Sunday, October 25, 2015

Waters of New Life


October 25, 2015
Revelation 22:1-7, 14-17

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. Nothing accursed will be found there any more. But the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him; they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.

And he said to me, “These words are trustworthy and true, for the Lord, the God of the spirits of the prophets, has sent his angel to show his servants what must soon take place.”
7 “See, I am coming soon! Blessed is the one who keeps the words of the prophecy of this book.”

14 Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by the gates. 15 Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and fornicators and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.
16 “It is I, Jesus, who sent my angel to you with this testimony for the churches. I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star.”
17 The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.”
And let everyone who hears say, “Come.”
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.


Sermon: “Waters of New Life”

Confession time: I’m a pretty annoying person to watch a movie with, especially if that movie has any element of mystery to it.  You see, I will make it my personal mission to figure out the major plot questions before they are revealed.  I’ll make (sometimes wild) predictions about who did what and why, and I’m not at all shy about sharing those thoughts.  My sister, who much prefers to watch a movie in pure silence, is particularly vexed by this habit of mine.

You see, I want to know the end of the story, before it happens. 

We all do, don’t we? 

It’s why this book of the Bible, whose full title is actually “The Revelation of Jesus Christ” is so compelling.  We think we’re getting a sneak peek at the end of things, and it makes us feel more in control of the future, and not just that, but the present time, too.  We’re not, of course, in control of the future: Jesus Christ is, which is what this whole book is trying to tell us. 

This book isn’t a road map for the end times, allowing us to skip ahead in the story, though many read it that way.  In truth, when this vision was given to John on Patmos, most of his words were seen as political commentary on events of the day, with parallels between different fantastical characters and oppressors of his time.  It was not read, dissected, analyzed and studied by the early church.  The Revelation of Jesus Christ was enacted.  Put simply: it was a play!  The first Christians used this book as art, and it was to do exactly what art is supposed to do: shed light on reality, in a new and powerful and dramatic way.  That reality was, and is, very clear: Jesus, the Lamb, is the center of everything that was, and is, and everything that is to come.

This type of literature is different than wisdom literature in the Bible, historical narratives, epistles and Gospels.  This genre of writing is called “apocalyptic” and is in good company with the prophets.  The word “revelation” actually is “apocalypse.”  Sounds a bit scary, doesn’t it?

If this is a peek at the end of the story of all things, and that ending is “apocalypse,” it’s no wonder people get a little nervous about it, and make books and movies about it.  But, as pastor Darrell Johnson reminds us, “apocalypse” was an everyday word in Jesus’ time.  If you opened a cupboard to find something important to you, that word was apocalypse.  If you opened a door to welcome a neighbor into your home, that word was apocalypse.  If you pulled back a curtain to let in the morning light, that word was…you guessed it…apocalypse.  It means “breaking through from hiddenness” or more simply, revealing. 

So, this book isn’t meant to strike fear into all who hear it.  It isn’t meant to make us point to hurricanes and wars and disasters as “proof” of Jesus coming soon.  It’s meant to make us take a hard look at our reality now, and ask a very daring question, “Where is Jesus being revealed here and now?”  I’m not, by the way, saying that Jesus is hiding in your kitchen cupboard.

You see, even though I get a real kick out of figuring out the end of the story, The Revelation of Jesus Christ, this book, is telling me to let go of my need to speculate.

Because the ending isn’t up to me, or you.  It’s up to Jesus, the Lamb, the one who will be in the very center, in the heart of a city in a new heaven and earth we won’t understand until the right time. 

The ending will be much like the beginning, flowing with water.  As it all began with waters in Genesis, here we see that the most distinctive feature of this city will be the river running through it.  A river of the water of life, with trees being fed by that water, and people being fed by those trees, until the nations are healed.  When Christ is at the center of all things, this is what the world will look like.
And so the word spoken in that city will not be “fear.”  That word, spoken over and over again, began in Genesis when God first said, “Come, let us make humankind in our image…”  It is a word echoed in the prophets who called people to come back to faithfulness when they had forgotten God and their neighbor.  It is a word echoed by Jesus when he said, “Come, you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest.”

