Where is your wife, Sarah?”  And slowly, the promise of a child to a barren, post-menopausal woman unfolds.  Abraham and Sarah were promised long ago to be the parents of a great nation.  But Sarah had given up on that dream.  She had already asked Abraham to go to her slave-girl and have a child with Hagar as a representative child for her.  Her action with Hagar had been a desperate move, but what else could she have done?  So when this guest, or God, as the text later tells us, says that Sarah will conceive herself, after years of longing, hoping, feeling devastated and powerless, Sarah does what we all might do.  She laughs.  She laughs at the prospect of pleasure in her marriage when she and Abraham are so advanced in age.  She laughs at the impossibility that their pleasure might lead to progeny.  She laughs at the promise because believing the promise would mean opening herself up to unfilled dreams yet again.

Sarah’s laughter has long been used as a criticism for a lack of faith in God.  When God asks, “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” and when Sarah quickly denies her laughter, countless readers have wagged their fingers at Sarah as if to say, “Oh ye of little faith.”  And I can see how we get there.  The exchange between Sarah and God – the laughter that bubbles out from years of hurt and disappointment, the scolding by God, the attempt to lie to cover up embarrassment, and the scolding yet again when God calls Sarah on her dishonesty – is all too familiar to us.  What the accusation of lacking faith forgets is how terribly vulnerable and resigned Sarah is.  I cannot tell you the number of people I have counseled who at the end of second marriage have begun to doubt God’s presence.  I cannot tell you the number of people I have sat with after receiving a bad diagnosis for themselves or their loved one who has begun to whether God has abandoned them.  I cannot tell you the number of people have received yet another rejection letter who have begun to question God’s call on their life.  When Sarah laughs, I do not feel justification for judgment against her level of faith.  When Sarah laughs, I hear the ache of countless believers who know how ludicrous God’s promises can be.

What gets me about the judgment of Sarah is the short memory of scripture readers.  In the chapter before what we heard today, Abraham is given the same promise that Sarah hears – a child by Sarah.  And his reaction?  He does not simply laugh quietly to himself as Sarah does in that tent.  He falls on his face and laughs full-bodied at God.  The only difference in laughter between Abraham and Sarah is that Abraham laughs in front of God where Sarah tries to hide her laughter.  Both are an acknowledgement of doubt about what God can do.  Both take all their disappointment, pain, and hurt, and dissolve into laughter because, quite frankly, sometimes God is laughable.  Sometimes God makes no sense at all, and laughing is the only release and protection from more hurt.  Humans questioning God is a natural part of a genuine God-human conversation, a conventional motif we see throughout the Old Testament.[i]

This week, I stumbled on an Old Testament scholar, Kathryn Shifferdecker, who suggests that God may not be a God of judgment in this passage.  In fact, she sees God as fully understanding the comedy of the situation.  She sees a God with a sense of humor, who when God says, “Oh yes you did laugh,” says so with a twinkle in his eye.[ii]  The theory totally shifted the reading for me.  Suddenly the pieces all fit together.  Instead of an angry or disappointed God, who judges disbelief, our God is a God who understands that God’s promises are sometimes laughable – even if they are true.  Why else would God tell Abraham to name his son Isaac, which means, “he laughs,” in Hebrew?[iii]  As Schifferdecker explains, “Abraham falls on his face in a fit of laughter.  Sarah laughs behind the tent door.  And the LORD (I believe) laughs with them at the divine, wonderful absurdity of it all.  Given the humor of the scene under the oaks of Mamre, and the comedy of a God who acts in unexpected ways to fulfill God’s promises, it is entirely appropriate that the child of the promise should be named ‘Laughter.’”[iv]

The image of the three of them laughing – Sarah, Abraham, and God, makes a lot of sense once we hear the final words of Sarah.  In chapter 21, Sarah, perhaps initially embarrassed or doubtful of God, now says, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.”  This story is not a story of shame for those of us who struggle with doubt, anger, or frustration with God.  This is not a story of an unfaithful follower of God.  This is a story about a woman and a man who look at the absurdity of God’s promise with the fullness of their humanity and laugh – hard, belly-shaking, on-the-floor laughter that only comes when the divine finally breaks through our disappointment, shame, and anger, and brings us to laughter.

I love this story even more as I think about the trinity of Abraham, Sarah, and God laughing.  Their laughter affirms our own incredulous walks with God.  Their laughter takes those moments when we no long trust God’s promises, and transforms them.  No longer do we need to hide away our deepest doubts, but instead we honor them.  We share them.  And we create communities of laughter with them.  Amen.

[i] Leander E. Keck, ed., New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, vol. I (Abingdon Press, 1994), 465.

[ii] Kathryn M. Schifferdecker, “Commentary on Genesis 18:1-15 [21:1-7],” June 18, 2017, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3301 on June 14, 2017.

[iii] Tamara Cohn Eshkenazi, ed., The Torah:  A Women’s Commentary, (Women of Reform Judaism URJ Press, 2008), 97.

[iv] Schifferdecker.