Rev. George Miller
Luke 24:13-35
“Telling Jesus”
April 7, 2013
Although Easter was last week, today is a story that in my heart is the Easter story. It’s an account of two people on a journey to Emmaus who have an amazing encounter with Christ.
Marcus Borg and John Crossan in their book The Last Week comment that this story is filled with truth because Emmaus is not a one time event but “…Emmaus always happens…again and again.” (pg 201)
This is also a story sure to raise eyebrows. Why didn’t they realize it was Jesus? Why, did Jesus disappear into thin air? Perhaps most perplexing: how did they run 7 miles back to town in an hour?
Pastorally, this story makes sense. It’s an account of what happens to people after they have experienced trauma; what happens to people going through grief.
A few months ago the UCC offered a seminar on how to respond to human caused disasters. We learned how the body and the brain respond to traumatic situations.
One of the first things were taught is that when something disastrous happens, more often then not, the thinking part of the brain shuts down.
We go into a fight or flight mode in which large amounts of adrenaline is released, our digestion is slowed down, and our immune system is suppressed so we don’t get sick.
In this mode we are what they call agitated, becoming highly irritable, quick to anger and over reactive. Time collapses and minutes seem to either speed by or slow down to unbearable levels.
As evolved as we are, our brains have not developed to the point that we can think and feel at the same time; it’s one or the other.
So when one is emotional, you can’t force them to think or be logical. But you can give them a time out or a moment of pause; to stop, breathe, and to regroup.
If a traumatic event takes place, it is hard for the victim or the witnesses to make meaning or to clearly recall what happened.
That’s where clergy, as first responders, come into play. Pastoral providers will create space and time so thinking can take place, anger can be expressed and chances exist for that person to remember and share what has transpired.
A good pastoral presence will temper this with love, forgiveness and patience.
How? Well, by letting the person or people tell their story. By simply being present, by simply saying “Tell me.”
This creates a supportive environment in which the body and mind can reset itself, and for that person or people to experience the presence of the Lord in an assuring way.
Guess where we see a good example of this? Right here in today’s reading.
Keep in mind that this is a story about two every day, ordinary folk who have experienced an extraordinary thing.
Jesus, who they believed to be a prophet, who they had hoped would redeem their people, has been publicly crucified.
As if that’s not traumatic sounding enough, now some women are claiming that his tomb is empty and Jesus is alive.
How would you feel if someone told you your favorite teacher or preacher had come back to life three days later? Unsettled? Elated? Scared? Disbelieving?
The fact that these two individuals have separated themselves from the group, the fact that they are walking 7 miles out of town gives us some clues as to how they feel.
While on their journey they meet Jesus. But they do not recognize him. This part often confuses folk, but it makes sense.
If they were in flight mode, if they were dealing with trauma, time would have been collapsed, their feeling, not thinking mind would have been working.
It’s like when you’re looking for your sunglasses and they’re right on your face or a piece of paper with a phone number and it’s right there on the desk in front of you.
I recall a time when I drove up to hospice and a parishioner was getting into their car. They literally were not able to see me. Even though I said hi, even though I rapped on their window, they were so focused on who they were visiting that they could neither see nor hear me.
So these two individuals have witnessed a horrible thing; they have heard astonishing news, they are moving slow and looking sad. Jesus asks what they are discussing. They say “Have you not heard what things have taken place?”
Jesus responds “What things?” In other words, “Tell me.”
The Resurrected Christ has met them on the road to Emmaus and he wants to hear what has happened. Clearly something is affecting them, so Jesus says “Tell me. Before you go any further, before you take another step, tell me what happened.”
And he listens.
The result: Christ enters into their home, joins them at the table and they are able to see him for who he is. Their hearts burn within, they return back to the city, back with their comrades to share their Good News.
…Each Sunday we begin service by saying “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.”
We are indeed all on our own journey, aren’t we? Every day we have experiences to share and memories to process.
Because every day is a journey, Emmaus is not a one time event. Emmaus always happens, again and again, day after day.
If we believe this to be true, then it means that just like the two travelers on the road, we also have an opportunity to tell Jesus what we have experienced each and every day.
Not just the good things. Not just the things that make us glad.
But the other things. The mistakes we have made. The losses we have endured. The things we feel ashamed about.
Popular culture likes to tell us that we should forget, we should brush things under the proverbial rug.
But that doesn’t really do anything. Those thoughts, those feelings are still there.
That’s not what Jesus does on the road to Emmaus. Jesus doesn’t tell them to forget what they have experienced or what they heard. Jesus encourages them to share, and in sharing, the presence of Christ becomes a reality.
With Christ we never have to act as if nothing is wrong. We can tell and retell our story. We can express our shock and dismay, our rage and confusion.
We can tell the Lord everything…and the beauty is that Jesus will listen, and Jesus will hear.
No matter if our journey is one mile, three miles or seven miles long, Christ will hear every word and walk with us along the way
Does it take the events which happened away? No. Does it turn back the hands of time? No.
But it can create space for the unexpected to happen, for healing to begin and the opportunity for us to return back to life, back to family and to friends.
In conclusion, life happens. Jerusalem happens. Pain and suffering, losses and mystery are real.
But just as real as those things are, there is also the reality that as we journey, we do not journey alone.
As we journey, we have opportunities to encounter the resurrected Christ, to tell him our stories and to share all the things that have transpired, be they good or bad.
Certain situations may make us want to detach from reality, but we never have to detach from Christ.
Amen and amen.
A UCC Pastor's walk through the spiritual waters of Scripture, pop culture and life.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Easter Sermon, March 31, 2013; Luke 24:1-12
Rev. George Miller
Luke 24:1-12
“Remember”
Easter; March 31, 2013
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Written by William Shakespeare, spoken by Macbeth, these are cold words of dark hopelessness, in which life is equated to nothing more then an actor who leaves the stage or a candle that is snuffed out.
They are the words of one who has confused political power and desire for domination with the light of day and the joy of “enough” that simply comes from being in love.
Pointlessness pervades; it is the same sense of pointlessness that existed on Friday when Jesus died upon the cross, feeling forsaken by God. A pointlessness which consumed Saturday as the disciples hid in fear and the women waited to anoint a dead body.
Jesus’ life may have looked like a great play, but his curtain call took place on the cross as he commended his spirit to God.
Jesus’ candle may have burned bright, but it has been put out by Pilate and the people.
Logic of the world says that when a candle is put out, its light ceases to exist…
…Today, well today we have gathered to say “Alleluia” and to give thanks that God is not limited by the world’s logic.
