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My heart beats for love. I want to be different. I want to be who I am called to be. WORTHY and LOVED!

Sunday, November 28, 2010

The Expectant Community - Isaiah 40: 1-11

My family has always been ones to prepare for things early. My mother is always good about making us have our Christmas lists complete before October, shopping done before November, tree up in early November, and so on. Our preparation is not limited to Christmas – oh no – even to this day I usually have my bags packed a week before I make a trip.

But really that’s what makes part of anything we look forward to worthwhile, right? The sense of expectation that comes when we begin to prepare. The mounting joy and sense of wonder that comes as each day brings us one step closer.

The people of Israel had lost their sense of expectation. Their sense of having something to prepare for. The place they lived and worship, the place that they believed the spirit of God dwelled had fallen – Jerusalem had been taken by the Babylonians and with it, the people of power had been marched on a three month journey to be exiled in Babylon. It was a bleak time that lasted for many years. So many that those who were first taken away had died off, leaving only their legacy and stories of what once had been of the people of Israel and the mighty city of Jerusalem. And with the death of those who first traveled so many miles seemed to be the extinction of any hope of returning.

The people felt that they were being punished for breaking their covenant with God. It is what the prophets of old had told them. It was what their forefathers and mothers had drilled into their heads. It was what they believed.

But then. But then the unexpected happened. In a community so wrought with despair, God appeared. God not only appeared, but God did this radical things. God commanded God’s very self to comfort his people. Let’s stop for just a moment and think about that. No one on this earth or in the host of Heaven has the power to command God and actually expect God to do what was commanded. No one. No one, except for God’s very being. And that is what we have here; God telling God to comfort the people of Israel. He wants Israel to know that their time of trial is coming to a close. That salvation is just around the corner. God gives the people something to hope for. Something to prepare for.

God tells the people that help is on the way. A road must be cleared for the Lord. God is going to walk across the terrain that no one could survive before – the desert places – in order to make a new path for his people to follow as they return to Jerusalem.

And this must be done – for God has commanded God, and God cannot go back on his own word. Everything else is this world may only be beautiful and true for a fleeting period of time, but the word of God always is fulfilled without mortal limitations.

God is doing a new thing. He is about to come in and declare his might by gathering up this people, his very own, and carrying them back to the place of freedom form which they came.

What a powerful message. What a radical message for a people who had never actually seen or been to Jerusalem. We will find is subsequent weeks that not all followed this message of God and not all believed this message of God commanding God’s very self. But maybe this message and the reaction to it by God’s people isn’t too far off from our reality today.

Today we enter the season of advent – the season when we prepare individually and as the community of God for this radical thing – the Son of God descending into flesh like ours to live among us. And through his presence God would make a new way in order to bring us back.

But for far too many of us this message gets lost amongst the hustle and bustle of wrapping presents, shopping, and baking cookies. We become preoccupied with the details instead of focusing of the excitement that the truth about advent brings.

And maybe the reason we can become so easily distracted is because we forget who we are. We forget that we are the people of God and that God is so faithful, because we are being held captive by the world around us. So when some of us hear this message of hope that some in our midst become excited about and start to prepare for, we dismiss them as optimists or dreamers. Because in all actuality, we don’t want to return to this place we have never been. We don’t want to trust this God whom had just be handed down to us through our ancestors but whom we have never met. So we choose to stay put. We continue in our bleak daily existence, because we don’t have anything radical to become excited about any more.

But others of us will hear the still small whisper of the truth about this season. The truth about what is yet to come. So we become excited. We look forward to something that we don’t know quite what to expect. We prepare.

Today we are going to hang the greens, set up the chrisom tree, and begin lighting the advent wreath in worship. We can look at all of this one of two ways. We can either see it as an act where the church is just prescribing to the greater culture around us – buying into the bustle of the season. Or we can make it mean something – we can set this up to be our reminder of what we expect to come. Be our tangible reminder of the presence of God that has come to dwell among us. This could be a constant reminder over the next four weeks that we are excited because God is moving among us and will continue to move among us in this amazing way. But whatever your personal view of hanging the greens in church may be, we do it together. Because we are a community. Those who believed this message today in Isaiah dwelt with those who did not believe it. For they were still a community. So come from the east and come from the west. Come from the back on the sanctuary and from the front. May we once again become excited about the message of God as we live together these next four weeks.