The word, as you might guess, that word at the end of it all, will be, “Come.”  The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” And let everyone who hears say, “Come.” And let everyone who is thirsty come.  Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.”

The final word, at the end of all things, will be an invitation to receive the gift of the water of life.  The final word, then, is grace.
So, we don’t need to analyze and speculate about the end of the story, because we’re not the ones who utter that word.  The Word Made Flesh is.  Jesus Christ, the Lamb, will have the last word.  And if we’ve learned nothing else, I hope we’ve learned that we can, and should, trust him.

The end of the story isn’t up to us.  But how we see the revelation – the apocalypse, the revealing – of Jesus Christ here and now, breaking into our time, well, that is up to us. 

We have cupboards to open, to share what we have with those in need.  We have doors to open, to let it the stranger and refugee.  We have curtains to open, to let in the light, especially for those who find that an impossible task.  We have hearts to open, minds to open, to find our Lord where he already is. 

It is so tempting to skip ahead to the end of the story and pretend we have it all figured out better than God or anyone else.  But living in the present time, “bearing witness [to Jesus Christ] on good days and evil” as the Confession of 1967 puts it, requires much more of us.

It requires us to ask, if the end will be a river of life, where are drops of that holy water already raining down in our midst now?  As we’ve seen these past 7 weeks, we find hints of how that water comes through the one story of scripture.

We see that, when waters overwhelmed the earth in Noah’s time, God changed towards grace – choosing never, ever, to use water or any other disaster as punishment for sin again, something essential to remember when we are tempted to too quickly explain the reasons for hardship.

We see that, when refugees were thirsty and desperate, God quenched their thirst through someone willing to be a part of it all, Moses.  So God uses ordinary people to still create miracles today.

We see that, when a nation forgot the poor, and thus forgot their God, God called for justice and righteousness to flow like never-ending waters.  This is still God’s dream for our world.

We see that, when Jesus walked the earth, he began his ministry in the waters of the Jordan being baptized, that all who would follow him to those baptismal waters would hear that voice of belonging saying, “You are my child, my beloved, I am pleased with you.”

We see that, when Jesus’ disciples were tossed about in stormy waters and felt abandoned, Jesus came right in time, and was never beyond their reach.  So, no storm can make us beyond the caring grasp of God.

So you see, that river of life that will flow through the city of God, bright as crystal, is already being fed by many, many waters.  The waters of scripture, the waters of our lives: of tears of laughter and of sorrow, of parents bathing their children in the kitchen sink, of sweet tea on a porch, of washing our face after a long day and feeling refreshed. 

At the beginning of this series, I quoted one line from one of my favorite movies, A River Runs Through It, written by Presbyterian minister Norman McLean.  Today, at the ending of this series, I want to share the full passage, (which is, by the way, telling you the ending of the movie!  There I go again…).  Norman, now an old man, describes finding people he has loved and lost in the waters of a familiar river.  But I think he’s also revealing a new Jerusalem, a new heaven and earth, with Jesus at its very center.

(You can watch the video at the beginning of this post.)

“Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.”

Thanks be to the God who never forgets the thirsty, to the Spirit who dances over waters still, and to the Son who invites us to come to the waters, until the end of time itself, amen.


Dangerous Waters

Fire ants walking on water.  Creepy, but also really amazing.
October 18, 2015

Matthew 14:22-33 
22 Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 23 And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24 but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. 25 And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. 26 But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. 27 But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
28 Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” 29 He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” 31 Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” 32 When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. 33 And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

Sermon: “Dangerous Waters”

Jesus was having a rough time of it.  He had taught droves of people parables about the kingdom of heaven and felt like they were just nodding along, but not understanding his words any more than my dog understands math (okay, she does understand how excited to get over two treats).  Jesus didn’t know if he was making an impact.  Then, Herod had John the Baptist, the man who baptized Jesus, beheaded.  All to woo a woman (I do think chocolate would have been a better choice).  Then, Jesus, his grief still fresh, tried to get away from it all.  But droves of people – well over 5,000 – followed him on foot, and putting their needs before his own, he fed every last one of them.

