Rev. George Miller
Psalm 148
“Praise, Praise, Praise!!!”
Dec 29, 2013
Last time we gathered we were anticipating the birth of Jesus. For weeks we lit candles representing hope, love, peace and joy. On Tuesday night we dimmed the sanctuary and with candles in hand we sung “Silent Night” as our anticipation neared its close.
Now we have entered the 12 Days of Christmas, a time in which we keep the spirit of the season alive by waiting for Epiphany, the day the Magi arrive bearing gifts.
In the meantime, we eat left-overs, throw away excess wrapping paper, pick pieces of tinsel from off the floor and rub our bellies saying “Why did I eat so much again?”
Hopefully, we’re also basking in the after-glow of what the season is really about and what it means to say God has entered our world as a child so that we may have eternal life.
I’ve been blessed with an abundance of cards, homemade food, and gifts. One of them is a calendar with daily uplifting reminders about the goodness of life.
I’ve already started using it, keeping it on the porch where I like to sit with my morning coffee while watching the birds and spending time with the cats.
The entry from yesterday was a quote by Edith Wharton. It said this- “There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”
It got me thinking. Here’s the thing about candles: they burn out. Candles give and give and give until they are all gone. But a mirror? It can go on reflecting forever as long as there’s something to reflect.
Which lead to another thought: spiritually speaking, we are not the candle, nor are we called to be the candle.
Who is the candle???
…That means we, as Christians, get to be the mirror; we get to reflect the light that comes from God, that comes from Jesus, that comes from the Holy Spirit.
But we are not the candle.
That’s part of the beauty of today’s reading. Psalm 148 is a glorious testimony to God, our Creator. It’s a glorious song that pays tribute to God and makes the claim that we should not only praise God, but that we were created to be praising people.
It also makes a bold claim: that we are not the only beings or things that celebrate God, but all matters of creation do: cattle and creepy crawlies, cedars and citrus, snow and sun.
Even sea creatures that scare us and stars that shine in the sky offer God thanks.
Praise, praise, praise!!! this song commands. The Lord alone is exalted. Can we get an amen? Can we get an amen??
But let’s pause here for a moment because I know what some people are thinking: the sun doesn’t praise, mountains don’t sing.
Not once have we driven past an orange grove and seen the trees move or heard them break out in harmony, and if we did, that would be horrifying!
Cows go moo, ducks go quack, and ask any of your grandchildren: they’ll tell you what the fox says. But have you ever heard one say “Amen?”
Plus, let’s be honest, nature isn’t always so cute. Nature can be downright cruel. We have storms and floods, tidal waves and famines. Animals kill to eat, bugs and vermin carry disease and everything on earth and creation is in a state of decay.
Is the author speaking nonsense? Is the author telling a lie? Is the author naïve?
No. You see, there is something in theology that is called a second naiveté. It refers to the faith process that people go through.
When younger, we see the world a certain way. A place where wonder and magic can happen and we believe all that we are told, be it a Disney film or a biblical story.
As we grow older, those beliefs are challenged. We learn about history and science, philosophy and symbolism. We hear different viewpoints and the opinions of others and we come to discover that things may actually be quite different from what we originally thought.
For example: was Jonah really swallowed by a giant fish or is the fish symbolic of death, making Jonah’s story about rebirth and second chances?
A second naiveté is not about being in denial, it’s about saying “Yes, I know the reality of things, but I choose to believe the story anyway because its truth is more beautiful then facts.”
There is something about the child-like awe that wonder and belief brings into the world. There is trust and joy, and a sense that something good is bound to happen, and that it is always greater then ourselves.
A few weeks ago on TV there was an episode of The Middle that captured this notion. It features Sue Heck, a teenager who is in that awkward in-between stage. She’s uber-enthusiastic about everything and never gives up even when she fails miserably.
It’s hard to tell when her enthusiasm is child-like or childish.
In the scene we’re about to play, Sue claims she saw an image of the Santa Marie on her wall. Her Dad tries to convince her that it wasn’t real; he shares that once he thought he saw his dead grandmother, but he didn’t tell anyone because it sounded insane.
Here is Sue’s response: “No, it sounds incredible. There are so many beautiful, amazing things that happen every day that sound crazy.
Think about it: if I had to explain the miracle of how babies are born to someone who didn’t know, wouldn’t I sound insane?
Stars: I read that when a star explodes the dust they find is the same thing that makes up humans, animals, the entire universe.
How amazing is that? The same stardust is in everything and everyone. Me, you, even Christopher Columbus.
You know, in his day some people still thought the world was flat. Columbus said it was round and people thought he was crazy.
Look, I know there are always going to be doubters but it just takes someone who thinks ‘Why can’t it be true’ to truly change the world, and I am one of those people.
So how can you sit there, on this planet made of stardust that was once thought to be flat and still not think anything is possible?” (from ABC’s The Middle episode titled “Halloween IV: The Ghost Story” aired Oct 30, 2013).***
I love her logic, her passion and her claim that we are all made up of stardust. Hers is a belief that anything is possible.
And it’s because of people like Sue Heck that impossible things do take place. The Sue’s of the world are the ones who sail across an ocean, create airplanes, build parks out of swamps and believe that things like injustice can be eradicated and hunger can be defeated.
And this notion of all things being made of the same material, being made of stardust, brings us back to the imagery of Psalm 148.
In this Christmas season, it makes the child-like claim that all people, all creatures, all things praise God.
It makes the child-like claim that all people, all creatures, all things have the capacity and the ability to praise God; that the hills literally are alive with the sound of music.
Naïve? Perhaps. But think of what that means: that all things are of value, all things are of worth, and all things have a purpose and a place.
It also means that all things, all creatures, and all people come from the same source: God.
That as different as we are, as disjointed as we may seem, as at odds with one another we may feel, we are actually all connected, we are all a part of…we all belong.
What would the world look like if we chose to believe this to be true and to act in such a way, every day? What if we believed and acted that God is the source and author of all life?
What if we chose to believe and to act that God is the candle, and not us?
And that the light that came into our world is Jesus. The one born to peasants, placed in a manger, surrounded by what?: stars that shine, lowly shepherds who visit, magi who come bearing gifts, and a bevy of animals who sing their own song.
All of creation has been groaning up to this moment, but with Jesus, the light of the world entering in, all of creation gets to sing and celebrate and to anticipate the good that is bound to happen.
We get to play our part; we get to sing along and to share our gifts.
We get to praise God because we realize we are not God; we are not the candle that gives the world light, but we get to be the mirrors of that light.
We get to be mirrors with what we say, what we do, in how we live, by how we love.
Do we shine the light of Christ just to others who are like us, or can we be mirrors bright enough to shine the light of Christ to all of creation?: cattle and creepy crawlies, cedars and citrus, snow and sun, sea creatures that scare us and stars that shine in the sky.
If we are all indeed endowed with the same stardust made by the same star-maker, then we can shine just as bright as the evening sky and believe that anything is possible.
Amen and amen.
***to see the clip that was played during service, you can go to my FaceBook page. It's a shoddy copy but it's more powerful then just reading the words.
A UCC Pastor's walk through the spiritual waters of Scripture, pop culture and life.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Sermon for Christmas Eve 2013; Titus 3:3-7
Rev. George Miller
Titus 3:3-7
“Prepared for Pouring Out”
Dec 24, 2013
When encountering Luke’s telling of the Christmas Story it’s hard not to be moved when we hear there was no place in the inn.
It’s a phrase that packs an emotional wallop, centering us on the reality of Jesus’ birth: no proper place to rest one’s head, no proper place to store one’s clothes, no proper place to give weary feet a rest.
The inn was so full that it could not accommodate the birth of our Savior, so a manger had to do. And yet somehow, even with such limited space, that was enough.
It was enough for God to accomplish what God set out to do.
Jump ahead 100 years later. In a letter to Titus, the author states that the Holy Spirit is being poured out so they we may inherit eternal life.
It’s a contrast to what Joseph and Mary had experienced. The notion of being poured out sounds so lavish and extravagant; a gift given in abundance.
Trouble is, how do you receive such a wonderful gift if you are not prepared and you yourself are filled to capacity with things that may not seem so…godly?
How do you receive such a pouring out if you are filled with foolishness or envy, malice or hate for one another, the love of gossip and the constant need to put your own desires first?
If all those things fill your heart and time, how can an outpouring of the Spirit be received? How can there be any place for Jesus inside the inn of your heart?
Now I’m not one of those pastors who believe in immediate change, who will tell you to give yourself to Jesus and all your negative attributes will quickly fall away.
But I do believe that a life which sincerely welcomes Jesus is a life that experiences change and transformation, but it is usually a slow, continuous process, and certainly lifelong.
Do we ever get it right? Do we ever discard all the things that hurt us and hurt others?
Do we ever become so completely empty of all our stuff that we are filled with nothing but the Holy Spirit and the love of Jesus?
If you know of someone who has, let me know.
But here is an analogy that seems right for tonight. For the last 10 years I’ve put up a tree each Christmas, which means I have many decorations and being that kind of guy, virtually every ornament tells a story.
There are those given to me when my father died. There are cheap ones I bought when I couldn’t afford anything else. There are used ornaments purchased at thrift shops that never really felt like they were mine.
There are ones given during chapters in my life that were good, but are now long over. There are others given by people who didn’t really know me or know what else to get.
Each year I put up the tree and hang these ornaments, but they emotionally lacked luster; they felt heavy. I didn’t really want to look at them or be reminded of what they represented, so I’d hang them off to the side or in the back. They couldn’t be seen, but they took up space.
Then, there are the ornaments that bring joy, luster and feel light: the handmade ones by my sister, the funny ones sent by my brother, the playdough ornaments crafted by my nephews, and mementos from trips to New Orleans, Arizona and Saugatuck, MI.
These go on the front of the tree so they can be seen and bring a sense of deep love and joy.
Recently, my acquiring of ornaments has become intentional, collecting one every time I go somewhere: a whale ornament from Greenport, a row boat from Port Jefferson, princesses and Pixar creations from Disney, a sunbathing turtle from Wauchula.
I not only know where I was but I know who I was with when I got each one.
This year I did myself a favor. I went through the ornament collection and began removing the ones that no longer bring joy: the ones that were reminders of when I couldn’t afford anything else, the one’s that reminded me too much of a beloved’s death.
Some I left in my apartment’s laundry room for people to take, others I donated, some I kept in a box because maybe next year I will want them.
The result: a Christmas tree at its most alive, decorated mainly with ornaments that pop with colors and goodness and stories I want to recall, memories that involve the places, the people, the family, and the friends that are in my life.
Yes, there are still some ornaments hiding in the back that I’m not yet ready to take down. And I know that some of the current ones may lose their meaning and will have to be let go too. But when they are, there will be a space for new ornaments to take their place.
Let me ask you this: on this Christmas Eve, what are the symbolic ornaments you have been holding onto that need to be let go?
What are the ornaments you keep putting up that really don’t bring beauty into your world, or may actually cause you hurt?
What are the ornaments that when you look at them you don’t feel so good about yourself? Are there ones that remind you of who you use to be but no longer want to be reminded of anymore?
What ornaments are best to be taken down so that new ones, inspiring ones, beautiful ones, can be put up?
Through Jesus Christ the Holy Spirit is ready to be poured out, to decorate our lives with the most beautiful of decorations: hope and joy, peace and love, patience and generosity.
Each of us can always benefit from extra baubles of kindness and faithfulness, grace and gentleness, justice and mercy.
But we can’t have space to place these ornaments up if we continue to keep the old ones.
It doesn’t have to be a quick exchange; it can’t be a quick exchange. But with Jesus, over time it can happen.
Over time we can exchange our broken or outdated ornaments for others that are full of light and full of life, eternal life.
Eternal which means we are more than our foolish, sinful selves, but we are part of something greater.
The way that hope and kindness help to build community.
The way that love, peace and patience help to build a family.
The way that joy and gentleness helps to build friendships.
The ways that faithfulness, generosity and grace help to build the church
The ways that doing justice, loving mercy and humbly walking with the Lord help to build the world.
There will always be ornaments on our tree of life which will need to be taken off, stashed away or fully discarded.
There will always be new ornaments that are in need of making room for. Today we can simply start by welcoming Jesus into our lives.
Jesus, born in a place as small and simple as a stable.
Jesus doesn’t need the cleanest of places or the quietest of spots or the most elaborate of locations to enter into our lives. All Jesus needs is space, some space, to enter, to shine, to be radiant, and to flourish.
The color of foolishness fades; the glimmer of disobedience dims. Ego driven passions and pleasures pass away.
What is left is the light of Christ and that is forever. It is the love that is most valuable. It is the outpouring of the Holy Spirit that leads to new life, better life.
Tonight, are we ready to receive the Christ child? Tonight, are we ready for a pouring out? Tonight, are we ready to decorate our hearts with the good things that a life in Jesus brings?
Amen and amen.
Titus 3:3-7
“Prepared for Pouring Out”
Dec 24, 2013
When encountering Luke’s telling of the Christmas Story it’s hard not to be moved when we hear there was no place in the inn.
It’s a phrase that packs an emotional wallop, centering us on the reality of Jesus’ birth: no proper place to rest one’s head, no proper place to store one’s clothes, no proper place to give weary feet a rest.
The inn was so full that it could not accommodate the birth of our Savior, so a manger had to do. And yet somehow, even with such limited space, that was enough.
It was enough for God to accomplish what God set out to do.
Jump ahead 100 years later. In a letter to Titus, the author states that the Holy Spirit is being poured out so they we may inherit eternal life.
It’s a contrast to what Joseph and Mary had experienced. The notion of being poured out sounds so lavish and extravagant; a gift given in abundance.
Trouble is, how do you receive such a wonderful gift if you are not prepared and you yourself are filled to capacity with things that may not seem so…godly?
How do you receive such a pouring out if you are filled with foolishness or envy, malice or hate for one another, the love of gossip and the constant need to put your own desires first?
If all those things fill your heart and time, how can an outpouring of the Spirit be received? How can there be any place for Jesus inside the inn of your heart?
Now I’m not one of those pastors who believe in immediate change, who will tell you to give yourself to Jesus and all your negative attributes will quickly fall away.
But I do believe that a life which sincerely welcomes Jesus is a life that experiences change and transformation, but it is usually a slow, continuous process, and certainly lifelong.
Do we ever get it right? Do we ever discard all the things that hurt us and hurt others?
Do we ever become so completely empty of all our stuff that we are filled with nothing but the Holy Spirit and the love of Jesus?
If you know of someone who has, let me know.
But here is an analogy that seems right for tonight. For the last 10 years I’ve put up a tree each Christmas, which means I have many decorations and being that kind of guy, virtually every ornament tells a story.
There are those given to me when my father died. There are cheap ones I bought when I couldn’t afford anything else. There are used ornaments purchased at thrift shops that never really felt like they were mine.
There are ones given during chapters in my life that were good, but are now long over. There are others given by people who didn’t really know me or know what else to get.
Each year I put up the tree and hang these ornaments, but they emotionally lacked luster; they felt heavy. I didn’t really want to look at them or be reminded of what they represented, so I’d hang them off to the side or in the back. They couldn’t be seen, but they took up space.
Then, there are the ornaments that bring joy, luster and feel light: the handmade ones by my sister, the funny ones sent by my brother, the playdough ornaments crafted by my nephews, and mementos from trips to New Orleans, Arizona and Saugatuck, MI.
These go on the front of the tree so they can be seen and bring a sense of deep love and joy.
Recently, my acquiring of ornaments has become intentional, collecting one every time I go somewhere: a whale ornament from Greenport, a row boat from Port Jefferson, princesses and Pixar creations from Disney, a sunbathing turtle from Wauchula.
I not only know where I was but I know who I was with when I got each one.
This year I did myself a favor. I went through the ornament collection and began removing the ones that no longer bring joy: the ones that were reminders of when I couldn’t afford anything else, the one’s that reminded me too much of a beloved’s death.
Some I left in my apartment’s laundry room for people to take, others I donated, some I kept in a box because maybe next year I will want them.
The result: a Christmas tree at its most alive, decorated mainly with ornaments that pop with colors and goodness and stories I want to recall, memories that involve the places, the people, the family, and the friends that are in my life.
Yes, there are still some ornaments hiding in the back that I’m not yet ready to take down. And I know that some of the current ones may lose their meaning and will have to be let go too. But when they are, there will be a space for new ornaments to take their place.
Let me ask you this: on this Christmas Eve, what are the symbolic ornaments you have been holding onto that need to be let go?
What are the ornaments you keep putting up that really don’t bring beauty into your world, or may actually cause you hurt?
What are the ornaments that when you look at them you don’t feel so good about yourself? Are there ones that remind you of who you use to be but no longer want to be reminded of anymore?
What ornaments are best to be taken down so that new ones, inspiring ones, beautiful ones, can be put up?
Through Jesus Christ the Holy Spirit is ready to be poured out, to decorate our lives with the most beautiful of decorations: hope and joy, peace and love, patience and generosity.
Each of us can always benefit from extra baubles of kindness and faithfulness, grace and gentleness, justice and mercy.
But we can’t have space to place these ornaments up if we continue to keep the old ones.
It doesn’t have to be a quick exchange; it can’t be a quick exchange. But with Jesus, over time it can happen.
Over time we can exchange our broken or outdated ornaments for others that are full of light and full of life, eternal life.
Eternal which means we are more than our foolish, sinful selves, but we are part of something greater.
The way that hope and kindness help to build community.
The way that love, peace and patience help to build a family.
The way that joy and gentleness helps to build friendships.
The ways that faithfulness, generosity and grace help to build the church
The ways that doing justice, loving mercy and humbly walking with the Lord help to build the world.
There will always be ornaments on our tree of life which will need to be taken off, stashed away or fully discarded.
There will always be new ornaments that are in need of making room for. Today we can simply start by welcoming Jesus into our lives.
Jesus, born in a place as small and simple as a stable.
Jesus doesn’t need the cleanest of places or the quietest of spots or the most elaborate of locations to enter into our lives. All Jesus needs is space, some space, to enter, to shine, to be radiant, and to flourish.
The color of foolishness fades; the glimmer of disobedience dims. Ego driven passions and pleasures pass away.
What is left is the light of Christ and that is forever. It is the love that is most valuable. It is the outpouring of the Holy Spirit that leads to new life, better life.
Tonight, are we ready to receive the Christ child? Tonight, are we ready for a pouring out? Tonight, are we ready to decorate our hearts with the good things that a life in Jesus brings?
Amen and amen.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Sermon for Dec 22, 2013; Isaiah 7:10-16
Rev. George Miller
Isaiah 7:10-16
“Present to Past”
Dec 22, 2013
Imagine this scenario if you will: it’s Dec 8, 1941, the day after the Pearl Harbor attack. President Roosevelt addresses the nation.
He states that he has been visited by the prophet Isaiah who has told him that the Lord says to wait and be patient, to not enter into war with Japan and to trust that God will work through the tragic events.