Monday, November 22, 2010

A Time to Give Thanks - Luke 1: 68-79

We are entering Thanksgiving week. Statistically, this is the most traveled week of the entire year as people fly and drive to meet those whom they love. It’s a time for eating and celebrating life. But in the midst of the preparations this past week, I’ve found myself thinking about some of the families I worked with at Hershey Medical Center this past summer. For those families who lost loved ones in June, July, and August, this is really the first major holiday they have to face without them. And further, it’s a holiday that is about celebrating and giving thanks. As I’ve thought about those families, one in particular sticks out in my mind. I walked with a mother from the birth to the death of her son, eight days later. That baby changed my life and rocked my view of God. I loved him. And I was paralyzed when life support was removed from his little body. I was angry at God for letting this little one come into the world only to take him away so quickly, but his mother, at the age of 19, taught me something on the day of his death – that it is possible to be thankful for something that seems so tragic, so unfair. She turned to me through her tears, holding her baby for the first time right before he was about to breathe his last breath and said how thankful she was that he came into her life. Even if it was just for eight days. Even if he will never be able to grow up, he touched the world, and changed it by his very presence. And that is what she was thankful for. Her song of weeping said that he mattered, and that he was a blessing.

There is this something about difficulty that makes thanksgiving possible. How could you be thankful for something that you didn’t know could exist. How could this teenage girl have known what love was without a birth that lead to a loss? How could you be thankful for the fragility and beauty of life if death was never experienced? How could you be thankful for what you have if there was not a time in your life when you didn’t have as much?

Life is all about such paradoxes. In a series of moments all that we once held dear could be lost or regained. So maybe this Thanksgiving, those who are most thankful are those who have struggled, not those who have suffered not. Isn’t that what Zechariah’s song over John is really about? Here is a man whose tongue had been silenced by God for the duration of his wife’s pregnancy because of his unbelief. Utter silence for nine months. But when the boy was born his lips spoke again to breathe his name, “John”.

What is the first thing Zechariah, the one who had been mute for the better part of a year, say after “his name I John” this song of prophecy, thanksgiving, and celebration. Now maybe Zechariah just had a whole lot of time to think about God in his time of silence, but maybe he was just so overwhelmed by the glory of God as his burden was lifted that he realized what he really had. There is something about processed suffering that brings sharp clarity. Zechariah would never be able to sing this song if he was bitter at God for what he had endured. No, here is a man who had worked through his grief in order to get to the celebration. Or someone like the young woman with the child who only saw eight days inside of a NICU who understood something much bigger than her own personal situation.

This song of celebration is filled with proclamations of what God has done. And notice that it is not just what God has done for Zechariah, but for the entire nation of Israel, all of God’s people. There is something in this thanksgiving that emerges from puts things into a much broader perspective that makes us look past ourselves. God has looked favorably on his people, all of them, and redeemed them. He has risen up a horn of salvation to proclaim that a servant is coming from the house of David. God has been true to his word. He has saved us from our enemies, those who hate us. He has showered us with mercy, He has remembered the covenant that was made with those long since passed. And because we have been rescued, because we’ve come from this place of suffering, we can serve God without fear. We can celebrate this holy one because of where we’ve come from. And this is our message to share. We have come so far; we’ve come this far by faith. By the tender mercy of a God who loves us, and causes the sun to break the dark sky open, giving light to shine on the path that will lead us to peace. This is why we give thanks.

What a message Zechariah has to sing! When was the last time we ever took this perspective, ever sang a song of praise as soon as we emerged from a dark time or a bleak moment?

I can say that is not my first response. A few weeks ago I had a very bad start to the week that just seemed to keep escalating in each moment, until the crowing glory moment, I hit a deer with my car. Well maybe not hit so much as caught mid leap, but it did major damage to the front hood of the car as the majority of what lies underneath it. But as I now have a safe distance from that moment, from that week really, I can start to look back and praise God for what I was given and what I learned in that time of trial that my dad has lovingly named my breakdown week.

Some of the things that emerged were seemingly small – but these powerful moments that have lead me to give thanks to God. For example, the car I am currently driving does not have a cd player, so I rely on my ipod for music instead of my favorite cds. And what should happen when you hit “shuffle” but that song start to play that I had long since forgotten about. The one that got to me during my eight hours on the road this week is from the musical “Godspell”: “When will thou save the people? Oh God, of mercy, when? The people, Lord the people!” Not oh God, when will you save me. No, us, Oh God, when are you going to save us, because collectively we are not in a good place, we are all in a world of darkness, but only some of us have eyes to see it. When will you save us, so we can have the veil that covers our eyes lifted and our lips unmated so we can sing of your thanksgiving and many blessings?

