Sermon for March 9, 2014

Rev. George Miller
Matthew 4:1-11
“Led by the Spirit; Attended by Angels”
March 9, 2014

Today we begin our Lenten sermon series by lifting up the fruit of the Spirit that we talked about last Sunday.

Each week we are encouraging you to pick one of the spiritual fruit and to practice it.

Today we spotlight self-control, gentleness and goodness.

But let’s be honest- who am I to talk about any of those things?

Self-control is not my forte- if I had any, I’d look more like John Hamm the actor rather than looking like I just ate a whole ham.

Gentleness; well I’ve inherited from my mother what my father called German-hands, which means nothing is handled gently.

As Dean can testify, woe to any office chair that my 270 pound frame sits upon.

And goodness? Well that depends if you catch me when the office is not dealing with a deadline or I’m not in the midst of creating.

It’s easy to be good, polite and hospitable when everything is in line, but when the office is trying to complete the Heartline or the bulletin or when I’m creating liturgy or the week’s sermon…that’s something else.

Sermon writing is not an easy thing. There is not only the research that goes into it, it’s the creativity and trying to find a new way to say something that’s over 2,000 years old.

It’s all been said before, all been done before.

There are some sermons that seem to fall right out of the sky, fully formed-the character sermons are a perfect example.

Then there are those that pop out like a newborn chick from an egg simply from a book I read, or a movie or TV show I saw.

But then there are the other weeks…the times where it seems impossible to craft or form a single word, idea or message.

As a writer there is a series of thoughts that run through my being:
-I have nothing to say
-I have no witty story, joke, parable to use

Which segues into:
-I am nothing
-I’ll never be able to write another sermon ever again.

Which then derails into:
-I’m going to have to get another job
-I have no marketable skills
-I’m going to work at Publix for the rest of my life

Believe it or not, this can happen almost every single week, for years, and yet the miracle is that something always emerges.

But as any creative person will tell you, the act of creation is a wilderness experience of self-doubt, fear, and worry.

For pastors it takes on another element, because sermon creations are tied into the awesome responsibility of sharing the Good News, of teaching people about Jesus Christ, of encouraging them to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with the Lord.

Of giving a reason to hope even when things seem hopeless; of believing and turning to God…

…and then, that’s when the light clicks, the truth sets in. The ego is vanquished and the reality is reminded: it’s never about us; it’s about God, it’s for God, and it’s from God.

So the preacher steps back, stops worrying, lets go, clears the head and soul by running, sleeping, cleaning, reading, anything to reset the body and soul, and it comes together somehow, someway.

Anyone who is creative, who has written, composed, crafted, collaged will tell you this is so.

The creative process is a wilderness and if not careful, the psyche works in a way that can make one turn away from God, not trust in the Lord, not believe that all things are possible.

I share this all for two reasons. The first is because this Thursday our church is blessed to have a nationally known author and speaker joins us for a speaking engagement.

Her name is Jill Badonsky and she’s worked with numerous creative folk, she’s published books and writes an interactive blog.

With humor, gentleness and goodness she’ll share with us how to “Create a World of Joy Within the Real You.”

In preparing for her visit, I read over her blogs. One that struck me was about dealing with pessimism and negative emotions.

Jill’s response was fascinating. She stated that if you feel any kind of negative emotion, instead of suppressing it, you should embrace it.

If you get bad news, like the plumber is late or your car is not ready, instead of running away from that feeling or irritation, embrace it.

Jill gives an exercise: feel that emotion in every cell of your body. Slump in your chair. Furrow your eye brows, squint your eyes, grunt like you are a cat expelling a hairball.

Sigh big and deep, cross your arms, think of the doom, harbor resentments. “Banish any notion of being civil.” Snivel, scowl, and say cynical statements.

Connect to the suffering. Then, let it go…

Sit and write about how you felt. When done- smile.

According to Jill, this ability to connect with what you feel can actually create a person who can positively channel how they feel into what they do, who has a flow of freedom, and who is truly authentic.

Does that sound, by chance, anyone we might know?

Positive, free and authentic…could those be words we use to describe Jesus Christ?

Today’s reading is an interesting one because it allows itself for so many questions:
-Did it really happen or is it a metaphor?
-Does Satan really exist?
-Do angels really exist?
-Could Jesus really have been tempted?

