reallifepastor

            It’s felt good recently to begin reclaiming my evangelistic “Baptist” preaching voice.  While the message I preach as a UCC pastor is very different from what I heard growing up, the fervor and passion I felt from those sermons is creeping into my own.  And, yes.  It’s felt good…

             …or it did…until yesterday during Sunday School when I heard comments about my preaching of late.  “You keep telling these stories about people who are making such a big difference!  What?  Am I supposed to go out and save the life of someone who’s dying (like the people in the story I told yesterday)?  It just feels like too much!”  Others tried to comfort the person by saying, “You can make a difference simply by the way you live your life.  It doesn’t have to be anything extravagant or extreme.”  And there’s one person—God bless her!—who’s always quick to remind us:  “Living the Christian life doesn’t have to be hard.”

             The teacher in me loves that the sermon was provocative enough—or at least the illustration I used was—that people expressed their feelings about it and that, as a group, the participants were able to reflect deeply about their faith.  The teacher in me was pleased.

            But the preacher in me?  Yikes.  I had forgotten to whom I was preaching.  The people in the congregation I serve are very faithful.  They try hard to follow Jesus.  They live their faith as authentically and deeply as they know how.  There’s not a pretentious person in the lot. 

             How do you preach to people who are so genuinely good?  How do you challenge people who work hard to live their faith and still—after working really hard—despair about all they still aren’t doing?  How do you preach to the guilt-prone? 

             I asked my psychotherapist husband that question yesterday afternoon.  His response:  Don’t focus so much on challenging them to share God’s love.  Help them to receive God’s love.

             It was a short response, but rang true.  Another person in yesterday’s conversation said that helping others is not a problem for her.  It’s asking for help that’s difficult.  A lot of people nodded their heads.  Perhaps the real challenge for these ardent and hard-working disciples is to remind them—and keep reminding them—that the good news is for them, too.  God loves them, too.  God’s grace is for them, too…

             …and perhaps even for their guilt-prone pastor!

 One fact remains that does not change:  God has loved you, loves you now, and will always love you.  This is the good news that brings us new life.  Thanks be to God!

On the face of it, this is just another healing story.  By the time the man with leprosy approaches him at the end of Mark 1, Jesus already has healed tons of people, including a demon-possessed man and a disciple’s mother-in-law.  Jesus has healed so many people, in fact, that last week, he had to get away for some quiet time of prayer and renewal.

This healing, though, is different.  This time we get a glimpse of what Jesus is feeling.  The word used in the original Greek text is splanchnizomai.  There’s no exact translation in English, but in the old Greek the splanchna referred to the upper organs—the heart, liver, lungs…the location, it was thought, of the emotions.  Makes sense.  When we’re surprised, what does it do?  It takes our breath away.  Where do nervous butterflies flutter?  In our stomachs.  When old Fred Sanford got a shock, where did it hit him?  In his heart.  The blogger who used the word splanchna to coo to his sweetie, “I love you with all my bowels?” I think, technically, he got it a little too low.

But you get the picture, right?  If you’re in your splanchna, you’re in a place of deep emotion.  But what kind of emotion?  Translators are all over the place with how to render splanchnizomai in English.  The NRSV translates it “moved with pity.”  Others translate it “compassion.”  The NIV translates it:  “Jesus was indignant.”  Indignant.  How can the same word be translated compassionate and indignant?  And which translation is more accurate?  It’s obvious that Jesus is worked up in this scene, but how is he worked up?  Is he feeling deep compassion for the man or is he indignant?  And if he’s indignant, about what is he indignant?  Let’s look at the text a little more closely to see if we can figure it out.

“A man with leprosy…”  Let’s stop there.  A man who was a Jew—and that’s what we’re assuming because, to this point in Mark’s gospel, Jesus is staying pretty close to synagogues.  You see in the verse just before this one that Jesus was travelling throughoutGalilee, “preaching in their synagogues…”  So, it’s safe to assume this man was near the synagogue and, thus, was a Jew.  A Jewish person with leprosy would have been considered unclean and, as such, would not have been allowed to worship or associate with anyone who was clean.  Basically, he was cut off from his faith community.

So, somewhere near the synagogue this man with leprosy comes up to Jesus, kneels down, and begs him:  “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”  The text doesn’t say this specifically, but their likely proximity to the synagogue—and the fact that Jesus later sends the man to the synagogue “as a testimony” to the priests–makes you wonder if the man already had been to the priests for healing and had been turned away.  If that’s the case, then an indignant response from Jesus makes sense.  Here was a man the faith community was supposed to embrace and heal…yet what did they do?  They turned him away.

Do you ever find yourself feeling that kind of indignation?  When there’s another story in the news about a child being hurt by a clergy person; or a church excluding someone; or a denomination denying a person ordination because of her gender; or when Christians use the Bible—like they are in Villa Rica this week—to explain how God can cure people of homosexuality?  Does hearing stories like that ever engage your splanchna? 

In a book called Simple Spirituality:  Finding God in a Broken World, author Chris Heuertz relates what happened one day inCalcutta,India.  “It was a Monday afternoon, and several of us…were on our way to Sonagachi, one ofSouth Asia’s most notorious red-light districts.  As we were walking to the subway station, we almost stumbled over an emaciated body lying on the sidewalk.  The little person was underneath a dirty blanket covered with what must have been a thousand flies.  From underneath the blanket and body, a three-foot trail of diarrhea ran toward the gutter.”

“My pal Josh tapped the body on the shoulder to see if the person was dead.  The body moved.  Josh pulled the blanket down from the face it covered to see a helpless young man, maybe 22 years old and visibly stunned by our approach.  As soon as he realized we were there to help him, he began weeping uncontrollably.  A crowd gathered.  He continued to cry.

“We didn’t have much to work with, but our friend Sarah grabbed a bottle of water and some newspaper.  She began cleaning the young man, wiping the diarrhea off with the newspaper and rinsing him with the water.  We asked him his name.  Tutella Dhas.  He was lost, afraid, alone.  His body was a leathery-skinned skeleton, and his bulging eyes accentuated the shape of his skull.  He kept crying.           

“We tried to get a taxi, but none would stop.  The crowd grew.  No one wanted to help.  Two more friends happened to be walking down the street just then, and they were able to find a taxi.  They took Tutella Dhas with them and headed off to Mother Teresa’s House for the Dying.  Phileena, Sarah, Josh and I stood there in disbelief.

“I lifted my head and caught sight of a church and its sign less than five feet from where we found the dying Tutella Dhas.  The sign read, ‘All are welcome here.’  It may have been what inspired someone to drop Tutella in front of the church.  But was he welcome?  People from the church watched as we helped Tutella, yet the gate remained closed. 

