tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65529437724826170292024-03-13T19:53:10.765-07:00Cameron Presbyterian ChurchWhitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.comBlogger219125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-66860685761780538072017-07-30T11:50:00.000-07:002017-07-30T12:02:29.229-07:00Seasons of Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="s1"><b>July 30, 2017</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Ecclesiastes 3:1-8</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>2 </b>a time to be born, and a time to die;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>3 </b>a time to kill, and a time to heal;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a time to break down, and a time to build up;</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>4 </b>a time to weep, and a time to laugh;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a time to mourn, and a time to dance;</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>5 </b>a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>6 </b>a time to seek, and a time to lose;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a time to keep, and a time to throw away;</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>7 </b>a time to tear, and a time to sew;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>8 </b>a time to love, and a time to hate;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a time for war, and a time for peace.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Sermon: "Seasons of Love"</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">There are many commentaries on this Ecclesiastes passage. But I have a favorite: it’s a song from the musical RENT, called “Seasons of Love.” Now, I’m no Susan Rush, so you really don’t want to hear my attempt at Broadway. I will leave it to the professionals, and just let you enjoy their commentary on Ecclesiastes yourselves, from the opening scene of the movie version of RENT:</span></div>
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<span class="s1">How do you measure a year in the life? Or how do you measure 5 years and 7 months of life together in ministry at Cameron Presbyterian Church? I’d like to do that now.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Here’s how I measure it:</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Earl jokes.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in “mighty, mighty elder” chants led by Cathy.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Italy stories told by Clinton in waiting rooms while Kay faced a procedure with her usual nonchalant bravery.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in neighborly chats about world travels, during rainstorms on Linda and Dave’s front porch.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in walks in the park with Juanita, and in her wise, prophetic words.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in sing-alongs with Jane on the way back from presbytery meetings</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Millie and Martha’s powerful Sunday School lessons.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in movies and Valenti’s pizza with Taylor, Traci, Karen and Alex, and I measure it in Bronson and Brandon’s e.p.i.c. Christmas sweaters.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in deep conversations (and conversations about Bread Cat) with Sarah.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in daily visits with Joe McKay and Beau when I first arrived.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Natalie’s plays, and in Ashley’s smile.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Phyllis’ amazing laugh.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in serving Alan communion for the first time, and in Marilyn’s Jazzy pictures.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in dancing with Claire at the cantata.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Mack’s stories, that were just getting started when he paused for breath.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Corinne’s knitting, and in Carlisle’s incredible love for her.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Mexican food lunches with Billie, and in Bob’s children’s sermon interruptions.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in a little turquoise Fiesta ware mug Laura gave me, and in Mike’s big bear hugs.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in scones and coffee with Jim and Sandy.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Easton’s baptism, and in Leon’s incredible memory.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Marcene’s enthusiasm, and in the deeply spiritual look on Bill’s face when he sings.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Andrey’s Indy 500 style driving on mission trips.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Shan cleaning the wound of a man affected by homelessness, without blinking an eye.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Ed’s inner Baptist preacher, and in Dine Times with Lynda.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in relaxation yoga with Jane, Linda, Cheryl, Sandy and Sarah Hilmer on Mondays.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in lunch at Lady Bedford’s with Louise.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in the gift of a massive coffee mug from Tony and Ginger.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in stories about war with Jim Kelly, and in Kay Kelly’s incredible dog whisperer skills.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in thoughtful cards from Phil and Patsy, and their steadfast support.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Art’s deep faith, and in Doris’ resilience.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Bruce and Joe’s patient willingness to do anything, even hang a wild Pentecost mobile from the center speaker.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Larry’s songs, and in Christie’s graceful ability to really listen.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Peggy’s hugs, and the way she says, “Thank you, Jesus” each time she takes communion.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Marty’s sermon comments that always manage to pick out the *most* Presbyterian thing I said, and in Cheryl saving my bacon (pun intended) in chimes more times that I can count.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Terry Kerr’s incredible energy, and in Judy’s passion for justice and equity.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Karol Boyd’s clever grin, and in Dale’s smiling eyes.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in PW Bible studies in Carol Thomas’ and Laura Younts’ living rooms.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Walt’s fearless chiming, and in Pat’s loving listening.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in deep biblical discussions about Revelation with Julie, and I measure it in Andy’s impressive array of Hawaiian shirts.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Temple theater shows with Pete and Marilyn, and in Patrick’s basketball games with Dwayne and Debbie.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Sharon Shaw’s infinitely patient emails, and in Sharon Bettini’s prayerful heart.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Tom’s “Whatcha say, Whitney?” greetings, and in Dawn’s “Need anything, Rev.?” knocks on my door.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Tommy’s passing-of-the-peace hugs, accompanied by, “Hey, buddy!”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Barbara’s music, and in cups of coffee with Butch.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Rick’s ever-amusing ties.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Kathy Oldham’s ever-deepening search for God.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Audrey’s smile, and in Joe Nelson’s flirtations.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Mark’s head nods as we chat.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in cups of tea at Rose’s, Summer’s solos, and in Colton and Matthew giggling at each other through the whole service.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Doris Jean’s “Hey” every time I see her, and in Hayes’ sneaky, witty humor.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Dick’s White Castle burgers, and in Norma’s hospitality.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Gene’s Garrison Keillor-esque liturgist voice, and in Lois’ mission focus for our community.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in s’mores and cornhole, while listening to Backporch Music, with Terry and Tonya.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in delicious Costco meals with Marco and Polo (otherwise known as Rex and Dot).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in prayers with Doris.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Jim Cameron’s love for Westerns, and in discussions about old movies with Kay McKay.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in discussions about my dangerous driving with mean Dean from Aberdeen, and in Debbie’s laugh.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Susan Rush’s mismatched earrings and perfectly matched talent.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in Star Wars theme songs being snuck into the offertory by Mary, and in her general magical humor and musical gifts.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in saying goodbye (for now) to beloved family on sunny afternoons in the Cameron Church Cemetery; and I measure it in saying hello to newly married Brenda and Nick, who grinned like teenagers when I pronounced them hitched last Saturday.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure it in bread broken and shared (and yes, that includes hushpuppies from the street fair).</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I measure this season of our life together in all these ways and more. I measure it in the love I have for y’all, a love that will not go away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Today, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for all the ways you have blessed me, and for the privilege of inviting me to be your pastor. And mostly, I want to say ‘thank you’ to God, for calling me to a tiny place I’d never heard of, that has become the biggest place there is.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Thanks be to God for this season of ministry together, for the good we’ve done, for the life we’ve lived, and for the love that binds us together for all time. Amen.</span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-62672776746647219502017-07-23T10:52:00.000-07:002017-07-23T10:55:38.974-07:00Holy Heights<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7d6PcRbl14XZmjPixpNvMIpC0Y2wt8f1t6yRA3pNUeNP_An8StWQXAMbhzM4GqAiGCOWtaXqh3lBwuzLVbIbrJhJz3ue9izZsBas917CFEleirxaGwQWndRUn-bJDeJl-ySNEPHOZjI/s1600/48e9d017fcbe3bd8d6a4aba8f877f483.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7d6PcRbl14XZmjPixpNvMIpC0Y2wt8f1t6yRA3pNUeNP_An8StWQXAMbhzM4GqAiGCOWtaXqh3lBwuzLVbIbrJhJz3ue9izZsBas917CFEleirxaGwQWndRUn-bJDeJl-ySNEPHOZjI/s1600/48e9d017fcbe3bd8d6a4aba8f877f483.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacob's Ladder Textile Art by Eszter Bornemisza</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /><br />July 31, 2017<br />Genesis 28:10-20</b><br />
10Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. 11He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. 12And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. 13 And the LORD stood beside him and said, “I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; 14and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. 15Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” 16Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the LORD is in this place — and I did not know it!” 17And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”<br />
18So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. 19aHe called that place Bethel…Then Jacob made a vow, saying, “If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and clothing to wear, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace, then the Lord shall be my God, and this stone, which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God’s house; and of all that you give me I will surely give one-tenth to you.”<br />
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<b>Sermon: “Holy Heights”</b><br />
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Jacob was a mess. It’s amazing how we often make out most (male) biblical characters to be perfect heroes and not flawed humans like us. Jacob may be the many-times-over-great-grandfather of Jesus, but he was trouble. It actually takes less time to name what he didn’t do wrong than what he did.<br />
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He cheated his brother Esau out of a birthright.<br />
He took advantage of his father’s blindness to trick him.<br />
Not caring about impressing the in-laws, he took everything from his father-in-law Laban: his daughters (yes, both of them), his livestock (hopefully of less worth than the daughters), even his household gods.<br />
He cheated his brother out of a blessing a second time, and ran off toward Haran to let Esau cool down a bit (and save his own skin). Much later, still obsessed with blessing, he sowed jealousy between his sons and grandsons by blessing some more than others.<br />
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If Jacob was a character in a story outside the Bible, he’s surely play the villain, not the hero. He’d be the vengeful Voldemort, the impulsive Anakin Skywalker, that jealous Wicked Witch of the West. In short, he’s not the good guy.</div>
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So, it comes as no surprise that, when we find him in Genesis 28, though he’s a fugitive from the well-placed anger of his brother, Jacob is able to sleep like a baby in the wilderness on a stone pillow, with an even stonier heart. Regret is a result of conscious, and as far as we can tell, ol’ Jake didn’t have one. He slept as the blissfully ignorant do, and God came to him in an incredible dream.</div>
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It would be fitting if this was a Scrooge-style transformative dream, where he awakes to finally be a good guy. Spoiler alert: it’s not, and he doesn’t. God brings him a dream of a ladder, or a staircase ascending into heaven, with angels going up and down between heaven and earth. Jacob isn’t invited to those holy heights. He’s simply invited to get a brief glimpse of them. God promises that this troublemaker, this villain, will have land, offspring and blessing beyond what even his selfish mind can dream up. </div>
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Imagine for a moment if Voldemort had bested Harry, or if Anakin had defeated the Force forever, or if the Wicked Witch and her flying monkeys had won. It fights against every concept we know of justice. So it is with this crook Jacob getting such a blessing. He’s not even gracious about receiving it. I love how Barry Robinson describes his reaction to God’s promise:</div>
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<i>Jacob responds to God's completely unconditional promise of blessing and protection with a completely conditional promise of his own. "IF you will give me the land, food, clothing and protection, THEN I will be your man." In response to this incredible blessing of God, all Jacob can think of saying is, "SHOW ME THE MONEY!" I mean, can you believe this guy! God, out of the unbelievable goodness of God’s heart, gives Jacob holy heaven instead of holy hell, and Jacob, demonstrating that he hasn't learned a blessed thing, says in response, "Prove it to me!” </i><br />
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Jacob does not deserve God’s blessing. He does not deserve to look upon the holy heights of God’s glory. He does not deserve to share space with angels, or to have God come and literally stand beside him. But that’s because God’s goodness is never dependent upon our own — which can be summed up in one big little word: grace. In Jacob, God annoyingly shows us that grace has little to do with what’s deserved, and everything to do with the character of God. God forgives, God blesses, God brings us to holy heights and stands beside us, not because it’s earned, but because that’s who God is. And no matter how menacing, how enticing, or how amusing, the villain is never the main character of our lives, or of our Bible for that matter. God is.<br />
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We all like to be the main character of our own stories, though, don’t we? It’s no different in the story of the church. We see this in language of entitlement, of assuming God’s blessing runs along the lines of wealth, or privilege, or status, or even political opinion. We see this in how grudges, bitterness, and prejudice are cherished like inherited traditions (perhaps first passed down by that trickster Jacob). We see this in forgiving only when we think it’s deserved, or churches acting like it’s us against the world, and assuming a posture of pride and defensiveness, withdrawing more and more from those who need us most. We want to be the main character. And slowly, so slowly we don’t even notice it most of the time, we begin to look more and more like our ancestor Jacob. And we forget that God is the biggest part of any of our stories.<br />
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But if grace is anything, it is God refusing to leave us where we are, even if we we’re sleeping rough on a stone pillow in the wilderness. God comes beside us, us imperfect, struggling, tired people, and smiles and says, “Look up…I’ve got something beautiful to show you.” And what we see is that the barrier between heaven and earth never was the barred door we thought, only opening at the right time, but has in fact been a staircase of angelic movement all along. It’s just hard to see it when we’re awake to all our pain and frustration and fear, thinking we’re the only ones, because we’ve tried too long to be Number One. <br />
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But, whether we see it or not, that beauty is always there. Like the stars that shine through the day as well, God’s holy heights are there, calling us to be humbled by our place in the order of things, and our utter dependence upon God’s grace, not just for the life to come, but for every moment of this life. We’re invited to joyfully, fearlessly celebrate that we aren’t the center of our stories — God is.</div>
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Whether we want to claim him or not, Jacob is part of our faith family. He’s like an unruly uncle we’d rather ignore, but we can’t. He reminds us that God's grace does not discriminate. What would our church be like if we went into our community and the world proclaiming that we don’t have it all together all the time, but instead are a place of imperfect people desperate for grace, humble enough to put ourselves second, or third, or fourth, or as Jesus would have us do, last?<br />
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Anne Lamott describes well how unexpected this grace can be, telling a story of when she went to church after a particularly trying morning with her crumbling family. <br />
<i><br />Then I headed to church.<br /><br /> And it was not good.<br /><br /> The service was way long, and boring, and only three people had shown up for the choir. There was a disruptive baby who had about three hours of neck control but was already spoiling everything for the rest of us. I sat with a look of grim munificence, like so many of your better Christians, exuding mental toxins into the atmosphere. I decided that this church was deteriorating. <br /><br /> I had come for a spiritual booster shot and instead got aggravation. <br /><br /> I was going to leave, and never come back.<br /><br />Then something amazing happened. I would call it grace, but then, I'm easy. It was that deeper breath, or pause, or briefly cleaner glasses, that gives us a bit of freedom and relief. I remembered my secular father's only strong spiritual directive: Don't be a [jerk], and make sure everybody eats. Veronica quoted a fellow pastor recently: "I'm only a beggar, showing the other beggars where the bread is. There are many kinds of bread: kindness, companionship, besides the flour-and-yeast kind...I realized I was going to get through this disappointing service, and anyway, you have to be somewhere: better here, where I have heard truth spoken so often, than, say, at the DMV, or home alone, orbiting my own mind. And it's good to be out where others can see you, so you can't be your ghastly, spoiled self. It forces you to act slightly more elegantly, and this improves your thoughts, and thereby the world.</i><br />
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We’re all beggars, like that juvenile Jacob. But with God, there’s enough bread to share, enough to get us through. And, if ever we wonder where to find it, how to get to those holy heights once more, how to find out the truth that God has been beside us all along in stories that have always been bigger than us, we come home. We come here, however grumpy, or guilty, or imperfect we are. We come. And God says, “Okay, do I have your attention now? ‘Cause I’ve got something to show you…and it looks an awful lot like grace.” Amen.<br />
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-17860270286569447592017-07-18T12:51:00.001-07:002017-07-18T12:51:57.332-07:00It Was a Dark and Stormy Night...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<b><span style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">July 16, 2017</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Mark 4:35-41 <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">35 </span></b><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">On that day, when evening had come, Jesus said to his
disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.” <b>36 </b>And
leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was.
Other boats were with him. <b>37 </b>A great windstorm arose, and the
waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. <b>38 </b>But
he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to
him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” <b>39 </b>He
woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the
wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. <b>40 </b>He said to them,
“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” <b>41 </b>And they
were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that
even the wind and the sea obey him?”</span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">Sermon: “It Was a Dark and Stormy Night”</span></b><b><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">It was a secret I hoped never to tell. But it’s hard to keep secrets
when it’s a dark and stormy night, and you’re terrified. My name is Andrew, and
it means “manly” of all things. You perhaps know me as a disciple of Jesus the
Christ, but before that, I was a fisherman. But my deepest, darkest secret is
this: I have <i>always</i> been afraid of the sea. I know, I know, it sounds
ridiculous. Like a circus performer afraid of elephants; like a chef afraid of
tomatoes; like a musician afraid of pianos. It’s absurd. But I couldn’t help
it: even though fishing was the family business, and I was raised by my dad to
swim almost as soon as I could walk, I was afraid that, someday, the sea would
claim me. My older brother, Simon, didn’t seem to be trapped in such fears. He
threw himself fully into everything he did. But not me. I was cautious, timid,
and every single time I went into a boat, I was afraid. I never meant to tell
anyone my secret. But a dark and stormy night told it for me. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">Life changed dramatically for me when I met a wayfaring stranger named
Jesus. Leaving my nets to follow him was liberation for me in a way I suspect
only he and I knew. I thought my boating days were over. How little I understood
then. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">One day, after Jesus had been teaching parables and had talked himself
hoarse, he said to us disciples, “Let’s go across to the other side of the
sea.” We got into a boat, and my secret, all-too-familiar fear crept up, until
my stomach churned as much as those wild waters. The wind rose, the waves
crashed, and suddenly I realized my worst nightmare was about to happen. This
was it. This was the way I would die. All of my calm, collected fisherman’s
facade washed away with those waves, and I shouted in a panic to wake up our
slumbering savior, “TEACHER! Do you <i>not care </i>that we are perishing?” He
woke up, with an exhausted look, but did not respond to me. Instead, he turned
to the waves and the wind, as odd as that was. “PEACE.” he shouted. And the
wind stopped, and the waves died. I did not, much to my delight. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">Ever since that day, I’ve been haunted by the question I asked Jesus in
my panic. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Do you not care?”</i> It’s
perhaps the most human question there is to ask of God, or whoever we talk to
in the middle of the night. You’ve asked it, to. I can see that.You’ve asked
him if he cares when you hear that terrible word ‘cancer’ from a stone-faced
doctor who’s worked one too many shifts for empathy. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">You’ve asked her if she cares when your loved one doesn’t remember who
you are. You’ve asked him if he cares when change comes like waves brutally
bashing against the battle-worn boat of your life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">You’ve asked her if she cares when your soul feels as empty as a bottle,
forgotten and tossed about in a sea of stress and isolation. That question
haunts us all: does God care?</span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">But I’ve not just been haunted by that question; I’ve also been haunted
by the look on Jesus’ face that day, because that look revealed that I wasn’t
the only one keeping a deep, dark secret. Jesus’ deep secret was that he was
completely and totally exhausted. Burned out. Soul weary. Bone tired enough to
sleep through a sinking boat, more desperate for rest than even breath. You
know this feeling, too, don’t you?</span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">Often we like to think of God as an “Andrew” a manly, strong one. A God
who is unmoved, resilient, ever powerful. <b>But Jesus did not show us that
sort of God. </b>Jesus showed us a God who was exhausted. Exhausted by the
suffering of the marginalized and forgotten. Exhausted by the sickness of our
bodies, minds, political systems, and inward-looking faith communities.
