Through Stained Glass: Parking Lot Wind

Perhaps the best piece of advice I’ve read on prayer comes from an African proverb.

It suggests, “If you want to speak to God, tell it to the wind.”

Wind is often used to describe the presence of God in the Scripture.

“When God began to create the heavens and the earth—the earth was without shape or form, it was dark over the deep sea, and God’s wind swept over the waters—God said, “Let there be light.”

“The Holy One formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils.”

“God’s spirit made me; the Almighty’s breath enlivens me.”

“Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath:[c] Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath,[d] and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” 10 I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.”

“God’s Spirit[a] blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.””

“He breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.””

“And suddenly there came from heaven a noise like a violent rushing wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting…and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues…”

The last reference if from Acts 2—the story of Pentecost.

Sunday is Pentecost Sunday. It is the day we celebrate the rebirth of God’s people. The Spirit of God is poured out upon believers, and the result was the continuation of proclaiming God’s love to the world. The Pentecost moment is a renewal of God’s faithfulness and devotion to God’s people—a reminder of God’s promise never to forsake or abandon. It is a reminder that God is always creating and moving us further down the road towards justice, peace, and love.

To think, all of life and the renewal of life began with wind—God’s breath. It is the Divine Breath that fuels our energies and inspires our dreams throughout our life. It is the Spirit of God that renews our hopes and reveals to us the new things God is doing in our midst. God breathes a newness into our lungs so that we may sing God’s praises and tell the story of God’s saving love in our midst.

We will have a chance to do that Saturday night. Minus the singing, of course.

You are invited to join me for evening prayer in the parking lot of First Presbyterian Church at 6:00 pm on Saturday, May 30, 2020. It’ll be a simple service you won’t even need to leave your car. Using a Soundsystem and wearing my mask, I will lead us in a brief liturgy for evening prayer in preparation for Pentecost Sunday. After the prayer and as you exit the parking lot, I will hand each of you a pinwheel to incorporate into your worship space on Sunday morning. It’ll be our first attempt at an outside service, so I welcome your patience and willingness to try something new…while wearing your masks. There will be no singing, no bulletins, and no getting out of our vehicles to hug. However, there will be fellowship, a deepening of our faith, and a renewed sense of community as we gather outside for worship.

Saturday night will be fun. Why? We’ll be together, outside, and speaking to God through the wind that blows.

Through Stained Glass: Choosing the Beloved Community

Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon.

         

“Choosing the Beloved Community”

Acts 2.1-21 & John 20.19-23

Sunday, May 31, 2020

I was 19 years old when I think I can remember my calling to ministry. The wild thing about this call is that it happened in a bowling alley in Peoria, Illinois. Yes, you heard that correctly—I received the call to ministry when I was teaching myself how to repair bowling machines and hosting birthday parties for snot-nosed kids. I guess it is true, God shows up wherever we are—even bowling alleys.

            The call wasn’t to bowling center ministry. No, it was a call to community—that could be facilitated by the bowling alley. Without boring you of too many details, my coworkers and friends [who between the ages of 17-19] had it in our heads that we could create a space for teens in central Illinois to hang out where they could be safe, entertained, and fed. [Side note: if you want a ministry to grow, or a program to expand—always, ALWAYS, have food!] After months of dreaming and discussing at our Bible studies that took place on the approach to lanes 3 and 4, we decided to pitch an idea to the ‘board.’

            It went as you would expect—the board of know-it-alls picked apart our plan, leaving us like a football from the 2017 AFC championship game, deflated. It wasn’t so much the fact that our proposal had holes—we knew it would—it was how this board of men did it. Mainly how they patronized us, doubted our ability to market this ministry, and flat out didn’t take us seriously because we were ‘youth.’ We wanted to give up, but we didn’t because we had one person who believed in what we were presenting and offered his help in our endeavor. I guess God does show up wherever we are—even in unexpected people.