We are about to enter the season of preparation, the season of advent, starting next week. Today, as we look forward to that day, we celebrate Christ’s Kingship. His glory. Zechariah may not have known it, but his song was as much about his own son as it was about Jesus, the one yet to be born. We celebrate that in a particular moment in time this unbelievable thing happened, God gave us something to sing a song about, even in the midst of poverty and Roman oppression. In the midst of suffering, God came down to us. And for us he suffered, replacing his royal crown with one of thorns. And on the third day, the Son of God rose and conquered death. So we sing a song of thanksgiving. For not only did we suffer, but another suffered for us so that we may be free.

Zechariah is not singing a song of what he wants God to do, like sitting on Santa’s lap with a wish list. No, Zechariah sang of what God had been doing for ages and what God was going to continue to do. When are the moments that have lead you to sing a song of deep thanksgiving and what lead you to that moment? For God does save us. The God of mercy rescues us even from our darkest moments of despair. The true question is not if God intervenes, but if we are attuned enough to realize it, and give thanks both for what God has done in the past, where we have been, and where God is going to lead us to in the future. Amen.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

A Call to Stewardship - Deut 14: 22-29

This is the sermon topic that preachers hate to have come up and that people don’t really enjoy listening to. Tithing. But today I want us to set aside what we know about tithing an re-envision it.

The memory is both hazy and crystal clear. I was six years old and I rooted through my desk for a stray envelope that came with my stationary set. Holding my pencil in that awkward position that most children do, like a crayon just too big for my fingers, I write in big letters across the front Michelle B. I put a dollar of my two-dollar allowance the envelope, licked it shut and took it out to the kitchen table where I handed it to my dad. I told him it was my envelope just like his. His look – shocked and proud all at the same time. With that a life long process began.

To give and bless like the hearts of children. Why is it that our smallest ones are the biggest givers? $1.00 may not seem like much, but it was 50 percent of what I had. And I still remember my Sunday School kids who rooted around each week for their own change to put into the church bank, instead of asking their parents for it. Or other children who would exchange their gifts and toys with other kids and adults, a wooden block still sits on my parents’ kitchen windowsill as that reminder. Why is it that children can give, but as adults, well as adults it just doesn’t seem right any more.

It’s like our rational thinking gets in the way. We need to pay the bills first. Then put some money into savings. And if there is any money left in the end, well then we’ll give to God’s work through the church. On one hand it seems logical and on the other it speaks of our grave misunderstanding of tithing.

At the same time, maybe our misunderstanding of tithing comes from the fact that the Bible itself has lots of conflicting things to say about it – but today I want to focus in one image of tithing presented in the book of Deutornomity. Tithing is about celebrating. When is the last time you heard that, brothers and sisters?

You are to tithe all of your produce – all of your fruits, year after year. But where does that tithe go? To you and to the community. Once a year all of the people of Israel would come together for a celebration in Jerusalem. They would fill satchels with their produce, the first of their wheat and barley and the best of their figs and farm goods, and would pile them high on the backs of donkeys and begin the journey to Jerusalem. For some the journey was short, but for others it was too far to bring their offering. So they were instructed to sell their tithe and bring the money to the city. Once there, they could buy whatever they wanted for the celebration – wine, meat, cheese, bread. Those who brought their offering and those who brought money and bought items for the celebration in the city come together and share, rejoicing in God.

Those who did not have much, still attended the party, for it was for them too. The priests, the orphans, the widows, those who did not have income of their own, came and ate with those who had abundance, for the economy of God is nothing short of abundance. Ever.

In fact, once every three years, the tithe didn’t go to a celebration for everyone, but just for the Levites, the foreigners, the orphans, and the widows. For they need to be satisfied as well.

Last week I was in Ohio with a group of young seminary students from the United Methodist Church. At the close of our time together, we went to visit a Methodist Church start in Columbus called the Church for all People. The church started out as a free store, where all were welcomed and no one had to prove that they qualified for aid before they could shop. Each family was given a shopping card that allowed them to come in throughout the month and get what they need. Oh and the coffee was always hot. Out of this free store, came a community that worships every day the free store is open, as well as on Sundays. A church was formed. And out of that church came a re-development corporation that is fixing people’s homes in Columbus in neighborhoods that others deemed to be undeliverable and bought condemned properties to turn into affordable housing.

