Philippians 4: 4-7
4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. 5 Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Have you heard the term “toxic positivity?” Generally speaking, it’s “a denial, minimization, and invalidation of the authentic human emotional experience.” A rule of thumb I like to use is this: is someone telling me how I ought to be feeling about a circumstance in my life? Or am I doing that to someone else? Am I saying, “Cheer up, it could be worse,” when I have no clue the depth of emotion this person is experiencing? My guess is somewhere along our way- we’ve been at the receiving and giving end of such comments. I bring up toxic positivity for this reason. It’s the opposite of true joy. Often, people insist on the need to feel happy all the time (or worse, insist that someone else just cheer up already), because they’re scared of dealing with the breadth of human emotion. Grief and doubt, pain and rage find their origin in discomfort. Who likes to be uncomfortable, right? So denying that discomfort is what can create a toxic positivity mindset. “I’m just fine!” (when inside I’m actually gripped with fear.) And sometimes it’s honestly more convenient to leave it at that, right? “I’m just fine!” Because we can’t trust that our vulnerabilities will be treated with dignity. So the cycle continues. Don’t deal with the pain, cover it up with niceties. Enter the Apostle Paul’s writing to the believers in Philippi. “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say, Rejoice!” How do we know that Paul’s words speak of real joy and not toxic positivity? Because Paul’s joy has been forged in the fires of pain. Paul writes these words from a prison cell--held captive by a regime intimidated by freedom & justice in Christ’s message. Paul has been thrown in prison at least three times by this point, endured mental, emotional, and physical torture. Why? Because he just won’t shut up about Jesus. And somehow, in the midst of real pain, Paul has chosen joy. Paul’s rejoicing comes from his commitment to live beyond himself. Paul’s spirit of joy is not about his momentary circumstances, it's about what’s happening in his heart. He is alive with the breath of Spirit, he is set on fire by the truth that Christ loves even him. He has chosen a way of life in which the joy of Christ surpasses momentary (even long seasons of) pain. And the very people he writes to, about this peace of God that surpasses all understanding-- keep his joy alive. Joy is a shared experience, and we get to choose it as a way of life despite whatever circumstances come our way. Each year as we usher in the story of an expectant Mary, the way we romanticize Jesus’ birth brings me back to my first days as a mom. Ten days into Briggs’ life I wrote in my blog, “If I think about my past week-and-a-half while simultaneously stripping away my support network, income privileges, education, sound mental health, environmental calm, etc., I am honestly not sure how I would have gotten through without dangerous thoughts.” I went on to say, “I get how moms recovering from the bodily trauma of birth, struggling to breastfeed, might just lose it.” Now my own mom, who once upon a time used to want to read my writing, commented to me after this post on my blog, “well, it sure wasn’t very positive, was it?” No mom, it wasn’t, and the fact that we insist on new moms being positive- well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? I get it, it's uncomfortable to hear a new mom’s pain when you simply want to ooh and aah at a newborn. But here’s what I think is SO important to understand. Being positive is not a prerequisite for joy. And dismissing negative human emotion is antithetical to experiencing real joy. See, joy is a glimmer of hope you hold within, even when life sucks. True joy is not a fleeting feeling. It’s a chosen identity, a narrative we set for ourselves, that might just see us through the pain to the other side. Here’s the key phrase: we set this narrative for ourselves. No one can tell us how to feel about something or how to respond to pain. See, if the letter to Philippi had been the other way around, if Paul’s associates outside of prison were writing to him, “Rejoice in the Lord always, Paul, it’ll be fine!” as he sits in chains, we might call that toxic positivity. But when Paul, in his authentic and diverse experience of human emotion proclaims, “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.” That’s joy as a way of life. Because that’s the identity Paul chose for himself. Friends, we too can embrace a spirit of joy beyond our momentary circumstances; we too can be made alive with the breath of Spirit; we too can be set on fire by the truth that Christ loves even me. I know for many of you, momentary life circumstances are not good. Finding true joy takes a willingness to embrace our discomfort, to acknowledge its effect on us, and to choose joy even in the midst of the pain. I will never quote you Apostle Paul, “Don’t worry about anything, just pray and give thanks!” as a prescription for the Christian way of life. It’s not. But I will invite you to consider choosing joy in the midst of pain, if that’s the identity you wish to claim. I’m happy to be a conversation partner along the way. Joy is a shared experience, forged in the fires of generations who've known deep struggle & chosen to rejoice in their Creator anyway. I give thanks for the saints of old, like the Apostle Paul, who reveals that joy IS possible in the depth of human pain. Lord knows I’ve needed their witness more often than not. In my same blog post as a new mom, I wrote: “My first week of being a new mom was not awesome. There, I said it. Positive, happy-go-lucky Emily did not have a great week. This is not to say that I didn’t have moments of joy, because I couldn’t help but discover joy in Briggs’ serene face after a feeding. He is truly remarkable, and it gives me pleasure holding him while he happily coos. Even so, Briggs and I are still working on his latching issues, I’m still fighting off mastitis, and those pesky hormones still arise to remind me of how well I cry.” As we move our hearts toward Christmas, the sacred story of Jesus’ birth, I hope we make space in our hearts to hold both joy & the depth of human emotions, whatever they may be for you. This is what God reveals in the birth of a divine child to a human mother. Joy moves us toward hope beyond current circumstances. Mary believed holding joy, alongside every single emotion a new mom faces, is possible. May we find ourselves moved beyond momentary happiness to claim an identity as people of joy. Rejoice in the Lord always- again I say rejoice. Paul & Mary lead the way.
0 Comments
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah, "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'" Last Sunday afternoon Blaire came home and shared the story they learned in Sunday School- in great detail. The story of Jonah and the BIG fish. She gets to the part when the fish burps Jonah onto shore (and although she wasn’t quite sure of the details there) Blaire proclaims with excitement in her eyes, “And God gave him a second chance.” Jonah had been running away from a hard thing, God’s command to be a leader who proclaimed a baptism of repentance to the people of Ninevah; his job was to say “your violence makes God sad, turn over a new leaf; Start again. The irony in the story is that Jonah is also in need of a second chance. So, clearing the seaweed off his shoulders, he decides to proclaim a baptism of repentance in Ninevah after all, because that’s exactly what has saved him. Prophets often share the way of the Lord with others because of a compelling spiritual moment in which rough ways are made smooth, in which they’ve experienced inner clarity like never before. Think Saul who becomes Paul on the road to Damascus- blinded in order to truly see Christ. John the Baptist is another prophet, sent to prepare the way of the Lord by preaching a baptism of repentance--a fancy way of saying turn in a different direction; choose a new path; if you’re truly sorry, don’t do that thing again. Whatever choices are in your control and are hurting you, hurting others, even making God sad, make better choices. John the