“If all were truly welcome, then why was a man dying at the threshold of the church?  Why didn’t anyone come out to help him?”

“If you are willing, you can heal me,” the man said.  “Jesus was indignant.”  I should say so.  The faith community is supposed to be a source of healing and wholeness for people.  Of all institutions in the world, the faith community is supposed to honor and respect and respond to the dignity of every child of God.  Which is why when the faith community gets it wrong, when it misses the mark, when it ostracizes or worse yet, demonizes the very people it exists to help, the faithful person can’t help but respond with indignation.

So, was Jesus’ splanchna experiencing indignation?  It’s a safe bet that it was.  But what was the source of that indignation?  Was it not compassion for the man?  He was angry at the synagogue because it had turned away a person in need of healing.  Jesus’ indignation at the synagogue grew out of his compassion for the man. 

Which might be why Jesus sent the newly-healed man back to the priest in the synagogue “as a testimony to him.”  In that act, Jesus was inviting that man’s faith community back to its original task:  having compassion for, seeing the dignity of, and healing those who sought it out. 

If only that’s what the man had done.  But he didn’t.  He skipped the synagogue all together and “went out and began to proclaim his healing freely.”  No wonder, right?  We all know people who—once shunned by the church—have never gone near another church again.  Who would blame them?

But Jesus seems pretty clear about what he hopes the man will do.  Go, present yourself for the traditional Mosaic cleansing, and do it as a “testimony to them.”  Remind the faith community of its call to heal people.

Because he skipped his post-healing synagogue visit, the newly-healed man’s faith community missed his testimony to them.  They missed their chance to be called back to their original healing work. 

What about us in this faith community?  We have witnessed the man’s healing.  Will we receive the testimony of that healing?  Will we remember and reclaim our calling to be a source of healing for others?  Will we continue striving to be a safe place, a sanctuary for those who are hurting?  Will we watch others outside the church tend to the mortally wounded on our doorstep…or will we open the gate?

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for the wholeness of us all.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  (C) 2012

Mark 1:40-45

A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” ⁴¹Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” ⁴²Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. ⁴³After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, ⁴⁴saying to him, “See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.” ⁴⁵But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.

            Did anyone time our Announcements last week?  They seemed to go on forever, didn’t they?  It reminded me of a song we used to sing at summer camp:  “Announcements, announcements, announcements.  A terrible death to die, a terrible death to die…”  I don’t know what comes after that, because the announcements would usually begin at that point and we’d promptly fall asleep.  But seriously.  That was a lot of announcements last week.  I’m not scolding anyone; I was one of the biggest culprits. 

            It did get me thinking, though.  It seems like a lot is going on here for a fairly small faith community.  I mean, a lot.  On the one hand, that feels good.  We’re a diverse congregation with diverse interests.  We’re full of life and doing very good things.  On the other hand, though, I wonder if, in the midst of our busy-ness, we’re taking time to rest. 

There’s a lot going on in today’s Gospel lesson…Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law; she gets up immediately to offer hospitality; people bring loved ones from miles around so that Jesus can heal them.  A lot is going on in these verses…

…but the most astounding thing—at least to this inhabitant of the activity-plagued 21^st century—is the fact that Jesus stepped out of all the crazy-ness for a time to be silent and pray and rest.  Even more astounding is the fact that the Gospel writer thought it important enough to report:  “In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.”  (1:35)

Do you do that?  Do you ever step out of the crazyness of activity and Facebook and email and soccer practice and work and chores to simply sit…and breathe…and be?

Elizabeth Canham had just been ordained a priest in 1982.  She’d had to leave her nativeEnglandand come to the States for the ordination because the Church of England still refused to ordain women.

Back inEnglandafter her ordination,Elizabethprepared to participate in a  communion service with other clergy.  She writes:  “The previous months had been filled with feverish activity–preparing for the ordination, receiving friends who crossed the Atlantic to share the occasion, dealing with media representatives who wanted to create headline stories because I was the first woman from the Church of England to become a priest in the Episcopal Church, after specifically leaving ‘home’ to do so. 

“It had been a breathless time of excitement, hope, and fulfilment.  I had returned toEnglandfor what I thought would be a rest.  Instead I had been swamped by invitations and requests.  I had already celebrated one Eucharist at the Deanery for about fifty supporters of the Movement for the Ordination of Women.  At the same time, TV and radio stations besieged me with requests for interviews.

“As we gathered at the Dean’s home, the clergymen offered me affirmation and hope for a more inclusive Church of England…Then one of them, rector of a nearby parish, asked if I had some time to spare following the service.  Anxious to respond to the needs of others and to further the ‘cause,’ I said yes.  Later that morning we walked through theLondonstreets and into the crypt of his centuries-old church.  We passed through the court of Arches that had witnessed ecclesiastical trials of past ages and into a small, sparsely furnished worship space.  A plain altar, cross, and muted light drew me into a quiet space, and my friend sat down beside me.

“Expecting my friend to ask for something, I waited, tense, ready to respond.  Instead the silence grew, and I began to sense a loving, prayerful presence as this priest wordlessly invited me into a resting place.  When I realized that he was not asking me to provide something but to receive a gift, tears began to flow.  In this period of intense activity I had forgotten to stop, to wait, and to be open to the renewing power of restful presence, the Sabbath time with which the Creator gifted humankind at the beginning of all things.”  (Heart Whispers, pp.99-100)

Are you forgetting to stop?  Are you forgetting to rest?  In another place, Rev. Canham says:  “There is a subtle arrogance in the failure to claim rest—I am so important I have no time for rest—and (in colluding) with the contemporary world that rewards busy-ness but neglects time for and with the Creator.”  (103)  Do you long for some quiet time with your Creator?

Tell you what…let’s dim these lights (lights dim)….  let’s settle into our seats….  Close your eyes if you want…  breathe in deeply…  let it out slowly…  and enjoy some Sabbath time with your Creator…or simply be…

(5 minutes of silence…)

I invite you to take a minute to come back to this place, with these friends.  It’s what Jesus did after his quiet time.  His disciples found him, told him they’d been missing him.  Jesus didn’t yell at them for interrupting his time with God.  No, it’s like because of his time of rest with God, he was now able, ready, and willing to continue his work with the disciples.  “’Let us go on to the neighboring towns,’” he says, “’so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.’  And he went throughoutGalilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.”  Jesus’ time apart strengthened him to continue the important work he had to do.

What insights or strength might you gain from spending time apart with your Creator?  What insights or strength might we gain as a community if we—as a community–spend time apart with God?

 In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  ©  2012

 As soon as they^* left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. ³⁰Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. ³¹He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

32 That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. ³³And the whole city was gathered around the door. ³⁴And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.

