Through Stained Glass: As God Was Then, So God is Now--a sermon

 

"As God Was Then, So God is Now"

Matthew 5.1-12

Sunday, November 1, 2020

All Saints' Day

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.

Growing up, I loved Halloween. Not only because of the candy but mostly because I got to dress up as my favorite superheroes. It was Batman one year, the next, it was my favorite baseball player, and another year I went as The Crow. 

Halloween is the one day [before covid] where we were encouraged to wear masks. Gen-Z folx probably still remember their little faces on fire after spending a night breathing through plastic masks while the rubber band wrapped around their head dug into their scalp. It is also a bit bizarre that it takes a night wearing masks [before covid] to get us out to visit with our neighbors.

How we celebrate Halloween now isn't unlike how it began in the Celtic tradition. All Hallows Eve was a night when the community would gather around a bonfire, dress up to ward off ghosts and tell stories of those they loved who have died. Eventually, it became the Church holiday known as All Saints' Day, which we celebrate today, November 1. 

At First Presbyterian Church, All Saints' Day is a time when we make space to remember the saints in our lives. Of course, by saints, we mean those who have gone before us. We remember our spouses and significant others; our loved ones and best friends, and we remember those who, even in the smallest ways, had a role in shaping who we are as a person. As a church, we rejoice for those on whose shoulders we stand who had the vision of ministry. We give thanks for the faithful stewardship of their hearts, hands, and resources. Because of their saying 'yes' to God, we can continue God's ministry today. 

Ultimately, All Saints' Day reminds us that we are part of one continuing, living communion of saints. We express gratitude for all who in ages of darkness kept the faith, for prophetic voices who have called the church to be faithful in life and service, for all who have witnessed God's justice and peace in every nation. All Saints' Day points our attention back to God, who sends the church into the world to offer good news! 

We must not forget that us living saints still have work to do. And yes, I mean work. The Church is Christ's body on earth. What does this mean, pastor? It means to commit as a community to living faithfully as God's agents of love. Where do we turn to find out how to do this? We begin with the Beatitudes. If you're like me, even after reading the Beatitudes as long as I have, they still throw me off. Why? Because they go against everything society teaches us. More than that, the Beatitudes are not transactional, nor are they commandments, and neither are they moral injunctions. Instead, they are God's normal. They are Christ's reality.

What are the implications of the Beatitudes for us today? First, they challenge us to ask fundamental questions. We may want to ask, "What am I doing to warrant God's blessing?" The Beatitudes, which are from the inaugural address from Jesus, push us beyond our comfort zone to ask, "Do I trust God's description of reality as accurate?" In a culture that promotes selfishness over selflessness, individualization over the community, the Beatitudes could better bother us. 

In the Beatitudes, Jesus claims that the poor, the mournful, the meek, the hungry, the merciful, the pure-hearted, the peaceful, and the persecuted are "blessed." They are the fortunate ones. The lucky ones. The ones whose lives align with the heart and character of God. They are the ones who will enter heaven, experience comfort, inherit the earth, be filled, receive mercy, see God, and be called the children of God.

How does this contrast to how our current reality defines 'blessed?'

Here's the thing, friends. God's 'normal' is not the normal we know. We exist in a world where the loudest, strongest, wealthiest, and most privileged people prey on the "less fortunate." We live in a world where greed and selfishness pay big time, while meekness, mercy, and mournfulness earn little more than contempt. 

I think Frederick Buechner captures the contrast between realities beautifully. He writes, "The world says, ‘Mind your own business,’ and Jesus says, ‘There is no such thing as your own business.’ The world says, ‘Follow the wisest course and be a success,’ and Jesus says, ‘Follow me and be crucified.’ The world says, ‘Drive carefully — the life you save may be your own’ — and Jesus says, ‘Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.’ The world says, ‘Law and order,’ and Jesus says, ‘Love.’ The world says, ‘Get’ and Jesus says, ‘Give.’ In terms of the world's sanity, Jesus is crazy as a coot, and anybody who thinks he can follow him without being a little crazy too is laboring less under a cross than under a delusion."