Baptist is passionate about this message, because he believes we are people worthy of second chances. Because turning away from the world’s insatiable hunger for more (more power, more popularity, more possessions) is what saved him; what can save us all. What can bring us actual peace on earth. Did you notice where John finds himself when the word of the Lord comes to him? He’s in the middle of nowhere--wilderness; not surrounded by a crowd, no warm and comfortable home; certainly not holding any high office. His story begins, though, with a long list of important people in Jesus' day. It’s as if this contrast matters: the Emperor, the governor, the rulers of Galilee, even the high priests- yet none of them are given the word of the Lord. Only this dude who eats bugs & weirds everyone out by how badly he smells; telling folks that a baptism of repentance is how you find peace of mind, heart, and soul. Why repentance? Why is repentance the way to peace? I’ll say it again: Because true repentance hinges on the belief that people are worthy of second chances- yes, even us. Do you believe this? I think it took Jonah a good long while before he believed the violent folks in Ninevah were worthy of a second chance. Heck it took awhile for Jonah to believe HE was worthy of a second chance. I bet John the Baptist would have even doubted his own message had he been alive to witness the Roman Empire torture and kill his cousin Jesus. Are even those who murder worthy of repentance? Jesus says it's true with his dying breath: Forgive them, for they know not what they do. That my friends, is what makes Christ the Prince of Peace. He does the unfathomable- gives a second chance to those who kill him. If that’s not counter-cultural in our day and age, what is? If you are searching for peace, Jesus says you won’t find it in rage, in resentment, in restless searching for more. No, only in repentance. And as a people forgiven, we practice forgiveness as a way of being; we prepare the way of the Lord by preparing our hearts for peace. Repentance means willing to let our hearts be changed: our attitudes, our opinions, our need to be right all the time. That changes when we get serious about Christ’s ways above ours. When we live in the light of grace, our daily decisions will change; We’ll prioritize our time differently; We’ll engage people around us in a new way; we’ll find ourselves talking less in favor of listening more; we’ll act from a heart of contemplation rather than reactionary rage; we’ll see the world as it could be, even when others cannot. That’s how John the Baptist led others to Christ. Preparing the way of the Lord with a vision of peace: "Every valley shall be filled- every mountain made low. Crooked things made straight, and rough ways made smooth.” God is a God of second chances. When I forget to love my neighbor as myself, because I'm overwhelmed with my own issues, Jesus offers me a chance at repentance, turning my heart back to God. When we enact violence against people who don't look or sound like us, Jesus offers us a chance at repentance, turning our hearts back to God. When you forget that you bear the image of God, Jesus invites you to the table and says, “beloved child, you are welcome back into my holy embrace. I am a God of second chances. The work of the Kingdom begins within each of our hearts. It’s the only way to lasting peace, so may we find our hearts opened to the gift of repentance in our lives this Advent. When I'm tempted to act from a place of human insecurity or pain, it helps me to know that I have a role in preparing the way of the Lord...who I am and how I act is significant to God's coming kingdom. The same is true for all us who long for the day when all flesh might know the gift of peace from the Prince of Peace. Transformation from the inside out, until the whole world is aglow with repentance and grace. [Jesus said:] "There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." Then he told them a parable: "Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. "Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man." Does this scripture remind you of an end-times novel? “People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world!” Or maybe a zombie apocalypse movie. “On the earth distress among nations confused.” I even scratch my head a bit at the language “The Son of man coming in a cloud.” Just yesterday we flew back from Denver among the clouds-they’re certainly mysterious, but nothing much to them up close. Why this strange language from Jesus to his disciples? Here’s an interesting fact. Jesus is paraphrasing scripture here. Yes, from the book of Daniel. Okay, cool- but here’s what I really want to know: where’s the hope? In these visions and parables of monumental proportion, what are we to hope for? Jesus says this: Yes, the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Yes, the Son of Man will be coming in a cloud- telling all who have ears to hear that love wins. Yes, the world as we know it-with its abuse and lies and striving to be better than one another- will be no more. And that’s GOOD news. At least for those who are longing for redemption, people to whom the world has not been kind. It’s good news for anyone in need of a do-over in life. It’s good news if you can’t seem to find the strength to go on alone. Because you aren’t. Jesus’ good news is this: none of us have to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps- that’s just a lie the world tells us. The Son of Man is coming- and with him all the glory and power we need in this life. All our grasping for human significance will fade away, for our redemption in Christ is drawing near. Not only is this scripture NOT an end times novel, okay, it’s not futuristic at all! Here’s why. Immediately after this teaching, Jesus sits down to his final supper with his disciples. The heavens being shaken? He’s talking about tomorrow on the cross. This hope is not some far off fantasy for Jesus- its the motivation that called him to lay down his life. HE became the sign of hope- for a world he believed deserves better than violence. He is the sign of hope for a new kingdom on earth, one fashioned by the Prince of Peace. And that story of redemption begins in a manger. Whatever you know of Christ’s birth-the story of Christmas in its nostalgic fondness, remember it includes the radical truth that God became incarnate (flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone) so we don’t have to be alone in the struggle. We are worthy enough for God to save us from ourselves- by becoming one of us. A God willing to meet us where we’re at is a God I’m willing to worship. Friends, I don’t know what your struggle is today, but I know you have one, or two, or a few. I know we all wrestle with fear, with inadequacy, with uncertainty, with our sense of worth. “People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world;” YES, and if that’s us today, Jesus with a strong and sure voice commands us: be alert and pray so you have the strength to overcome those fears. When I am afraid of what’s to come, here’s what helps me: I believe what Jesus says is true: “The kingdom of God is near.” “Stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” In fact, friends, it’s already here. We get to enter the anticipation of Advent knowing how the story unfolds. Jesus creates this eternal realm of hope for each of us to live into today. That’s what the kingdom of God is: a place filled with every hope that life-change is real. How does it work, exactly, this kingdom on earth as it is in heaven? First- we pray it, and we mean it. Every week we usher in the kingdom of God (a new way of living in love that counters the evil around us and within us). And then we become the answer to our own prayers. This is where you all join the Christmas story: you become the hands and feet, the body of Christ. Where’s the hope? YOU are the hope. YOU are my hope. We are hope in the flesh. And not because we’re super-human enough to do it alone, but because we choose to join Christ in the story of showing up for one another. So how about it, church? Are you in need of a life change today? Is your heart weighed down by the worries of this life? If advent isn’t a time to embrace