All of these can be a sermon on their own. But what interests me this week is the notion that part of Jesus’ temptation was about turning from God.

Note that Satan doesn’t tempt Jesus to do things like steal, kill, and lie. What Satan does is try to fool Jesus into no longer trusting God.

Jesus is in a wilderness. A lonely place; a challenging place. He has undergone a rough patch of days. Temptation comes in a variety of ways with one intention: to turn him away from God.

After 40 days of being in the dessert it would have been so easy to do. After 40 days of having nothing to eat it would have been so easy. After 40 days of no other contact it would have been so easy.

Yet Jesus does not fall into the trap; Jesus does not give into the temptation to turn from God.

How did he do so? The easy answer is to say he’s the Son of God, holy and without sin.

But to immediately say that doesn’t give credence to the other side of Jesus. The human side. We claim that Jesus was fully human and fully divine.

But what does it mean to be fully human?

It means more than just to live and breathe. It means to experience. It means to think. It means to feel.

To feel lonely when you are alone.

To feel famished when you have not eaten.

To have doubt when you are scared.

To cry when you are sad.

To laugh when something is funny.

To be tempted when you are without.

Do you believe that Jesus felt these things? Are you willing to allow Jesus to have that human side in which being in the wilderness could be scary and make him feel alone?

Can you allow Jesus to have his own doubts, to even possibly explore the idea of turning from God?

Do you think that at any time Jesus could have said to Satan “Yes.”?

These are not mindless, simple questions being asked, but deeply theological questions that help us shape not only our understanding of who Jesus is, but who we are as well.

Jill Badonsky encourages people to give in to what they feel, to experience it, so they can let go and move on.

I wonder if that’s what Jesus had to do as well.

During those days in the wilderness was he being polished and prepared for ministry?

Did he also have to find his own way to deal with his own doubts, fears, worries, and emptiness?

I think so. I think in this story what Matthew is telling us is that Jesus also had a time in his life in which he had to wonder if perhaps there was an easier way to live. That instead of relying on God he could do it all alone, magically, and by himself.

I think this story is telling us that Jesus too had a time in which he could inflict self-harm on himself as a way of challenging God.

I think this story is telling us that Jesus too had a time in which he could have taken the easy way, without any hard work, suffering or sacrifice.

I think this story is not about a match of wills between two supernatural beings, but it’s about how Jesus himself also experienced a similar set of temptations that we all face over and over and over again.

Therefore, it allows Jesus to have solidarity with us; therefore Jesus becomes the one we can turn to when we are also facing such trials, we are facing such temptations.

After all, it is not the temptations that define who we are; it is how we confront and deal with them.

It’s how we each find our own way to turn to God even in the most difficult of times; it’s how we each find ways to confront the temptations and wildernesses in our lives.

In conclusion, this week I’d like to suggest something different for all of us then what I had originally planned when we came up with this Stewardship Sermon Series.

This week, instead of unselfishly focusing on others, let’s focus on ourselves in a way that is self-full.

Regardless if we are creating, or building, or healing, or planning, or leading, be good to yourself this week.

If you come across a difficult situation that tries your faith, be gentle with yourself, because after all, you are only human.

And if you worry if you made the right or wrong choice, show self-control on how much you may judge or limit or criticize yourself.

When you find yourself in a wilderness of doubt or worry, fear or shame, loneliness or being overwhelmed, don’t run from it.

Embrace it, acknowledge it, turn to God and find a way to trust, to believe and to receive.

That some way, somehow the demons of doubts and distress will be diminished.

Believe that somehow, some way, God will be revealed and attending angels will make themselves known in a multitude of ways.

After all, no one here is called to be Christ; we are called to be the best versions of ourselves that we can be.

To be free, to be authentic. To be us.

For that, we can all say “Amen and amen.”

Sermon for March 2, 2014

Rev. George Miller
1 Corinthians 12:4-7 & Galatians 5:22-23
“Surprising Gifts of the Spirit”
March 2, 2014

Today I have two stories to share. First, there was a young woman wandering the world, lost and lonely, no idea where she was going.

One day she came across an amazing find: a beautiful gem. She held it up to the light and every color of the rainbow shined bright.

