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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!

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Not Looking for a Prince


         A friend and I were having a joking conversation the other day about looking for spouses, and he very sincerely told me that he hoped I would find my price. I very quickly shot back that I wasn’t looking for a prince, I was looking for a partner to spend my life with not a fairytale hero.

In the wake of some events that have been taking place in the national media recently, I have been reflecting upon how we seem to set little girls up to fail. We set them up by reading them stories about princes and princesses, in which an overwhelming number of the tale tell of girls needing to be saved. Girls needing a hero. In the stories where the woman is ultimately the hero, she is often portrayed as having weaker characteristics that get her into trouble (think of the foolish decisions of the Little Mermaid a la Disney). We tell little girls that they need to rescued, that they aren’t enough on their own.And we are telling little boys that they need to be heroes. That they have the power and privilege of saving those lesser than them, the women, of their choosing. 

What a tragedy! We tell girls they aren’t good enough and we present a picture for boys that is unattainable, for no one can be the hero all the time. So no, I’m not looking for a prince to save me, I’m looking for a real person to do life with. And there is a very big difference between the two that we are not teaching our children. 

Friday, March 29, 2013

Final Words from the Cross: "It is Finished" and "Into Your Hands I Commit My Spirit" Luke 23: 44-47


For the past five weeks we have been talking together about Jesus final words from the cross. We have discussed Jesus prayer not only for those gathered around the cross, but also for us that we would be forgiven. We have seen Jesus extend himself to those who are lost when he promised the thief next to him that he would be in paradise with him that very day. We heard Jesus give a new model for family as he said to not only his mother and John, but us as well, that this is your mother... This is your son. Jesus reminded us of his humanity when he cried that he thirst. And Jesus told us that he understands even our darkest moments when we feel abandoned when he cried out “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?” This evening we will be hearing Jesus’ final two statements together, “It is finished” and “Into your hands I commit my Spirit.” 
The gospels of Mathew and Mark tell us that as Jesus breathed his last breath that he let out a loud cry, but we must look to the gospels of John and Luke to see what he possibly exclaimed: “It is finished”. Perhaps Jesus was expressing that his life was now over, that his time of suffering was complete. But Jesus’ statement can mean so much more as well. This could also be Jesus exclaiming that his purpose for being, his purpose for dying, was now complete. That what he had told his disciples would come to pass, had been completed. He had done what he had come to Jerusalem to do - to die. 
But what does Jesus’ death mean for us? Why did Jesus have to come to die? What does it mean when we proclaim to people that “Jesus died for you”. The band Third Day has written a love song to us from the perspective of Jesus that explains why Jesus died. “I’ve heard it said that a man would climb a mountain, just to be with the one he loves. How many times has he broken that promise, for it has never been done. I’ve never climbed the highest mountain, but I walked the hill to Calvary. Just to be with you, I will do anything. There’s no price I would not pay. Just to be with you, I will give everything. I would give my life away.” The love of Jesus is a perfect love, a love that we try so desperately to express to each others in glimpses here on Earth, but that Jesus freely offers to us eternally. 
When I was in school I always preferred English to Math and Science. My brothers are great at Math and Science and like how everything seems to add up. There is a balanced equation. But I loved the ability of words to communicate something deeply. To not have to same exactly what you mean. Words have a different science to them then math. While 1+1 has to equal two, and there is always a correct answer, words can be spoken in metaphors. Poetry. Friends, the story of the cross is more like poetry than math. There isn’t an exact science and we may never fully be able to understand it like an equation. There is still the mystery of grace and forgiveness that can be experienced at the foot of the cross, but perhaps not sisinctly explained. We may never understand the fullness of Christ’s love for us, because it is deeper than any love we have ever known. To give one’s life away so that we can be with Christ from eternity to eternity. It’s just too big for our minds to fathom. Yet, when we look at the cross we can see that love in action. The love that proclaimed, “It is finished” so we could now be reunited with God.
While we have to look to the Gospels of John and Luke to see what Jesus said as he breathed is last, Matthew, Mark, and Luke tell us that something profound happened - the temple curtain was torn in two. For those of you who have seen The Passion of the Christ you know what this curtain looked like. It was the heaviest fabric that could be found and it hung from ceiling to floor to separate the rest of the temple from the Holies of Holies, the place where the Ark of the Covenant was kept. This special box held the Ten Commandments, the rod of Moses, and a jar of manna, all reminders of the Exodus story and God’s deliverance.
The high priest himself would only go behind the curtain once a year in order to atone for his sins and the sins of the people. It was believed that this was the throne of God. In order for the priest to enter into the Holy of Holies, the curtain had to be raised, just enough so he could walk under it, and then lowered again. 
One person, once a year, could go into this place designated for God. But with Jesus’ cry the curtain that was so heavy was torn in two. It was a symbol of what Jesus’ death truly accomplished, that people now could be in the presence of a Holy God as a new covenant between God and the people, marked by Christ’s blood, was sealed. We can now come directly before God ourselves, asking forgiveness for our sins, and have God’s grace bestowed upon us. 
After Jesus uttered “It is finished” and the curtain tore, Jesus had one more statement, as he prayed, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Jesus who just earlier that day had cried out of frustration and a sense of abandonment, now put his entire trust in God. This statement too came from a Psalm, Psalm 31, and some scholars believe that it is the prayer mothers would teach young children to pray before they go to bed at night. This would have been their version of “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.” And now Jesus offered this as his final prayer to his Father.
We’ve spent a good deal of time these last five weeks talking about what Jesus was modeling for us, teaching us, from the cross. Friends, when you walk through the darkest valleys as Jesus did on Calvary, do you have the same trust Jesus had as he prayed this final prayer? Do you trust God or do you try to plan and orchestrate to have things go the way you want? Do you try to dig yourself out of the depths or do you pray, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit”? 
And when things are going well, is this the prayer that you pray each and every day? “Father into your hands I commit your spirit”. Another way of saying, God use me and Your will be done. I am a planner. Each day I have a to-do list. My calendar fills up seeming months in advance, and once something is on my calendar I hardly ever change it because I believe in honoring my commitments. I don’t know bout you, but the more I plan the more I forget this prayer of Christ that reminds us that God should be placed first in our lives. God should plan our days and be in control. 
Today, Good Friday, is the darkest day on the Christian calendar. It is the day we mediate on the suffering and death of our Lord, Jesus Christ. But when we look at these final words of Christ, the victorious “It is finished” followed by the tearing of the curtain signifying our new relationship with God, and the prayer of absolute trust, “Father, into your hands I commit my Spirit” we get an inkling that the story is not finished. That after the long day of waiting, something new is about to happen on Sunday. But even if we do not anticipate what is to come, and simply sit in the silence and ponder these words of Christ, there is still hope. There is still meaning and life found in them. Especially if we join Christ in praying them this day and see them as marks of Christ’s deep and abiding love for us. The love that gave up everything, just to be with us. Amen. 