35 In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. ³⁶And Simon and his companions hunted for him. ³⁷When they found him, they said to him, ‘Everyone is searching for you.’ ³⁸He answered, ‘Let us go on to the neighbouring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.’ ³⁹And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

            I attended a workshop this week called Christianity after Religion:  The End of Church and the Birth of a New Spiritual Awakening.  For someone who makes her living from the church, the title was a tad disconcerting.  Is church as we know it really ending? 

            Consider this statistic.  In 1955, when asked if they believed in God, 99% of people surveyed said yes.  Today that number is 64%.  The number drops to 44% when you ask people under the age of 30.  Yes.  More than half of young people don’t believe in God. 

            What about church attendance?  If you ask individuals, the number is 40% in a given week.  If you ask the religious communities sponsoring the services those individuals allegedly attended, the figure is closer to 21%.  Which means, basically, that we don’t go to church and we lie about it.

            Another statistic.  Only 25% of people today have confidence in religious institutions.  I’ve had a general sense of the erosion of the importance of church in recent years, but Dr. Bass gave us some good reasons as to why that is so.  She said that the 1990s were a boom time for religion.  The largest book market during that decade was the religious book market.  Mega churches popped up everywhere.  Religion thrived.

            Then, 9/11 happened.  From that tragic event, people learned to associate religion with violence.  On the heels of 9/11—just a few months later in 2002—the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church became public.  Now people began associating religion with abuse.  In 2003, the Episcopal Church elevated openly gay priest Gene Robinson to the position of bishop.  The fallout from that event—that is, religious groups fighting within their own ranks–convinced people that religion was only about incivility and exclusion.  Add to that the rampant politicization of religion in the last 30 years, and you begin to understand why religion is suffering a crisis of relevance.

            I’ve had the opportunity recently to talk to some 20-somethings about church.  These folks are sharp, delightful, very good people.  But here’s the thing.  Knowing my role in the church, knowing that the church I pastor isn’t the norm, still, these people whom I deeply respect dismiss church out of hand.  They look at me dumbfounded, like, How could I be part of something so antiquated and out of sync with “real life?”

            That has been disconcerting.  Don’t get me wrong.  I have definitely seen the bad side of church.  But despite having seen the underside of church, I also know what happens here at Pilgrimage.  I know we talk about God’s love and try as best we can to live it.  I know we try to live like Christ’s disciples, no matter what our families look like, no matter what our life circumstances are.  I know what it means to be part of a faith community that is safe and trustworthy.  Church and Christian faith are integral to the life I lead.  And it’s a good life.

            But someone who is 20 years old, that is, someone who was born in 1991—what do they know of the church?  They associate it with violence, abuse, incivility, exclusion, and political agendas.  Young people today—a lot of people today—no longer associate organized religion with goodness and hope and compassion and love.  Religious institutions—like all other institutions—are suspect.  For most folks today, religious institutions are to be feared or dismissed, not respected…and certainly not sought out.

            So, what are we to do?  Should we give up?  Is the situation hopeless?  Or is there a way for faith communities to reclaim some authority in today’s anti-religion climate?  Maybe we can learn something about all this from today’s Gospel Lesson.

            Before today’s text, Jesus has been out collecting disciples.  “Follow me, Simon and Andrew!”  “Follow me, James and John!”  The first real test of what kind of teacher/Messiah is going to be comes the first Sabbath they’re together.  Will they or won’t they go to synagogue?  Is Jesus a traditional Jewish teacher?  Or is he doing something completely outside the tradition?  The answer is….yes. 

When Jesus and his disciples enter the synagogue that Sabbath morning, they are doing what Jews had been doing for generations.  They gather with other worshipers, pray, sing, study the Scriptures.  By making one of his first official acts attending synagogue, Jesus was affirming the legitimacy of the religious institution of his day.

It’s when he opens his mouth that the new thing happens.  The people are “astounded at his teaching.”  They say he “teaches as one having authority and not as the scribes.”  Which is kind of interesting…because the scribes were the religious authorities.  They knew and taught the scriptures.  In our context, we might say they’d been to seminary and had been ordained.  The scribes had all the credentials in the world to teach.  But Jesus is the one who—in the people’s minds—taught “with authority.”  So, if Jesus didn’t have “scribal” authority, what kind of authority did he have? 

            Maybe it was something like the authority music therapist, Zoe Baxter, has.  In the novel, Sing You Home, Zoe is enlisted to work with a suicidal teenager named Lucy.  They meet in the Special Education classroom each week, because that’s the only room available for their sessions.  After several weeks of work, Lucy remains intransigent.

            “I hate coming here,” Lucy says during a particularly difficult session.  Her words cut through Zoe, who says, ‘I’m really sorry to hear—“  “The special ed room?  Seriously?  I’m already the school’s biggest freak, and now everyone thinks I’m retarded, too.” 

            “Mentally challenged,” Zoe corrects automatically.  Lucy gives her the look of death.

            “I think you need to play some percussion,” Zoe says.

            “And I think you need to go (bleep)…”

            “That’s enough,” Zoe says and she grabs Lucy by the wrist and hauls her down to the kitchen in the school’s cafeteria, where Zoe announces to the cafeteria lady:  “I’m going to need you to clear this area.”  “Oh, you are,” she says.  “Who died and left you queen?”  The two go at it until the cafeteria lady says, “I’m going to get the principal,” and leaves.

            Zoe starts grabbing pots and pans and turns them over on the work surfaces.  She gathers ladles, spoons, and spatulas.  “You’re going to get reamed,” Lucy says.  Zoe doesn’t care.  She sets up two drumming stations—one makeshift high hat (an overturned skillet), a snare (an overturned pot), and leaves the metal server door at [their] feet to be the bass drum.  “We’re going to play the drums,” she announces.  And they do. 

It’s just what Lucy needs…not only the drumming…but the fact that Zoe went outside the bounds of institutional expectations to give Lucy what she needed.  And Zoe bore the consequences for breeching those boundaries.  When the principal comes to see what’s going on, Zoe takes the blame.  (Sing you home, 233-5)

The boundaries of the school—classroom boundaries, teacher-student boundaries, sanitation boundaries for the kitchen—all those things were important.  But when it came to reaching Lucy in the place of her deepest need, it became necessary to cross those boundaries, to rewrite the rules.  For the sake of Lucy’s spirit—one might even say her soul—Zoe acted outside the usual authorities and became a true authority for Lucy. 

That’s exactly what Jesus does at the synagogue.  As soon as the people acknowledge Jesus’ authority, a man with a demon/mental illness comes in.  Jesus heals him.  Amazed, the people again remark on the authority of Jesus’ teaching.  “What is this?  A new teaching—and with authority!”  I’m sure there were very good teachers among the scribes in the synagogue.  I’m sure they taught the scriptures with integrity.  But maybe they were only conveying what they’d been taught, repeating by rote what they’d heard from others.