Finding that gem brought her great joy, the greatest gift she could have ever found. It empowered her to continue her journey with new found excitement and confidence.

To the first person she met, she said “Let me show you what I’ve found.”

Oohing and aahing the person said “How priceless this must be. It is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen!”

The woman thought “Yes it is. Perhaps I should hold onto it tighter to make sure it doesn’t get lost or stolen.”

With the gem in her possession she realized she was done journeying and stopped at the first place that provided safety and shelter.

Because of the gem, she felt encouraged and applied for the best job she could find and built a home to call her own.

She carried the gem in her coat pocket, near her heart, until fearing it may fall out, she placed it in her pants pocket, then tucked it into her sock.

Finally, she locked the gem away in a box.

The woman grew older. She had a loving family, wonderful job, a fabulous home, and the most resplendent gem that had ever been seen.

But she stopped sharing her find with others, fearing that if people knew what she had they’d hurt her or steal it, so she hid the gem away where no one could ever see it.

Each day she’d take it out of hiding to admire its beauty until one day a knock came at the door. She quickly hid the gem and when the person left she thought “That was a close one. Perhaps I should limit how often I look at it.”

She looked at the gem only once a week, but that seemed too much. Then once a month, but the risk was still too great. So she limited viewing to holidays only.

Finally, she decided the safest thing to do was to tuck the gem away in a dark, secret place that no one could ever find.

Years passed. The woman grew older. Her health became frail. Although her days of wandering were long over, she felt more lost than ever before.

Realizing she was not much longer for this earth, she decided to take out the gem and look at it once more.

She hobbled into the basement, dug behind the secret brick, moved the fresh earth, pulled out the locked box, took out the smaller box inside it, pulled out the rolled up sock, unwrapped the tissue paper…

…and the gem was not there.

After years of being hidden in secret, after years of not being shared, the special and unique gem had deteriorated to dust.

In agony the woman grabbed the handful of the remains and lifted it up hoping the particles would still catch the light, but no luck.

By keeping the priceless gem in a permanent state of security the woman had rendered it useless and brought about its demise.

She spent the last days of her life mourning what she had lost…

And now the second story: One day Jesus took Peter, James and John on a journey up a mountain and the most amazing thing happened: Jesus was transfigured before them, his face shining like the sun, his clothes dazzling white.

As if that wasn’t amazing enough, Moses and Elijah appeared and began talking with Jesus.

Peter stated “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I’ll make three dwellings here for you, Moses and Elijah.”

Who knows why Peter felt moved to say what he did.

Was it because he felt Jesus was a precious gem and if not hidden away he’d be lost forever?

Was it because the moment was so amazing, so free of the world’s worries that Peter never wanted it to end?

We’ll never know because a bright cloud overshadowed them and a voice said “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.”

The disciples fell to the ground, but Jesus touched them, saying “Get up and do not be afraid.” When they looked up, Jesus was alone.

They walked down the mountain where they were greeted by a crowd and a man came up, asking that they help his son. (Matthew 17)

Today is Transfiguration Sunday, when we recall this memorable day in the ministry of Jesus.

This biblical story resonates because it speaks about those times in which we experience the Holy as being so present, so real, that we want time to be frozen forever.

We’ve all had those moments that we wish we could bottle up: a day on the golf course where everything is just right, a relaxing vacation we don’t want to end, a romantic date, or the holding of a newborn baby.

So much better than real life where people are sick, war looms and weather gets in the way.

Peter has an experience so perfect, so right, he wants to stay on that mountain with Jesus forever, but they come back down.

Why? Because there is life to be lived, relationships to be made and ministry to perform.

There are gifts to be given. There is fruit to be shared.

Today is not just Transfiguration Sunday, but it’s also the day our Stewardship Committee passes out Intent to Give cards.

Today we invite you to think about not just the mountaintop moments you’ve had with Jesus, but how we are each called to share Christ’s ministry, to share our fruit, to share our gifts with our neighbors.

Over the last few weeks we’ve talked a lot about what it means to be a person of Christian faith; about finding the holy in every day experiences, acknowledging that we belong to God, and the ways in which worship allows us to connect with God and to discover what God wants.

As Christians we get to have mountaintop moments, we get to experience God as loving parent; we get to experience God in ways that are affirming and life-giving.