Thursday, March 28, 2013

The Table and Basin - John 13: 1-17, 31-35


The preacher sat a large gift wrapped box on the table. As she pulled off the lid, careful not to jostle the bow resting on top, she explained that God has given us gifts, way to grow closer in our relationship with God. These gifts are means of grace. As objects appeared from the box, there were some that we recognized, a loaf of bread and cup, a baptism shell, but there were many others that we had not considered before as ways to grow in our relationship with God. Among those unconsidered items were a basin, towel, and bowl. 
There is just something about this foot washing story of Jesus that makes us feel uncomfortable. There is something just too intimate about the thought of someone else touching our feet. Revealing this part of ourselves that is often hidden under stockings, socks, and shoes. To have someone else wash our feet just seems to cross an unspoken boundary. Even for the disciples. For as Jesus kneels down, pours the water into the bowl, and moves from one disciple to the next, Peter objects. He knows that it is not the master’s job to wash feet. In fact, it wasn’t even a Jewish slave’s job. It was left for the bottom of all slaves. So Peter objects, “you will never wash my feet”.
But Jesus replies, “Unless I wash you, you have no share of me.” Jesus doesn’t have time for Peter’s objection. Perhaps he is thinking back to the argument among the disciples about who would be the greatest. Or if he simply sighs, wondering when the disciples will learn that they are called to be servants, just as he is being a servant to them. 
There are different stories about foot washing that have come to my mind as I’ve studied this text and I would like to share a few with you this evening. The first is the story of a dear friend. My friend  struggles with the ability to walk. On good days she can use a cane, but at one point and time the good days were far between and she was mostly confined to a bed. Yet, she felt called to go with a mission team from our church to Africa. By the grace of God she was able to go. She wasn’t sure why she was being called to go, for surely she couldn’t do the same physical labor as everyone else. But one night during worship she knew. She managed to situate herself on the floor at the front of the sanctuary during worship and slowly wash people’s feet. She washed our African brothers and sister’s feet. She washed the team members feet. She realized that she was there to humbly serve and give of herself, and she was there exactly for this moment.
When my best friend got married, it was a beautiful ceremony. He and his wife thought out each moment of it - what they wanted to communicate to each other and those surrounding them in love. At one point we began to sing the servant song. You may know it as we have sang it here a few times. “Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you? Pray that I may have the grace to let me be your servant too.” As the congregation sang, the couple took turns washing each others feet - a sign of humility and grace and commitment to each other. A covenant that they would serve each other in their marriage. 

Jesus modeled a new commandment for us. A new way of living that asks us be in a covenant of service and committed to looking after the needs of others. A way of living marked by humility and the grace of God. After he was finished, silence echoing in the air, he asked, “Do you know what I have done to you? As I have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet.” A commission was given.
Part of the ordination process is a time of retreat with the bishop after you pass your first set of interviews and again before you are ordained. As a closing act of worship at my first retreat, Bishop Middleton knelt down on the floor before a chair and invited us to come one at a time to have our feet washed. While the Bishop is not Jesus, I kept thinking of this story in John’s gospel and wondering if this is how the disciples felt. To have their feet washed by the one who was their teacher, their leader. To have their feet washed when really they should be the one’s doing the washing. 
The disciples may not have grasped the holiness of that moment, caught up in their own discomfort. They may not have realized just what Jesus was teaching them. In some ways this sums up Jesus entire being and ministry. Jesus set aside the glory of Heaven to come and walk as a servant among us. They may not have even been able to see the act as being pastoral. They may simply been caught up in how personal it was for them. Yet, we too get caught up in the discomfort instead of seeing the gift that Jesus has given us in the basin and the table. Jesus took the earthy things of this world: food, foot washing, farewells, and loving friends, and used them to speak of the things to come: suffering, death, and resurrection. Like the table he set to communicate a new commandment, a new covenant, Jesus used this act of foot washing to communicate a new way of living marked by humility and servanthood.
Many of us think that we are good at being servants. We try to look out for others who are in need. But how many of us struggle with humility? Struggle with accepting the gifts of service that others offer to us? How many of us would rather be the ones washing the feet then the one’s having our feet washed? 
At annual conference two years ago there was a foot washing. One of the ministers retiring from service stooped down with a basin and towel and washed the feet of one of the one’s being ordained. With this act of love the one washing the feet communicated a passing of the mantle, that just as this generation of pastors has served in humbling ways, so those being ordained are now being called to such service. 
Brothers and sisters, just as Jesus taught us about the new meaning of the bread  and the cup that evening, so he taught us about the new meaning of servanthood. The type of servanthood that lays down one’s life for others. And laying down one’s life is not glamorous. And it often makes other people feel uncomfortable. It is humbling for the one doing and it is humbling for the one receiving. But this is the type of servanthood that Jesus modeled for us and calls us to. Friends, where are you being called to go with this type of service? Where are you to go and carefully, methodically care for the damaged and dirty places in the world? How are you to reach out with this humbling love? 
Friends, part of our communion liturgy that we will take part in tonight says that we feast at the table to become the body of Christ redeemed by his blood and sent into the world. The table tells us what our message is. The basin tells us how we are to lovingly communicate it in a way that brings healing and wholeness. We cannot have one without the other, that is the heart of tonight’s gospel lesson. We need both to feed us and teach us how to follow in Jesus’ footsteps. Amen.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Journey to the Cross - Luke 19: 28-40