The Beatitudes remind us that as Christ's body, we are to offer a different reality. We are to bring God's reign on earth as it is in heaven. Jesus announces a prophetic blessing—using words that indicate its reality and its fulfillment in the future. The blessing is here; God's favor is now.  But its completion — its perfection — still lies ahead.

The exciting reality is that we get to work with God in bringing about the fulfillment of the Beatitudes. One way we do this is how we, as a church, get to help in the world's unmasking. I know what you're thinking; this sounds a bit dramatic. It isn't. Here's what I mean. One of my favorite writers and theologians once said, "To be a saint means to be myself." He used the analogy of a tree. A tree was created by God to be a tree. When they are a tree, they give glory to God. The difference between a tree and us is that we have a choice—to be ourselves or to be something entirely different. 

Thomas Merton says, "We are at liberty to be real or to be unreal. We may be true or false, the choice is ours. We may wear now one mask and now another, and never, if we so desire, appear with our true face." We don't need to wear masks to attain our worth. Instead, our worth is beneath all the personas we put on to fit in. God loves you as you are right now. God calls each of us to help lift the negative messages that mislead people into thinking they aren't enough off the backs of each other. God doesn't need another Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., or some other saint from our lives. God needs, wants, and desires you! 

Today is a special day in the life of the church. We remember those who have completed their baptism and give thanks for their witness to God. It is also the day we are a part of a great cloud of witnesses—surrounded by both the saints in heaven and the living saints on earth. We get to co-create with God in bringing about a new reality—one where we can live freely as our most real selves. 

This freedom is what God wants. Freedom in Christ means we are free to be ourselves. The Spirit poured out onto us at our baptism gifts us this freedom. And this is what we, by the power of the Holy Spirit, must continue to do. When we do, we will realize that our blessings come not in wealth, health, and happiness. No, we will find our blessings in the wants for peace, mercy, and justice. In bearing witness to the wanting found in the Beatitudes, we will discover we have all that we will ever need—community.

The best part of this work? No masks are required [except during a pandemic]! 

Through Stained Glass: A Sunday Morning Meditation

Take a moment to center yourself.

 

If you have your candle, light it at this time. As you do pray, “I welcome you into my presence, Triune God. Encircle me into your Love.”

 

Watch the flame and rest in the presence of God our Creator; Christ our Redeemer; and the Holy Spirit our Sustainer.

 

Breathe in God’s lovingkindness. Breathe out your worries.

Breathe in Christ’s compassion. Breathe out your hurts.

Breathe in the Spirit’s gentleness. Breathe out your negativity.

 

Rest in the silence of this moment. Watch the candle flicker. Give praise to God for this morning.

 

Meditation 1                                       Thirst by Mary Oliver

 

Another morning and I wake with thirst

for the goodness I do not have. I walk

out to the pond and all the way God has

given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,

I was never a quick scholar but sulked

and hunched over my books past the hour

and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,

a little more time. Love for the earth

and love for you are having such a long

conversation in my heart. Who knows what

will finally happen or where I will be sent,

yet already I have given a great many things

away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,

except the prayers which, with this thirst,

I am slowy learning.

 

Silently reflect on these words.

 

What goodness do you thirst for this morning?

 

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

 

Meditation 2                                                   Psalm 63

 

63 God—you’re my God!

    I can’t get enough of you!

I’ve worked up such hunger and thirst for God,

    traveling across dry and weary deserts.

 

2-4 So here I am in the place of worship, eyes open,

    drinking in your strength and glory.

In your generous love I am really living at last!

    My lips brim praises like fountains.

I bless you every time I take a breath;

    My arms wave like banners of praise to you.

 

5-8 I eat my fill of prime rib and gravy;

    I smack my lips. It’s time to shout praises!

If I’m sleepless at midnight,

    I spend the hours in grateful reflection.

Because you’ve always stood up for me,

    I’m free to run and play.

I hold on to you for dear life,

    and you hold me steady as a post.

 

Silently reflect on this psalm.

 

When is the last time you longed for something or someone? Maybe it was a partner far away by necessity or a child across the country in school or a long-deceased parent. This type of longing is born out of a relationship of love and support. A relationship full of memories and moments shared. This psalm invites us into that same longing for our God. Its first words are personal, “O God, you are my God.”