When we met with the lead pastor he explained the three basic principles of the church and all the out reach it does in the city of Columbus: All are welcome because God loves all just as they are. All are to be received with hospitality into this place of hope. And the third, well the third is what really got my attention: God’s Divine Economy is one of abundance therefore; you can see abundance in every community if you just look.

The questions most churches are asking today is how we can have more and what do we need, but the Church for All people asks how have we been blessed already. The free store has been open since 1999 and never once, in all of those years, have the shelves been empty. Those times when they were afraid they would run out, on slots of donations would come in. Times that they were concerned about the grand nature of their vision to create affordable housing, grant money would be received. God provides for the big visions when they are about transforming the Kingdom.

So what does all of this have to do about tithing? Well at the church for all people, only 20% of those who attend are deemed to be middle class or above. The majority would fall into the category of poor, and for some their address is ever changing from one street corner to the next. Yet, this church raised the funds for its own church building. They came together to help build the first affordable housing duplex. Because they embraced the idea that God’s economy is all about abundance. While others would look at them and see how little they had, they looked at themselves and saw only how God had blessed them. They got it. Tithing is about coming together to celebrate. And they wanted to celebrate with the city of Columbus.

What do we envision this church doing for State College? Where is God leading us that we only respond to with “well we don’t have enough yet”? How are we taking care of those whose moms and dads are gone, whose spouses have passed, those who aren’t from this city, this state, or even this country? Are we really about celebrating God’s goodness with all of those around us? Because if we are, 10% doesn’t seem like this unattainable or useless goal. Is it going to be hard for some people? Yes. It requires us to live inside of our means and buck the system that tells us more is better. For others it’s going to mean being more responsible with finances or planning ahead. And for others, it’s going to be rethinking the disciplines around money to write the tithe check first instead of last.

I can already imagine some of the kick back this sermon is going to get – yes, I know that not all of us can litgitametyly afford 10%, but maybe you can give 1% or 2 %. And yes, God wants our talents and time too, but notice that the tithe is speaking about as being separate. It is not one or another. Money or time. Tithe or other gift to the church. It’s both, and. And that brothers and sisters is not a message that we all want to hear. And that’s okay, because you are still welcomed at the celebration too. However, just because getting our finances right and getting our priorities on track is hard does not mean that we should give into the excuses. Because often all they do is block the vision for the community and the celebration. We are blessed by God. Do you believe that? Now how are we going to live out the celebration of that blessing? Amen.

Blocking the View - Luke 19: 1-10

Four feet and ten inches. This is how tall I stand. I’ve been this tall (or short depending on your perspective) since middle school, so I have had many years to work out creative ways to deal with my stature. When I drive, the seat of my car has to almost be up as far as it will go, and I know that I can’t drive large vehicles, because I can’t see out of the windshield to safely maneuver the van or SUV. I have learned how to crawl up on counters to reach items in my kitchen, that I can’t even reach with a step stool. And above all I have learned when to ask for help – whether it be getting something off of a shelf at the store, of placing my luggage in the overhead bin on the airplane. I have learned to adapt when it is important.

Lest you think that there is no benefit to being vertically challenged, I have also learned how to work with my stature for benefit. I can wiggle through crowds to places that taller individuals cannot go. More than once, I have drug my taller friends with me through seas of people in order to be closer at a concert or to catch the line for a train. I know that there is no question as to where I will be in-group photos and I have learned how to ask for help, a skill our society seems to be lacking.

However, even with all of the benefits, the most annoying thing about being shorter – other then people mistaking me for someone much younger than my actual age – is around the issue of visibility. For some reason it just seems like tall people love to sit down in front of me, especially when it is at an event that I actually want to see, like a play, a ballet, or a classroom lecture. The flat world is not meant to accommodate people of different sizes – so we must be creative in how we create levels, so we can see what is going on.