As Christians we are blessed with so many gifts: we have an identity, we have assurance and we are the recipients of fruit of the Holy Spirit, freely given so that what makes us unique, what makes us special can be appreciated by all.

In Galatians 5, Paul refers to love, joy and peace, patience, kindness and generosity, gentleness and self-control.

Throughout this month of Stewardship we will focus on these gifts, on these fruit.

And since we are also entering the Season of Lent, we’d like to offer a friendly challenge: instead of finding things to give up for the next 40 days, we invite you to find ways to share these fruit, bit by bit, each week.

Why? Because the gifts of God are not meant to be frugally used or to be horded.

The fruit of the Holy Spirit is not meant to be locked in a basement or kept in a tent on top of a mountain.

They are meant to be freely given; trusting that in Christ there is enough.

They are meant to be shared, trusting that we are not only sharing what makes us unique and special, but in our own sharing others are also given a chance to shine.

In closing, in Christ we have been given great gifts and told not to be afraid. The Holy Spirit blesses us with fruit sweeter than any the world has ever produced and we are encouraged to share them with all.

Lets trust that in God’s kingdom there is enough to go round, there is enough to share and that what makes us special and unique also allows us to shine, never to run out, never to be shut off from the world to view.

In Christ’s plentiful goodness, we all have love, joy and peace, patience, kindness and generosity, gentleness and self-control.

Why hold onto them tightly, locking them away or safely storing them on top of mountains?

In Christ’s plentiful goodness, we can all say “Amen.”

Sermon for Sunday, Feb 23, 2014; Leviticus 19:1-19

Rev. George Miller
Leviticus 19:1-19
“What Not to Wear”
Feb 23, 2014

Until recently there was a television show called “What Not to Wear”. It was comfort food TV, something to pass the time.

The premise of the show was fairly simple: fashion advisors Stacey and Clinton guided people in ways to dress that impressed and truly reflected who they are or want to be.

Regardless of a person’s height, age or body shape, they showed how using the right cut, color, and pattern made all the difference.

There were basically two kinds of people that Stacey and Clinton assisted: those who didn’t believe in their own self-worth and dressed drab and frumpy.

Then there were those who believed they were special and unique so they dressed loud and inappropriately.

This second group had a hard time letting go of their current clothes, afraid that if they were to dress any other way then they would stop being…special and unique.

What happened during the course of the show is that they learned it was not the clothes that made them special and unique.

What the right clothes did was make them shine in a way they never had before, without losing what made them special and unique…

Today we come to the end of a three-week series in which our scriptures were selected by Debbie Teeters. I believe she did a wonderful job, starting with Isaiah 58, continuing with 1 Corinthians 3.

We’ve discussed how being a Christian shapes who we are, how we act and how we are to worship God.

Today we conclude with a reading from Leviticus. A lot of folk aren’t too familiar with this book; others are afraid of it. This is a text that some use as a weapon to judge or hurt others.

But we should not be so uncomfortable or afraid of this book. It offers insight into the beginning stages of our faith when people were trying to figure out what it means to follow God, what it means to live a holy life.

When this book was written, its audience was the minority group and they were indeed special and unique.

While others worshipped gods of war, gods of royalty, and gods of wealth, the Israelites worshipped another kind of God.

They believed in a God whose every action went against the expected norm.

In Genesis, when God calls forward a couple to become the family through which all families of the world will be blessed, who does God choose?

A young, virile king and queen?

Nope: an older, childless couple who live off the land named Abraham and Sarah. Their family tree was as good as dead and they were at that stage of life in which people think about retiring to Tanglewood for pickleball and aqua aerobics.

Abraham and Sarah were special and unique, yet they were the ones God chose to bring new life into the world.

In Exodus, when God selects the chosen people, who will they be? The Egyptians with their pharaohs, palaces and pyramids?

No. The chosen people are the foreign slaves, oppressed, lowly, poor and despised.

The slaves are special and unique, yet it is for them that God parts the Red Sea waters.

In 1 Samuel when God calls forward a new king to replace Saul, is it Saul’s first born son, raised in royalty with servants on hand?

No, it’s David, the youngest son of a rancher who was raised in the field, watching sheep and playing music.

Young David was special and unique, yet it is he who God calls.