 

Meditation 3                                                   Exodus 17

 

Before you read the scripture this morning, invite the Spirit to illumine your heart with this prayer:

Give us your Spirit of wisdom, O God, so that we might hear your Word speaking through the scriptures with ears that understand, and hearts filled with love. Amen.

 

Exodus 17.1-7

17 1-2 Directed by God, the whole company of Israel moved on by stages from the Wilderness of Sin. They set camp at Rephidim. And there wasn’t a drop of water for the people to drink. The people took Moses to task: “Give us water to drink.” But Moses said, “Why pester me? Why are you testing God?”

 

3 But the people were thirsty for water there. They complained to Moses, “Why did you take us from Egypt and drag us out here with our children and animals to die of thirst?”

 

4 Moses cried out in prayer to God, “What can I do with these people? Any minute now they’ll kill me!”

 

5-6 God said to Moses, “Go on out ahead of the people, taking with you some of the elders of Israel. Take the staff you used to strike the Nile. And go. I’m going to be present before you there on the rock at Horeb. You are to strike the rock. Water will gush out of it and the people will drink.”

 

6-7 Moses did what he said, with the elders of Israel right there watching. He named the place Massah (Testing-Place) and Meribah (Quarreling) because of the quarreling of the Israelites and because of their testing of God when they said, “Is God here with us, or not?”

 

The Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

 

Silently reflect on the passage.

 

Each of us comes to worship thirsting for something that only God can satisfy. We thirst for connection. We thirst for peace. We thirst for acceptance. We thirst for meaning. We thirst for justice. We thirst for__________.

 

Take a moment and search what it is you’re thirsting for this day.

 

“It strikes me (pun intended!) that God chooses to bring water -- and the life it symbolizes and will impart -- out of something that appears to be lifeless. This may be symbolic of God's intentions to bring the people life, not death, as they suspect. Out of Egypt and out of the wilderness, God will find ways to make life flow in unexpected ways. But it will require a certain amount of trust from the people, a willingness to put faith in a god who seems not to do things in the typical way.” Amy Ericson, Working Preacher

 

How might God be calling you to bring life to the community in a new or unexpected way?

 

Are you willing to let Christ give you living water? Are you strong enough to let Christ tend to the wounds pride inflicts? Will you allow Christ to bring you healing in and through something new?

 

 

Meditation 4                                       One Day by David Whyte

 

“One day I will

say

the gift I once had

has been taken,

the place I have

made for myself

belongs to another,

and the words I have sung

are being sung by the ones

I would want.

 

Then I will be ready

for that voice

and the still silence

in which it arrives.

 

And if my faith is good

then we’ll meet again

on the road

and we’ll be thirsty,

and stop

and laugh

and drink together again

from the deep well

of things as they are.

 

...”

Are the wells you have always drunk from low? Perhaps one is empty. Where might you find a new well of living water to quench your thirst? Are you ready to trust God to bring you something different?

The Closing Practice

Friends, God listens to us. In the wilderness of life, God will never abandon us. Even when we attempt to satisfy our deepest thirsts with things that'll only leave us more thirsty, God will provide us living water. If you are able, go outdoors flat stones. Each stone should be smooth and at least three inches wide. If you’d like, you can paint them. Once the paint is dry use a fine point marker like a Sharpie to write “I’m listening” on each rock. Place the rocks somewhere in your home where they will serve as a reminder that God listens to us each time we speak. While God may not always respond by bringing water out of a rock, we can be assured that we have been heard and we will be cared for.

Friends, you are loved by God. Before you go to serve God in the world, take one last moment to rest in God's presence. Focus on your breathing. Then, when you are ready, breathe out the promise of God's liberating love and extinguish your candle. 

Go in peace.

 

Through Stained Glass: When We Thirst--God Provides, a sermon

"I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb.
Strike the rock, and water will come out of it,
so that the people may drink." Exodus 17.6

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.