Jesus, though, seems to be saying the words as if he wrote them himself, as if he “authored” them.  When Jesus talked about healing, he believed it would happen.  And it did.

Another thing to note here is that, in the context of Jewish thought and practice, healing was considered work…which meant it wasn’t supposed to happen on the Sabbath.  Jesus claimed his authority when relieving a man’s suffering became more important than religious rules.  Don’t get me wrong.  Religious rules are important…but sometimes the rules need to be challenged or changed or bent.  Sometimes you have to do the unexpected and go outside the usual boundaries to meet people where they are, in the midst of their deepest need.

            Like Zoe did with Lucy.  Later, Lucy reflects on the kitchen drumming session.  “I’ve never had anyone do that for me before.  Zoe knew she was going to get in trouble.  But she didn’t care.  Instead of making me do what I’m supposed to do, or be what everyone wants me to be, she did something totally crazy.  It was brave, is what it was.”  (276)

            So, what does all of this have to do with the end of church?  In all of the depressing things I learned from that workshop this week, there also was some hope.  While people’s trust in religious institutions is waning, their desire for spiritual fulfilment is not.  People are still looking for something to meet their spiritual needs.  They still want to be connected to a benevolent power in the universe.  They still want to believe that God actually loves them and hopes for their wholeness.  People want to believe in compassion, they want to believe that we are all are connected and that together human beings do so much better than we do alone.

            I believe with all my heart that the church still has a word to speak to these seekers.  I believe that we here in this church have a word to speak.  I also think, like Jesus and Zoe, we’re going to have to go outside the boundaries of traditional religion to speak that word to others.  It’s great to do what we can to welcome people who come up this hill to church…but the folks who are going to come here on their own is dwindling fast. 

In the future—the future that begins today—if we want folks to hear the good news that God loves them and hopes for their wholeness, we’re going to have to go meet them where they are.  We’re going to have to speak the words of the good news as if we authored them.  We’re going to have to convince people by the way we live our lives that they are more important than rules. It’s what Zoe Baxter did with Lucy.  It’s what Jesus did in the synagogue.  It’s what we must do if this church—Pilgrimage United Church of Christ—is to maintain its relevance in this community.     

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Mark 1:21-28

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. ²²They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. ²³Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, ²⁴and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” ²⁵But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” ²⁶And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. ²⁷They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” ²⁸At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

            As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. ¹⁷And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” ¹⁸And immediately they left their nets and followed him. 

            Here we go again with that “immediately they left their nets and followed him” business.  Last week we heard about Philip, who immediately followed Jesus.  This week, Andrew and Simon are out in their boats fishing when this guy hollers out to them “Follow me!”  With no better plan than “I’ll make you fish for people!” the brothers immediately drop their nets and follow Jesus.  Really?  What does it even mean to “fish for people?”   

Apparently, these rough fisherman don’t care what it means.  Simon and Andrew drop everything to follow Jesus…as do their buddies, James and John.  James and John are so eager to follow Jesus, in fact, that they leave their father in the boat with the hired men mending nets and follow Jesus.                                                                                                                                              As these stories are told, there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it.  Jesus calls, people answer.  No game plan, no project design, no health plan or 401K, no nothing…except the call to “follow me”…which these men do.  Immediately.  Okay.  We did hear about Nathanael last week, who received Jesus’ call with sceptical questions, “Can anything good come out ofNazareth?” and “How did you come to know me?”  But still, after asking his questions, Nathanael quickly comes to believe in Jesus and follows.

I don’t know who the lectionary Gods are—the people who select the Scripture readings for each Sunday—but I am so glad they included the story of Jonah on this Sunday.  Because if we only had the Gospel lesson—with Simon, Andrew, James and John dropping everything to follow Jesus immediately—we could get a little discouraged, couldn’t we?

…especially if we struggle with hearing and answering God’s call.  Has anyone here ever heard God’s call and immediately dropped everything to follow it?  Most of us, I’m guessing, struggle with our calls.  What about our jobs and families and responsibilities?  What if we’re scared?  What if we can’t get any support?  And, well let me just say it:  What if we don’t want to follow God’s call?

That’s why this story of Jonah is so great.  The reading begins, “The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time…”  Do you remember what happened the first time the word of the Lord came to Jonah saying “Get up, go to Ninevah…and proclaim the message that I tell you?”  He caught a ship heading in the opposite direction!  And while they were sailing a big storm came up.  Terrified, each of the sailors cried to his own god…while Jonah went below deck and fell asleep. 

At a loss for what to do, the sailors cast lots to see who was to blame for the storm.  The lot fell on Jonah.  He sleepily told them, “Yeah.  I’m the problem.  I worship the God who created the sea, and well, I’m avoiding him.  If you want the storm to stop, you need to throw me overboard.”  The sailors were reluctant to do it, but in the end, they had exhausted all their options.  They tossed Jonah into the sea.  And the storm was calmed.  And then, wouldn’t you know, they began to worship Jonah’s God.   The joke’s on Jonah, huh?

Then we’re told that God had prepared a great fish to swallow Jonah.  Talk about fishing for people!  Jonah spends a few days in the fish…he cries out to God (sort of), repents of his reluctance to heed God’s call (kind of) and commits—finally—to doing what God is asking.  And then—I love the NIV translation, that says—“the Lord commanded the fish and it vomited Jonah onto dry ground.”  Very descriptive image.

So, it’s after all of this that “the word of the Lord comes to Jonah a second time…”  This time, Jonah does what God asks.  He walks through the city—a three day journey—and proclaims God’s message—“Forty more days and Ninevah will be overthrown.”  Happily, for the Ninevites, they repent and the punishment doesn’t come.

See?  Aren’t you glad the lectionary people included Jonah’s story alongside the call stories of all these “Messiah’s pet” disciples like Simon and Andrew, James and John?  Jonah gives us a little more hope for ourselves on those days when it’s hard, hard, hard to follow God’s call.  Even on those days when we just don’t feel like following God.

Allison Chamberlain receives a call from God.  For her, it’s not so much that she doesn’t want to follow God as that she’s just not sure she’s heard God correctly.  A novel called The Reluctant Prophet, begins with Allison saying, “I found Jesus seven years ago, but until that Sunday morning, I didn’t know what to do with him.”  On the Sunday morning in question, Allison felt a holy Nudge.  It wasn’t an audible voice… but almost as clear as an audible voice, Allison heard God say: “Go buy a Harley.”

Since she’d never driven a motorcycle and had never had an inclination to do so, Allison questioned whether this was a true call from God or just a bit of indigestion.  But the Nudge was persistent, persistent enough that Allison went to the Harley shop to check out the bikes.  It took selling an expensive car that someone had bequeathed her to do it, but Allison bought a Heritage Softail Classic and signed up for a riding class.