What would your reaction be? Do you think that the world, do you think that our nation, would have been for the better?
Would Germany and Italy have declared war on the US? What would’ve happened to the people in the concentration camps? Hiroshima?
Imagine, if you will another scenario: it is Sept 12, 2001, the day after the attack on the Twin Towers. President Bush addresses the nation.
He states that he has been visited by the prophet Isaiah who has told him that the Lord says to wait and be patient, to not retaliate, or launch a War on Terror and instead to trust that God will work through the tragic events.
What would your reaction be? Do you think that the world, do you think that our nation, would have been for the better?
The two situations given are in some ways similar to the events in today’s reading.
The prophet Isaiah is ministering during a tricky time in Israel’s history. Ahaz is the king of Judah, trying to mind his business. But Assyria is causing problems, attacking smaller states to build up their empire.
Syria and the Northern Kingdom are scared for their lives; they form an alliance against Assyria and try to get Judah to go along.
But King Ahaz says “No.” So Syria and the Northern Kingdom decide to attack Judah and put a puppet leader in the king’s place.
What is King Ahaz to do? War seems to be the only option. He comes up with a plan: to side with Assyria and to fight against Syria and the Northern Kingdom.
It is a political maneuver based out of fear and the kind of maneuver that will either greatly succeed or fail miserably.
This is where the Isaiah enters in. The prophet comes to King Ahaz with a message from God: “Wait. Be patient. Don’t do anything. God will work this out.”
It must have sounded ridiculous: two nations are ready to attack and the King is told that God says to wait.
Really? Wait, and do nothing. At all?
Isaiah continues. He points to a woman. He says to the King “You see that young lady over there? She is pregnant and will give birth to a child named Immanuel. Before the kid is old enough to know right from wrong, this whole thing will have blown over.”
Can you imagine?
Isaiah is telling the King “Trust me; trust God: in a few short years this’ll all be kaput and you don’t have to do a thing.”
Wait the prophet is telling the King during a time of turmoil.
Trust the prophet is telling the King when alliances are being formed.
Listen the prophet tells the King who chooses to be deaf.
In an act of impatience, Ahaz forms an alliance with Assyria, and like a wolf in wolf’s clothing, Assyria devours the people of Judah with fire and war, leaving their streets destroyed and many of their people dead.
God, speaking through the prophet, used the promise of an unborn child to create patience and peace. The King, by choosing not to listen, experienced the consequence of worry and war.
Last week we heard our Regional Conference Minister, Rev. Sarah Lund speak so eloquently about patience.
As a dreamer from New York that’s not such an easy concept for me to embrace or a life-style choice to commit to. Therefore living in Sebring where there is no choice but to be patient can be one of the reasons why living here can be so refreshing and so infuriating.
It’s nice to go into a store or home and operate on southern or Midwestern time. It allows one to be able to talk, to meet folk, to appreciate the moment.
Then there are other times where it’s like hurry up, stop talking, get your wallet out, step on the gas, figure out where you want to go and what you want to do!!!
Ecclesiastes 3 tells us that for everything there is a season: a time to be born, a time to die. But it doesn’t say anything about a time to chill and trust God and a time to get to steppin’ and to act quickly on faith.
And Lord knows the biblical narratives don’t make it easy to figure out.
Genesis 1 tells us God took 7 days to create the world. Does that sound like a lot of time or a little bit of time to you?
What about Exodus 3? Moses is tending the sheep when out of nowhere God speaks to him from a burning bush and says “I have decided it’s about time to free the slaves and I want you to do it.”
There is no warning or preparation for Moses. Just an immediate before and after: Have a meeting with the elders and tell them the great I AM has sent you.
If you ask me, it’s God who sounds a bit impatient. Where’s the planning, the sign of a pregnant woman or words of assurance that if Moses just simply waits and does nothing God will have their problems resolved?
And then Moses does exactly what God asks him to do, and what happens? The Israelites end up having to wait and wander the desert for 40 years for God’s plan to be realized.
It’s like hurry up…to wait.
We see this also in the ministry of Jesus. He’s walking along the sea, spots Peter and Andrew and with nary an introduction he tells them “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they let down their nets and follow.
But when news gets out that his good friend Lazarus is sick and Jesus should come pay him a visit, what does he do? Jesus takes his time, three days to be exact, before going. By then, it appears to be too late.
After the crucifixion we’re told Jesus is in the tomb for 3 days before God raises him up. In your opinion is 3 days east-coast quick or southerrrn slowww?
Throughout the Bible we have examples of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit being like “Now!”, “…not yet.” “Now!” “…not yet.”
How can we ever know which is the right option? How can we ever be sure we are actually hearing a word from the Lord and not just a voice in our own head or the musings of an unstable person?
There is no solid answer for that. I read this passage and feel so bad for King Ahaz, wishing that for his sake and the sake of his people that he listened to Isaiah.
But then I think of the imagined situations we started today’s message with. How would you have felt if President Roosevelt or President Bush had based their decisions on a visit from the prophet?
To wait or to act? Which is the best to do?
I can’t say, but I believe an answer rests in something Tracy Miller, our-vice moderator, stated earlier this week “Seek first the Kingdom of God.”
In other words, as we do what we do, are we doing it for us, or for the betterment of God’s Kingdom?
Are we focused on what God ultimately wants and hopes for the people?”
Sometimes the answer we get is a very clear “yes!” Sometimes it is a very clear “no!” A lot of times we may find the answer a bit in the middle, mindful of all the complexities and sides of an argument.
So perhaps to get a sense of how to respond in the present, we bravely look back upon our past.
To learn and listen to what God has said before to get a better understanding of what God is still speaking today.
To recall the teachings of Jesus, to consider the stories he told, to look at the people he helped, healed, and reached out to and the people he ate with.
To celebrate the ways in which the Holy Spirit broke into the world, the fire it brought with it, the peoples it touched, the tongues it let loose.
Advent is a time to look forward; it is a time to anticipate.
Advent is a time to wait. To stay; to stay right where we are. To pray. To praise.
To remember the promises of the past as we are centered in the present. To be centered in the present so we can embrace the future that Immanuel (God is With Us) is creating.
Advent is a time pregnant with possibilities. A time pregnant with hope. Pregnant with joy. Pregnant with peace. Pregnant with love.
Can we stop and listen for the voice of God? Are we willing to trust that it’s not the ways of the world that are in charge but God is?
Are we willing to believe that God is still speaking, and it’s not just with periods, but commas, and dashes and even long, quiet pauses?
Are we willing to seek first, above all else, the Kingdom of God? Amen and amen.
Isaiah 7:10-16
“Present to Past”
Dec 22, 2013
Imagine this scenario if you will: it’s Dec 8, 1941, the day after the Pearl Harbor attack. President Roosevelt addresses the nation.
He states that he has been visited by the prophet Isaiah who has told him that the Lord says to wait and be patient, to not enter into war with Japan and to trust that God will work through the tragic events.
What would your reaction be? Do you think that the world, do you think that our nation, would have been for the better?
Would Germany and Italy have declared war on the US? What would’ve happened to the people in the concentration camps? Hiroshima?
Imagine, if you will another scenario: it is Sept 12, 2001, the day after the attack on the Twin Towers. President Bush addresses the nation.
He states that he has been visited by the prophet Isaiah who has told him that the Lord says to wait and be patient, to not retaliate, or launch a War on Terror and instead to trust that God will work through the tragic events.
What would your reaction be? Do you think that the world, do you think that our nation, would have been for the better?
The two situations given are in some ways similar to the events in today’s reading.
The prophet Isaiah is ministering during a tricky time in Israel’s history. Ahaz is the king of Judah, trying to mind his business. But Assyria is causing problems, attacking smaller states to build up their empire.
Syria and the Northern Kingdom are scared for their lives; they form an alliance against Assyria and try to get Judah to go along.
But King Ahaz says “No.” So Syria and the Northern Kingdom decide to attack Judah and put a puppet leader in the king’s place.
What is King Ahaz to do? War seems to be the only option. He comes up with a plan: to side with Assyria and to fight against Syria and the Northern Kingdom.
It is a political maneuver based out of fear and the kind of maneuver that will either greatly succeed or fail miserably.
This is where the Isaiah enters in. The prophet comes to King Ahaz with a message from God: “Wait. Be patient. Don’t do anything. God will work this out.”
It must have sounded ridiculous: two nations are ready to attack and the King is told that God says to wait.
Really? Wait, and do nothing. At all?
Isaiah continues. He points to a woman. He says to the King “You see that young lady over there? She is pregnant and will give birth to a child named Immanuel. Before the kid is old enough to know right from wrong, this whole thing will have blown over.”
Can you imagine?
Isaiah is telling the King “Trust me; trust God: in a few short years this’ll all be kaput and you don’t have to do a thing.”
Wait the prophet is telling the King during a time of turmoil.
Trust the prophet is telling the King when alliances are being formed.
Listen the prophet tells the King who chooses to be deaf.
In an act of impatience, Ahaz forms an alliance with Assyria, and like a wolf in wolf’s clothing, Assyria devours the people of Judah with fire and war, leaving their streets destroyed and many of their people dead.
God, speaking through the prophet, used the promise of an unborn child to create patience and peace. The King, by choosing not to listen, experienced the consequence of worry and war.
Last week we heard our Regional Conference Minister, Rev. Sarah Lund speak so eloquently about patience.
As a dreamer from New York that’s not such an easy concept for me to embrace or a life-style choice to commit to. Therefore living in Sebring where there is no choice but to be patient can be one of the reasons why living here can be so refreshing and so infuriating.
It’s nice to go into a store or home and operate on southern or Midwestern time. It allows one to be able to talk, to meet folk, to appreciate the moment.
Then there are other times where it’s like hurry up, stop talking, get your wallet out, step on the gas, figure out where you want to go and what you want to do!!!
Ecclesiastes 3 tells us that for everything there is a season: a time to be born, a time to die. But it doesn’t say anything about a time to chill and trust God and a time to get to steppin’ and to act quickly on faith.
And Lord knows the biblical narratives don’t make it easy to figure out.
Genesis 1 tells us God took 7 days to create the world. Does that sound like a lot of time or a little bit of time to you?
What about Exodus 3? Moses is tending the sheep when out of nowhere God speaks to him from a burning bush and says “I have decided it’s about time to free the slaves and I want you to do it.”
There is no warning or preparation for Moses. Just an immediate before and after: Have a meeting with the elders and tell them the great I AM has sent you.
If you ask me, it’s God who sounds a bit impatient. Where’s the planning, the sign of a pregnant woman or words of assurance that if Moses just simply waits and does nothing God will have their problems resolved?
And then Moses does exactly what God asks him to do, and what happens? The Israelites end up having to wait and wander the desert for 40 years for God’s plan to be realized.
It’s like hurry up…to wait.
We see this also in the ministry of Jesus. He’s walking along the sea, spots Peter and Andrew and with nary an introduction he tells them “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they let down their nets and follow.
But when news gets out that his good friend Lazarus is sick and Jesus should come pay him a visit, what does he do? Jesus takes his time, three days to be exact, before going. By then, it appears to be too late.
After the crucifixion we’re told Jesus is in the tomb for 3 days before God raises him up. In your opinion is 3 days east-coast quick or southerrrn slowww?
Throughout the Bible we have examples of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit being like “Now!”, “…not yet.” “Now!” “…not yet.”
How can we ever know which is the right option? How can we ever be sure we are actually hearing a word from the Lord and not just a voice in our own head or the musings of an unstable person?
There is no solid answer for that. I read this passage and feel so bad for King Ahaz, wishing that for his sake and the sake of his people that he listened to Isaiah.
But then I think of the imagined situations we started today’s message with. How would you have felt if President Roosevelt or President Bush had based their decisions on a visit from the prophet?
To wait or to act? Which is the best to do?
I can’t say, but I believe an answer rests in something Tracy Miller, our-vice moderator, stated earlier this week “Seek first the Kingdom of God.”
In other words, as we do what we do, are we doing it for us, or for the betterment of God’s Kingdom?
Are we focused on what God ultimately wants and hopes for the people?”
Sometimes the answer we get is a very clear “yes!” Sometimes it is a very clear “no!” A lot of times we may find the answer a bit in the middle, mindful of all the complexities and sides of an argument.
So perhaps to get a sense of how to respond in the present, we bravely look back upon our past.
To learn and listen to what God has said before to get a better understanding of what God is still speaking today.
To recall the teachings of Jesus, to consider the stories he told, to look at the people he helped, healed, and reached out to and the people he ate with.
To celebrate the ways in which the Holy Spirit broke into the world, the fire it brought with it, the peoples it touched, the tongues it let loose.
Advent is a time to look forward; it is a time to anticipate.
Advent is a time to wait. To stay; to stay right where we are. To pray. To praise.
To remember the promises of the past as we are centered in the present. To be centered in the present so we can embrace the future that Immanuel (God is With Us) is creating.
Advent is a time pregnant with possibilities. A time pregnant with hope. Pregnant with joy. Pregnant with peace. Pregnant with love.
Can we stop and listen for the voice of God? Are we willing to trust that it’s not the ways of the world that are in charge but God is?
Are we willing to believe that God is still speaking, and it’s not just with periods, but commas, and dashes and even long, quiet pauses?
Are we willing to seek first, above all else, the Kingdom of God? Amen and amen.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Sermon from Sunday, Dec 8, 2013; Matthew 1:18-25
Rev. George Miller
Matthew 1:18-25
“Life is But a Dream”
Deb 8, 2013
(This sermon is done in character, as Joseph)
Ever since I became engaged to Mary, I’ve had the most wonderful of dreams. Of what the ceremony would be like. The wedding feast. The wedding night. The children we’d have.
These joyful dreams are based on hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. Hope that life will become easier.
It was my auntie who once told me “When you hope, you are hoping with God.”
What she did not tell me, however, is that life can change in an instant. That in a single moment, everything can be turned upside down and nothing is what you expected it to be.
I discovered that Mary is pregnant and we are not yet officially wed.
We are engaged, which legally means we have a binding contract: she is mine and I am hers. This makes her my wife, but for the next year, until our wedding day, Mary is to stay in her father’s home. Any sign of unfaithfulness is considered adultery.
The fact that Mary is pregnant before our wedding day means she has brought great shame onto both her father’s household and onto mine.
Shame is not something we welcome.
Now it feels as if all my dreams have been shattered; all the joy has been ripped away.
Soon Mary will be showing; soon people will point their fingers and talk. Soon the names will begin and the gossip will start.
I know what needs to be done. I am, after all, a righteous man. I desire to be free from guilt and sin. I know the Laws of Moses; I know what is considered morally right and good.
The Law, the Holy Scripture, is very clear. I could take her to court and demand that her family repay the bride price.
Even more extreme, Deuteronomy 22 says that Mary can be brought out in front of her father’s home, or the gates of the city and stoned to death by the men of our village.
Both are humiliating and in my opinion, inhumane. I am a righteous man; but I am also compassionate.
Mary, my betrothed, is distressed. How can my heart not care?
…but what about the Law. The Law is said to be a gift from God, a source of joy.
The Law is what kept us alive when times were rough. The Law maintained our identity when all seemed lost.
The Law tells us that we are not unimportant as the rest of the world says we were. The law reminds us that we matter to God and that God cares for us.
And that gives us joy.
Does being righteous mean to only look in a rule book or can it also mean to wrestle with the complexities of life, listening for the Voice of God during difficult times?
And doesn’t the Law also speak about mercy? Doesn’t is speak about grace? Don’t the 10 Commandments tell us how to love God and love our neighbor?
Aren’t we called to do justice and love kindness?
How does holding Mary up for public humiliation and possible death do any of these things?
I’ve had a difficult decision to make: follow the letter of the law or the supreme demand of love.
To decide if God speaks in static periods; or if God allows for commas and dashes.
So I decided the best option was to divorce her; to send Mary away quietly. I know she has a cousin somewhere in Judea; perhaps she can live out her life with them.
She can leave before she starts to show, therefore removing any shame from my and her father’s household.
Still the choice was not easy. I needed more time to accept my decision.
I don’t know about you, but when faced with a difficulty, I sleep. Some people pray, some seek the counsel of others, I nap.
It clears my head, it settles my soul.
I had the most unusual of dreams. As clear as day, an angel came to me, a heavenly being of bright light.
He said to me not to be afraid to wed Mary. That her child is the work of the Holy Spirit. That he will be called Jesus and will save God’s people from their sins.
I awoke, muttering the words “Emmanuel” over and over again.
“Emmanuel”: God is with us.
That’s what the dream had felt like: that God was with me. It lead me to think of all the ways God has been with us.
How long, long ago, when we were enslaved in Egypt God was with us and set us free.
How when we crossed the wilderness, God was with us and fed us with manna from heaven and water from a rock.
How Isaiah’s prophecy came true and we were taken into exile, but God was with us and encouraged us to plant and build, sing and dance, get married and give birth.
How God was with us when my people returned to the ruins of Jerusalem and were called to rebuild and start anew.
And we did.
“Emmanuel”: God is with us.
I thought of my own history, the women in my family tree who had endured their own scandalous relationships: Tamar and Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba.
Each of these women had pregnancies that raised eyebrows. Yet God worked though those events and changed the course of history.
If the letter of the Law had been followed back then, there would not have been a Boaz, there would not have been a King David, there would not have been a King Solomon…therefore there would not have been a…me.
I am a righteous man, a just man. But my dream has revealed that being righteous also means showing compassion, and not being afraid.
Even if that decision means believing the life inside of Mary is greater than the Law that has been handed down for generations.
Life is but a dream, and I realize that our life will not be easy. I know that as Mary starts to show, people will say things. I say let them.
People like to think they know the truth but they don’t; God does- and that’s what matters.
I have decided that no matter what anyone else says, we will get through this and it will be a time of joy.
As the life inside of Mary grows, it will be a testimony to the Sacred’s ability to act in our life. That even the poor, meek, and lowly, like us, matter to God.
When Mary gives birth, I will care for that child like he is my own, because in many ways he is. I will cradle him in my arms, aware that within him earth and heaven have met.
I will teach him what I know: how to build, how to be part of a community, how to live both as a righteous man and a man of compassion.
How to make the right choices even when they are not the easiest thing to do.
How to dream and to believe in a better tomorrow and trust that nothing is impossible with God.
How to not judge people solely on the events in their life, but to see them through the eyes of their maker.
Life can change in an instant. The future we imagine is not always the future we will get.
Circumstances occur that make us wrestle; that challenge what we think and what we’ve been taught.
But with God (and a good night’s sleep), we can make choices that allow us live in the heart of the Law: to act with compassion, to do justice, to love kindness.
We get to humbly walk with the Lord and play our own role in creation.
As long as we believe that God is still speaking, we can find joy in believing that there is a better tomorrow.
This allows us to have joy; joy based in knowing that as long as God is with us, there is always hope for the world.
Amen and amen.