“When We Thirst—God Gives Us Water”

Exodus 17.1-7

16^th Sunday After Pentecost Year A

 

I could feel something happening to me.  My body began to feel strange.  My lips were dry, my mouth parched.  Above me in the sky, the August sun bore down: I could feel it turning my skin pink.  Sweat drenched my back, staining the hat I wore on my head.  For what seemed like hours, I was in the sun: running, playing, and practicing over and over and over.  My body was exhausted, my head was pounding, and by this point, my eyes weren't seeing so straight.  If only we could stop.   If only we could take a break: after all, this was dangerous, practicing this long in the hot sun on this dusty baseball field without a break.  But I knew better than to ask the coach, or even complain about being thirsty. I began to internally lament my choices: how I wished I was at home in the air-conditioning, surrounded by sodas and bags of chips, and most importantly, out from underneath the scorching sun. 

            Finally, the word came.  Our activity stopped.  We went to the watering hole (which was a giant Gatorade jug), and from it, we drank deeply.  From this water, we regained our energy.  Our dry lips turned bright red.  Our dried mouths ached when the cold water hit our teeth. After much-needed hydration, I could think and see straighter and be more fully present.

Upon temporarily relieving our exhaustion, we headed back out to the baseball field's dusty wilderness and resumed business as usual.

            While there are mysteries in the world that still stump scientists, we know one thing for sure, all living things need water. Water is essential to our bodies.  60% of our bodies, 70% of our brains, and 80% of our blood is water.  Without it, we could only survive one, maybe two weeks at most.

                  It is no wonder then that Israelites 'grumbled' against Moses when they settled down in Rephidim (which means "resting places") to find out that there was not enough water to go around.  "Give us water to drink."  Water is all they needed. Yes, the pillar of fire and the cloud of smoke had just guided them; yes, they had just had their bellies filled with quail and manna from heaven; and yes, they knew that even though the waters at Marah were bitter, they were made sweet by the wood Moses threw into it.  But now they found themselves in a part of the wilderness where the wells were almost, if not entirely, dry.  The expectations of the people were bitterly disappointed.  The myth of security in Egypt was more appealing than the aimless leadership from Moses.

Before we criticize our ancestors, we must remember that they did not have gallons of water available at their convenience or disposal, unlike us. Their concerns, their 'grumblings,' were entirely legitimate.  As we discussed, water is essential to survival, rather than a mere convenience or luxury.  So, why wouldn't the Israelites begin to long for the days when at least they had steady access to food and water, even if this was within the context of forced labor?  This situation must have been unfathomably desperate; they must have entered so deep into the wilderness of despair that they would have sacrificed their freedom for water. 

            Thanks be to God, that even though the people grumbled against Moses and God, God does what God does best, which is to remain faithful to God’s people.  In their state of fear and terror, the Israelites were not afraid to call out to their leaders and bluntly ask, “In this journey, in this wilderness where we find ourselves:  where is God in the midst of this?”  Although the people did not ask to leave Egypt, they seemed to have forgotten that this was not Moses' idea, either. Instead, it was God who led the people out of the false-security Egypt offered and into the wilderness to discover again who God promised them to be.  This movement out of the pharaoh's death grip does not mean that God inflicted this wilderness upon them to 'teach' them a lesson.  No:  instead, God listened to their cries, in humility liberated them, and in hope, led them to their true identity--God's chosen nation. God sustains them along the way with manna from heaven and water from rocks. Notably, sustenance came not by remaining where they were, but by moving toward the next place toward the direction of God's promise.

Moses went with the elders to Sinai, a place of holiness, and brought back a foretaste of that which was to come. In this narrative, sustaining water came from the mountain where God's people would receive that which sustains their spiritual selves: the Torah, the Law.  On this mountain, the people ate and drank both physical and spiritual food in God's presence.

 I think it is safe to say that we can identify with the congregation at Rephidim, recalling the times in our own lives when fear and doubt have gripped us.  As hard as it may be to admit, I think some of us, if not all of us, have 'quarreled' against God, and at least with those who we call our leaders.  We are not that much different from our wandering brothers and sisters.  We, too, have had our moments where instead of embracing our faith, we succumb to our fears, and instead of trusting, we begin to grow suspicious. Like the Israelites, we cannot ignore the horror of our thirsts; it is difficult to deter ourselves from our preference for our own 'Egypt' of death, darkness, and despair in the wilderness of life when this bondage at least represents security and familiarity.