While other nations, other religions claimed to worship gods of war, gods of royalty, and gods of wealth, the Israelites claimed the God they worshipped, the God they believed in, is, was and forever will be a God of the elderly, the childless, the hopeless, the youngest, the forgotten, the enslaved, the despised, the oppressed, and the different.

Because of this understanding of what made them special and unique, it shaped how they believed they were to act as people of faith.

Since God went out of the way to show love and care to the special and unique, they were to also find ways to care for and respect others, being the best dang neighbor one can be and to treat others as one would want to be treated.

With this in mind, let’s look at Leviticus 19. It states that since God is holy, the people are to be holy as well.

Holy is another way to say special and unique.

A list of ways follow. Some may seem puzzling, like the notion of not eating sacrificed food past the third day, although for people with no refrigeration, it must have made sense.

Then there are the things that are timeless: don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t cheat your neighbor or hold back someone’s pay.

Don’t gossip. Don’t give someone special treatment in court just because they are rich or because they are poor.

Respect your parents, don’t be mean to your kin, or someone deaf or blind.

Socio-economic justice exists in the instruction to leave the edges of land and all fallen fruit for the poor and alien to gather.

(Imagine if everyone with an orange tree or orange grove actually did that?)

Do not act on vengeance or bear a grudge, but love your neighbor as yourself? Why?

Because God is our Lord.

Can you hear just how special and unique these notions are?

But then we go to verse 19 about not interbreeding animals, or sowing a field with two kinds of seeds or wearing clothes made of two fabrics.

What? Why?? Let me share two thoughts-

First, here’s a notion of our God being so special, so unique, so holy that care isn’t just extended to humans, but it goes beyond to animals, the earth, and even to what we wear.

A God so special that it matters how we treat other living creatures. A God so unique that even seeds are to be given a chance to grow and thrive with their own share of soil and sun.

Here’s the second thought: the Israelites religious life focused on the Temple. It was where they worshipped God; where they brought their thanksgiving offerings; where they received forgiveness of their sins; where they gathered as a people, forging and maintaining their cultural identity.

They also believed the Temple is where God lived.

Then, one day they are attacked. Their homes are destroyed, the people are kidnapped and the Temple is burned to the ground.

The people, the priests and even God are literally homeless.

They are devastated and left with a theological dilemma: how can you worship God with no Temple?

With no temple, where would God dwell?

With no temple, how could they hold onto their identity as special, unique, holy people???

…That, dear friends, is part of what makes today’s reading so powerful. It helps to offer a solution to the theological dilemma.

Being holy, being special and unique was not just about a building of brick and stone; it involved every aspect of their life.

Even with the Temple gone, they could experience God’s holiness in the ways in which they lived in relationship with one another and with their environment:

-Being nice to your momma.

-Not lying, cheating or engaging in gossip.

-Paying what is right; charging what is fair.

-Looking out for the deaf, the blind, the poor, the alien.

-Treating others as you’d want to be treated.

All those ways are holy, ways one can still experience God; to know God has not deserted you, to discover that God indeed has a dwelling: within your heart.

But it goes even a step further: care for your animals; plant a garden. That’s holy.

Even if the only thing you can do is take one day to rest or to be mindful of what you are wearing, that too can be holy.

This is a revolutionary notion that God’s holiness extends out to all aspects of life.

Everything we do can become a holy act infused with the presence of God, no matter how simple, no matter how mundane.

This means that our awareness of and relationship with God is not just tied to a specific building or a religious leader but it can be attached to all the daily things we do.

Though Leviticus is often seen as a set of constricting rules, there are elements of freedom because it lets us know that no matter who we are, no matter where we are on life’s journey, no matter what happens to us, there are ways we can experience God, there are still ways we can share God.

There are still ways in which we can be holy, there are still ways we can be special and unique, even if all we have are a song to sing, kind words to say or a packet of seeds.

Reach out to another: God is there.

Be honest and just: God is there.

Pay attention to what we wear, the animals we care for, the gardens we tend: God is there.

In God we can all be holy; in God we are all special and unique.

In God we can all shine, shine, shine.

Amen and amen.

Sermon for Feb 16, 2014; 1 Corithians 3:1-9

Rev. George Miller
1 Corinthians 3:1-9
“You Belong to Me”
Feb 16, 2014
________________________________________
A burglar broke into a home one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables. When he picked up a computer, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, "Jesus is watching you."