Matthew 1:18-25
“Life is But a Dream”
Deb 8, 2013
(This sermon is done in character, as Joseph)
Ever since I became engaged to Mary, I’ve had the most wonderful of dreams. Of what the ceremony would be like. The wedding feast. The wedding night. The children we’d have.
These joyful dreams are based on hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. Hope that life will become easier.
It was my auntie who once told me “When you hope, you are hoping with God.”
What she did not tell me, however, is that life can change in an instant. That in a single moment, everything can be turned upside down and nothing is what you expected it to be.
I discovered that Mary is pregnant and we are not yet officially wed.
We are engaged, which legally means we have a binding contract: she is mine and I am hers. This makes her my wife, but for the next year, until our wedding day, Mary is to stay in her father’s home. Any sign of unfaithfulness is considered adultery.
The fact that Mary is pregnant before our wedding day means she has brought great shame onto both her father’s household and onto mine.
Shame is not something we welcome.
Now it feels as if all my dreams have been shattered; all the joy has been ripped away.
Soon Mary will be showing; soon people will point their fingers and talk. Soon the names will begin and the gossip will start.
I know what needs to be done. I am, after all, a righteous man. I desire to be free from guilt and sin. I know the Laws of Moses; I know what is considered morally right and good.
The Law, the Holy Scripture, is very clear. I could take her to court and demand that her family repay the bride price.
Even more extreme, Deuteronomy 22 says that Mary can be brought out in front of her father’s home, or the gates of the city and stoned to death by the men of our village.
Both are humiliating and in my opinion, inhumane. I am a righteous man; but I am also compassionate.
Mary, my betrothed, is distressed. How can my heart not care?
…but what about the Law. The Law is said to be a gift from God, a source of joy.
The Law is what kept us alive when times were rough. The Law maintained our identity when all seemed lost.
The Law tells us that we are not unimportant as the rest of the world says we were. The law reminds us that we matter to God and that God cares for us.
And that gives us joy.
Does being righteous mean to only look in a rule book or can it also mean to wrestle with the complexities of life, listening for the Voice of God during difficult times?
And doesn’t the Law also speak about mercy? Doesn’t is speak about grace? Don’t the 10 Commandments tell us how to love God and love our neighbor?
Aren’t we called to do justice and love kindness?
How does holding Mary up for public humiliation and possible death do any of these things?
I’ve had a difficult decision to make: follow the letter of the law or the supreme demand of love.
To decide if God speaks in static periods; or if God allows for commas and dashes.
So I decided the best option was to divorce her; to send Mary away quietly. I know she has a cousin somewhere in Judea; perhaps she can live out her life with them.
She can leave before she starts to show, therefore removing any shame from my and her father’s household.
Still the choice was not easy. I needed more time to accept my decision.
I don’t know about you, but when faced with a difficulty, I sleep. Some people pray, some seek the counsel of others, I nap.
It clears my head, it settles my soul.
I had the most unusual of dreams. As clear as day, an angel came to me, a heavenly being of bright light.
He said to me not to be afraid to wed Mary. That her child is the work of the Holy Spirit. That he will be called Jesus and will save God’s people from their sins.
I awoke, muttering the words “Emmanuel” over and over again.
“Emmanuel”: God is with us.
That’s what the dream had felt like: that God was with me. It lead me to think of all the ways God has been with us.
How long, long ago, when we were enslaved in Egypt God was with us and set us free.
How when we crossed the wilderness, God was with us and fed us with manna from heaven and water from a rock.
How Isaiah’s prophecy came true and we were taken into exile, but God was with us and encouraged us to plant and build, sing and dance, get married and give birth.
How God was with us when my people returned to the ruins of Jerusalem and were called to rebuild and start anew.
And we did.
“Emmanuel”: God is with us.
I thought of my own history, the women in my family tree who had endured their own scandalous relationships: Tamar and Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba.
Each of these women had pregnancies that raised eyebrows. Yet God worked though those events and changed the course of history.
If the letter of the Law had been followed back then, there would not have been a Boaz, there would not have been a King David, there would not have been a King Solomon…therefore there would not have been a…me.
I am a righteous man, a just man. But my dream has revealed that being righteous also means showing compassion, and not being afraid.
Even if that decision means believing the life inside of Mary is greater than the Law that has been handed down for generations.
Life is but a dream, and I realize that our life will not be easy. I know that as Mary starts to show, people will say things. I say let them.
People like to think they know the truth but they don’t; God does- and that’s what matters.
I have decided that no matter what anyone else says, we will get through this and it will be a time of joy.
As the life inside of Mary grows, it will be a testimony to the Sacred’s ability to act in our life. That even the poor, meek, and lowly, like us, matter to God.
When Mary gives birth, I will care for that child like he is my own, because in many ways he is. I will cradle him in my arms, aware that within him earth and heaven have met.
I will teach him what I know: how to build, how to be part of a community, how to live both as a righteous man and a man of compassion.
How to make the right choices even when they are not the easiest thing to do.
How to dream and to believe in a better tomorrow and trust that nothing is impossible with God.
How to not judge people solely on the events in their life, but to see them through the eyes of their maker.
Life can change in an instant. The future we imagine is not always the future we will get.
Circumstances occur that make us wrestle; that challenge what we think and what we’ve been taught.
But with God (and a good night’s sleep), we can make choices that allow us live in the heart of the Law: to act with compassion, to do justice, to love kindness.
We get to humbly walk with the Lord and play our own role in creation.
As long as we believe that God is still speaking, we can find joy in believing that there is a better tomorrow.
This allows us to have joy; joy based in knowing that as long as God is with us, there is always hope for the world.
Amen and amen.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Sermon for Dec 1, 2013; Matthew 1:1-17
Rev. George Miller
Matthew 1:1-17
“From Blessed Promise to Blessed Savior”
Dec 1, 2013
In 1960 there was a song by Ben E. King that was released called “Spanish Harlem”. It was later rerecorded by the King, Elvis Presley. Personally, I prefer the version done by Aretha Franklin, the Queen of Soul.
With her hearty vocals the song becomes a celebration of a beautiful woman, a “rose” who was able to flourish amidst the hard concrete. It’s a song about hope even in the most bleak of situations.
Back in October, I came across a bumper sticker which read “Well behaved women seldom make history.” It’s a quote from Laurel Thatcher, a Harvard professor and historian who specializes in what she called “the silent work of ordinary people.”
This week, from the screen to the news to the stage there have been plenty of women who have not been what one would call “well behaved.”
The number #1 movie out right now is “Hunger Games: Catching Fire” about a young woman named Katniss who is strong willed and a killer with a bow and arrow.
She is not only willing to risk it all for the sake of her village and her family; she becomes the figure of hope and the leader of a revolution against a corrupt government.
In the news, while people are busy battling each other over discounted electronics, there is a mother in Jerusalem who is being fined $150 a day for refusing to have her child circumcised. She says she doesn’t want to wish him harm.
On a much lighter note, many of us just saw the touring production of “Menopause-The Musical.” Talk about women behaving any-which-way possible.
Four women meet in a department store and over the course of 90 minutes they discuss and sing about every topic conceivable, and I mean every topic: night sweats, body images, food cravings and lloovvee.
Let me tell you- it wasn’t just the women on stage who were misbehaving: it was the entire audience: laughing in agreement, laughing in shock, laughing in a sense of sisterhood that could scare the weakest of male egos.
Aretha Franklin would say all these women were roses and deserving of r-e-s-p-e-c-t.
Laurel Thatcher would say that indeed well behaved women seldom make history.
In today’s reading, well-behaved women don’t make it at all.
What we just heard is one of the least read scriptures in the history of worship. It’s a list of over 40 names in which the author of Matthew gives his own genealogy of Jesus as traced through Joseph, husband of Mary.
17 verses of who-was-the-father-of-who can seem tedious and people may ask “what’s the point?”
The point is this: Matthew was writing to folk who had experienced a major war between the Romans and the Jews.
Things seem hopeless, even after a decade passes by. Nearly everything and everyone was destroyed. Thousands of people were killed; thousands were spread out around the continent and the Temple has been burned to the ground for good.
Without their homes, their neighbors or a place to worship, the people feel as though they will lose their identity forever.
It’s as if they have been encased in concrete.
To give them hope, Matthew tells them the Good News about Jesus Christ. First, he begins with the genealogy. It’s like going through a photo album. Many of the names are familiar; and since the names are familiar, so are their stories.
Stories that involve over coming great obstacles, stories that involve great journeys, stories that invoke moments of greatness, flourishing and having “enough.”
Stories that lead to Joseph becoming the husband of a certain rose we know as Mary.
Verses 11, 12 and 17 focus on the Exile, a similar event 600 years before when the people had experienced and endured a similar attack on their city.
Writing the genealogy is Matthew’s way of offering hope. It’s his way of saying “We’ve been through this before and survived; therefore we will survive again.”
The genealogy reminds them about the eternal covenant God made with Abraham that his family would bless all the families of the world. Each person listed is a reminder of how through it all God has been working to keep that promise alive.
Each name given is a reminder that through feasts and famines, smooth roads and topes, green pastures and barren wildernesses, God has not forgotten, God is not asleep and roses have been blooming.
Then, in a sly move that bucks the trend of his day, Matthew decides to list not one, not two, but four women in the genealogy. It’s very subtle; very slick.
If you don’t know the stories of the Old Testament, these four women are easy to miss. But if you do, you know these four women were not the best behaved.
They each had scandalous relationships; they each showed initiative in their own destiny. Each of these four mothers led lives that were worthy of their own movie, news clip or musical revue.
First there is the wife of Uriah, known as Bathsheba. She had a dangerous liaison with King David that was at best a relationship of consenting adulterers; at worst she was a victim of political power.
Either way, she bore David a son who died in infancy and another who would become King Solomon, the wisest man on earth.
There is a Ruth, a poor Gentile foreigner who used her beauty and mother’s cunning to find a way into the bed of Boaz and to become the grandmother of King David.
There is Rahab, a prostitute and madam, who protects Jewish spies in her brothel and barters for the safety of her and her family. She becomes the mother of Boaz and great-grandmother of David.
Then there is Tamar. She was wed to a man who dies without having a male heir. So she follows the custom of her day and marries his brother. He dies too.
Wanting to produce a male heir in honor of her first husband, Tamar does the most-unbehaving act: she pretends she is a prostitute, seduces her widowed father-in-law Judah and has a set of twins by him.
It’s as if we took Bathsheba, Ruth and Rahab and rolled them into one thorny rose. And yet it’s her actions which ensure the family tree will continue.
All these stories are there for you to read. They are there so you can laugh, applaud, scratch your head over and wonder about.
And they are there in Matthew’s genealogy to prepare us for the birth of Jesus, the shoot of Jesse. They are there for us as we begin our Advent season and we prepare to once again welcome the Son of God.
But why are these four daring, eclectic misbehaving women here to start the story?
I think part of this genealogy’s purpose is to remind us that we have a God who acts, a God who plays a part in history as it unfolds, no matter how messy things may be.
I believe this genealogy reminds us that from blessed promise to blessed savior, there is hope for a better tomorrow and that God moves through the decisions and actions of humans, whether they are filled with folly or laced with the best laid plans.
This genealogy is a reminder that people may be of different backgrounds, different faiths, and a different set of values but that God has a way of speaking and creating and connecting the dots even if all we see are dashes and detours, even if we see dead ends, destruction or concrete.
None of these women stood idly by the entire time as their story played out. Each of them played their own part; each did what they thought was needed, whether we deem it as wrong or right, that lead to the next chapter being told.
By doing so they each found a role to play in God’s plan for salvation; no one is a passive participant in God’s story.
The Advent season has begun.
This week should not just be about finding new ways to prepare left overs; it’s not just about Grey Thursday, Black Friday, or Cyber Monday.
It’s about hope.
Hope that in the birth of Jesus, God will act again. Hope that God will continue to act.
Hope that things will get better and we will move closer to the reality of peace in the world, plenty for all and the lion lying down with the lamb.
But not hope that wants us to be passive; not the kind of hope that sits around waiting for someone else to step up, speak out or act on our behalf.
But hope that says “I am willing to play my part, I am willing to do what God requires, and I am even willing to do some holy misbehaving for the sake of the kingdom.”
Hope is what was permeates today’s genealogy. Hope is what’s spoken to the shepherds by the angels. Hope is what lights the way for us all this month.
You may feel at times like a caged bird, but hope will allow you to sing.
You may feel left behind by the love of your life, but hope will lead you to proclaim “Oh well, tomorrow is another day.”
You may feel like you are surrounded by a world of concrete, but hope will allow roses to grow and for respect to be claimed.
Because when we hope, we can act; and as we act, we can grow anywhere, under any situation.
Because when we hope, we play our own role in bringing about God’s blessed promises.
Because when we hope, we are hoping with God.
Amen and amen.
***Preacher’s notes: The last sentence quote is a quote from a Holocaust survivor I heard speak in 2001. Sadly, I have forgotten her name.
This work wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for “The Shady Ladies of Matthew’s Genealogy” by John Shelby Spong. For more information on these 4 Biblical roses, check out Genesis 38, Joshua 2 & 6, the Book of Ruth (especially ch. 3) and II Samuel 11.
Also in the news this week was the story of three women in Cairo, named Rasha Azab, Mona Seif and Nazly Hussein who are campaigning for democracy and speaking out against the abuses of police and military power. They were beaten, dragged into a truck and dropped off the middle of a dark, remote highway. For 31-year old Azab this was the second time it happened. The first time she was alone.
Re: Bathsheba. Due to the voices of modern theologians, such as Rev. Dr. Deb Krause, it is almost impossible to view Bathsheba’s relationship with King David as mutual, but an act of political power/possibly rape. It is later in the narratives of 1 Kings 1:11-31 and 2:13-19 in which we hear Bathsheba develop a voice, although concerns still exist.
Matthew 1:1-17
“From Blessed Promise to Blessed Savior”
Dec 1, 2013
In 1960 there was a song by Ben E. King that was released called “Spanish Harlem”. It was later rerecorded by the King, Elvis Presley. Personally, I prefer the version done by Aretha Franklin, the Queen of Soul.
With her hearty vocals the song becomes a celebration of a beautiful woman, a “rose” who was able to flourish amidst the hard concrete. It’s a song about hope even in the most bleak of situations.
Back in October, I came across a bumper sticker which read “Well behaved women seldom make history.” It’s a quote from Laurel Thatcher, a Harvard professor and historian who specializes in what she called “the silent work of ordinary people.”
This week, from the screen to the news to the stage there have been plenty of women who have not been what one would call “well behaved.”
The number #1 movie out right now is “Hunger Games: Catching Fire” about a young woman named Katniss who is strong willed and a killer with a bow and arrow.
She is not only willing to risk it all for the sake of her village and her family; she becomes the figure of hope and the leader of a revolution against a corrupt government.
In the news, while people are busy battling each other over discounted electronics, there is a mother in Jerusalem who is being fined $150 a day for refusing to have her child circumcised. She says she doesn’t want to wish him harm.
On a much lighter note, many of us just saw the touring production of “Menopause-The Musical.” Talk about women behaving any-which-way possible.
Four women meet in a department store and over the course of 90 minutes they discuss and sing about every topic conceivable, and I mean every topic: night sweats, body images, food cravings and lloovvee.
Let me tell you- it wasn’t just the women on stage who were misbehaving: it was the entire audience: laughing in agreement, laughing in shock, laughing in a sense of sisterhood that could scare the weakest of male egos.
Aretha Franklin would say all these women were roses and deserving of r-e-s-p-e-c-t.
Laurel Thatcher would say that indeed well behaved women seldom make history.
In today’s reading, well-behaved women don’t make it at all.
What we just heard is one of the least read scriptures in the history of worship. It’s a list of over 40 names in which the author of Matthew gives his own genealogy of Jesus as traced through Joseph, husband of Mary.
17 verses of who-was-the-father-of-who can seem tedious and people may ask “what’s the point?”
The point is this: Matthew was writing to folk who had experienced a major war between the Romans and the Jews.
Things seem hopeless, even after a decade passes by. Nearly everything and everyone was destroyed. Thousands of people were killed; thousands were spread out around the continent and the Temple has been burned to the ground for good.
Without their homes, their neighbors or a place to worship, the people feel as though they will lose their identity forever.
It’s as if they have been encased in concrete.
To give them hope, Matthew tells them the Good News about Jesus Christ. First, he begins with the genealogy. It’s like going through a photo album. Many of the names are familiar; and since the names are familiar, so are their stories.
Stories that involve over coming great obstacles, stories that involve great journeys, stories that invoke moments of greatness, flourishing and having “enough.”
Stories that lead to Joseph becoming the husband of a certain rose we know as Mary.
Verses 11, 12 and 17 focus on the Exile, a similar event 600 years before when the people had experienced and endured a similar attack on their city.
Writing the genealogy is Matthew’s way of offering hope. It’s his way of saying “We’ve been through this before and survived; therefore we will survive again.”
The genealogy reminds them about the eternal covenant God made with Abraham that his family would bless all the families of the world. Each person listed is a reminder of how through it all God has been working to keep that promise alive.
Each name given is a reminder that through feasts and famines, smooth roads and topes, green pastures and barren wildernesses, God has not forgotten, God is not asleep and roses have been blooming.
Then, in a sly move that bucks the trend of his day, Matthew decides to list not one, not two, but four women in the genealogy. It’s very subtle; very slick.
If you don’t know the stories of the Old Testament, these four women are easy to miss. But if you do, you know these four women were not the best behaved.
They each had scandalous relationships; they each showed initiative in their own destiny. Each of these four mothers led lives that were worthy of their own movie, news clip or musical revue.
First there is the wife of Uriah, known as Bathsheba. She had a dangerous liaison with King David that was at best a relationship of consenting adulterers; at worst she was a victim of political power.
Either way, she bore David a son who died in infancy and another who would become King Solomon, the wisest man on earth.
There is a Ruth, a poor Gentile foreigner who used her beauty and mother’s cunning to find a way into the bed of Boaz and to become the grandmother of King David.
There is Rahab, a prostitute and madam, who protects Jewish spies in her brothel and barters for the safety of her and her family. She becomes the mother of Boaz and great-grandmother of David.
Then there is Tamar. She was wed to a man who dies without having a male heir. So she follows the custom of her day and marries his brother. He dies too.
Wanting to produce a male heir in honor of her first husband, Tamar does the most-unbehaving act: she pretends she is a prostitute, seduces her widowed father-in-law Judah and has a set of twins by him.
It’s as if we took Bathsheba, Ruth and Rahab and rolled them into one thorny rose. And yet it’s her actions which ensure the family tree will continue.
All these stories are there for you to read. They are there so you can laugh, applaud, scratch your head over and wonder about.
And they are there in Matthew’s genealogy to prepare us for the birth of Jesus, the shoot of Jesse. They are there for us as we begin our Advent season and we prepare to once again welcome the Son of God.
But why are these four daring, eclectic misbehaving women here to start the story?