            In some seasons, we can see God's face and know that God goes with us: in the same way, we go through seasons when our entire being aches for but one drop of water.  Why, then, do we test the Holy One?  Because we know that if God is who God says God is, God can most definitely handle us in our entirety, which includes both our times of strong faith AND our legitimate doubts.

Friends, if there is but one theme to hold onto during this repetitive rendition of the exodus story, it is this:  God cares deeply for each of us and helps move us from places of fear and doubt to places of trust. In today's story, it strikes me [pun intended] that God chooses to bring water—and the life it symbolizes and will impart—out of something that appears to be lifeless. If only they could have seen what we see now that a promise is reiterated in this act, the security that God intends to bring the people life, not death, as they suspect.

 Whether it is out of Egypt and out of the wilderness, out of depression and out of a failed marriage, out of sadness and out of the death of a loved one, God has, God is, and God will find ways to make life flow in unexpected ways. It will require a certain amount of trust, a willingness to put faith in a God who seems not to do things in a typical way.

Let us no longer worry that our thirst is too much for God.  Friends, let us put aside our concern that God will not provide for us.  Let us reorient our lives so that our contentment comes not from the days of the past, but emerges from the hope of the future.  The good news in all of this, friends, is that God is in the midst of our wilderness. God stands amid our lives, creating beauty that looks scorched and barren and fills our oases with water that will never leave us thirsting for more.  

            Teresa of Avila once said, “Let nothing disturb you, nothing dismay you: All things are passing, God never changes.  Patient endurance attains all things.  God alone suffices.”  

            Church, from which pools do we drink?  For which water do you thirst? 

May you often return to the water coolers of life, always reminded of the sufficient Living Water God offers to us.

Amen.

 

 

Through Stained Glass: Painting Pictures of Egypt

 

Hey, how are you doing?

 

No, like, really—how are you doing?

 

It is okay to take off your mask—the one that has that painted on smile, the one that says, “I’m fine.”

 

Are you tired?

            Are you ‘over it’?

                        Are you anxious?

                                    Are you ‘hanging in there?’

                                                Are you ready to get back to normal?

                                                            Are you (insert whatever it is you are)….

 

I am all the things—and then some.

 

At times I have found myself longing for what normal was before COVID. I make statements about how I’m adapting to the new normal. And then I dream about what the next normal will be—in all its newness.

 

But then I read the Exodus story—and I see the Israelites wandering in the wilderness in their new normal—and they complain. I feel like them a lot of days. Then I remember something: Nostalgic longing for a misremembered history is a powerful and dangerous force, especially in an environment of scarcity and adversity. Their reality has changed, and the current 'new normal' isn't leaving them satisfied. So they do what anyone does when a negative experience impacts us, they complain. 

Amid their longing for 'the good old days,' God delivers them, fights for them, and then provides for them. God says, “You are more than what pharaoh limited you to be. Your worth isn't based on the number of bricks you produce in a day.” God gifts them precisely what they need as they move towards freedom. 

That's the thing about God--She isn't static. God isn't interested in remaining comfortable or preserving what's normal. God is dynamic, progressing God's creation towards the promise of restoration, and invites all the universe into the Divine Dance that is the Trinity. At the very least, the first two books of the Bible reveal this to us--that when things become normal, we better be ready to move!

It is easy to romanticize the past when things are hard. Right now, we are in a hard season. But the current reality is offering us an opportunity to evaluate what truly matters to us. We have been given the gift to create new rhythms and practices that return us to God. More importantly, I believe this current season gives us permission to let God love us as we are—without all the normal expectations put on us by ourselves or others. Maybe we long for Egypt because we could blend in better, and there wasn’t much required of us. Or, as the song suggests, we want Egypt’s normal because the things we’ve learned about ourselves [individually and communally] no longer fit with reality and, we know we have to change.

We can do hard things. 

Whether you're painting pictures of Egypt or packing your bag in anticipation of the new terrain that awaits us, God is with us--delivering, fighting, and providing for us exactly what we need. 

How am I doing? Better. Because I have God, I have you, and I have enough to get through this day.

Through Stained Glass: When Things change--We Pay Attention, a sermon

 

“When Things Change—We Pay Attention”

Exodus 3.1-15

Sunday, August 30, 2020

 

When things change, it is essential to pay attention.