hope, when is? Listen, if you can’t seem to muster hope in your soul today, don’t worry. “Stand up and raise your heads,” look around you. We are gifted this beloved community (just like our baptism today affirms) for this very purpose. Holding onto hope for one another, trusting Christ to give us strength, our daily bread. It was no accident that God entered the world as a baby, vulnerable enough to know the struggle is real. Hopeful enough to know it gets better. Advent is when we begin to see our story of redemption unfold yet again. And we wonder- what hope will it hold for me this year? for all of us? My prayer is this: That we would find new strength by inviting someone else to hold hope with us this season. This requires sharing something deep of ourselves, asking something deep of another. Reaching out for help can be more of a challenge than the struggle itself. Yet being vulnerable enough to acknowledge the struggle in our lives might also be the path of hope- our journey toward redemption. You are the hope- we are hope in the flesh when we choose to join Christ in the story of showing up for one another. If Advent isn’t a time to embrace hope, when is? The Paradox of Generosity: Good Stewardship Grows Faith as we Spend, Share & Save Matthew 6: 19-2111/21/2021 In the same sermon Jesus offers The Lord’s Prayer, which we reverently offer as a holistic reminder of our identity each week, he says this: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Our decisions around money begin forming at an early age. A lot of life does, more than we might admit. So I think it’s interesting for us all to consider what we learned about finances from our families of origin. It wasn’t until I began filling out the FAFSA worksheet for student loans in HS that I paid much attention to my family’s income. We were fairly well-off, but didn’t live extravagantly by any means (I wore hand-me-downs and home-sewn clothes, and we NEVER ordered drinks at a restaurant--the few times we would eat out); but we had a large house, a beautiful acreage, lots of animals- none of that comes without solid income and hard work, I now know. So this one day, I’m at the computer plugging in numbers for the FAFSA, my dad sitting next to me, and he says something pretty shocking. He and my mom chose to give away roughly 20% of their income each year to ministries and non-profits. 20%! That’s way above the 10% tithe I learned about in the bible! But as I look back at my family’s values, it makes sense. A life of faith was always the highest value in our household- not eating out, not expensive clothes, not the newest shoes. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” To this day, I’m pretty blown away by my parents' convictions around giving; although I strive for similar generosity, I definitely am still not giving 20% away. Here’s the truth we all must face: Money and other material objects drive SO much of our life decisions-and our values. We also don’t talk about it with each other to the degree it matters to our wellbeing. Talking about what’s enough (and ensuring equitable resources in our communities) and what’s too much (how the weight of hoarding resources is actually bad for our health) just doesn’t happen in ordinary conversation. When’s the last time you shared with someone the percentage of your income you give away each year? When’s the last time any of us attempted to figure that out? The way we use money matters not only to our physical and emotional wellbeing, but to our spirits. Rev. Molly Baskette & psychologist Ellen O’Donnell in their book “Bless this Mess.” say it well: “Money is a deeply spiritual issue, because it has so much power over our feelings and relationships.” Jesus knows it matters to be clear about the grip of finances and material possessions on our lives; he’s acutely aware of our physical needs, because he had them too, and he wants us all to have “enough,” but not at the expense of losing our wellbeing by having “too much.” In Jesus’ sermon on the mount today, he’s teaching something totally counter-cultural. He’s explaining the paradox of generosity. Here it is: we humans are not created for hoarding more than we need. That kind of excess actually becomes real spiritual baggage. We have to worry about someone stealing it, or whatever our modern day moths and rust might be. When we hold onto more than we need, we acquire more headaches, more guilt, more trouble. Jesus offers an alternative to this suffocating way of living in excess- and it’s brilliantly counterintuitive. Give more away and you’ll have more spiritual treasure. The paradox of generosity. I want to acknowledge that some folks find themselves on the other end of the inequality divide in this country- struggling to make ends meet as income trends don't keep up with cost of living. It’s also true in 21st Century America, most of us can spend less and give more away. How? By doing a simple reflection of our everyday practices around money. So let’s do it! Guided by wisdom from Molly & Ellen, we reflect on three basic units of financial health: How we spend, save, and share our money. First SPEND: Molly & Ellen suggest, “It’s easy to confuse our wants and our needs. It’s easy to buy into the myth of personal financial scarcity when the buzz of advertising reinforces what we don’t yet have. We measure our success by how well we are doing in comparison with (how we imagine) our immediate neighbors. Even our biology works against us: the dopamine hit of retail therapy provides instant gratification, unlike the slow, lasting soul-satisfaction of giving that same $75 to a refugee camp or local shelter.” p. 117 I have no interest in telling you exactly how you ought to spend your money; I can tell you that reflecting on the values your money reveals is worth it. I’ve learned, for example, that eating out can occasionally be a great use of our resources (maybe even buying a drink), because it meets a basic need and allows local service industries to flourish. That’s a value I now hold. I’m curious what examples you might add to this conversation about “spending your values?” Maybe that means supporting local and ethically-managed businesses; maybe your value is caring for the environment, so you frequent Hospice Thrift Store (there’s a shameless plug); maybe for you it means spending on behalf of bringing people together for an event. Whatever your values may be, let’s keep this conversation going. So what about SAVING: This matters too, right? “How much is enough,” is what Molly & Ellen titled their chapter on finances. It’s a great question. How much do we, the Munger family of four looking toward college, retirement, future unknowns, choose to save? And in what ways ought we save responsibly for the future? These are hard questions with no easy answers, so I’d like to focus on the ethics of our decision-making more than the dollar amount. In the same sermon on the mount we hear today, Jesus also offers this reminder: “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”—Matthew 6:34 What I hear in this brilliant sermon from Jesus is a call to release fear from our decision-making. Are we squirreling away every penny we’ve earned for some future catastrophe- in fear of what COULD BE? Are we afraid to give money away, even when our needs are being met, because worry consumes us? Are we saving too much that it’s become a burden to manage and a conflict in family relationships? If fear is driving your decision to save money, perhaps it’s time to revisit the values that guide your saving plan. Jesus wants us to be set free from fear, living into the abundant mindset of faith. The best for last: what about SHARING: My third-grade SS class, under the direction of my mother, sponsored a child through a ministry program called Compassion International. In my teen years, my sister and I chose to share sponsorship of a young girl from South America through Compassion, because it was a compelling premise: we send money directly to local churches serving the holistic needs of an impoverished community. Like making sure they have a school to attend, shoes on their feet, food for strength, birthday and Christmas gifts for dignity; best of all, they prioritise relationships- ensuring kids who are