That in God’s kingdom, on God’s heavenly stage, even when a light is put out, its flame can still continue to burn, its light can still illuminate the world.
Especially when that light is called Jesus; Emmanuel!
Because friends, visitors, seekers and members of the community, in God the light of life is stronger then the darkness of death!
And that is what we celebrate this morning.
Since December we have spent most of our time following the birth and life of Jesus as told to us in the Gospel of Luke.
Luke tells us that after Jesus was wrongfully crucified, the women, seeing where his body was laid, went home to prepare the spices. Following Jewish tradition, they waited until Sunday, when the Sabbath was over. Then, on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb to anoint Jesus; Mary Magdalene, Johanna, Mary his mother, and others.
But the stone is rolled away; they are perplexed. Two men stand beside them. “He is not here, but has risen. Remember, how he told you…that…on the third day he would rise again.”
The women remembered Jesus’ words, so they go and tell the disciples and the rest.
There is a sense in reading this that Luke wants to bring attention to the act of memory. It’s as if he’s saying that part of faith is based on the ability to remember.
Not blind trust, not saying a few choice words to be redeemed, but to remember, to recall, to reflect upon.
But sometimes remembering is not the easiest thing. When we experience great trauma, it’s hard to remember, especially the good times.
When we encounter duress, it is not so easy to remember. People find it difficult to recall the successes they’ve had and the miracles they’ve encountered.
As we age and grapple and quest to survive, it is not so easy to remember.
It’s not even the big things, but the little things. Who can recall what they ate for lunch yesterday? Who can recall what they read on Wednesday?
Who can recall what was even preached last week?
Yet, at the tomb the women remember and once they do, they find the courage to go on.
For me, this year, this is the Easter miracle.
Not that God raised Jesus from the grave. Our God is an awesome God. Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?
But for me, the miracle is that the people remembered. Plain, ordinary, every day folk not that much different from you and I.
In the midst of everything, the chaos, the loss, the confusing reality, they remembered, and in the act of remembering, the Resurrection made sense.
It’s by remembering that everything which had come before became even clearer and now they understand what Jesus meant; that what Jesus had tried to teach them was true and truly mattered.
Remember.
Remember that when Zechariah and Elizabeth were old and childless, God made a promise to give them a son, and God followed through.
Remember.
Remember that even though Mary was young and poor, God was able to work through her to do a marvelous thing.
Remember.
Remember that even though there was no place for them in the inn, a manger and visiting shepherds were enough to welcome the birth of our Lord.
Remember.
Remember that when Jesus, famished and alone, was offered the world by Satan he still said “No!” because in God he already had enough. (Luke 4:1-13)
Remember.
Remember, that according to Luke, Jesus’ 1st public words of ministry was that he would bring good news to the poor, proclaim release of the captives, and let the oppressed go free. (Luke 4:16-30)
Remember.
Remember that Jesus told a story about a father whose love was so great that he ran to his son and welcomed him with kisses even though the young man had squandered everything away. (Luke 15:11-32)
Remember.
Remember how Jesus had a lowly donkey untied and used him so as to fulfill a prophecy of peaceful action. (Luke 19:29-40)
Remember the good: the teachings, the ministry, the meals shared, the healings, the lives touched, the people transformed.
The Resurrection allowed the women and the disciples to remember, and by remembering they acted.
They ate meals together. They ministered. They shared. They did what Jesus had called them to do.
In doing so, the light of Christ continues and the flame from his candle remains lit and burns brightly even 2 millennia later.
Is it a miracle that God raised Jesus from the grave? Yes! Is it also a miracle that the people remembered? Yes!!
In conclusion, we as a community of Christ have made it through the darkened days of Good Friday and Holy Saturday.
We have witnessed the evil that men and women do; we have worried if indeed God has forsaken us.
But today, today we have come to the tomb, we have found the stone rolled away, we have heard the Good News, and we have remembered.
And in the act of remembering we are reminded that we are not poor players, merely shadows on a stage.
We now know that no matter how dark the night may seem, no matter how long the weekend may last, in Christ the flame still shines.
In Christ each season has a meaning. Our yesterdays all matter, and our to-morrows carry dreams yet to be imagined.
In the Resurrected Christ our sound and fury is replaced by music and light, signifying everything; to the last recorded syllable of time.
Alleluia and amen!
Luke 24:1-12
“Remember”
Easter; March 31, 2013
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Written by William Shakespeare, spoken by Macbeth, these are cold words of dark hopelessness, in which life is equated to nothing more then an actor who leaves the stage or a candle that is snuffed out.
They are the words of one who has confused political power and desire for domination with the light of day and the joy of “enough” that simply comes from being in love.
Pointlessness pervades; it is the same sense of pointlessness that existed on Friday when Jesus died upon the cross, feeling forsaken by God. A pointlessness which consumed Saturday as the disciples hid in fear and the women waited to anoint a dead body.
Jesus’ life may have looked like a great play, but his curtain call took place on the cross as he commended his spirit to God.
Jesus’ candle may have burned bright, but it has been put out by Pilate and the people.
Logic of the world says that when a candle is put out, its light ceases to exist…
…Today, well today we have gathered to say “Alleluia” and to give thanks that God is not limited by the world’s logic.
That in God’s kingdom, on God’s heavenly stage, even when a light is put out, its flame can still continue to burn, its light can still illuminate the world.
Especially when that light is called Jesus; Emmanuel!
Because friends, visitors, seekers and members of the community, in God the light of life is stronger then the darkness of death!
And that is what we celebrate this morning.
Since December we have spent most of our time following the birth and life of Jesus as told to us in the Gospel of Luke.
Luke tells us that after Jesus was wrongfully crucified, the women, seeing where his body was laid, went home to prepare the spices. Following Jewish tradition, they waited until Sunday, when the Sabbath was over. Then, on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb to anoint Jesus; Mary Magdalene, Johanna, Mary his mother, and others.
But the stone is rolled away; they are perplexed. Two men stand beside them. “He is not here, but has risen. Remember, how he told you…that…on the third day he would rise again.”
The women remembered Jesus’ words, so they go and tell the disciples and the rest.
There is a sense in reading this that Luke wants to bring attention to the act of memory. It’s as if he’s saying that part of faith is based on the ability to remember.
Not blind trust, not saying a few choice words to be redeemed, but to remember, to recall, to reflect upon.
But sometimes remembering is not the easiest thing. When we experience great trauma, it’s hard to remember, especially the good times.
When we encounter duress, it is not so easy to remember. People find it difficult to recall the successes they’ve had and the miracles they’ve encountered.
As we age and grapple and quest to survive, it is not so easy to remember.