If we aren't paying attention, if instead, we are too distracted, we will miss what is happening.

Attention is the key to so many things in our life. We have to pay attention to walk across the street. We know our relationships are more satisfying if we pay attention to one another. Our business affairs require our attention.

Paying attention is noticing and being with something without trying to change it. Attention takes the time to explore fully, discover whatever there is to know about something and watch as things change by themselves without our trying to 'fix" anything. Attention is patient, and attention is kind. No rush. No burden. No criticism. If we intend to fix or change or reject something, we minimize our capacity to pay attention to what is happening.

Paying attention. We could say that's what's happening in Exodus up to this point. The midwives paid attention to what was happening, had compassion, and saved the Hebrew boys.

Next, pharaoh's daughter came down to the river, saw what was happening, notices baby Moses in a little ark, has compassion, and took action to save Moses.

In today's text, we read of how God sees and hears the Hebrew people's cries—the oppression from the pharaoh on God's people does not escape God. God took action to save God's people. What God did is what the pharaoh's daughter did to Moses. God hears the cries, God has compassion, and God acts. Are you paying attention to what is happening in this story? God is not interested in the empire with its unjust practices. God does not see and hear pharaoh, the perpetrator of the oppression of the Hebrew people. Instead, like with Hagar, God sees God's people's misery brought upon the implementation of a system that sought to dehumanize and oppress. God sees, and God hears the people—part of who God is a God who sees and hears the people in need.

Finally, we see Moses in the same situation. Moses kept watch over his father-in-law's flock when he entered into a wasteland—literally what Horeb means. In this wasteland, an angel of God appears to Moses in a burning bush. The best part of this interaction, and perhaps this story, is that Moses was not expecting to encounter God—hence the irony of the wasteland wilderness where this event takes place. God calls to Moses through the bush, and later with his voice. Moses responds appropriately, "Here I am." God gives urgent directions to recognize the sacredness. Only afterward, God identifies God’s self as the God of the patriarchs. And Moses acknowledges through covering his face. Moses did not wake up that day and decide that he would lead the Israelites out of their oppression back to the land of Canaan. That was God’s decision, but Moses responded to the unexpected call appropriately—for the time being.

And now, Moses must pay attention to what God is saying.

And we do too, for that matter, for in this next scene, we see God's heart and for whom God is most concerned.  

Just as pharaoh's daughter saves Moses, God calls Moses to do the same for God's people. God continues to speak, offering compassion in hearing the misery and the cries on account of oppression. To make sure we get the point about God's compassion, the author reiterates how God "knows their suffering."  A few verses only cover the enormous period of time from the patriarchs to Moses, but God was there. And even though God was silent, God was neither distant nor detached. God had great compassion for the oppression that the people endured. And the burning bush informs our reading of the bold declaration of God that God will deliver the people into “a land flowing with milk and honey.” God remembers God’s covenant and promises to sustain the people just as God can sustain the bush.

Now comes the most relatable interaction in the Bible. God calls Moses and Moses objects. Moses asks, "Who am I that you will send me to pharaoh?" How many of us have had the same thought, right? Yet, and this is important, God does not assure Moses as a leader because of his natural skill nor charisma. Instead, God assures Moses because God is faithful. Moses' faults will not matter, as God promises him, "I will be with you" (verse 12). And if that assurance is not enough, God sends a sign to solidify Moses' calling. The confidence is not in his human abilities, but in the God who sends him.

The final scene in our story is when God gives God's name to Moses. He wants to know how he will justify to the people why they should leave, and God says, "I AM WHO I AM. Thus, you shall say to the Israelites, 'I AM has sent me to you." We could spend all year trying to figure out what exactly this "I AM' name means. And while it would be a fruitful and fun study, we must pay attention to the story at hand and what is unfolding before us. Which is this:

God hears the cries and sees the misery of God's people. God is paying attention to the ways the empire is treating the Hebrew people. God acts because God remembers God's covenant and promise to God's people—God acts with compassion and calls a stammering shepherd to lead God's people out of slavery. In God's naming, God is giving to Moses what Moses needed to hear: that God is the one who causes things to pass. God is one who delivers on God's promises. God is the one who will be present in faithful ways to make possible what is not otherwise possible.