Is there a difference between a prophet and a prophesy? A question posed to the Bible Study students at Mansfield a few weeks ago. One insightful young woman braved an answer - a prophet is someone who can prophecy from God. They have the ability to glean insight and speak to people with a message about the future. A prophet must be able to prophesy but not every prophesy comes from a prophet.
In today’s text we have Jesus as king, priest, and prophet. Jesus told his disciples to go into the village and untie the young colt that they will find, one that has never been ridden. And if someone asks them about what they were doing, they would simply reply that “The Lord needs it”. And the events took place just as he had predicted. 
Sometimes the idea of Jesus as prophet makes us uncomfortable. Its not as familiar an image for us as Jesus as shepherd. There aren’t many pictures painted of Jesus as prophet. And even more so, we don’t necessarily know if we want to hear what Jesus has to say. We would rather have prophets be remote figures from the Old Testament, or people that we shy away from today. But Jesus was a prophet. He not only spoke about what the disciples would find in this particular situation, but the death that he would face as well. Jesus has the power to predict future events, just as the prophets of old.
And Jesus also came to fulfill what the prophets said of him, the messiah, the chosen one of God. Riding into Jerusalem we can hear the echoes of Zechariah, Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” And Jesus quotes directly from the prophet Habakkuk when the Pharisees try to silence him and the crowd saying, I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out. For Luke, Jesus is a prophet because he fulfills what is said about him from the prophets who came before and Jesus fulfills what he says about his very self. Jesus redefines the office of prophet. For how many prophets truly predict what is going to happen to themselves? And for how many of those who do, does what happens to them change the very course of the world? Jesus is a new type of prophet, a role that he can only truly fill, because he both proclaims the word of God and is the word of God in the flesh. And now the Word of God is once again entering into the life of the people, the lives of those who seem to just keep missing the point, in order to reveal to them who God is and what the Kingdom of God is about. 
The people expect Jesus to be their king, but for Luke Jesus’ kingship is not quite what the people are looking for. The disciples want someone who will free them from the grips of Roman rule. They want an insurrection. No wonder the pharisees fear Jesus’ presence and try to silence the crowds. They fear that Jesus may be who the crowds say he is. They fear what will happen on the eve of the Passover celebration - their opportunity to retell the story of God’s freedom. The people are looking for a new Exodus, and they want Jesus to be their leader.
But Jesus rule and reign is not of this world. Its not about conquering Rome or defeating Pilate and his Roman army who are entering into the city to make sure an insurrection doesn’t take place. Jesus’ is the king of the Kingdom of God. Which surpasses Roman principalities and rule. He will judge the ends of the earth. But he is also a humble king, who comes into Jerusalem not upon a horse, but a colt. Not with an army, but amongst disciples singing the Psalm of Peace, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” But the people cannot recognize the peace that he brings, because they are looking for peace as they define it, freedom as they define it. They have no peace in their hearts, so they cannot recognize the peace Christ brings. And because they have fear in their hearts instead of peace, they will be lead to chants of hate and death by the end of the week instead of this Psalm. There is no peace in Jerusalem this week. Between this procession and the crucifixion. Between the rulers of this world and the King of God’s reign. 
Once again, not only the crowds but the pharisees misunderstand Jesus’ peace. They hear the Psalm, the very Psalm they have studied and taught about, as a chant for war, a political chant against the empire. So they hush the crowds. But Jesus replies that if the people are silent even the stones will cry out. Jesus knows that by the end of the week the crowds will turn from him and his most intimate friends will flee into silence to protect their own lives. But even if this crowd is silent, God will reign. Even if he faces an unspeakable death, God will reign. The Kingdom of this world will not silence the cry of the Kingdom of God. 
While the people recognize Jesus as King, he is entering into Jerusalem to fulfill his priestly duty. Jesus has come to offer himself as a living sacrafice to cleanse us of our sins. He has come to die so that we may live. And because of this Jesus is the mediator between God and ourselves. Sometimes in the midst of the Palm Sunday story it is hard for us to look ahead. We like the joy of this Sunday and next. The joy of the procession of Christ and his resurrection, but the sacrafice in between speaks of Christ’s love for us. 
Christ as prophet, king, and priest. Christ entering into Jerusalem amongst “a whole multitude of disciples” who wanted him to be something else. Friends, are we like those multitudes? Do we pick and choose who we want Christ to be in our lives and try to contain him to our will and image? Does Jesus version of peace that makes us choose between love of God and love of nation make us uncomfortable? Do we want a humble King or a strong ruler? Do we want to hear what the Word made flesh is trying to tell us or see the love that he displays for us on the cross?
All too often I think we are like the crowds that day. Letting our own wishes and anxieties dictate who we want Jesus to be. Looking for the peace outside of ourselves, while our hearts rage with mistrust and misunderstanding. But Jesus rode into Jerusalem that day confident in who he was and what he had to offer. He didn’t change himself to fit into our molds. Rather he came as priest, king, and prophet to show us the word of God. To teach us about heavenly peace. And who proclaims that this life does not have the final word. For the peace of Christ cannot be divorced from the hill to Calvary, and his message and sacrafice cannot be silenced. For Jesus in his completeness tells of the reign of God. Amen. 

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Thank You’s and Complaints


This week I received several thank you’s in the mail from church and community people. While they were beautifully written they gave me pause. Some were for things that I actually had done - and thus the thank you was meaningful. Some were for things the lay members of the congregation had done but I was being thanked for. That made me much more uncomfortable, as if I was getting credit for their hard work. But how do you send a thank you back and say “sorry, it really wasn’t me”?
This lead me to think about the unparalleled number of times I have been complained to and about. Sometimes rightly so. Sometimes for things that other people have done. This is not the type of authority we discussed pastors having in seminary. Being thanked and blamed for things that they did not do, but are associated with them by virtue of their leadership in the church. 

Let me start this next thought off by clearly stating that I do not think that pastors are Jesus, but I wonder if this is the same type of blame that Christ gets when his followers behave badly. When Christians give Jesus a bad name. How can we teach people to separate Christ from Christians during those times when the two just don’t jive together? 

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

The Value of Being Sick


No one likes to be sick. Being tired, the aches and chills, having a fever, not being able to breathe properly, its not a fun experience. Yet I am finding that more and more people are interacting with others (and lets call it what it is - infecting others) because they feel that they cannot take a day off of work. Cannot miss whatever they have planned for a day. 

In early February I was at a conference in DC and my roommate came ill. And because I am a a magnet for germs, I ended up with the flu. I could tell that something just wasn’t right in my body, but I tried to push through to the end of the conference. I didn’t make it. Thankfully there was a huge snow storm predicted for my part of the East Coast so I left early. And I spent the next four days in bed. I missed a church service for my first time ever as a pastor (not due to vacation), which I felt horrible about, yet there was no way I could preach - I lost my voice and was visibly ill. 

When I finally felt better, I did something foolish and worked an 11 hour day. Not the best idea. I ended up back in bed on and off for the rest of the week, only attending those meetings and events that were absolutely necessary.
Was I happy about being sick? Not at all. I had a list of things to attend to that I simply couldn’t. Yet that time in bed, not being able to work as I would like taught me an important lesson - I don’t need to do everything. And I don’t need to follow my schedule exactly. But I know many colleagues who have not had permission to learn this lesson. This past weekend I was at a retreat where one of the leaders came sick. He didn’t need to be there. He wasn’t teaching that at that particular retreat. Yet, he felt compelled to be there, as if his absence would be unacceptable. The participants spent the weekend trying to avoid him as he sniffled, coughed, and generally looked ill. 

Why do we come to work sick? Why do we insist on doing the things we do not feel up to doing? I think its because we like the feeling of being indispensable. We want to feel as if we are needed and that things cannot possibly continue on with out us. But are these thoughts true? Are we so desperately needed that we cannot let our bodies heal? Are we so indispensable that we cannot hand our tasks over to someone else or let them be until we feel better? Are we really our own worst enemy when it comes to how we perceive ourselves and define our value? What lessons do sickness have for us as we are forced to rest?

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Introvert in the City


I recently was trying to explain to a friend the freedom that I feel in the streets of New York City. In response I was asked how I could possibly like the city as an introvert.
The question gave me pause, and I started to reflect not only on my own sense of freedom, but also what I means to be introverted versus extroverted.