I think part of this genealogy’s purpose is to remind us that we have a God who acts, a God who plays a part in history as it unfolds, no matter how messy things may be.
I believe this genealogy reminds us that from blessed promise to blessed savior, there is hope for a better tomorrow and that God moves through the decisions and actions of humans, whether they are filled with folly or laced with the best laid plans.
This genealogy is a reminder that people may be of different backgrounds, different faiths, and a different set of values but that God has a way of speaking and creating and connecting the dots even if all we see are dashes and detours, even if we see dead ends, destruction or concrete.
None of these women stood idly by the entire time as their story played out. Each of them played their own part; each did what they thought was needed, whether we deem it as wrong or right, that lead to the next chapter being told.
By doing so they each found a role to play in God’s plan for salvation; no one is a passive participant in God’s story.
The Advent season has begun.
This week should not just be about finding new ways to prepare left overs; it’s not just about Grey Thursday, Black Friday, or Cyber Monday.
It’s about hope.
Hope that in the birth of Jesus, God will act again. Hope that God will continue to act.
Hope that things will get better and we will move closer to the reality of peace in the world, plenty for all and the lion lying down with the lamb.
But not hope that wants us to be passive; not the kind of hope that sits around waiting for someone else to step up, speak out or act on our behalf.
But hope that says “I am willing to play my part, I am willing to do what God requires, and I am even willing to do some holy misbehaving for the sake of the kingdom.”
Hope is what was permeates today’s genealogy. Hope is what’s spoken to the shepherds by the angels. Hope is what lights the way for us all this month.
You may feel at times like a caged bird, but hope will allow you to sing.
You may feel left behind by the love of your life, but hope will lead you to proclaim “Oh well, tomorrow is another day.”
You may feel like you are surrounded by a world of concrete, but hope will allow roses to grow and for respect to be claimed.
Because when we hope, we can act; and as we act, we can grow anywhere, under any situation.
Because when we hope, we play our own role in bringing about God’s blessed promises.
Because when we hope, we are hoping with God.
Amen and amen.
***Preacher’s notes: The last sentence quote is a quote from a Holocaust survivor I heard speak in 2001. Sadly, I have forgotten her name.
This work wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for “The Shady Ladies of Matthew’s Genealogy” by John Shelby Spong. For more information on these 4 Biblical roses, check out Genesis 38, Joshua 2 & 6, the Book of Ruth (especially ch. 3) and II Samuel 11.
Also in the news this week was the story of three women in Cairo, named Rasha Azab, Mona Seif and Nazly Hussein who are campaigning for democracy and speaking out against the abuses of police and military power. They were beaten, dragged into a truck and dropped off the middle of a dark, remote highway. For 31-year old Azab this was the second time it happened. The first time she was alone.
Re: Bathsheba. Due to the voices of modern theologians, such as Rev. Dr. Deb Krause, it is almost impossible to view Bathsheba’s relationship with King David as mutual, but an act of political power/possibly rape. It is later in the narratives of 1 Kings 1:11-31 and 2:13-19 in which we hear Bathsheba develop a voice, although concerns still exist.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Sermon for Nov 24, 2013; Luke 1:68-79
Rev. George Miller
Luke 1:68-79
“…of What’s to Come”
November 24, 2013
Fathers and sons usually have an interesting relationship, one that is often based on issues of identity and hopes for the future.
Last week’s episode of the TV show Modern Family dealt with this theme.
The family was going to a local fair. Jay, the patriarch, is with his wife Gloria and his adopted son, Manny. Manny is not like other boys; he is 12 years old but has an old soul. He enjoys wearing fedoras, wooing girls with poetry and his drink of choice is espresso.
Manny is entering the fair’s cake contest and has created a confectionary replication of Los Angeles. Jay is not too happy about this, worried that Manny will be teased by all the other kids and wishes he was more into things like football.
The episode moves along in a usual sitcom pace. The cake judging is about to take place, but Manny’s cake is not there and they have 10 seconds to get it to the table.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Manny says, as he leads her through the crowd, barreling through the people, knocking down anyone who gets in his path of victory.
The football coach witnesses Manny’s focus, strength and determination and next thing you know, Manny is on the football team as their ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-fullback and leads them to their first victory.
Jay, his father, is so proud; but truth be told Manny is more excited about winning 1st place in the cake contest!
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, based on issues of identity, hopes for the future, expectations and wanting to pass on a bit of oneself and family history.
Though not a parent, I see this in my interactions with Cornelius (my ‘Lil Brothers through BBBS).
Now, Cornelius is the one who is into sports and football and I, well you know I like my Disney, cakes and show tunes.
We both are learning so much from one another. He has taught me about the rules of football but I have to tell you, Cornelius made my day when he told me, on his own, that he wanted to audition for the theater’s upcoming production of “Wizard of Oz.” That’s an experience we can share together.
But the truth is, Cornelius could tell me he despises theater and dislikes Disney, and I’d be fine with that, because it’s more important that he discovers who he is meant to be and that he grows into that person as healthily and honestly as he can.
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, and in today’s reading we hear the words of a father speaking to and about his son.
Zechariah is a priest. One day, while in the Temple, he is visited by the angel Gabriel who tells Zechariah the good news: he will indeed have a son; the child will be called John and he will be the reason for much joy and gladness.
But the news is tempered with a reality: as amazing as John will be, he is actually just a precursor to what’s to come.
John will bring families back together and he will bring wisdom to the foolish, but alas, John is not going to be the star player.
He is not going to be the quarterback of the team or the one who scores the winning touchdown. He is going to be more like the fullback, making the way for the Lord.
I wonder how Zechariah responded to this news. First of all, he must have been amazed and perplexed: there is an angel talking to him! How often does that happen!
But then, there is the human side. His son will bring joy and gladness, but he will not be the ultimate reason for that joy and gladness.
His son will pave the way; but he will not, never ever, be The Way.
Often times, we are too familiar with the stories in the Bible; often times we place its people on high holy-chairs. We know the stories, how they are ultimately going to play out. We know what Jesus is going to do; we know the lives that he will forever transform.
So we forget to look at the people and characters within the story to get a clear idea into how they must feel, what they go through, what their internal monologues must have sounded like.
As Luke tells us, Zechariah is actually struck mute by the angel. During his wife’s pregnancy, he is not able to speak a single, solitary word.
I imagine that this time of silence must have given Zechariah a lot of time to think about things. So much to ponder: so much time to accept what was and what was not to be.
His son was to be great; but not the greatest.
Would that be good enough for Zechariah; would that do?
Think about it: if this was a Greek tragedy, if this was a Shakespearean play, the story would have unfolded much differently. Zechariah would have railed against the prophecy and found some way, any way to make his son the star; to make his son the King.
He would have visited witches at a cauldron or got his hands on a poisoned potion or kidnapped the Christ child.
And perhaps at some point, Zechariah did entertain those thoughts; but then, somehow, some way, he found the ability to…let them go.
Instead of harboring a grudge or focusing on what would never be for his son, Zechariah instead found a way to faithfully look ahead and embrace the promise…of what’s to come.
After his son is born, after Zechariah agrees that his son is to be called John, Zechariah’s speech is restored. And after giving praise to God, he speaks the words we heard today.
With nine months to get used to the state of things, he speaks eloquently of what God has done and what God will do.
Though Jesus is yet to be born, he acknowledges that it will be the son of Mary and Joseph who will fulfill the words of the prophets, who will lead the people to victory and rescue them from their enemies.
What an amazing, humble thing to say about someone else’s child. What class, what character Zechariah shows.
But I do not sense it means that Zechariah loves his own son any less, it just means that he now fully understands who his son is and what he is meant to be.
His son is the one to go up ahead and to prepare the way; he is the one to plant the seeds of wisdom about salvation and forgiveness.
He may not be the Messiah but he will be called the prophet of the Most High; he may not be “The Son of God” but he will play his own role in bringing light into the life of people covered in darkness.
His feet may not be the ones that bring people over the winning goal line, but he will play his own part in guiding their feet in the way of victory.
And there is nothing wrong about that; and any father, anywhere, should be proud that their son could play such a role…
…Today is Christ is King Sunday. Today we celebrate that Jesus was more than a carpenter. More than a rabbi. More than our friend.
Today we celebrate Christ as King.
Not a king that dominates. Not a king that humiliates or beats people into submission. Not a King that overtakes people’s lands and taxes them into poverty.
But a King who heals. A king who gathers and restores. A king who feeds.
A king whose strength does not come from working out at the gym or the threat of military arms, but from his very essence and nature; from the heavenly Kingdom that he was brought here to establish on earth.
And here is the good news: because Christ is King, we do not have to be.
Because Christ was, is and forever shall be King, we don’t have to overburden ourselves with tasks and roles we were not created for or called to do.
Because Christ is King, we are not; therefore we can focus our attention onto who we are and the best version of ourselves that we can be.
And, I do not believe John is the one and only person called to pave a way for the Lord. I don’t believe John is the only one to give knowledge of salvation to others and share light with others in darkness.
We can too, each in our own, special way. We have all been blessed with our own unique spiritual gifts; we all have our own talents, ways of sharing joy, ways of being bearers of gladness.
With knowledge that Christ is King, and we are not, we have the opportunity to sit back, relax, and be resplendent, doing what we know we can do the best.
Thankful that God has always had a plan in place for the world.
Beginning with Abraham and Sarah, following through to Moses and Miriam, continuing with people like Zechariah and Elizabeth, and their son John, that plan has continued, even when topes have taken place, even when events of darkness have seemed to take hold.
Christ is indeed King and in him God has a heavenly playbook and a heavenly plan.
Some of us are best at baking cakes; others as being fullbacks; some may even be able to do both. But we each get to play our own role; we each get to share our part.
In doing so we each find our own way to be resplendent and to shine a light into the darkness: to share the gift of mercy with the oppressed, forgiveness with the broken down, and joy to those who weep.
Christ is indeed King; we are all blessed to play a part in his heavenly court and in his earthly field.
Amen and amen.
Luke 1:68-79
“…of What’s to Come”
November 24, 2013
Fathers and sons usually have an interesting relationship, one that is often based on issues of identity and hopes for the future.
Last week’s episode of the TV show Modern Family dealt with this theme.
The family was going to a local fair. Jay, the patriarch, is with his wife Gloria and his adopted son, Manny. Manny is not like other boys; he is 12 years old but has an old soul. He enjoys wearing fedoras, wooing girls with poetry and his drink of choice is espresso.
Manny is entering the fair’s cake contest and has created a confectionary replication of Los Angeles. Jay is not too happy about this, worried that Manny will be teased by all the other kids and wishes he was more into things like football.
The episode moves along in a usual sitcom pace. The cake judging is about to take place, but Manny’s cake is not there and they have 10 seconds to get it to the table.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Manny says, as he leads her through the crowd, barreling through the people, knocking down anyone who gets in his path of victory.
The football coach witnesses Manny’s focus, strength and determination and next thing you know, Manny is on the football team as their ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-fullback and leads them to their first victory.
Jay, his father, is so proud; but truth be told Manny is more excited about winning 1st place in the cake contest!
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, based on issues of identity, hopes for the future, expectations and wanting to pass on a bit of oneself and family history.
Though not a parent, I see this in my interactions with Cornelius (my ‘Lil Brothers through BBBS).
Now, Cornelius is the one who is into sports and football and I, well you know I like my Disney, cakes and show tunes.
We both are learning so much from one another. He has taught me about the rules of football but I have to tell you, Cornelius made my day when he told me, on his own, that he wanted to audition for the theater’s upcoming production of “Wizard of Oz.” That’s an experience we can share together.
But the truth is, Cornelius could tell me he despises theater and dislikes Disney, and I’d be fine with that, because it’s more important that he discovers who he is meant to be and that he grows into that person as healthily and honestly as he can.
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, and in today’s reading we hear the words of a father speaking to and about his son.
Zechariah is a priest. One day, while in the Temple, he is visited by the angel Gabriel who tells Zechariah the good news: he will indeed have a son; the child will be called John and he will be the reason for much joy and gladness.
But the news is tempered with a reality: as amazing as John will be, he is actually just a precursor to what’s to come.
John will bring families back together and he will bring wisdom to the foolish, but alas, John is not going to be the star player.
He is not going to be the quarterback of the team or the one who scores the winning touchdown. He is going to be more like the fullback, making the way for the Lord.
I wonder how Zechariah responded to this news. First of all, he must have been amazed and perplexed: there is an angel talking to him! How often does that happen!
But then, there is the human side. His son will bring joy and gladness, but he will not be the ultimate reason for that joy and gladness.
His son will pave the way; but he will not, never ever, be The Way.
Often times, we are too familiar with the stories in the Bible; often times we place its people on high holy-chairs. We know the stories, how they are ultimately going to play out. We know what Jesus is going to do; we know the lives that he will forever transform.
So we forget to look at the people and characters within the story to get a clear idea into how they must feel, what they go through, what their internal monologues must have sounded like.
As Luke tells us, Zechariah is actually struck mute by the angel. During his wife’s pregnancy, he is not able to speak a single, solitary word.
I imagine that this time of silence must have given Zechariah a lot of time to think about things. So much to ponder: so much time to accept what was and what was not to be.
His son was to be great; but not the greatest.
Would that be good enough for Zechariah; would that do?
Think about it: if this was a Greek tragedy, if this was a Shakespearean play, the story would have unfolded much differently. Zechariah would have railed against the prophecy and found some way, any way to make his son the star; to make his son the King.
He would have visited witches at a cauldron or got his hands on a poisoned potion or kidnapped the Christ child.
And perhaps at some point, Zechariah did entertain those thoughts; but then, somehow, some way, he found the ability to…let them go.
Instead of harboring a grudge or focusing on what would never be for his son, Zechariah instead found a way to faithfully look ahead and embrace the promise…of what’s to come.
After his son is born, after Zechariah agrees that his son is to be called John, Zechariah’s speech is restored. And after giving praise to God, he speaks the words we heard today.
With nine months to get used to the state of things, he speaks eloquently of what God has done and what God will do.
Though Jesus is yet to be born, he acknowledges that it will be the son of Mary and Joseph who will fulfill the words of the prophets, who will lead the people to victory and rescue them from their enemies.
What an amazing, humble thing to say about someone else’s child. What class, what character Zechariah shows.
But I do not sense it means that Zechariah loves his own son any less, it just means that he now fully understands who his son is and what he is meant to be.
His son is the one to go up ahead and to prepare the way; he is the one to plant the seeds of wisdom about salvation and forgiveness.
He may not be the Messiah but he will be called the prophet of the Most High; he may not be “The Son of God” but he will play his own role in bringing light into the life of people covered in darkness.
His feet may not be the ones that bring people over the winning goal line, but he will play his own part in guiding their feet in the way of victory.
And there is nothing wrong about that; and any father, anywhere, should be proud that their son could play such a role…
…Today is Christ is King Sunday. Today we celebrate that Jesus was more than a carpenter. More than a rabbi. More than our friend.
Today we celebrate Christ as King.
Not a king that dominates. Not a king that humiliates or beats people into submission. Not a King that overtakes people’s lands and taxes them into poverty.
But a King who heals. A king who gathers and restores. A king who feeds.
A king whose strength does not come from working out at the gym or the threat of military arms, but from his very essence and nature; from the heavenly Kingdom that he was brought here to establish on earth.
And here is the good news: because Christ is King, we do not have to be.
Because Christ was, is and forever shall be King, we don’t have to overburden ourselves with tasks and roles we were not created for or called to do.
Because Christ is King, we are not; therefore we can focus our attention onto who we are and the best version of ourselves that we can be.
And, I do not believe John is the one and only person called to pave a way for the Lord. I don’t believe John is the only one to give knowledge of salvation to others and share light with others in darkness.
We can too, each in our own, special way. We have all been blessed with our own unique spiritual gifts; we all have our own talents, ways of sharing joy, ways of being bearers of gladness.
With knowledge that Christ is King, and we are not, we have the opportunity to sit back, relax, and be resplendent, doing what we know we can do the best.
Thankful that God has always had a plan in place for the world.
Beginning with Abraham and Sarah, following through to Moses and Miriam, continuing with people like Zechariah and Elizabeth, and their son John, that plan has continued, even when topes have taken place, even when events of darkness have seemed to take hold.
Christ is indeed King and in him God has a heavenly playbook and a heavenly plan.
Some of us are best at baking cakes; others as being fullbacks; some may even be able to do both. But we each get to play our own role; we each get to share our part.
In doing so we each find our own way to be resplendent and to shine a light into the darkness: to share the gift of mercy with the oppressed, forgiveness with the broken down, and joy to those who weep.
Christ is indeed King; we are all blessed to play a part in his heavenly court and in his earthly field.
Amen and amen.
Sermon for Nov 24, 2013; Luke 1:68-79
Rev. George Miller
Luke 1:68-79
“…of What’s to Come”
November 24, 2013
Fathers and sons usually have an interesting relationship, one that is often based on issues of identity and hopes for the future.
Last week’s episode of the TV show Modern Family dealt with this theme.
The family was going to a local fair. Jay, the patriarch, is with his wife Gloria and his adopted son, Manny. Manny is not like other boys; he is 12 years old but has an old soul. He enjoys wearing fedoras, wooing girls with poetry and his drink of choice is espresso.
Manny is entering the fair’s cake contest and has created a confectionary replication of Los Angeles. Jay is not too happy about this, worried that Manny will be teased by all the other kids and wishes he was more into things like football.
The episode moves along in a usual sitcom pace. The cake judging is about to take place, but Manny’s cake is not there and they have 10 seconds to get it to the table.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Manny says, as he leads her through the crowd, barreling through the people, knocking down anyone who gets in his path of victory.
The football coach witnesses Manny’s focus, strength and determination and next thing you know, Manny is on the football team as their ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-fullback and leads them to their first victory.
Jay, his father, is so proud; but truth be told Manny is more excited about winning 1st place in the cake contest!
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, based on issues of identity, hopes for the future, expectations and wanting to pass on a bit of oneself and family history.
Though not a parent, I see this in my interactions with Cornelius (my ‘Lil Brothers through BBBS).
Now, Cornelius is the one who is into sports and football and I, well you know I like my Disney, cakes and show tunes.
We both are learning so much from one another. He has taught me about the rules of football but I have to tell you, Cornelius made my day when he told me, on his own, that he wanted to audition for the theater’s upcoming production of “Wizard of Oz.” That’s an experience we can share together.
But the truth is, Cornelius could tell me he despises theater and dislikes Disney, and I’d be fine with that, because it’s more important that he discovers who he is meant to be and that he grows into that person as healthily and honestly as he can.
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, and in today’s reading we hear the words of a father speaking to and about his son.
Zechariah is a priest. One day, while in the Temple, he is visited by the angel Gabriel who tells Zechariah the good news: he will indeed have a son; the child will be called John and he will be the reason for much joy and gladness.
But the news is tempered with a reality: as amazing as John will be, he is actually just a precursor to what’s to come.