Exhausted by the dark and stormy state of our souls, who pretend to be a calm,
placid sea on the outside, and are anything but. Exhausted by all of us who
walk around all day as if we’re fine, all the while burying our deep, dark
secret stories within us, afraid to let anyone see that we are actually <i>human</i>,
made in the image of a God who chose radical vulnerability.</span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">We might not expect such a sensitive, raw God. But that is the God we
have in Jesus. And so, when he speaks “peace,” it’s not just to the external
storms we can see. It’s also to the internal storms we can’t, speaking peace
even into his very own storm of exhaustion within. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">I know this, because that day Jesus calmed the storm within and without,
something changed for me. I stopped being afraid to tell my story, my deep,
dark secret. I let my fellow travelers know that I didn’t love boats, <i>okay
that in fact I hated them</i>, and because I did that, they could actually be Christians
to me. They did not judge me, but understood. Each time we were on a boat after
that, they surrounded me, so that, should the waves beat against the boat, I
would feel more protected. If church is anything, it is that: the place where
we’re brave enough to tell our stories to each other, and treat these as holy
things to be celebrated and protected. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">So, I’m going to give you a moment to do just that: to tell your deep
fear to a person near you. If you’re not ready for that sort of vulnerability,
I invite you to just sit in silence and offer that fear to God. We can’t help
each other if we’re not honest with each other. We can’t experience the peace
Christ has for us if we pretend we’re fine all the time. So, share your story,
your fear, with each other for a few minutes.</span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">(story sharing time)</span></i><i><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">Allow me, Andrew, to leave you with a final thought. After that day with
Jesus on that sinking boat, I actually do believe it’s possible to be a
fisherman <i>and</i> be afraid of water. I believe it’s possible to be a circus
performer <i>and </i>be afraid of elephants. I believe it’s possible to be a
musician <i>and</i> be afraid of pianos. I even believe it’s possible to be a
chef <i>and</i> be afraid of tomatoes. But here’s what I don’t believe: I don’t
believe it’s possible to be a Christian and be afraid of telling your story. Be
brave enough to show you’re not as brave as people might think.</span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">For, we have a Savior who speaks peace with a hoarse, exhausted voice,
calming his own storms and ours. We have a God who chose to identify not with
the put-together and the powerful, but with the most vulnerable, judged, and
underestimated. And we have a Spirit who never stops hovering over and within
whatever chaotic waters we find ourselves in, weaving our stories into one
beautiful, messy, gospel of life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="Default">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 16.0pt;">Thanks be to God! Amen.</span><span style="background: white; font-family: Cochin; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cochin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cochin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-44264143421480943582017-07-09T14:14:00.003-07:002017-07-09T14:14:40.342-07:00Too Close to Home<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMfhfwKaKaagZfW9aQllVGFCyAUIi2BCB8MsHtVz27JpuC4kLBQ8CBJf6OEz6BxIMbG4BdxvsFMt1WqT9bBW548-2vmcSvVHwcTiJAn1ME0oT3wsXIKydOS6rbnsn_VoucXM0CjIv2OY/s1600/fullsizeoutput_60a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="875" data-original-width="1600" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMfhfwKaKaagZfW9aQllVGFCyAUIi2BCB8MsHtVz27JpuC4kLBQ8CBJf6OEz6BxIMbG4BdxvsFMt1WqT9bBW548-2vmcSvVHwcTiJAn1ME0oT3wsXIKydOS6rbnsn_VoucXM0CjIv2OY/s640/fullsizeoutput_60a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those gathered for the General Council of the World Communion of Reformed Churches in Leipzig, Germany.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>July 9, 2017</b></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>Luke 4:16-30</b></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>16 </b>When Jesus came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, <b>17 </b>and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">18 </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,<br />
because he has anointed me<br />
to bring good news to the poor.<br />
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives<br />
and recovery of sight to the blind,<br />
to let the oppressed go free,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">19 </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>20 </b>And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. <b>21 </b>Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” <b>22 </b>All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” <b>23 </b>He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” <b>24 </b>And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown. <b>25 </b>But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; <b>26 </b>yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. <b>27 </b>There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.” <b>28 </b>When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. <b>29 </b>They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. <b>30 </b>But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"><b>Sermon:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1">I’ll never forget my first seminary sermon. It was fairly well reasoned and worded. It also happened to be a snooze fest, because I preached the entire thing without-any-inflection-in-my-voice-like-a-factory-new-Presbybot. It turns out my first seminary sermon was also a lesson in humility!</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1">I take comfort in the fact that Jesus’ first official sermon wasn’t received very well, either. In fact, no one tried to run me off a cliff after mine (but perhaps that is a lesson in taking more risks).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1">You can picture that day he preached. Palestinian Christian Lutheran pastor Mitri Raheb set the tone well in our Bible study on this text ,at the World Communion of Reformed Churches General Council the last 10 days in Leipzig, Germany. Like Jesus, he also did not mince his words, saying the setting for Jesus’ entire earthly life was one of occupation. In Palestine, to be exact. Jesus’ people were occupied by Rome, and so his ministry was never just about <i>personal </i>salvation; it was <i>communal salvation,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> saving oppressed people from the tyranny of political and religious occupation. Raheb, one who has experienced occupation as a daily reality for his Christian flock, names the saving those under it need saying, “Occupied people are not poor, they are made poor as resources are exploited by the empire. So Jesus doesn’t offer aid or food, but good news.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1">This gospel against empire is a tricky business. It’s a get-yourself-run-off-a-cliff-sort-of-business, because religion and empire have always been complicated bedfellows. But the carpenter’s kid doesn’t back down. Naming something of a mission statement, he reads from Isaiah his 5-point plan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">1. good news to the poor</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">2. release for the captives</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">3. recovery of sight to the blind</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">4. freedom for the oppressed</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">5. a year of jubilee</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Jesus was preaching what we preachers (and all people of faith) should always proclaim: good news. But sometimes it’s not recognized as such, especially when it means things have to change. Change rarely feels good, or cozy, or welcome.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Jesus’ message hit way too close to home, because he dared critique his own people and faith, naming that while some good was done in the past, God wasn’t nearly finished.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">And God wouldn’t be finished until there was no such thing as poverty, captivity, blindness, incarceration, or despair. (Which means of course, God’s still not finished.) This good news would require turning the world upside down, and those religious folk simply didn’t have the energy for that. They’d rather let their hometown boy die than have to change. What do we sacrifice in order to hold onto some semblance of staying the same, I wonder?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">But each time we try to run that message off, to stick to we’ve-always-done-it-this-way, Jesus, that wily Savior, slips on through our shortsighted fingers. He lives on, bringing good news everywhere he goes. Sometimes that’s in the walls of the church, and sometimes it’s not.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I’ll tell you this, though: I saw him spreading that gospel joy all over the place in Germany. Gathered with Reformed Christians from Indonesia to Northern Ireland to Lebanon to Madagascar, I saw that wily Jesus still sharing his gospel with all who would listen.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I heard his voice, echoes of this first sermon of his, through people like pastor and professor Nadia Marais from Stellenbosch University in South Africa. She named the relationship between the church and a changing culture, saying, <i>“If we are unconcerned with those unwanted in our churches we cheapen God’s grace and the life-giving salvation of God. Grace is not up to us: it is given to all of us by God. Grace is unapologetically present. </i><b><i>The church does not belong to us.</i></b><i> The gospel reminds us that for this very reason, we do not get to choose who we don’t want in the church with us.”</i></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The people who listened to Jesus preach that day in Palestine, who perhaps went for the novelty of hearing Mary and Joe’s son speak as much as anything, wanted to decide on behalf of God who was in and who was out. Using liturgical language, they labeled many “unclean,” excluding them in the so-called name of God’s law. But Jesus was never phased by such descriptors and categories: grace and compassion abounded in his every breath, even as they tried to kill him for it.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">By the time he got to point 5 of his mission statement, those hometown folks weren’t even listening anymore. So, they couldn’t hear that last crescendo of a promise: a year of jubilee!</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">In Jewish tradition, a year of jubilee was part of God’s order. It was an ordinance woven through with grace, where slaves were freed, property was returned, and even the land itself was given a rest. It was a time of sabbath, of reformation, of renewal.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I experienced something of this joyful jubilee in many moments at the WCRC, including an impromptu conga line at closing worship as we danced, singing, “Siyahamba…We are marching in the light of God!” with one voice in many languages.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Perhaps the most well known presenter at the WCRC (other than Joanna Hipp who did an amazing job preaching at the close of the women’s conference!) was German theologian Jürgen Moltmann. At 90 years old, he brought the word of God with great power and authenticity. He called for this good news of jubilee, even as he grieved the loss of his wife, saying, <i>“Let us measure the positive dimension of the great joy in the broad spaces of God, who is closer to us than we think, and widens our lives more than we suspect.”</i></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sometimes jubilee can only come through change, like through an unassuming carpenter’s son becoming a prophet. Or through the WCRC General Council for the first time issuing a binding statement on the validity and importance of women’s ordination. Or through dismantling the systems of empire and occupation that keep poor people poor. As Moltmann reminded us, the opposite of poverty is not wealth. The opposite of poverty is community.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">A beloved community where change is possible, where reformation still happens, and where sometimes that wily Jesus shows up. He hits close to home to remind us that this whole ‘church’ thing was never just about wherever we call home, but instead about the God who made a home with us all. And where God makes a home, no matter what change comes, no matter what newness is required of us, there is jubilee, great joy to be found in the broad spaces of God.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">That is the best news there is, not just for us, but for all. Amen.</span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-60983017864499657332017-06-26T04:59:00.001-07:002017-06-26T05:01:59.752-07:00Children Playing at Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">June 25, 2017</span></b></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Genesis 21:8-21</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">8 The child [Isaac] grew, and was weaned; and Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned. 9 But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. 10 So she said to Abraham, “Cast out this slave woman with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.” 11 The matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son. 12 But God said to Abraham, “Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman; whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for it is through Isaac that offspring shall be named for you. 13 As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring.” 14 So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">15 When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. 16 Then she went and sat down opposite him a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot; for she said, “Do not let me look on the death of the child.” And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. 17 And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. 18 Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” 19 Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">20 God was with the boy, and he grew up; he lived in the wilderness, and became an expert with the bow. 21 He lived in the wilderness of Paran; and his mother got a wife for him from the land of Egypt.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Sermon:</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once upon a time, there were two little boys. One was lighter-skinned, one darker-skinned. They shared a father. These half brothers didn’t know they weren’t of the same standing, as one was born to a slave woman and the other to a wealthy woman. They played together as equals, because that’s what children do until they’re taught not to. Their mothers did not always (okay, ever) get along. One had all the power and privilege; the other was property. Her name was Hagar. Hagar didn’t even have a say when Abraham needed a womb to carry his child. She resented the woman who made that happen: Sarah, his wife. She resented cleaning her floors; she resented being looked through like she wasn’t a person; she resented her boy being kept away from the finer educational opportunities.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sarah, in turn, resented Hagar. She was jealous of her fertility, and bitter about her ability to have dignity no matter how undignified a task Sarah gave her to do. No, these women did not like each other at all. But their boys were a different matter.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One day, as the boys were playing and laughing together (that Isaac nearly always laughed), both mothers looked on. For a moment their eyes met across the plain, and silently (in the way women do), they came to a decision together. They hated each other, yes. But their boys would not.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They let the boys keep playing together. Specifically, Sarah let those boys play together, and play they did. Ishmael, though seen as less-than because of his skin color and mother, was an older brother, through and through. He taught Isaac how to tend the sheep, and was always in charge of whatever fantasy game they invented. Isaac, though first by privilege and inheritance, adored his older brother, mimicking his every move. Ishmael was his hero.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The boys’ love for each other eventually thawed the frosty hearts of their mothers. You couldn’t notice it at first, but in tiny ways, Sarah started being easier on Hagar. She stopped mocking her openly, gave her more comfortable tasks, and finally, one night many years later, as Hagar placed Sarah’s plentiful dinner before her, and turned to go eat her own meager meal by the fire, Sarah put a hand on her arm. She asked, <i>not told,</i> her if she’d like to share her table.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hagar rightly expected it to be a trick, but it wasn’t. She saw genuine repentance and kindness in Sarah’s eyes, and so she did sit with her, that night, and nearly every night since, for dinner. And so it happened that two little boys, half-brothers, taught peace to generations after them, all because they were allowed to play together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1">…but that’s not what happened, is it? Those two little boys, one lighter-skinned, one darker-skinned, weren’t allowed to play together after all. When their mothers’ eyes met across the field that day, Sarah’s were filled with rage. She heard the echoes of a lifetime of unjust judgment and patriarchy ring in her ears: “Barren. Less than a woman. Less than a <i>slave</i>. Empty. Nothing.” Trapped in her own bitterness, she then exacted that same unjust sentence on a child who’d done nothing wrong, </span><span class="s2">“Cast out this <i>slave woman</i> with <i>her son</i>; for the son of this <i>slave woman </i>shall not inherit along with my son Isaac!” she shouted to her husband Abraham.</span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If the boys were allowed to play together, then they were equals. And so were their mothers. And Sarah wasn’t so sure that, when measured up to the dignity and fertility of Hagar, she would come out on top. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Hagar and the boy had to disappear.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hagar wasn’t asked, of course. She was ordered to go into the wilderness of Beer-sheba with her son Ishmael, a sentence somehow so-called justified by God. Abraham gave them a puny skin of water and a few crumbs, but she knew it was only to make himself feel less guilty. The water gave out soon, even though she never dared drink even a mouthful, so Ishmael could have it all. Though parched with thirst, her tears flowed freely as she laid the child she’d had no choice in having (or loving) under the shrub that gave the most shade. She wandered away, a broken person, less than a person, which is perhaps what Sarah wanted all along.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She tried to stop her ears to the cries of the boy, but she couldn’t. Each one broke her more than the last. But she wasn’t the only one listening. God was. God heard the desperate cries of that abandoned child, and spoke to Hagar, “Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They survived, and God was with the boy, and he grew strong, making the wilderness his home. He missed his little brother desperately, but the look on his mother’s face when he mentioned Isaac made him eventually stop saying his name.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And slowly, in the way that often happens, the bitterness and anger of parents got passed on to those boys, until playing together seemed childish, foolish, and even reckless. Isaac was told Ishmael was dangerous and cunning, a threat to his inheritance, and eventually he believed it. Ishmael was told Isaac wanted only to enslave and defeat him, and eventually he believed it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">They came together to bury their father at Hebron many years later, but there was no love between them. Brothers in blood, but strangers in spirit. It turns out they shared an inheritance, after all: one of brutality and bitterness. And thus the spiritual children of Isaac and Ishmael – Jews, Christians, and Muslims – have struggled with that inheritance ever since, fighting even over the very burial ground of that common father Abraham.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But just because Sarah made a very wrong choice the day those boys played together, does that mean we have to keep making that choice? Thanks be to God, the answer is no. We don’t. We don’t have to let our prejudices and fears poison our children’s chances at peace.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We can change the course of this sad story. Sometimes, the only way to interrupt the cycles of hatred and injustice, of oppression and conflict, is with creativity, with art. Art doesn’t take sides; it doesn’t demand a particular interpretation or indoctrinate those who experience it. It simply offers itself, freely and honestly. One such offering comes to us from Jewish poet Shin Shalom. It is named “Ishmael, Ishmael,” and speaks from the perspective of a conflicted Isaac.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Ishmael, my brother,</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>How long shall we fight each other?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My brother from times bygone,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My brother, Hagar's son,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My brother, the wandering one.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>One angel was sent to us both,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>One angel watched over our growth -</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>There in the wilderness, death threatening through thirst,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I a sacrifice on the altar, Sarah's first.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Ishmael, my brother, hear my plea:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>It was the angel who tied thee to me ...<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The caravan progresses, out of breath,</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Crossing the desert, a march to death.</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>But we have seen a mission divine,</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Eternal secrets are thine and mine.</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Why should we blind each other’s eyes?</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Let us be brothers; brother, arise!</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The heat of the desert has narrowed our mind,</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Our common grazing ground we cannot find.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Let us remember our father’s kind heart,</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Let brothers never again from each other part.</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Remember “the well of the Living God Who sees me,”</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Let bonds of friendship bring me to thee.</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Time is running out, put hatred to sleep.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Shoulder to shoulder, let's water our sheep.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If once upon a time, a mighty conflict that rages still was born through two little boys who weren’t allowed to play together, can you imagine all the good that can be done with even the tiniest of actions? It is time to put hatred to sleep, to create space for the brothers and sisters of this weary world play at peace.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because one day, there will be two little boys, one darker-skinned, one lighter-skinned, one Christian, one Muslim, playing together. And the world will begin to know peace.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is this story just a fairy tale? Is that day today?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That, my friends, is up to us. Amen.</span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-39187966851232775982017-06-18T14:55:00.000-07:002017-06-18T14:55:51.594-07:00Waiting to Laugh<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCtQWtU19_MnTdI-Qo6Iut_XgRr6O1R0EFypzIh7pdDHQbnbRMvAqp-r4KieZrT91k2ucMEVW6YfhHA7Sn-ANDZQSunegwbzmjw__62uu1C7OdVypetFNjCQZWq_GJyvNQP5GDL-LLH0/s1600/46e8c5be5167b46dfa761bbd057d5ca4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="597" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCtQWtU19_MnTdI-Qo6Iut_XgRr6O1R0EFypzIh7pdDHQbnbRMvAqp-r4KieZrT91k2ucMEVW6YfhHA7Sn-ANDZQSunegwbzmjw__62uu1C7OdVypetFNjCQZWq_GJyvNQP5GDL-LLH0/s640/46e8c5be5167b46dfa761bbd057d5ca4.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/46/e8/c5/46e8c5be5167b46dfa761bbd057d5ca4.jpg">Image Source</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><b>June 18, 2017</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2"><sup>1</sup></span><span class="s1">The LORD appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day.</span><span class="s2"><sup>2</sup></span><span class="s1">He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground.</span><span class="s2"><sup>3</sup></span><span class="s1">He said, "My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant.</span><span class="s2"><sup>4</sup></span><span class="s1">Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree.</span><span class="s2"><sup>5</sup></span><span class="s1">Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on-since you have come to your servant." So they said, "Do as you have said."</span><span class="s2"><sup>6</sup></span><span class="s1">And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, "Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes."</span><span class="s2"><sup>7</sup></span><span class="s1">Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it.</span><span class="s2"><sup>8</sup></span><span class="s1">Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s2"><sup>9</sup></span><span class="s1">They said to him, "Where is your wife Sarah?" And he said, "There, in the tent."</span><span class="s2"><sup>10</sup></span><span class="s1">Then one said, "I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son." And Sarah was listening at the tent entrance behind him.</span><span class="s2"><sup>11</sup></span><span class="s1">Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age; it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women.</span><span class="s2"><sup>12</sup></span><span class="s1">So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, "After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?"</span><span class="s2"><sup>13</sup></span><span class="s1">The LORD said to Abraham, "Why did Sarah laugh, and say, 'Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?'</span><span class="s2"><sup>14</sup></span><span class="s1">Is anything too wonderful for the LORD? At the set time I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son."</span><span class="s2"><sup>15</sup></span><span class="s1">But Sarah denied, saying, "I did not laugh"; for she was afraid. He said, "Oh yes, you did laugh."</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2"><sup>1</sup></span><span class="s1">The LORD dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the LORD did for Sarah as he had promised.</span><span class="s2"><sup>2</sup></span><span class="s1">Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him.</span><span class="s2"><sup>3</sup></span><span class="s1">Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him.</span><span class="s2"><sup>4</sup></span><span class="s1">And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him.</span><span class="s2"><sup>5</sup></span><span class="s1">Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him.</span><span class="s2"><sup>6</sup></span><span class="s1">Now Sarah said, "God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me."</span><span class="s2"><sup>7</sup></span><span class="s1">And she said, "Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>Sermon: "Waiting to Laugh"</b></span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait for something, I wonder? For me, it was 25 years. 25 years I waited for God to make good on a promise from another life, when I had another name. I was Abraham, not Abram. Sarah wasn’t Sarai anymore. But none of that “descendants like the sand on the seashore” promise had come true. We became what you might call expert waiters (which is just a fancy way of saying we were experts at disappointment).</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">After God changed our names with a ridiculous promise, we believed it for a while. Any little fleck of sun through the trees was a sign; any unexpected rain was a message from God; any internal nudge was God’s voice. Only it wasn’t. It was just the sun; just the rain; just indigestion. That promise became as old and weathered as our old bodies, and we stopped talking about it (which is a just a fancy way of saying we gave up).</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">I’d stared at those oak trees in front of our tent for decades. They were just trees: bark and leaves, roots and branches. But on that day, they became something different altogether. And so did ol’ Sarai and Abram. We became our new names.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">It was the heat of the day, and I was getting too old to be working in it. So, I perched myself outside the tent to try to get the best of the fickle breeze. I was admiring those old oak trees, and to tell you the truth, I was a bit jealous of their haphazard, thoughtless ability to give birth to new trees. Sarah and I told ourselves we didn’t need anything else in life (which is just a fancy way of saying we settled). But, jealous as I was, those trees were comforting, sheltering. They put my soul at rest. As I watched those fertile trees, suddenly in the wavy heat of the day, something else appeared in their shade.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">People. But not quite like any people I’d ever seen. I had thought my heart was only full of blood and obligation, and so it was quite a shock when I felt a real stirring (that wasn’t indigestion). I intuitively knew, the way you know when you meet the love of your life, that these strange foreigners were from God.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">I was surprised at how fast my old legs could take me — I ran to them, calling them holy names like “Lord” and begged not to pass by. Those old oaks became the holiest of sanctuaries and I asked them to stay, to rest, and to let me show them kindness. They agreed, and settled down to rest in that shade. I pulled out all the stops: freshly made bread, a fatted calf, curds and milk! Ah, you don’t sound that impressed. Trust me, on a hot day, you can’t beat curds and milk, y’all.</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Anyway, I fed them because that’s just what you do when a stranger comes your way on a particularly hot day. I waited, wondering what might happen, or if these silent strangers had any message from God for me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Finally, one of them, wiping away his milk mustache, smiled and simply asked, “Where’s your wife Sarah?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">With a shock I realized I hadn’t told them my wife’s name. The little flicker of faith in me burst to life, and I dared to hope that maybe God remembered a long-ago promise.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">It turns out, God never forgets God’s promises. That foreigner said the most shocking news as if he were simply reading the morning news: “I’ll be back to visit you again, in a year. By then, your wife Sarah will have had a son.” Sarah was of course listening from the tent and started laughing. And she never really stopped: we named the boy Isaac, after all, which means “he laughs” in our language.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">I’ve heard a saying from time to time (I have been around a while).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i>“If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but that seems awfully backwards to me! I say that if you want to find out God’s plans for you, follow your laughter. It will show you the way.</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">What, I wonder, is making you laugh these days? Not laugh <i>at<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> someone, or with a sarcastic, desperate tone. I mean really laugh, belly to toes, eyes streaming tears of delight. When was the last time you laughed like that? How was God speaking to you through it?</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">If you feel like laughter is a luxury you can’t afford, that life is too heavy or you’re too old or tired for such frivolity, I’ll tell you this: you need laughter now more than ever. I’ll also say this: Sarah and I never would found our laughter — and our Isaac — if I’d let those strangers pass us by. If I hadn’t made my tired legs and heart run to them, welcome them, show compassion to them, we would have gone on laugh-less the rest of our days. If I hadn’t recognized that those old resting oaks were actually holy ground meant to be shared, we never would have lived into our new names. We would have been Abraham and Sarah, proud and solid on the outside, all the while remaining Abram and Sarai, bitter and afraid on the inside.</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Do you want to laugh? Welcome the stranger in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Do you want to laugh? Don’t give up on God, or yourself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Do you want to laugh? Open yourself to the possibility that God is always doing a new thing, even (and in my case, especially) late in the game.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Find your laughter. Find your life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">I promise you, it’s worth the wait.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Amen.</span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-81548179513202343482017-06-04T11:35:00.003-07:002017-06-04T11:35:35.113-07:00You Shall Live<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIu9aJNGvA9zl3MLiIea_0o4KUZ5slwGDXjuN3fqqrnqcOzx4kT1AaIGi-C7EQrtB1DB4xhrEIb5UHOXx-OpyX79DU0ivhJ0uecvhMYVmllQw1KfRdftNBM8AbgtfooWdy79E0-L6AHlM/s1600/907b527b3d3e1233c19b4fdb8833496f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="427" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIu9aJNGvA9zl3MLiIea_0o4KUZ5slwGDXjuN3fqqrnqcOzx4kT1AaIGi-C7EQrtB1DB4xhrEIb5UHOXx-OpyX79DU0ivhJ0uecvhMYVmllQw1KfRdftNBM8AbgtfooWdy79E0-L6AHlM/s640/907b527b3d3e1233c19b4fdb8833496f.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">June 4, 2017 - Pentecost</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ezekiel 37:1-15 <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord
and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. 2 He led me all
around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. 3 He said to me,
“Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” 4 Then he said to
me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of
the Lord. 5 Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I
will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. 6 I will lay
sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin,
and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the
Lord.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">7 So I prophesied as I had been commanded;
and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came
together, bone to its bone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">8 I looked, and there were sinews on them,
and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no
breath in them. 9 Then God said to me, “Prophesy to the
breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come
from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may
live.” 10 I prophesied as God commanded me, and
the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast
multitude. 11 Then the Lord said to me, “Mortal, these
bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our
hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’ </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">12 Therefore
prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your
graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you
back to the land of Israel. 13 And you shall know that I am the Lord,
when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. 14 I will put my
spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil;
then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sermon: “You
Shall Live”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m
not sure anything is as terrifying as not being able to breathe. I was 26 years
old, a seminary senior and on a trip with fellow students to Jamaica to study
the church there. There had been a malaria outbreak in Kingston, so we all
needed anti-malarial meds. They made me very sick to my stomach. Eventually, we
decided I needed to see a local doctor, and we did. He prescribed an
anti-nausea medicine (one that is not prescribed in the States due to the
prevalence of allergic reactions). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After
a few days of taking this, with an increasingly tight throat, it got bad. It
was actually during our last night’s dinner with the president of the seminary
we were visiting. During his prayer at the start of our meal, my tongue
swelled, and my throat began to close. I got to the hospital in time, thank God
it was just across in street, but I’ll never forget it. I was traumatized for
weeks after that about not being able to breathe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fast
forward to last Thanksgiving. I was in Texas with my family and eating a bowl
of fruit for breakfast. Suddenly, my whole mouth went itchy and, again, my
tongue started swelling. My mind went straight back to Jamaica and I was
terrified. Thankfully Benadryl did its job, and I was okay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
saw an allergist as soon as I got back to NC, and though I tested positive for
grape allergy, she was sure it was a fluke, and my reaction was caused by some
environmental allergen instead (since I am allergic to so many things). I
wasn’t convinced. Even grape juice at communion Christmas Eve gave me a rash.
It wasn’t until April that I got tested again and confirmed that I do in fact
have a grape allergy. I was given an Epipen that I must keep with me always.