When we get right down to it  - people simply do not know what introvert and extrovert define. These words capture personality traits and are meant to define how we  become recharged as well as what drains us. However, we often confuse these traits with behaviors associated with how we interact with people. For example, people tell me all the time that I must be an extrovert because I like to talk and I am energetic. They expect all introverts to be shy. And yes, while it is true that I am a high energy person who can interact with people, it is not my favorite things. I am not a fan of large groups, but I can still handle myself in them. However, when I leave a social setting I am drained. After Sunday services I know that I need a nap. There is nothing wrong with that. I simply know that as an introvert, in order to recharge I need solitude.

And perhaps for me that is what the city offers. Solitude. Its an odd thought isn’t is? That a place with so many people could be one of being alone, yet that is exactly what it is for me. It is a place where people do not know you and do not expect to get to know you. They leave you alone. You can simply be yourself and get lost in the sea of people. People are not going to try to become your new best friend or insist on talking to you on the subway. You are free to be you and not interact with others.

While that may sound harsh, there is a flip side to being in the City as well. Some of my closest friends live there. Those friends that know you so deeply they can tell what you are thinking just by looking at you. You do not need to explain yourself, but they give you permission to talk if you need to and be silent as well. I would classify this as authentic companionship. Not masses of people trying to get to know you or imposing themselves on you, but friendship on the deepest level. Perhaps a level that cannot ever be fully described or known. And that is why the city refreshes me. It offers simultaneous companionship and solitude, something that I have not found in any other place. It restores my soul and is a place where I am invited to be most authentically myself. Introvert and all. 

Monday, March 18, 2013

Walking in the Labyrinth



This week during confirmation class the students had the opportunity to walk a labyrinth. As one of the leaders for that section I was blessed to walk it 4 times in an hour. I was amazed how with each trip, even with such short time in between, there was a new message being spoken, a new insight being gleaned. 

For those who are not familiar with labyrinths, they are an ancient tool for prayer. It is like a maze, with the notable exception that there isn’t a way to get lost - there is only one path to follow. And you are supposed to slowly work your way through. Often you enter into the labyrinth with a question, reflecting upon it and listening for God as you go. However, for me I like to just enter in and hear what God has to say.

The first time I had a lyric from an old hymn that kept going through my mind. “Assist me to proclaim.” I am reminded every day that this is a vocation I have been called into by God and that I cannot do apart from the grace of God. This Sunday after worship I had a gentleman who has only been to the church a few times come up to me with a word of blessing - stating that every time he has wondered in that the exact word for his need has been spoken. In response I told him exactly what I felt - that it was only by God that was possible. Its by God’s spirit that we are lead to where we need to go, and to what we need to say, and what we need to do. Do we always get it right? Of course not. Probably far too often our very selves get in the way. But if we look to God to assist us, to lead us, the fruit is ripe for the harvest.

The first time through I was also the last one to go. Which means I was the last one to exit. It was amazing to have a group of teens sit in silence and watch you navigate slowly through the path. For a while, when I first noticed that I was the only one left, it was a bit nerve racking. But then I realized that this was a gift. The gift of solitude in the midst of people. 

The second time going through the labyrinth I entered in with the common phrase/ prayer “Come Lord Jesus” and immediately I perceived, “I am already here”. We pray for the Spirit to come, but how often do we look for the Spirit to already be before us, already be working in our midst? There is an old prayer that says, “Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ above me, Christ below me, Christ beside me” - yet we only look for Christ where we have seen him before instead of looking for his leading and presence in every aspect of our lives.

The third time, I kept noticing the others praying their way through the labyrinth. They passed me. We could seem to be right beside each other but really we were in completely different places, sometimes even going opposite directions. During this time, one of my toddlers from church was going through the labyrinth with his mom, who had graciously set it up for our use. He reached out for me at one point and touched my hand. It was beautiful that even on the path we still have so many others that we are with, even if just for a moment in time.

The last time, I once again realized what a gift this time was, for it allowed me to slow down. To go at a pace that is contrary to how I normally go - rushing from one place to the next. From one person who wants my attention to the next. This was my time with God to be the focus of all of my attention and energy - so much so that I ended up with a line of about five students behind me - all following me and having to move at my pace. They were following my lead on their own journeys, which is such a testament to what it means to be a servant leader. 

Sunday, March 17, 2013

John 19: 28-29 "I Thirst"