It’s not even the big things, but the little things. Who can recall what they ate for lunch yesterday? Who can recall what they read on Wednesday?
Who can recall what was even preached last week?
Yet, at the tomb the women remember and once they do, they find the courage to go on.
For me, this year, this is the Easter miracle.
Not that God raised Jesus from the grave. Our God is an awesome God. Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?
But for me, the miracle is that the people remembered. Plain, ordinary, every day folk not that much different from you and I.
In the midst of everything, the chaos, the loss, the confusing reality, they remembered, and in the act of remembering, the Resurrection made sense.
It’s by remembering that everything which had come before became even clearer and now they understand what Jesus meant; that what Jesus had tried to teach them was true and truly mattered.
Remember.
Remember that when Zechariah and Elizabeth were old and childless, God made a promise to give them a son, and God followed through.
Remember.
Remember that even though Mary was young and poor, God was able to work through her to do a marvelous thing.
Remember.
Remember that even though there was no place for them in the inn, a manger and visiting shepherds were enough to welcome the birth of our Lord.
Remember.
Remember that when Jesus, famished and alone, was offered the world by Satan he still said “No!” because in God he already had enough. (Luke 4:1-13)
Remember.
Remember, that according to Luke, Jesus’ 1st public words of ministry was that he would bring good news to the poor, proclaim release of the captives, and let the oppressed go free. (Luke 4:16-30)
Remember.
Remember that Jesus told a story about a father whose love was so great that he ran to his son and welcomed him with kisses even though the young man had squandered everything away. (Luke 15:11-32)
Remember.
Remember how Jesus had a lowly donkey untied and used him so as to fulfill a prophecy of peaceful action. (Luke 19:29-40)
Remember the good: the teachings, the ministry, the meals shared, the healings, the lives touched, the people transformed.
The Resurrection allowed the women and the disciples to remember, and by remembering they acted.
They ate meals together. They ministered. They shared. They did what Jesus had called them to do.
In doing so, the light of Christ continues and the flame from his candle remains lit and burns brightly even 2 millennia later.
Is it a miracle that God raised Jesus from the grave? Yes! Is it also a miracle that the people remembered? Yes!!
In conclusion, we as a community of Christ have made it through the darkened days of Good Friday and Holy Saturday.
We have witnessed the evil that men and women do; we have worried if indeed God has forsaken us.
But today, today we have come to the tomb, we have found the stone rolled away, we have heard the Good News, and we have remembered.
And in the act of remembering we are reminded that we are not poor players, merely shadows on a stage.
We now know that no matter how dark the night may seem, no matter how long the weekend may last, in Christ the flame still shines.
In Christ each season has a meaning. Our yesterdays all matter, and our to-morrows carry dreams yet to be imagined.
In the Resurrected Christ our sound and fury is replaced by music and light, signifying everything; to the last recorded syllable of time.
Alleluia and amen!
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Sermon for March 24, 2013; Luke 19:29-40
Rev. George Miller
Luke 19:29-40
“Possibilities Untied”
March 24, 2013
I have said before, and I will say many times again that most preachers have about three sermons in them that they give again and again.
I will also admit that at any given season we probably only have three themes as well. Food, no doubt, has been a constant theme; so have Disney and Broadway.
This has not been by accident.
Since I was a young colt of a kid, they were two of the things my father seemed to love. So I grew up believing that a dream is a wish your heart makes and that we all have the ability to fly.
I also grew up listening to the wit and wisdom, passion and plights of Professor Henry Higgins and Pippin, Eliza Doolittle and Evita, Guinevere and Don Quixote.
To dream the impossible dream…
Sadly, when my father died in 1995 I took those loves, those sources of life and light and tied them to a stake outside of my heart.
Too painful to see on a day to day basis, both Disney and Broadway were much easier left where I could visit from time to time, but not to have to always see them.
Then something unexpected happened when I came down here. Both reentered my life. Who would’ve thought that in a small, rural town, I would find a way to reenter a parade I had removed myself from for over 15 years?
These two loves of my father are once again two loves of mine, but now through different eyes.
Not the eyes of a child who naively believes second stars to the right and chasing windmills will make a better world, but through the eyes of an adult who understands that the world would be a much different, darker place if we didn’t hold in our heart the possibility that those things can indeed come true.
To put a spin on a popular poetic line, it is better to have dreamt and to lost then to never have dreamt at all…
One of Broadway’s beloved roles is the title character from “Hello Dolly.”
There is a scene from that play that is sure to make anyone tear up. Dolly has a “conversation” with her dearly departed husband Ephraim.
She confides in him that every night since he’s died, she locks her door, lets the cat out and says a prayer thanking God that she is independent.
But then she realizes she has become like the oak leaf she’s kept in her Bible: perfectly good but without color and life.
“For years,” Dolly says, “I have not shed one tear or been filled with the hope that something or other will turn out well.”
“I have decided to rejoin the human race.”
With those words, Dolly goes into a rousing number about getting her life back, moving with the rest and best of them, before the parade passes her by.
I speak of these things, because that’s what I see in today’s scripture. We have come to the day in the life of the church which we affectionately call Palm Sunday.
With it, we shout “Hosanna!” and we wave our palm branches. We shout “Hosanna!” and we lay down our cloaks.
We shout “Hosanna!” and we welcome the Lord. We shout “Hosanna!” because we believe in the dream of a better world.
But there is something that must take place before “Hosanna” can be shouted and palm branches can be waved.
What is it?
In order for Jesus to ride into Jerusalem, a colt, a humble donkey, has to be untied.
I wonder how many people have thought about this simple, little creature before. So often we focus on Jesus and the disciples, on the crowds and cloaks and palms and shouts.
But what about this lowly colt, this donkey?
Poor little fella, kept outside, tied to a pole, unable to move around, unable to go left or go right, move ahead, to frolic or to run.
Not used to its best advantage. Going nowhere…
…Until Jesus comes along…
There is a lot of theology going on in this scripture.
We could discuss the symbolism of what these events mean. We could talk about the political ramifications of calling Jesus “king.” We could talk about the prophecies being fulfilled.
We could spend the entire time dissecting who is saying what and how, and why Luke’s account is different then Mark’s.
But not today. Today we are simply just going to focus on the donkey, the colt.
Why? Because I feel of all the characters in today’s reading I can most relate to him. And if I feel that way, perhaps others do too.
I wonder how many here today have ever felt like they’ve been left on the outside?
How many have ever felt like they’ve been constrained, tied up or kept in place?
I wonder how many have ever felt like the parade has passed you by and due to life’s circumstances you were unable to participate?
How many have ever felt like there was something bigger, better, more in life then just standing in place, waiting?