Because there’s nothing as scary for me as not being able to breathe. (I now only
take the bread at communion, just to be safe. Joanna Hipp and I joke that, with
her avoiding the bread because of her allergy and me avoiding the juice, we
make a full communion together.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Right
in the midst of all my anxiety surrounding this, I went to Credo in March; that
wonderful conference aimed at creating healthier pastors, and thus healthier
churches. They packed us full of things: consultations, conversations, worship,
visioning. And then, abruptly, they stopped. We had 4 whole hours to just sit,
pray, and meditate, in total silence. Some in our group dubbed it “Introverts
Revenge.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And
so I plopped down in an old recliner by the window of our retreat center with
my Bible and journal. And I waited. It didn’t take long for my health-related
anxieties to surface in the silence. Instead of running from them, or indulging
them, I just examined them, as objectively as possible. What was I truly afraid
of? The answer hit me as immediately as God’s response to it. I was afraid of
not breathing. And God had an answer for me: Ezekiel 37. It came to mind in the
unbidden way the Spirit often speaks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Mortal,
can these bones live?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The bewildered response:
“Surely you know, God!” (with its subtext “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hope</i> you know!”)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The patient promise to a
bare-bones faith: “I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, God wasn’t just
promising oxygen. God knows we can be breathing but not really living.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">God used a different word: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ruah.</i> Breath, wind, spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I will cause spirit to enter
you, and you shall live.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I sat in my comfy old
recliner by that window, I realized that I didn’t just need breath in terms of
oxygen. I needed God’s breath, God’s Spirit, to fill my anxious spirit with
hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If Pentecost is the promise
of anything, I believe it’s the promise of that. That God’s Spirit meets our
bare-bones anxious spirits, again and again, refusing to abandon us to the dry valleys
of fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, I’ll be honest<span style="color: red;">:</span> I’m still, at times, in the irrational workings of
anxiety, terrified that I’ll not be able to breathe. I know where my Epipen is
at all times, even as I speak to you now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I also, with the help of
a wonderful, faithful therapist, carry an emotional and spiritual Epipen at all
times. And it is these words: “I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall
live.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe on this Pentecost day,
you need the Spirit to come like a blazing tongue of fire. And if you do, I hope
She comes like that for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But maybe, like me, you
instead need the Spirit to come like your next deep, calming breath, and the
one after that, and the one after that, until you forget to worry so much, and
breathing itself becomes a peaceful prayer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes, like in Ezekiel’s
case, that Breath, that Spirit, wants a little help. “Prophesy to the breath,”
he was told. He bade that Breath to come from the East and the West, the North
and the South, and it did. An entire people were brought back to life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who does that for you, I
wonder? Who’s your prophet? Who is that person who dares to speak life to you? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And for whom are you called
to be that prophet? To remind them of God’s powerful Spirit when their faith is
nothing but bare bones? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like I said in the beginning,
maybe there’s nothing as terrifying as not being able to breathe. But that
being said, maybe there’s nothing as celebratory as a single breath; as holy, as
joyful, as resilient as a single breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We may not always have easy
moments, but we do have this breath, and the next, and the next, as many as God
gives us. The Breath of God within us, working life in us from the inside out. That
is God’s Pentecost promise to this world. And, even on our hardest days, isn’t
that worth celebrating? God’s Spirit is with us all, through those prophets who
dare to gather holy breath from the most far-flung corners of the earth. We can
breathe. We shall live. Thanks be to God! Amen. </span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-77529844209483402822017-05-14T12:50:00.003-07:002017-05-14T12:50:43.070-07:00Chosen to Proclaim<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<b><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">May 14, 2017 - 5th Sunday of Easter</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghW7FLoAtdguFllzxzKHQG2TMCokTAssbbqhkm1YXo4tD1kTo0PbPtdZS2eGlkkSB8IaYlRNFppThU8p4M-AX8URsA9bjBFdKGgfXOQ2md-anWWLo2U2oWEw3-gvI8VdwVHTWIpUK_-x4/s1600/10923288_10106560062359324_2566197327482251460_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghW7FLoAtdguFllzxzKHQG2TMCokTAssbbqhkm1YXo4tD1kTo0PbPtdZS2eGlkkSB8IaYlRNFppThU8p4M-AX8URsA9bjBFdKGgfXOQ2md-anWWLo2U2oWEw3-gvI8VdwVHTWIpUK_-x4/s400/10923288_10106560062359324_2566197327482251460_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Made my me using an image by Swinx on www.society6.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">1 Peter 2:1-10<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Rid
yourselves, therefore, of all malice, and all guile, insincerity, envy, and all
slander. <sup><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">2</span></sup>Like
newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow
into salvation— <sup><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">3</span></sup>if
indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span class="vv1"><span style="color: windowtext; display: none; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hide: all;">4</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Come to him, a living stone,
though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and <sup><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">5</span></sup>like living stones, let
yourselves be built<a href="file:///javascript/void(0)%3B"><sup><span style="color: windowtext; display: none; mso-hide: all;">*</span></sup></a> into a
spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices
acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. <sup><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">6</span></sup>For it stands in scripture:<br />
‘See, I am laying in Zion a stone,<br />
a cornerstone chosen and precious;<br />
and whoever believes in him<a href="file:///javascript/void(0)%3B"><sup><span style="color: windowtext; display: none; mso-hide: all;">*</span></sup></a> will not
be put to shame.’ <br />
<sup><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">7</span></sup>To you then who
believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe,<br />
‘The stone that the builders rejected<br />
has become the very head of the corner’, <br />
<sup><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">8</span></sup>and<br />
‘A stone that makes them stumble,<br />
and a rock that makes them fall.’<br />
They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span class="vv1"><span style="color: windowtext; display: none; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hide: all;">9</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;"> But you are a chosen race,
a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,<a href="file:///javascript/void(0)%3B"><sup><span style="color: windowtext; display: none; mso-hide: all;">*</span></sup></a> in order that you may proclaim
the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous
light. <br />
<sup><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">10</span></sup>Once you were not a
people,<br />
but now you are God’s people;<br />
once you had not received mercy,<br />
but now you have received mercy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Sermon: “Chosen to Proclaim”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">“You are
a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Now
doesn’t that just feel GOOD?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re
chosen by God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take a moment, turn to
your neighbor, and tell them, “You are chosen by God.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Chosen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hand-picked by God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you remember playing as a child, and
having to pick teams?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, the horror of being
the last one picked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Standing there
awkwardly shuffling your feet, praying that someone, anyone would call your
name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shame of being <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too short</i> and being the consolation
prize for the last team to pick someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or remember a time when you were going for that promotion you’d worked
so hard for, only to not be the CHOSEN one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s not a good feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">But 1
Peter this morning tells us that we are chosen by God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re God’s first choice for the heavenly
dodgeball team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first pick for a
promotion into heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A chosen
race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A royal priesthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A holy nation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God’s own people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
feels good to be chosen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">A lot of
Christians have talked about how good it feels to be God’s chosen people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here are some examples: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">“I believe that I am acting in
accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">“Who says I am not under the
special protection of God?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">“But God knows he has given us an
extremely difficult, complicated mission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have seen his hand in history, and I see little miracles
everyday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loves his people so much he
came to earth and walked among us and sacrificed himself for us—to redeem his
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will preserve his people.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">We might
say these same statements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They sound
pretty good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people knew what it
meant to be chosen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">But
before we shout our (inner) Presbyterian “Amen” to these statements, I have to
tell you the whole story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first two
statements were made by none other than Adolf Hitler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last, by a member of the Klu Klux Klan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Do you
see the harm caused by wrongly interpreting being chosen by God?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dwelling on the idea of chosenness is
dangerous. History has shown us this again and again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">So that
we can safeguard against doing this, let’s look at the 1 Peter text again: “But
you are a chosen race (which means “family” in the Greek, by the way), a royal
priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">in order that</b> you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who brought
you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">In.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Order.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">That.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">So much
meaning in three little words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are
chosen in order that we will proclaim God’s great acts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are chosen to proclaim the One who chose
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you see, if we stop at the ‘being
chosen’ part, focusing only on that, we miss half of the equation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We end up sounding very much like Adolf
Hitler or the KKK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">The
writer of 1 Peter doesn’t just tell us we’re chosen; he also tells us what this
chosenness should look like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who’s the
first person who is said to be chosen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The one “rejected by mortals, yet chosen and precious in God’s sight.” Jesus
Christ. The chosen one is rejected by people, suffers and gives his life for all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chosen one dies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So chosenness, then, doesn’t look so much
like a mighty victory or sense of superiority. Chosenness looks like self-sacrifice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looks like giving entirely of yourself for
others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">We see
this in scripture through those chosen people of Israel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their chosenness led them to hardship and
wandering in the wilderness, longing for home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their chosenness gave them such an accountable and intimate relationship
with God that God demanded great faithfulness of them, and even punished them
when they fell short.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their chosenness
meant that if they oppressed the needy in their midst, or the foreigner, or the
widow or the orphan, they themselves suffered for their actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, we have to ask ourselves a very honest
question: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do we really want to call
ourselves chosen, with all that demands?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Perhaps
it would be more comfortable to have less demanded of us, to simply be tolerated
by God, or enjoyed even, but not chosen. But our chosenness never was of our
own choosing – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God chooses</i> to be in
relationship with us flawed people, again and again. And if God makes that
risky choice, we too must take a risk. We must risk proclaiming what this
relationship with God means. We must risk naming that we are not little gods in
little worlds of our making. We belong to God and to this one world family. We
are chosen to proclaim this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, how do we do this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another look at 1 Peter reminds us that we
are to “rid ourselves of all malice, guile, insincerity, envy and all
slander.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So a good start is choosing to
hold ourselves to a higher standard, God’s standard. We do not descend into the
bickering, malicious tactics that are so seductive and prevalent these days,
but instead practice sincerity, contentment, kindness, and honesty (whether
we’re shown that or not). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">From
that place, we can proclaim who God is with authenticity and relevance. And who
would you say God is? How would you proclaim God’s mighty acts in your life?
I’m betting none of you would name God as hateful, or bitter, or spiteful. And
yet, sometimes we people of Christian faith have done just that: proclaiming a
God very unlike our own through acting exactly opposite to how we should. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">It’s not
enough to say we’re chosen. We have to say we’re chosen for something: for proclaiming.
But it’s also not enough to proclaim any old thing: we have to proclaim the God
who chose us first. Not our pride, not our superiority, not our rightness, not
even our most deeply held political convictions. We proclaim the God who gave
us a voice in the first place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">It’s
scary stuff, this proclamation work. You won’t often find us Presbys on a box
on a street corner with a megaphone. But we don’t need the props – we’re
proclaiming all the time, whether we mean to or not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">How we
treat the person who pulls out in front of us in traffic is a proclamation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Whether
we bother to make eye contact with the waiter who refills our coffee is a
proclamation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">How
quickly we react to one another with impatience is a proclamation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">How much
of our time and money we give to those in need is a proclamation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">The
value we place on women in our society, and the histories we teach our children
is a proclamation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Just as
we’re chosen all the time, out of God’s grace and not of our own doing, so we
are proclaiming all the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Let’s
proclaim the mighty acts of the One who called us out of darkness into his
marvelous light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s proclaim that we
were once scattered, divided and alone, but God made us one family. Let’s
proclaim that our faith is not about perfection, or racial or political
superiority, but about God’s mercy for all of us in Jesus Christ. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">We’re
chosen – but that’s only the half of it. We’re chosen to proclaim. So, I
suppose the question really is: what do we have to say?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Alleluia!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-36255250494726742852017-04-30T16:04:00.002-07:002017-04-30T16:12:28.105-07:00The Promise<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSdZEFOC19CVplIJyxrTekUzWDbqSIodypDUfhtQzoAkmGZnPwSfiCmThBHPlJirlv_2PWOEN_WYkBXpKSC1_A1rncUJq41cfqHk0Ij6WX_jpDvIrk6EwCSTHoGNRrs9w9Z_VIig0YNss/s1600/11116729_833150270110476_1516477865_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSdZEFOC19CVplIJyxrTekUzWDbqSIodypDUfhtQzoAkmGZnPwSfiCmThBHPlJirlv_2PWOEN_WYkBXpKSC1_A1rncUJq41cfqHk0Ij6WX_jpDvIrk6EwCSTHoGNRrs9w9Z_VIig0YNss/s400/11116729_833150270110476_1516477865_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/hphotos-xfp1/t51.2885-15/e15/11116729_833150270110476_1516477865_n.jpg">Image Source</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>April 30, 2017 - 3rd Sunday of Easter</b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Acts 2:14a, 36-41<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><sup>14a</sup>Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><sup>36</sup>“Therefore let the entire house of Israel know with certainty that God
has made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><sup>37</sup>Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter
and to the other apostles, “Brothers, what should we do?” <sup>38</sup>Peter
said to them, “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus
Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the
Holy Spirit. <sup>39</sup>For <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">the
promise</b> is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away,
everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.” <sup>40</sup>And he testified
with many other arguments and exhorted them, saying, “Save yourselves from this
corrupt generation.” <sup>41</sup>So those who welcomed his message were
baptized, and that day about three thousand persons were added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></o:p><b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sermon: “The Promise”</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Teach your children how to forgive, make your homes places of love and
forgiveness; make your streets and neighborhoods centers of peace and
reconciliation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be a crime
against youth, and their future, to let even one child grow up with nothing but
the experience of violence and hatred.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">These words were spoken by
Pope John Paul II at mass in Drogheda, Ireland on September 29, 1979. They are
a challenge for all adults to not pass on the hatred of the troubled past to
the next generation. But even more than that, they are a promise to those
children, that they will know a kinder, less violent world than those who came
before them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I read and re-read our
text from Acts this week, one line from Peter’s sermon kept coming back to me: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For the
promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone
whom the Lord our God calls to him.” </i>These words are especially wonderful, because in
the Greek it doesn’t just say ‘sons;’ Peter is careful to use the word for both
genders of children: girls and boys alike are equally entitled to this promise.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But
what is this promise? In a word: forgiveness. Peter begins his sermon by "cutting people to the heart." His delivery is blunt, speaking of Jesus’ murder
by saying, “this Jesus whom <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">you</b>
crucified.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He’s
not allowing them to gloss over their complicity in the death of Jesus. But –
and this is really important – he’s not denying his own complicity, either.
History has taken these words of Peter as an excuse for incredible hatred and
harm. Blaming Jews for Jesus’ death has been used a theological rational for
everything from distrust to prejudice to the Holocaust. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What
a twisting this is of Peter’s words! After all, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he was a Jew</i>, speaking to his own people, not an outsider
condemning another racial and religious group (a very important distinction).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And he didn’t just name
complicity – like Pope John Paul II would later do, he also named a promise,
not just for them, but for their children, girls and boys alike. The promise of
forgiveness, freely given and received from God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now, there are some preachers
who would at this point make this a sermon about praying a short prayer and
accepting Jesus into your heart. But here’s the thing: Peter wasn’t<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> just</i> preaching to the hearts of people.
His Lord had been killed by a collusion of state and religious power. So, he
was also preaching to the heart of systems of injustice<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. </i>To neighborhoods ravaged by violence. To households in which
children grew up hating and fearing the other just because they were other.
Yes, he may have wanted people to personally accept the promises Jesus had for
them, but this is much farther reaching than any individual: 3,000 people were
baptized. That’s even more people than live in Cameron!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just as violence and hatred
are a communal act, so forgiveness and repentance are, too. Let us never think
the gospel is just about my “personal relationship with God.” It is also always
about my relationship with my neighbor, especially the neighbor I have a
tendency to label, judge or hate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When power is wedded to that
hatred, we all know what happens. History has shown it, though it’s been downplayed
and hidden. But the truth always prevails.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Such is the case in the film
The Promise. It tells the story of the Armenian Genocide in the early 20<sup>th</sup>
century, a period of 3 years in which 1.5 million Armenians were murdered by
the Ottoman Empire and its successor state, Turkey. Turkish authorities have
denied this genocide, calling the death of so many Armenians mere collateral
damage in a civil war. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Promise is a love story
by nature, but its deeper purpose is to viscerally depict a terrible historic
reality: that Armenians were exterminated by their own government. It might
come as no surprise that this movie was written and directed by Terry George, a
Belfast boy whose been a part of numerous films about the Troubles, as well as
Hotel Rwanda, shedding light on that conflict. His mission is to tell the
ugliest parts of human history, and he did it again here. It seems odd to name
such a movie The Promise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What promise could there be
in the face of genocide and violence? The same promise Peter spoke of:
repentance and forgiveness. A wound that is constantly covered up or ignored
will never heal: it must be exposed to the light, given air, and treated
directly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While most documents the
Ottoman had relating to the Armenian Genocide were destroyed or hidden away, a
telegram has been discovered by Turkish historian Taner Akcam from July 4,
1915. On official Ottoman letterhead, it asks whether deported Armenians have
been ‘liquidated’ yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In an interview<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[1]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>,
Akcam was asked a blunt question: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You are Turkish. You are not Armenian. Why have you
devoted your life, your career, to studying the Armenian genocide?” </i>He
replied,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I'm an historian. It is my job to educate [a] new generation on
violence in the past so that this should not happen again in the future.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have a good friend and colleague, Rev. Julie Hoplamazian who
is Armenian. For her, denial of the Armenian Genocide is denial of her own
story: she lost much of her family. Medz Mayrig, her great-grandmother survived
through the kindness of a Turkish family who took her as a slave girl, and
later she was able to escape to the States. Most were not so lucky. Despite
warning after warning from journalists and missionaries, the world failed to
respond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">My friend writes, “</span><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">Sadly, the lesson was not learned;
this mistake of history was repeated just a quarter century later. In a speech
authorizing the invasion of Poland and the ruthlessness with which his soldiers
were to act, Adolf Hitler said<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[2]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> '</span></i><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">I have issued the command</i><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">...</i><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">our war aim does not consist in reaching certain lines, but in the
physical destruction of the enemy</i><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">...</i><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?'</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"> Justifying his evil
genocide with the assurance that history would not speak of it, Adolf Hitler
succeeded in killing 6 million Jews during World War </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">II."</span><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We
have to speak of it, to remember in order to forgive and be set free from our
patterns of violence, because genocide still happens<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[3]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>. In
Syria. In Sudan. In the Democratic Republic of Congo. In Ethiopia. In Burma. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If
this season of Easter is anything, it is a promise that just because
crucifixion is the way of the world, we don’t have to ignore it, or be
complicit in it. Peter named Jesus’ violent death that he could then name the
promises of repentance and forgiveness. Jesus didn’t rise again because he was
bored in that tomb. He rose because he refused – and refuses still – to let
violence and hatred reign. He rose because he wants better for the children of
this world than genocide. (After all, he was nearly a victim of it through
Herod.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If
we claim to be an Easter people, as we should, then our faith can’t just be
about our private souls. It has to be about communal salvation as well – doing
all we can to ensure that every child is saved. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because
it’s not enough to say the promise is just for us…what a cheapening of God’s
grace that would be!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This
promise is for every child of God, to know a life without threat, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">a
home of peace and forgiveness, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and a church that never forgets them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Alleluia! Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<br />
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: 12.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> <a href="http://www.npr.org/2017/04/24/525441639/recently-discovered-telegram-reveals-evidence-for-armenian-genocide">http://www.npr.org/2017/04/24/525441639/recently-discovered-telegram-reveals-evidence-for-armenian-genocide</a></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "garamond";">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">http://www.armenian-genocide.org/hitler.html</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "garamond";">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> http://www.genocidewatch.org/alerts/newsalerts.html</span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-85832296252326019692017-04-23T16:33:00.002-07:002017-04-23T16:33:29.780-07:00The Weight of the Wait<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNiZYa-sM4ag3iDxXsD-RHDhcoK9KojCdeXCHdNfqwltvrL5C70UJ0wUzquje2cfv6r7l5KLAEW0HCMi6uT4U2vNYJYfaRC8IvnJti_d00UTKv6oC-JsbK0rZARCH0aZiPe4YDhYc6_g/s1600/PHG_0877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNiZYa-sM4ag3iDxXsD-RHDhcoK9KojCdeXCHdNfqwltvrL5C70UJ0wUzquje2cfv6r7l5KLAEW0HCMi6uT4U2vNYJYfaRC8IvnJti_d00UTKv6oC-JsbK0rZARCH0aZiPe4YDhYc6_g/s640/PHG_0877.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"History" by <a href="http://suegough.blogspot.com/p/paintings.html">Sue Gough</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">April 23, 2017 - Second Sunday of Easter</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“The Weight of the Wait”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">John 20:19-31<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>19 </b>When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week,
and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of
the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” <b>20 </b>After he said
this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when
they saw the Lord. <b>21 </b>Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father
has sent me, so I send you.” <b>22 </b>When he had said this, he breathed on
them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. <b>23 </b>If you forgive
the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they
are retained.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>24 </b>But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was
not with them when Jesus came. <b>25 </b>So the other disciples told him, “We
have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails
in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his
side, I will not believe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>26 </b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A week later </b>his disciples
were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were
shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” <b>27 </b>Then he said to
Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it
in my side. Do not be unbelieving, but believe.” <b>28 </b>Thomas answered
him, “My Lord and my God!” <b>29 </b>Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen
me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>30 </b>Now Jesus did
many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in
this book. <b>31 </b>But these are
written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of
God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sermon: “The
Weight of the Wait”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Punctuality
has never been my strength. I think it all started at the very beginning of my
life: I was born a twin, but even then I was late, arriving several minutes
after my brother. And I kind of feel like I’ve been trying to play catch up my
whole life. I suppose I should introduce myself: I’m Thomas, sometimes called
“the Twin”, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>called “the
doubter.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here’s
the thing: I don’t actually mind being called a doubter. What I mind is when
people say it as if it were an insult. Doubt and faith are two sides of the
same coin. I wasn’t asking for more proof than the other disciples…they’d
already had it. I was simply asking for what they’d been shown already. And, it
might be good for you to know that Jesus didn’t even say the word “doubt.” That
word is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">distaz</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ō</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>and doesn’t actually appear in this story in its original
language. Jesus used another word instead: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">apistos</i>, meaning “unbelieving.” This word is a much kinder
one than doubt…after all, how many of us, on hearing incredible or shocking
news, involuntarily gasp, “I can’t believe it!” Unbelief is the valid response
to the unbelievable, the incredible. That word is also not an insult. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, after getting that doubt
elephant in the room addressed, I’d like to share with you a part of my story
people seem to miss because they’re way too fixated on that “D” word. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After Jesus was killed, all
the other disciples were locked in a room, afraid that what happened to him
would happen to them. I wasn’t. I didn’t care about what might happen to me
(after all, you may remember that when my friend Lazarus died, I told everyone
we should go, that we might die with him). What I cared about was finding Jesus
(you’ll also remember that when Jesus said he was going away, I pressed him,
saying “we don’t know the way to where you’re going” and he said, “I am the
way, and the truth, and the life.”). I wanted to find Jesus, and so I didn’t go
and lock myself away like the other disciples. I suppose I should have known
that Jesus would find us first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so, I was late to the resurrection
party, surprise, surprise. When I did get there, the faces of my friends were
glowing with a holy joy: “He’s alive!” they said. “We’ve seen him!” I was so
tired, I just slumped down right there and cried. I felt a perplexing mingling
of relief and deep sorrow. Thomas, the twin. Too late again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then comes the part of my
story everyone seems to miss, a part that has shaped my faith in significant
ways: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I had to wait for a week before
Jesus appeared to us again. </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Week.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">
</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I want you to just for a moment
picture the person you love most in the world. Now imagine that they were
stolen away from you. You finally get word that they’re okay, but you can’t see
them. You can’t touch their face, or hug them, or hear their voice. All you can
do is wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Knowing Jesus was likely to
appear again around us disciples, I stayed in that locked room for a week
straight. I ate there, I slept there, I barely looked after myself in brief
snatches, rushing back into the room in case I missed him again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The weight of that wait was excruciating. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But you know that, don’t you?
You’ve waited, too, I can see it. Some of you wait for a child or grandchild to
come back to you, emotionally or physically. Some of you wait for healing, for
life to feel whole and normal again. Some of you wait for things to get just a
little less hectic, so you’re not flitting from crisis to crisis. Some of you
wait to be shown God’s purpose for your life, a reason for getting up in the
morning. Some of you even wait for the eternal glory of heaven. The waiting
time is excruciating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But time is a funny thing.