I have sympathy for Zacchaeus and his short stature. I know what it is like to have to run to get ahead, weave through crowds, or arrive early just so I can see what is going on. And even then I have to hope that no one blocks my view. In today’s gospel lesson we have Zacchaeus running ahead to climb a sycamore tree along the path that Jesus was going to pass through. He knew that if he wanted to see that he had to go above (literally) and beyond what the others around him had to do in order to just have the chance of catching a glimpse of this man he had heard so much about. Visualize the courage this took – here is a grown man climbing a tree. When is the last time you saw this happen? He had to set aside his own pride and thoughts of how others would perceive him in order to maybe see what others were blocking him from seeing.

I have to believe that Zacchaeus in all of his creative maneuvering never expected Jesus to see him. When you are short you get used to being invisible. No one seems to care about obstructing your sight or making sure that you don’t get lost or trampled. Other then those who love you. And who would expect this stranger, this Jesus, to care about someone like Zacchaeus, a man who had trampled over the human dignity of his fellow Jews through his tax collecting procedures. And yet. And yet, Jesus stopped. Jesus looked up into the tree and beckoned Zacchaeus down, telling him that he was coming to his house to stay that day.

Someone saw Zacchaeus and extended an invitation that was rooted in love. I can just imagine Jesus’ eyes as he speaks these words to Zacchaeus – and I imagine that they are similar to the eyes full of relief, joy, and genuine care of my friends who had thought they had lost me in a crowd, only to find that I was right at their side. Zacchaeus thought he was just another person in a sea of faces, but to Jesus he was loved. He was special. He was not ignored.

Of course, the crowd wasn’t too happy with this. They couldn’t see what Jesus did in Zacchaeus, and from their places of high and mighty stature, they rebuke Zacchaeus, and inadvertently Jesus, saying, “He made the wrong decision. He’s going to the house of one who isn’t important.”

And then Zacchaeus did the unthinkable. He looked into the eyes of Jesus, this person who took the time to seek him out and see him, and made a promise – he would give away half of his possessions to the poor – those that others refuse to see or take care of. Further, he would pay back those whom he had defrauded; four times the amount that he had wrongfully taken from them. And Jesus blessed his response saying that salvation has come to his house today.

Blocking from seeing. Taking time to notice those whom others have ignored. There seems to be this motif weaving through our scripture passage today that leads me to ask the following question: are you helping others see God’s love, or are you blocking their view?

I have to believe that if we have the love of Christ is our heart that we would not intentionally try to keep another person from experiencing this divine Belovedness. But there also seems to be this mentality in our churches today where we are trying so hard to keep our own eyes on Christ that we try to keep the gift all to ourselves. We are missing this great link that Zacchaeus shows us, he sees the humanity of others because someone took the time to see it in him. If we try to keep Jesus to ourselves, then we stop the love of Christ from transcending boundaries into the lives of those around us.

There is one church for every 1, 841 people in Manhattan. And yet the church isn’t reaching out to seek those outside of its wall because it is trying to protect itself. Protect itself from the outsiders, the marginalized, the people with question, and who want to try something new or do something a different way. In trying to maintain the status quo the church has put on blinders to the needs of others. As a result, according to the research laid out in the book, Unchristian, the community of Christ is seen as hypocritical, forcing people to salvation, antihomosexual, overly involved in politics, judgmental, and secluded. Please listen to me, this does not mean that people do not like the message of Christ, it just means that the church is blocking the view of people from experiencing grace and love in a culture where not everyone is as brave as Zacchaeus to climb up into a tree to just catch a glimpse. I think the title of another work about the emerging generation in the United States sums it up nicely, “They like Jesus, but not the church.”

We need to get out of God’s way. When we try to push our own agenda and label it as God’s we block people from seeing grace. When we attempt to get bodies in the pews just to fill them up, we are not acting out of Divine love. When we tell people who they are instead of seeing them as God does, we block mercy. And when we keep to ourselves instead of letting Christ work through us to transform the world, we block hope. And when we insist on blocking people we spiritually die, because we are not breaking open places for others to experience what we have in our lives, the radical love of Christ.

Christian monastic and activist, Shane Claiborne, tells of the following: Whenever someone tells me they have rejected God, I say, “Tell me about the God you’ve rejected.” And they describe a God of condemnation, of laws and lightening bolts, of frowning gray-haired people and boring meetings. I usually confess, “I too have rejected that God.”

Jesus took time to seek out and save the lost. In fact that was what he was sent to earth to do. To find those that society had pushed aside and tell them that they are loved. Albright-Bethune, I ask you are we radically loving those society has pushed aside or are we blocking those around us from seeing the light of Christ? Amen.