sponsored get a chance to correspond often with their sponsor families. I’ve been a sponsor for several kids over the course of 20 years now. Wanna know how I acquired a third sponsor kid in addition to the two I already had? I married AJ! Yes, that was part of my attraction to him- he’s the kind of guy who sponsors a kid? I’m in! So if you’re single, just sayin. Here’s what I’ve gained from 20 years of sponsorship: It’s one of the best ways to refocus my values. Do I really need this new pair of shoes, or could Tiger, my 16 year-old sponsor kid from Thailand benefit more? My values become more obvious with real people’s lives in the balance. I can tell you what settles my soul more than a new pair of shoes- sharing with others. A large national survey that became the impetus for a book entitled “The Paradox of Generosity” by Christian Smith & Hilary Davidson, “reveals a direct correlation between generosity and joy. Regularly giving of our time, money, and effort makes us less anxious, less afraid, and downright happier.” Do we need more reason than that to believe the paradox of generosity is real? There is no magic formula for how you and I best spend, save, and share- but you’ll feel the paradox of generosity when it happens. You’ll know deep within that it’s worth investing wisely, storing up spiritual treasures that outweigh material wealth every time. Investing our personal resources for the spiritual good of ourselves, our families, our church, and our world matters. One intentional decision at a time creates a world in which our hearts are truly reflected in our use of money. Thank you for being the kind of generous community that inspires me to keep reflecting on my own financial values; heck, maybe one day I’ll even reach that 20% giving I learned long ago from my parents. May the paradox of generosity be within each of us in this season of giving. Amen! Today is All Saints Sunday, a time of powerful reflection on what matters most in life. It’s a day when we allow grief and loss to focus our priorities. What’s this life for, anyway? In our search for meaning, we turn to Jesus in Mark 12: 38-44 “As he taught, he said, "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation." He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on." What’s this life for, anyway? Jesus makes this much clear: it’s NOT about keeping up appearances. Oh but how we try anyway; at least that’s what advertisements sell us: the idea that gaining things will give us respect in this world- AND publicly making large contributions to causes will too. Be showy, go big, even if it's at the expense of someone else’s wellbeing. Not unlike the Pharisees, yes? So what is it about this woman, this widow, that Jesus lifts to prominence today? What of her story might move you and I to be more mindful of our life’s meaning? Jesus says she’s put more into the treasury. That her two small copper coins meant more, somehow, than the larger sums of others. Why? We know faith institutions rely on small and large gifts alike to function. So here’s what we need to know about this woman’s situation. She risked all she had to worship. Her two small coins were a mighty declaration of her God-given right to be in that space...to occupy her place at God's holy table. You see, it's possible she was one of the widow's whose houses were devoured by powerful religious community leaders. A scribe who said long prayers in public and in darkened corners made rules that stripped this widow of her home and dignity-maybe even her ability to attend a place of worship. The most likely historical situation is either a scribe demanding too much of a tithe to enter the temple OR a scribe mismanaging a widow’s assets, because they had that kind of power. Here’s what we know for sure: Jesus declares the last shall be first and the first shall be made last over and again in the Gospel. Of this we can be sure: Jesus lifted those oppressed by their lot in life and systems that kept them from rising. And this woman is no stranger to risk; as those coins fall into the box, I can almost hear her thoughts: “I deserve to be here too.” She takes a remarkable risk--her whole life-- for the sake of worship, because she knows her worth in the eyes of God. Because she believes. And here’s what I love most: Jesus notices her. I sense it’s not the coins so much as the statement she makes. The value she places in being a part of a worshipping community; that is why Jesus honors her and not the scribes seeking public attention. I struggle at times knowing how best to prioritize my energy, my finances, my time, my patience, do you too? It’s tough with a thousand flashing messages daily consuming our attention. And then I hear a story like this, one that’s stood the test of time- and I KNOW deep within my soul, this is the kind of saint I want to learn from. The kind of woman who embodies generosity and fortitude and a belief that being together in worship is what makes us stronger; a woman who takes risks to confront unjust systems around her. She uses her very presence to counter the hypocrisy she sees in the temple she loves. She shows up to say everyone belongs here, even widows like me. You are in church today, so I’m guessing you know something of this deep need to worship, to feel closer to your God, to belong. On All Saints Sunday, as we lift the names of our beloved who’ve gone before us, let’s never confuse honor and prestige with belonging. A saint is not made saintly by good works- but by God’s grace alone. And lest we be tempted to pursue honor or prestige like the scribes, we have this saintly widow to guide our way. To remind us our lives were created to worship the one who counts each hair on our head. Of course we have plenty of saints guiding us. Who’s yours? The person whose life spoke deep and worshipful purpose into your life? I have a suggestion- you can take it or leave it. I would like to receive a letter from you (an email is fine too) sometime this week, about a saint whose life influences your own. I’d love to learn from them too. And I’d love to hear what it is about their being that leads you closer to God’s grace. That kind of living, purposeful reflection and giving of oneself is how our church thrives. It was in the days of Jesus and the widow, and it remains true for me, for you. Friends, I’m excited about what God is doing among us. Like, really excited. Each year, All Saints Sunday leads us into Stewardship season, when we get to refocus our priorities, to ask the question, “what’s this life for, anyway?” If you find the widow’s answer of worship true for you as well, won’t you look for information in the mail this week about our pledge drive? Won’t you discern with me what of your energy, finances, time, and patience you might like to invest in our worshipping body in 2022? And as we all consider what we might offer this church’s future vitality, we recall this saint of a widow and her story. It’s not the dollar amount that matters to God, it never is- it's the heart of generosity and risk for the sake of something greater than our own ambition. So this November, let’s set our priorities with generous spirits, giving out of hearts of worship. Amen! [A few excerpts] of today’s story from The Monologue from Ruth written by Griff Martin, published by First Baptist Church of Austin, TX in 2017. [Plenty of people think my story is a “happily ever after,” a love story for the ages. As if I’ve had time for fairytales. That’s not to say I don’t love my Boaz; I do. My second husband is a good man, but my story is about so much more:] like becoming a widow; the grit and grace that saw me through the shadows of grief; the purpose I found in letting one dream die to make way for something new. I still ponder how all the pieces fit together to make me whole again… I met my first husband and his whole family when they moved to my country, Moab, from the land of Judah. [Oh, we had visions of green pastures, flocks of sheep], big family dinners, Moab is the place that brought us together- the place we would raise our kids. My husband’s family were Ephrathites, productive and fruitful by namesake. And I held onto this dream... until the nightmare began. Before either my sister-in-law Orpah or I could watch