Completely exhausted, Jesus needed a break.  If we think God never grows weary, we underestimate the deep care God has for us.  Life for Jesus had been one storm after another, and this time, he had to get away from it all. 

He made his disciples get into a boat and sent them away from him, while he went on a mountain to pray.  I think even Jesus knew if he didn’t take time for Sabbath, for rest and prayer, he would never be able to serve.  He needed a shelter from life’s storms, and he took it for several hours.

In the meantime, the disciples in that boat faced a literal storm.  The boat got further and further away from shore and they panicked.  I don’t think they thought they would survive the night.  I do think Jesus always knew they would.  So, after taking the time he needed to pray, he went to them, walking on the water.  The fact that their first reaction was thinking he was a ghost shows just how rattled they were by that storm. 

We all know that sort of soul-chilling fear, don’t we?  Because we all know what it is to feel trapped in a storm.

We might call the storm cancer or depression, anxiety, loneliness or dementia.  We might call it anger or exhaustion or financial insecurity.  We might call it grief or strained relationships or boredom.  Whatever its name, we’re all in a storm of some form, all the time.

And where is Jesus?  Well, that’s an interesting question.  Sometimes, he might seem far away on a mountain top somewhere.  We might feel like it’s just up to us.  Fear might take over in that panicked moment. And we then have two options: we can keep faith and walk on the water, or we can give up and assume Jesus isn’t with us.

Sarah, Andrey and I studied this passage with our homeless friends at Mercy Community Church in Atlanta this week.  We went to take them blankets for the winter, but mostly we went to show them they matter to us, as an extension of our own church family.  Ivan, one of the homeless members there, said something powerful about this passage from Matthew.  He said, “Isn’t it interesting that, when Peter considered walking on water, he said, ‘If it is you, Jesus, command me to walk on the water towards you.’ If.  He didn’t know if Jesus really was who he said he was or not, but he walked on water towards him anyway.  And then, when the wind picked up and he looked away from Jesus and began to sink in doubt, he cried out for help.   And Jesus immediately reached out his hand and helped him.  Which means that Jesus was within arm’s reach the whole time!  He was so close, and still Peter doubted.”

So you see, even if we hold our faith very closely, if we attend church regularly, if we pray often, if we feel ourselves to be “close” to Jesus, we’re still going to have those doubts, and sometimes we’ll sink into them, especially in the middle of a storm.  But when we do, and cry for help, Jesus is right there, never out of reach (where he always is). 

So that is keeping our faith, even when we doubt, the first part of how I believe we survive the storms of this life. 

The second part is walking on water.  Now, I’m not recommending that we all head to the lake in Ms. Sue’s park and give it a go!  I’m saying we have to help keep everyone’s head above the surface of those stormy, dangerous waters.

The recent flooding in South Carolina gives us an interesting picture of what this looks like.  With such massive floods, so many creatures have struggled to survive, fighting with those waters, battling against them.  But not fire ants.  Fire ants (which I honestly never thought I’d use for a sermon illustration!) have been walking on water.

When waters rise, a colony gathers together, linking their little tarsi, like hands, and forming one massive raft.  The ants secrete an oily residue that helps them float on the surface of the water, and they keep in constant motion.  They survive by teamwork – the ants move over and around one another, so that no ant has to be in the water working there for too long.  They can do this for several days, until they get to high ground.

The ants walk on dangerous waters, and because everyone helps everyone else, they survive. 

What a challenge for us to consider: how do we support each other in dangerous waters in our church, in our community, in our nation, in our world? 