            The assurance from our boss was the inspiration we need to put together the program for our new project, “In the Midst.” For the most part, we didn’t know what we were doing, and the concerns from the dudes on the ‘board’ were valid. Still, we trusted what we felt was a call to offer an alternative space for the youth in the city and tried it anyway. We knew the plan wasn't perfect. We also knew we wouldn’t be 100 % prepared. We certainly knew we had doubters and nay-sayers who doubted us. We used this negativity for something positive—the creation and cultivation of an alternative community.

            For three years, it was successful! We gave students a third space to hang out and share their stories while providing them free nachos and a game of bowling. We saw what is possible if we imagined the impossible. The highlight of the ministry, of course, was when we had former Chicago Cub and World Series MVP, Ben Zobrist, join us for an evening. We never would have had that opportunity if we hadn’t started dreaming about what could be on lanes 3 and 4 of the bowling alley.

            Pentecost is the day we celebrate the pouring out of the Spirit onto the people of God. It is a day when we read about the impossible becoming the possible, and in turn, are inspired to do the impossible. Pentecost invites us to imagine the unimaginable and to awaken to the transrational and transcendent. Pentecost Sunday allows the church to move and shake just enough [but not too much] to get us thinking outside of the familiar! It is a Sunday where we celebrate the gift of the Spirit illuminating the imagination of God’s people.

            When was the last time you used your imagination? My hope is that it hasn’t been too long, but if you are like me, my imagination isn't what it once was when I was a child. Isn’t it interesting that what seems so natural to children, to live in “non-reality,” seems so unnatural for us as adults? Did you know that one reason why our imagination wanes as we get older is that we simply don’t practice using it? The older we get, the more we are forced to turn our attention to logic, reason, and facts in school, thus spending more of our time and brainpower in reality—and less in creative imagination.

            Another reason why we spend less time playing with our imagination and exploring our creativity is that we fear being wrong. Kids don’t worry about whether they’re wrong. They bravely forge into new territory, willing to, and assuming they will often be wrong. However, as we mature, we quickly learn that being wrong usually has negative consequences. At school, we’re penalized for being wrong. At work, we’re penalized for being wrong. According to Sir Ken Robinson, an expert in creativity, “If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.” The result? We freeze. Our worry about failing and looking like a fool prevents us from exploring our creative imagination. The logic we use to pick apart our dreams prevents us from making the impossible possible, the unimaginable a reality.

            Thanks be to God we don’t fear the use of our imagination in the church, right? I mean, how can we? The very life source of our faith is the Spirit that is about creating—it is the Spirit that imagined something when there was nothing. This is what I think is the most important take away for Pentecost Sunday—the work of the Spirit isn’t always the fantastic work of creation or even the transformative moment we read in Acts. I think the Spirit of Pentecost occurs when we let our first response to our life together be one of openness and willingness, rather than hard-heartedness and short-sightedness.

            That is the thing about the Holy Spirit—it cannot be contained. The Spirit is wild, is free, and will go where the Spirit wants to go. Like the wind, we cannot contain it; still, the Spirit raises us up like a kite in the wind. Like water, we cannot keep it out entirely; still, the Spirit seeps through every nook and cranny of our lives to refresh us. Like a wildfire, the Spirit burns not to destroy but to restore our hearts with seedlings of God’s love.

The work of the Spirit is reforming, reshaping, and recreating us into the new humanity, Christ calls us to be. The church shows the world God’s hopeful design for humanity, which is reconciled, unified, whole, multiethnic, peaceful, and loving. The Holy Spirit is what makes the church a beacon to the world—but only when the church shows up as the church. We shine bright when we allow the Spirit to free us from our exclusive and oppressive practices. We shine when we allow the Spirit to illumine our imagination—which opens us up to the dream God has for us—a place where we find new ways of belonging and living together.

The Holy Spirit is what unites us and binds us together. The identity we have as a people of the Holy Spirit is one that forges new allegiances and new social imaginations. It nurtures a deep commitment to grace, forgiveness, and love. In a world full of division and conflict, the church can bring about unity by living into the Spirit’s power to reconcile and make peace.