our promises fulfilled in childbirth, our husbands were gone. [One by one, all of the men in our family died. First my father in law, then my brother in law, then finally my own husband.] Our sense of security and belonging torn at the seams. We had nothing but grief. Three grieving widows, together in our loneliness and pain. [Naomi, my mother in law, she too is a good woman, a just woman]; when she decided to return to her homeland of Judah once the famine lifted, she insisted I find another husband in Moab. She knew how much I longed for a family- to see my dream of having children fulfilled. [She told Orpah the same thing. Orpah did, she went back to her mother’s home. I couldn’t. I wasn’t worried about being welcomed back, I think I would have.] But I knew home and I knew the life that was destined for me there. When I met my immigrant husband and the God of his people, my perspectives changed- I saw light in the future, the expansive promise of love fulfilled, a new way of life that was generous and filled with hope. I could no longer be the person my family expected of me. I could not go back in time- only forward. And Naomi, she softened the sting of loneliness after my husband died, kind soul that she is. I could not leave her; she of all people is the one who taught me loyalty of the heart. She accepted me into her family as a daughter. She lifted my dignity to that of equal. She taught me to rejoice in meeting new people and encountering different cultures. I was concerned about her wellbeing, yes; but it was more than that. She represented a future that I believed in. She led a family that was willing to leave their homeland, embracing every challenge with a steady heart; she embodied a dream that I still wanted, somehow being with her became my source of hope. And I would not leave hope or family behind. So we journeyed on to yet another unknown. [Without a penny to our names, I promised Naomi and I promised the dream within me that I would not abandon them]: “Do not press me to leave you, or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go. Where you lodge, I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God! Where you die, I will die- there will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me and more as well, if even death parts me from you.” That’s what I said, and I meant it. You see, once you’ve had a dream, once you’ve seen a better way, once you’ve felt like you’re a part of something greater than yourself...it’s impossible to go back to the way things had been. I left the familiar home of Moab on a dream. I left with the gritty feeling of sorrow and hope, trust and belonging guiding each step of the way. Naomi’s God inspired my own faith that more was possible that we might be able to see. And I stepped into the unseen future, trusting that someone would be there waiting for me. I couldn’t yet know how Naomi’s God would become my savior; I suppose that’s why it’s called faith. Our journey back to Judah was grueling, but we worked out our grief on the way. And when we returned to the land of my husband’s ancestors, I discovered a future filled with new promise and prosperity. And that part of my story, meeting my new husband Boaz, that part is truly a blessing fulfilled. I received a new husband who was willing to see to it that my first husband’s name was honored. And friends, here’s my very favorite part: I finally had a baby, a son! A son. We named him Obed! Oh I held onto that little bundle of promise, nurturing him with the love of God I had received. Each time I rocked him to sleep, I told him the story of us, how we came to be, despite all the odds against us. I held onto my dream, because the faith of my husband’s family became a part of my journey too; I know deep in my soul that God creates goodness out of terrible things. They say my great-grandson David became king of God’s people. I was chosen to be a part of God’s unfolding love story because I decided to believe that God could love even someone like me. Now that’s a good story, right? Dreams are not for the faint of heart, but they do come true (mostly in ways we could never imagine). Praise be to the God who loves even me. They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" Jesus stood still and said, "Call him here." And they called the blind man, saying to him, "Take heart; get up, he is calling you." So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man said to him, "My teacher, let me see again." Jesus said to him, "Go; your faith has made you well." Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way. We don't know much of Bartimaeus' life story, but I can tell you this much: it takes real guts to believe in healing when you’ve been told you’re not worthy of it your whole life. “Quiet, Bartimaeus, Jesus doesn’t have time for you.” I mean, that’s literally what folks are saying, “you’re not worthy of healing.” Have you ever heard that message? Do you still hear a voice saying “you’re so messed up, no one can fix that!” How many times does it take, hearing that message, before we just give up? What am I thinking, I don’t deserve healing. I’m a lost cause. Thank God Bartimaeus didn’t believe that. He may not have conventional sight, but what he does have is wisdom, real insight that can only be explained by faith. He believes that Jesus DOES have time for him. Can you imagine the courage it takes to advocate for airtime w/ the man you believe is Messiah? Can you fathom the trust needed to reach out with no conventional ability to see this man you believe in? Your hand batted away by prejudiced bystanders, and still you insist on being heard. Because Bartimaeus believed that he was worthy of abundant life, this miraculous encounter happens- and continues to provide you and I the courage it takes to reach out for help. We don’t have to listen to the voices telling us we're not worthy. Because our faith insists that God is big enough, powerful enough, loving enough to hear everyone in their moment of need. You may know the name Malala. On the morning of October 9, 2012, 15-year-old Malala Yousafzai was shot by the Taliban, on a bus to school. And what had she done to deserve it? She spoke up about the right for all people to receive an education, even girls. “Have mercy on us!” was her cry; she too was silenced by prejudiced people, she too, did not take no for an answer. After her miraculous recovery from being shot in the head, Malala began to cry even louder, “Have mercy on us girls, we deserve an education too!” Because Malala believed she was worthy of abundant life, and continues to give us the courage it takes to reach out for help. Something in Bartimaeus & Malala just won’t let go of hope. Something in us just won’t either. We don’t have to be a character in the Bible or Nobel Peace Prize winner to act in courage for what we truly believe in: abundant life for all. What situation might Jesus be inviting you to reconsider in your life? What needs healing? Where might you benefit from change? Now here’s the really tough question: do you have the courage to ask for help? What is Bartimaeus’ motivation to pursue Jesus’ help despite the challenges? We hear the goal clearly at the end of the story: He’s given back his sight. But I think that’s only part of the story. The full picture is this: Bartimaeus, for the first time, is given the gift of pursuing abundant life- on foot- as a traveling disciple of Christ. Freedom to pursue love at last. Do you have that kind of courage? Do you possess the insight that takes you beyond your present circumstance in faith that life could be different? Maybe your courage is clouded by pain. That’s a real thing, right? We can't see the forest for the trees. We can’t imagine what CAN BE because we’re so darn entrenched in what IS. And often what we can see is challenge after challenge, no way out. I have a friend who works as a counselor in Aberdeen; she is so real, so in tune with the grittiness of humanity. And she contends that the #1 reason people don’t reach out for help with their problems is not pride or guilt or even stoicism. It’s a real sense that they’re not worth it. That engaging therapy (or any other potentially life-changing help, like joining a support group or faith community) won’t