God pays attention to detail. When God saw the oppression of God’s people, God could no longer sit idly by. God took action because God remembered God's covenant with the people. Part of our role as people called by God is to see and remember. See the pain in the world that God would want us to heal and remember that God is in our midst. We first have to pay attention. We have to notice as God noticed—we must see the misery and listen to the cries of the people. 

Friends, to notice, or pay attention, is the first step toward embodying compassion, toward enacting God's love in the world—or justice. One cannot care for what one has yet to notice—to love is not to trample over but to notice and tend to, which is what is happening in this text today. We see the heart and concern of God—and it is compassion for the most vulnerable.

Today's text is also one that invites us to pay attention to each other. The story invites you to put down your cell phone and stand barefoot in your backyard while considering how the ground and the moment are holy. Friends, we need to remove our shoes more and pay attention to the world around us, for it permits us to listen to others' voices and experiences—and it reminds us that curiosity is a holy gift. Perhaps the best gift we can give to each other right now is our undivided attention. 

Think about it, how often is our experience of the Divine connected with us taking the time to ask a person, or even a place, what is your story? Please tell me who you are and let me into your life. When we connect in this way, our attention goes beyond the surface level of relationships, and we engage in an intimate sharing of our lives. Our curiosity deepens our connection. As we give our neighbor and our place our undivided attention, we open ourselves up to a burning bush moment—encountering the Divine in each other and our places.

So, church, what are you paying attention to these days?

Better yet, what will you pay attention to moving forward? Where might you remove your shoes to encounter the Divine? Where in your life or who in your life is need of compassion? How is God calling you to stand up and speak out for those treated as less than human?

I can’t answer these questions for you. But I can invite you to pay attention—because when you do, especially when things change, chances are you’ll slow down just enough to notice how God isn’t as far off as you think. God might be as close as your favorite burning bush.

May it be so. Amen.

Through Stained Glass: A word about our Little Library of Love

“The Spirit gives us courage . . . to witness to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in church and culture, to hear the voices of people long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace.” The Brief Statement of Faith

Siblings in Christ, this is a day of rejoicing. We come together to celebrate and dedicate this new addition, our Little Library of Love, its purpose, it’s place, and it’s presence in our community. 

As we gather, let us open our hearts and minds to receive God’s Wisdom with faith, hope, and love.

We gather to celebrate the addition of a new ministry to our church. Our Little Library of Love is but one of many little libraries in Lincoln. What sets ours apart is that we include not only books but also art supplies and essential hygiene goods. As Presbyterians, we recognize the power of knowledge and how education through reading can transform not only our hearts and renew our minds. We also know the power of creativity and how it can facilitate community, leading to a deeper connection with each other and with God. Finally, we know that loving others begins by loving ourselves. To help in this often overlooked practice, we provide necessary hygiene products that will help us feel good about our physical bodies.

Our Little Library of Love is for everyone. We encourage you to take a book, leave a book, grab some crayons and paint, create something beautiful to give away, and celebrate your body by loving it! Our Little Library of Love is one more way to love God with all our heart, mind, and strength. 

Today we give thanks for this new little library. We offer thanks for Keith Leesman and Dale Meier, Rotary friends who put this idea into motion and installed it, with Bob Chamberlain’s help, this last Thursday. We thank those who provided the first round of books, art supplies, and body products. And we thank those who will continue to support this transforming box of education, creativity, and love. 

Friends today is a good day for the life of our church. Our little library declares that we value literacy while taking a step to see that all people have access to free books. Our books will be for all ages—because we recognize that the more we know, the more we can bring the reign of God on earth as it is in heaven. Scripture tells us that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word of God empowers and liberates, inspires, and offers life to all of God’s creation. May the words found in this little library breathe newness into those who come here and invite them into renewing the world through the renewal of their minds!

When we must maintain social distance and limit our interactions with others, we include supplies because we know the power of art in shaping our future. May the art we create help spread a message of inspiration, helping each other achieve great things while laying the foundation to the possibility of another world--one rooted in imagination and creation seeking justice and peace. May our art be a form of communication between people, to focus on common issues for the betterment of humanity. 