I don’t think we often show this ingenious, compassionate cooperation innate to nature.  I’ll tell you why.  I once had to do lifeguard training to work at a summer camp and, despite being a beacon of physical fitness, I failed miserably.  I finally told the director you really don’t want a lifeguard who just barely passed her tests.  But here’s what I did learn from that training: the most dangerous thing in the water is not a strong current or rocks or even snakes.  The most dangerous thing in the water is a distressed swimmer.  Because when you try to rescue one, often the panic of the moment makes them jump up on you and push you into the water instead.  Instead of cooperating for survival, they compete with you.  And the results can be deadly.

I wonder how we survive storms…those dangerous waters of life we find ourselves in?  Do we allow our panic to overwhelm, like Peter, and focus on our own survival at any cost?  Or do we decide to rise above those dangerous waters, and walk upon them together, in partnership, in community, like those fire ants?
We are called to have faith, even when it seems like we are beyond Jesus’ reach (because our friend Ivan reminds us we never are).  And we are called to walk on water together, making sure no one is abandoned at the bottom doing all the work, but that we are constantly moving to bring fairness and equity and hope to everyone.  That’s the only way we will all survive, if we serve the whole rather than our individual needs.

And in a world of climate change and flooding, of greater gaps between those who have too much and those who don’t have enough, of religious extremism that makes it tempting to respond in the same way, of pretending we’re okay to save face when we’re really not, we need to remember, we’re all in this storm of life together.  And together is the only way we’ll make it through, with God’s help.  Amen.


Monday, October 12, 2015

Baptismal Waters

The Jordan River.
October 11, 2015
Matthew 3:1-17 
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’”  4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
11 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”
13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Sermon: “Baptismal Waters”

It was February 9, 1964.  Magician Fred Kaps was something of a success already: he was a three-time grand prix winner from an international society of magicians.  He was charming, funny, and already had quite a following.  But now he had arrived!  You see, on February 9, 1964, Fred was to perform his magic on the Ed Sullivan show.

As you probably know, making it to that show guaranteed success as an entertainer.  But perhaps not on that particular night.

You see as Fred was backstage going over his act and preparing himself, the act before him took the stage: four blokes from England with matching haircuts and suits and a bizarre insect name: The Beatles.
Would anyone remember Fred Kaps after that?  Not likely.  The Beatles were a tough act to follow.

I know something about what that’s like.

You see, you’ve never heard of me.  My name has never appeared in your holy scriptures.  But I bet you remember the name of the fella who baptized me (ironically one of those “Beatles” names): John.  And I bet you remember the name of the fella who was baptized right before I was: Jesus.

It was a tough act to follow.  There were hundreds of us at the Jordan River that day.  We were all Jews – from all over – Jerusalem, Judea and all the villages that bordered the river.  Every day people came for their ritual cleansing, partly, I’d imagine because it was hot as the dickens and water was a welcome refreshment.  And partly because of that strange, compelling character John, with his wild animal fur and honey stuck in his beard.  He proclaimed a thrilling take on God – a God who was coming soon, and who would baptize us with fire and not just water, a God who would set the world right, calling out the wickedness of the powerful and bringing repentance to the entire land.

Every day, people came to the Jordan.  I could have gone the day before, and maybe have had more attention from John during my baptism.  But I didn’t.  I went to that old river the same day Jesus did and, as fate or the universe or God would have it, I wound up right behind him in the line to those waters.

Ritual cleansings happened all the time for us Jews, and so none of us expected anything out of the ordinary that day.  As Jesus (a surprisingly small fellow, you know) waded into those warm waters, John began going through the motions like a pro: placing a hand across his back, another around his waist, and tipping him backwards down into the waters.  You can tell he had done this hundreds, if not thousands, of times before.