work for them, because they’ll always be a failure. This is why we don’t walk the road alone. Left to ourselves, none of us may actually believe we’re good enough. But we’ve got a rich history of Bartimaeus’ & Malalas to inspire us with their courage. I believe the first step in pursuing that type of courage is trusting that we’re worth it- and often we become aware of our worth by surrounding ourselves with people who claim this truth for us. You and I are worthy of a Messiah’s attention. You and I are worthy of real change, of redeeming grace. If you haven’t heard it from anyone else in awhile, hear it now: you are worthy of healing. And therapy or counseling may be exactly the tool you need to overcome your challenges to receive a more abundant life. Bartimaeus' story would never have made our scriptures had he simply waved at Jesus as he passed by, resigning himself to his fate. No, he insisted that Jesus could help him. He pursued a more abundant life. He believed that if he didn’t give up on himself, Jesus wouldn’t either. Friends, faith is what keeps us going- and the really good news is: we share a faith! When your faith isn’t strong, I’ll carry it for you. When mine isn’t strong, I trust you will carry mine. Together, with courage, we’ll pursue abundant life in the name of the one who came to save us from ourselves: “Go, your faith has made you well.” The story of Job has been in our lectionary (our 3-year overview of the Bible) this past month. I’ve yet to include it in worship, however, because it cannot be easily diced. It’s understood best as one sweeping story. So to catch us up a bit: Job is a man who is right with God. And because of The Satan’s slimy character, a demand is placed on God to put Job's faith to the test. Because God believes in Job, it happens. Job loses family, health, wealth, everything. And during this time, Job's friends sit with him and try to answer that age-old question: why? In the end, none of their answers satisfy the deep question of why bad things happen to good people. So after 37 chapters of Job's suffering and questioning, God breaks the silence with words that give perspective to Job's life- and each of ours: Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind: "Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me. "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements — surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy? ["Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, so that a flood of waters may cover you? Can you send forth lightning, so that they may go and say to you, 'Here we are'? Who has put wisdom in the inward parts, or given understanding to the mind? Who has the wisdom to number the clouds? Or who can tilt the waterskins of the heavens, when the dust runs into a mass and the clods cling together? "Can you hunt the prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, when they crouch in their dens, or lie in wait in their covert? Who provides for the raven its prey, when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food?"] Who is it, Job, is it you who created every animal and human and thunderstorm in its infinite variety? Is it you, Emily? Can you satisfy the appetite of the young lions? Is it you, church, who has put wisdom in the inward parts? I didn’t think so. God, that feels harsh, especially when life is throwing us too many curve balls already. But there’s a reason Job’s story is in the bible. There’s something happening here that speaks to the depths of what it is to be human, to suffer without answers. God speaking out of a whirlwind feels so appropriate, because the challenges we face are a bit like bracing ourselves against a strong SD wind, feeling the sheer magnitude of a force greater than ourselves at work. And Job’s story asks us to consider God not on the outside looking in, but right in the eye of the storm with us, facing the chaos by our side. If this is true, and we believe God is with us in the storm, how might that change the way we pray through challenges and suffering? How might it shape how we see God in this world, in our own lives? Job’s story is a mirror of our own stories. Maybe your story seems less intense, sure. Occasionally, however, each of us knows deep in our bones that it’s our story too. Think of the last time you asked yourself: Why do bad things happen to good people? Or maybe more to the point: “Why me, God? Why me?” Job’s ancient story is as current as it gets, each of us looking for answers to why we must suffer. And none of us yet able to fathom God’s response. I'd like to flesh out 3 truths in Job's story: 1. Human suffering is unpredictable and unfair. It is. Job was a man full of integrity- and he lost everything, for no fault of his own. Some people live healthy lifestyles and get cancer anyway. “God, why me?” Car accidents end the lives of teenagers. "God, why her?” Suicide happens in families who least expect it. “God, what could I have done?” Infidelity affects marriages of people from all walks of life. “God, how could he?” Children are lost to miscarriages and stillbirths every single day. “God, how dare you!” Life is not fair, nor is suffering predictable. But here’s truth #2. 2. We can question God's silence without losing faith. I think this is key to Job’s universal appeal. Job is in anguish and cries out to God for understanding. He knows his sin has not caused the suffering (even when his friends mistakenly tried to make him believe this). He does want an answer to “why me?” And when God finally speaks, we learn that after all that questioning, God still considers Job a man of faith. To question God is not to lose faith. I need to hear that again, do you? To question God is NOT to lose faith. “Why me, God?” The questions keep us praying, engaged, keep us hoping for greater understanding one day. Questions keep us connected to God, which brings us to truth #3: 3. God does not abandon us, ever. Oh it might feel an awful lot like God has abandoned you when your mom dies young from cancer. It might feel like God doesn’t even exist when we hear the news of missing and murdered indigenous women right here in our community. But just because we feel God is absent, doesn’t make it so. I love this thought from Jim Wallis. After the earthquake in Haiti, when everyone was looking to point spiritual fingers, Wallis said: "My God does not cause evil. God is not a vengeful being, waiting to strike us down; instead, God is in the very midst of this tragedy, suffering with those who are suffering. When evil strikes, it's easy to ask, where is God? The answer is simple: God is suffering with those who are suffering." God never abandoned Job- and God never abandons you and me. I believe this, in a God who suffers alongside us; in fact, it's the only way I can make sense of bad things happening to good people. but I can get to feeling sorry for myself sometimes anyway. Why me? Why melanoma? Why do I have to keep carving parts of my skin out to stay alive? What’s your “why me?” Maybe more importantly, how do you redirect your attention long enough to hear God speak to you out of the whirlwind? Yesterday our family climbed one of these gorgeous buttes by the river. My new excision on my leg was smarting a bit- and at first I paused, the voice inside my head telling me a climb wouldn’t do it any favors….but I kept going and thank God, because I was wrong. When I reached the top of that butte, I heard another voice- the voice of God whistling in the wind, a force much greater than my own self pity. Reminding me to look up, to breathe deeply, to be inspired by a change of perspective. Yes, suffering is unfair. Yes, we question God. Yes, God is still with us. So the next time you and I question “why me?” let’s listen to the voice of one who says, "Who laid this earth's cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?" It wasn't you, Job. It wasn't you, Emily. It wasn't you, church. It wasn’t any of us, was it? We don’t have to know why things happen to trust that God hears our hardship, loves us regardless, and wants to enter into the mess alongside us. This trust doesn't change our circumstances so much as it offers a new way of being in the midst of struggle. A way of faith that we are never, ever alone. I often find the people who have the greatest spiritual peace are those who've been through tremendous suffering and have believed that God was with them the entire time. That's powerful, because it's true, and it's also the answer we've all been waiting for. Amen. 17 As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 18 Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. 