Allison questioned God’s call again when, during her first riding lesson, she ended up, first on the pavement, then in the creek.  Maybe she had misunderstood.  Maybe God hadn’t said, “Go buy a Harley.”  Maybe instead God had called Allison to go buy barley and open a bakery.  Because this Harley thing wasn’t working out too well.

Through some kind of divine intervention—or so it seems—Hank (short for Henrietta) shows up at Allison’s house the next day for private riding lessons.  Through yet another miracle, Hank works with Allison until Allison—finally–is able to pass the Harley riding test.

If learning to ride the Harley was hard, learning to deal with the people to whom her bike led her was even more challenging for Allison.  The classic somehow always led her to the seedy side of town…to the place where prostitutes walked the streets and addicts could get their fixes, to places where crime was rampant and where children grew up way too fast. 

Having grown up in a wealthy family and being the member of a good little church, Allison never imagined her life having anything to do with life on the wrong side of the tracks.  But before the novel ends, she has helped three former prostitutes get off drugs, fed over 100 hungry people in the park, and become the guardian of a wayward orphan.  Allison’s call to “go buy a Harley” turns out to be a call to take God’s message of love to people who are completely different from her.

In that, Allison is similar to our friend Jonah.  Jonah, too, was called to go to people who were alien to him, people he felt completely different from, people he might well have been frightened of.  Allison is also similar to Jonah in that, like Jonah, it took a couple of calls before she was able to answer.  Oh, she didn’t get swallowed by a big fish or anything, but she did question herself and God several times before she was able to answer God’s call.

Perhaps the most hopeful word in today’s Old Testament is “second.”  “The call of God came to Jonah a second time…”  That tiny word reminds us that we all have second—and third and fourth and forty-third—chances to answer God’s call. 

Do you feel like you’ve missed a call or two from God?  Maybe a call to a career change or a call to reconciliation or a call to a different kind of financial stewardship or a call to foster parenting or a call to serve people without adequate housing or food?  Is there a call you’ve buried under busy-ness, a call you’ve forgotten, a call you’re still trying to get straight in your mind?

If so, there is good news today:  We, too, get second chances.  God’s calls aren’t a one-shot deal.  If the job’s important enough—which, if God calls us to it, it is–God will call again…and again….and again…

Today’s sermon ends with the powerful words of Albert Schweitzer sung by the choir.  I’m sure the choir’s enunciation will be impeccable, but just in case, I want to read the words for you…because these words remind us that, though God’s call came to people like Jonah and Jesus’ disciples, in the end, the call comes to us, as well.  The question is always before us—will we respond that call positively…even if we haven’t done so the 37 times we’ve heard it before?  Even if we thought God said Harley when he really said barley?  Even if God is calling us to do something totally crazy and unexpected?  The question for today isn’t how we have or haven’t responded to God’s call in the past.  The question for today is, How we will respond today?

Hear now the words of Albert Schweitzer from his book, The Quest of the Historical Jesus.

 “He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lakeside, He came to those men who knew him not. He speaks to us the same word: ‘Follow thou me!’ and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal Himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is.”

 [Choir sings, “He Comes to Us,” by Jane Marshall.]

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  ©  2012

Jonah 3:1-5, 10 

The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, saying, ²“Get up, go to Nineveh, that great city, and proclaim to it the message that I tell you.” ³So Jonah set out and went to Nineveh, according to the word of the Lord. Now Nineveh was an exceedingly large city, a three days’ walk across. ⁴Jonah began to go into the city, going a day’s walk. And he cried out, “Forty days more, andNineveh shall be overthrown!”

⁵And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth. ¹⁰When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.

Mark 1:14-20

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, ¹⁵and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

            As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. ¹⁷And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” ¹⁸And immediately they left their nets and followed him.  As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. ²⁰Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

            Take a trip with me back through time, way back to ancient history…back to the days when we called landlines “phones” because there weren’t any other kind.  Remember those days?  Of course, some of you are too young to remember those days. 

Here’s what it was like.  If you wanted to talk to someone on the phone, you had to go inside a building and find a machine that was connected to a wall.  And here’s the thing.  If you knew someone was going to call you, you had to—I know this is shocking, but this is how we lived in the old days—if you knew someone was going to call you, you had to sit by the phone and wait.  None of this taking the phone with you and doing whatever you want until the call comes.  No, back in the old days, you had to prepare for incoming calls.

            Of course, if it’s really important, I guess we still have to prepare for incoming calls.  We make sure we’re not driving or in a noisy coffee shop when the call comes.  Or in a worship service.  We make sure we’re near a cell tower for our service provider.  We make sure the phone is charged.  Certainly, some calls come unexpectedly.  We answer them if we can, especially if they’re on Caller ID.  And if we know the caller.  And if we like them.  If we’re expecting a call, there’s a lot we can do to be prepared for the call when it comes.

How about incoming calls from God?  Are you ready to receive a call from God?  What does it take to prepare to receive a call from God?  We can learn a lot about preparing to receive God’s call from Samuel, Nathanael, and our good friend Clarence Jordan.

We’ve heard Samuel’s story already.  Dedicated to God at birth, he lived in theTempleas an assistant to the aging priest, Eli.  Samuel didn’t choose to live at the temple; that decision was made for him.  But look what happened!  Because Samuel had been participating in the life of the faith community, because he’d been going through the motions of worship and learning about God, and because he had an elder in the faith to help him understand it, when God’s call came, Samuel was able to receive it and respond to it. 

Samuel’s story teaches us two things about preparing to hear God’s call.  First, the routine of participating in spiritual practices is a great way to prepare to hear God’s call.  That’s why it’s so important to get our children into the routine of coming to church.  They’re not going to get everything they hear here; they might not get much of anything for a long time.  But one day, one day!  It just might click for them.  One day, that child might hear God’s call to them.  The thing that will help them to understand that call will be what they learned at church…. or what they learned from the people they know at church.

We adults also will do well to hang out in a faith community on a regular basis.  One of the big insights for me in praying with the nuns came from wondering why we had to pray three times a day, every day.  At first, it seemed a little extreme, all that praying.  It took so much time.  And, to be honest, sometimes it was kind of boring.

But here’s what I’ve learned.  The point of praying and worship isn’t to have a profound or exciting experience every time we do it.  The point is getting into a routine or discipline of prayer and worship so that we’ll be ready for the profound experiences when they do come.  That’s the beauty of attending worship regularly or having a regular time for personal prayer.  It’s not that amazing things happen every time you pray or read your Bible.  It’s that you’ve created a space and time where the amazing things can happen.