But this was not like those other times.  Right before John was about to dunk Jesus into those waters, he stopped.  “Wait!” he said, squinting at him.  “What’s your name? You can’t be the One I’ve told so many about, can you?”  Jesus seemed almost shy as he told his name and answered that he was, in fact, this prophesied Lord.  John nearly dropped him with shock.  “But…but you should baptize me!  I’m not worthy to even untie your shoes, never mind baptize you!”   When John started getting out of the water, Jesus stopped him.
“Wait, John.” he said.  “You know it was always meant to be you baptizing me.  And you know that worthiness has nothing to do with it.  You are here, I am here, and holiness doesn’t wait.  We need to do this to fulfill all righteousness.”

So, John, shaking like a leaf the whole time, bless him, dunked Jesus into those waters.  As he brought Jesus back up, the craziest thing happened.  The heavens opened, a strange bird-shape came down upon Jesus and a voice spoke saying, “This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” 

John was so shocked that this time he actually dropped Jesus back into the water! There was some sputtering and, as Jesus came back up, he was laughing.  Laughing like a child who knows complete safety in the presence of a loving parent.  Laughing like a God who is not angry or bitter, but overflowing with delight at each and every drop of creation.

And then, just as quickly as it had all happened, it was over.  Jesus went on his way, no longer laughing, but somehow determined.  Legend has it, he went straight to the wilderness and was tempted in the worst ways, to make sure he was really ready for all that lay ahead of him.

And then, like that forgotten magician following The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show, it was my turn.  John looked totally dumbstruck, but he still had a job to do.  The line snaked for a long distance behind me, and most had come many miles to be baptized by him.  So he beckoned me into the waters with a still-shaking hand, and as he placed one hand on my back, and an arm around my waist, I felt his quaking.  After all, encountering all that holiness is terrifying.  There’s a reason God mostly comes to us in ordinary ways.

But, as that terrified prophet tipped me back into those waters, I felt so much wash away.  Because of who had come to the waters just before me, I felt my doubt leave me.  I felt my lostness wash away.  I felt my deep, soul-weary loneliness depart.  And I might not have heard a voice booming from the heavens like Jesus did, but deep within my sopping-wet body, I knew, with every single drop of that used water:  I am God’s beloved child.  God is pleased with me.

No less pleased than God was pleased with the main act who came before me. 

We all need to hear that, you know.  I suspect even Jesus needed to hear those words that would make him laugh in the face of death.  And the beautiful thing is, John wasn’t really worthy to be a part of such a holy sacrament.  None of us are.  But God comes – the Spirit like fire that warms our cold souls – comes, through quaking, quirky mystics who get the words wrong and send water up someone’s nose.  Baptism isn’t about being worthy.  It’s about being claimed by God and one another, just as we are.

That’s why sometimes babies are baptized, reminding us that those waters and God’s saving are never our doing, but God’s gracious gift to us.

That’s why sometimes we are baptized a bit older instead, reminding us that we can always choose to respond to God’s grace with acts of faith.

I only saw Jesus one time after that day at the Jordan.  It was a very different day.  He was not being raised to new life out of waters.  Quite the opposite.  And from that desperate place on that lonely hill, I heard him cry with a voice that tore the heavens open a second time: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

There was no laughter that day.  But it seemed to me that, as soon as Jesus spoke aloud those bitter words, he was more at peace.  It seemed to me that he heard, somewhere deep within himself in that place of overwhelming despair, a place we all know, “You are my child, my beloved.  I am well pleased with you.”

You see, if we really believe what God tells us at baptism, that we are completely and wholly claimed as God’s own child, a delight to our Creator, there’s nothing we can’t do.  Even die for each other. 
And of course, the powerful part of Jesus’ story, is that death wasn’t a tough act for him to follow after all.  What came next was even more amazing: joyful, laughing, delightful life.  The sort of life that brings life to the entire world.  Sometimes, I reckon you just have to go down into the waters before you can come up again.

But it makes that first healing breath all the more wonderful.  Because whether you’re dunked like I was or sprinkled, you’re claimed by God’s Spirit who breathes through you, resonating through your entire broken being that you are chosen by God and you are loved. 


I guess what I’m sort of saying is, with a God like that,  “All You Need is Love.”  Hmm, someone should write a song about that…  Amen.