Unsure what it was or what you were supposed to be doing, but knowing, just knowing, there was…more?
(To quote a line from another famous play, “Please sir, can I have some more?”)
Haven’t we all been like this donkey? Yes. More then once or twice in our lives? Yes and yes.
But here, in this story, that something more comes to pass. And it’s not fame or fortune, power or success. But it’s being used as an instrument for the Lord.
For when the donkey is untied and finally given freedom, it’s not for the ways of the world, but for the ways of the Lord.
It’s not for the betterment of the king, but for the continued revealing of God’s kingdom.
The donkey is loosed, untied, set free to be a participant in a parade of heavenly peace and glory.
And we can be too.
All of us here are full of possibilities, ripe with righteous gifts that we can give and we can share, we can do and we can be.
Each of us have the life and light inside of us that were present when we were born and will stay with us until we die.
Some have already discovered their gifts, others have yet to fully realize them, some have taken a peek but unsure of how to follow through.
Others are in need of faithful disciples who will come by and say “Why are you tied down, you are being called by Christ to be so much more!”
Each of us has gathered here today, we have come to worship God, and to praise God’s name.
And each of us are pregnant with possibilities ready to make God’s dreams come true and to be participants in the heavenly parade of peace and of light.
Today, may those possibilities by untied, today may we march along with Jesus, shouting “Hosanna!”, looking at the crowd up ahead and moving back in front.
God is calling all of us, in Christ we are all being untied, by the Holy Spirit we are being filled with color and light.
Amen and amen!
Luke 19:29-40
“Possibilities Untied”
March 24, 2013
I have said before, and I will say many times again that most preachers have about three sermons in them that they give again and again.
I will also admit that at any given season we probably only have three themes as well. Food, no doubt, has been a constant theme; so have Disney and Broadway.
This has not been by accident.
Since I was a young colt of a kid, they were two of the things my father seemed to love. So I grew up believing that a dream is a wish your heart makes and that we all have the ability to fly.
I also grew up listening to the wit and wisdom, passion and plights of Professor Henry Higgins and Pippin, Eliza Doolittle and Evita, Guinevere and Don Quixote.
To dream the impossible dream…
Sadly, when my father died in 1995 I took those loves, those sources of life and light and tied them to a stake outside of my heart.
Too painful to see on a day to day basis, both Disney and Broadway were much easier left where I could visit from time to time, but not to have to always see them.
Then something unexpected happened when I came down here. Both reentered my life. Who would’ve thought that in a small, rural town, I would find a way to reenter a parade I had removed myself from for over 15 years?
These two loves of my father are once again two loves of mine, but now through different eyes.
Not the eyes of a child who naively believes second stars to the right and chasing windmills will make a better world, but through the eyes of an adult who understands that the world would be a much different, darker place if we didn’t hold in our heart the possibility that those things can indeed come true.
To put a spin on a popular poetic line, it is better to have dreamt and to lost then to never have dreamt at all…
One of Broadway’s beloved roles is the title character from “Hello Dolly.”
There is a scene from that play that is sure to make anyone tear up. Dolly has a “conversation” with her dearly departed husband Ephraim.
She confides in him that every night since he’s died, she locks her door, lets the cat out and says a prayer thanking God that she is independent.
But then she realizes she has become like the oak leaf she’s kept in her Bible: perfectly good but without color and life.
“For years,” Dolly says, “I have not shed one tear or been filled with the hope that something or other will turn out well.”
“I have decided to rejoin the human race.”
With those words, Dolly goes into a rousing number about getting her life back, moving with the rest and best of them, before the parade passes her by.
I speak of these things, because that’s what I see in today’s scripture. We have come to the day in the life of the church which we affectionately call Palm Sunday.
With it, we shout “Hosanna!” and we wave our palm branches. We shout “Hosanna!” and we lay down our cloaks.
We shout “Hosanna!” and we welcome the Lord. We shout “Hosanna!” because we believe in the dream of a better world.
But there is something that must take place before “Hosanna” can be shouted and palm branches can be waved.
What is it?
In order for Jesus to ride into Jerusalem, a colt, a humble donkey, has to be untied.
I wonder how many people have thought about this simple, little creature before. So often we focus on Jesus and the disciples, on the crowds and cloaks and palms and shouts.
But what about this lowly colt, this donkey?
Poor little fella, kept outside, tied to a pole, unable to move around, unable to go left or go right, move ahead, to frolic or to run.
Not used to its best advantage. Going nowhere…
…Until Jesus comes along…
There is a lot of theology going on in this scripture.
We could discuss the symbolism of what these events mean. We could talk about the political ramifications of calling Jesus “king.” We could talk about the prophecies being fulfilled.
We could spend the entire time dissecting who is saying what and how, and why Luke’s account is different then Mark’s.
But not today. Today we are simply just going to focus on the donkey, the colt.
Why? Because I feel of all the characters in today’s reading I can most relate to him. And if I feel that way, perhaps others do too.
I wonder how many here today have ever felt like they’ve been left on the outside?
How many have ever felt like they’ve been constrained, tied up or kept in place?
I wonder how many have ever felt like the parade has passed you by and due to life’s circumstances you were unable to participate?
How many have ever felt like there was something bigger, better, more in life then just standing in place, waiting?
Unsure what it was or what you were supposed to be doing, but knowing, just knowing, there was…more?
(To quote a line from another famous play, “Please sir, can I have some more?”)
Haven’t we all been like this donkey? Yes. More then once or twice in our lives? Yes and yes.
But here, in this story, that something more comes to pass. And it’s not fame or fortune, power or success. But it’s being used as an instrument for the Lord.
For when the donkey is untied and finally given freedom, it’s not for the ways of the world, but for the ways of the Lord.
It’s not for the betterment of the king, but for the continued revealing of God’s kingdom.
The donkey is loosed, untied, set free to be a participant in a parade of heavenly peace and glory.
And we can be too.
All of us here are full of possibilities, ripe with righteous gifts that we can give and we can share, we can do and we can be.
Each of us have the life and light inside of us that were present when we were born and will stay with us until we die.
Some have already discovered their gifts, others have yet to fully realize them, some have taken a peek but unsure of how to follow through.
Others are in need of faithful disciples who will come by and say “Why are you tied down, you are being called by Christ to be so much more!”
Each of us has gathered here today, we have come to worship God, and to praise God’s name.
And each of us are pregnant with possibilities ready to make God’s dreams come true and to be participants in the heavenly parade of peace and of light.
Today, may those possibilities by untied, today may we march along with Jesus, shouting “Hosanna!”, looking at the crowd up ahead and moving back in front.