The reason I love Pentecost Sunday is that it invites us to imagine what we think is unimaginable. On the day we celebrate the Spirit poured out on the church, we also celebrate the presence of that same Spirit in our lives. We remember how God gives us permission to use our imagination, to explore our creativity, and to pursue our wildest dreams for the church, because with God, anything is possible. In what may seem like a season of limitations, God is revealing new possibilities during a pandemic.

On Pentecost, think big, imagine great things and let new possibilities emerge without censorship. Don’t stifle your imagination. Expect great things from God and from each other! Though we have put many programs on pause, Pentecost reminds us that the future is open, and new possibilities can emerge out of life’s most challenging limitations.

So, church, what new thing are you imagining for the church? What wave of creativity will you ride into this new season of life together? What are you fired up about that will lead us into a deeper relationship with God and each other? How will you help us choose the beloved community?

Not sure how to answer these questions? All it takes is making a little time to explore your dreams. All that is required is that you show up with whatever wild idea you have, and we listen to each other. What we need we already have been given--the life-giving presence of the Holy Spirit.

If this doesn’t get you excited for the church, I’m not sure what will!

Through Stained Glass: Choosing Oneness, a sermon

Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon.

“Choosing Oneness”

Acts 1.1-14 & John 17.1-11

Sunday, May 24, 2020

            Over the last few weeks, I’ve been asked a question I imagine you have been, too. “How are you doing with the isolation?” My answer is that I’m doing ‘okay.’ Most of my rhythms remain the same. The only changes are the ones at church. However, even that hasn’t really changed too much. I continue to shelter-in-place at home. However, when I need a break from my house, or when my dogs get annoyed with me, I head to church. My study, the sanctuary, and the silence of the church is the perfect place for me to listen for God’s voice.

            Lately, though, the silence has gotten to me. I miss gathering with you all in our church. I miss hearing the choir practice before worship. I miss bumping into Leo before people start to arrive and catching up on how disappointing the Bears are or how overrated the Cardinals are this season. I miss the laughter from you all as you catch up with one another before worship. I miss the way we transition from ‘getting here to being here’ and the way we let that silence guide us into worship. I miss singing, I miss communion, and I miss listening together to the organ as it says our final ‘Amen.’ More than all the bells and whistles of worship, I miss you.

            Right now, there’s a lot of unknown. Many of us are asking, “When will we get back to normal?” Some of us are channeling our inner philosopher, asking, “What is normal even?” Still, others of us are letting the theologian ask, “What new normal is God creating with us at this moment?” All good questions. All come to a conclusion—we aren’t sure.

            And that is okay.

            God’s people know how to live in the unknown. We are a people who seem to always be on the move, going from the known to the unknown: from Eden to exile; enslavement in Egypt to the place of promise by way of an exodus; a season of plenty with palaces packed with goods to another exile where our water jugs and hearts were empty; and of course, the known life this side of heaven and the unknown mystery beyond. We are a people with a long history of navigating the unknown of life.

            The Acts story is an essential story for us in our current season of unknowing. It is the story of Christ’s ascension to heaven. As he goes, Christ says, “This is what you heard from me: John baptized with water, but in only a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” Christ offers them a word of promise as they enter into an unknown season without their resurrected Teacher. Still, what he promised doesn’t seem to satisfy the disciples, “As a result, those who had gathered together asked Jesus, “Lord, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now?”

            A fair question. They didn’t know what was happening. Christ promised them something that sounded like the revolution they anticipated. They simply wanted to know what to expect. The ascending Christ responds, “It isn’t for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has set by his own authority. Rather, you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

            Wait. What? They were going to do what? And where? Jerusalem, sure. But ‘all the ends of the earth?’ If I were in their shoes, I would have stood with my mouth open, staring up to heaven. They were just told they will be Christ’s witnesses, but only after they receive the power of the Holy Spirit. Suddenly the students would become the teachers. Christ revealed the love of God to the world through his life, ministry, death, and resurrection, and now, the disciples and the women are commissioned to do the same. Christ makes the promise known to those gathered, but there is still so much unknown.