To be thirsty. It represents one of our most basic human needs - for water. Fluid, especially water, is essentially to life. While people can last weeks without food, we can only live three to five days without water. In fact, when people are dying, they stop eating, but they are still thirsty. In the midst of so many profound statements that Jesus makes from the cross, this one seems simple, mundane, and very human. He was thirsty.
Each of the gospels have a different account of Jesus being offered wine to drink during the crucifixion. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus was offered wine with some type of poison (gull or mhryh) when he arrived at Golgotha, which Jesus refused. Why would Jesus refuse to drink this wine laced with chemicals to help ease his pain and speed up his death -  because he was choosing to suffer. Choosing to bear the entire weight of the punishment for our sins. The magnitude of the suffering he endured also allowed him to understand any type of suffering that we may go through in life. Jesus choose to undertake it all and face the suffering of death - the punishment for our sins - head on. If any of Christ’s disciples want to claim that following him is simple or easy, they only need to Christ’s example on the cross to see how false this notion is. Christ took the hard way even though he was given an alternative. How often do we instead look for the easiest way instead of perhaps the way that Christ is calling us? 
When I consider the depth of what Christ was communicating two quotes immediately come to mind. The first is from Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Less Traveled”: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” Jesus took the road of pain, suffering, and brokenness. He took the hard way, but he did that for us. What an amazing statement of love. The second quote is from G.K. Chesterton who wrote, “the Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found difficult and left untried.” Brothers and sisters, Jesus told us in the gospels that if we are to be his disciples we must pick up our crosses and follow him. And when Jesus spoke to his followers about his impending suffering he talked about the cup that he was to drink from, asking them if they could drink from the same cup. That is difficult. It is inconvenient. But it is the way that Jesus modeled for us.
This semester, the students at Mansfield have chosen to study the book of Revelation in bible study. While the book is filled with things that have captured the students attention, one of the topics that generated the most discussion was the church of Laodicea being described as lukewarm, neither hot nor cold leading Christ to spit them from his mouth. Another way to describe being lukewarm is being a fair weather disciple. Jesus, by modeling for us what it means to suffer and choose the most difficult path, calls us to be disciples who are sold out, not fair weathered, in our faith.
The gospel of Luke gives a different account of Jesus being offered wine. The soldiers offered him sour wine in a mock gesture, as if knowing that he was thirsty, but holding the wine just out of reach. Toasting him as they cried out “Hail, King of the Jews”. Can you imagine desperately wanting water, but not being allowed to have it. It’s like the line from the Rime of the Ancient Mariner: “water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink”. Yet another harsh punishment inflicted  by the cruel hands of the guards that day. 
The last statement about the wine Christ is offered is found in the gospel of John and is today’s text. In this account Jesus stated that he was thirsty and was offered wine in return. Yet in two short verses John communicates so much to those hearing this account. First, the text states that Jesus said that he had thirst in order to fulfill the scriptures. This was probably alluding to another Psalm, just as last week we heard how the cry “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me” comes from Psalm 22. The Psalm being fulfilled in today’s gospel message probably came from the 69th Psalm, where it is written for my thirst they gave me wine with vinegar to drink. Sour wine, or cheap wine, was what was available to the poor and the Roman soldiers. Adam Hamilton proposes that it would be equivalent to drinking basaltic vinegar. Not great tasting, but better then nothing.
Second, the wine was given to Jesus by being dipped in a sponge attached to a piece of hyssop. Hyssop is a small bushy plant. Affixing a sponge to it would be difficult and it would possibly be hard to have it reach far enough to quench Jesus’ thirst on the cross. But this is not the only time hyssop appears in scripture. Think back to the Exodus the story, the story that had just been retold at the Passover celebration the day before. When the final plague, killing the firstborn, was to strike Egypt, the Israelites were instructed to use hyssop to spread lamb’s blood above their doorposts so the plague would pass over them. John also uses the title “lamb of God” to describe Christ, reminding us that he is the new Passover sacrifice. The new source of our salvation. The beginning of a new covenant between the people and God.
In our Lenten Bible study this past week we got into a discussion about how much we miss out on in scripture because we don’t know the things that would immediately be brought to mind for those hearing. Those things that are so innate to a culture that they do not need to be expounded on. Psalm 69 and the meaning of the hyssop branch in the Exodus story, just celebrated the eve before, are among those thing. But just as much as their are hidden aspects to scripture, things that we do not fully understand in our day and age, there are other things that are so blatant that sometimes we overlook them. And this scripture above all communicates that Jesus had the same basic needs as us. He was thirsty. He was human.
Thats one of the paradoxical beliefs of our faith - fully human and yet fully God. John is writing to an audience that had some people who believed that Jesus disappeared before he died. Or that he was replaced on the cross by someone else. John is stating that it truly was Jesus who died for us. He was thirsty like us and died like we do. Because if he wasn’t fully dead then he could not have been raised back to life and we would not have hope in the same resurrection. 
Friends, stop and think about it. The one who said that he came to bring life giving waters was thirsty. The one who was and is and is to come was thirsty. The one who bore all of the weight of our sin on the cross was thirsty. Think back to a time when you were thirsty. A time when the lack of water to drink seemed to mock you. A time when you would have given anything for a cup of cold water. Jesus felt that. He was thirsty. 
At the end of each week’s bible study this semester the students are asked where they find hope in the scripture we are studying and what they are going to take away with them for the week. Friends where do we find hope in this scene of Jesus dying? Where do we find hope in his thirst? We find hope because it reminds us that he was human as well as divine. And that he died the same death we will die some day. And we will be raised with him in the resurrection. All because Jesus choose to follow the hard path to the cross. 

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Uniqueness of Vocation


One of the things I love about being a pastor is that you are invited by God into the vocation as a way to be wholly yourself. In other words, you are not asked to change your personality or apologize for who you are or how you do things because you are called at you. Or at least this should be one of the best aspects of ministry. Often congregation members will expect you to be the last pastor or their favorite pastor. But a few weeks ago I had a whole new experience in disregard for our uniqueness in this vocation from an unexpected source - another pastor.

When asked what I had done the previous day and what I was doing that day, I spoke about going to funerals. Not officiating at funerals, simply going. One was for a man I dearly cherished at a local care home and while I was not his home pastor, I had been a pastoral presence in his life. That day I was going to a viewing for the sister of one of my congregation members, a woman I had never met. Yet, I felt called to go to this particular viewing and the funeral the following day. Do I always do this as a practice - go to funerals for those whom I did not pastor or even those I did not know. No. But I felt that it was the right thing to do in that moment. Call it being lead by pastoral intuition or the Holy Spirit, it was where I was supposed to be. And the other pastor looked at me like I had three heads and spoke to me in a tone that indicated that I was doing the wrong thing. The result - I started to doubt myself. This person had been in ministry much longer then I had. But in the end, I did what I felt called to do, and it was the right thing. I knew it with the embraces I received from my congregation members. Their words of deep appreciation. I knew it when I was able to share stories about the man I knew from the Care Home. I just knew. And as I sit down and reflect upon this several days later, I knew that I needed to trust myself. I knew that I am called as a unique person to a particular place and have to make decisions each and every day about how I will live into my calling. How I am to be a pastor. It may not look the same each day or even with every congregation member. But I need to trust that the Holy Spirit will lead me to what is uniquely right, just as I am uniquely called.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Random Thoughts


       Random Thought #1 - Several times over the last few weeks I have had friends and colleagues comment about how well I pay attention. Usually it is in reference to remembering details - remembering what they said they would be doing that day even though they mentioned it last week, remembering the decisions we made at a meeting a month and a half ago, remembering obscure details about people or situations. I remember odd things, little things. Details. Dates. Decisions. As I sat down to think about why this could be, I realized its because details are based on paying attention to another person and what they are saying. To be in relationship with them, even if it is just for a moment, and it becomes deeply imbedded in my brain. I also am a person who learns best, not by experiencing, but by reading or hearing. But paying attention is also a curse in some ways because I want other people to be able to remember things, too. I want people to remember important things I tell them (when really those things may be important to me, but not them). And I want other people to remember decisions we made at meetings and what they are supposed to be doing between one meeting and the next. So this leads me to ponder, how can we live into our blessings while not imposing them on others as expectations?

Random Thought #2 - My continuing education class last weekend was hard, particularly because the topic is about things that are important to me. Things that have shaped who I am. Things that I have experienced. And it drove me crazy that the presenter, someone who did not have these experiences made assumptions and vague statements that seemed condemning at best and invalidity my experience at worst. Example: we were talking about self-care. For me this is the topic that never goes away and everyone insist on bringing up. Is it important? Most certainly. Do I need to hear about it at every continuing education event or meeting I go to? No. Further, to have someone who is not a clergy person tell me how a clergy person should do their job does not sit well with me. This is one of the few professions (along with teaching) where everyone feels that they are free to tell you what you should do and how you should do it, which is not helpful. If anything its demeaning. Its completely different when someone who is in the profession corrects you or shows you signs to watch out for. They’ve been there. They are living the reality with you. Further, the presenter not so subtly said that women need to take care of themselves more than men in this profession. And that did not sit well with me. We all need to take care of ourselves, it is not gender specific or exclusive. This is only one example of some of the assumptions and statements that made me unhappy.