God is calling all of us, in Christ we are all being untied, by the Holy Spirit we are being filled with color and light.
Amen and amen!
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Sermon for March 17, 2013; Luke 16:1-13
Rev. George Miller
Luke 16:1-13
“What Do We Owe?”
March 17, 2013
A few months ago I shared a prayer written by Judy Vekasy. It goes like this:
Loving, gentle, holy one
Dreamer of dreams
Who dreamed me into being
Help me to realize the dream
You have dreamed me to be
I recently came across this prayer and it got me thinking: the thing about dreams, not the inspirational kind, but the ones we have while asleep, is that they don’t make sense. Ever notice how our dreams have no real beginning and no clear resolution?
They seem to always start in the middle, featuring an array of people and physical locations that don’t always make sense.
Our sleepy-time dreams are usually murky and ambiguous. Yes, they can be filled with symbols and ways in which our unconscious is trying to work things out, but the more you try to explain your dreams or figure them out the more convoluted they become.
There are the dreams we have that linger with us long after we awake. They give us something to mull over, to think about.
What do they mean? What were we supposed to learn from them? What are we to do?
Today’s reading is very much like a dream. It feels fragmented, non-sensical, and unexpected.
Who are these folk? What’s really going on? Where is this exactly taking place?
Add to the fact that since quotation marks were not used during the time this was written, no one really knows what Jesus said, what the gospel writer wrote as an aside, if all these things were said at the same time or are they bits and pieces from others sermons, kind of like a greatest-hits compilation.
But if we let go of all those things, if we are comfortable cherishing ambiguity, then we can step into this reading for today and experience it like a memorable dream.
Today’s scripture can stay with you, linger, give you something to mull over, to think about.
What does it mean? What were we supposed to learn from it? What, if anything, are we to do?...
…Over the course of 3 weeks we have touched upon 3 topics:
-turning weapons of death into music of life
-dying so we can be born into new life
-not judging people by one season alone
I believe those themes can also be found in today’s reading.
We have the rich man who holds the fate of both the manager and the debtors in the palm of his hand. They are either his employee or they owe him much, either way he can do with them whatever he pleases.
He does not have to worry about Fair Labor Laws or anyone filing Chapter 7 or 13. So he can jail them, torment them, take their property, make them homeless.
He can use his position to be a weapon of death or an instrument of life.
Then we have the manager. He has squandered his opportunity. He had a job that didn’t require physical labor or making minimum wage. He may not have been rich but he was not poor.
He can continue to squander his life away or he can step into a kind of new life in which he can do something, anything, to help out another and himself.
Then there are the debtors. Each of them clearly is in a particular season- a season of not having enough. One owes 100 jugs of oil. Another owes 100 containers of wheat.
Who knows why they aren’t able to produce what they promised. Are they stupid? Lazy? Not willing to pull their own weight?
Did it not rain enough that year, or perhaps it rained too much? Maybe they had a loved one who was ill and all their resources went to caring for them, or perhaps they were sick themselves.
Either way, are they to be ultimately judged for the particular season they are in?
So in some ways, today’s reading is a bit like a dream. We step into it, unsure of just what we are actually being told and shown.
But because this is a story supposedly being told by Jesus, there has to be some Good News; there surely is an easy-to-distinguish moral to be told, right?
Maybe the debtors will hit upon a stroke of luck- a leprechaun, a magic bean, a fairy god-mother, and in the end they will come through it and they will all be saved and live happily ever after!
Or, maybe the manager will see the light of his squandering ways and he’ll hold a town-hall meeting in which he gives a moving, motivational speech which encourages everyone to work together and pool their resources so their town will be saved and Opie and Andy Griffith will come whistling along to have a Mayberry-ific time!
Or maybe, just maybe the rich man will be visited by three ghosts while he sleeps- the ghosts of past, present and future and he will awaken the next day forgiving everyone of their debts and buying Christmas geese for all!
But guess what? None of that happens in this story. In fact, I’m not really sure what does happen.
It seems like the manager comes up with a plan to cook the books, the towns-people are all too happy to go along, and the rich man gets a kick up of all their gumption…
…And by telling the story, Jesus seems to be telling us that it is all O.K…
So what is the Good News? There has got to be Good News.
In the past three weeks we celebrated how weapons can be turned into music, death can lead way to new life and God sees all our seasons of existence.
What is something, anything we can glean from this dream of a tale?
Maybe it’s my theology coming through, maybe it’s the building excitement of the kitchen remodeling, but one thing I see here is the notion of relationships. How people in this story interact with one another.
How the rich man calls forward the manager and asks for an accounting. How at the end, he commends the man for acting shrewdly.
How the manager goes to each debtor and works out with them a plan to satisfy everyone he can.
Did you notice why the manager does what he does? He knows he’s squandered his opportunity and is about to be fired.
But he works out a deal with each person so when he’s in his season of dissolution he will still be welcomed into their homes!
Here is that notion of hospitality and fellowship raising its dreamy head again.
Hebrews 6:35 says “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers. For by doing that, some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
The manager may not be a stranger, and he certainly is no angel in the literal sense, but you know what? Neither is anyone else in this story.
The manager is not perfect and the people may not be completely debt-free, but somehow, someway, they live another day to fellowship together: to dine together, to welcome another in, and to break bread.
In other words, through the shrewdness of the manager he gets to maintain some type of relationship with the people around him.
And who knows how those relationships will unfold, what music would emerge, what new life experiences will come to be, what seasons will arrive.
Will the manager have to eventually dig ditches? Will he get a better job? Will he perhaps be offered his old one back?
Who knows? The dream ends there, with the possibility of relationships being…real.
In conclusion, our God dreams dreams.
God’s dreams aren’t always clear to us and they may not always make sense.
Who? What? Where? When? Why?
But I do believe that some of God’s dreams involve:
-turning weapons of destruction into instruments of life
-leaving behind that which is killing us to be born into new life
-not judging people according to the season they are currently in.
I believe God’s dreams involve us finding ways to work together, live together, dine together, and not in a fairy-tale, Mayberry, Christmas-Carol kind of way,
but a way that allows for imagination, diversity and the cherishing of ambiguity.
A way for all of God’s dreamers to lead the way.
Amen and amen.
Luke 16:1-13
“What Do We Owe?”
March 17, 2013
A few months ago I shared a prayer written by Judy Vekasy. It goes like this:
Loving, gentle, holy one
Dreamer of dreams
Who dreamed me into being
Help me to realize the dream
You have dreamed me to be
I recently came across this prayer and it got me thinking: the thing about dreams, not the inspirational kind, but the ones we have while asleep, is that they don’t make sense. Ever notice how our dreams have no real beginning and no clear resolution?