John will bring families back together and he will bring wisdom to the foolish, but alas, John is not going to be the star player.
He is not going to be the quarterback of the team or the one who scores the winning touchdown. He is going to be more like the fullback, making the way for the Lord.
I wonder how Zechariah responded to this news. First of all, he must have been amazed and perplexed: there is an angel talking to him! How often does that happen!
But then, there is the human side. His son will bring joy and gladness, but he will not be the ultimate reason for that joy and gladness.
His son will pave the way; but he will not, never ever, be The Way.
Often times, we are too familiar with the stories in the Bible; often times we place its people on high holy-chairs. We know the stories, how they are ultimately going to play out. We know what Jesus is going to do; we know the lives that he will forever transform.
So we forget to look at the people and characters within the story to get a clear idea into how they must feel, what they go through, what their internal monologues must have sounded like.
As Luke tells us, Zechariah is actually struck mute by the angel. During his wife’s pregnancy, he is not able to speak a single, solitary word.
I imagine that this time of silence must have given Zechariah a lot of time to think about things. So much to ponder: so much time to accept what was and what was not to be.
His son was to be great; but not the greatest.
Would that be good enough for Zechariah; would that do?
Think about it: if this was a Greek tragedy, if this was a Shakespearean play, the story would have unfolded much differently. Zechariah would have railed against the prophecy and found some way, any way to make his son the star; to make his son the King.
He would have visited witches at a cauldron or got his hands on a poisoned potion or kidnapped the Christ child.
And perhaps at some point, Zechariah did entertain those thoughts; but then, somehow, some way, he found the ability to…let them go.
Instead of harboring a grudge or focusing on what would never be for his son, Zechariah instead found a way to faithfully look ahead and embrace the promise…of what’s to come.
After his son is born, after Zechariah agrees that his son is to be called John, Zechariah’s speech is restored. And after giving praise to God, he speaks the words we heard today.
With nine months to get used to the state of things, he speaks eloquently of what God has done and what God will do.
Though Jesus is yet to be born, he acknowledges that it will be the son of Mary and Joseph who will fulfill the words of the prophets, who will lead the people to victory and rescue them from their enemies.
What an amazing, humble thing to say about someone else’s child. What class, what character Zechariah shows.
But I do not sense it means that Zechariah loves his own son any less, it just means that he now fully understands who his son is and what he is meant to be.
His son is the one to go up ahead and to prepare the way; he is the one to plant the seeds of wisdom about salvation and forgiveness.
He may not be the Messiah but he will be called the prophet of the Most High; he may not be “The Son of God” but he will play his own role in bringing light into the life of people covered in darkness.
His feet may not be the ones that bring people over the winning goal line, but he will play his own part in guiding their feet in the way of victory.
And there is nothing wrong about that; and any father, anywhere, should be proud that their son could play such a role…
…Today is Christ is King Sunday. Today we celebrate that Jesus was more than a carpenter. More than a rabbi. More than our friend.
Today we celebrate Christ as King.
Not a king that dominates. Not a king that humiliates or beats people into submission. Not a King that overtakes people’s lands and taxes them into poverty.
But a King who heals. A king who gathers and restores. A king who feeds.
A king whose strength does not come from working out at the gym or the threat of military arms, but from his very essence and nature; from the heavenly Kingdom that he was brought here to establish on earth.
And here is the good news: because Christ is King, we do not have to be.
Because Christ was, is and forever shall be King, we don’t have to overburden ourselves with tasks and roles we were not created for or called to do.
Because Christ is King, we are not; therefore we can focus our attention onto who we are and the best version of ourselves that we can be.
And, I do not believe John is the one and only person called to pave a way for the Lord. I don’t believe John is the only one to give knowledge of salvation to others and share light with others in darkness.
We can too, each in our own, special way. We have all been blessed with our own unique spiritual gifts; we all have our own talents, ways of sharing joy, ways of being bearers of gladness.
With knowledge that Christ is King, and we are not, we have the opportunity to sit back, relax, and be resplendent, doing what we know we can do the best.
Thankful that God has always had a plan in place for the world.
Beginning with Abraham and Sarah, following through to Moses and Miriam, continuing with people like Zechariah and Elizabeth, and their son John, that plan has continued, even when topes have taken place, even when events of darkness have seemed to take hold.
Christ is indeed King and in him God has a heavenly playbook and a heavenly plan.
Some of us are best at baking cakes; others as being fullbacks; some may even be able to do both. But we each get to play our own role; we each get to share our part.
In doing so we each find our own way to be resplendent and to shine a light into the darkness: to share the gift of mercy with the oppressed, forgiveness with the broken down, and joy to those who weep.
Christ is indeed King; we are all blessed to play a part in his heavenly court and in his earthly field.
Amen and amen.
Luke 1:68-79
“…of What’s to Come”
November 24, 2013
Fathers and sons usually have an interesting relationship, one that is often based on issues of identity and hopes for the future.
Last week’s episode of the TV show Modern Family dealt with this theme.
The family was going to a local fair. Jay, the patriarch, is with his wife Gloria and his adopted son, Manny. Manny is not like other boys; he is 12 years old but has an old soul. He enjoys wearing fedoras, wooing girls with poetry and his drink of choice is espresso.
Manny is entering the fair’s cake contest and has created a confectionary replication of Los Angeles. Jay is not too happy about this, worried that Manny will be teased by all the other kids and wishes he was more into things like football.
The episode moves along in a usual sitcom pace. The cake judging is about to take place, but Manny’s cake is not there and they have 10 seconds to get it to the table.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Manny says, as he leads her through the crowd, barreling through the people, knocking down anyone who gets in his path of victory.
The football coach witnesses Manny’s focus, strength and determination and next thing you know, Manny is on the football team as their ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬-fullback and leads them to their first victory.
Jay, his father, is so proud; but truth be told Manny is more excited about winning 1st place in the cake contest!
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, based on issues of identity, hopes for the future, expectations and wanting to pass on a bit of oneself and family history.
Though not a parent, I see this in my interactions with Cornelius (my ‘Lil Brothers through BBBS).
Now, Cornelius is the one who is into sports and football and I, well you know I like my Disney, cakes and show tunes.
We both are learning so much from one another. He has taught me about the rules of football but I have to tell you, Cornelius made my day when he told me, on his own, that he wanted to audition for the theater’s upcoming production of “Wizard of Oz.” That’s an experience we can share together.
But the truth is, Cornelius could tell me he despises theater and dislikes Disney, and I’d be fine with that, because it’s more important that he discovers who he is meant to be and that he grows into that person as healthily and honestly as he can.
Fathers and sons usually have interesting relationships, and in today’s reading we hear the words of a father speaking to and about his son.
Zechariah is a priest. One day, while in the Temple, he is visited by the angel Gabriel who tells Zechariah the good news: he will indeed have a son; the child will be called John and he will be the reason for much joy and gladness.
But the news is tempered with a reality: as amazing as John will be, he is actually just a precursor to what’s to come.
John will bring families back together and he will bring wisdom to the foolish, but alas, John is not going to be the star player.
He is not going to be the quarterback of the team or the one who scores the winning touchdown. He is going to be more like the fullback, making the way for the Lord.
I wonder how Zechariah responded to this news. First of all, he must have been amazed and perplexed: there is an angel talking to him! How often does that happen!
But then, there is the human side. His son will bring joy and gladness, but he will not be the ultimate reason for that joy and gladness.
His son will pave the way; but he will not, never ever, be The Way.
Often times, we are too familiar with the stories in the Bible; often times we place its people on high holy-chairs. We know the stories, how they are ultimately going to play out. We know what Jesus is going to do; we know the lives that he will forever transform.
So we forget to look at the people and characters within the story to get a clear idea into how they must feel, what they go through, what their internal monologues must have sounded like.
As Luke tells us, Zechariah is actually struck mute by the angel. During his wife’s pregnancy, he is not able to speak a single, solitary word.
I imagine that this time of silence must have given Zechariah a lot of time to think about things. So much to ponder: so much time to accept what was and what was not to be.
His son was to be great; but not the greatest.
Would that be good enough for Zechariah; would that do?
Think about it: if this was a Greek tragedy, if this was a Shakespearean play, the story would have unfolded much differently. Zechariah would have railed against the prophecy and found some way, any way to make his son the star; to make his son the King.
He would have visited witches at a cauldron or got his hands on a poisoned potion or kidnapped the Christ child.
And perhaps at some point, Zechariah did entertain those thoughts; but then, somehow, some way, he found the ability to…let them go.
Instead of harboring a grudge or focusing on what would never be for his son, Zechariah instead found a way to faithfully look ahead and embrace the promise…of what’s to come.
After his son is born, after Zechariah agrees that his son is to be called John, Zechariah’s speech is restored. And after giving praise to God, he speaks the words we heard today.
With nine months to get used to the state of things, he speaks eloquently of what God has done and what God will do.
Though Jesus is yet to be born, he acknowledges that it will be the son of Mary and Joseph who will fulfill the words of the prophets, who will lead the people to victory and rescue them from their enemies.
What an amazing, humble thing to say about someone else’s child. What class, what character Zechariah shows.
But I do not sense it means that Zechariah loves his own son any less, it just means that he now fully understands who his son is and what he is meant to be.
His son is the one to go up ahead and to prepare the way; he is the one to plant the seeds of wisdom about salvation and forgiveness.
He may not be the Messiah but he will be called the prophet of the Most High; he may not be “The Son of God” but he will play his own role in bringing light into the life of people covered in darkness.
His feet may not be the ones that bring people over the winning goal line, but he will play his own part in guiding their feet in the way of victory.
And there is nothing wrong about that; and any father, anywhere, should be proud that their son could play such a role…
…Today is Christ is King Sunday. Today we celebrate that Jesus was more than a carpenter. More than a rabbi. More than our friend.
Today we celebrate Christ as King.
Not a king that dominates. Not a king that humiliates or beats people into submission. Not a King that overtakes people’s lands and taxes them into poverty.
But a King who heals. A king who gathers and restores. A king who feeds.
A king whose strength does not come from working out at the gym or the threat of military arms, but from his very essence and nature; from the heavenly Kingdom that he was brought here to establish on earth.
And here is the good news: because Christ is King, we do not have to be.
Because Christ was, is and forever shall be King, we don’t have to overburden ourselves with tasks and roles we were not created for or called to do.
Because Christ is King, we are not; therefore we can focus our attention onto who we are and the best version of ourselves that we can be.
And, I do not believe John is the one and only person called to pave a way for the Lord. I don’t believe John is the only one to give knowledge of salvation to others and share light with others in darkness.
We can too, each in our own, special way. We have all been blessed with our own unique spiritual gifts; we all have our own talents, ways of sharing joy, ways of being bearers of gladness.
With knowledge that Christ is King, and we are not, we have the opportunity to sit back, relax, and be resplendent, doing what we know we can do the best.
Thankful that God has always had a plan in place for the world.
Beginning with Abraham and Sarah, following through to Moses and Miriam, continuing with people like Zechariah and Elizabeth, and their son John, that plan has continued, even when topes have taken place, even when events of darkness have seemed to take hold.
Christ is indeed King and in him God has a heavenly playbook and a heavenly plan.
Some of us are best at baking cakes; others as being fullbacks; some may even be able to do both. But we each get to play our own role; we each get to share our part.
In doing so we each find our own way to be resplendent and to shine a light into the darkness: to share the gift of mercy with the oppressed, forgiveness with the broken down, and joy to those who weep.
Christ is indeed King; we are all blessed to play a part in his heavenly court and in his earthly field.
Amen and amen.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Sermon for Nov 17, 2013; Isaiah 65:17-25
Rev. George Miller
Isaiah 65:17-25
“Days of a Tree”
Nov 17, 2013
Currently I’m reading Little House On the Prairie which I find to be a shockingly unsentimental look at what life in the west was like long ago.
As the novel starts, the family leaves the safety of the woods in Wisconsin to travel further out west. It’s not an easy journey. They travel in the winter, when the waters are frozen over. It takes courage and conviction. The girls get restless; the long journey takes its toll.
One day Pa points far out to the horizon. “We’re coming to a creek or a river…can you see those trees ahead?”
His daughter stands up; all she can see is a smudge of something in the distance.
“That’s trees,” the father says. “In this country, trees mean water. That’s where we’ll camp tonight.”
It’s not their permanent stop, but it’s a resting place where they can catch their breath and stretch their legs before they continue on their journey.
I like this imagery of trees, that their presence represents so much more then shade and rest, but of water, living water; the source of all life…
I’ve got to tell you: I’m jealous of y’all. Last week you got to be a part of the Harvest Home Fall Festival. I got to attend the FL Conference Fall Gathering.
Y’all got to welcome members of the local community; I got to hear people bemoan the fact that no one wants to go to church.
Y’all got to go from table to table to visit folk, sell things, talk, laugh, and eat delicious homemade soup. I got to sit at a table for 6 hours, hearing folk speak about I-don’t-know-what and eat a sandwich with a piece of roast beef and a slice of cheese.
But there was one cool thing I got to do: hear how our “Still Speaking” campaign came to be.
Ron Buford, our guest presenter, is the man behind our denomination’s use of red and black, our adoption of the comma, and the use of the “God is Still Speaking” slogan.
As he explained, Ron was on vacation in FL when he came across a gift shop that sold bumper stickers. In that shop was a quote from Gracie Allen, George Burns’ wife.
The quote was “Never place a period where God has placed a comma.”
Sounds nice, right? But Ron shared with us the context of the quote.
Gracie Allen had grown ill; she was aware that she was going to die soon, and she knew that her husband would have a difficult time living without her. So she wrote a letter to George to be read at her funeral.
It was in this letter directed to her grieving husband that Gracie wrote “Never place a period where God has put a comma.”
In the truthful darkness of her death, Gracie created these words to give her grieving husband light, and somehow, someway those words have come to us, as a reminder that God is still speaking.
Context is everything.
Words of hope written to people having fun at a festival are one thing; words of hope written to faint-hearted folk at a funeral are another.
Much of the Bible was written during funeral times, to address funeral issues. The children of Israel had faced death so many times: the barrenness of Abraham and Sarah; the Israelites enslavement in Egypt.
Yet, like trees planted by the river, they did not wither completely. Though it was not always easy they found ways to bear fruit and to grow, even when death was present.
Context is everything. To appreciate today’s reading it’s good to know when it was written. Modern scholars believe the book of Isaiah was written by 3 people.
The original author wrote to warn the people that war was in the air and they would experience impending doom if they didn’t change their ways. The prophet was right, Jerusalem was destroyed and the people were taken captive.
Chapters 40-55 were said to be written by a different author after the prophecy had come true. They were words directed to the captive people who had watched their entire city destroyed and all their hopes and dreams stripped away.
God speaks to the people to assure them that eventually this too will pass, and one day…one day their families will have the chance to return home and rebuild their city.
50 years pass before that promise is realized. By that time a generation has been born and died. Those who choose to return home expect life to go back to the way it once was. But instead their beloved city is still in ruins: the streets tore up, their houses gone, their fields full of weeds and their Temple completely burned to the ground.
It’s as if God has lied to them.
They attempt to rebuild their lives. It’s not easy. The local economy is shot, inflation is high, and everyone is so focused on themselves that no one has the time, energy or money to rebuild the Temple.
They have structurally and symbolically put God and the worship of God last, and then they wonder why God is no longer speaking or doing anything.
That’s where the words of today’s reading come in.
Modern scholars believe a third author wrote chapters 56-66. He is writing to people who had come out of a bad situation, thinking things were going to be better, only to discover they were just as bad if not worse.
Though their fields are fallow, God says “I am about to create something new.”
Though their infrastructure is completely destroyed, God says “I am about to build something amazing.”
Though their Temple is no more, and they have no place to praise God, God says “I will rejoice in you and find delight in my people.”
Though they were dragged out of their homes and forced to live as captives in another land, God says “You will benefit from your own handiwork and live in your own homes again.”
And though they had been ripped up by their roots and left to wither in enemy soil, God says “Like a tree planted by the river, you will not be moved and you will flourish.”
What do we make out of this? This would be like speaking such words to the people of the Philippines. This would be like speaking such words to the residents of New York on Sept 12, 2001.
Do we have here a God who lies? A God who is insane? A God who is unrealistic?
…What about a God who hopes? A God who still speaks? A God who is optimistic?
A God who created once before and can create again…and again…and again?
The people, the land, the buildings may all be in rubble, but God still speaks and says “I am about to create something new.”
Now there are different ways to take this passage. You could say the new creation God is speaking about is heaven, the heaven of pop culture; the place we go when we die that doesn’t exist until we take our last breath.
Or (as Tracy so eloquently spoke about last week) God could be speaking about a state of being in which everything and everyone is influenced by the reality of God.
This new heaven and earth that God is creating could be a state of mind and a reality we can actually experience now if we are willing to trust, we are willing to seek, and we are willing to play a part in.
Here, in this 2nd understanding, we are talking about the Kingdom of God, which is being created. A state of being in the presence of the Creator so completely that every act, every word, every deed is done with God as the focus.
I believe this it was the writer of Isaiah 65 is talking about; a way of being in which all people get to experience quality and creation: the sick are given the chance to be healed, hungry are given the chance to be fed and everyone has a place to call home.
I don’t believe God only wants us to focus on a new creation that will only exist when we die, but a new creation that can exist, that does exist as we live and breathe in the here and now.
After all, isn’t that part of what believing in the Resurrection is about?
We are children of the Resurrection. This mysterious event, this act of God that cannot be fully explained, that makes no sense to the rational mind, is the ultimate act of optimism that God is still speaking and ushering a new creation upon the world.
Because when Jesus died that should have been the end; God should have been silenced forever. But that was not the case, for God still was speaking and still had more words to say.
Out of death’s existing rubble, God ushered in the life of new creation…and it has been astounding.
And yes, it’s a new creation that has been at least 2,000 years in the process, but it is the one in which we are called to participate, ever living in the moment, believing in the future as opposed to being stuck in the past.
Through the resurrection God’s hope for the world has made itself blatantly known. And we don’t have to wait to die to see what that hope is; we can witness it now and participate in our own unique way.
That’s what the earliest followers of Christ did: they lived believing the Kingdom had already broken in: they shared resources, they fed the hungry, they reached out to the sick, they shared meals, called one another “sister” and “brother” and found joy in all that God, their Father, had done.
Sometimes we feel like we are on a perilous path. Sometimes we are in a state of destruction. Sometimes we are in the need to rebuild.
But if we recall the stories of our spiritual ancestors, if we recall that God brought life to a childless couple, God brought freedom to lowly slaves, and that God promised a new creation to exiles living amongst rubble, then we too can become like trees beside the river.
Trees with strong roots, trees bearing much fruit, trees enjoying the eternal life that comes from being watered by Christ.
God is still speaking. And if God is still speaking, then God is still acting. And if God is still acting, then there is still hope.
As people of the comma, as people of the resurrection, there is always hope.