            Thanks be to God, there were angels there to lite a fire them. “Why are you standing here, looking toward heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way that you saw him go into heaven.” It is as if the angel said, “stop looking upward, waiting from heaven. Instead, bring heaven to earth…now!” What happens next is my favorite part of the story.

            In an hour of great unknowing and with only the promise of the Spirit, they respond in prayer. Through their prayers, they were united not only to one another but also to God. From their prayers were they able to minister to the people in their lives. Perhaps the most important nugget of wisdom in this Acts passage is that we will receive power from God’s Spirit and that our task is to become both heavenly minded and earthly good. What the angels declared to the disciples and women, they say to us as well. Our calling and our work is to spread the good news and embody Jesus’ ministry of hospitality and healing in our lives. We can do this in many ways, such as standing up for those who are overlooked in our community [think the homeless, the widow/er, the person just out of prison and in need of a fresh start]. We can reveal the love of God to our neighbors by praying and acting for the liberation of the oppressed [think of those who can’t live as their authentic self for fear of violence or betrayal by loved ones]. Finally, we can witness to the love of God by bringing beauty to our daily relationships [think sending a ‘thinking of you’ card to someone randomly, resisting getting into petty arguments that only drive people farther apart, and being a decent, kind, sensible human being.] We have work to do as God’s companions in healing the world beyond the pandemic.

            As I conclude this sermon, I think it is essential to highlight the Gospel text. In a season that the unknown is becoming more known—restrictions are being lifted, and *normal* seems to return to our town—we must listen to the prayer of Jesus. In an hour of uncertainty for his disciples and after they question him about what would happen after his death, he prays. More specifically, he prays that they may be one. Christ knows that the only way the disciples will make it through the challenging, uncertain days lingering around the corner, they will need each other. As one pastor notes, “Earlier in John’s Gospel, Jesus commands his disciples to love one another so that “everyone will know” that they are followers of Christ. On the night before his death, Jesus declares the loving unity of his disciples the litmus test of Christian witness.” The precise way the world will know who and whose we are is by the way we love one another across differences, our willingness to preserve and cherish our God-ordained oneness. We will make known to the world the love of God in the way we love one another. In all that we say and do is how the world will see, taste, touch, hear and find Jesus. It’s through our unity that we will embody Jesus, make Jesus relatable, possible, plausible, to a dying world. In choosing oneness, the world’ will experience peace in the great unknown of the days to come.

           How am I doing with all of this pandemic stuff? It depends on the day. But usually, I make it through because of the love I experience in and through you all. While so much about what happens next is unknown, I take comfort in what I do know. That God is with us. The risen Christ is in our midst and makes all things holy. And the Spirit is praying on our behalf. 

             With the Love of the Triune God overflowing onto us, we have work to do. While the date and time of when we will assemble together in our sanctuary are unknown, we know what is being asked of us now—to take our place as Jesus’ companions in the creative and transformative work God is doing right now. In our unity and through our prayers, the world will know we are God's beloved by our love.

God is in us and with us and is luring us forward toward new adventures in faithful discipleship.

Through Stained Glass: 67 Days

March 15^th is when we as a church decided to switch from in-person gathering to online gathering as a way to do our part in flattening the curve of COVID-19.

It has been over two months since we were together in person.

It has also been over two months since we have been together in new ways.

Many of us are adapting smoothly to it.

Many of us are starting to get anxious.

All of us are starting to feel the effects of sheltering-in-place.

While I believe the decision to remain together while being separate is the most faithful way we can love God, neighbor, and ourselves, I also believe it is important to name all that we are feeling.

Indifferent.

Exhausted.

Frustrated.

Hopeful.