They seem to always start in the middle, featuring an array of people and physical locations that don’t always make sense.
Our sleepy-time dreams are usually murky and ambiguous. Yes, they can be filled with symbols and ways in which our unconscious is trying to work things out, but the more you try to explain your dreams or figure them out the more convoluted they become.
There are the dreams we have that linger with us long after we awake. They give us something to mull over, to think about.
What do they mean? What were we supposed to learn from them? What are we to do?
Today’s reading is very much like a dream. It feels fragmented, non-sensical, and unexpected.
Who are these folk? What’s really going on? Where is this exactly taking place?
Add to the fact that since quotation marks were not used during the time this was written, no one really knows what Jesus said, what the gospel writer wrote as an aside, if all these things were said at the same time or are they bits and pieces from others sermons, kind of like a greatest-hits compilation.
But if we let go of all those things, if we are comfortable cherishing ambiguity, then we can step into this reading for today and experience it like a memorable dream.
Today’s scripture can stay with you, linger, give you something to mull over, to think about.
What does it mean? What were we supposed to learn from it? What, if anything, are we to do?...
…Over the course of 3 weeks we have touched upon 3 topics:
-turning weapons of death into music of life
-dying so we can be born into new life
-not judging people by one season alone
I believe those themes can also be found in today’s reading.
We have the rich man who holds the fate of both the manager and the debtors in the palm of his hand. They are either his employee or they owe him much, either way he can do with them whatever he pleases.
He does not have to worry about Fair Labor Laws or anyone filing Chapter 7 or 13. So he can jail them, torment them, take their property, make them homeless.
He can use his position to be a weapon of death or an instrument of life.
Then we have the manager. He has squandered his opportunity. He had a job that didn’t require physical labor or making minimum wage. He may not have been rich but he was not poor.
He can continue to squander his life away or he can step into a kind of new life in which he can do something, anything, to help out another and himself.
Then there are the debtors. Each of them clearly is in a particular season- a season of not having enough. One owes 100 jugs of oil. Another owes 100 containers of wheat.
Who knows why they aren’t able to produce what they promised. Are they stupid? Lazy? Not willing to pull their own weight?
Did it not rain enough that year, or perhaps it rained too much? Maybe they had a loved one who was ill and all their resources went to caring for them, or perhaps they were sick themselves.
Either way, are they to be ultimately judged for the particular season they are in?
So in some ways, today’s reading is a bit like a dream. We step into it, unsure of just what we are actually being told and shown.
But because this is a story supposedly being told by Jesus, there has to be some Good News; there surely is an easy-to-distinguish moral to be told, right?
Maybe the debtors will hit upon a stroke of luck- a leprechaun, a magic bean, a fairy god-mother, and in the end they will come through it and they will all be saved and live happily ever after!
Or, maybe the manager will see the light of his squandering ways and he’ll hold a town-hall meeting in which he gives a moving, motivational speech which encourages everyone to work together and pool their resources so their town will be saved and Opie and Andy Griffith will come whistling along to have a Mayberry-ific time!
Or maybe, just maybe the rich man will be visited by three ghosts while he sleeps- the ghosts of past, present and future and he will awaken the next day forgiving everyone of their debts and buying Christmas geese for all!
But guess what? None of that happens in this story. In fact, I’m not really sure what does happen.
It seems like the manager comes up with a plan to cook the books, the towns-people are all too happy to go along, and the rich man gets a kick up of all their gumption…
…And by telling the story, Jesus seems to be telling us that it is all O.K…
So what is the Good News? There has got to be Good News.
In the past three weeks we celebrated how weapons can be turned into music, death can lead way to new life and God sees all our seasons of existence.
What is something, anything we can glean from this dream of a tale?
Maybe it’s my theology coming through, maybe it’s the building excitement of the kitchen remodeling, but one thing I see here is the notion of relationships. How people in this story interact with one another.
How the rich man calls forward the manager and asks for an accounting. How at the end, he commends the man for acting shrewdly.
How the manager goes to each debtor and works out with them a plan to satisfy everyone he can.
Did you notice why the manager does what he does? He knows he’s squandered his opportunity and is about to be fired.
But he works out a deal with each person so when he’s in his season of dissolution he will still be welcomed into their homes!
Here is that notion of hospitality and fellowship raising its dreamy head again.
Hebrews 6:35 says “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers. For by doing that, some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
The manager may not be a stranger, and he certainly is no angel in the literal sense, but you know what? Neither is anyone else in this story.
The manager is not perfect and the people may not be completely debt-free, but somehow, someway, they live another day to fellowship together: to dine together, to welcome another in, and to break bread.
In other words, through the shrewdness of the manager he gets to maintain some type of relationship with the people around him.
And who knows how those relationships will unfold, what music would emerge, what new life experiences will come to be, what seasons will arrive.
Will the manager have to eventually dig ditches? Will he get a better job? Will he perhaps be offered his old one back?
Who knows? The dream ends there, with the possibility of relationships being…real.
In conclusion, our God dreams dreams.
God’s dreams aren’t always clear to us and they may not always make sense.
Who? What? Where? When? Why?
But I do believe that some of God’s dreams involve:
-turning weapons of destruction into instruments of life
-leaving behind that which is killing us to be born into new life
-not judging people according to the season they are currently in.
I believe God’s dreams involve us finding ways to work together, live together, dine together, and not in a fairy-tale, Mayberry, Christmas-Carol kind of way,
but a way that allows for imagination, diversity and the cherishing of ambiguity.
A way for all of God’s dreamers to lead the way.
Amen and amen.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Sermon for March 10, 2013; Luke 15:1-2, 11-32
Rev. George Miller
Luke 15:1-2, 11-32
“Seasons of Love”
March 10, 2013
Once upon a time (according to a variation of a story given to me by Newt and Mary Dickie), there was a woman with four daughters.
She wanted her daughters to learn about grace and to not be so quick to judge others, so she sent them on a quest.
Each, it turn, was sent to look at a pear tree a great distance away. The first went in summer, the third in fall, the third in winter, and the fourth in spring.
When they had all returned, she gathered them together to share what they had seen.
The first, who journeyed in the season of summer, described the tree as laden with blossoms that smelled so sweet and looked so beautiful.
The second daughter disagreed; she had been there is fall when the tree was ripe and rich with fruit, so much so that the branches were drooping to the ground.
The third daughter could not understand how this was so. She was there in the winter and called the tree ugly and bent, twisted and of no worth.