Amen and amen.
Isaiah 65:17-25
“Days of a Tree”
Nov 17, 2013
Currently I’m reading Little House On the Prairie which I find to be a shockingly unsentimental look at what life in the west was like long ago.
As the novel starts, the family leaves the safety of the woods in Wisconsin to travel further out west. It’s not an easy journey. They travel in the winter, when the waters are frozen over. It takes courage and conviction. The girls get restless; the long journey takes its toll.
One day Pa points far out to the horizon. “We’re coming to a creek or a river…can you see those trees ahead?”
His daughter stands up; all she can see is a smudge of something in the distance.
“That’s trees,” the father says. “In this country, trees mean water. That’s where we’ll camp tonight.”
It’s not their permanent stop, but it’s a resting place where they can catch their breath and stretch their legs before they continue on their journey.
I like this imagery of trees, that their presence represents so much more then shade and rest, but of water, living water; the source of all life…
I’ve got to tell you: I’m jealous of y’all. Last week you got to be a part of the Harvest Home Fall Festival. I got to attend the FL Conference Fall Gathering.
Y’all got to welcome members of the local community; I got to hear people bemoan the fact that no one wants to go to church.
Y’all got to go from table to table to visit folk, sell things, talk, laugh, and eat delicious homemade soup. I got to sit at a table for 6 hours, hearing folk speak about I-don’t-know-what and eat a sandwich with a piece of roast beef and a slice of cheese.
But there was one cool thing I got to do: hear how our “Still Speaking” campaign came to be.
Ron Buford, our guest presenter, is the man behind our denomination’s use of red and black, our adoption of the comma, and the use of the “God is Still Speaking” slogan.
As he explained, Ron was on vacation in FL when he came across a gift shop that sold bumper stickers. In that shop was a quote from Gracie Allen, George Burns’ wife.
The quote was “Never place a period where God has placed a comma.”
Sounds nice, right? But Ron shared with us the context of the quote.
Gracie Allen had grown ill; she was aware that she was going to die soon, and she knew that her husband would have a difficult time living without her. So she wrote a letter to George to be read at her funeral.
It was in this letter directed to her grieving husband that Gracie wrote “Never place a period where God has put a comma.”
In the truthful darkness of her death, Gracie created these words to give her grieving husband light, and somehow, someway those words have come to us, as a reminder that God is still speaking.
Context is everything.
Words of hope written to people having fun at a festival are one thing; words of hope written to faint-hearted folk at a funeral are another.
Much of the Bible was written during funeral times, to address funeral issues. The children of Israel had faced death so many times: the barrenness of Abraham and Sarah; the Israelites enslavement in Egypt.
Yet, like trees planted by the river, they did not wither completely. Though it was not always easy they found ways to bear fruit and to grow, even when death was present.
Context is everything. To appreciate today’s reading it’s good to know when it was written. Modern scholars believe the book of Isaiah was written by 3 people.
The original author wrote to warn the people that war was in the air and they would experience impending doom if they didn’t change their ways. The prophet was right, Jerusalem was destroyed and the people were taken captive.
Chapters 40-55 were said to be written by a different author after the prophecy had come true. They were words directed to the captive people who had watched their entire city destroyed and all their hopes and dreams stripped away.
God speaks to the people to assure them that eventually this too will pass, and one day…one day their families will have the chance to return home and rebuild their city.
50 years pass before that promise is realized. By that time a generation has been born and died. Those who choose to return home expect life to go back to the way it once was. But instead their beloved city is still in ruins: the streets tore up, their houses gone, their fields full of weeds and their Temple completely burned to the ground.
It’s as if God has lied to them.
They attempt to rebuild their lives. It’s not easy. The local economy is shot, inflation is high, and everyone is so focused on themselves that no one has the time, energy or money to rebuild the Temple.
They have structurally and symbolically put God and the worship of God last, and then they wonder why God is no longer speaking or doing anything.
That’s where the words of today’s reading come in.
Modern scholars believe a third author wrote chapters 56-66. He is writing to people who had come out of a bad situation, thinking things were going to be better, only to discover they were just as bad if not worse.
Though their fields are fallow, God says “I am about to create something new.”
Though their infrastructure is completely destroyed, God says “I am about to build something amazing.”
Though their Temple is no more, and they have no place to praise God, God says “I will rejoice in you and find delight in my people.”
Though they were dragged out of their homes and forced to live as captives in another land, God says “You will benefit from your own handiwork and live in your own homes again.”
And though they had been ripped up by their roots and left to wither in enemy soil, God says “Like a tree planted by the river, you will not be moved and you will flourish.”
What do we make out of this? This would be like speaking such words to the people of the Philippines. This would be like speaking such words to the residents of New York on Sept 12, 2001.
Do we have here a God who lies? A God who is insane? A God who is unrealistic?
…What about a God who hopes? A God who still speaks? A God who is optimistic?
A God who created once before and can create again…and again…and again?
The people, the land, the buildings may all be in rubble, but God still speaks and says “I am about to create something new.”
Now there are different ways to take this passage. You could say the new creation God is speaking about is heaven, the heaven of pop culture; the place we go when we die that doesn’t exist until we take our last breath.
Or (as Tracy so eloquently spoke about last week) God could be speaking about a state of being in which everything and everyone is influenced by the reality of God.
This new heaven and earth that God is creating could be a state of mind and a reality we can actually experience now if we are willing to trust, we are willing to seek, and we are willing to play a part in.
Here, in this 2nd understanding, we are talking about the Kingdom of God, which is being created. A state of being in the presence of the Creator so completely that every act, every word, every deed is done with God as the focus.
I believe this it was the writer of Isaiah 65 is talking about; a way of being in which all people get to experience quality and creation: the sick are given the chance to be healed, hungry are given the chance to be fed and everyone has a place to call home.
I don’t believe God only wants us to focus on a new creation that will only exist when we die, but a new creation that can exist, that does exist as we live and breathe in the here and now.
After all, isn’t that part of what believing in the Resurrection is about?
We are children of the Resurrection. This mysterious event, this act of God that cannot be fully explained, that makes no sense to the rational mind, is the ultimate act of optimism that God is still speaking and ushering a new creation upon the world.
Because when Jesus died that should have been the end; God should have been silenced forever. But that was not the case, for God still was speaking and still had more words to say.
Out of death’s existing rubble, God ushered in the life of new creation…and it has been astounding.
And yes, it’s a new creation that has been at least 2,000 years in the process, but it is the one in which we are called to participate, ever living in the moment, believing in the future as opposed to being stuck in the past.
Through the resurrection God’s hope for the world has made itself blatantly known. And we don’t have to wait to die to see what that hope is; we can witness it now and participate in our own unique way.
That’s what the earliest followers of Christ did: they lived believing the Kingdom had already broken in: they shared resources, they fed the hungry, they reached out to the sick, they shared meals, called one another “sister” and “brother” and found joy in all that God, their Father, had done.
Sometimes we feel like we are on a perilous path. Sometimes we are in a state of destruction. Sometimes we are in the need to rebuild.
But if we recall the stories of our spiritual ancestors, if we recall that God brought life to a childless couple, God brought freedom to lowly slaves, and that God promised a new creation to exiles living amongst rubble, then we too can become like trees beside the river.
Trees with strong roots, trees bearing much fruit, trees enjoying the eternal life that comes from being watered by Christ.
God is still speaking. And if God is still speaking, then God is still acting. And if God is still acting, then there is still hope.
As people of the comma, as people of the resurrection, there is always hope.
Amen and amen.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Sermon for Nov 3, 2013; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-12
Rev. George Miller
2 Thessalonians 1:1-12
“Growing Abundantly”
Nov 3, 2013
In preparing for this message, I noticed the image Ruthie used for today’s bulletin: a large tree in full bloom with branches stretched out.
It reminds me of some trees I’ve seen in Sebring; trees that have brought much needed shade and withstood hurricanes and times of drought; trees that some people love while others despise because their roots have disturbed the earth around it and the worry over what would happen if it was to fall down.
Life is often affected by how we perceive things and how that perception affects the ways in which we act or don’t act.
Example: last week during our Trunk or Treat we ran out of candy to pass out to the children of the neighborhood. Is it because we were under prepared? No- it’s because we had 4 times the amount of people as compared to last year.
Running out of candy was a good thing: it meant that people know who we are and that we are here.
In today’s bulletin you’ll see that the need for pies, baked goods, and cheese balls is great. Is it because we don’t have enough people signed up to make them?
No- it’s because we have that many people from the local community who will be coming here next week for our Harvest Home Festival because everyone has worked so hard over the years to develop the reputation that we have.
It reminds me of a story I recently read. Ronnie McBrayer, a pastor, was recounting how he and his youngest son were sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons.
Ronnie was laughing along with the animated hi-jinks when his son reached up his small hands and rubbed the skin around Ronnie’s eyes and temples, burrowing his fingers in his ever deepening crow’s feet.
“What are those?” his son asked.
Ronnie stopped laughing immediately. Despairingly, he said “Those are wrinkles.”
A few days later, father and son were in the family SUV when out of nowhere the son was rubbing his temples and said “Dad, I don’t have any sprinkles.”
“Why do I have sprinkles?” Ronnie asked, mindful of his aching joints, expanding love handles, graying beard and wrinkled face.
“Because,” replied his son, “You need sprinkles to help you smile.”
Dad saw his wrinkles as a sign that he was getting older. Son saw the very same wrinkles as a sign that Dad was happy.
Sometimes, when we worry about our roots or our wrinkles, we need someone else to say “No, you are strong and you are beautiful.”
In a roundabout way, we see this in today’s scripture. The author is writing to a congregation during a very difficult period.
Not difficult as in “Are we able to meet the budget” or “Who can we find to chair the committee” but difficult as in people are being persecuted, afflicted, arrested and even murdered.
It’s enough to cut one off at the roots and to lead one to say “Let’s close our doors forever.”
But instead of seeing their wrinkles or crow’s feet, the author focuses them on their sprinkles- the fact that they are not only growing, but they are growing abundantly.
Not just the fact that they welcome one another, but they love each other in such a true, honest way that everyone around them can tell and see how much they are growing.
Even in the midst of persecution, even in the midst of afflictions they are enduring, they are doing the work which God has placed before them and the glory of Jesus is radiating out of them.
Because of what they are going through, they can only see the wrinkles; but the author is reaching out and saying “No- not wrinkles, but sprinkles.”
The question to ask is “How? Just how are they doing this?”
The answer, I believe, is that the members of the Thessalonian church were able to keep their focus on Christ. In the midst of naysayers and great suffering, they found a way to place it all before Jesus.
We see that in 1 Thessalonians Paul taught them not to exploit one another. They were taught how to live humbly, quietly, without getting involved in gossip or to sit idly by; to do what they can and to respect the work of others
They were taught to live with hope, hope that came from believing in the resurrection. Hope that said even when all seemed lost, God was still active.
They were also taught to see themselves as they actually were: not children of darkness, but as beloved children of light, children of the day who were destined for salvation.
And because they put Christ first, because they humbly lived, because they humbly served, because they humbly hoped, they were able to experience a sense of peace.
And it wasn’t just them who flourished and benefited from their faith in Jesus- it was those around them. They were able to encourage the faint of heart and help the weak of body, all with great patience, all with grace and happiness.
So even as the world around them was falling apart in affliction and persecution, they found a way to love one another even more; they found a way to grow, and to grow abundantly…
…The world can be a difficult, dangerous place. It can also be a place of wonder and adventure. Sometimes it depends on how we choose to view things.
Do we see wrinkles that mean we are old or do we see sprinkles that mean we laugh?
Do we see a giant tree that fills up an entire lawn, fearful of what may happen if it falls down?
Or do we see large, outstretched branches that bear fruit for the hungry, which create shade for the tired, shelter for the scared, a place of climbing for those who seek fun; a place for all the birds of the air to rest and share their song?
Life is affected by how we see things, and how we see affects our actions. How is God calling us to see and to act so that the Lord Jesus continues to be glorified in us?
How do we continue to increase our love for one another and grow in a way that celebrates not only who we are, but whose we are?
May Christ Jesus continue to light the way, may the fruits of the Holy Spirit continue to bless us and may God continue to surround us with glory that brings about sprinkles to our face.
Amen and amen.
2 Thessalonians 1:1-12
“Growing Abundantly”
Nov 3, 2013
In preparing for this message, I noticed the image Ruthie used for today’s bulletin: a large tree in full bloom with branches stretched out.
It reminds me of some trees I’ve seen in Sebring; trees that have brought much needed shade and withstood hurricanes and times of drought; trees that some people love while others despise because their roots have disturbed the earth around it and the worry over what would happen if it was to fall down.
Life is often affected by how we perceive things and how that perception affects the ways in which we act or don’t act.
Example: last week during our Trunk or Treat we ran out of candy to pass out to the children of the neighborhood. Is it because we were under prepared? No- it’s because we had 4 times the amount of people as compared to last year.
Running out of candy was a good thing: it meant that people know who we are and that we are here.
In today’s bulletin you’ll see that the need for pies, baked goods, and cheese balls is great. Is it because we don’t have enough people signed up to make them?
No- it’s because we have that many people from the local community who will be coming here next week for our Harvest Home Festival because everyone has worked so hard over the years to develop the reputation that we have.
It reminds me of a story I recently read. Ronnie McBrayer, a pastor, was recounting how he and his youngest son were sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons.
Ronnie was laughing along with the animated hi-jinks when his son reached up his small hands and rubbed the skin around Ronnie’s eyes and temples, burrowing his fingers in his ever deepening crow’s feet.
“What are those?” his son asked.
Ronnie stopped laughing immediately. Despairingly, he said “Those are wrinkles.”
A few days later, father and son were in the family SUV when out of nowhere the son was rubbing his temples and said “Dad, I don’t have any sprinkles.”
“Why do I have sprinkles?” Ronnie asked, mindful of his aching joints, expanding love handles, graying beard and wrinkled face.
“Because,” replied his son, “You need sprinkles to help you smile.”
Dad saw his wrinkles as a sign that he was getting older. Son saw the very same wrinkles as a sign that Dad was happy.
Sometimes, when we worry about our roots or our wrinkles, we need someone else to say “No, you are strong and you are beautiful.”
In a roundabout way, we see this in today’s scripture. The author is writing to a congregation during a very difficult period.
Not difficult as in “Are we able to meet the budget” or “Who can we find to chair the committee” but difficult as in people are being persecuted, afflicted, arrested and even murdered.
It’s enough to cut one off at the roots and to lead one to say “Let’s close our doors forever.”
But instead of seeing their wrinkles or crow’s feet, the author focuses them on their sprinkles- the fact that they are not only growing, but they are growing abundantly.
Not just the fact that they welcome one another, but they love each other in such a true, honest way that everyone around them can tell and see how much they are growing.
Even in the midst of persecution, even in the midst of afflictions they are enduring, they are doing the work which God has placed before them and the glory of Jesus is radiating out of them.
Because of what they are going through, they can only see the wrinkles; but the author is reaching out and saying “No- not wrinkles, but sprinkles.”
The question to ask is “How? Just how are they doing this?”
The answer, I believe, is that the members of the Thessalonian church were able to keep their focus on Christ. In the midst of naysayers and great suffering, they found a way to place it all before Jesus.
We see that in 1 Thessalonians Paul taught them not to exploit one another. They were taught how to live humbly, quietly, without getting involved in gossip or to sit idly by; to do what they can and to respect the work of others
They were taught to live with hope, hope that came from believing in the resurrection. Hope that said even when all seemed lost, God was still active.
They were also taught to see themselves as they actually were: not children of darkness, but as beloved children of light, children of the day who were destined for salvation.
And because they put Christ first, because they humbly lived, because they humbly served, because they humbly hoped, they were able to experience a sense of peace.
And it wasn’t just them who flourished and benefited from their faith in Jesus- it was those around them. They were able to encourage the faint of heart and help the weak of body, all with great patience, all with grace and happiness.
So even as the world around them was falling apart in affliction and persecution, they found a way to love one another even more; they found a way to grow, and to grow abundantly…
…The world can be a difficult, dangerous place. It can also be a place of wonder and adventure. Sometimes it depends on how we choose to view things.
Do we see wrinkles that mean we are old or do we see sprinkles that mean we laugh?
Do we see a giant tree that fills up an entire lawn, fearful of what may happen if it falls down?
Or do we see large, outstretched branches that bear fruit for the hungry, which create shade for the tired, shelter for the scared, a place of climbing for those who seek fun; a place for all the birds of the air to rest and share their song?
Life is affected by how we see things, and how we see affects our actions. How is God calling us to see and to act so that the Lord Jesus continues to be glorified in us?
How do we continue to increase our love for one another and grow in a way that celebrates not only who we are, but whose we are?
May Christ Jesus continue to light the way, may the fruits of the Holy Spirit continue to bless us and may God continue to surround us with glory that brings about sprinkles to our face.
Amen and amen.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Sermon for Oct 27, 2013; Reformation Sunday; Luke 18:9-14
Rev. George Miller
Luke 18:9-14
“God of Mercy”
Oct 27, 2013
A woman goes to the post office to buy stamps for her holiday cards. She says to the clerk, "May I have 50 Christmas stamps?"
The clerk says, "What denomination?"
The woman says, "Lord have mercy! Has it come to this? Give me 15 Methodist, 13 Baptist, 9 Lutheran, 7 Catholic and 6 UCC."
Today’s joke is brought to you on behalf of the fact that today we are celebrating Reformation Sunday. We heard Mel speak about Reformation. One of the things that struck me was the radicalness of what Martin Luther had done: a brave set of thoughts and actions that broke against the popular, prevalent powers of the time.
A radicalness that in its very essence was about developing a closer relationship with God and it was about the freedom to do so: the ability to pray, worship, read scripture and, as Mel wrote me, to “rely on being justified by grace through faith.”
Martin Luther spoke up to say that people had the right to personally experience God and to experience God’s mercy and grace.
Much like today’s reading.
Since chapter 17 Jesus has been on his journey to Jerusalem. He is on a journey to his death and he’s not making things easy for himself.
He’s reaching out to people with dreaded diseases. He’s healing foreigners. He’s welcoming children. He tells a wealthy man to sell all his possessions. He shows compassion to a beggar on the street.
That may be good for those poor, unfortunate souls, but it’s causing discomfort with the status quo.
To make matters worse, Jesus starts telling stories about the Kingdom of God; about this holy state of being in which the powerless prevail and the powerful are cast in questioning light.
These stories, called parables, are not cute or simple. They are meant to be wrestled with and to leave the listener limping and with a mind teased into active thought.
Today’s parable features three characters; the first a Pharisee. He would be akin to the elder of an established church. Someone who gave their time, talents and money; someone who was on council, who helped to preserve the faith and ensure there was a place for folk to worship.
The second character is a tax collector. Back then Jerusalem was under the foreign rule of Rome, their enemy. They hired local residents to collect their taxes, a form of economic oppression that kept the Jews in place and the Roman government strong.