Whatever your feeling, it is okay. In whatever your feeling, remember that others are experiencing all of this differently.

And that is okay, too.

Remember the different ways Jesus’s friends interpreted the news about the resurrection. It didn’t come easy. All of them came to believe at different times. And in different places. No matter where those places were, Christ came to them with gentleness, compassion, and love.

Gentleness.

Compassion.

Love.

I need these gifts today.

For some reason, this week has me feeling tired. At night as I try to fall asleep, I wonder if I could have done more: called more people, wrote more words, prayed more prayers.

Many of you know that feeling, too.

Today, I’m trying to live into the words I often speak to you all.

Sometimes, it’s okay to just be.

Sometimes, it’s okay to let the Spirit pray on our behalf.

Sometimes, it’s okay to binge watch New Girl.

Sometimes, it’s okay to __________________.

It has been a while since we last worshipped in the light streaming through our beautiful stained-glass windows.

67 days to be exact [if my math is right and if you read this today [May 14].

Trust me, friends, the building misses you. But the church is doing ministry—even when we are separate from each other. The Holy Spirit might be working overtime, but this is exactly what She is called to do.

Tonight, I’ll rest in that good news and the assurance that the love of the Triune God overflows into our lives and is bringing about something new and beautiful.

Today, with a tired and tender spirit, this video continues to give me rest and hope.

May it’s simple message bring you some peace to knowing that someday, we’ll be back together in our sanctuary, singing about God's love and dream for us.

The very thing that keeps us star gazing and hoping...

Through Stained Glass: Choosing Goodness, a sermon

Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon.

“Choosing Goodness”

John 14.15-21

Sunday, May 17, 2020

            All good things must come to an end.

            Have you heard this phrase before? Chances are you may have said it yourself. The meaning of this phrase is that not even the most enjoyable experiences can last forever. Isn’t that the truth. You all know what I mean, right?

            Let's take a moment to consider good things that have come to an end. In no particular order: the Beatles, Joe Maddon, and the Cubs, the glory days of high school or college, Tom Brady and the Patriots, your favorite TV show, the economy, Sonny and Cher, your favorite restaurant, childhood, relationships, Prince William and Harry, vacations, amusement park rides, Sunday drives, are all examples of good things coming to an end.

            All good things will come to an end. And that is okay. Everything we experience and encounter will never last forever, though there are times it does feel like it lasts forever. Still, life goes on.

            Today we see Jesus preparing the disciples for life after his death—when the reality of a good thing ending sets in. The story today picks up from last week with Jesus and the disciples dining together at the last supper. Jesus has been telling the disciples about his coming departure, which raises the disturbing prospect of separation. Jesus knows it’ll be devastating for the group who gave up everything for him. He knows they’ll feel abandoned, betrayed, and even orphaned. Easter will be a joyous reunion, but the resurrection appearances will not continue indefinitely. All good things must come to an end.

What will the disciples do? How will they continue the ministry Christ leaves for them? As the years pass, people will be called to believe in a Jesus they have never seen or heard. All that Jesus revealed in his teachings and ministry will be conveyed through the tradition of the church in a world that may seem indifferent at best and hostile at worst to the message about a crucified Messiah. It is understandable then why there is so much fear, disbelief, and uncertainty in that upper room. Life will look different on the other side of death. What are they to do?

In his farewell discourse, Jesus tells the disciples that though he physically will be gone, he will send them a helper, companion, counselor: The Holy Spirit. Jesus explains to them that it is by the Spirit, they will recognize the risen Christ, as well as the abiding presence of the Father and the Son. Of course, they will only know the peace and love the Triune God offers if they keep the commandments Christ gave to them. They keep the commandments not because of some transactional understanding of faith, but because they love Jesus. Jesus promises that God will send the Helper and that upon receiving the Holy Spirit, they will be set apart from the world. It is the love they share, give, and receive, that will set them apart.