The fourth daughter disagreed with them all. She had gone in the spring and said the pear tree was covered with green buds and full of promise and potential.
The mother, knowing her lesson had worked well, smiled at her daughters. She explained to them that they were all right, and they were all wrong, because they had each only seen a season of the tree’s existence.
She told them that one can not judge a tree by just one season. Nor can one judge a person by just one time in their life. That the essence of who they are, the joy, the love, and the pleasure that comes from that life, can only be measured at the end, when all the seasons are accounted for.
And even then, it is not for us to judge, but for grace to abound…
Today, we, no matter who we are, no matter where we are on life’s journey, continue on the Lenten Path with Jesus.
And as we continue on the Lenten Path, it is best if we never forget, for a moment, that what Jesus said, did, taught, and the stories he told, all led him to the cross.
What we may think of as nice, or sweet, or spiritual or common sense, all led to Jesus’ death.
Even today, the very things Jesus said, did, taught and the stories he told are likely to cause controversy and debate.
Today’s story is no exception. The religious leaders are grumbling that Jesus welcomes and eat with sinners.
The scribes and Pharisees chose to see people, judge people and fellowship with people only according to the season of life they are in at that moment.
If they perceived you as being full of sweet smelling righteousness, bearing the appropriate fruit, you were worthy to dine with. But if you were spiritually and socially gnarled, bent or twisted, you were excluded from their table.
But not Jesus. No matter if someone was in the season of saint or the season of sinner, regardless is they were in the season of lost, or the season of found, Jesus ate with them.
Jesus ate with folk; all kinds of folk. He broke bread. He sat at the same table. He listened to their stories.
Some biblical scholars will even tell you that Jesus died because of who he ate with.
So when Jesus hears the grumbling over his eating habits, Jesus tells three stories. The first is about lost sheep. The second is about a lost coin. But the third story? Well, it’s the one people seem to remember most.
“There was a man who had two sons,” Jesus says to grumblers.
The story unfolds; a story so rich with simplistic detail that to retell it would be like trying to explain a joke.
So I encourage you to reread this story on your own; to seek and find the richness of what Jesus is trying to tell us.
Today, what I feel called to focus on is the concept of seasons. In reading this, I came to the conclusion that each son had their own share of seasons to go through.
The younger son went through a season of leaving home. Of high living and seemingly good times. Of squandering all he had and making choices that left him in a pig pen.
I wonder how many people here today know what those seasons are like? To be young and foolish; to be lonely and lost?
How many here today have ever spent a season or two, or three or four defined by bad choices, pangs of hunger for something more and a desire for things to go back to the way they once were?
How many know what it’s like to spend a season in a pen fit for pigs?
Would you want to be judged for that season alone? Would you want the story of your life to be summed up by one season of stink and famine, bad choices and unfortunate events?
Fortunately, for that younger son, that season came to an end as he makes the decision to return to his father, to admit his mistakes, to seek comfort where compassion exists.
In doing so, he enters into a season of new beginnings and grace, a season of welcome and joy.
His father, who sees him while still far away, runs up to him with kisses and kind words. Instead of punishing, he celebrates…
…Then there is the older son with his own season. Upon discovering his baby brother’s return, he responds with anger and judgement. He questions his father’s amazing grace and refuses to join in the celebration.
He would rather be alone than to feast and dance, to welcome and to embrace.
How many here today have ever spent a season or two, or three or four filled with anger at somebody, feeling choices that they made were not fair?
Feeling pangs of hunger over things you wish you had received; a need for someone to be seen as the bad guy so you could be seen as the good one?
How many know what it’s like to purposely exclude yourself from something fun just because you thought it was more important to make a point?
Would you want to be judged for that season alone? Would you want the story of your life to be summed up by that one time of anger and complaint, jealously and pettiness?
But notice the father and the season he shows his two sons. Though the younger son abandoned the family, though the older one abandons the party, the father abandons neither one.
When both sons stood on the outside, the father came to them. When both sons had words to say, the father listened.
In this story Jesus tells, we discover that when it comes to grace there does not have to be a loser for there to be a winner.
In this story Jesus tells, the embrace of one child does not mean rejection of the other.
What we see is an abundance of grace that goes beyond whatever season each son is in. What we see is how grace allows relationships to be restored…
Now, we are not told, but I’d be willing to bet that this story Jesus shared about the man with two sons did not make the grumblers stop grumbling. In fact, there’s a good chance it made them angrier.
Just as this story can make people angry even today.
There are those who will reread this story and be mad at the younger son for squandering his father’s inheritance.
There are those who will be mad at the older son for being judgmental.
There are those who will be mad at the father for not picking one over the other, or for not condemning one or both for their deeds.
There are those who may even be mad that the father had the audacity to show love to both.
It seems to be in our human nature to feel like there have to be losers in order for there to be winners. It seems to be in our human nature to want there to be those who are rewarded just so others can be condemned.
Some need to see one tree gnarled and twisted so they can say the other tree is beautiful and sweet.
But I believe that God sees us much differently. I believe that God sees us for more then just one season.
I believe God sees us in view of all our seasons. God sees and knows the soil in which we were planted. The nutrients we received. God knows the amount of sun and rain, wind and frost that were in our lives.
God sees those seasons where we received “enough” and the seasons in which we encountered draught; those seasons in which we were surrounded by darkness and the seasons we were basked in the light, and God judges us accordingly and loves us so.
I also believe God is aware of the seasons that stand before us. The possibilities, the choices, the people, the storms which we will weather. The successes we will have.
I believe that God does not judge us as others would. God is well aware of the seasons we are lost and the seasons in which we are found; our struggles, our pains; our talents and our joys.
I believe that God is with us in every season, through every season, and that in it all, God is like that father, waiting and watching, running and embracing, forgiving and restoring.
In conclusion, as human beings we will go through and we have all gone through our own series of seasons.
For many there is a season to squander and a time to regain.
A season to be angry and a time to forgive. A season to be alone and time to join the party.
A season to run away and a time to come home.
But in God, experienced through the life, ministry and meals of Jesus Christ, we discover that in every season, every journey, every fall from grace, every reunion, there is indeed a Season of Love, and with it another opportunity of joy.
For that we can all say amen and amen.
Luke 15:1-2, 11-32
“Seasons of Love”
March 10, 2013
Once upon a time (according to a variation of a story given to me by Newt and Mary Dickie), there was a woman with four daughters.
She wanted her daughters to learn about grace and to not be so quick to judge others, so she sent them on a quest.
Each, it turn, was sent to look at a pear tree a great distance away. The first went in summer, the third in fall, the third in winter, and the fourth in spring.