To be a tax collector meant one was a puppet for the enemy; a traitor to the people and a traitor to God, worthy of hate and scorn; worthy of rejection from the Lord.
In this parable, Jesus lures the hearers into what they assume is a straight forward story. The church leader stands in the holy space and gives a soliloquy thanking God that he is not like those despised and dejected and reminds God of all the good that he does.
The tax collector is so weighted down by his sin that he can’t even muster the courage to approach the sacred space or lift his eyes. Instead he beats his chest and says a few scant words “Be merciful to me, a sinner.”
Yet, as Jesus tells us, it is not the Pharisee who goes home justified, it is the taxman.
How can this be? One man gives his time and money so others can faithfully worship, the other spends his time taking away their money so Rome can rule.
How can this be? Because there is the third character in this story; the one we have not yet talked about: God.
Because this story isn’t just about a Pharisee or a tax collector, it’s about the Holy One.
It’s about how God’s ways are not always the ways of the world; it’s about how God enters into our lives and finds ways to bring vindication and transformation.
This parable is designed to be wrestled with and to tease our mind into active thought and to ask ourselves once more “Who is this God we believe in?”
In fact, Jesus’ life and ministry becomes a living parable that forces us to wrestle and to tease our mind into asking “Who is God?”
And although the answer to that question is not so simple, we can start to formulate an idea by reading through Luke 17 and 18.
Who is God?
God is the One who cares about justice, who cares for the diseased, the foreigner, the child, the widow, and even our enemy.
Who is God?
As Psalm 51 will tell you, God is the One who has mercy in abundance; who acts according to steadfast love.
Who is God?
The One who knows our trespasses; who sees the sins we have done.
Who is God?
The One who will turn from our transgressions and blot out all of our inequities.
Who is God?
The One who has mercy in abundance for us; so much so that God is ready to usher in a new state of being if we simply admit we are weak, admit we have wrongs, admit we could be better, admit we can’t do it alone.
Who is God?
The One who finds the lost and lonely, who heals broken souls with love, who frees the prisoner from all chains.
Who is God?
God is the One who is free. So free that God came to us in the form of a child, walked with us in Galilee, died for us on Golgotha and rose three days later.
Who is God?
The One who is so free that each and every one of us can be loved into that freedom; a freedom which allows us to flourish, a freedom which allows us to live, a freedom which allows us to persevere.
A freedom which allows us to return home, no matter how muddied our clothes are so that we can have a clean heart; so we can have a new and right spirit within.
Who is God?
The One who is so free that no Temple, no church building, no church doctrine, no Pope, no priest, no pastor, nor no cross or tomb can control God.
A freedom which says we are exalted and we are free to worship, we are free to pray, and we are free to rely on being justified by grace.
No matter what denomination we are a part of; no matter who we are or how much we have wrestled with God.
For that we are humbled; for that the faithful can say “Hallelujah!” For that all God’s people can say “Amen.”
Luke 18:9-14
“God of Mercy”
Oct 27, 2013
A woman goes to the post office to buy stamps for her holiday cards. She says to the clerk, "May I have 50 Christmas stamps?"
The clerk says, "What denomination?"
The woman says, "Lord have mercy! Has it come to this? Give me 15 Methodist, 13 Baptist, 9 Lutheran, 7 Catholic and 6 UCC."
Today’s joke is brought to you on behalf of the fact that today we are celebrating Reformation Sunday. We heard Mel speak about Reformation. One of the things that struck me was the radicalness of what Martin Luther had done: a brave set of thoughts and actions that broke against the popular, prevalent powers of the time.
A radicalness that in its very essence was about developing a closer relationship with God and it was about the freedom to do so: the ability to pray, worship, read scripture and, as Mel wrote me, to “rely on being justified by grace through faith.”
Martin Luther spoke up to say that people had the right to personally experience God and to experience God’s mercy and grace.
Much like today’s reading.
Since chapter 17 Jesus has been on his journey to Jerusalem. He is on a journey to his death and he’s not making things easy for himself.
He’s reaching out to people with dreaded diseases. He’s healing foreigners. He’s welcoming children. He tells a wealthy man to sell all his possessions. He shows compassion to a beggar on the street.
That may be good for those poor, unfortunate souls, but it’s causing discomfort with the status quo.
To make matters worse, Jesus starts telling stories about the Kingdom of God; about this holy state of being in which the powerless prevail and the powerful are cast in questioning light.
These stories, called parables, are not cute or simple. They are meant to be wrestled with and to leave the listener limping and with a mind teased into active thought.
Today’s parable features three characters; the first a Pharisee. He would be akin to the elder of an established church. Someone who gave their time, talents and money; someone who was on council, who helped to preserve the faith and ensure there was a place for folk to worship.
The second character is a tax collector. Back then Jerusalem was under the foreign rule of Rome, their enemy. They hired local residents to collect their taxes, a form of economic oppression that kept the Jews in place and the Roman government strong.
To be a tax collector meant one was a puppet for the enemy; a traitor to the people and a traitor to God, worthy of hate and scorn; worthy of rejection from the Lord.
In this parable, Jesus lures the hearers into what they assume is a straight forward story. The church leader stands in the holy space and gives a soliloquy thanking God that he is not like those despised and dejected and reminds God of all the good that he does.
The tax collector is so weighted down by his sin that he can’t even muster the courage to approach the sacred space or lift his eyes. Instead he beats his chest and says a few scant words “Be merciful to me, a sinner.”
Yet, as Jesus tells us, it is not the Pharisee who goes home justified, it is the taxman.
How can this be? One man gives his time and money so others can faithfully worship, the other spends his time taking away their money so Rome can rule.
How can this be? Because there is the third character in this story; the one we have not yet talked about: God.
Because this story isn’t just about a Pharisee or a tax collector, it’s about the Holy One.
It’s about how God’s ways are not always the ways of the world; it’s about how God enters into our lives and finds ways to bring vindication and transformation.
This parable is designed to be wrestled with and to tease our mind into active thought and to ask ourselves once more “Who is this God we believe in?”
In fact, Jesus’ life and ministry becomes a living parable that forces us to wrestle and to tease our mind into asking “Who is God?”
And although the answer to that question is not so simple, we can start to formulate an idea by reading through Luke 17 and 18.
Who is God?
God is the One who cares about justice, who cares for the diseased, the foreigner, the child, the widow, and even our enemy.
Who is God?
As Psalm 51 will tell you, God is the One who has mercy in abundance; who acts according to steadfast love.
Who is God?
The One who knows our trespasses; who sees the sins we have done.
Who is God?
The One who will turn from our transgressions and blot out all of our inequities.
Who is God?
The One who has mercy in abundance for us; so much so that God is ready to usher in a new state of being if we simply admit we are weak, admit we have wrongs, admit we could be better, admit we can’t do it alone.
Who is God?
The One who finds the lost and lonely, who heals broken souls with love, who frees the prisoner from all chains.
Who is God?
God is the One who is free. So free that God came to us in the form of a child, walked with us in Galilee, died for us on Golgotha and rose three days later.
Who is God?
The One who is so free that each and every one of us can be loved into that freedom; a freedom which allows us to flourish, a freedom which allows us to live, a freedom which allows us to persevere.
A freedom which allows us to return home, no matter how muddied our clothes are so that we can have a clean heart; so we can have a new and right spirit within.
Who is God?
The One who is so free that no Temple, no church building, no church doctrine, no Pope, no priest, no pastor, nor no cross or tomb can control God.
A freedom which says we are exalted and we are free to worship, we are free to pray, and we are free to rely on being justified by grace.
No matter what denomination we are a part of; no matter who we are or how much we have wrestled with God.
For that we are humbled; for that the faithful can say “Hallelujah!” For that all God’s people can say “Amen.”
Friday, October 18, 2013
Sermon for Oct 20, 2013; Genesis 32:22-31
Rev. George Miller
Genesis 32:22-31
“Thy Will and My Will Be Done”
Oct 20, 2013
Every Sunday we start service the same way, but I wonder if perhaps we should be saying “No matter who you are, or where you are on life’s journey OR how much you wrestle with God, you are welcome here!”
Today we are going to explore what I consider to be the most important scripture for anyone of the Jewish or Christian faith to know about.
For me, it is a summation of what faith means, what it looks like, what it feels like, and what I, as a UCC pastor, strive to teach: that faith is something we wrestle with and that in faith there are no easy answers.
BUT, faith will leave us forever changed and forever blessed, even if we are left with a slight limp.
The story thus far: God made a promise to Abraham that his family will be the means through which God will bless all the families of the world. Abraham has a son named Isaac. Isaac has twin boys.
The first born is Esau, who is ruddy, hairy and likes to hunt. He is his father’s favorite.
The second born is Jacob who is smooth skinned, likes to stay indoors and cook. He is the one Momma likes best.
As they grow older Jacob becomes quite the trickster. He fools his brother out of his birthright and deceives his father into giving him the family blessing.
As you can imagine, this angers Esau so much that he vows to kill Jacob. Jacob runs away and lives with his uncle’s family.
But eventually Jacob realizes one cannot run away from their problems forever. Now that he is older, wiser and a successful rancher with wives, children, servants and money to spare, Jacob makes the journey back home.
The day before he is to arrive and meet either the wrath of Esau or his forgiveness, Jacob makes the decision to send everyone and everything ahead of him to safety.
Across the stream they go, and Jacob, the former mamma’s boy, who liked to stay inside and make stew, has the most interesting encounter: a man wrestles with him.
All night they are in grips with one another, neither one prevailing or letting go. The mysterious man strikes Jacob’s hip; though out of joint, the mamma’s boy holds on.
“Let me go,” the man states; Jacob refuses.
“What is your name,” the man asks.
“Jacob.”
“That is no longer your name, you will be called Israel because you have striven with God and have held your own.”
The sun rises; Jacob calls the place Peniel, meaning “I have seen God face to face and prevailed,” and he limps away.
This is a story in which its lack of clarity makes it open to so much interpretation and so much debate. It is a story that provides no easy answer or even attempts to.
Scholars and theologians and pastors and psychologists will try to tell you their own take on this.
People will try to take everything they think they know about God and the Bible and their faith and place it onto this story, but no matter what, nothing ever quite fits.
Was the man God, an angel, or as some suggest a river demon or a figment of Jacob’s own anxious psyche?
If the man is God, is it possible that Jacob could have defeated him? Could there have been a draw?
Or was God capable of winning the wrestling match at any time and was just playing with Jacob like a cat with a rat?
Isn’t there scripture that tells us no one can see the face of God and live, and yet Jacob makes the claim that he just did?
And what about this business of Jacob being renamed Israel, meaning that one has striven with, struggled with, wrestled with God?
Why can’t Israel mean one who has danced with God, or laughed with God or had tea with God?
Wouldn’t that be so much nicer; wouldn’t that be so much quainter?
Well, the truth of the matter is that faith isn’t always about being nice; it’s not always about being quaint.
It’s about the encounters we have with God and sometimes, well sometimes things can get a little rough.
Regardless of how one chooses to view this scripture; regardless how one chooses to approach it, one thing I feel for certain about it is that it’s about our relationality with God.
It’s about how God chooses to have a personal experience with us and that when we have a true encounter with God, we cannot help but to leave changed in some way.
…I love this scripture. Every time I read it, I discover something new, something dependent about where I am in life and my own life experience.
When we were planning this week’s worship I had just come back from visiting my sister in California. I had a wonderful time there, being by the ocean with my niece and nephew.
There was one day I went for a walk, surrounded by mountains, hearing the sound of the surf, and I had my own little revelation: for the first 29 years of my life I ran away from God, trying to do things my way; the results were not always spectacular.
Then for the next 14 years I tried my best to follow God’s voice and do things God’s way.
The results have been much more pleasing and successful, but at times I’ve been left wondering “What the heck?” or missing family and friends.
That’s when it occurred to me: wouldn’t it be nice if I could have it both ways?
Wouldn’t it be nice if God and I could find a way to compromise so that I wasn’t always running away or always being pulled far away from people I cared about?
Couldn’t there be a happy medium in which we both get what we want?
I shared this thought with my mentor, Rev. Andy Conyer, who told me to start praying this: “Thy will and my will be done.”
I did, and it’s interesting to see how over the last three months there has been a resurgence of people from my past coming back into my life while I’ve also become more and more a part of the community here.
It’s as if both my and Thy will have been coming together.
Then I came across today’s reading; something I’ve read so many times before. But I noticed something I had not noticed before.
Verse 26, the man (or in my interpretation, God) tells Jacob “Let me go.” To which Jacob responds “I will not, unless you bless me.”
There it was; that sense of compromise; that sense of my will and thy will coming together.
God wants Jacob to do something; Jacob wants God to do something; neither one proceeds until a divine action takes place that furthers their relationship.
Jacob leaves with a new name, blessed and prepared to face his brother and God is ensured that the sacred plan put in place through Abraham will still take place.
But note: we are never told who let go of whom and notice that Jacob now has a limp, forever changed by his experience with God.
Why do I believe this is such a vital scripture for everyone to know?
Because it gives no easy answers, because it makes us have to think. And it shows us an aspect of the divine holy that we rarely talk or think about.
There are so many views of God out there. There are those who think that God does not exist or that God is dead or disinterested in us, distant and far removed.
Then there are others on the opposite side of the spectrum who believe that God is in control of everything. All knowing, all powerful, all up in everything we do.
If something happens it’s because of God, if something doesn’t happen it’s because of God.
Doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, happy or sad, if it took place, God did it.
And there are those who when something disappointing or discouraging happens say “Well, I guess it wasn’t in God’s will.”
Or they become passive players in their own life, believing if it’s supposed to happen it will, so why even ask or dream or try.
But this, this scripture challenges those notions; this scripture opens everything up.
This scripture dares to present God in a way that is very hands on, very active and very much a participant in an event who can win or who can lose.
This is a scripture that says faith is a wrestling match in which we go toe to toe with God and we get to play a part, we get to have a say, we get to hold on and sweat and ask.
This is a scripture that says faith does not always come with easy answers and that not all encounters with God end with us happily skipping away…that we may very well leave with a limp.
Thy will or my will be done? Why can’t it be both?
I believe when it comes to our faith, when it comes to our faith journey, it is important for us to be able to listen to and discern the will of God.
But I also believe that it is also Ok for us to question God, to challenge God and to wrestle with God.
Moses had no problem with this when he stood before the burning bush and God called him into ministry and Moses tried to come up with 100 excuses as to why not.
Isaiah 64 had no problem with this when he called upon God to tear apart the heavens, come down and make the mountains quake as God had done in the past.
Jesus himself had no problem wrestling with God. In Matthew 26 we see Jesus, like Jacob, alone, in the garden, begging God to take the cup from him.
Not once, not twice, but three times Jesus, while in the Garden of Gethsemane, requests this: “Let this cup pass from me, yet not what I want but what you want.”
Friends, our faith is not always rooted in our success or our shrewdness, but in our ability to encounter God, to wrestle, to ask for what we want, to refuse to let go, even if it means we might limp a bit, even if it means we are at a draw.
Faith is not about leaving all our doubts behind or always being gently led with tender care.
Faith is about having a personal encounter with God in which both the mystery and reality meet, in which the holy and the everyday collide, in which both God and ourselves are left transformed by the matter.
And often times when transformation takes place, we do get to see another day and blessings are bound to follow.
Amen and amen.
Genesis 32:22-31
“Thy Will and My Will Be Done”
Oct 20, 2013
Every Sunday we start service the same way, but I wonder if perhaps we should be saying “No matter who you are, or where you are on life’s journey OR how much you wrestle with God, you are welcome here!”
Today we are going to explore what I consider to be the most important scripture for anyone of the Jewish or Christian faith to know about.
For me, it is a summation of what faith means, what it looks like, what it feels like, and what I, as a UCC pastor, strive to teach: that faith is something we wrestle with and that in faith there are no easy answers.
BUT, faith will leave us forever changed and forever blessed, even if we are left with a slight limp.
The story thus far: God made a promise to Abraham that his family will be the means through which God will bless all the families of the world. Abraham has a son named Isaac. Isaac has twin boys.
The first born is Esau, who is ruddy, hairy and likes to hunt. He is his father’s favorite.
The second born is Jacob who is smooth skinned, likes to stay indoors and cook. He is the one Momma likes best.
As they grow older Jacob becomes quite the trickster. He fools his brother out of his birthright and deceives his father into giving him the family blessing.
As you can imagine, this angers Esau so much that he vows to kill Jacob. Jacob runs away and lives with his uncle’s family.
But eventually Jacob realizes one cannot run away from their problems forever. Now that he is older, wiser and a successful rancher with wives, children, servants and money to spare, Jacob makes the journey back home.
The day before he is to arrive and meet either the wrath of Esau or his forgiveness, Jacob makes the decision to send everyone and everything ahead of him to safety.
Across the stream they go, and Jacob, the former mamma’s boy, who liked to stay inside and make stew, has the most interesting encounter: a man wrestles with him.
All night they are in grips with one another, neither one prevailing or letting go. The mysterious man strikes Jacob’s hip; though out of joint, the mamma’s boy holds on.
“Let me go,” the man states; Jacob refuses.
“What is your name,” the man asks.
“Jacob.”
“That is no longer your name, you will be called Israel because you have striven with God and have held your own.”
The sun rises; Jacob calls the place Peniel, meaning “I have seen God face to face and prevailed,” and he limps away.
This is a story in which its lack of clarity makes it open to so much interpretation and so much debate. It is a story that provides no easy answer or even attempts to.
Scholars and theologians and pastors and psychologists will try to tell you their own take on this.
People will try to take everything they think they know about God and the Bible and their faith and place it onto this story, but no matter what, nothing ever quite fits.
Was the man God, an angel, or as some suggest a river demon or a figment of Jacob’s own anxious psyche?
If the man is God, is it possible that Jacob could have defeated him? Could there have been a draw?
Or was God capable of winning the wrestling match at any time and was just playing with Jacob like a cat with a rat?
Isn’t there scripture that tells us no one can see the face of God and live, and yet Jacob makes the claim that he just did?
And what about this business of Jacob being renamed Israel, meaning that one has striven with, struggled with, wrestled with God?
Why can’t Israel mean one who has danced with God, or laughed with God or had tea with God?
Wouldn’t that be so much nicer; wouldn’t that be so much quainter?
Well, the truth of the matter is that faith isn’t always about being nice; it’s not always about being quaint.
It’s about the encounters we have with God and sometimes, well sometimes things can get a little rough.
Regardless of how one chooses to view this scripture; regardless how one chooses to approach it, one thing I feel for certain about it is that it’s about our relationality with God.
It’s about how God chooses to have a personal experience with us and that when we have a true encounter with God, we cannot help but to leave changed in some way.
…I love this scripture. Every time I read it, I discover something new, something dependent about where I am in life and my own life experience.
When we were planning this week’s worship I had just come back from visiting my sister in California. I had a wonderful time there, being by the ocean with my niece and nephew.