The Holy Spirit is what makes the community of believers unique. Unlike the world, the community of believers recognizes the power to transform comes not from anything we do, but from God. It is by the Spirit that we can do the work of God. The work of the Holy Spirit is to keep the truth of Jesus present to the world after Jesus’ departure. Whenever we love someone, whenever we care for our neighbor, whenever we consider the needs of the other, whenever we set aside our egos to welcome the stranger, and whenever we listen long enough to embrace our enemy, we bear witness to the Risen Christ in the world. The Holy Spirit dwells within us. Consider the song we learned way back in Sunday school, This Little Light of Mine. What today’s Gospel lesson asks of us is the same question this song asked of us as children: Will we hide our light under a bushel? No! The Holy Spirit in us is what continues the ministry of Christ—and the ministry of Christ revealed to the world the heart of God.

            In some way, what we hear in this story is that the good thing about Christ's love is that it will never end. However, this love is made visible when we keep the commandments. Belief in God is not enough to manifest the love of God in the world. Instead, we must do the work of Christ, and we can only love as Christ loved because of the Holy Spirit that dwells within us.

            Perhaps you’re asking yourself, “Okay, preacher. Love, I get it. But what exactly are the commandments we are to keep?” It’s simple, friends. All of the commandments of our faith come down to one—to love one another. Remember what Jesus said at the beginning of his final meal with his friends? “A new command I give you,” Jesus says.  “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples if you love one another.” Everything we do boils down to this command. When we love one another, we will know goodness all the days of our life.

            I started the sermon today quoting the proverb, “All good things come to an end.” If I may be honest, I’m ready for this bad thing that is COVID-19 to come to an end. Life is a paradox, and like good things, bad things will come to an end, too. However, it does not look like this will happen anytime soon. We must do as Jesus commands, and we love one another. Like, truly love one another. But it is difficult, isn’t it? Our egos get in the way, and that’s why we’ve really botched this commandment a lot over the last two thousand years. In my own life, it’s not too difficult to name why I perpetually flop at carrying out Christ’s command. Loving is hard—all the trust it involves; all the vulnerability it requires; all the selflessness it beckons; and all the time, effort, discipline, and transformation it needs. Left to my own devices, I’d be hoping for the bad times to end for a long time.

            The good news of all this, however, is that I’m not left to my own devices. The Spirit is with me—and is with you. We don’t have to love all by ourselves. We don’t have to do the impossible on our own. Jesus tells the group of disciples to love, as if to say, you don’t have to love from your well alone. Instead, you have each other, but more importantly, you have this promise: “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.”

Friends, remember, the Holy Spirit is an abiding presence; a teaching presence, calling to mind Jesus’ words; and a presence that both guides into all truth and declares the things to come. The Advocate is God’s own Spirit, God’s own heart, living within us. What Christ promises us is that Spirit will be with us, making possible God’s reign on earth possible—that alternative community that welcomes all because all belong. Indeed, this Spirit will abide by and among us, moving us to create sacred places where genuine, selfless human love can root and flourish.

We are called to love one another. In loving one another, the world will know God’s love. By knowing God’s love, we will be transformed into the beloved community. The beloved community lives and breathes and has its being in God by the Spirit—the same Advocate Christ promised to the disciples.

Before us today is the same invitation Christ extended the disciples—keep my commands, and you will know the goodness of love. The commandment — or better yet, the call — is to drink our fill of the Source, spill over to bless the world, and then return to the Source for a fresh in-filling. This is our movement, our rhythm, our dance. Over and over again.  This is where we begin and end and begin again.

Love me by keeping my commandments, Jesus says. The love we are commanded to share is the love we are endlessly given. “You in me and I in you.” The definition of love.

I guess the saying isn’t true, after all. Not all good things come to an end.

The love of God in Christ breathed in us by the Spirit is a good thing that lasts forever.

Through Stained Glass: Gazing at Grass

Gazing

“How can you act like God?

What a thing to even suggest!

I will tell you.