The second thing we learn from Samuel and Eli about preparing to hear God’s call is that they had to work it out together.  Samuel heard the call, but didn’t know what was happening.  Eli didn’t hear the call, but because of his own past experiences of hearing God’s call, he was able to help Samuel interpret it.  If Samuel and Eli hadn’t been together in this scene, I’m not sure we’d even have a story…because alone, neither person was equipped to hear God’s call.  Together, they heard.

Did you get that?  Alone, we are not equipped to hear God’s call.  Together, we are better able to hear.

How do we prepare to hear God’s call in our lives?  From Samuel we learn the importance of getting into a regular routine of prayer and worship.  We also learn how vital it is to have faithful friends around us to help us interpret the call when it comes.

What might we learn from Nathanael?  Just before Nathanael’s call, Philip is called.  Personally, I find Philip’s response to Jesus annoying.  Jesus calls, Philip answers.  No hemming or hawing or deciding or anything.  No having to hear the call three times and talking it over with a teacher to understand it.  No, Jesus calls; Philip answers.  In fact, Philip answers Jesus’ call so quickly, the Gospel writer doesn’t even make a note of it; he just reports immediately that Philip finds Nathanael and shares the good news with him.  It’s true that some people’s responses to God’s call are just that sudden, just that complete.

            I’m guessing, though, that most of us respond a bit more like Nathanael…with scepticism, cynicism, and questions.  When Philip tells his friend, “We have found the one!  Jesus from Nazareth,” Nathanael responds with his first question, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”  Don’t you love that?  His first response to news of the Messiah is a grumpy question!  But even when the call proper comes from Jesus himself, Nathanael still has questions:  “Where did you come to know me?” he sceptically asks.  None of this “Nathanael left what he was doing and immediately followed Jesus.”  No, Nathanael had questions that needed answers before he was going to respond to Jesus’ call.  And the beautiful thing?  Jesus answered.  Jesus honored and answered Nathanael’s questions.

            So…Samuel was prepared to receive God’s call through the routine of spiritual practices and connection with faithful friends.  Nathanael was prepared to receive God’s call by honouring his questions, even his scepticism.  What prepared Clarence Jordan to hear God’s call?  Oddly enough, for Clarence, it was…hypocrisy.

            Clarence grew up in a faithful Christian community in south Georgia in the early part of the 20^th c.  He grew up singing, “Jesus loves the little children…red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight…” but he didn’t see that love for people of all colors lived out in his community.  The dichotomy between what the church taught and how church members lived became acutely real during Clarence’s twelfth summer.

            “TheTalbotCountyjail was situated about 100 yards straight out behind theJordanhome, and a chain gang of convicted criminals was camped in the yard of the jailhouse most of the time.  Clarence was fascinated by the rowdy, profane humanity of the men who lived out a portion of their lives there, and he began passing through the camp in the afternoons after school.  He made friends with a number of the prisoners and with the cook, who gave him a slice of cornbread and fatback every afternoon. 

“There he glimpsed again facts of life that seemed alien to what he was being taught in home and in church.  He saw men with short chains locked between their feet to keep them from running, men bolted into the agonizing shame of primitive pillories, men beaten with whips or their bodies torn under the stress of the ‘stretcher’—a small frame structure in which a man could be placed with his feet fastened at the floor and his hands tied to ropes above him that extended out to a block and tackle on the outside.  He saw that almost all these men were black.

            “’This made tremendous, traumatic impressions on me,’ [Jordan] recalled.  ‘It hit me the hardest a night or two after I joined the church during the August revival.  I remember it was hot and I remember that the warden of the chain gang was singing bass in the choir.  I’ll never forget how carried away he got singing ‘Love Lifted Me’ that night.

            “But the next night I was awakened by agonizing groans from the direction of the chain gang camp.  I was sure I could recognize who it was, and I was sure I knew what was happening.  Ed Russell was in the stretcher.  I knew not only who was in the stretcher, I knew who was pulling the rope.  The same man who only hours before was so carried away singing ‘Love Lifted Me’ was now lifting that man’s body on the stretcher.  That nearly tore me to pieces.  I identified totally with that man in the stretcher.  His agony was my agony.  I got really mad with God.  If He was love and the warden was an example of it, I didn’t want anything to do with Him.”  (The Cotton patch Evidence, pp.8-9)  It was living in the painful tension between Jesus’ gospel of love and the racial bigotry of the south that eventually led Clarence to hear God’s call to establish an interracial Christian community inSouth Georgia in the 1940s. 

If Samuel was prepared to hear God’s call by participating in spiritual practices and faithful community, and if Nathanael was prepared to hear God’s call by asking questions, Clarence Jordan was prepared to hear God’s call by immersing himself both in Scripture and in the real life around him.  In so doing, Clarence found a way through his understanding of Scripture to transform the world around him into a better place.

            What will help you prepare to hear God’s call when it comes?  Committing—or recommitting—yourself to a spiritual practice like prayer or worship?  Committing—or recommitting–yourself to a faithful community?  Acknowledging your scepticism and cynicism and getting answers to all your nagging questions?  Recommitting yourself to living the Sermon on the Mount?  Looking honestly and seriously at bigotry and injustice in the world?

            What will help you prepare to hear God’s call when it comes?  And here’s the really annoying question:  Are you willing to do what it takes to prepare to hear God’s call?  [Phone rings…]

 In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  © 2012

I Samuel 3:1-10  (NRSV)

Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. ²At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; ³the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. ⁴Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” ⁵and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. ⁶The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” ⁷Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. ⁸The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. ⁹Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. ¹⁰Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”

John 1:43-51  (NRSV)

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” ⁴⁴Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. ⁴⁵Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” ⁴⁶Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” ⁴⁷When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” ⁴⁸Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” ⁴⁹Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” ⁵⁰Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” ⁵¹And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

While Koinonia Farm had been doing its thing since 1942, the apparent spark that caused the powder keg to blow was Brown v. Board of Education (1954).  It was when the Supreme Court mandated integration that southerners took action.

They began with a boycott of Koinoina Farm.  Suppliers stopped supplying seed, mechanics stopped repairing equipment, the egg market went bust (literally), the butane salesman refused to sell anything to Koinonia.

Those not satisfied with the economic boycott soon resorted to physical violence, from 14 year old Jim Jordan being bullied and abused at school, to the roadside market being bombed a few times, to nightly potshots being taken at the community compound. 

How do you live under those circumstances?  Clarence and Florence had to send Jim away to go to school just so he’d be safe.  The community had to set up a sentry schedule to keep watch at night.  Eventually, Clarence wrote a letter to President Eisenhower that essentially went no where.  The local and state law enforcement authorities weren’t helpful, either.  As Dallas Lee says, “Their intention obviously was not to protect Koinonia Farm.  Their aim was to prosecute it” (120). 