Even against our wills, time works the waiting into a rhythm all its own. We
begin to form patterns, like I did (check the door, water the plants, sweep the
floor, pray) and through what I can only call the grace of God, the waiting
becomes a holy thing all its own. Now, don’t mistake my meaning here – holiness
is rarely comfortable and cozy. The waiting is still excruciating, but even in
that anxiety, holiness creeps in, surprises us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What I mean is, Jesus’
resurrection hope started coming to me, even before he appeared in the flesh. I
began to find joy in my little routine everyday, to feel that even though there
were so many things beyond my control, I could keep that plant alive, that floor
swept, my friends safe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The ache of grief in the pit
of my stomach softened, and though it was still there, I could breathe. The
waiting taught me patience. Not some super pious patience towards <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">time </i>itself; no, it taught me first to
be patient with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">myself, </i>with others,
too. In the times of waiting, we have to be gentle with ourselves and others,
extra kind, and celebrate those small victories of doing the best we can with
what we have. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Perhaps waiting is so weighty
because it’s actually the best thing for our faith. It’s our best spiritual
exercise for a healthy soul. (And like most exercise, we’d really rather not
have to do it!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">By the time Jesus did come, a
full week later, it didn’t shock me. I knew he would come when he was ready. He
came straight to me, seeing the toll the waiting had taken on me, and without
me even asking, said, “Thomas, see, touch, believe.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I did, and could see that
though he was alive in every sense of the word, he, too bore the wounds of
waiting. Waiting for humanity’s lust for violence to stop. Waiting for his
followers to get out from behind their locked doors and actually do all he told
them to do. Waiting to be reunited with the Creator and the Spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Unbelief left my vocabulary
for a time, though of course it creeps in every now and then. But it wasn’t
just touching him that did that; it was also the waiting that did that. Because
life doesn’t just come in the grand moments of glory and delight; it mostly
comes in the small, less glamorous moments of waiting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, friends, let me, Late
Thomas, encourage you: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">you can never
really be late for the resurrection party.</b> It’s never too late to
experience life. And no wait is too weighty for God to come and meet you in it,
to form your faith through it, yes, faith in God, but mostly, faith in
yourself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whatever it is you wait for,
embrace that holy, uncomfortable time. Seek out and create small signs of
resurrection even in the waiting. And cling to the promise that, eventually,
when he is ready, Jesus will come to you, perhaps when you least expect it. He
probably won’t apologize for taking so long (though we wish he would). But he
will instead say this, “Peace be with you.” And it really will. Alleluia! Amen.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-40576344390216010602017-04-16T10:11:00.003-07:002017-04-16T10:11:57.156-07:00The Resurrection Road<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZcxNlQKcT9gApc4qcqMuBbRBBJe_0Nv_k2DFKLhaFeRwhWhEiWTBAqSA67XhEcaNysnC6ICKSKfGajbq5uJMmd-nbT6eEuvaG87bkrstbGOgzNDZ_NmKfwTGWK4i_yZ8ce8tutAofPA/s1600/dusty_road_by_rtulga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZcxNlQKcT9gApc4qcqMuBbRBBJe_0Nv_k2DFKLhaFeRwhWhEiWTBAqSA67XhEcaNysnC6ICKSKfGajbq5uJMmd-nbT6eEuvaG87bkrstbGOgzNDZ_NmKfwTGWK4i_yZ8ce8tutAofPA/s640/dusty_road_by_rtulga.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://orig04.deviantart.net/b5ec/f/2009/012/6/7/dusty_road_by_rtulga.jpg">Image Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 21px;"><b>April 16, 2017 - Easter Sunday</b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Luke 24:13-35<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">13 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Now on that same day two of the
disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from
Jerusalem, </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">14 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">and talking with each other about all
these things that had happened. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">15 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">While they were
talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">16 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">but their eyes
were kept from recognizing him. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">17 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">And he said to
them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They
stood still, looking sad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">18 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Then one of them, whose name was
Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not
know the things that have taken place there in these days?” </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">19 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">He asked them,
“What things?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">They
replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed
and word before God and all the people, </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">20 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">and how our
chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and
crucified him. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">21 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">But we had hoped that he was the one to
redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these
things took place. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">22 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Moreover, some women of our group
astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">23 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">and when they
did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed
seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">24 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Some of those
who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but
they did not see him.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">25 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Then Jesus said to them, “Oh, how
foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have
declared! </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">26 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Was it not necessary that the Messiah
should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">27 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Then beginning
with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about
himself in all the scriptures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">28 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">As they came near the village to which
they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">29 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">But they urged
him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day
is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">30 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">When he was at
the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">31 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Then their eyes
were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">32 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">They said to
each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us
on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">33 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">That same hour
they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their
companions gathered together. </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">34 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">They were saying, “The Lord has risen
indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">35 </span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Then they told
what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the
breaking of the bread.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Sermon: “The
Resurrection Road”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">“The Road
goes ever on and on<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Down from the
door where it began.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Now far ahead
the Road has gone,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And I must
follow, if I can,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Pursuing it
with eager feet,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Until it
joins some larger way<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Where many
paths and errands meet.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And whither
then? I cannot say.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">It’s fun to start a sermon on such a nerdy note: I could tell
which of you lit up at this little Tolkien poem. I’m in good company.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The Road goes ever on and on…roads are so important, and not
just in this book (Tolkien), but in this one too (Bible).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Especially in the New Testament, we find that some of the most
significant events happen on a road. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Of course, there’s the road to Jericho. We’ll call this ‘The
Violent Road’, a place Jesus used to answer that question we should always be
asking ourselves: “and who is my neighbor?” We know it as the parable of the
Good Samaritan, making it about the hero of the story, when of course, that
road was really all about the victim: that man who was mugged, beaten, and left
for dead. Few people ever discuss the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">road
itself</i>, asking what conditions have created such a violent path. Martin
Luther King, Jr. did speak about this road, though, the day before his own
violent death, saying, “</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">On the
one hand we are called to play the good Samaritan on life's roadside; but that
will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho
road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten
and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">From the Violent Road to Jericho, we journey onwards, coming to
another in scripture, famously termed the Via Dolorosa, the Sorrowful Road.
This is, of course, the road Christ walked to Golgotha, to the cross. This road
has been a place of great significance for Christians, especially for our
Catholic friends. The fourteen stations of the cross are found upon it, two
with their roots in scripture: Simon of Cyrene carrying the cross for Jesus for
a time, and Jesus addressing the mourning crowd to weep not for him, but for
their children. The other stations of the Sorrowful Road have more mythical
roots, but that doesn’t mean they’re insignificant. It’s a good time to draw on
the wisdom of Mark Twain who wrote, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Never
let the truth stand in the way of a good story.” <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We have such powerful stories of Jesus’ stops along this
Sorrowful Road: from Jesus’ mother Mary embracing him, to a woman Veronica
wiping his sweat and tear-stained face (and the handkerchief that is said to
miraculously still bear the outline of his face), to multiple falls under the
weight of that sorrow, to his state execution on the cross, and finally, to the
tomb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">After walking this heavy road, we might want to just cozy up in
our hobbit holes with a cup of tea and a comfy chair, and not journey on any
further. But other roads beckon…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">There is the Damascus Road, what we will call “The Salvation
Road,” where Saul meets the blinding grace of God. Jesus took his sight to help
him see for the first time his own hypocrisy and sinfulness. He was not the
pure soul he thought he was; he was a persecutor, with a heart full of violence
and malice. Jesus made him utterly dependent on those he had persecuted,
needing the help of a former enemy – Ananias a follower of The Way – to bring
his sight back (showing how reconciliation really is the heart of the gospel).
Saul became Paul, and was baptized with the grace of God, and the grace of
forgiveness from his former enemy. You might just say that Christianity as we
know it wouldn’t have happened, had it not been for that road. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">But then, we’ve left out the most important road of all, our
final journey this morning: the road to Emmaus. We’ll call this “the Resurrection
Road.” Two disciples walked that dusty road to Emmaus. We know one of them was
Alphaeus, also know as Clopas or Cleopas, father of James. The other isn’t
named, but some<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>
have surmised that the second disciple was a woman, Alphaeus’ own wife, Mary,
who on that first day of the week, a work day, would have traveled back to
Emmaus with her husband, rather than be left behind. This also fits with their
later reporting to “the eleven.” For the sake of a good story, let’s say it was
Alphaeus and Mary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">They walked that Resurrection Road, but they didn’t know that
was its name. You see, they thought they were still on the Via Dolorosa, after
all, tears kept them from clearly seeing the stranger who suddenly walked along
beside them. They didn’t realize that the resurrection had happened, that even
the dust clinging to their weary sandals had been already redeemed by the life-giving
work of their Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">The risen Jesus patiently walked with them, listening to their
grief and sorrow. Finally, unable to wait any longer, he explained to them all
that the Messiah had to endure. But grief doesn’t always listen to logic; grief
listens instead to another language: hospitality. (You see, there’s a reason
casseroles hold such healing power in churches!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">These disciples were heartbroken, yes, but they weren’t rude.
They invited this wise stranger to stay with them. Then it was Jesus’ -- that
holy guest’s -- turn to return the favor, and he blessed and broke bread with
them, as we’ll soon do. Suddenly, their eyes were opened, and they recognized
him, and recognized that they’d been walking on the Resurrection Road all along,
without even knowing it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">What roads are we walking on today, I wonder? Maybe you feel
like you’re trudging along on the Violent Road, watching helplessly as people
get hurt and oppressed again and again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Maybe you feel like you’re painfully plodding along the
Sorrowful Road, that Via Dolorosa, and barely able to continue carrying your
own cross of illness or financial worry or grief or loneliness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Maybe you feel like you’re blindly blundering down the Salvation
Road, unable to see what’s ahead, but trusting that Jesus is guiding you as
real as a hand holding your own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">…Now far
ahead the Road has gone,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And I must
follow, if I can,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Pursuing it
with eager feet,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Until it
joins some larger way<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Where many
paths and errands meet.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And whither
then? I cannot say.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Whatever road we’re on, they do all join a larger way, where
many paths meet. That larger way is the Resurrection Road, and like Alphaeus
and possibly Mary, we don’t always recognize that we’re walking on it. But
there is a way to clearly plant our feet on that Resurrection Road, and that
way is hospitality: to invite the stranger in, even and especially in times of
threat and violence, like what the disciples had just witnessed. We welcome the
other, not because they’ve earned it, but because there is only one answer to
that Emmaus Road question, “And who is my neighbor?” Everyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #131313; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">If we long for our feet to find the Resurrection Road, as we
should, it begins and ends with hospitality. That road beckons to us, never
ending, continually calling us from our distracted, destructive wanderings onto
a better path that leads to life and redemption for all, even the dust beneath
our weary feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">No matter how lost, no matter how sorrowful, no matter how
blinded by hatred, no matter how numbed by violence, we can always step onto
that life-giving road. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">We take that first step as those first followers of The Way did,
by saying to the stranger, the wanderer and the refugee, “</span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Stay with us,
because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">And,
just like that, the road goes ever on and on. Christ is risen! He is risen
indeed! Alleluia! Amen.</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> <a href="http://globalchristiancenter.com/christian-living/lesser-known-bible-people/31284-two-on-the-road-to-emmaus"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">http://globalchristiancenter.com/christian-living/lesser-known-bible-people/31284-two-on-the-road-to-emmaus</span></a><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-17023918488996260802017-04-09T15:49:00.001-07:002017-04-09T15:49:24.508-07:00enjoyLENT: The Joy of the Cross<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<b><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">April 9, 2017 - Palm/Passion Sunday</span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">enjoyLENT: The Joy of the Cross<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">John 19:28-30</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>28 </b>After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), “I am thirsty.” <b>29 </b>A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. <b>30 </b>When Jesus had received the wine, he said, “It is finished.” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hebrews 12:1-3, 12-13<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, <b>2 </b>looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> joy</b> that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>3 </b>Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>12 </b>Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, <b>13 </b>and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sermon: “enjoyLENT: The Joy of the Cross”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I was a child, I asked my mom if I could join the Brownies. I didn’t care about badges or meetings…I honestly thought you just got to eat brownies together every week. (Needless to say, I was pretty disappointed.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My delight in sweet treats has been a long time in the making (or baking). This is probably why I’ve become slightly obsessed with the Great British Baking Show, where amateur bakers with jolly accents make all sorts of delectable creations, from a tent in the middle of the English countryside. The mixers get going, the ovens get warming, and I get hungry. My baking fondness is not just because of my incurable sweet tooth, though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I love baking because it’s one of the few things in life where the results are clear. You put ingredients together with as much precision as you can muster, and if you’re lucky, you might just have something edible to show for it. They are transformed into a deliciously new creation, and you feel like you’ve really accomplished something, start to finish (or at least tried to). There is joy in seeing something through to the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe this is what the writer of Hebrews was trying to convey when they wrote about Jesus enduring the cross, and used, of all words, “joy” to describe his passion. It doesn’t make sense to talk about the horror Jesus experienced on the cross as joy. What could be joyful about religious and political power colluding to crucify the very son of God? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Perhaps we find a clue in the final words the author of the gospel of John tells us Jesus said, “It is finished.” Jesus took a last mouthful of wine, letting his final experience with humanity be compassion and not hatred, and said those words with his final breath: It. Is. Finished. Such joy those words hold! He saw it through to the very end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because he wasn’t just saying this life was finished – no, so many other “it’s” were also finished on the cross:<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sin was finished. Though it still clings to us closely, we are never powerless against it. Jesus made it possible for us to choose selflessness instead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Death was finished. Though we will all die, that is never the end of our story. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hatred was finished. Though the powerful will crucify those who dare to speak out for the least and the lost, hatred will never have the final word. Jesus punctuated that sentence with love, forever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Violence was finished. Though the story of Cain and Abel gets replayed in myriad ways again and again, Jesus’ nonviolent endurance of the cross mocked violence itself, and showed there is always another path to take.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In that moment, it was all finished: sin, death, hatred, and violence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once again, Frederick Buechner names this moment better than any other, writing:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141414;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">According to John, the last words Jesus spoke from the cross were, "It is finished." Whether he meant "finished" as brought to an end, in the sense of finality, or "finished" as brought to completion, in the sense of fulfillment, nobody knows. Maybe he meant both.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141414;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What was brought to an end was of course nothing less than his life. The Gospels make no bones about that. He died as dead as any person. All the days of his life led him to this day, and beyond this day there would be no other days, and he knew it. It was finished now, he said. He was finished. He had come to the last of all his moments, and because he was conscious still, alive to his death, maybe as they say the dying do, he caught one final glimpse of the life he had all but finished living.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141414;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who knows what he glimpsed as that life passed before him. Maybe here and there a fragment preserved for no good reason like old snapshots in a desk drawer: the play of sunlight on a wall, a half-remembered face, something somebody said. A growing sense perhaps of destiny: the holy man in the river, a gift for prayer, a gift for moving simple hearts. One hopes he remembered good times, although the Gospels record few: how he once fell asleep in a boat as a storm was coming up, and how he went to a wedding where water was the least of what was turned into wine. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141414;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then the failures of the last days, when only a handful gathered to watch him enter the city on the foal of an ass, and those very likely for the wrong reasons. The terror that he himself had known for a few moments in the garden, and that finally drove even the handful away. <i>Shalom</i> then, the God in him moving his swollen lips to forgive them all, to forgive maybe even God. Finished.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It is finished. But, are we finished with sin, hatred, death, and violence? Do we respond to the suffering of another by lifting a sponge of wine to a parched mouth, or do we mock along with the cynical crowd? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This week, as you know, I’ve spent a lot of time with Juanita. After her accident, that first night, she had to keep very still, and couldn’t have much water because she might have needed surgery. All she could have was a little spongeful at a time, loving put to her lips by her son, Eric. It was only a small thing: that little sponge filled with cold water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it was everything to her. And all the pain, all the fear, all the anxiety, was relieved just for a moment, with that little act of human compassion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She closed her eyes in bliss, tasting each precious drop. And slowly, but surely, she has begun to heal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes it seems like sin, hatred, death, and violence are not finished. Sometimes it seems like Jesus’ death on the cross was so very long ago, and is so very removed from our lives. It can feel like perhaps it mattered then, long before we were even a thought in our parents’ minds, and perhaps it will matter in the future, when we see him, but now? Does the cross matter right now, we wonder?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But then, a little sponge of water meets weary lips, and we’re right there with Jesus again: remembering that each time we resist violence with kindness, each time we choose selflessness over sin, each time we bring life to another human being, each time we channel all our energy into loving, it is finished. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sin, hatred, death, and violence: finished, and we don’t have to eat that bitter, burned bread any longer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because Jesus did that for us: showed us all that the final taste at the cross, and in any place of suffering, would never be violence, and would forever be compassion. How sweet was that sour wine!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What better news could there be? What more reason for joy do we need? It is finished. Thanks be to God! Amen. </span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-73754971433311607552017-03-19T13:59:00.002-07:002017-03-19T13:59:35.956-07:00enjoyLENT: Wise Joy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmGN7UpfmFz8hWf5TkxGQ5oDAD1vscCZfxX87za0nJ6e6bJ5VenEJcDHYEOyAM52_0_f-QYMwCPsPMh-Td7l71fwuUJXAMv3VdqmD7WbmXvuH-lUfP_2Io-TKqb1JCcXI_PP9ELdgu14/s1600/97ab992633a07144d0fbecddd9f9c894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmGN7UpfmFz8hWf5TkxGQ5oDAD1vscCZfxX87za0nJ6e6bJ5VenEJcDHYEOyAM52_0_f-QYMwCPsPMh-Td7l71fwuUJXAMv3VdqmD7WbmXvuH-lUfP_2Io-TKqb1JCcXI_PP9ELdgu14/s400/97ab992633a07144d0fbecddd9f9c894.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/97/ab/99/97ab992633a07144d0fbecddd9f9c894.jpg">Image Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">March 19, 2017 - Third Sunday in Lent</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ecclesiastes 9:7-18 <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>7 </b>Go, eat your bread with en<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">joy</b>ment, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long
ago approved what you do. <b>8 </b>Let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking
on your head. <b>9 </b>Enjoy life with the spouse whom you love, all the days of
your vain life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion
in life, and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. <b>10 </b>Whatever your
hand finds to do, do with your might; for there is no work or thought or knowledge
or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>11 </b>Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift,
nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the
intelligent, nor favor to the skillful; but time and chance happen to them all.
<b>12 </b>For no one can
anticipate the time of disaster. Like fish taken in a cruel net, and like birds
caught in a snare, so mortals are snared at a time of calamity, when it
suddenly falls upon them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>13 </b>I have also seen this example of wisdom under the sun, and it
seemed great to me. <b>14 </b>There was a little city with few people in it. A great king
came against it and besieged it, building great siege works against it. <b>15 </b>Now there was
found in it a poor wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city. Yet no
one remembered that poor man. <b>16 </b>So I said, “Wisdom is better than might;
yet the poor man’s wisdom is despised, and his words are not heeded.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>17 </b>The quiet words of the wise are more to be heeded<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> than the
shouting of a ruler among fools.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>18 </b>Wisdom is better than weapons of war,<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> but one bungler
destroys much good.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sermon: enjoyLENT: Wise
Joy<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A
boat docked in a tiny Thai village. An American tourist complimented the local
fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch
them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Not
very long,” answered the fisherman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“But
then, why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?” asked the American.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
fisherman explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and
those of his family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
American asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a nap with my wife.
In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks,
play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I have a full life…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
American interrupted, “I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You
should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you
catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“And
after that?” asked the fisherman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“With
the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a
third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of
selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing
plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little
village and move to Bangkok, Singapore, or even Hong Kong! From there you can
direct your huge new enterprise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“How
long would that take?” asked the fisherman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Twenty,
perhaps twenty-five years,” replied the American.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“And
after that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Afterwards?
Well my friend, that’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the American,
laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling
stocks and make millions!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Millions?
Really? And after that?” asked the fisherman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“After
that you’ll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep
late, play with your grandchildren, catch a few fish, take a nap with your wife,
and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You
may have heard this parable before. It reveals to us the inherent wisdom and
joy to be found in simplicity. It’s the same message the book of Ecclesiastes
(or Qoheleth in the Hebrew, its true name) is trying to convey. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Life
is fleeing. The effects of time and hardship happen to us all. But en<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">joy</b>ment – living with an indwelling of
joy in all circumstances – is God’s gift to us. Those deemed wise and powerful in
this world are often the most foolish; the poor, like our Thai fisherman,
possess a wisdom the world tends to overlook or dismiss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This
book is often dismissed in the same way: it comes across as inherently
pessimistic (“all is vanity!”) or something to dust off only for funerals (“for
everything there is a season, and a time for ever matter under heaven.”). It
names the uncomfortable realities of life and death, presents confusing
contradictions to us, and certainly does not seem to exude joy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well,
at least not joy in a simplistic understanding of it: the stark realism of
these words doesn’t conjure up warm fuzzy feelings for us. But these words do,
if we’re brave enough to sit with them, show us the path of joy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elsa Tamez explains this
best, writing, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“The book of Qoheleth or
Ecclesiastes has become timely again today, when horizons are closing in and
the present becomes a hard master, demanding sacrifices and suppressing
dreams…we see Qoheleth’s sayings as rays of light, shining through the cracks
in a dark, depressing room.”<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">[1]</b></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This
book offers us a brilliant gift, if we’re patient enough to recognize it: that
gift is joy rooted in wisdom. And that wisdom is rooted in one word, well known
by our humble fisherman, a word that has the potential to radically transform
our faith and our worldview, especially in this season of Lent: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">enough.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Go, eat your
bread with en<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">joy</b>ment, and drink your
wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. Let your
garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your head. </i><b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">En<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">joy</b> life in loving community…whatever
your hands find to do, do with all your might.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We have enough. We are
enough. God is enough. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When
was the last time you gave yourself permission to be enough? Or your spouse, or
your closest friend, or your children, or even your enemy?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In
a world that constantly pressures us to do more, be more, buy more, achieve
more, we find true joy in the wisdom of enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now,
perhaps it’s important to address a rather tricky part of the wisdom this book
offers us: that phrase, “God has long ago approved what you do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This
doesn’t mean I get to steal your cup of coffee because God knows it brings me joy
and approves of my action. Though its wisdom is rooted in simplicity, nothing
in Ecclesiastes, or Qoheleth, is simplistic. The word used for “approved” is
used elsewhere in the Old Testament to talk about God approving sacrifices,
offerings, sabbath, and other acts of righteousness. And so this approval is
rooted in covenant with God and one another, woven through with faithfulness.
(I can’t steal your coffee, or treat you as less than human, and claim God
approves of it.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What
I can do is know that I am, flaws, finitude and all, completely whole through
my Creator. When we know we are enough, and that God is enough, an incredible
joy comes from such wisdom. We can cherish what Mary Oliver calls our “one wild
and precious life.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[2]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>”
It’s joy that enables us to make our fleeting moments count, especially in the
face of opposition, indifference and tyranny. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s
the curious thing about simplicity: claiming that we have enough enables us to
do <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">more</b> than we ever thought
possible. To be people like Sophie Scholl<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[3]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> (whose
name means ‘wisdom’), a twenty-one year old college student in Munich in 1942.