Gaze like the angels do

upon the riches of creation,

including you.”

~Meister Eckhart

I noticed it today.

I notice it right now.

I notice green.

In the trees.

In the grass.

In the weeds.

                        In spring.

I see it in my backyard.

I see it in the flower beds at church.

I see it in me.

                        I see spring.

The earth is reminding us of the promise of Easter.

No winter is too long to keep creation from springing.

No darkness is too dense to keep life from rising.

No death is too final to keep us from resurrecting.

The plants we’ve waited all winter for are finally risen!

                                                                                                Christ is, too!

The psalmist got it.

6 By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, * by the breath of God’s mouth all the heavenly hosts. 7 God gathers up the waters of the ocean as in a water-skin * and stores up the depths of the sea. 8 Let all the earth fear the Lord; * let all who dwell in the world stand in awe of God. 9 For God spoke, and it came to pass; * God commanded, and it stood fast.

Green makes me stand I awe.

Green makes me feel everything.

Green makes me want to paint with the color of tulips, butterfly bushes, and dandelions.

Tonight,

            Right now,

                        I see green in the white paws of my puppy.

                        I see green in the aroma of fresh cut grass.

                        I see green in the Spirit renewing the very yard I’ll curse in August.

The prophet got it.

Isaiah 40:8

The grass dries up;

    the flower withers,

    but our God’s word will exist forever.

The green of today reminds me of the promises of God that grow forever.

            Yes, the grass dries up. Faith runs low, too, sometimes.

            Yes, the flower withers. Hope drops its bloom, too, sometimes.

            Yes, the presence of God is as barren as death’s valley.

                                                                                                            Still it endures, too.

Jesus got it.

“If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think God will attend to you, take pride in you, do God’s best for you?”

God loves you.

            Christ loves you.

                        Spirit loves you.

You are in fact, “the riches of creation.”

You are a gift of this New Spring.

Through Stained Glass: Choosing Belief, a sermon

Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon.

“Choosing Belief”

John 14.1-14

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Fifth Sunday of Easter

The truth is, I didn’t always like going to church.

I know that's probably hard to believe since I am a pastor. But it is true. I didn't always go gleefully or even willingly to Bethel Presbyterian Church. As I got older, I bargained with my parents. "If I go to Sunday school, can I stay in the office during the service?" The office was one of the many rooms that had entertainment—a TV and them old school cartoons about Jesus.

Before hanging out in the office, the way I went about arguing to stay out of the sanctuary, so I didn't have to listen to the floating head was to tell my parents that me and the other kids, usually my cousins, would stay in the room with the speaker. That way, while we were playing with the toys in the nursery, which meant throwing the dolls around like footballs, we could hear the message from the pastor. Rarely did they agree, but when they did, it was awesome. For sixty to seventy-five minutes, depending on who was pastor at the time, we were living our best lives in the basement of Bethel. With worship happening upstairs, we were playing hide and seek in the many rooms of the church. Including the dungeon—the part of the church that was once where the good ole days happened but became the cemetery for inoperative ping pong tables, the dwelling place for decorations and ghost from past Christmas pageants, and a cave for bats, and I don't mean the Louisville slugger type. The way we spent those Sunday mornings are some of my favorite memories as a boy.

Oh, and the great Sunday school lessons learned, too.

God’s house has many dwelling mansions.

These are the words Jesus offers to his disciples the night of his arrest. He speaks to them in what scholars call Jesus's farewell discourse. He is speaking to them, probably in an upper room, and telling them what is to happen. Christ is revealing to them that though life is about to change and get pretty scary, the disciples need not let their hearts be troubled. Jesus promises that in the face of his impending death, they need not fear because they know the way to God. It is assuring that Jesus recognizes the anxiety in the disciples and offers a promise to ease it.