Random Thought #3 - Why can’t people seem to communicate better? I am most often accused of being blunt when it comes to communicating, which is very true. But my blunt and honest nature often makes me unable to understand those who skirt topics or don’t say what they mean. Or people who refuse to communicate what they need out of fear of hurting another person. Or fear of being rejected themselves. Is it possible that we actually model for others how to communicate poorly? How can we learn to be honest with ourselves and each other and find freedom in honest conversation upheld by integrity. 

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Teacher as Storyteller or Storyteller as Teacher?


              I sat in class and cringed. The presenter was reading off of the sheet word for word and then referenced an article which was read word for word. This painful style of teaching went on for over an hour. But when came next might have been worse. He began to tell stories. Stories that even though they happened to him, he had no ownership of, as the word “ummm” was constantly interjected as if he had lost his place or forgot what came next. The stories were filled with details that were unnecessary and made the story much longer then necessary. You got so lost in the details that you couldn’t see the connecting point that was trying to be made. It was if the story was told to fill time more than be an example. Or worse, as if the stories were being shared for the validation of the teacher instead of the benefit of the student.

Part of preaching is storytelling. Preachers retell the Bible story each week and then pick out other stories that illustrate points or help congregation members find themselves in the text. Storytelling can be transformational and it is critical to some of my favorite forms of Bible study including Wisdom’s Table and Soul Stories. But storytelling can never be for the sake of the storyteller, at least not in teaching. If it is simply the teacher being a storyteller the value of the story is lost inside of self-indulgence. But if teachers transcend themselves and see storytelling as a tool to help transform their students, transform their congregations, then storytellers become teachers. Lessons can be found and people can relate to what is being said. Stories are told for the value of another, and as such details are trimmed that block people from seeing themselves in the story, and they are presented clearly. The storyteller becomes a vessel instead of the subject. We need more storytellers in the church, those who seek to reach others, instead of simply hear themselves speak for the sake of speaking. 

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Newsies


        A few weeks ago Cat and I went to see Newsies as a belated birthday present. What always strikes me about Disney productions in any form is their ability to speak on so many different levels. On one hand it was a cute show for kids, but on the other hand it is a powerful political statement about the injustices that existed prior to child labor laws and still exist today in different forms. It put faces to the idea of the exploited and the exploiter. Also note worthy is the fact that the Newsies first attempt to strike did not go well. But the more they expanded their efforts and invited in different ideas, perspectives, and participants the movement changed and was ultimately successfully in a variety of venues.

But what struck me the most, as a pastor, was the role of the Church in the strike. The nuns were willing to provide for the Newsies needs, providing coffee and food, through acts of charity, but when it came to actually changing the system that necessitates the acts of charity, they were absent. For far too many churches this is also true today. We are good about giving things away, be it food, clothing, or shelter, but we aren’t as equipped or perhaps even willing to do the hard work of addressing those conditions that make inequality exist. We don’t want to move from charity to justice. Now this is not to say that charity isn’t good and necessary, because it is, but we need to be able to simultaneously provide charity while working towards justice. No matter what the cost. No matter what personal demons we have to face as we realize how we may be part of the problem as individuals or an institution. And not thinking about whether we will be on the winning side before standing up for what is right.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

The Scraps


I goofed up at the cluster Lenten service this week. I was supposed to read from Mark 16, but was a good deal into Matthew 16 before I realized I was reading the wrong thing. Matthew 16 is one of those passages of scripture that I really struggle with. In which a woman who was not Jewish comes and begs Jesus to heal her son, leading to a very uncomfortable conversation about how even the dogs deserve scraps.
The idea of thinking of oneself as a dog. As one who only gets the left overs. The scraps. And to have Jesus taking part in that conversation has some ugly implications. But when read with Mark 16, which speaks about Simon the Cyrene being tapped to carry Jesus’ cross and the Roman centurion who was able to declare that Jesus truly was the son of God, the idea of scraps took on a whole new meaning. Are there ever really scraps with God? Or are even the littlest bits of faith and tasks given by the Lord life changing? Simon carried Jesus’ cross and it is believed that his life was so changed by that event that one of his sons went on to be a critical member of the early church whom the apostle Paul praises. The Roman centurion found faith a the foot of the cross. Once again, is anything ever really small with God or is only our own perception of the Spirit that limits us? 

GBCS


In early February I had the opportunity to gather with other young clergy to become familiarized with the General Board of Church and Society of the UMC in Washington, DC. For non-Methodists, GBCS tends to be the most criticized of the general boards and agencies of the UMC, mostly because people do not agree with some of the positions they take. However, it should be noted that all of the positions reflect what has been adopted by the General Conference of the church. So perhaps it could better be stated that people object to either the church speaking out in a way that backs their own positions or that people just don’t know that such positions exist.
Being at the GBCS building for four days made me extremely proud to be United Methodist. I am not a very political person, at least in the traditional sense of the word. However, I believe in supporting people as a church, which can be traced back to the original greek part of politics, polis. To be at the building, which is the only non-governmental building on Capitol Hill, reminds me that the UMC cares deeply for people. That we speak out for those whom do not have lobbiest to represent them. We are being the church in a very non-traditional way. And that what we say matters. We are part of a denomination that thinks outside of the box, when we are at our best, in how to transform the world. And that makes me proud. 

Monday, March 11, 2013

In This Together


         Last week I found out that I was approved for ordination which was exhilarating. Honestly, I was so convinced that I was going to be extended on one section because of the tenor of the interview that I had to ask the registrar to repeat herself. It’s amazing to think that this is the culmination of a six and a half year journey. 
However, at the same time it was bitter sweet. I have been blessed to have been commissioned as a provisional elder with perhaps the best group anyone could ask for. We covenanted to meet together with each other’s mentors. To check in. To pray for one another. And this was all above and beyond BOOM’s requirements. Out of our class of six, two are being ordained this year. To know how badly those who are close to you want something and we’re told “not yet” is heart breaking. 
In the flurry of emails that went around after we were called with the results of our interviews the line that kept coming up was that we are in this together. We celebrate with those who are being ordained. We wept with those didn’t receive the news they so desperately wanted. And we regroup to help each other through this in any way we can. How many people can say they have a group that loves and supports each other in this way in any aspect of their lives? I consider myself blessed just as much by our reaction and care for one another as by the news of ordination. I look forward to being in ministry with this group of close friends for years to come - because we truly are in this together. 