There was one day I went for a walk, surrounded by mountains, hearing the sound of the surf, and I had my own little revelation: for the first 29 years of my life I ran away from God, trying to do things my way; the results were not always spectacular.
Then for the next 14 years I tried my best to follow God’s voice and do things God’s way.
The results have been much more pleasing and successful, but at times I’ve been left wondering “What the heck?” or missing family and friends.
That’s when it occurred to me: wouldn’t it be nice if I could have it both ways?
Wouldn’t it be nice if God and I could find a way to compromise so that I wasn’t always running away or always being pulled far away from people I cared about?
Couldn’t there be a happy medium in which we both get what we want?
I shared this thought with my mentor, Rev. Andy Conyer, who told me to start praying this: “Thy will and my will be done.”
I did, and it’s interesting to see how over the last three months there has been a resurgence of people from my past coming back into my life while I’ve also become more and more a part of the community here.
It’s as if both my and Thy will have been coming together.
Then I came across today’s reading; something I’ve read so many times before. But I noticed something I had not noticed before.
Verse 26, the man (or in my interpretation, God) tells Jacob “Let me go.” To which Jacob responds “I will not, unless you bless me.”
There it was; that sense of compromise; that sense of my will and thy will coming together.
God wants Jacob to do something; Jacob wants God to do something; neither one proceeds until a divine action takes place that furthers their relationship.
Jacob leaves with a new name, blessed and prepared to face his brother and God is ensured that the sacred plan put in place through Abraham will still take place.
But note: we are never told who let go of whom and notice that Jacob now has a limp, forever changed by his experience with God.
Why do I believe this is such a vital scripture for everyone to know?
Because it gives no easy answers, because it makes us have to think. And it shows us an aspect of the divine holy that we rarely talk or think about.
There are so many views of God out there. There are those who think that God does not exist or that God is dead or disinterested in us, distant and far removed.
Then there are others on the opposite side of the spectrum who believe that God is in control of everything. All knowing, all powerful, all up in everything we do.
If something happens it’s because of God, if something doesn’t happen it’s because of God.
Doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, happy or sad, if it took place, God did it.
And there are those who when something disappointing or discouraging happens say “Well, I guess it wasn’t in God’s will.”
Or they become passive players in their own life, believing if it’s supposed to happen it will, so why even ask or dream or try.
But this, this scripture challenges those notions; this scripture opens everything up.
This scripture dares to present God in a way that is very hands on, very active and very much a participant in an event who can win or who can lose.
This is a scripture that says faith is a wrestling match in which we go toe to toe with God and we get to play a part, we get to have a say, we get to hold on and sweat and ask.
This is a scripture that says faith does not always come with easy answers and that not all encounters with God end with us happily skipping away…that we may very well leave with a limp.
Thy will or my will be done? Why can’t it be both?
I believe when it comes to our faith, when it comes to our faith journey, it is important for us to be able to listen to and discern the will of God.
But I also believe that it is also Ok for us to question God, to challenge God and to wrestle with God.
Moses had no problem with this when he stood before the burning bush and God called him into ministry and Moses tried to come up with 100 excuses as to why not.
Isaiah 64 had no problem with this when he called upon God to tear apart the heavens, come down and make the mountains quake as God had done in the past.
Jesus himself had no problem wrestling with God. In Matthew 26 we see Jesus, like Jacob, alone, in the garden, begging God to take the cup from him.
Not once, not twice, but three times Jesus, while in the Garden of Gethsemane, requests this: “Let this cup pass from me, yet not what I want but what you want.”
Friends, our faith is not always rooted in our success or our shrewdness, but in our ability to encounter God, to wrestle, to ask for what we want, to refuse to let go, even if it means we might limp a bit, even if it means we are at a draw.
Faith is not about leaving all our doubts behind or always being gently led with tender care.
Faith is about having a personal encounter with God in which both the mystery and reality meet, in which the holy and the everyday collide, in which both God and ourselves are left transformed by the matter.
And often times when transformation takes place, we do get to see another day and blessings are bound to follow.
Amen and amen.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Sermon for Oct 13, 2013; Jeremiah 29:1-9
Rev. George Miller
Jeremiah 29:1-9
“Building the Future”
Oct 13, 2013
This week promises to be a busy one at Highlands Little Theater as we get ready for the ZENON Awards: the musical numbers to rehearse, tuxedoes to try on, and presentations to prepare.
I’ve enjoyed my past year at the theater and I thank you for the support you’ve shown me and for granting me the ability to interact with the local community in such a way.
There is something about theater: it’s a way to tell stories and share lessons about life. Why pay hundreds of dollars to attend a motivational seminar or read an entire “How to…” book when you can simply learn all there is to know in a song sung on stage?
There are plays that are simply fun, like My Fair Lady, there are plays that teach lessons, like 1776, then there are those that speak about the fire that flourishes in human life, like Fiddler on the Roof.
One such play is Zorba the Greek. I love its opening song, which totally sets the stage: a group of characters take turns trying to find a simple way to describe life.
“Life is like a glass of rum” one man says. “Life is a sip of sage,” says another. “Life is another dream” states a woman.
This goes on and on until a robust woman interrupts them: “I will tell you” she states.
Then she sings: “Life is what you do, while you’re waiting to die. Life is how the time goes by.”
When spoken (as I am doing now) the words sound straightforward and bleak, but the music is joyful and made to dance.
The singer continues “Life is where you grin and grieve…Learning that the tear drops anywhere you go; finding it’s the mud that makes the roses grow.”
This is an unflinching song about what it means to live: heartbreaks and bounty, hardships and bliss; the human spirit and its resiliency.
Resiliency is such a great word. In the material world it means an object’s ability to spring back into shape.
In the emotional world it means the ability to become strong, successful or healthy after a difficult and tough time.
If you read last Sunday’s newspaper, you would have noticed there were not one but at least three stories of resiliency.
Syrian children returning to school amid war, where simply being in the classroom room and counting to 10 has reminded them of what life was life was like before.
The young woman Malala who was shot in the face by the Taliban and lived to write about it and speak before the UN.
Our local columnist Joyce Minor shared her experience of living with breast cancer. She wrote about scheduling an appointment for reconstructive surgery. She shared her thoughts about how she originally didn’t want to do it.
She wanted no more incisions, no more pain meds, no more treks across state to the Cancer Center. “Why should I put myself through the surgery?” she asked herself.
The answer that came to her was this: “Because you are worth it. After all you’ve been through you deserve to feel whole again. You deserve to have a body you feel good about, not just okay about.”
Resilience: the ability to recover, the ability to spring back.
Since July we’ve been talking about the theology of flourishing. In some ways we’ve been rather cavalier about it. It is easy to discuss and celebrate flourishing when it is happening all around you.
But what happens when it’s not? What happens when life suddenly breaks apart? What happens when situations occur that seem to go beyond your control?
That’s what we have here in today’s reading.
The people of Israel have been living in the land for centuries now; the land that God had promised them and had led them to.
And it is a good land.
They have built houses for themselves. Vineyards with delicious grapes to make delicious wine. Cows that bear much milk, bees and flowers that create sweet honey. They have the Temple they can go to and worship God. Their future is assured…
…then in 597 BCE, the King of Babylon has his troops come in and attack the city. And they take with them what we would call in our modern vernacular, the top 1%.
In other words they take the king and queen, the court officials, the town leaders, business owners, as well as their priests and prophets and skilled laborers, such as blacksmiths.
The exiles are forced to travel 700 miles to Babylon where they are made to settle in the communities there, where their money, time and talents are used to benefit the enemy.
Imagine the emotional dilemma this creates. Jerusalem, the land that God promised to your people, it attacked. Either you are seen as “good enough” and kidnapped, or you are seen as “fair to middling” and left behind.
Those in exile don’t know what to do. Their spirits are destroyed; their will to live is next to nil.
Some of their leaders have gone into denial, claiming this is just a temporary thing and in two years time they’ll be back at home, sleeping in their own bed, back to enjoying a glass of wine and desserts made of milk and honey with their neighbor.
“No,” says Jeremiah, in this letter he writes to them. “No, that is never going to happen in your lifetime. You will never go home, you will never sleep in your own bed, and you will never farm your field again. It will be like this for the next 70 years.”
This is harsh news. But out of love, Jeremiah is telling them the truth. They need to hear it; they need to know the reality.
Why? So that they can live…
Jeremiah is conveying to them a message from God. Though this message sounds like it is too much to bear, it is not without an element of hope, because the message Jeremiah conveys on God’s behalf is this:
“Don’t give up and don’t stop building your future. Though this isn’t what you hoped for, you have to keep living. Build homes that are not just okay, but that you feel good about living in.”
“Build beautiful gardens and plant fruit and vegetables that are good to look at and sweet to taste, because your bodies deserve to feel whole and well fed.”
“Don’t stop believing in romance. Fall in love. Make babies. Raise children. When they get married, hold magnificent wedding feasts. When they have babies, bounce them on your knee.”
“Why? Because you are worth it. You are worthy to flourish and not just to survive. You are worthy of living a life that is good, not just okay.”
Resilience indeed.
And in what’s the most grace filled notion of all, God tells the people “Don’t seek revenge on your enemy. Don’t lash out at them, but pray for them. Pray for their welfare because when they flourish you will too.”
This- this is the amazing, radical message we are given today. This- this is a formula for flourishing that goes beyond being cavalier or celebrating only when the sun shines.
This is finding hope in hopelessness. This is about finding plenty in the midst of loss. This is about finding treasure even in the muck and the mud that is far too often the composition of human life.
This is what faith is about.
This is what resilience means. This is why again and again and again people turn to the sacred scripture and find what they need to get through another day.
For after all, what is faith, what are fair words, if the moment something breaks, the moment something fails, we fall apart?
What is faith if it’s only the good times that we sing praises to God and in bad times we force ourselves to be silent???
…What is faith if we fail to recognize that in some way, somehow, all of us have been in exile or are in exile in our own little way and that it’s the love of God and call to Christ that is getting us through?
All summer we have been exploring the elements of our sacred texts that were designed to inspire and create that resilience, to help us build the future.
The story of Joseph and his brothers, how they did everything they could to harm and silence him, how their actions led to his exile and enslavement, and how through it all God found a way to restore and to bless, and Joseph found a way to forgive and flourish.
The letters attributed to Paul while he was being persecuted for his beliefs. Those who challenged him, the ridicule he endured, the disagreements he went to toe to toe on, and yet he found a way to preach a message of grace and justification, forgiveness of sin and eternal life.
The ultimate example for us is the ministry of Jesus Christ. His open challenges to the powers that be, his questioning the way of society, his love for God above all else and his basic belief that everyone is good and worthy of redemptive love.
For that he was nailed to the cross in hopes his future would be forever finished. We of course know how that turned out.
The people in today’s reading never got to see their beloved Promised Land again. They never got to experience a resurrection of their own. But it did not stop them from living or enjoying life the best they could.
And against all odds, even without their fields, their homes, their Temple, they did not completely lose their faith in God or the stories about God’s people.
For they still continued to believe, they still continued to live; that is why we are where we are today, right here; right now.
Living life. Not settling for what is ok, but believing in God that we deserve what is good.
In return, we are reminded by Jeremiah’s letter written 2,600 years ago, that we are to hold onto the promise even when it seems to be broken.
To hold onto our beliefs even when current situations make them seem unbelievable.
To continue to live, even when life seems unlivable.
God encourages us. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, through Jesus Christ, we are called to create, to build, to fellowship and to dream.
To be resilient until all of our time goes by.
Amen and amen.
Jeremiah 29:1-9
“Building the Future”
Oct 13, 2013
This week promises to be a busy one at Highlands Little Theater as we get ready for the ZENON Awards: the musical numbers to rehearse, tuxedoes to try on, and presentations to prepare.
I’ve enjoyed my past year at the theater and I thank you for the support you’ve shown me and for granting me the ability to interact with the local community in such a way.
There is something about theater: it’s a way to tell stories and share lessons about life. Why pay hundreds of dollars to attend a motivational seminar or read an entire “How to…” book when you can simply learn all there is to know in a song sung on stage?
There are plays that are simply fun, like My Fair Lady, there are plays that teach lessons, like 1776, then there are those that speak about the fire that flourishes in human life, like Fiddler on the Roof.
One such play is Zorba the Greek. I love its opening song, which totally sets the stage: a group of characters take turns trying to find a simple way to describe life.
“Life is like a glass of rum” one man says. “Life is a sip of sage,” says another. “Life is another dream” states a woman.
This goes on and on until a robust woman interrupts them: “I will tell you” she states.
Then she sings: “Life is what you do, while you’re waiting to die. Life is how the time goes by.”
When spoken (as I am doing now) the words sound straightforward and bleak, but the music is joyful and made to dance.
The singer continues “Life is where you grin and grieve…Learning that the tear drops anywhere you go; finding it’s the mud that makes the roses grow.”
This is an unflinching song about what it means to live: heartbreaks and bounty, hardships and bliss; the human spirit and its resiliency.
Resiliency is such a great word. In the material world it means an object’s ability to spring back into shape.
In the emotional world it means the ability to become strong, successful or healthy after a difficult and tough time.
If you read last Sunday’s newspaper, you would have noticed there were not one but at least three stories of resiliency.
Syrian children returning to school amid war, where simply being in the classroom room and counting to 10 has reminded them of what life was life was like before.
The young woman Malala who was shot in the face by the Taliban and lived to write about it and speak before the UN.
Our local columnist Joyce Minor shared her experience of living with breast cancer. She wrote about scheduling an appointment for reconstructive surgery. She shared her thoughts about how she originally didn’t want to do it.
She wanted no more incisions, no more pain meds, no more treks across state to the Cancer Center. “Why should I put myself through the surgery?” she asked herself.
The answer that came to her was this: “Because you are worth it. After all you’ve been through you deserve to feel whole again. You deserve to have a body you feel good about, not just okay about.”
Resilience: the ability to recover, the ability to spring back.
Since July we’ve been talking about the theology of flourishing. In some ways we’ve been rather cavalier about it. It is easy to discuss and celebrate flourishing when it is happening all around you.
But what happens when it’s not? What happens when life suddenly breaks apart? What happens when situations occur that seem to go beyond your control?
That’s what we have here in today’s reading.
The people of Israel have been living in the land for centuries now; the land that God had promised them and had led them to.
And it is a good land.
They have built houses for themselves. Vineyards with delicious grapes to make delicious wine. Cows that bear much milk, bees and flowers that create sweet honey. They have the Temple they can go to and worship God. Their future is assured…
…then in 597 BCE, the King of Babylon has his troops come in and attack the city. And they take with them what we would call in our modern vernacular, the top 1%.
In other words they take the king and queen, the court officials, the town leaders, business owners, as well as their priests and prophets and skilled laborers, such as blacksmiths.
The exiles are forced to travel 700 miles to Babylon where they are made to settle in the communities there, where their money, time and talents are used to benefit the enemy.
Imagine the emotional dilemma this creates. Jerusalem, the land that God promised to your people, it attacked. Either you are seen as “good enough” and kidnapped, or you are seen as “fair to middling” and left behind.
Those in exile don’t know what to do. Their spirits are destroyed; their will to live is next to nil.
Some of their leaders have gone into denial, claiming this is just a temporary thing and in two years time they’ll be back at home, sleeping in their own bed, back to enjoying a glass of wine and desserts made of milk and honey with their neighbor.
“No,” says Jeremiah, in this letter he writes to them. “No, that is never going to happen in your lifetime. You will never go home, you will never sleep in your own bed, and you will never farm your field again. It will be like this for the next 70 years.”
This is harsh news. But out of love, Jeremiah is telling them the truth. They need to hear it; they need to know the reality.
Why? So that they can live…
Jeremiah is conveying to them a message from God. Though this message sounds like it is too much to bear, it is not without an element of hope, because the message Jeremiah conveys on God’s behalf is this:
“Don’t give up and don’t stop building your future. Though this isn’t what you hoped for, you have to keep living. Build homes that are not just okay, but that you feel good about living in.”
“Build beautiful gardens and plant fruit and vegetables that are good to look at and sweet to taste, because your bodies deserve to feel whole and well fed.”
“Don’t stop believing in romance. Fall in love. Make babies. Raise children. When they get married, hold magnificent wedding feasts. When they have babies, bounce them on your knee.”
“Why? Because you are worth it. You are worthy to flourish and not just to survive. You are worthy of living a life that is good, not just okay.”
Resilience indeed.
And in what’s the most grace filled notion of all, God tells the people “Don’t seek revenge on your enemy. Don’t lash out at them, but pray for them. Pray for their welfare because when they flourish you will too.”
This- this is the amazing, radical message we are given today. This- this is a formula for flourishing that goes beyond being cavalier or celebrating only when the sun shines.
This is finding hope in hopelessness. This is about finding plenty in the midst of loss. This is about finding treasure even in the muck and the mud that is far too often the composition of human life.
This is what faith is about.
This is what resilience means. This is why again and again and again people turn to the sacred scripture and find what they need to get through another day.
For after all, what is faith, what are fair words, if the moment something breaks, the moment something fails, we fall apart?
What is faith if it’s only the good times that we sing praises to God and in bad times we force ourselves to be silent???
…What is faith if we fail to recognize that in some way, somehow, all of us have been in exile or are in exile in our own little way and that it’s the love of God and call to Christ that is getting us through?
All summer we have been exploring the elements of our sacred texts that were designed to inspire and create that resilience, to help us build the future.
The story of Joseph and his brothers, how they did everything they could to harm and silence him, how their actions led to his exile and enslavement, and how through it all God found a way to restore and to bless, and Joseph found a way to forgive and flourish.
The letters attributed to Paul while he was being persecuted for his beliefs. Those who challenged him, the ridicule he endured, the disagreements he went to toe to toe on, and yet he found a way to preach a message of grace and justification, forgiveness of sin and eternal life.
The ultimate example for us is the ministry of Jesus Christ. His open challenges to the powers that be, his questioning the way of society, his love for God above all else and his basic belief that everyone is good and worthy of redemptive love.
For that he was nailed to the cross in hopes his future would be forever finished. We of course know how that turned out.
The people in today’s reading never got to see their beloved Promised Land again. They never got to experience a resurrection of their own. But it did not stop them from living or enjoying life the best they could.
And against all odds, even without their fields, their homes, their Temple, they did not completely lose their faith in God or the stories about God’s people.
For they still continued to believe, they still continued to live; that is why we are where we are today, right here; right now.
Living life. Not settling for what is ok, but believing in God that we deserve what is good.
In return, we are reminded by Jeremiah’s letter written 2,600 years ago, that we are to hold onto the promise even when it seems to be broken.
To hold onto our beliefs even when current situations make them seem unbelievable.
To continue to live, even when life seems unlivable.
God encourages us. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, through Jesus Christ, we are called to create, to build, to fellowship and to dream.
To be resilient until all of our time goes by.
Amen and amen.
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