When they had all returned, she gathered them together to share what they had seen.
The first, who journeyed in the season of summer, described the tree as laden with blossoms that smelled so sweet and looked so beautiful.
The second daughter disagreed; she had been there is fall when the tree was ripe and rich with fruit, so much so that the branches were drooping to the ground.
The third daughter could not understand how this was so. She was there in the winter and called the tree ugly and bent, twisted and of no worth.
The fourth daughter disagreed with them all. She had gone in the spring and said the pear tree was covered with green buds and full of promise and potential.
The mother, knowing her lesson had worked well, smiled at her daughters. She explained to them that they were all right, and they were all wrong, because they had each only seen a season of the tree’s existence.
She told them that one can not judge a tree by just one season. Nor can one judge a person by just one time in their life. That the essence of who they are, the joy, the love, and the pleasure that comes from that life, can only be measured at the end, when all the seasons are accounted for.
And even then, it is not for us to judge, but for grace to abound…
Today, we, no matter who we are, no matter where we are on life’s journey, continue on the Lenten Path with Jesus.
And as we continue on the Lenten Path, it is best if we never forget, for a moment, that what Jesus said, did, taught, and the stories he told, all led him to the cross.
What we may think of as nice, or sweet, or spiritual or common sense, all led to Jesus’ death.
Even today, the very things Jesus said, did, taught and the stories he told are likely to cause controversy and debate.
Today’s story is no exception. The religious leaders are grumbling that Jesus welcomes and eat with sinners.
The scribes and Pharisees chose to see people, judge people and fellowship with people only according to the season of life they are in at that moment.
If they perceived you as being full of sweet smelling righteousness, bearing the appropriate fruit, you were worthy to dine with. But if you were spiritually and socially gnarled, bent or twisted, you were excluded from their table.
But not Jesus. No matter if someone was in the season of saint or the season of sinner, regardless is they were in the season of lost, or the season of found, Jesus ate with them.
Jesus ate with folk; all kinds of folk. He broke bread. He sat at the same table. He listened to their stories.
Some biblical scholars will even tell you that Jesus died because of who he ate with.
So when Jesus hears the grumbling over his eating habits, Jesus tells three stories. The first is about lost sheep. The second is about a lost coin. But the third story? Well, it’s the one people seem to remember most.
“There was a man who had two sons,” Jesus says to grumblers.
The story unfolds; a story so rich with simplistic detail that to retell it would be like trying to explain a joke.
So I encourage you to reread this story on your own; to seek and find the richness of what Jesus is trying to tell us.
Today, what I feel called to focus on is the concept of seasons. In reading this, I came to the conclusion that each son had their own share of seasons to go through.
The younger son went through a season of leaving home. Of high living and seemingly good times. Of squandering all he had and making choices that left him in a pig pen.
I wonder how many people here today know what those seasons are like? To be young and foolish; to be lonely and lost?
How many here today have ever spent a season or two, or three or four defined by bad choices, pangs of hunger for something more and a desire for things to go back to the way they once were?
How many know what it’s like to spend a season in a pen fit for pigs?
Would you want to be judged for that season alone? Would you want the story of your life to be summed up by one season of stink and famine, bad choices and unfortunate events?
Fortunately, for that younger son, that season came to an end as he makes the decision to return to his father, to admit his mistakes, to seek comfort where compassion exists.
In doing so, he enters into a season of new beginnings and grace, a season of welcome and joy.
His father, who sees him while still far away, runs up to him with kisses and kind words. Instead of punishing, he celebrates…
…Then there is the older son with his own season. Upon discovering his baby brother’s return, he responds with anger and judgement. He questions his father’s amazing grace and refuses to join in the celebration.
He would rather be alone than to feast and dance, to welcome and to embrace.
How many here today have ever spent a season or two, or three or four filled with anger at somebody, feeling choices that they made were not fair?
Feeling pangs of hunger over things you wish you had received; a need for someone to be seen as the bad guy so you could be seen as the good one?
How many know what it’s like to purposely exclude yourself from something fun just because you thought it was more important to make a point?
Would you want to be judged for that season alone? Would you want the story of your life to be summed up by that one time of anger and complaint, jealously and pettiness?
But notice the father and the season he shows his two sons. Though the younger son abandoned the family, though the older one abandons the party, the father abandons neither one.
When both sons stood on the outside, the father came to them. When both sons had words to say, the father listened.
In this story Jesus tells, we discover that when it comes to grace there does not have to be a loser for there to be a winner.
In this story Jesus tells, the embrace of one child does not mean rejection of the other.
What we see is an abundance of grace that goes beyond whatever season each son is in. What we see is how grace allows relationships to be restored…
Now, we are not told, but I’d be willing to bet that this story Jesus shared about the man with two sons did not make the grumblers stop grumbling. In fact, there’s a good chance it made them angrier.
Just as this story can make people angry even today.
There are those who will reread this story and be mad at the younger son for squandering his father’s inheritance.
There are those who will be mad at the older son for being judgmental.
There are those who will be mad at the father for not picking one over the other, or for not condemning one or both for their deeds.
There are those who may even be mad that the father had the audacity to show love to both.
It seems to be in our human nature to feel like there have to be losers in order for there to be winners. It seems to be in our human nature to want there to be those who are rewarded just so others can be condemned.
Some need to see one tree gnarled and twisted so they can say the other tree is beautiful and sweet.
But I believe that God sees us much differently. I believe that God sees us for more then just one season.
I believe God sees us in view of all our seasons. God sees and knows the soil in which we were planted. The nutrients we received. God knows the amount of sun and rain, wind and frost that were in our lives.
God sees those seasons where we received “enough” and the seasons in which we encountered draught; those seasons in which we were surrounded by darkness and the seasons we were basked in the light, and God judges us accordingly and loves us so.
I also believe God is aware of the seasons that stand before us. The possibilities, the choices, the people, the storms which we will weather. The successes we will have.
I believe that God does not judge us as others would. God is well aware of the seasons we are lost and the seasons in which we are found; our struggles, our pains; our talents and our joys.
I believe that God is with us in every season, through every season, and that in it all, God is like that father, waiting and watching, running and embracing, forgiving and restoring.
In conclusion, as human beings we will go through and we have all gone through our own series of seasons.
For many there is a season to squander and a time to regain.
A season to be angry and a time to forgive. A season to be alone and time to join the party.
A season to run away and a time to come home.
But in God, experienced through the life, ministry and meals of Jesus Christ, we discover that in every season, every journey, every fall from grace, every reunion, there is indeed a Season of Love, and with it another opportunity of joy.
For that we can all say amen and amen.
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