Sunday, March 10, 2013

My God, My God Why Have You Forsaken Me - Mark 15: 29-36


There came a point when Jesus had enough. After being beat, tortured, hung to suffocate,  and stripped of clothing. A moment that came after those around them, those who may have even heard him speak words of peace before, mock him and misunderstand his words. A moment that came after the religious leaders lead the crowds in taunting him and spitting on him. A moment that came after the darkness that covered the land for three hours - the darkness that reflected the sin in the hearts of those who gathered there.
Before we start claiming that we would never act like the crowds did that day, remember that it was normal, synagogue going people who were mocking Jesus. It was people who studied their scriptures. People who had just celebrated the deliverance of the Israelites on the highest religious holiday - Passover. These were not the worst of the worst who were trying to break Jesus’ spirit that day. No, it was people who got caught up in the mentality of the crowd. 
One of my family’s favorite shows to watch is The Big Bang Theory. It’s based on six scientists who are self-proclaimed geeks, and a woman who is trying to become an actress but is currently working as a waitress. During one of the episodes two of the female scientists were talking about what it was like growing up and being bullied. At first as they talked, the waitress claimed that she used to be the one who did less than charitable things to other people, but that they wanted those things done to them so they could be part of the group. Later she realized that the group had swept her up and made her act contrary to her beliefs, the group had made her a bully. 
We probably all have stories of being bullied or of bullying others. Stories of just trying not to get picked on by other kids so we pick on others. And for far too many people, this behavior doesn’t end in the school yard, but extends in our adult lives to the workplace. And sometimes even the church. It really isn’t that difficult, is it, to see how normal people got caught up with mocking Jesus that day. The more they mocked, the more they distanced themselves from him and the punishment he was receiving. They were trying to protect themselves by hurting him.
If it still difficult for you to imagine how every day religious people could seek to harm Jesus with their words and actions, just think of some of the things that you have had other Christians do or say to others in public. We only need to think back to a few weeks ago when a pastor made headlines by refusing to give her waitress a tip at Applebee’s by writing a less than kind message on the receipt. When we do not get our way or are unhappy, all too often our sinful human nature takes over and we try to dehumanize or break the spirit of another person. At times all of our hearts have the same darkness as those in the crowd that day.
And finally Jesus had enough and cried out in a loud voice, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Imagine that you are Jesus. Your body in heavy as your lung fill up with fluid. Yet even as he is dying his voice burst forth with these words. The only words that Mark and Matthew record him saying at all on the cross. Words that reflected a feeling of abandonment and despair. 
These words can sometimes confuse us. Especially since we believe that Jesus and God had an intimate relationship. And that Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit are three in one, and one in three, our basic Trinitarian theology. But somehow that day, Jesus felt like he was alone and cut off from his Heavenly Father. 
But have we not all felt like this at one time or another? Have we not all experienced a time when we feel that the God who loves us so deeply and has claimed us as children has forgotten us. Has abandoned us. Times when others have humiliated us. Or we just cannot find it within ourselves to pray. Times when loved ones die or we face an unexpected diagnosis or set of circumstances. Times when God just seems silent. But because of Jesus proclamation that day on the cross we can say that Jesus understood us fully, Jesus understood even our darkest moments. Jesus surely knew that God was with him that day, but in his heart he felt like we do at times, like he was all alone. Jesus’s cry reminds us that we have a King, we have a Lord, we have a mediator who understands us fully. Who has walked where we have walked and felt what we have felt. 
Jesus also reminds us of what sacred so many in the crowd that day - our faith requires sacrificial love. Our faith asks us to pay a dear price. Sometimes we forget that our faith costs us something too. Our faith requires obedience, faithful living. It can causes us discomfort when we share about it. It requires us to give up what is dear to us. During the season of Lent we are not only reminded of the cost of what Jesus did for us, but also the cost of our response. The sign outside of the church near my family’s home described Christ’s sacrifice as priceless, in quotation marks, so far this Lenten season. The sign reminded me of not only the deep cost that Christ paid, but the cost and the risk of being counted as his disciple as well. 
For those around the cross that day, Jesus’ crying, “My God, my God, why have your forsaken me” would have immediately reminded them of the 22nd Psalm as religious people. Adam Hamilton writes that this Psalm would have been just as familiar to the religious crowd as the first line of the hymn Amazing Grace would be for us today. Jesus only said the first line of the Psalm, but the rest would have been recited in the heads and hearts of those gathered. 
When I worked at Hershey Medical Center as a pastoral intern, one of the floors I was assigned to was Medical Intensive Care. This was the highest level of intensive care offered and many in the unit never left. In the early morning hours one day I was paged into the room of a patient who was dying. I asked the family what they would like to do to help their loved at this time and they decided to sing Amazing Grace. As we sang, the dying man was still able to mouth the words with us. He knew them that well in his heart and mind. 
Just as Amazing Grace cannot simply be quoted in one line, so Psalm 22 is not summed up only in the first line Jesus quoted that day. The Psalm describes the despair David felt as he was being pursued by his enemies, but it ends with the statement that he still trusted in God. As much as Jesus was saying about feeling abandoned by quoting the first line of the Psalm, he could equally be asserting his trust in God, even in the midst of feeling God’s absence. Even in the midst of death. Do we have this same level of trust and confidence in God, even when we feel forsaken and abandoned? 
A few years ago the Christian Rock group Third Day released a song entitled “Cry Out to Jesus”. It spoke to those who often feel abandoned by Christ - those who have had a loved one die, to those carrying heavy burdens and deep pains, for those struggling in their relationships, for those with addictions, and to those who are lonely. The chorus encouraged those going through times when they feel hopeless and broken to “Cry out to Jesus”. We can cry to our Lord because of the words he spoke from the cross. Because even he had a breaking point. Because he has felt the sting for  humiliation as those whom had praised him earlier in the week now sought to break his spirit. Jesus knows what we are going through. He has walked the same dark valleys that we have walked. And he understands the cost of our faithful discipleship. Jesus also reminds us to trust in God in all circumstances, as he ultimately looked to God that day. Next time that all you can do is look up at the sky and cry, “why God?” remember that Jesus has been there, and that we have a King who understands and cry out to Jesus. Amen. 