She, her brother, their friends, and their professor secretly produced and
distributed pamphlets called The White Rose, blatantly naming the evil of the
Nazi regime. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They
were eventually caught, arrested, and at their trial, Sophie, the voice of
wisdom, had the courage to speak out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
judge could not understand how such nice, educated German young adults could be
“corrupted” into speaking out on behalf of Jews and against the government. True
wisdom is often seen as foolishness to the powerful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sophie
surprised all who were present by responding, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #2c2c2c;">“Somebody,
after all, had to make a start. What we wrote and said is also believed by many
others. They just don't dare to express themselves as we did.” </span></i><span style="color: #2c2c2c;">Later in the
proceedings, she said to the judge: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You
know the war is lost. Why don't you have the courage to face it?”</i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sophie
and the others were sentenced to death. Witnesses there that day wrote of her
interaction with her parents, their final goodbye. She was calm and clear-eyed,
and when her mother offered her candy, she smiled, delighting in it, and said,
“Gladly! After all I haven’t had any lunch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s
incredible to think of a person in such circumstances finding gladness and joy
in something as simple as a piece of candy, and bringing comfort to her mother
in that moment. But wise Sophie did, because she knew that the work of her
hands, her resistance to tyranny, was enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If
we claim a spirituality of enough, joyfully spending our days with wisdom and
not foolishly wasting them, we can do so much good in this world. We can be set
free from the tyranny of more, and set others free in the process. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You
are enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You
have enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God
is enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">En<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">joy </b>this one wild and precious life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amen.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Tamez. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When the Horizons Close,</i> p 4.</div>
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Mary Oliver. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Summer Day<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-43561463502248276992017-02-26T12:45:00.004-08:002017-02-26T12:46:05.384-08:00Our Values: Support<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PwdDJ5e31fmTJGNmfXgqC054i-J6rZ1NRUNGzpw7gtzdO1hf0aKtxE_phMufLsUowhFzC_XoP6NFI4SkmKE3u0sxJjSvXxP5K3ZsqHBewCAJlskqFzi6xdTSVHQ72uwnEB-R9Xeaok4/s1600/dolphins-swimming-underwater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PwdDJ5e31fmTJGNmfXgqC054i-J6rZ1NRUNGzpw7gtzdO1hf0aKtxE_phMufLsUowhFzC_XoP6NFI4SkmKE3u0sxJjSvXxP5K3ZsqHBewCAJlskqFzi6xdTSVHQ72uwnEB-R9Xeaok4/s640/dolphins-swimming-underwater.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://personalexcellence.co/files/dolphins-swimming-underwater.jpg">Image Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #2e0806; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-style: italic;">Cameron Presbyterian Church engaged in a value-forming exercise at our Annual Congregational Meeting, and determined four values that will guide us in 2017: compassion & caring, faith, serving and support. Each Sunday in February, I will focus on one of these values.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">February 26, 2017</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruth 1:8-22, 4:13-17
<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>8 </b>Naomi
said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back each of you to your mother’s house.
May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me.
<b>9 </b>The Lord grant
that you may find security, each of you in the house of your husband.” Then she
kissed them, and they wept aloud. <b>10 </b>They said to her, “No, we will return
with you to your people.” <b>11 </b>But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters, why will you go
with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? <b>12 </b>Turn back, my
daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. Even if I thought
there was hope for me, even if I should have a husband tonight and bear sons, <b>13 </b>would you then
wait until they were grown? Would you then refrain from marrying? No, my
daughters, it has been far more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of
the Lord has turned against me.” <b>14 </b>Then they wept aloud again. Orpah kissed
her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>15 </b>So Naomi said, “See, your sister-in-law has gone back to her
people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>16 </b>But Ruth said,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Do
not press me to leave you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> or to turn back
from following you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Where
you go, I will go;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> where you lodge,
I will lodge;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">your
people shall be my people,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and your God my
God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>17 </b>Where you die, I will die—<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> there will I be
buried.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">May
the Lord do thus and so to me,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and more as
well,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">if
even death parts me from you!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>18 </b>When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she
said no more to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>19 </b>So the two of them went on until they came to Bethlehem. When
they came to Bethlehem, the whole town was stirred because of them; and the
women said, “Is this Naomi?” <b>20 </b>She said to them,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Call
me no longer Naomi,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> call me Mara
[which means “Bitter”],<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> for the Almighty
has dealt bitterly with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>21 </b>I went away full,<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> but the Lord has
brought me back empty;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">why
call me Naomi<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> when the Lord
has dealt harshly with me,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and the Almighty
has brought calamity upon me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>22 </b>So Naomi returned together with Ruth the Moabite, her
daughter-in-law, who came back with her from the country of Moab. They came to
Bethlehem at the beginning of the barley harvest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So
Boaz took Ruth and she became his wife. When they came together, the Lord made
her conceive, and she bore a son. <b>14 </b>Then the women said to Naomi, “Blessed
be the Lord, who has not left you this day without next-of-kin; and may his
name be renowned in Israel! <b>15 </b>He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your
old age; for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven
sons, has borne him.” <b>16 </b>Then Naomi took the child and laid him in her bosom, and
became his nurse. <b>17 </b>The women of the neighborhood gave him a name, saying, “A son
has been born to Naomi.” They named him Obed [which means “worshipper”]; he
became the father of Jesse, the father of David.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sermon: “Our
Values: Support”</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The
other night, I curled up with my chamomile tea and a novel, and began to unwind
from the day in my favorite way. I’m reading a book called I<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reland</i> by Frank Delaney<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[1]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>, and
it is an inventive and incredible tale of that emerald isle. Like only happens
with the best of books, I felt myself getting pulled in, as I read each
paragraph with more speed than the last. Books are the best down time for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But,
I’ll tell you a secret: we pastors don’t often get total down time. Though I
was curled up with Fifi, tea and a book, a little part of my brain was doing
what it does every week: ruminating on the coming text to preach on. And so,
when I read a particular paragraph of my novel, I immediately stopped, wrote it
down, and connected it with our Ruth story for today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here’s
what was written, when describing an adventurous expedition by sea:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“We do well to
remember dolphins. If a dolphin ails, then others come alongside and nudge him
gently through the waters; because a dolphin must keep moving in order to keep
breathing. We all have need of our dolphins alongside us from time to time.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now,
I’ll be honest, I had no idea I’d be talking to you about dolphins today! But
what a perfect description of our value of support: gently keeping one another
moving so we can keep breathing. It’s easier said than done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For
Ruth, keeping her mother-in-law Naomi breathing after the loss of her son meant
one word: clung. We hear that Orpah kissed Naomi goodbye, but not Ruth. Ruth <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">clung</b> to her. This Hebrew word is used
rarely in the Old Testament, but nearly always it’s describing the way skin clings
to bone. This is not holding hands; this is not a pat on the back; this is not
an awkward half hug. No, Ruth <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clung</i>
to Naomi in her grief, like how our skin clings to our very bones, and she refused
to let go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Naomi,
showing that common fear we have when we’re suffering (being a burden to
others), told Ruth to go. Leave. Live her own life. But Ruth said no. She
stayed with her, journeyed with her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It’s
a testament to the depths of Naomi’s grief that when she came to Bethlehem, sorrow
had so etched its painful lines on her face that those who knew her best didn’t
even recognize her. She was changed, not really able to keep breathing, and she
named herself Bitter. But – and this really is the point of the whole story –
she was not alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruth
was her dolphin, nudging her, clinging to her, keeping her breathing. And then
Boaz was their dolphin, feeding them, welcoming them, loving them. The women
survived, and in this great fairy tale of the Bible, the same people who were
shocked and didn’t recognize Naomi in her grief later gave her a new name: “blessed
by God,” and named her grandchild “worshipper.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We
all need our dolphins, and you better believe Ruth needed Naomi just as much as
Naomi needed her. That’s what makes life worth living: having someone, anyone,
who needs our support. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now,
these past few weeks as I’ve preached on the values you chose for 2017 – compassion
& caring, faith and service – I’ve usually ended those sermons somewhere
along the lines of “now get out there and do something!” (We preachers don’t
have that many new tricks, after all.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But
not today. Today, I’m not going to tell you all the ways you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should be</i> supporting each other. I’m not
going to give you steps to cling to one another in times of sickness and
sorrow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today,
I simply want to say this, and for you to really hear it: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">you are so, so good at this. </b>Churches four times our size try to
create entire programs to replicate the sort of support our church organically
gives, and it’s not the same. By the grace of God, this is your greatest gift
as a church. You come to each other’s rescue. You cling to each other, like
flesh clings to bones, and you don’t let go. Not when a scary diagnosis comes.
Not when healing comes. Not when grief and sorrow come. Not when fear and
loneliness come. Not when change and uncertainty come. You never let go.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Support
isn’t just a value you put up on a white board at a meeting; support is who you
are, with your every breath. I want us to own that. Celebrate it. Be grateful
for this work of the Spirit among us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, let’s do that now: I invite you to turn to
a neighbor for just a couple of minutes and share a time you have been
supported by this church. Or if you prefer, you may also sit and quietly think to
yourself about when you felt supported here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A Time of
Sharing<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There
are plenty of ways to think about our church in terms of who we’re not, and if
we’re honest, it’s sometimes much easier to dwell on the negative and do that.
This year, I don’t want you to define yourself by who you’re not. I want you to
rejoice in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">who you are</b>: a family who
supports each other, clings to one another like skin to bones, and keeps each
other breathing even into life eternal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And
if someone ever asks you what Cameron Presbyterian Church is all about, just
make them curious and say: “With God’s help, we are each other’s
dolphins.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: 12.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> <span style="color: #262626; font-size: 8.0pt;">Delaney,
Frank. <i>Ireland: a novel</i>. New York: Harper, 2008.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-46418543371995521172017-02-19T14:48:00.002-08:002017-02-19T14:48:56.455-08:00Our Values: Service<span style="background-color: white; color: #2e0806; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">Cameron Presbyterian Church engaged in a value-forming exercise at our Annual Congregational Meeting, and determined four values that will guide us in 2017: compassion & caring, faith, serving and support. Each Sunday in February, I will focus on one of these values.</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIz0Y2-zOXywdR8NM2g0KCwsQhrkwbTRcHjKvAC3czQjnb2gwKGBBRJuB_VBJayJJp2ZsSKTOHHHheeanwr2_5Q9W1a-eCbgoIvMJU90SOuumT8itkZYMsHLdiLwNKX1xp8U9hbPze030/s1600/r.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIz0Y2-zOXywdR8NM2g0KCwsQhrkwbTRcHjKvAC3czQjnb2gwKGBBRJuB_VBJayJJp2ZsSKTOHHHheeanwr2_5Q9W1a-eCbgoIvMJU90SOuumT8itkZYMsHLdiLwNKX1xp8U9hbPze030/s1600/r.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s1.reutersmedia.net/resources/r/?m=02&d=20070516&t=2&i=809401&w=780&fh=&fw=&ll=&pl=&sq=&r=809401">Image Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">February 19, 2017</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matthew 20:20-34
<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>20</b>[Salome],
the mother of the sons of Zebedee [James and John], came to Jesus with her
sons, and kneeling before him, she asked a favor of him. <b>21 </b>And he said to
her, “What do you want?” She said to him, “Declare that these two sons of mine
will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” <b>22 </b>But Jesus
answered, “Y’all do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup
that I am about to drink?” They said to him, “We are able.” <b>23 </b>He said to them,
“You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this
is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my
Father.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>24 </b>When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers.
<b>25 </b>But Jesus called
them to him and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over
them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. <b>26 </b>It will not be
so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, <b>27 </b>and whoever
wishes to be first among you must be your slave; <b>28 </b>just as the Son
of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for
many.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>29 </b>As they were
leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed him. <b>30 </b>There were two blind men sitting
by the roadside. When they heard that Jesus was passing by, they shouted,
“Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” <b>31 </b>The crowd sternly ordered them to be
quiet; but they shouted even more loudly, “Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of
David!” <b>32 </b>Jesus stood
still and called them, saying, “What do you want me to do for you?” <b>33 </b>They said to
him, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” <b>34 </b>Moved with compassion, Jesus touched
their eyes. Immediately they regained their sight and followed him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sermon: “Our Values:
Service”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Sons
of thunder,” my boys were called by Jesus. That sounds about right. My eldest
was named James, his little brother was John. As sometimes brothers close in
age will do, they were always competing with one another. As children along the
Sea of Galilee, they’d see who could gather the most seashells, or who could
swim out the farthest (something I, their mother, was terrified by). Ah yes, I
haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? I am Salome, follower of Jesus, wife of
Zebedee, momma to those sons of thunder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As
they grew up, their sibling rivalry only became more intense. Instead of
seashells, they would fish for ten hours at a time in their father’s business,
and try to outdo each other with their catch. I tell you, it was exhausting
watching those sunburned teenagers painstakingly count out each fish to
determine who knew glory, and who knew defeat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
didn’t mind a bit of healthy competition, but I always tried to keep my boys
humble. This was especially important because of the sort of lifestyle we had:
while many families in Bethsaida struggled to put food on the table, we had a
thriving commercial fishing business. If you’ll forgive the indelicacy, I’ll
just say it: we were rich. We worked hard for it, but still, my boys were
afforded a social standing many kids didn’t get. I never wanted them to take
what they had for granted, or worse, become arrogant about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But
sometimes, their rivalry and privilege left them with a chip on their shoulder.
After they left the fishing business to follow Jesus, I saw incredible growth
in them. The humility and compassion of Jesus brought out those same qualities
in them, but every now and then, their old habits bubbled to the surface. When
once traveling with Jesus through Samaria to Jerusalem, we all sought a place
to stay for the night. But the villagers, being Samaritans, knowing we were
Jews, refused. I hated this sort of prejudice, but I knew you never fight
hatred with hatred. Before I could calm them down, my indignant boys (who were
not very used to sleeping rough) demanded that Jesus call down fire from heaven
on those inhospitable Samaritans. What a thing to say! I was so embarrassed.
Jesus just looked at them with the weariness of an exhausted father. “No way,”
he said. And onward we went to the next village without a word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But
from that day on, Jesus nicknamed by boys the “Sons of Thunder” for their short
fuses. It’s amusing to me how few people these days realize the incredible
sense of humor our Lord and Savior has.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People
also don’t realize that, as a mother, I rarely do things by accident. Matthew
painted me as a desperate momma trying to get her boys a little extra glory by
asking for James and John to sit at his right and left hands. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I don’t suppose he ever considered the fact
that this intelligent woman knew exactly what she was doing!</i> I knew what
Jesus would say to such a ridiculous request; I also knew it would teach my
boys the lesson they needed, which coming from Jesus instead of their own
momma, they might just take to heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see, I’d noticed that old
rivalry begin to creep up again, only my boys weren’t trying to outdo each
other in seashells or fish, but in praise from Jesus and respect from the other
disciples. They began to be a bit showy about their discipleship, and I knew
that this was a dangerous thing. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">When
your faith becomes a performance, your soul and the world suffers. </b>I knew,
like any mother does, that my boys had incredible potential; I also knew they
needed to get their egos out of the way to get there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I asked that question of
Jesus: will you give them the glory they seek? Jesus, though, isn’t just funny.
He’s also very smart. Rather than respond to me, he knew it was the boys who
needed the lesson, so he said to them and not me, “Y’all don’t know what you’re
asking.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He went on to talk about the
cup of his suffering, a cup he knew this discipleship life would require them
to drink of, too. What he said next, I’ll never forget: it was my favorite
sermon he ever preached, and I heard nearly all of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You know that
the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants
over them.</i><b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great
among you must be your servant,</i><b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave;</i><b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just as the Son
of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for
many.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
watched something dawn in my boys’ eyes, and I was so very proud. Suddenly,
life wasn’t about how many seashells they could gather, but about appreciating
the beauty in each tiny one. Life wasn’t about catching the most fish for the
glory, but about feeding as many people as they could. And life wasn’t about
getting greatness by the world’s standards of ego, power and competition, but
about showing greatness in serving the least of these.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Something
changed in my sons of thunder that day: they were somehow softened by Jesus’
words. Sure, they still had their storms, and went through terrible suffering
I, as their mother, can’t even speak about to you now. But they had a purpose,
a centering value, a calling. And that calling was to be a servant, no matter
the cost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now,
I know I’m not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i> mother, but you
can’t ever really take that mothering tendency away, and I feel like maybe you
need to hear that powerful sermon of Jesus, too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe
you’ve gotten too caught up in the rat race of power, ego and status, and made
your faith play by those same misguided rules.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or
quite the opposite, maybe you’ve felt you’re too insignificant to do anything
real or meaningful for Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe
you’re afraid of the cost of this servant discipleship on your comfortable way
of living.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or
maybe you’re just too tired, or too worried, or too jaded, or too sad to feel
like being a servant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let
me, momma Salome, encourage you: if my sons of thunder can be servants for Jesus,
so can you. I’ll give you a bit of (unrequested) motherly advice on how to
start:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First,
let go of who others think you are, or who you think you should be. You can
only be a servant if you’re exactly yourself, no more and no less than who God
made you to be. No one can serve in the way you can, and that’s a good thing!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Second,
when faced with prejudice, hatred and fear (like my boys and those Samaritans
who refused to take us in), breathe first. Then, breathe some more. Then, try
to see them as human beings, who are so very afraid. Then, try to pray for
them. Then, (and this really will take all you’ve got) try to love them. (This
isn’t the same thing as being a doormat.) Only after all of these steps can you
begin to create change in them and in you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Third,
pay very close attention to your motives for what you do. If, as a church,
you’re trying to attract younger people, or be present in your community, or
care for those who are suffering, be sure you have the right motives. Survival
and money are poor motives; status and publicity are, too. Even warm fuzzy feelings
can be. Our motive should always be sharing the love and grace of Jesus Christ
through serving all; and if it’s anything else, it’s time to listen to this
sermon of Jesus again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally,
just do something. You don’t need a vision statement to see the person on the
side of the road crying out for help. You don’t need extensive training to
reach out to someone with a different religious or cultural background from you
and invite them to meet you for pie. You don’t need perfected theological ideas
to share what Jesus and this community means to your life when someone asks you
why you go to this church. You just need to act, invite, listen and share. If
you trust Jesus to lead you, you have all the qualifications you need to serve.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And
remember, Jesus showed us what service really is, in case we forget (and we
will). It’s patiently putting my boys in line, and immediately after that,
having mercy on two blind men, because he practiced what he preached. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May
you know the greatness found in rejecting this world’s greatness.<br />
May you know the power found in lifting up the powerless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And
may you know the incredible joy found in living a life of service, for the
glory of God, and not your own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amen.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-16602125984789899382017-02-19T14:27:00.001-08:002017-02-19T14:27:09.477-08:00Our Values: Faith<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Indiana Jones' leap of faith)</span></div>
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<i style="color: #2e0806;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cameron Presbyterian Church engaged in a value-forming exercise at our Annual Congregational Meeting, and determined four values that will guide us in 2017: compassion & caring, faith, serving and support. Each Sunday in February, I will focus on one of these values.</span></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">February 12, 2017</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hebrews 11, Selected Verses<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now
faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. <b>2 </b>Indeed, by faith
our ancestors received approval. <b>3 </b>By faith we understand that the worlds
were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things
that are not visible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">8 </span></b>By faith Abraham
obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an
inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. <b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">9 </span></b>By faith he stayed for a time in
the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did
Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. <b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">10 </span></b>For he looked forward to the city
that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God. <b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">11 </span></b>By faith he received power of
procreation, even though he was too old—and Sarah herself was barren—because he
considered God faithful who had promised. <b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">12 </span></b>Therefore from one person, and this one as good as dead,
descendants were born, “as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable
grains of sand by the seashore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>29 </b>By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as if it were
dry land, but when the Egyptians attempted to do so they were drowned. <b>30 </b>By faith the
walls of Jericho fell after they had been encircled for seven days. <b>31 </b>By faith Rahab
the prostitute did not perish with those who were disobedient, because she had
received the spies in peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>32 </b>And what more
should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson,
Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets— <b>33 </b>who through
faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the
mouths of lions, <b>34 </b>quenched raging fire, escaped the edge of the sword, won
strength out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. <b>35 </b>Women received
their dead by resurrection. Others were tortured, refusing to accept release,
in order to obtain a better resurrection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet
all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was
promised, <b>40 </b>since God had
provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made
perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sermon: “Our Values: Faith”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hebrews
11, perhaps the greatest faith chapter in the Bible, rattles off many strong
examples of faith: Abel, Enoch, Abraham, Sarah, Rahab, Gideon, Barak,
Samson, Jephthah, David and Samuel. I’d like to add just one more to this list,
a person whose faith inspires me: Indy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s Indiana Jones, to be clear. (Just
go with me here.) One of the most beautiful examples of faith I’ve come across
is portrayed in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Let me set the scene for
you a bit: Indy is searching for the Holy Grail before the Nazis can get it (as
you do), but they arrive at the hidden place at the same time, and one of them
shoots his father (the fabulous Sean Connery). Now, Indy must find the grail
quickly, as it’s healing power is the only thing to save his persnickety dad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After making it through the requisite
booby traps, Indy must take what is called the “leap of faith.” He sees a wide
chasm before him, with rocky cliffs on each side and no visible way across. One
for whom faith never seems to come easily, he closes his eyes (perhaps in
prayer), takes a deep breath, and then opens them as he takes a step into the
void. And then he plummets downward, and the movie ends. No, he doesn’t! His
feet land on solid rock – a path across the chasm that wasn’t visible before. Astounded,
he walks across it, and then, as an afterthought, tosses a handful of sand
behind him to mark the way for his return.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What a beautiful definition for faith:
trusting God enough to step into the void, believing the path will become
clearer with each step, and then looking back on your journey, and marking the
path home, so you can find your way back again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So faith, we see, is not made with our
words or our quietly held belief systems. Faith is made in our actions; that
step into the unknown. James put it another way: faith without works is dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which is why all of these wonderful
heroes of our faith – Abraham, Sarah, Enoch, Abel, Noah, Gideon, Barak,
Sampson, Jephthah, David, Samuel and Rahab – are named in Hebrews 11. These
weren’t people who prayed one prayer to God and called it faith. These were
people whose faith was much, much bigger than that; it led them to do
incredible things:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Giving of themselves for God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pleasing God, not through perfection,
but through trust.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Building a boat to remind the human race
that grace is real.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Setting out on an unknown journey to an
unknown place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Having a family very late in the game,
in order to bless every family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Standing up to a violent ruler’s edict
with a simple basket in a river.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Passing through the waters and not being
overcome by them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Receiving the enemy in peace and
breaking the power of violence, to save your household.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so many others: conquering kingdoms,
administering justice, obtaining promises, shutting the mouths of lions,
quenching raging fire, winning strength out of weakness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each of these faithful teach us that
faith is not a cozy feeling, or a political pawn, or a source of showy pride,
or a golden get-out-of-hell-free card. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Faith
is the gift from God that leads us to courageous action.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, when we say that faith is a value of
our church, we can only truly mean that when we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do something</i>. Take that step into the unknown. Trust that God knows
the way when we don’t. And then, look back on our life together and scatter
holy sand to remind us of how far we’ve journeyed with our Creator. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When was the last time we did something
really, truly courageous for God? That’s the key question our faith should prod
us to ask over and over again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do we believe Jesus Christ is the Son of
God, come down to earth to redeem us all? If so, then how have we acted as
kinsman-redeemer to someone in need, showing that we believe God’s grace is
made real in our incarnate compassion to the wanderer?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do we believe we are created in God’s
image and named very good in God’s sight? If so, then how have we practiced
relentless goodness towards others in the face of political vitriol and
heightened tension?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 58.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do we believe the Holy Spirit dwells
within us, nudging our feet onto unknown paths, and trust there is a way
forward? If so, then how have we committed time every day to praying,
discerning and listening to that Spirit’s call on our life and our church?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do we believe the Bible is God’s living
word to us, meant to lead us to deeper understanding of our God, this world and
ourselves? If so, how have we lifted these words off this page and put them
into practice in our own community?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do
we believe, like Rahab did, that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the Lord
our God is indeed God in heaven above <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">and</b>
on earth below</i>? If so, then how are we partnering with God in bringing
salvation to this messy earth, caring for its creatures and environment and
seeing God’s hand in all of it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Faith
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though perhaps that is a first step. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Faith
is doing something about that belief.</b> May we have the courage of Abel to
show suffering never wins in the end; of Enoch to please God; of Noah to
survive when the world feels like it’s ending; of Abraham to entertain the
possibility that God might surprise us; of Moses’ mother to defy violence with
wild hope; of a wandering people to believe there is such a thing as a promised
land; of Rahab to refuse to play by the rules of age-old conflict and hatred;
and may we have the courage of Indiana Jones to take a step even when we’re not
sure we believe there is a way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks
be to the God who gives us the gift of faith, to the Redeemer who placed faith
in us complicated human beings, and still does, and to the Spirit who nudges us
forward with a holy mixture of relentless trust and reckless hope. Amen.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-27343597128912174532017-02-05T10:41:00.001-08:002017-02-05T10:41:07.686-08:00Our Values: Compassion and Caring<i>Cameron Presbyterian Church engaged in a value-forming exercise at our Annual Congregational Meeting, and determined four values that will guide us in 2017: compassion & caring, faith, serving and support. Each Sunday in February, I will focus on one of these values.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhib2Ztd1hQaplyWkDjgyq2-F-pC4ct82tPztUdUxG1p7Pbt7j-m7OEhjY5vYTO8NDmxuVsKKHAgsntEqRBuIgd7-k-0DMr5IhL4tO7DWVK9wGmjXkDGA9_WZHqbFibSdNoqK4U-WbM5jo/s1600/5514488e677dd633203254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhib2Ztd1hQaplyWkDjgyq2-F-pC4ct82tPztUdUxG1p7Pbt7j-m7OEhjY5vYTO8NDmxuVsKKHAgsntEqRBuIgd7-k-0DMr5IhL4tO7DWVK9wGmjXkDGA9_WZHqbFibSdNoqK4U-WbM5jo/s640/5514488e677dd633203254.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://curious.kcrw.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/hands.jpg">Image Source</a></td></tr>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sunday, February 5, 2017 </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matthew
9:27-38<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>27 </b>As Jesus went on from there, two blind men followed him,
crying loudly, “Have mercy on us, Son of David!” <b>28 </b>When he entered
the house, the blind men came to him; and Jesus said to them, “Do you believe
that I am able to do this?” They said to him, “Yes, Lord.” <b>29 </b>Then he touched
their eyes and said, “According to your faith let it be done to you.” <b>30 </b>And their eyes
were opened. Then Jesus sternly ordered them, “See that no one knows of this.” <b>31 </b>But they went
away and spread the news about him throughout that district.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>32 </b>After they had gone away, a demoniac who was mute was brought
to him. <b>33 </b>And when the
demon had been cast out, the one who had been mute spoke; and the crowds were
amazed and said, “Never has anything like this been seen in Israel.” <b>34 </b>But the
Pharisees said, “By the ruler of the demons he casts out the demons.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>35 </b>Then Jesus went
about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and
proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every
sickness. <b>36 </b>When he saw the
crowds, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">he had compassion</b> for them,
because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. <b>37 </b>Then he said to
his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; <b>38 </b>therefore ask
the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sermon: </b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“</b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Our Values:
Compassion and Caring”</b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a reason I like to
write my sermons in coffee shops. (And no, it’s not just because of my affinity
for that glorious gift of God that is coffee.) I write in public because it
forces me to engage the biblical text with what’s happening around me. Rather
than in the quiet solitude of my office, I find that I’m interrupted by people
walking by, drinking, talking, laughing, crying even. It challenges me to engage
the Word of God with the world around me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so, just as I was beginning
to get into the rhythms of this here sermon, God decided to interrupt me with
that world. A woman who worked as a volunteer at the little charity bookstore connected
to the coffee shop I was in came over to me, having seen me meeting with her
pastor earlier. Her name is Marge. Marge wanted to tell me her faith story. To
be honest, what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> wanted was to get
this sermon written. A little internal struggle began, we all know it well, where
I could nod along and pretend to listen, all the while thinking about what
words might fill this page, or I could choose to really look at her, and
actually listen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m so glad the Spirit nudged
me to choose rightly. Marge told me that she wound up at my friend’s Presbyterian
church after a long time without church. She was raised Catholic, but then she
got a divorce. She was allowed to come to mass, but couldn’t take communion.