He nearly jumped out of his skin, shut his flashlight off, and froze. When he heard nothing else, he shook his head, promised himself a vacation after the next big score, then clicked the flashlight back on.

Just as he pulled a stereo out to disconnect the wires he heard, "Jesus is watching you."

Freaked out, he frantically shone his light around, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, the light came to rest upon a parrot.

"Did you say that?" he asked the parrot.

"Yep," the parrot confessed, then squawked, "I'm just trying to warn you!"

The burglar relaxed. "Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?"

"Moses," replied the bird.

"Moses?" the burglar laughed. "What kind of people would name their bird Moses?"

"The same kind of people that would name their Rottweiler Jesus!"

…If you were alive during the 1950’s-early 60’s you may recall that it was a magical era for music on the radio.

Rock and roll was new, and you may hear “Splish Splash I was taking a bath” alongside a song like “Moon River.”

There were tunes like Nat King Cole’s “L-O-V-E”: “L is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I see, V is very, very extraordinary, and E is even more than anyone that you adore…”

Or Peggy Lee’s “Fever”: “Never know how much I love you; never know how much I care. When you put your arms around me I get a fever that’s so hard to bare.”

Then there was the doo-wop music. Groups of handsome, clean cut young men who’d sing in gorgeous harmonies about their affections for a sweet, pretty girl.

These songs captured that all-too brief period in American history when everyone loved Lucy, liked Ike, war was over, jobs were plentiful and teenagers had cars meant to be driven slowly through town, with the top down, and to park at the drive in theater or at lover’s lane.

One of the song’s from that era is “You Belong to Me” by the Duprees. It has picturesque lyrics about pyramids along the Nile, sunrises from tropic isles, flying over oceans in a silver plane and seeing jungles wet with rain.

It’s rich with creation-based imagery that any ecotheologian would delight in. And, as “Sister Act 1 & 2” taught us, virtually any love song from that era can be turned into a song about God.

“You Belong to Me” sounds like a lyric God would sing to us as a reminder that it’s not pyramids or market squares or silver planes that we belong to, but it is God.

Not in a crazy, stalker way, or in a “Jesus as a Rottweiler” kind of way, but in a way that reminds us that we belong to God much as we would to a loving father, a faithful lover or a longtime companion.

Last week we heard a message from our guest speaker Joshua who used the teaching of Isaiah 58 to remind us of what God wants and what it means to follow God.

Today’s reading is a natural progression of Isaiah in which we read a letter from Paul reminding us of what it means to be a Christian.

There is controversy taking place in the Corinthian church. It’s the early 50’s, just two decades after Christ was crucified and resurrected.

Paul has started a church in Corinth and is succeeded by Apollos.

People are starting to stir things up. Who can belong, who can’t? What are the accepted sexual norms? How does the Holy Spirit function in worship? What’s the true meaning of the resurrection?

Who do we actually follow: Paul who started the church or Apollos who is now our current preacher and religious leader?

So Paul writes them this passionate letter. He explores numerous topics, but in today’s portion he states “You don’t belong to me. You don’t belong to Apollos. You belong to God as revealed in Jesus Christ.

“We are God’s servants working together; you are God’s field; you are God’s building.”

But I got to tell you: methinks Paul doth protest too much. Did you notice that in just 9 verses Paul refers to himself twice by name, twice he refers to himself indirectly as the planter, and he used the word “I” three times?

If Paul was really being sincere, he could have simply said “It doesn’t matter who your past or present pastor is, you belong to God and Jesus Christ is your foundation.”

Instead Paul is like:

“You are babies. I fed you with mother’s milk. But you argue: I belong to Paul; I belong to Apollos.”

But who is Paul? I am just a man. It is because of I that you came to believe in Jesus.

I simply started the church. But really I, Paul, who planted this congregation, am nothing. God caused it to grow.

“Really, I only started the church; later I will receive my award for that. Really, I am only a simple servant.”

I love this! I think consciously or unconsciously Paul really does want the accolades, he wants the recognition. And the more he brushes them away, the more he brings attention to himself.

And you know what? That’s OK. Because Paul is, after all, only human. He is just as much a spiritual baby as he claims the congregants to be.