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Seeking after God - Isaiah 55: 1-9


I recently had someone ask me what the busiest time of the year was for me as a pastor, and without missing a beat I replied Lent. This is the time of the year when we all should be slowing down and reflecting upon God, yet sometimes it seems like we are just running from one thing to the next without really having time to seek the face of God.
Yet that’s exactly what today’s scripture passage invites us to do. To seek God’s face and be filled. Isaiah is speaking to a group of exiles, trying to bring them hope and proclaim God’s salvation to them. He is speaking to those who are becoming discouraged being in a foreign land amongst people who do not believe what they believe. And to these people who yearn for God to save them, the prophet proclaims, “everyone who thirsts, come to the waters.” Come seek after God and be filled. 
I attended a small Christian college a few hours from here, which required attendance at chapel three times a week. Usually we had speakers and sang hymns together or celebrated Holy Communion, but one service I remember in particular was praying through song. We spent our hour together singing and reflecting on what we had sung in silence. One of these songs of prayer was called “Invitation Fountain” and the lyrics had a profound impact on me. “Let all who are weak, all who are weary. Come to the rock, come to the fountain. All who have sailed on the rivers of heartache, come to the sea, come on be set free!” Friends, the invitation to come to the waters and seek after God are just as much extended to us today as they were to the people of Israel. And that is truly what the season of Lent is about, seeking and finding. Realizing that God’s ways are above our ways. Stopping and sitting in the silence listening to the voice of God. To cease striving for the things that cannot last and do not truly satisfy. 
Whenever I hear this text from Isaiah my mind goes to the Samaritan woman at the well who encountered Jesus one day. She listened to him talk about this water that will satisfy so you will no longer be thirsty. God is offering us that water still. The water that quenches our very spirits, from everlasting to everlasting. Yet, all to often we reject what God is offering us in our haste to get to the next thing. Or we don’t realize how truly thirsty we are. We forget that what God is offering us is truly the best. Offering us living water from the fountain of life that will not run dry. 
For when we run from one thing to the next looking for satisfaction, looking for truth, looking for meaning, we will never find what we are looking for. Never find the water that fills our spirits. The water that is freely given and can be freely received. For that water can only be found in the presence of a Holy God. The one whom the prophet tells us to seek after. May we allow God to draw near to us this Lenten season. May we repent of all of those times that we have neglected what God has offered us. May we seek after the one who invites us to come. 

Sunday, March 3, 2013

"Behold your mother... Behold your son" John19: 25-27


There is an old spiritual, “Cross-Cry” that embodies todays scripture lesson. The song starts out, “I think I heard him say, when he was struggling up that hill, I think I heard him say, ‘Take my mother home.’ Then I’ll die so easy, just take my mother home.”
Take a moment and imagine that you are Mary, the mother of Jesus. You deeply loved your son, the one whom you bore on the behalf of God. Now you can only stand by the cross and watch him die. Surely you try to be strong for your son, but even in his dying moments he looks out for you, cares for you, as he asks one of his disciples to take you as his mother and asks you to take him as your son. 
As you watch your son’s agony through the tears streaming down your face do you think back to the words of the angel when you concieved him, “Fear not”. Yet there is so much fear in your heart right now that is breaking for your child. Was this really what God asked you to go through so much for - for this moment? Would you have agreed to carry him if you knew that this is how it would end? No mother should ever have to watch her child suffer this way.
During Advent we talked spent a good deal of time talking about what Mary experienced through her agreeing to carry the Christ child. The public shame, rushed wedding, and the unexpected circumstances surrounding her delivery. We talked about her faith and her strength. Yet, during this season of Lent, we barely mention Mary at all.  But the gospel of John tells us that she was there at the foot of the cross that day, along with the other Marys, to be a strong, loving presence for her son, even in his death. Mary was present at the beginning and at the end, being one of the few who actually had the courage to be by Jesus. Oh how difficult this must have been for her, as a mother. 
Mary the mother of Jesus, the one who told the angel, “Let it be with me according to your word”, had to watch as her Son fulfilled the same promise that she made so long ago. He too had told God that whatever the will of the Father may be, he would follow. Mary knew the cost of such a vow herself; the pain she must have felt in watching her son fulfill this part of his calling.
I am not a parent myself, but parents and grandparents have told me time and time again that the hardest thing you have to do is watch your child or grandchild suffer. You would give anything to ease their pain. You would die for them. Oh how Mary must have felt the same way, yet she could not subsitute herself for Jesus that day. For some reason, the church has been guilty of not considering Mary and her humanity in this situation. She carried this child in her womb. He was blood of her blood and flesh of her flesh. She felt the same intimate connection with him that mothers feel with their children. Yet here, all she had to offer was her support and consolation as her flesh and blood gave himself up for our salvation.
It is not surprising Jesus, the one who gave himself up for us, was concerned about his mother that day. So just as Mary reached out to console him so he tried to console her. In a day and age when women relied upon their husbands and then their sons to care for them, Mary seemingly had no one left. Joseph is more then likely dead and Jesus is now dying on the cross, so who would care for this woman who had bore the Christ child once he had departed? And so Jesus asked the only male disciple who was mentioned as being at the cross that day, the beloved disciple, to care for his mother. And he asked his mother to accept John’s care for her. Jesus was not trying to substitute John for himself, rather asking them to form a new family that would enable his mother to be honored. To make sure that she was cared for. 
In the congregation I served in State College there were several families present who were refugees from Hurricane Katrina. But they were not just necular families, rather extended families. With mothers and fathers coming to live with their grown children, and grandparents coming to live with their grandchildren. When I asked a few congregation members about this sacrafice of love for family, they replied, family takes care of family. The elders of their family were honored, especially in their most desperate time of need. Do we live like this too? Do we live in a way that honors our mothers and fathers to the best of our ability, just as Jesus did as he hung on the cross?
But Jesus saying “Behold your son...Behold your mother” was more then just modeling for us how to care for our biological families. It was showing us how to care for our church family. One scholar wrote that these words of Jesus, “represent the way that family ties are transcended in the church by the ties of the Spirit.”. 
One of my favorite times in our worship service together is the sharing of joys and concerns. It is not uncommon for people to praise God for the gift of this church family and the way that we care for one another, especially in times of need and celebration. While we may not realize it, this is our church community living into the words of Jesus to Behold our son, behold our mother. We are family, and family cares for family. When I walk into a care home or a nursing home, I see staff that treat patients with the love and care of family. This is Beholding our mother. When I hear about teachers that are deeply concerned about the needs of specific students, this is beholding our sons and daughters. Brothers and sisters, please listen to me, not everyone does this. Not everyone beholds others as their family, but we, the church, are challenged by Jesus to do so in any way that we can, by this statement from the cross. For we are family, and family cares for family. 
As beautiful a statement as Jesus is making out of concern for his mother and creating a new sense of family, this statement still saddens me. It still makes my heart ache that Mary lost her child, but it reminds us that many walk among us today who know the pain of Mary. Who have watched their children die and now carry on their legacy. For Mary’s story does not end here. She is mentioned several times in the book of Acts as one of the disciples gathered in the upper room during Pentecost and one of those who prayed for the release of Peter. She carried on the mission and message of Christ, even after Jesus’ death. 
Mary stands as a testament that God walks with us through the darkest valley, especially the valley of the shadow of death. Mary suffered, yet God called her to use her suffering for the sake of the Church. Mary’s message and ministry did not end after she gave birth to the Christ child and it did not end that day as she suffered at the cross. She lived into Jesus’s statement to behold her Son as she cared for others, just as John lived into beholding her as his mother. 
We too are to care for each other. Care for those who are suffering, and care for others out of our suffering. We, as the church, are to behold our mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. May we embrace this community of family and extend it to all in need, and in the words of the spiritual, “Take my mother home.” Amen.