So, she eventually left, and had what she described as “a long time of
wandering.” Then, Marge found a place where her faith was nurtured and she felt
supported. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the span of 5 minutes, I
actually learned a lot about Marge: that she’s reading a book I love (called
Ireland, of course), that her son was born on St. Patrick’s Day, and that, as
much as she loves books, she always puts people first, and welcomes
conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think God brought me Marge
to interrupt my tedious Greek study of the word “compassion” used in this
chapter of Matthew and remember that, while that word study matters, it matters
more than I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">practice compassion</i>, even
if it interrupts my best-laid sermon writing plans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jesus welcomed these sorts of
interruptions, better than any of us ever could. He would be walking along, after
endlessly doing his Messiah thing, trying his best to get a little “me” time,
but it never worked. Crowds followed him<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
everywhere</i>. No matter how many times he told the newly-healed to keep it
quiet, word of his compassion got out. Compassion is like that; it can’t be
shushed or forgotten. It’s contagious, in the best possible way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jesus had healed so many
according to Matthew: a leper, a demoniac, a whole household, a paralytic, but
it was never enough. There was always one more. And Jesus, no matter how tired,
no matter how desperate he was for some alone time, always made time for that
one more. This is what was meant when Matthew said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When Jesus saw
the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and
helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jesus
didn’t think first of his own inconvenience and weariness, but instead he
focused on their feelings of harassment and helplessness. That is as good a
definition of caring as any: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">putting the
helplessness of another before our own.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That
helplessness comes in many forms: certainly Jesus’ compassion for people was
nearly always moved by illness, and the helplessness those suffering and those
who suffered with them felt. He also saw helplessness in a hungry crowd, and
like a tutting grandmother worried they would faint on their way home, and so
fed them with more food than anyone could possibly eat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We
see helplessness in our day in illness and in hunger. We also see it in
loneliness, or the desire for human connection, even if just for 5 minutes in a
coffee shop. We see it in those who feel the world is changing too much for
their liking, and we see it in those who long for it to change more. We see it
in those whose faith has inexplicably left them, or who have been burned by the
bitter experience of an uncaring congregation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When
Jesus spoke of the harvest being plentiful, and the laborers few, he wasn’t
urging those uncertain disciples to militantly proselytize with hellfire and
damnation. He was telling them to do what he had been doing all along: to see
the helpless people, that one more, and have compassion on them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If
we say that a value of our church is to be caring and compassionate, this is
our starting place. The harvest is indeed plentiful: you need only spend time
in a hospital waiting room, or a struggling Cameron antique store, or a lonely
living room, or a weary child pick up line at the elementary school, to see
that. So many people feel helpless, even within our own walls. We can keep our
heads down, focused on the next item on our to-do list, prizing productivity
above all else, or we can stop. Look up. Look around. Look another human being
in the eye and see Christ looking back at us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being
a people who value compassion and caring really is that simple: we choose not
to get so caught up in our stuff that we don’t see people longing to be
noticed. We choose to be honest with each other about our own helplessness, and
let this faith community show care to us. We choose to be laborers in Christ’s
harvest of compassion, even if this means it interrupts our carefully laid
plans, in order to find that one more person in need of hope. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Think for a
moment about the last time you felt really, truly cared for.</i> What made you
feel that way? I’m betting it wasn’t someone buying you something expensive.
I’m betting it wasn’t someone validating your opinion as better than another’s.
I’m betting it wasn’t someone looking through you but not really listening, or
someone impatiently demanding a bunch of confusing information from you. I’m
betting it wasn’t someone telling you to trust God without being honest about
how hard that is sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m
betting it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> someone looking you in
the eye, and smiling. I’m betting it was someone who heard you’re automatic
“I’m fine” answer, but then gently nudged, “but how are you, really?” I’m
betting it was someone getting you a cold glass of water before you could get
it for yourself, or asking you how they could be praying for you (and you knowing
they will).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This
labor of compassion isn’t complicated: it’s making each other feel valued and
important and heard. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Don’t we have time
to do that?</b> The laborers are few, not because people don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>to care, but because they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think they don’t have time</i>. We always
have time, friends. Let the dishes pile up. Let the grass get a little long. Let
the to-do list be forgotten for a day. Let the lunch take longer than you have
scheduled. (Let the sermon be mediocre!) But don’t ever let that one more
person feel forgotten or alone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks
be to the Caring Creator, the Ever-Compassionate Christ, and the Interrupting
Spirit, helping us see and care for that one more person, amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-50509494888962086542017-01-29T13:57:00.000-08:002017-01-29T13:57:08.055-08:00The Controversy of Memory<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimW4r6fJWFDY51RKPlmvfmUn2Bqoeo4vas0A-SHOMoqOF0Z4YCBHrla6llYWXkKzj8oWtzRLR2GcZmwne47PC_0GF-w3sPyL2DW3uvHAAVUEDOoWon0Iznf7WUM81Lx-C3yeZ_FVqWaEM/s1600/5963400_orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimW4r6fJWFDY51RKPlmvfmUn2Bqoeo4vas0A-SHOMoqOF0Z4YCBHrla6llYWXkKzj8oWtzRLR2GcZmwne47PC_0GF-w3sPyL2DW3uvHAAVUEDOoWon0Iznf7WUM81Lx-C3yeZ_FVqWaEM/s640/5963400_orig.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fbfdfd; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Passengers aboard the "St. Louis." These refugees from Nazi Germany were forced to return to Europe after both Cuba and the US denied them refuge. 25% of them later died in concentration camps.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">January 29, 2017</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Micah 6:1-8<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>1</sup> Hear what the LORD says: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rise,
plead your case before the mountains, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
let the hills hear your voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>2</sup> Hear, you mountains, the controversy
of the LORD, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
you enduring foundations of the earth; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> for the LORD has a controversy
with his people, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
he will contend with Israel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>3</sup> “O my people, what have I done to you?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> In
what have I wearied you? Answer me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>4</sup> For I brought you up from the land of
Egypt, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
redeemed you from the house of slavery; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and I sent before you Moses, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Aaron,
and Miriam. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>5</sup> O my people, remember now what King
Balak of Moab devised, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> what
Balaam son of Beor answered him, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and what happened from Shittim to
Gilgal, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> that
you may know the saving acts of the LORD.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>6</sup> “With what shall I come before the LORD, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
bow myself before God on high? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Shall I come before him with burnt
offerings, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> with
calves a year old? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>7</sup> Will the LORD be pleased with
thousands of rams, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> with
ten thousands of rivers of oil? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Shall I give my firstborn for my
transgression, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> the
fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>8</sup> He has told you, O mortal, what is
good; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
what does the LORD require of you <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> but to do justice, and to love
kindness, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
to walk humbly with your God?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sermon: The Controversy of
Memory<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Without memory, our
existence would be barren and opaque, like a prison cell into which no light
penetrates; like a tomb which rejects the living. If anything can, it is memory
that will save humanity.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Elie Weisel, Holocaust survivor and writer, spoke these words in
his Nobel prize acceptance speech in Oslo in 1986. This person whose horrific
memories you’d think he would want to forget, reminds us that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">remembering </b>is essential to salvation,
even if those memories are terrible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’s interesting how those who have suffered the most terrible
harm are fixated by memory. Miroslav Volf, a theologian whose father was
tortured for his peaceful Christian beliefs in Yugoslavia, has written a great
deal about memory. He echoes Wiesel’s idea that memory is linked to salvation,
and goes one to say that it’s not enough just to remember our history. We have
to remember it rightly, thoughtfully, without malice or re-victimization. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hear,
you mountains, the controversy of the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">LORD:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“O
my people, what have I done to you? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> In
what have I wearied you? Answer me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For I brought you up from the land of Egypt, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
redeemed you from the house of slavery; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> and I sent before you Moses, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Aaron,
and Miriam. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> O
my people,<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> remember</b>…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>remember</b> now what King Balak of Moab devised,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> what Balaam son of Beor
answered him,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> and
what happened from Shittim to Gilgal, <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> that
you may know the saving acts of the LORD.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This
well-known passage of Micah is all about remembering. Though we like to say the
last half-verse of it, that part about what God wants us to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">do</b> (namely justice, love kindness, walk
humbly with God), we can’t get there without first remembering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There
is no justice without memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There
is no kindness without memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There
is no humility with our God without memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And
what was it they were to remember exactly? A couple of strange naming places:
Shittim and Gilgal, and a couple of fellas named Balaam and Balak. What
memories lived for these Jewish folk in those names? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Shittim
is, most obviously, the place where they crossed the Jordan to enter the
Promised Land. It was their last campsite before knowing home. But it had a
much more negative side: Shittim was where the people of Israel committed
idolatry through Balaam’s trickery. He “instructed Balak to put a stumbling block before
the people of Israel so they would eat food sacrificed to idols.”<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[1]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> The
result was the death of 24,000 people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gilgal
doesn’t exactly conjure up warm-fuzzy memories, either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, this was were the wandering people of
Israel ceased their wandering, and celebrated their first Passover in a settled
land, where they ate the produce of that land instead of the manna of the
sojourner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And
yet, even that place had a darker history to it: the prophets warn against it
strongly. Amos and Hosea both name Gilgal as the capital of great evil and
idolatry. Ultimately, it was a place of failure for those people who longed to
find home: “failure to consolidate the
conquest; failure of the monarchy; and more specifically the failure of the
northern political program.”<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[2]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So why is God insisting
that the prophet Micah, whose name means “who is like the LORD” and who was a
laborer from small-town Moresheth-gath twenty-five miles from busting
Jerusalem, urge these people to remember such painful things? Why not just
leave it at redemption from slavery, and Moses and Aaron and Miriam? Why did
God have to bring up all those uncomfortable places and people associated with
deception, idolatry and death? Why would anyone want to remember such things?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It seems time to bring back
Elie’s wise words: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“It is memory that will
save humanity.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">God wants
them to remember, especially the painful parts of their history, so they will
be saved from repeating them. Because these now-settled people are getting
rather complacent with their political and religious corruption, letting
priests, prophets and judges oppress the poor. Micah, that country boy,
especially pointed out when farmers’ land was being taken by the rich.
Injustice reigned, especially among the so-called religious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Micah’s
message was clear: worship without justice is meaningless. God doesn’t want thousands
of rams, ten thousands of rivers of oil, or, heaven forbid, a firstborn child
offered. God wants what God has wanted since the day Adam and Eve decided to
snack on self-indulgence and power: for people to do justice, to love kindness
and to walk humbly with their Creator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Remembering
was the first step on that path, because sometimes the only way forward is to
look backwards. There’s a reason that Micah described this whole prophetic rant
as a “controversy” between God and these chosen people. There’s nothing more
controversial than memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What
we choose to remember, how we remember, and why we remember has everything to
do with how we understand the world and our faith. No two people remember the
same way, and that leads to contention and controversy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I
witnessed this most acutely in the summer of 2005. I led a group of Protestant
and Catholic teenagers from Belfast, Northern Ireland to South Africa to build
peace between them, a peace that was deeply rooted in remembering rightly. One
day, we gave each teenager a lump of clay. Tell us your story, we said. No
other guidance was given.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The
first teen did something innocuous enough. Not the second: he angrily mashed
his clay into a stone. “This represents a stone like what was thrown at us on
Bloody Sunday by the Brits – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no offense
to you Prods –</i> when we were peacefully marching and got suddenly attacked
and killed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You
can imagine the reaction that got! Teenagers began shouting at each other over
who acted first on that terrible, violent day in Derry in 1972. Blame was cast,
inherited anger bubbled up, and we leaders feared our year-long peacebuilding
efforts were crumbling before our eyes. They weren’t, of course. The Spirit is
made of stouter stuff than a lump of clay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But
here’s the thing: none of these kids were alive in 1972. These weren’t even
their memories, they had been handed down to them, distilled with greater blame
and hatred with each telling. There was no way for these young people to do
justice, or to love kindness or to walk with humility without facing these
bitter memories. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And
they did face them, with incredible courage. It was very painful, but
eventually their anger coalesced into one shared voice, angry at only being
told half-truths and biased histories. They found their way to reconciliation,
to salvation, and that path was paved with memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How,
I wonder, do we remember? What is our Shittim, and our Gilgal? Those complicated
parts of our history we struggle to understand still?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We
might call it Miami in June of 1939, when 937 mostly Jewish passengers on the
St. Louis ocean liner were turned away, sent back to Europe, resulting in more
than a quarter of them dying in the Holocaust. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We
might call it the horror of Pearl Harbor in 1941, and we might call it the
racist internment camps that followed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We
might call it Memphis in 1968, when hatred tried to kill a movement by killing
a man, and failed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We
might call it New York City in 2001, when something broke in our national sense
of security, and we’ve never quite recovered it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And
in our own church and family histories, we all have a Shittim, and a Gilgal,
places where God is calling us to go, to remember, even if painfully, to find
what gives existence meaning, and what God uses to save this world, again and
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do
we want to do justice?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do
we want to love kindness?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do
we want to walk humbly with our God?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .15in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: .15in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then
we have to remember, that the saving works of God for all people might not just
be dusty pages on an old history book, but realities we partner with God in
creating, every single day. Amen.<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> <span style="font-size: 8.0pt;">Numbers 25:14<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Hutton, Rodney R. "What Happened From Shittim To
Gilgal? Law And Gospel In Micah 6:5." <i>Currents In Theology And Mission</i>
26.2 (1999): 94-103. <i>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</i>. Web. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-37488219527271282312017-01-22T10:00:00.000-08:002017-01-22T10:00:07.192-08:00Undivided Attention<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><b> </b><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XXgYyfUKtWmXrp7zgUj33cgiXFhYXrDe2YxOUfPvEKzrAdFibw_FtsYtvWvTfMqEzAhOkba2UITgQMT3KOoFQ1CHOmZ7bKO2bev5wcpdRgww04CRRWny6Hej7KoA2Y9-jDUb55VtjEs/s1600/0a5ccc2fb4ec63384d68af69860001b0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XXgYyfUKtWmXrp7zgUj33cgiXFhYXrDe2YxOUfPvEKzrAdFibw_FtsYtvWvTfMqEzAhOkba2UITgQMT3KOoFQ1CHOmZ7bKO2bev5wcpdRgww04CRRWny6Hej7KoA2Y9-jDUb55VtjEs/s640/0a5ccc2fb4ec63384d68af69860001b0.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/0a/5c/cc/0a5ccc2fb4ec63384d68af69860001b0.jpg">Image Source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">January 22, 2016</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">New Testament Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b>10 </b>Now I appeal to you, brothers and
sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement
and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same
mind and the same purpose. <b>11 </b>For it has been reported to me by
Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters. <b>12 </b>What
I mean is that each of you says, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,”
or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” <b>13 </b>Has Christ
been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of
Paul? <b>14 </b>I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and
Gaius, <b>15 </b>so that no one can say that you were baptized in my name.