Paul is still flawed, still learning, still growing, still on his own personal journey that will take him across the continents, sharing the Good News about Christ.

Here’s what’s cool about Paul’s “don’t pay attention to the man behind the curtain” spiel: he really does bring home the point that ultimately as followers of Christ it is God we belong to.

Paul’s very human letter to a very human congregation reminds us 2,000 years later that as Christians our ultimate allegiance does not belong to country, does not belong to state, does not belong to political party.

As Christians our ultimate allegiance does not belong to just one denomination, one congregation or to just one pastor.

Our ultimate allegiance is to God as revealed in Jesus Christ, who ate with us at table, died for us on the cross and rose 3 days later.

Paul’s letter is a timeless reminder that we are more than just American, we are more than UCCers, we are more than Emmanuelites, and we are more than parishioners of Bill, Bob, Barbara or George, that we are Christians.

We belong to God.

We are servants of God. We are God’s field; we are God’s flowers. We are God’s building. Christ is our foundation.

We are children of God. To be nourished, protected, fed so that we can mature, so that we can freely receive the gifts of grace and in return share ours gifts with others and do what God wants.

What does God want? As Isaiah 58 stated, to worship in ways that are pleasing to God by loosening the bonds of injustice, freeing the oppressed, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and helping the homeless.

Who do we belong to? Not to pyramids or market squares or silver planes or to parrots named Moses.

We belong to God. We are God’s field. We are God’s building. And Christ is our foundation.

Amen and amen.

Sermon for Feb 9, 2014; Isaiah 58:1-12

Rev. George Miller
Isaiah 58:1-12
“Fast & Faithful”
Feb 9, 2014

(Delivered in character as a Virginia farmer during the Reconstruction Period)*

Our country is not what is was, nor will it ever be again. It’s been 10 years since the Civil War has ended, yet the wounds have not begun to heal, and we as a nation are still just as divided.

The war took the lives of both my sons Jacob and John and has broken my wife’s heart. Every night Martha still cries for the loss of our boys. Every day I still look around at the wreckage that was done.

Houses, banks and factories destroyed and looted, two-thirds of our railroad tracts pulled up, the Shenandoah Valley scarred and wasted: forests cuts down, plantations burned and unplanted, animal bones littering the land, homeless left wandering the street.

How Martha and I survived is a miracle, a miracle I can only attribute to God.

To be honest with you, I wonder where God is now; I wonder is he’s been asleep or just plain deserted us, or if he is punishing us.

What they call a Radical Reconstruction has been going on, but it’s been a slow, painful process. Carpetbaggers from the north have come down, some to help, others to take advantage of the situation. Scalawags are shunned for being Confederate traitors.

4 million freed slaves are trying to define a new life for themselves. The Civil Rights Act has been passed.

A group of men called the Ku Klux Klan operate on fear and prejudice, seeking their revenge for perceived wrongs.

Though my land is recovering, our hearts have not as nothing can ever bring back our two boys.

Still, we go to church, or the makeshift building we call a church. Sunday morning has become a time of escape; a reprieve from all the week’s woes.

We gather with others offering our praise to God. Sometimes I sense it’s all a show: people dressing up, spouting platitudes, sharing pleasantries yet seeming to be engaged in a contest to see who can praise God the loudest, give the most eloquent prayer or perform the most humbling of acts.

It’s like folks are going through the motions hoping that if they dress the best, sing the loudest, pray the prettiest or fast the most furious then God will finally hear them and do something, anything to speed up the condition of things.

After worship is over, I’ve noticed that most folk’s lives go back to the way they’ve been. The quarrelling, the infighting, the pointing of fingers, the exalting of one’s self and the violent acts perpetrated on innocents.

Nothing seems to be getting done. Our ruins are not yet rebuilt; the streets are still in disrepair. We have no foundation for the future generation. The homeless still wander the street, the hungry still beg for bread, and kin folk have neglected to care for one another.

It all reminds me of Isaiah 58. The prophet was writing to people not unlike us who had endured a difficult situation. Their city had been attacked by the Babylonians, their finest citizens were kidnapped and everything was burned to the ground.

For 50 years they lived in a foreign land until they were granted their freedom and returned to Jerusalem, only to find their streets were in shambles.