It doesn't work, though, does it? Thanks be to God for anxious disciples that name and ask what everyone else in that room and this one is thinking. Thomas asks Jesus for a roadmap: “How can we know the way?”  Philip asks for proof: “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”  What they want — what we all want, if we’re honest — is the religion of the GPS, the five-point plan, the twelve steps, the ten commandments. Like so many of us three months deep in this pandemic, we want to know the best way forward. How do we continue to navigate faithfully through these uncertain times with so many people getting antsy?

The response Jesus gives, well, it is confusing. It is assuring but also confusing. Oh, and difficult. And did I mention confusing? The disciples want a perfect plan that includes a clear explanation of the phases of what will happen to them once Jesus goes to this place they aren't sure they've ever seen before. Instead, they get Jesus. No LINK articles. No roadmap. No instruction manual. No five-phase plan. Just himself. Just his compassion, his tenderness, his intimacy, and his love. They get what he has offered to them from the beginning: a relationship rooted in trust, patience, and vulnerability. 

What they got is what we get, too. We don't get easy answers or a quick fix. Jesus never offers that, and neither does God. What Jesus does offer is the promise that what we need to endure the darkest of days and sustain us during the uncertain season we have already seen: the love of God in Christ poured out by the Spirit onto the people of God. The disciples are then encouraged to do the works of Christ, that is, to make way for the reign of God. Christ tells them that in God's house, there are many dwelling places and does so to remind them that there is plenty of room for all of God's people. The caveat though, is that he wasn't talking about the afterlife only. Jesus extends the abiding relationship between Jesus and the Father into a relationship that we may now enter into also. The author reminds the disciples, and us, that Christ's abiding with God did not start when he died. Instead, it was a description of how he embodied the love of God. 

The same is true for us, too. The life of faith is not about where we live in the ‘afterlife,’ but where we live in the present. What we know from the promise Jesus makes is the truth that we abide in God always and forever. Nothing about God is exclusive—not even the place where God dwells. Jesus as the way, the truth, and the life reveal to us that in Christ, we participate in the life of God and experience life eternal.

Here's the good news, friends. We need not be afraid no matter what we experience because we abide in God, who abides in us. Christ revealed to us the way, the truth, and the life that leads to an abundant life. Remember, Jesus came not to create a rigid religion, nor did he develop blueprints for church buildings. Instead, Jesus offered his presence to God's people and said, go and do likewise. Thus, the greater works we will do will occur beyond the walls of the church, and in the relationships, we build with each other, strangers and enemies, friends, and neighbors.

My most memorable moments as a child growing up in church didn't come from sitting through sermons, nor was I ever really moved by the songs the choir sang. Instead, the way, the truth, and the life Christ spoke of I found with my friends and my family, running through the halls of God's house and hiding in the many rooms while we played ghosts in the graveyard. Why? Because we come to know God when we seek and honor the Risen Christ in everyone we meet. When we get to know people, we come to know the Divine. The house of God is all the world and includes all the people.

The truth, though, getting to a life lived this way, is challenging. It isn't easy. Especially in precarious times like the one we live in now. But we know the way, and it is demanding. The way is dangerous. The way takes time. But the invitation of this Gospel is still a proclamation to the assurance of Christ’s promise. Not because we're specialists at finding God, but because God has always and already found us. With every unknowing we embrace, God sees us one more time.

""In my Father's house there are many dwelling places," Jesus tells his sorrowing disciples. Meaning: God is roomy. God is generous. God is hospitable. God can handle your doubts, your fears, and your questions. And God's offer of belonging extends far beyond the confines of this mortal life. "I go and prepare a place for you," Jesus says as he stands in the shadow of his cross. You have a place with me. You have a home with God. You have a place."

Faith may not come easy. These days, it might be challenged. The promise of the Gospel, however, is that no matter the size of our faith, when we choose belief, we the Way is open before us. Somewhere along the way, whether in a spectacular sermon or a verse from a VBS song, we know the way to God is through love. We know it.  We know Jesus, and because we know Jesus, we know God.  The Way will safely bear us home.  Do not let your hearts be troubled.