How do you live with the constant threat of physical violence?  How do you live with people shooting at your home every night?  How do you live in these circumstances with no faith in the authorities?  How do you live in these circumstances with any faith at all?  I just don’t get how they did it.  

I also don’t get the hatred that gave birth to the violence…like the man quoted in the Albany Journal who said:  “I had rather see my little boy dead than sit beside a Negro in the public schools” (112).  Excuse me?  I just don’t get that kind of hatred

It’s easy to focus on the outrageous violence committed against Koinonia…and perhaps even to wonder why the way I live my life has never invited that kind of violence.  But to get bogged down in the outrageousness of the violence and hatred would be to miss Clarence’s point.

Lee begins this chapter by reminding the reader that “Clarence did not look to confrontation as a strategy for exposing hypocrisy.  He held firmly to the tactic of persuasion, and regardless of evidence to the contrary, he hoped [men’s] hearts could be changed through grace before their lives had to be changed through law” (105).  (Indeed, Clarence often wondered aloud whether forced integration was any better than forced segregation.)

Again Lee writes:  “It became increasingly clear that (Jordan’s) ideals did not dull his capacity for confrontation.  He simply believed in living as normal a course of events as possible, free of fear, without abridnging his own freedom or that of anyone else.  He would not go out of his way to create an incident, but he would not go out of his way to avoid one, either.  Asked in later years if he had ever been on a freedom walk, Clarence replied: “No, but I always walk freely.”  (105)

Here’s what so impresses me about Clarence Jordan–the one guiding principle of his life was living the Gospel as authentically as he knew how.  Period.  If living the Gospel got him into confrontational situations, so be it.  If it didn’t get him into confrontational situations, so be it.  I think for most of us, we live our lives either seeking out confrontation or avoiding it.  (I’m an avoider.)  How free it must have been–even in the midst of the violence–to walk freely.

This thing about living the Gospel authentically is beautifully illustrated in the encounter Clarence and a Koinonia colleague had with the butane salesman.  (You can read the whole thing on pp.113-114.)  The Koinonians talked with the man, reasoned with him, trying to get him to reconsider his decision to boycott the farm.  After all, they needed the butane for heat, for heating water, and for cooking.

When the man wouldn’t change his mind (out of fear of confrontation–he was an avoider), Clarence said, “We said that we would be praying for him.  He said, you are doing what Jesus taught, for he said: to pray for your enemies and I guess I am your enemy.  Friend or enemy, we said, you are an object of God’s love and our love.  We shook hands with him and told him goodbye.”  (114)

See?  I don’t know that I could have done that.  I just don’t know that I could have shook the man’s hand and assured him of God’s love and mine.  I don’t think I could have done it.  But I think that’s exactly what living the Gospel looks like.  It might try to persuade (Clarence works hard to change the salesman’s mind), but it never imposes.  And in the end, always, the Gospel sees God’s love for the other.

Recently, I was in a group that was asked, “What do you want written on your tombstone?”  I said, “She lived the Gospel.”  That’s still what I’d like to be written…but after reading this chapter, I realize–again, still–just how far I have to go to be a true “Gospel-liver.”  (Oh, man.  That sounds like a dish at a Gospel singing potluck…but you know what I mean!)

Okay.  Let’s end on a lighter note.  In the summer of 1956, four Sumter County farmers petitioned for an injunction to stop Camp Koinonia, a camp for kids Koinonia had sponsored for several years, on moral grounds.  They were concerned, in part, that the children would see piglets being born.  While the case never went to court, Clarence’s statement about the petition is worth repeating: 

“We have been unable to guarantee absolute privacy to our 40-odd sows during farrowing season, and because our hogs are rather stupid, we have been unable to teach them to seclude themselves during this act.  Furthermore, we have read all the latest development on hog-raising, but have discovered no other way of getting baby pigs than by the old-fashioned process of birth.”  (108)

Well-said!

I had arrived early for the Interfaith Children’s Movement meeting at MUST Ministries in Cobb County. Our agenda for the day was preparing for ICM’s Day at the Capitol.

As I waited for the receptionist to find out where we were meeting, a woman came up to me, asked if I was there for the ICM meeting and introduced herself as Patty Sprinkle. The name struck a chord. Then it hit me. “Do you write novels?” I asked. “Why, yes I do!” she said.

I love the novels of Patricia Sprinkle! I’ve read every one of them (except the latest, which I hadn’t know about). There are three mystery series and a few other novels.  All are set in the South, many in Georgia.  (Sheila Travis does spend some time in Chicago, I believe.)  

For a full accounting of all of Patricia’s work, visit her website:  www.patriciasprinkle.com

The newest book, “Friday’s Daughter,” is set in the North Georgia mountains.  Can’t wait to read it!  AND…Patty has grciously agreed to come discuss the book with the Pilgrimage Book Club on April 12 at 7:00 p.m.  If you’re in the area, please come!  (www.pilgrimageucc.org)

While it was thrilling to meet a favorite author, what was even more impressive about last Thursday’s encounter was learning just how much advocacy work Ms. Sprinkle does.  In addition to working with ICM (www.interfaithchildrensmovement.org) and MUST Ministries (www.mustministries.org), she works with She Is Safe (www.SheIsSafe.org), an organization that works to eliminate the exploitation of women and children in India.

I am an expert on baptism.  My expertise comes, not from being a pastor or having a couple of degrees in religion.  I am an expert on baptism because I have been baptized three times.

The first time happened in sixth grade.  At an evening devotional at music camp during the summer, I had felt the “strange warming” in my heart that John Wesley talked about.  In that moment I was certain–certain!–of God’s love for me.  When I returned home, I shared the experience with my pastor and he signed me up to be baptized.  That was a Methodist church, so I was sprinkled.

A couple of years after that, I started hanging out with Baptists.  One day, the pastor at my Baptist church called me into his office and took me down the “Roman Road,” which means he showed me in various verses from the book of Romans how “all fall short of the glory of God” and how no one is saved except by acknowledging Jesus Christ as Lord and savior.

Now, I thought I already was a Christian.  I’d felt God’s love for me, I’d been baptized…good to go, right?  But when someone in authority calls you into his office and tells you you’re going to hell unless you say yes to the questions he’s asking, well, you say yes.  So, I was baptized again.  This time by immersion. 

For years after that second baptism, I felt guilty.  And afraid.  That pastor’s insistence on “getting me saved,” convinced me that my true conversion experience wasn’t valid.  And I knew that this second baptism wasn’t valid because my heart wasn’t in it…which meant that I must not be saved, right?  Which meant (sigh) that I was going to hell.