Teresa of Avila said Christ has no body now on earth but ours. In Matthew 25, Christ commands the church to take care of the basic needs of God’s family—especially the vulnerable. In our little library of love are essential hygiene products. It is but one way we can help each other care of our bodies and feel better about ourselves. May those who come here for help receive the care they need and know deep in their bones, they are loved and cherished by the God of the universe.

Dear friends, it is with joy that we gather to consecrate and dedicate this little library to God's glory and the strengthening of God’s reign in this community. We are grateful for the opportunity to provide this addition to enhance our community's life, deepened, and enriched through the books, the art supplies, and the everyday goods found here. 

Finally, to the Teacher of Galilee, who draws all peoples unto himself for instruction and renewal, we offer this little library to the ministry of this church—that it might inspire wisdom and knowledge, invigorate creativity through art, and soothe the body of Christ through self-care and personal love.

As the quote from The Brief Statement of Faith suggests in the photo above, may this Little Library of Love transform minds, hearts, and spirits, so that justice, freedom, and peace may dwell throughout our city.

Thanks be to God for this library!

Thank you to Keith Leesman for initiating this project. 

Through Stained Glass: A Walk Through My Garden

It does not escape me that my name is Adam. Growing up, I heard all the terrible garden jokes. Folx would ask me, "Hey, Adam, what are you growing this year?" Or, "Hey, Adam, how is Eve?" Garden talk has always been a part of my experience. 

The garden talk didn't stop with my name. 

My grandparents had extensive gardens at their homestead in London Mills. I believe after my grandpa had a severe heart attack, he and my grandma wanted to 'move to the country.' Whether or not the garden was a part of their vision, they always had one, and subsequently would be a part of my vision. 

One of my memories of those gardens is when I was real little. There is a home video out there of me walking dejectedly through one of their gardens dragging a whiffle ball bat crying. My dad, who was videotaping, asked me, "Hey, Duke [my nickname]. What's wrong?" I reply with big crocodile tears falling from my eyes, and a little bit of drama, "Doze tids [I couldn't pronounce my k's] won't let me play wif them." While I'm sure my grandma would have comforted me, she probably would have made a point to let me know that I didn't have to walk through her plants.  I remember their gardens and the way their corn would tower over me and the many jams they'd sell during different roadside events. Their gardens were paradise for me.

I have a garden now. And I've managed to produce some decent tomatoes, okra, and peppers. Eating *fruit* from my own garden is special. It is a miracle.

Yet the plants that bring me the most joy are the flowers. Most of which I didn't even plant. Rose of Sharon's, Trumpet flowers, a Hibiscus plant I purchased at Ace on clearance, and sunflowers--volunteers [and the ones I actually did sow myself]. These little bursts of beauties bring me so much joy. When it isn't so hot out, I like to end my day throwing a tennis ball to Tecumseh while walking from one group to the next. I talk to them. I listen to them between barks from the dog and chirps from the Robins. They are lovely creatures who teach me a lot about being. 

Watching them, I discover daily that they give glory to God by being flowers. It reminds me of that Merton quote, "A tree gives glory to God by being a tree. For in being what God means it to be it is obeying Him….The more a tree is like itself, the more it is like [God]...."

After I commune with the flowers, I take their pictures. I have so many pictures of flowers on my phone, but they change every day. These singers in God's choir of creation teach me about life and death, holding on and letting go. Their lives remind me of what Jesus says,

As the flowers fade, God's love remains. Always.

My flower garden isn't much.

My flower garden is by no means anything compared to Monet's Giverny. [I've been there!]

But flowers like this little one hang out outside in my backyard.

I look out my windows and see this beauty in all its glory. 

Their sunny faces opening up to me and greeting me with joy.

And these will be the photos I return to when the nights last longer than the days. 

These are the offerings of hope I'll return to when the darkness gets too much, and I'll remember what they taught me: even when things are dark, light and love will soon bloom once more. 

At that moment, it'll be enough. I'll know peace--I'll experience paradise.

And visions of my garden will remind me that I too am enough--precisely as I am. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Take heart, friends. God's love is everlasting. And that is the best news!