<b>16 </b>(I did baptize also the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I
do not know whether I baptized anyone else.) <b>17 </b>For Christ did not
send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so
that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power. <b>18 </b>For
the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to
us who are being saved it is the power of God.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sermon: “Undivided Attention”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>The forest was my home. I lived there, and I cared about it. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>I tried to keep it neat and clean.</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>Then one sunny day, while I was cleaning up some garbage a
camper had left behind, I heard footsteps. I leapt behind a tree and saw a
little girl coming down the trail carrying a basket. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was suspicious of this little girl right
away because she was dressed funny — all in red, and her head covered up as if
she did not want people to know who she was.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>Naturally, I stopped to check her out. I asked who she was,
where she was going, where she had come from, and all that. She gave me a song
and dance about going to her grandmother’s house with a basket of lunch. She
appeared to be a basically honest person, but she was in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">my</b> forest, and she certainly looked suspicious with that strange
getup of hers. So I decided to teach her just how serious it is to prance
through the forest unannounced and dressed funny.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>I let her go on her way, but I ran ahead of her to grandmother’s
house. When I saw that nice old woman, I explained my problem and she agreed
that her granddaughter needed to learn a lesson all right. The old woman agreed
to stay out of sight until I called her. Actually, she hid under the bed.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>When the girl arrived, I invited her into the bedroom where I
was in bed, dressed like the grandmother. The girl came in all rosy-cheeked and
said something nasty about my big ears. I’ve been insulted before so I made the
best of it by suggesting that my big ears would help me to hear better. Now,
what I meant was that I liked her and wanted to pay close attention to what she
was saying. But she made another insulting crack about my bulging eyes. Now you
can see how I was beginning to feel about this girl who put on such a nice
front, but was apparently a very nasty person. Still, I’ve made it a policy to
turn the other cheek, so I told her that my big eyes helped me to see her
better.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>Her next insult really got to me. I’ve got this problem with
having big teeth, and that little girl made an insulting crack about them. I
know that I should have had better control, but I leaped up from that bed and
growled that my teeth would help me to eat her better.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i>Now let’s face it — no wolf could ever eat a little girl —
everyone knows that — but that crazy girl started running around the house
screaming — me chasing her to calm her down. I’d taken off the grandmother’s
clothes, but that only seemed to make it worse. All of a sudden the door came
crashing open, and a big lumberjack is standing there with his axe. I looked at
him, and it became very clear that I was in trouble. There was an open window
behind me and out I went.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I’d like to say that was the end of it. But that Grandmother
character never did tell my side of the story. Before long the word got around
that I was a mean, nasty guy. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>Everybody started avoiding me. I don’t know about that little
girl with the funny red outfit, but I didn’t live happily ever after.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Maligned Wolf”<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>by Lief Fearn retells the old tale of Little Red Riding Hood in
the most imaginative way, showing how misunderstanding after misunderstanding,
and snap judgment after snap judgment, escalated conflict.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a great illustration of our human
tendency towards defensiveness, the quickness with which we perceive slight or
insult, and retaliate and how quickly we categorize the world into “us” and
“them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The church, as you well know, has never been immune
to the divisions and conflicts that plague society, and sometimes it seems the
deeply held convictions of faith and theology lead to even greater conflict in
congregations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I suppose there’s comfort found in the solidarity
of knowing the church as an institution of flawed human beings has never been
perfect. This letter to the church in Corinth is a textbook example. What we
have here is conflict rooted in religious rivalry for power and control of that
small congregation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Several divided groups are mentioned here as
witnessed by those described as “Chloe’s people.” Chloe was probably a
Christian woman of great social standing, and her “people” might have been
members of her household or business associates. (I think it’s safe to assume
they discovered all this church discord while chatting in their parking lot.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The first group they name are those who claim, “I
belong to Paul,” which is clear enough. Then there are those who “belong to
Apollos,” who was a popular Christian who spent time in Corinth according to
the book of Acts. Then we have those who “belong to Cephas” (the Aramaic name
for Peter) and finally, those who belong to Christ. An exasperated Paul
responds to this news of faith factioning by asking a question for which the
answer should be very obvious<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">: “Has
Christ been divided?”</b> Though the nature of religious rivalry may change
with different circumstances, theologies and power plays, the answer to that
question does not change: no. No, Christ has not been divided.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But goodness, we human beings, especially we Christians,
have. It all goes back to the tendency we learned from the so-called Big Bad
Wolf at the start of this sermon. When we don’t understand someone, how they
look, what they say, how they carry themselves, we have a choice, every single
time.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">That choice is between curiosity or suspicion.</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We can be curious about the “other,” even if that
other is someone in the pew next to us with different theological or political
leanings than our own. Forget the old adage about the cat, curiosity is holy:
it will lead us to ask, to grow, to adjust, to learn. The goal is not to agree
with each other through some superficial watering down of who we are; the goal
is to understand and value each other, not despite of, <i>but because of</i>,
our differences.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Suspicion, however, will lead us down a very
different path. If we choose to be suspicious of the “other,” then we will
color our understanding of them, not by asking questions, not by learning of <i>their</i>
reality, but like that wolf in our story, by assuming we know who they are,
what they think, and what they believe, based entirely on <i>our</i> own
limited experience. This path is not a holy one, but the path towards
intolerance, defensiveness, and finally, if left unchecked, fear, hatred,
bigotry and violence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do not grow on
this path as a church. Like that wolf threatened with the angry ax, instead, we
face death. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And so this essential choice between engaging
people who differ from us – both within and without these walls – with either
curiosity or suspicion is a choice between life and death. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The survival of the church, not just our church but the church
universal, depends on us choosing the path of curiosity.</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s the path Peter, Andrew, James and John took
when they left their responsible career paths for the risky adventure Jesus
offered them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the path Linda, Jane,
Shan and Kathy take today when they follow Jesus on the adventure of leadership
in our church as elders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the path
of the cross, where the foolishness of “us” and “them” is defeated in
sacrificial love and irresistible grace. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have a choice, every time we encounter someone
different from us, whether that difference be rooted in age, gender, ethnicity,
religion, economics, politics, or even personality. We can choose <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">suspicion</b>, and give way to our basest
instincts of defensiveness and conflict. Or we can choose <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">curiosity</b>, rising to Jesus’ holy path of peace, and see the “other”
not as a threat but as a blessing in disguise, maybe even if they’re wearing a
little red riding hood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen. </div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-24881756805067241442017-01-15T10:18:00.003-08:002017-01-15T10:19:25.655-08:00The Servant Song<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiCKTkIJUWJYfupkmchQ7NjVflwzGY8AjyOTvCavhGN2Spr_CUQmInN9w5Cmehm6ZQvtZDgmoNerXGt3dZ4qh0HTBJniWwGGvMpJ7sLdjPqhDfalTEKF60ovNBgrB7UIB0fIxFCCqoxg/s1600/openhearts16_orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiCKTkIJUWJYfupkmchQ7NjVflwzGY8AjyOTvCavhGN2Spr_CUQmInN9w5Cmehm6ZQvtZDgmoNerXGt3dZ4qh0HTBJniWwGGvMpJ7sLdjPqhDfalTEKF60ovNBgrB7UIB0fIxFCCqoxg/s400/openhearts16_orig.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mystery of Faith" by Tom McGee</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">January 15, 2017</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Isaiah 42:1-9 <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>1</sup> Here is
my servant, whom I uphold,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> my
chosen, in whom my soul delights; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I
have put my spirit upon her; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> she
will bring forth justice to the nations. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>2</sup> He will
not cry or lift up his voice, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> or
make it heard in the street; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>3</sup> a
bruised reed he will not break, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> and
a dimly burning wick he will not quench; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> he
will faithfully bring forth justice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>4</sup> She
will not grow faint or be crushed <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> until
she has established justice in the earth; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> and
the coastlands wait for her teaching.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>5</sup>Thus says God, the LORD, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> who
created the heavens and stretched them out, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> who
spread out the earth and what comes from it, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> who
gives breath to the people upon it <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> and
spirit to those who walk in it: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>6</sup> I am
the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I
have taken you by the hand and kept you; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I
have given you as a covenant to the people, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> a
light to the nations, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>7</sup> to
open the eyes that are blind, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> to
bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> from
the prison those who sit in darkness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>8</sup> I am
the LORD, that is my name; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> my
glory I give to no other, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> nor
my praise to idols. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><sup>9</sup> See,
the former things have come to pass, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> and
new things I now declare; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> before
they spring forth, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I
tell you of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sermon: “The Servant Song”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I reckon poets are either the
most mad among us, or the only ones sane enough to say the truth as it really
is. You can give a dozen poets each an apple and ask them what color it is, and
you’ll get a dozen different variations: everything from crimson to cerise to
scarlet; the most dramatic among them saying it’s the color of an autumn dusk,
or of a child’s cheeks in the snow. Poetry can be maddening in its obscurity,
but sometimes, a poem is the only thing to bring sanity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I say this because it took a
poet-prophet, whose poetry we now read in Isaiah chapter 42, to bring words of sanity
to an insane time of tit-for-tat, of victory and defeat and glory and despair. Let
me set the scene for the day that poet first said these words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The place was Babylon; the
time, well over 2,500 years ago. Babylon was a nice enough place to be if you
followed the god Marduk, whose statue was brought down from his mountain of
honor and paraded through the city with fanfare each year. But it wasn’t so
nice if you were an exile from Judah, the most educated among your people, now
found to be the lowest of the low, not even allowed to worship your God, living
in a ghetto and raising children who’d never even been to your homeland. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The most exciting event of
that time was when Cyrus, the king of Persia, marched into the city of Babylon,
overthrew the tyrannical reign of <span style="color: #262626;">Nabonidus with a single stroke, and
announced that those exiles from Judah were finally allowed to return home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Even the poet who spoke these words of Isaiah got caught up in
the excitement, and praised Cyrus as a messiah figure. But then, in that way of
poetry, he changed his tune. He began to wax poetic, not about Cyrus the great
conquering hero, but about someone else, known only as “the servant.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This servant song spoke of someone who could not have been more
opposite of Cyrus, more different than a mighty hero. This servant of the God
of Judah and Israel did not march into cities and overthrow mighty armies with
a single stroke. No, this servant didn’t even break a fragile, bent reed. They did
not burn the opposition with unstoppable fire. No, this servant didn’t even
blow out the whisper of a single waning candle flame. This servant did not
demand attention and glory, but instead refused to even raise her or his voice.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just when those folks in Babylon were rallying around the great
and victorious Cyrus, this poet, as poets often do, showed them how little of
the world they actually understood. Cyruses would come and go; political coups
would happen again and again; crowds would be whipped into a frenzy following
whoever seemed to be the savior of the day. And the world would remain mostly
unchanged in its constant cycle of power, glory and might. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This servant the poet described was not of this world, though
she or he was very much a part of it. No, this servant recognized a greater
reality, beyond the political power plays and the game of thrones. </span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We call
that reality God.</span></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">God was and is the main agent in this servant song of the poet.
Did you notice how God’s character and actions were referred to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">20</b> times in only 9 verses? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Reorienting the people away from a lesser worldly power and
towards the power of God, the poet brought the spiritual sanity that was most
needed among the madness of people thinking that one human being (Cyrus) was
all-powerful. Again and again, he drummed into their unhearing ears the deeds
of this God. </span>Choosing.
Upholding. Delighting. Creating. Spreading. Breathing. Giving breath. Calling.
Taking people by the hand. Giving people as a covenant. Declaring new things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This
God is concerned with so much more than the particular dealings of any one city
or country, and yet this God chooses to be in special covenantal relationship
with an exiled, homesick people. This God is the source of salvation, not
whatever political figure might be elevated to power at any given time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But
this all-powerful God, who very well could do the unimaginable work of holding
the universe together alone, chooses to get help. And that help comes as one of
the invisible ones, the very opposite of the proud and powerful: a servant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just
as the poet made clear God’s work, so he then made clear the servant’s:
Bringing forth justice. Not crying out. Not breaking or harming anything, not
even a fragile reed, or a single candle flame. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No growing faint or being broken by the
world’s brokenness. Again, establishing justice. Teaching. Being a gift to all
people, a light to open blind eyes, and a liberator for prisoners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If
there is no God, there is no servant, for the two’s missions are inextricably
woven together. And that is the biggest difference between this servant and any
other sort of hero figure. This servant doesn’t do these things for the glory
or the fame or the power, or even just because it’s the right thing to do. This
servant does the good, gentle work of justice because she or he believes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s who God is.</i><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The
essential lesson that poet was trying to get those us weary souls desperate for
celebration to understand was this: <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">it’s
not about you.</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>It’s not about me, either. Life, suffering, death, worry,
victory, joy, hope and fear will consume and pull us in a million directions if
we think we are the point of it all. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">We
aren’t. God is.</b> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What a relief this is,
friends!</i>
If we really believe God is who the poet says God is: the main agent, the main
actor in this experiment we call life, then everything else is put into its
proper perspective. The salvation of the world is not ours to achieve or argue;
it is our gracious God’s. The sorrows of the world are not ours alone to
endure; God dwells in the midst of them. The successes of the world do not make
one mighty in the eyes of God, but servanthood does. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I
think if we could invite the mad poet prophet who spoke these words in Isaiah
here today, he would have a similar word for us. I think he would ask us an
essential question, one we should never answer lightly or impulsively. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Do you believe there is a God?</b>”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And
then, I imagine he would say to us, with those piercing poet eyes looking into
our very souls: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“If the answer is yes, then why do you live as if
you don’t? Relax, friends. Relax. God is God. Still choosing. Still upholding.
Still delighting. Still creating. Still spreading, and breathing, and giving
breath, and calling. Still taking people by the hand. Still giving people as a
covenant to each other, and still declaring new things.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If
this is who God is, then why do you, I, we feel powerless sometimes? There’s
much servant work to do in partnership with this God and each other. We don’t
have to shout and set the world on fire to prove it’s all up to us. We simply
have to do the quiet, tireless work of justice that God has been doing since
the foundations of the world, until no one is exiled or imprisoned, and power
is shown in being a servant of all, modeled after our Lord Jesus Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Do
we believe in God? If the answer is yes, then what are we going to do about it?
Amen.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-69117178507767117492016-12-26T07:58:00.000-08:002016-12-26T08:01:55.591-08:00The Rest of the Story<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dY26XlppR189AM3CIXW-zbswbP2SSgQbl8rIlgE5EalU-thIq6dlRw42XUb7mc3H_aSqyCUMML1sndvuY55C1Dtmz7pqo1X3iJZiq1zLSfvoRQ4ToCJgAv12ml3n1jARuIFpCQO_U6w/s1600/6190_1660266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dY26XlppR189AM3CIXW-zbswbP2SSgQbl8rIlgE5EalU-thIq6dlRw42XUb7mc3H_aSqyCUMML1sndvuY55C1Dtmz7pqo1X3iJZiq1zLSfvoRQ4ToCJgAv12ml3n1jARuIFpCQO_U6w/s640/6190_1660266.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Flight Into Egypt by <span style="line-height: inherit; text-align: start;">Jean François Millet</span>, 1864.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Christmas Eve </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Luke 1:18-2:15<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>18 </b>Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.
When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived
together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. <b>19 </b>Her husband
Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace,
planned to dismiss her quietly. <b>20 </b>But just when he had resolved to do
this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of
David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in
her is from the Holy Spirit. <b>21 </b>She will bear a son, and you are to name
him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” <b>22 </b>All this took
place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>23 </b>“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and they shall
name him Emmanuel,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">which
means, “God is with us.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>24 </b>When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord
commanded him; he took her as his wife, <b>25 </b>but had no marital relations with her
until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>2 </b>In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem
of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, <b>2 </b>asking, “Where
is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at
its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” <b>3 </b>When King Herod heard this, he
was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; <b>4 </b>and calling together all the
chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah
was to be born. <b>5 </b>They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been
written by the prophet:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>6 </b>‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> are by no means
least among the rulers of Judah;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">for
from you shall come a ruler<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> who is to
shepherd my people Israel.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>7 </b>Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from
them the exact time when the star had appeared. <b>8 </b>Then he sent
them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when
you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” <b>9 </b>When they had
heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they
had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. <b>10 </b>When they saw
that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. <b>11 </b>On entering the
house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid
him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of
gold, frankincense, and myrrh. <b>12 </b>And having been warned in a dream not to
return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>13 </b>Now after they
had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up,
take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell
you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” <b>14 </b>Then Joseph got
up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, <b>15 </b>and remained
there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the
Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sermon: “The Rest of the Story”</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Into the wild and
painful cold of the starless winter night came </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the refugees,<br />
slowly making their way to the border.<br />
The man, stooped from age or anxiety, hurried his small family </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">through the
wind.<br />
Bearded and dark, his skin rough and cracked from the cold,<br />
his frame looming large in spite of the slumped shoulders:<br />
He looked like a man who could take care of whatever came at them </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">from the
dark.<br />
Unless, of course, there were too many of them. One man he could handle . . .
two, even . . . but a border patrol . . . they wouldn’t have a chance.<br />
His eyes, black and alert, darted from side to side, then over his shoulder,
then back again forward. Had they been seen? Had they been heard?<br />
Every rustle of wind, every sigh from the child, sent terror through his chest.<br />
Was this the way? Even the stars had been unkind---<br />
Had hidden themselves in the ink of night so that the man </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">could not read their
way.<br />
Only the wind . . . was it enough?<br />
Only the wind and his innate sense of direction . . .<br />
What kind of cruel judgment would that be, to wander in circles</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">through the
night?<br />
Or to safely make their way to the border only to find the authorities </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">waiting
for them?<br />
He glanced at the young woman, his bride. No more than a child herself.<br />
She nuzzled their newborn, kissing his neck. She looked up, caught his eye, and
smiled.<br />
Oh, how the homelessness had taken its toll on her!<br />
Her eyes were red, her young face lined,<br />
her lovely hair matted from inattention,<br />
her clothes stained from milk and baby,<br />
her hands chapped from the raw wind of winter.<br />
She’d hardly had time to recover from childbirth when word had come that they
were hunted, and they fled with only a little bread, the remaining wine. <br />
Suddenly, the child began to make small noises.<br />
The man drew his breath in sharply.<br />
The woman quietly put the child to breast.<br />
Fear . . . long dread-filled moments . . .<br />
Huddled, the family stood still in the long silence.<br />
At last the man breathed deeply again <span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">reassured they had not been heard.<br />
And into the night continued Mary and Joseph and the Babe.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It’s not the usual
Christmas story we hear, is it? Ann Weems’ poem <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Refugees<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">[1]</b></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a></i>
reminds us that the first Christmas was more Aleppo than Hallmark nativity. God
entering the world was and is a story full of chaos, fear and threat. But we
choose not to remember those parts, focusing instead on the angelic choirs and
the shining star.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Why don’t we want to
remember the real Christmas? As you might expect, I have a theory. It’s the
same reason we would rather cheer on Frodo in his quest to take the ring to
Mordor than clean the bathroom. It’s the same reason we want to watch Jyn Erso
steal the death star plans instead of watching the latest troubling news. <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">It’s called escapism.</span> We all long for
an escape from both the horror and the humdrum of this life. This isn’t a bad
thing – it’s a human thing.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When life gets too
heavy, when the nights grow too dark, when we fear for the state of the world
we’re leaving for our children and grandchildren, escape is seductive. And so,
we imagine the fluffy (somehow sweet-smelling) sheep, the wise men with their
glittering clothing and the child that never makes a peep. It’s a story that
brings us comfort, an escape from all that troubles us, as well it should.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We should never discard <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">this</span> story, after all, as Madeleine
L’Engle wrote: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313;">“Stories make us more alive, more human, more courageous, more
loving.”</span></i><span style="color: #131313;"> But if we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only ever tell this</i> version of the Christmas story, we might forget
the most important part of it all: that <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">the
incarnation – God With Us – was not an escape.</span> Jesus wasn’t bored in heaven
with the Creator and the Spirit, longing for a little earthly entertainment.
No, the incarnation was a radical entering in. God breaking into the world, not
waiting for it to all be calm and bright, but right in the midst of the chaos
and the terror and the threat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yes, an angel came and told good news to Mary and Joseph
that they were going to be a part of birthing God into the world. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But less than a week later</i>, another
angel (maybe even the same one) came to tell them it was time to get out of
Dodge, because Herod was afraid and angry, and when fear, anger and power are
wedded, violence ensues. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Refugee Redeemer fled with his family; God choosing to
come in such radical vulnerability that he had to be carried in his weary young
mother’s arms. Now, that’s not a glittery story. We don’t particularly want our
children to act that one out.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But it is the other half of the Christmas story,
nonetheless. And, at the end of the day, as enticing as escapism is, we do not
need a God who escapes our troubles. <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">We
need this Refugee Redeemer</span>, who came into the world at its most messy and
unsettled, and still does. Who took the form of the most vulnerable among us, <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">that we might never confuse power with
holiness.</span> Who longs to gather all the lost children home, and to defy the
might of empire with the resilient hope of a single baby’s cry.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yes, we<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> want</i> a
God who helps us escape it all, of course we do. But we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> a God who runs towards and not away from danger and distress.
A God whose birth is more grit than glitter, more trial than tinsel. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This Christmas, let’s tell the <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">whole story</span> of Jesus. And then, let’s join him in entering into,
and not escaping from, all the desperate, despairing places of this world, to
proclaim that most essential of truths: </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #131313;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“God
is with you. And so are we. You are not alone.”</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: 12.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> <span style="color: #262626; font-family: "times"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Weems, Ann. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Refugees,”<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Kneeling in Bethlehem</span></i>. Philadelphia: Westminster Press,
1987. Print.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-16921191297911725362016-12-19T04:55:00.001-08:002016-12-19T04:55:09.387-08:00Do Not Be Afraid: Shepherds<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNU9eE_XAcXB5BaUgi6lI9J2dvCJna1nFVbl7mlB9SE7zLw4DD6eWWEgKIy95feiwlBYU4t4Rf-86SW9I3ushREwzffZs2cVbHmglxiij4XhKdI0eErb81r_tHVW0R3RholhR4Rbhf6Bw/s1600/15400999_358259831217760_2490590789024000947_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNU9eE_XAcXB5BaUgi6lI9J2dvCJna1nFVbl7mlB9SE7zLw4DD6eWWEgKIy95feiwlBYU4t4Rf-86SW9I3ushREwzffZs2cVbHmglxiij4XhKdI0eErb81r_tHVW0R3RholhR4Rbhf6Bw/s640/15400999_358259831217760_2490590789024000947_n.jpg" width="510" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Omran, Angels Are Here" by Judith Mehr</td></tr>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>December 18, 2016 - Fourth Sunday of Advent</b></div>
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<b>Luke 2:8-14</b></div>
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<b>8 </b>In the region of Bethlehem there were shepherds living in the
fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. <b>9 </b>Then an angel of
the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and
they were terrified. <b>10 </b>But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am
bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: <b>11 </b>to you is born
this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. <b>12 </b>This will be a
sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a
manger.” <b>13 </b>And suddenly
there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and
saying,<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>14 </b>“Glory to God in the highest heaven,<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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and on earth
peace among those whom God favors!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #262626;">Sermon:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do Not Be Afraid: Shepherds”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">I’m going to start this morning’s sermon with a riddle (that
those of you who are Tolkien nerds like me might get):<br />
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,</span></i><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313;">Cannot be
heard, cannot be smelt,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313;">It lies
behind stars and under hills,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313;">And empty
holes it fills,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313;">It comes
first and follows after,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #131313;">Ends life,
kills laughter.” <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">What is it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">Darkness! I’ve been thinking a lot about darkness this Advent.
Certainly the events in Aleppo make our world feel like a dark place. The
tensions in families and communities. The political games. The exhaustion on
the faces of those we love. As the days grow shorter and the nights grow
longer, sometimes it feels like darkness abounds. We seem surrounded by it, we
even feel it within ourselves, and like children trying to drift off to sleep,
we fear it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626;">But maybe darkness isn’t our greatest fear, however threatening
the shadows seem. I came across a quote I found particularly helpful: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #262626;">“We
can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life
is when [adults] are afraid of the light.” <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">Now, the internet will tell you that Plato said this. Perhaps a
reminder of the posts that read “Don’t trust everything you read on the
internet!” attributed to Abraham Lincoln will remind us that, just because
we’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">told</i> someone said something,
doesn’t mean they did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But nonetheless,
whether written by Plato or some philosophical grad student in a dorm room,
it’s a compelling quote: that fear of the light is the greater tragedy for us
grown ups.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">Marianne Williamson, later quoted by Nelson Mandela in his
inauguration speech, wrote a similar thing, words we’ve been using as our
Affirmation of Faith this Advent season: “It is our light, not our darkness,
that most frightens us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">As menacing as the dark seems, as fearful as the night can be, I
agree. We will always fear the dark. But we will always fear the light more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;">Take the case of those shepherds watching their flocks near
Bethlehem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The text in Luke doesn’t just
say they were out strolling with their sheep one night. No, they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">living</i> in the fields. They lived in
near-total darkness, every single night. Their eyes became adjusted to it, so
they could see a sneaky sheep skulking in the inky night in the wrong
direction. This pastoral night vision, honed over years of living in the
fields, meant the dark was no longer menacing or threatening. It was an old
friend, and they could see through it to recognize the real threats of
predators lurking beyond the fold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">But one night was not to be like all the others. An angel of the
Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them. “Shone
around” is so very fun in the original Greek: that word is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perilampsen.</i> Lamps, light, all around them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;">This word is only used in this form <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">twice</b> in all of scripture: here, in Luke, and also in Acts,
describing Saul’s conversion moment on the road to Damascus, when he would
receive a new name and a new path. You see, when the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perilampsen </i>comes, your life will never be the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">Maybe that’s why we fear the light the most. The darkness is
expected, comforting even, if our souls and eyes adjust to it. It does not
demand much of us, except perhaps feeding our most negative anxieties and
allowing them to roam as freely as predators in the night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;">But the light – the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perilampsen</i>
– the glory of God stopping us in our tracks, well, that demands much of us.