I lived with that secret fear all through my tenure at a Baptist college, all through a couple of internships working in children’s ministry.  Finally, in my second year of teaching school, I couldn’t take it any more.  I made an appointment with my pastor.  He, too, showed me the Roman Road and signed me up to be Baptized.  The church was bigger, the baptistry nicer, but, in truth, it felt just as fake as the previous baptism.  What I remember most about that day is the splitting headache I had.

Most of you know that I went to seminary to become a children’s minister…because that was all I had seen women do in the church.  While I’m grateful that–even in a Baptist seminary–I got in touch with my true calling to pastor, my commitment to children’s ministry wasn’t without merit.  Having seen so many children pressured to “accept Jesus into their hearts” at an age where they couldn’t possibly understand what that meant, I went to seminary to learn how to stop what I called the “spiritual abuse” of children.

Reflecting on children’s ministry in general gave me insight into my own spiritual journey as a child.  Thinking back on that first experience of God’s love at music camp, I knew that my true baptism experience, the one where I emerged from the water knowing that I was beloved of God, was the first one–that sprinkling in the tiny Methodist church in Newberry, Florida.

On this day, when we reflect on Jesus’ baptism–and our own–may the most real thing we experience be the profound truth that we are beloved by God.

 Christmas Eve Meditation    

            The PBS news magazine, Religion and Ethics News Weekly, recently reported on a significant crime problem:  the theft of the baby Jesus from untold outdoor nativity displays.  As she reported the problem, the anchor also promised a “potential solution.” 

Being a good, solid religious news show, well-versed in all matters of religion, I thought I knew what solution they would propose— don’t put the baby Jesus out until Christmas Eve!  I’m still convinced that all those Jesus thieves are secret members of the liturgical police.  They are saving the world from liturgical incorrectness!  Put the baby Jesus out when he’s supposed to come, there would be no need for the messianic thievery.

Thinking the religious world finally was getting on board with a practical solution to the mass kidnapping of baby Jesuses, I was disappointed to hear the actual solution.   “Brickhouse Security has developed a small GPS tracking device that can be attached to the baby Jesus figurine.  If someone steals it, the device alerts the owner with a text or email and the authorities can track where it went.  Brickhouse is distributing the device for free to churches and other qualifying non-profits.  The program is called “GPS Jesus.”  It can be used for Santa and Rudolph or other holiday figures as well.  But the baby Jesus seems to be the most popular among holiday thieves.”

I find this whole obsession with knowing the precise location of the baby Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-us, fascinating.  It’s like this is the one time of year when we can have a little control over where God-with-us is…God-with-us is right there, in the manger, in the stable, right there between Mary and Joseph, right where he’s supposed to be.  When the baby Jesus isn’t where he’s supposed to be, something feels incomplete, unfinished, unwhole.

Let me say that again.  When the baby Jesus—God-with-us—isn’t with us, something feels incomplete, unfinished, unwhole.  When God-with-us goes missing, it leaves a gaping hole in our lives. 

But I bring you good tidings of great joy!  We don’t need a GPS to find Jesus!  No APBs will be necessary this Christmas Eve night because God-with-us is not missing!  God-with-us is here, has been all evening—in the Scriptures read, in the songs and carols sung, in our togetherness, in the silence, in the candlelight… In fact, God-with-us shows up every time we open our eyes and our hearts to the divine presence in our lives. 

So, yes.  Go ahead..it’s okay to look—the baby Jesus is there, right where he’s supposed to be—in the manger, in the stable, right between Joseph and Mary.  But I also invite you to look around you…because God-with-us isn’t only in that tiny piece of pottery.  God-with-us is everywhere.  All we have to do is look. 

Thanks be to God!

Loving God, we thank you for this night and for the best story of our whole Christian faith:  the one that reminds us that you loved us so much you wanted to become one of us and to come live with us in our real lives every day. 

Remind us again, God, that if your story is to continue—just like tonight—every single one of us has a role to play.  If the sad and lonely are to feel better—we have to do our part.  If the poor and homeless are to get what they need– we have to do our part.  If people are to learn about how much you love them–we have to do our part.

Help us always to do our part in the ongoing story of your love for all people, God…but most of all, God, we thank you for doing your part.  Now we join together in praying the Lord’s Prayer…

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Christmas Day 

Prayer of Confession  (It’s not a traditional confession, but it felt important…)

The day is here!  Christmas!  We’ve heard the Christmas story—several times.  We’ve been to lots of parties.  We’ve sung lots of songs.  The question remains, though, whether we have truly received the gifts God offers:  The gift of presence.  The gift of light.  The gift of love.

In this moment of silence, the invitation is to receive—down into the depths of your being—these true gifts of Christmas.

Silent Confession

Assurance of Grace (We receive God’s grace.)

One fact remains that does not change:  God has loved you, loves you now, and will always love you.  This is the good news that brings us new life.  Thanks be to God.

Christmas Day Meditation                                           

       We Protestants like our words, don’t we?  As one theologian has said, “we are a word-afflicted species.”   (Marjorie Suchocki)  We like to keep things in our heads…creeds, Scriptures, faith.  We like to understand things, read books about them, proclaim words about them…

       But let me ask this:  How many of you on the day after your child was born pulled out a book to read?  How many of you on the first full morning of your child’s new life sat down to write an analysis of the effects of childbirth on you or your spouse?  How many of you set out to do a comparison and contrast between your child’s birth experience and the births of other children?

        No, today is not the time to analyze or dissect or make sense of or understand.  Today is a time to bask in the wonder, the miracle of what has happened.  This morning—in our sleep-deprived state—is the time to give thanks, to celebrate, to sing our joy, to hold the baby close and sing her lullabies.

      So, as the Scriptures are read—don’t try to figure them out, just receive them.  As we sing the songs, don’t debate the words’ meanings, just receive them.  As we pray and sit in silence, allow the wonder and mystery of this new life to overwhelm you.  Allow yourself to receive God’s good gifts to us today—the gift of presence, the gift of light, the gift of love.

Prayers of the People

Holy One, we thank you for this best story of our whole faith—the one that reminds us of how much you love us.  You loved us so much, you wanted to be with us…and the best way to be with us was to become one of us.  So that’s what you did.

Help us to receive the gift of your love, God.  Help us to believe in the reality of your love for us.  Help us to let ourselves feel just how delighted in us you are.  We ask these things, God, because it seems like receiving the gift of you-with-us is about the best way ever to experience true Christmas.

Even as we receive the gift of your presence with us, we ask, too, God that you would help us to give the gift of presence to others—to those who are sad, to those who are lonely, to those who are suffering, to those who are hungry…and especially, God, for those who don’t know how very precious they are.

God, we thank you again—always—for the gift of your presence with us.  Help us again—always—to appreciate that gift down to the depths of who we are.

 And now we share together in praying the prayer taught us by our grown-up brother Jesus…