19 You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” 20 He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” 21 Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” 22 When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions. 23 Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” 24 And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! 25 It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” 26 They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” 27 Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” 28 Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” 29 Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, 30 who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. 31 But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” Do you know how often I hear someone offer personal remarks at a funeral about someone’s wealth? Never, it doesn’t happen. Even while the family is gathered beforehand, making preparations for the service, money is NOT what’s forefront on their minds. Even amongst friends who knew the deceased well, it doesn’t come up. How rich someone was doesn’t really matter much in the end- most often I have NO clue what anyone’s income is or was, because friends, it doesn’t matter. Not to me, not to God. But what I do hear of is someone’s generous spirit. Is this what Jesus is telling the rich young man in the story? Rev. Molly Baskette, in her theologically-accessible work entitled Bless this Mess, says “When we make the radical decision to give away what we have--even when we’re not certain our own needs will be met--it shifts our thinking (and feeling!) from a scarcity mindset and the instinct to hoard, toward an abundance mindset that changes our whole worldview. Wherever we put our treasure, our hearts catch up. And social science research backs this up: the “paradox of generosity” proves that people who are generous are healthier, happier, and more grateful.” That’s the kind of attitude that people DO remember of folks at their funerals. Maya Angelou says it this way: 'I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.' Deep down every single one of us knows it: relationships matter WAY more than riches or prestige. So why is it really hard to practice? I suspect it's because we have more voices telling us to grab that instant gratification (or dopamine hit) of buying something, than voices that affirm the truth: investing in people over possessions is more satisfying in the end. My grandmother passed away just over a year ago. She had no wealth to speak of; in fact, my dad told me at the end of her life she had less than $2,000 in a checking account, which more or less covered the final expenses. Her last financial transaction was giving $20,000 to a Chinese missionary she held a long-time connection with. I chuckled to learn this, and for a second I felt a little conflicted- like maybe her grandkids ought to have received that money. But then it dawned on me, she actually gave each of us grandkids that same amount: $20,000 when it mattered most- all of us were pursuing higher education at the time. She did not neglect her family, she simply allowed her generosity to extend even further- and that’s what we talked about at her funeral. Every bit of my being knows this: I want to be like that someday. Friends, she was one of the richest people I’ve ever known, because she invested in what matters most: relationships. That’s the message Jesus is conveying. The kingdom of God is NOT about earthly wealth, and to enter God’s embrace, we must be willing to give up whatever earthly thing stands between us and God- even if that’s our wealth. This lawyer in the story isn’t quite ready to do that. And even the disciples who have given up everything question him. “We all have some possessions, Jesus, how are we to enter God’s kingdom?” Do you find yourself asking that question when you hear this story? I do. My home? Am I supposed to downsize, Jesus? My vehicle? My smartphone? What?” And Jesus' response is profound. He says, “It’s hard, I know. In fact it’s SO hard, it’s impossible.” I’m sorry. So you just gave that guy an impossible way to get into heaven? Sell everything and it still won’t be enough? Jesus can be tricky, right? If we keep listening, keep curiosity in our hearts, we hear Jesus come to the point of it all: “Many who are first will be last, and the last will be first, so prepare yourselves.” Molly Baskette asks, “What if the reason Jesus was so severe with the rich young entrepreneur was not that there were so many poor people who needed a handout, but that Jesus knew that too much of the man’s security and fulfillment was linked to his stuff? What if Jesus knew that, counterintuitively, the way to “come into eternal life” or what we might call the juiciest kind of life, was to have less, not more?” What is it that you strive for? What is it that your time and energy and yes, even your finances are investing in? If it’s possessions, power, or prestige, know this: those will be your only (and short-lived) reward. In fact, I can guarantee how much stuff you’ve accumulated in life won’t even come up at your funeral. But if we strive for the kind of relationships Jesus is all about “love God, love your neighbor, too” then we may be set free from the endless cycle of accumulating things to receive the true reward of relationships. “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” Jesus says to his disciples, who’ve literally left everything behind, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age [...] and in the age to come eternal life.” It’s a promise that playing the long game, living sacrificially in the moment, will inevitably be more fulfilling. This radical hospitality characterizes the Jesus movement from its early beginnings- to such a degree that we 21st Century Christians cringe a bit to hear about how all possessions were shared in common, distributed according to need. And while we each have a different level of need, to be sure, a common thread emerges for us all: when we care more about possessions than people, we’ve lost our way. Jesus says, “It’s hard, I know. In fact it’s SO hard, it’s impossible for you to do. So you and I are going to do it together.” Friends, together in the name of Jesus, we can learn how to give until it hurts, and keep on giving until it feels good again. That is true generosity at work. The Wosepka family decided early this year to invest in what matters: a church infrastructure project that will revitalize our space for making connections, for creating relationships that last. And they do so in memory of Jim’s parents Verly & Louise, who I’m told invested their hearts into this faith family for decades. It’s a true joy to hear these stories emerge of Lousie’s steady hand in organizing the Christmas Tea, of their commitment to raising their children in faith. Stories like this remind us of the possibility that our legacies live long after we’ve left this earth. And what’s remembered most is not a dollar amount, but a commitment of the heart. This Tuesday Jim stopped by to see the finished project, expressed gratitude for every single person who had a hand in making it possible. I was also setting up for Messy Church when he stopped by, so I explained the premise, an all-age creative worship space centered in Christ’s love, and he smiled and said, “It really has to be about the youth, doesn’t it?” I looked at the easily cleaned floors and chuckled as I envisioned using all that paint in Messy Church. And we left that space on Jim’ remark, “well, I better let you get on with that messy party.” That’s the stuff of a Christ-centered community. One big messy party where we share and care for each other, reaping spiritual benefit a hundredfold. Rich in relationships created. May each of us experience the true joy of generosity this week- and may we share that transforming love of Christ with another. Thanks be to God for this good news today! Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. 8 Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 9 This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. 10 This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. 11 Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 12 No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. 13 This is how we know that we live in him and he in us: He has given us of his Spirit. 14 And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. 15 If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in them and they in God. 16 And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. 17 This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. 18 There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. 19 We love because he first loved us. 20 Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen. 21 And he has given us this command: Anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister. What keeps humans divided from each other? This is the question the author of 1 John is tackling. I’d even say it's THE question we must answer as Christians who believe we are all one in Christ Jesus. So what divides us? Ideological differences? Cultural misunderstandings? Skin color? Favorite NFL team? Level of education? Political party? Geographical accent? Income level? Where we get our news? Who we love? The size of our bodies? What we spend our time and resources pursuing? Yes! In a real way, each of these distinctions has the potential to divide us… (you can add to this list, I’m sure). But you and I also know that what distinguishes us doesn’t always divide us, it doesn’t. So what’s really going on- what keeps us from taking seriously this command: vs. 7 “Friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.” Everything that has the potential to divide does so because of one common element. Fear. We fear what is different. We fear what we don’t know. We fear, in part, because that’s a real survival mechanism for humanity. It’s gotten us this far: Reject the unfamiliar, it may cause us harm. But you know what else causes real harm? Fear itself. Even all these years after Christ emerges on earth, we are still battling the one thing that keeps us from true love, that causes deep pain and oppression. And the author of this text says it directly: “In this world we are [to be] like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” An Harvard research project called “The chill of fear,” outlines what happens within our brains when we sense something unusual. Our brain’s amygdala (that triggers a fight, flight, or freeze response) is immediately activated. In less than a second, our bodies and minds tell us to fear someone different than us, even before we have a chance to encounter that person. In fact, an averted eye gaze actually signals MORE fear. You know what calms our brains down? Turning toward the thing that frightens us: “A direct gaze signals an interaction between participants who know themselves to be non-threatening.” Could something as simple as eye contact or a shared smile be the answer to reducing fear? I hope for that today, in the name of Christ who unites us. We all have innate fear, AND we all have what it takes to rise above it in the name of love. Just as we have an instant fight, flight, or freeze response, we also have an innate spirit of generosity and goodness. Vs. 13 “This is how we know that we live in Christ and he in us: He has given us of his Spirit.” So then let’s just love everyone, right? Okay! Until the next time my amygdala immediately flags a potential fear. Here’s the truth, It’s the work of a lifetime, to recognize the fear within us and overcome it with faith. I have developed a rather strange practice in recent years. It’s something I notice when I’m out for a run, at the park, in someone’s home, really anywhere. And it’s a weird thing to say out loud, but here it is: I smile at dogs. That’s right, those four-footed tail-wagging creatures that make countless human beings happy. So why would I have to practice smiling? Well, here’s the thing that’s even weirder to say out loud: I have a dog phobia- I’m terrified of all dogs. I don’t consciously hate them, but something in my amygdala tells me I do. If you happen to have a phobia of snakes, or spiders, or mice, or I don't know, your... next door neighbor, you understand the physiological effects of a phobia. Your heart begins to race, maybe you tense up, and you can tell yourself “it’s fine, it’s fine,” but when that spider or snake or person heads in your direction, you freak out! That’s how it works for me. I see a dog coming: “They’re nice, they’re nice, everybody loves dogs, Emily,” but as soon as that dog moves in my direction, even with a fence between us, “Ahh!!!” That's what happens inside my otherwise quite rational mind. Sometimes the “ahhhh!” happens out loud, in a really embarrassing way. The most common thing I hear from these well-intentioned dog owners (who clearly don’t have a phobia) is “they’re friendly, I promise!” Okay, thanks, I’d love to believe it. So I smile at dogs, now, any chance I get. Because I refuse to give into the irrational patterns of thought that tell me all dogs are bad. Nearly two years ago, I even said yes to adding a dog into our household. And I have grown a distant affection for Rocket, but to this day, when that weirdly erratic border collie sniffs me, I tense us. Gah, get away! It’s a work of a lifetime, to recognize the fear within us and overcome it with faith. The very best therapy for any fear is EXPOSURE. I joked a bit about having a phobia of our neighbors, but social anxiety or agoraphobia/fear of strangers is pretty darn common. And it doesn’t have to be someone from another country or race; often we live in fear of those within our own communities, even our own circles. Maybe it’s a heated conversation we once had; maybe we hold a real difference in values, as evidenced by the political sign in their front lawn; it could be they’ve been passive-aggressively speaking about you to an acquaintance- and just knowing that makes you grit your teeth. I’d venture to say that people phobias are a lot more common than dog phobias, and fear of other people affects our ability to live peaceably on this one shared earth that God has given us. Our sacred texts remind us: “Anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister.” Period. We’ve got our work cut out for us, for sure. In fact- this work is a big part of today’s World Communion Sunday. To sit at the table with SO MANY others that practice Christ’s love differently than we do, is to say our fears of diverse expressions of humanity will NOT win the day. We even sit at this table and acknowledge God’s love for those who choose NOT to sit at table with us. That’s how much more powerful Christ’s love is than our own fears. And what’s the very best therapy for overcoming the fear of something? Expose ourselves to it! In this sacred space, on World Communion Sunday, we open our hearts to appreciate just how diverse God’s creation truly is. And we are changed by it- made stronger in the presence of one another. Here’s the truth- we MUST derive our love from God if we expect it to hold up against our human propensity to fear. New Interpreters Commentary: “God’s persistent, encouraging presence--not fear of judgment to come-- is experienced in the lives of those who entrust themselves to Christ and who activate that trust in love for one another.” Faith overcomes fear, every time. In the end, the ability to love deeper than our innate fears will always be a gift. New Interpreters: “God has decided in our favor apart from our ability to reciprocate, gracing us with love prior to and independent of any response we might offer, for no reason other than that love is the very nature of God that is knowable by human beings.” May you and I know perfect love this week, if only for a moment, when we release our fear in faith that God’s love can mend every human divide. Even with that person who makes us go “ahhhhhh!!!!!” inside. Amen to that! |
Rev. Emily Mungerdelights in connecting sacred texts with everyday life. Sermon Archives
August 2023
|