Perhaps this is why the angel’s message of good news for all people, and so
many other angelic messages we’ve encountered this Advent, begin with the
words, “do not be afraid.” God knows that our first impulse to this blinding
light, our first reaction that we have no power to restrain, is fear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">But notice how gentle that angel is!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He/She doesn’t say, “Suck it up, silly! Don’t
be a coward!” No, that angel says, “Do not be afraid…for see!” <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">For see.</b> Embrace the light. Study it,
allow it to flow around and within you. And then begin to feel its warmth –
that this light brings not destruction or threat, but the best news there is:
that God is with us all. And, as if the light wasn’t enough, it’s met with
angelic choirs singing the words that darkness most fears: glory and peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">Sometimes, though, like Saul our eyes are blind to this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perilampsen</i> and our ears are deaf to
this angelic song of glory and peace. Like those shepherds in the field so
accustomed to the night, we don’t even notice how little of the picture we’re
actually seeing, or how we’re adding to darkness rather than light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when this glory of God comes, we see the
world and ourselves as we really are, and this terrifies us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">If we see our pride, our egos, our prejudice, our bitterness, we
can’t stay the same. We have to change, because that darkness is no longer
cloaked in denial. God’s glory has brought it to light in order to make all
things new. Newness is perhaps the most frightening thing of all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;">There’s a reason Jesus didn’t appear on the scene as a
35-year-old, or a 70-year-old, or a 90-year-old, or a 17-year-old. Babies
literally scream of newness, and nothing is ever the same. Life doesn’t go back
to how it was. The very foundation shifts. I was there when my nieces were
born. It is beautiful. And it is terrifying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626;">Because this newness, this light, seems so very fragile. We’re
afraid of snuffing its glory with our cynicism or negligence. We’re afraid of
tainting it with our preconceptions about the world. We’re afraid of looking so
very dim next to it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">But here’s the thing about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perilampsen</i>,
this brilliant glory of God that came in a newborn refugee child. The more it
was oppressed, the more it faced the prejudice and hatred of rulers, and
violence and poverty and cynicism, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">the
brighter it shined.</b> The darkness rightly feared it, and still does.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">And so, like those shepherds sleeping in the shadows, comforted
by them, we must leave our darkness behind, and bask in the glory of this
coming child. We must not be like those tragic adults who fear the light,
giving ourselves over to the despair darkness brings. If we do that, we will
hear stories of violence in Aleppo and Sanford and feel pity and anger and
fear, and do nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">But if we give ourselves over to the Light instead, seeing this
world as it is but straining our ears for the sounds of angelic music within
it, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">we will do much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>We will reach out to mothers whose
children have been enslaved by gang violence in our own community and offer
them words of hope and healing. We will give to the <a href="https://herofund.whitehelmets.org/donate/crowdfund?source=twwbty">White Helmets Hero Fund</a>,
that supports rescue workers saving civilians in Syria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Duraid, one White Helmet aid worker said,
in supporting them “You will restore hope to a person who is hope itself.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">We will give to the Save the Children <a href="https://secure.savethechildren.org/site/c.8rKLIXMGIpI4E/b.7998763/k.FEA/Donate_to_the_Syria_Children_in_Crisis_Fund/apps/ka/sd/donor.asp">Syrian Children’s Relief Fund</a>,<span style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span>recognizing that Jesus was born into a time when children were threatened through
the terror of Herod, and he never wants us to forget children enduring similar
genocides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will name our own fear of
welcoming refugees, but let the light of a coming child, and not fear, dictate
our path.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">Yes, the light, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perilampsen,</i>
is terrifying. Those shepherds were never the same. Paul was never the same. We
cannot play it safe if we are to follow this light. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">As Marianne Williamson wrote and we confess this day, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #262626;">“We
are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory
of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as
we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do
the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically
liberates others.”</span></i><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;">So let your light, that <i>perilampsen,
</i>that glory of God within you. Especially when the night seems dark and full
of terrors. For the Light is coming, and it will change us, and we will change
the world. Amen.<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-22465932608390249712016-12-11T10:29:00.001-08:002016-12-11T10:29:08.358-08:00Do Not Be Afraid: Joseph<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVs5vAOI95P7GtaKrDY88IEfzEm4SESpC8Rg7aS_BdMa1ybpYK2ZnnDZgxm7A99xSNrL7Uq1TJee1lZXhaaUv7nuyiUtKQAphX5qqRwogpZQFa1TNKIGVlt-Dnryu72Dg21O3VA0JOe3Y/s1600/5-Suzy-O-Photography-Joseph-comforts-pregnant-crying-Mary-in-Labor-Jesus-2048wDMnoWM-X2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVs5vAOI95P7GtaKrDY88IEfzEm4SESpC8Rg7aS_BdMa1ybpYK2ZnnDZgxm7A99xSNrL7Uq1TJee1lZXhaaUv7nuyiUtKQAphX5qqRwogpZQFa1TNKIGVlt-Dnryu72Dg21O3VA0JOe3Y/s640/5-Suzy-O-Photography-Joseph-comforts-pregnant-crying-Mary-in-Labor-Jesus-2048wDMnoWM-X2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joseph Comforting Mary by<a href="http://www.suzyophotography.com/Nativity/"> Suzy O Photography</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Matthew 1:18-25<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>18 </b>Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.
When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived
together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. <b>19 </b>Her husband
Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace,
planned to dismiss her quietly. <b>20 </b>But just when he had resolved to do
this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of
David, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">do not be afraid</b> to take Mary
as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. <b>21 </b>She will bear a
son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their
sins.” <b>22 </b>All this took
place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>23 </b>“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and they shall
name him Emmanuel,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">which
means, “God is with us.” <b>24 </b>When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord
commanded him; he took her as his wife, <b>25 </b>but had no marital relations with her
until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sermon: “Do Not Be Afraid: Joseph”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Still waters run deep…”
isn’t that how your old saying goes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
suppose there’s some truth in that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
always, it seems, been associated with quietness and stillness; even before the
baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know me as Joseph, husband to
Mary, father (well, sort-of, we’ll get there later) to Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been remembered, for good or ill, as the
strong, silent type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The manger
character just slightly more essential than the second sheep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good ol’ carpenter Joe, doesn’t ever make a
fuss, does he?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I’m here today to set
the record straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I, Joseph, am
a man of quiet disposition and deep soul, slow to speak, more apt to listen and
observe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there’s an even more
important aspect of my personality you must understand if you truly want to
know me and my family: I never do anything by accident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every choice I make is carefully thought out,
meticulously considered, and purposefully acted upon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You also need to understand
the world in which I lived, the faith woven throughout every moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your scriptures say that Mary and I were
“engaged” when she was “found to be with child.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also say we were married. A bit
confused, are you? Let me clear things up: First of all, we weren’t engaged, at
least not in your understanding of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In my time, marriage was a contract between families that involved
several stages:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stage 1: When a young woman
reached puberty, she was contracted to her husband by her father. Vows were
taken. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stage 2: Though already
married in terms of vows, she remained with her family while her new husband
made arrangements for their livelihood and home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stage 3: When all was ready,
the young bride came to live with her husband (or him and his parents), the
marriage was consummated, and children usually came into the picture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mary and I were at stage 2:
already married, but not yet living together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So any complications at this point did mean divorce, not a simple “breaking
it off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, onto the next key part
of our story, described by your scriptures as “Mary was found to be with
child.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Found?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well isn’t that cute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This wasn’t some fertility hide-and-seek
game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my time, this meant one of two things:
either she had been unfaithful to me, the punishment for which was death, or
she had been attacked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was pregnant,
that much was plain, but she was either guilty or innocent of the circumstances
of that pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Normally, a public
trial would take place to determine Mary’s culpability in her pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your Bible says I was unwilling to expose her
to public disgrace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my language, I
was saving her from being made a spectacle of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had no option but to
divorce her; the Law was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I
did get a say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in the manner in which</i>
that divorce happened: public and dramatic, or as quiet as possible (of course
everyone would still know).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I said, I
never made any decision lightly, and I did love Mary, so I wanted to spare her
some shame, even if she was guilty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That was my plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d thought it through; consulted the Law;
began to put things in motion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then
an angel showed up, and ruined those plans, thanks be to God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Joseph, son of
David,” </i>he
said,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “do not be afraid to take Mary as
your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will
bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from
their sins.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
found it funny he told me not to be afraid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Truth be told, I hadn’t even realized how terrified I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I was acting out of duty and custom
– the Law was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to choose
between the lesser of two evils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
was no third choice, or that’s what my fear wanted me to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, there was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The angel told me not to be afraid to take
Mary as my wife, because this child was from God, a child who would save people
from their sins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember finding it
ironic that the child who was an emblem of the sin of unmarried relations in my
understanding of the Law, was to be himself the intercessor, the forgiver, the
undoing of the power of sin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’s almost like God did that on purpose!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
angel’s message wasn’t just about remaining married to Mary, moving on to stage
3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was also told to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">name that child.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, you need to know a bit about what this
meant in my world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naming a child wasn’t
picking the least terrible among the family names, or the cutest in the latest
name book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the whole, mothers did the
naming in those days<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference">[1]</span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for a father to name a child was to say,
“This child is mine.” It’s something like adoption in your day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Put simply, it settles the question of
paternity for good. This doesn’t of course mean the gossip dies down entirely,
but it gives that child all the rights of inheritance and identity of the
father’s line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As
you know, my line had special prophetic significance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My bloodline was no stranger to strange
pregnancies: the beginning of your book of Matthew shows that. I like the way
one fellow, Raymond Brown, describes my genealogy: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Among Matthew's forty-two fathers (his count) were
listed four Old Testament women, all of them with a history before marriage or
childbirth that made their situation either strange or scandalous. In particular,
Tamar, the widow of Judah's son, was found to be pregnant indecently long after
her husband's death; Judah denounced her ‘til he realized that he was the
father. Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, became pregnant not by her husband but by
David. Yet in all these instances the woman was God's instrument in preserving
Israel and/or the lineage of the Messiah. So also, the fifth woman of the
genealogy, Mary, is in a seemingly scandalous pregnancy.”<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">[2]</b></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And scandalous it was, this
pregnancy of my wife, Mary. I tell you, for a man accustomed to stillness,
quietness, and careful calculations of each choice, the unexpected scandal of a
child was about as terrifying as it gets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It turns out, my still waters did run deeper than my fear, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Because
that angel taught me that sometimes the right thing to do can’t be contained by
the constraints of how things have always been done.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, God interrupts our careful plans
and what matters most is not dogma, or ritual, or even belief, but grace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ll
not pretend to you it was an easy life being the adoptive father of such a
child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stares and the camel milkman
jokes never stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were even a
couple of teenage tantrums of “you’re not my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real </i>dad” that were pretty painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I wouldn’t trade anything for the honor of being Jesus’ earthly
father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It very nearly didn’t happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
tell you my story, partly to finally set the record straight, but also because
when I look out today, I recognize many of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some of you sure look an awfully lot like me: the strong, silent
type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I just want to remind you how
very deep those waters within you go, that you don’t have to let your life be
dictated by convention and rules all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes, you can do the unexpected thing: silence your fear with a public
act of grace; bear the brunt of others’ scrutiny to protect those you love;
recognize that we’re all of us adoptive children of God, hoping our life isn’t
some sort of cosmic accident. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Take
it from me, Joseph, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">the choice to belong
to each other</b>, (knowing it will cost us much in terms of our rightness, our
carefully laid plans, and our pride), <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">this
will never, ever be the wrong choice.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do you have the courage to make that choice, and to stand by it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How deep will your waters go? Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #262626;">Mendenhall, Laura S. "Adoption." <i>Journal
For Preachers</i> 25.1 (2001): 41-43. <i>ATLA Religion Database with
ATLASerials</i>. Web. 7 Dec. 2016.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6552943772482617029#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Brown, Raymond Edward. "The
Annunciation Of Joseph (Matt 1:18-25)." <i>Worship</i> 61.6 (1987):
482-492. <i>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</i>. Web. 7 Dec. 2016.</span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-90416734584394835932016-12-04T10:53:00.003-08:002016-12-04T10:56:43.402-08:00Do Not Be Afraid: Mary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<h3>
<i><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Before the sermon began, we viewed a slideshow of annunciation artwork, including some of these.</span></i></h3>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">December 4, 2016 - Second Sunday of Advent</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Luke 1:26-38<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>26 </b>In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a
town in Galilee called Nazareth, <b>27 </b>to a virgin engaged to a man whose name
was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. <b>28 </b>And he came to
her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” <b>29 </b>But she was much
perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. <b>30 </b>The angel said
to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. <b>31 </b>And now, you
will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. <b>32 </b>He will be
great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give
to him the throne of his ancestor David. <b>33 </b>He will reign over the house of Jacob
forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” <b>34 </b>Mary said to the
angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” <b>35 </b>The angel said
to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">you, and the power of the Most High
will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be
called Son of God. <b>36 </b>And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also
conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren.
<b>37 </b>For nothing will
be impossible with God.” <b>38 </b>Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it
be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sermon:
“Do Not Be Afraid: Mary”<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We know the scene: the room, variously furnished, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">almost always a lectern, a book; always<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">the tall lily.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Arrived on solemn grandeur
of great wings,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">whom she acknowledges, a guest.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">courage.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The engendering Spirit<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">did not [arrive] without consent.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;"> God waited.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She was free<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">to accept or to refuse, choice<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">integral to humanness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Aren’t there annunciations<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">of one sort or another<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">in most lives?</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Some
unwillingly<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">undertake great destinies,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">enact them in sullen pride,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">uncomprehending.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">More often<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">those moments<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> when roads of light and storm<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> open from darkness in a man or
woman,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">are turned away from<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and with relief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ordinary lives continue.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
God does not smite them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She had been a child who played, ate, slept<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">like any other child–but unlike others,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">wept only for pity, laughed<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">in joy not triumph.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Compassion and intelligence<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">fused in her, indivisible.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Called to a destiny more momentous<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">than any in all of Time,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">she did not quail,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;"> only asked</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">a simple, ‘How can this be?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and gravely, courteously,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">took to heart the angel’s reply,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">the astounding ministry she was offered:</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">to bear in her womb<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Infinite weight and lightness; to carry<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">in hidden, finite inwardness,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">nine months of Eternity; to contain<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">in slender vase of being,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the sum of power–<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">in narrow flesh,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">the sum of light.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
Then bring to birth,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">push out into air, a Man-child<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">needing, like any other,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">milk and love–</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">but who was God.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">This was the moment no one speaks of,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">when she could still refuse.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">A breath unbreathed,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">
Spirit,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">
suspended,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">
waiting.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">She did not cry, ‘I cannot. I am not worthy,’</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Nor, ‘I have not the strength.’</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">She did not submit with gritted teeth,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">
raging, coerced.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Bravest of all humans,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">
consent illumined her.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">The room filled with its light,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">the lily glowed in it,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">
and the iridescent wings.</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Consent,</span><span style="color: #262626;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
courage unparalleled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Denise Levertov's poem "Annunciation" introduces us to
a very different Mary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is not all
meekness and alabaster skin and laundered blue scarf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is the embodiment of courage in the face
of fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She does not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to say </span>“Here am I, the
servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She
could have said, “Gabe, you must be crazy! I’m not bearing God’s son. I’m still
a child myself, only thirteen, and I’m not even married yet!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She could have given herself over to fear of this mother of unknowns
(pun intended), and fled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did
not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She consented, and so ushered God
into the world with a willing heart and body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And what love that child would learn from her, all because she <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">chose </b>him!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our
poet Denise reminds us that this annunciation moment was not Mary’s alone: we
all have them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moments when God would
bring us great possibility, but that light is so startling, that invitation so
overwhelming, that we cower in familiar shadows, relieved when God’s Spirit
moves on to call someone else instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These small annunciations happen so often, we do not even notice them
most of the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They
are the moments just after a conversation has ended in argument, when God
nudges us toward apology, yet we retreat into “us and them” instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They are the moments when we the invitation is given to tell
someone about our faith, or our church, or our questions of God, and then we
embrace an evangelism of politeness instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They
are the moments when a young person, perhaps a child or grandchild, expresses
their deep concerns about the world and, instead of asking more and listening,
we spout an answer they were not seeking, and shut down true dialogue, because
we don’t know what to say, and we worry we’re not right, and that scares us
more than anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They
are the moments when we feel uneasy by the hateful, racist language of a
stranger or even a friend, and know we should speak up, but don’t, because
we’re just relieved we’re not the brunt of their vitriol.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They
are the moments God speaks to us in the middle of the night with dreams of
trying something new, of being someone new, but we awake to the complacency of
our routines, and we forget.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
doubt Mary has forgotten her moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes, I imagine a wise Mary enjoying heaven with Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I picture her face this time of year, when
that beautiful, but biblically unfounded song, “Mary Did You Know?” gets sung
again and again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see her rolling her
eyes with bemusement that we in the church seem to have forgotten that she was
in on the whole incarnation thing from the very beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That her ‘yes’ was not blind acceptance; but
that she had some idea of what she was getting into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chose</i>
to say yes, and because she did, God was born into the world with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>eyes, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a miraculous
thing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She chose to be brave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When
was the last time we did that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">These
small annunciations come to us, and like Mary, we have a choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can choose the path of fear, which will
keep us doing exactly what we have always done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We can tell those Gabriels to move on to someone younger or older,
someone stronger, less afraid, more faithful, and they will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And our companion will not be the new life of
God, but our old life-draining fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nothing will be demanded of us, and nothing will change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Or,
we can choose the path of courage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everything will be demanded of us, and it’s possible that<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> everything</i> will change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God will dwell in us, show us how very small
our fear can be, and how very big our life can be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God’s
Spirit gives us a choice, just like Mary.
Will we consent, or will we let fear rule our lives? God will be born into this troubled world
again and again, this is true. This is
what we cling to each Advent season, as the days grow short and the nights grow
long and dark. God will be born, but the
real question is: will God be born in you?
In me? In us? Will God have our eyes, our laugh?<b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>That,
my friends, depends on what we choose.
Amen. </span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6552943772482617029.post-81618567980843700032016-11-27T11:17:00.001-08:002016-11-27T11:17:42.146-08:00Do Not Be Afraid: Zechariah<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">November 27, 2016 - First Sunday in Advent</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Luke 1:5-25</span></b><b><u><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">In the
days of King Herod of Judah, there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged
to the priestly order of Abijah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
wife was a descendent of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both of them were righteous before God,
living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the
Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they had no children, because
Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Once,
when Zechariah was serving as priest before God and his section was on duty, he
was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the
sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now at the time of the incense offering, the whole assembly of the
people was praying outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then there
appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar
of incense.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">When
Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the angel said to him, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Do not be afraid, Zechariah</b>, for your
prayer has been heard. Your wife, Elizabeth, will bear you a son, and you will
name him John.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will have joy and
gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight
of the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must never drink wine or
strong drink; even before his birth, he will be filled with the Holy
Spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will turn many of the people
of Israel to the Lord their God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
the spirit and the power of Elijah he will turn the hearts of parents to their
children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a
people prepared for the Lord.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Zechariah
said to the angel, “How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and
my wife is getting on in years.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
angel replied, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been
sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. But now, because you did
not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become
mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Meanwhile,
the people were waiting for Zechariah, and wondering at his delay in the
sanctuary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he did come out, he
could not speak to them, and they realized he had seen a vision in the
sanctuary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kept motioning to them,
and remained unable to speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">When his
time of service had ended, he went to his home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">After those
days, his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in
seclusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said, “This is what the
Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me, and took away my disgrace
I have endured among my people.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Sermon:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do Not Be Afraid: Zechariah”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">I always
thought I feared the worst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
we’re somehow conditioned in this way: to prepare for the most negative
outcome, as if this saves us from disappointment (spoiler alert: it doesn’t.).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I feared my wife Elizabeth dying
before I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I feared being
an ineffective priest in the order of Abijah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It took a slightly-pushy angel to show me that I was wrong: I did not
fear the worst, after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I feared the best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Ah, I
haven’t said who “I” am yet, have I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
Zechariah, husband to Elizabeth, father to John...but that comes later in my
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back to that pushy angel:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">I was doing
my priestly duties for the incense offering, going about the
decent-and-in-good-order rituals of honoring God on behalf of my people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be honest, sometimes we priests get into a
bit of a routine with these sorts of things, and so I did not expect anything
unusual to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was looking forward
to getting it done well, praying for my wife, and then joining her for a nice
lunch with our extended family, and perhaps a little nap, if I was lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Until a
pushy angel showed up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish that being
a man of the cloth meant I was open to receiving such an interruption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The appearance of that angel shining like an exploding star terrified me
to my core.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was actually foolish
enough to believe that this was the most afraid I’d ever be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next moment turned out to strike even
greater fear in me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">He
sensed my fear, this angel, and said, “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Do
not be afraid, </b>Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">I
anxiously wracked my brains for what I had last prayed for: my knees to stop
aching?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Liz to be healthy as she got
older?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A nice new set of robes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, an uneasiness began to grow in my
stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suddenly knew what prayer he
meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Liz and I had prayed for days, then
weeks, then months, then years, for a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">And
finally, our souls weary from hoping that long, we stopped praying for a child,
and began to pray for acceptance of our simple life the way it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, as the angel said his next words, they
were already echoing in my terrified heart, “It’s a boy, Zephaniah!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His name’ll be John, and he will bring joy
like you’ve never known.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will be
great in God’s eyes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">You’d
think that when God finally answers your deepest, most secret prayer, you’d
rejoice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But joy was not my instinctive feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt even deeper fear, especially for Liz
at her age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How can this be?!” I
cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m downright old, and Liz isn’t
exactly a spring chicken, either!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">The
angel didn’t seem to be dissuaded by these practical and rational fears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you know who I am?” he pushed. “I am
Gabriel, kind of a big deal in God’s house, and I’m bringing you good news
today!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you can’t see past your
fears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I’m striking you mute until
that child of yours is born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You need to
see that God’s blessing is beyond your rationality, and perhaps if you can’t
talk, you’ll get there sooner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">I told
you he was a pushy angel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And mute I
was, for all 9 months, making my first sounds with my newborn son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, we’ll not ask Liz which was a greater
blessing: a child of her own she’d longed for, or her chatty, nervous husband
being unable to speak for the entirely of her pregnancy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">I’ll
tell you this, though: a person can do an awful lot of thinking when they’re
not able to talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I replayed that
encounter with Gabriel over and over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I pondered the God who was listening to each of those heartfelt prayers for
a child for all those years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly, I
examined what it was that made me so very afraid to have my prayer
answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came to an unexpected
conclusion, one I hinted at in the beginning of my story to you today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">I don’t
think we human beings fear the worst, after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">assume</i> we do: we do our risk assessments and praise predictability,
trying to minimize pain and loss at all cost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Entire industries exist because they want us to fear the worst, telling
us we need stronger security, bigger weapons, more suspicion of those who
differ from us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We digest all that fear
and all that anxiety, and wind up feeling like we’re always choosing between
lesser evils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But deep down, beneath all
the negativity and pessimism and conditioning, I think we have a deeper
fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And that fear is of the best. </b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">We fear
the unplanned joy and the inopportune grace of God coming in the startling
appearance of angels. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We fear a God who
actually listens when we pray and sometimes, when it’s least convenient or
practical, answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s what I
learned about this kind of fear in my many months of silence:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">it can
do just as much damage, perhaps even more so, than fearing the worst.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Think
about it: how deadly is this fear to our sense of expectant hope this Advent
season?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does our fear of God’s unpredictable
joy, our most visceral, private prayers answered, keep us living smaller lives
than we should, being stricter with our forgiveness than we should, having a
faith fueled by pessimism and not the wild hope God can bring?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fear of the best can actually imprison our
souls until we worship not God, but predictability and safety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Now, an
angel might not strike you mute this Advent season, but I encourage you to
practice intentional silence and ponder to yourselves: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">what “best” are you terrified of?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></b>How have you in your life traded daring hope for lesser roads of
certainty and security?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What angels has
God put in your path to remind you to dream bigger, to love extravagantly, to live
bravely?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">New life
is coming to you, friends, just like it came to Liz and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you miss it, it won’t be because it’s not
there; it will be because you’re too busy talking and not listening, too
preoccupied with playing it safe, to recognize it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16.0pt;">Take it
from me, your life will be so much richer if you live it expecting, and not fearing,
the best, and if you listen to angels along the way (even the pushy ones).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16724920747219714802noreply@blogger.com0