They thought things would be easier, but discovered it would be just as hard. And they prayed and they fasted and they sung out to God, assuming God would make things right. But nothing changed.

Then one day the prophet came to the people and said God was not interested in false acts of show, that the offering God sought was one that was done to neighbor: justice, food, freedom, clothes, and a place to call home.

Then the glory of God would be revealed and light would break into the darkness; that parched places would be satisfied, ruins would be rebuilt and the future would become possible.

I remember the day the pastor preached on Isaiah 58. I thought to myself that it made common sense, but a lot good it would do me with my boys dead, my land still scarred and my wife still weeping.

Where is God? Does God listen? Does the Good Lord still even care?

I thought about these things all week. As I worked the land, as I brought the produce into town, as I left the country store with a bolt of fabric thinking it may cheer Martha up to make herself a pretty ‘lil dress.

On the way back a young man came up to me. It was hard to tell just how old he was. He was dark as coal and looked young but had an air about him that said he had already become too aware of the ways of the world.

“Excuse me mister,” he said, coming right up to the buggy. “I have nowhere to go and nothing to eat; can you take me away from here?”

My first response was “No.” I don’t take to strangers in my vehicle. I rode away.

But there was something about him: an earnestness, a gentleness in his eyes. I can’t explain it, but despite the color of his skin he looked as if he could have been one of my own sons, like he could have been Jacob or John.

For that moment I felt a kinship with him. Didn’t know his story, who he was, what he really wanted. But then I remembered the pastor’s preaching on Isaiah and decided it didn’t matter. I pulled the wagon to the side of the road and called him over.

I had some money I keep with me for emergencies. Knowing it would not make a difference in my livelihood, I handed it over to him.

Immediately the young man fell to the ground in thanksgiving. “Praise Jesus!” he stated. He jumped up and said “Thank you. My name is Jeremiah.”

I smiled; a prophet’s name. “And I’m Joshua.”

Jeremiah then did something I considered bold: he held up his hand, exposing his palm, and by instinct I held mine up my hand too, and we interlaced our fingers… then he was on his way.

I continued home, a few dollars lighter, but the darndest thing happened: it seemed as if the road was less bumpy, the sun seemed to shine a bit brighter, the fields a bit fuller, and wouldn’t you know it, for the first time in a long time, a humming song started to come from my soul.

Is this what Isaiah 58 was about? Is this the kind of fast God was referring to? A simple act done for another for no other reason but that it was the right thing to do; that though we were different we still shared a kinship?

When I arrived home, Martha noticed the difference in me. When I told her the story, she broke out in a smile; when I told her how Jeremiah reminded me of Jacob and John, she spilled a little tear.

When I gave her the bolt of fabric she took it into her arms and said “I know just what I’m going to make with this.”

For the next few days Martha worked on that bolt of fabric, humming as she did. When done, she presented it to me. Instead of a dress, she had made a shirt.

“For Jeremiah,” she said, “If you ever see him in town again.”

In her act, in her words, I feel like I have seen God once more and I’m reassured that the Lord is not asleep, nor is the Lord absent.

The Lord is there when we find ways to do unto others.

The country is not what is was, nor will it ever be again. Too much has taken place for us to return to ways of the past.

But I have discovered that as Christians, as folk of faith, we must realize that change and progress does not rest solely on the carpetbaggers, the governments nor the kings of the world.

It rests on us: ordinary folk called by God, joined in Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit to do our own acts of justice and righteousness.

I learned that while worship is enjoyable and pleasing to God, it also puts us in touch with what God wants.

According to Isaiah 58 if we each play our own part, we each find our own way to loose the bonds of injustice, to let the oppressed go free, to share what we have and to not hide our gifts from one another.

The country is not what it was, but in Christ it can be even better. In Christ our parched places will be satisfied, our ruins rebuilt, and our streets made straight for the journey.

In Christ we each have a chance to raise up foundations for the generations yet to come and to make God’s kingdom on earth just as it is in heaven.

Amen and amen.

*Sermon inspired by the Broadway musicals Shenandoah and Assassins and the books The Aftermath of the Civil War by Dale Anderson (2004) and Reconstruction: Rebuilding After the Civil War by Judith Peacock (2003) and the commentary on Isaiah 58 written by J. Clinton McCann.