Author Archives: raspberryman

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About raspberryman

I am a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada, serving a parish in Ottawa Ontario. I am a husband, father, and admirer of the Ottawa Valley. I enjoy beaches, sunsets and waterways. I like to write, reflect theologically and meditate in the Christian tradition.

The dust of life

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I remember when confetti was no longer allowed during weddings. The church cleaners would otherwise be logging in long hours trying to vacuum those little pieces of coloured paper out from the carpets in the sanctuary.

Those who grieved the passing of the confetti era have a point. Because confetti symbolizes something more than just a mess. When it is a mess with intention, it is a celebration of life.[1]

We may not at first associate the ordinary, simple, mundane aspects of life as worthy of notice. Perhaps it is more a question of focus. Like with confetti – do we see the unbound joy of love in throwing bits of paper over the bride and groom; or, do we see in the confetti an egregious mess waiting to be cleaned up?

On Ash Wednesday, we have to deal with a bit of mess when getting some ash on our foreheads. Of course, this symbol draws our attention to our own mortality. Dust we are and to dust we shall return. We turn our attention thereby to the frailty and finitude of life. And this isn’t a bad thing in and of itself. Because death is the one inevitable of life.

But we must learn how to live with it. How can we think about death when may not know how to live?

In the same chapter from which we read the Ash Wednesday Gospel, Matthew records what Jesus says in the face of the mess of life and an uncertain future.  He draws our attention to common, ordinary things. He turns our gaze towards flowers and fowl. Consider the lilies, they don’t sew or spin but are clothed magnificently. Consider the birds, they don’t plant or harvest, but are fed and cared for.[2]

We might add: consider the confetti at a party. Or, consider the ash placed on your forehead. Frivolous, we might think. Unnecessary. We can do without. 

And yet, we know that the measure of our days is rarely determined in the mind-boggling adventures some are fortunate enough to embark on. Rather, when we remember the lives of those we love it is often the small, simple ways they went about the world that live on in our memories.

The focus our God calls us to is life. The purpose of Lent is life, and our journey towards life abundant which will necessarily involve some loss, some pain. But then, what is the focus? What will our God have us see?

Mangrove trees are normally fresh-water plants, I read. But they are now found living in a tidal river flowing into the Coral Sea in North Queensland in Australia, a body of water which is salt water. How have they survived? How have they lived?

“In the service of survival, they have developed an elaborate root system that filters out much of the salt contained in the river water before it can kill the tree. When excessive salt still threatened the life of these trees, they somehow devised a means to guide the salt to particular leaves, which then turned orange and fell off the branches. These came to be called the ‘sacrificial leaves.’ They died that the tree might live.”[3]

Jesus announced his purpose and mission on earth when he told his disciples that he came so that we might “have life, and have it abundantly.”[4]A momentary affliction of loss has not the final word. “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”[5]

The message of Ash Wednesday is inherently a positive message of hope, a call to persevere, and a challenge to risk losing in the sure promise of finding something better on the other side. We cannot bypass the way of the cross. But we go on this journey now assured that life, and life abundant, for us await. That is the focus and the aim. It is about life.

In the small, ordinary, sometimes frivolous acts, in the common, daily experiences of living. “How do we live?” ought to be the focus question during Lent.

Be intentional and pay attention enough to ask the cashier how they are doing, when the lines in the grocery store are long.

To relish in deep breaths when the air is finally warm enough outside it no longer freezes our lungs on the way in.

To say ‘yes’ to more snuggles and one more hug when our children request them.

To say ‘yes’ to resting and taking space when our bodies tell us that’s what we need.

In full view of death, we walk a path on which we show up to life. Trusting that the small things matter, or at least that their frivolity is not completely in vain. And we shall live, living in ways that will attract life and give life to the world.

[1]Thank you to Megan Westra for her thoughtful and moving blog for Ash Wedesday (“Confetti Wednesday” at https://mailchi.mp/d6a0d42b1af8/confetti-wednesday?e=8e6a7196da)

[2]Matthew 6:25-34

[3]John Shelby Spong, Unbelievable: Why Neither Ancient Creeds Nor the Reformation Can Produce a Living Faith Today (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2018), p.87

[4]John 10:10

[5]1 Corinthians 15:54-55

Pastor’s Annual Report for 2019

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What is our narrative at Faith Lutheran Church in 2019?

The word, ‘narrative’, means story. In this Annual Report, which catalogues and describes events and figures from 2019, you will find our narrative, our story.

But let me encourage you to read everything between the covers of this Annual Report. In other words, you can’t just read a part of it or only one or two of the documents you find in the table of contents. That is, if you want to get the whole story.

It’s like eating your favorite hamburger. The overall taste is what makes it such a great hamburger compared to others. You won’t get it by only eating the tomato, the relish, the mustard, the bun or even just the meat – and leaving the rest out. It’s all about sinking your teeth into the whole of it that you can say: “This is the best burger ever!”

The whole story includes the numbers and the words. The whole story includes the pictures as well as the tables of data. The whole story includes even items that you would not normally ‘eat’ on their own. Eating curry paste by itself can be a harrowing experience. But mixed in just right with other ingredients, it can make a meal a wonderful thing.

So, I encourage you, in these pages to digest its entire contents, ponder the ‘big picture’ and take it in as a whole. Then, you might get a taste of the narrative that is Faith Lutheran Church in 2019, and beyond.

The narrative of loss

2019 for me was marked by personal loss, especially at the death of my father and former pastor of Faith, Jan Malina. I experienced much love and support from parishioners and friends in the community. It is one thing, over twenty-two years of ordained ministry, to offer others support when they lose a loved one; it is quite another to be on the receiving end of the care and grace given by others when I couldn’t function in that helping role. Thank you. 

Besides the number of funerals experienced in our community in 2019, the year also saw another kind of loss. After nearly a decade of serving as primary musician at Faith, David Santry took leave of us to pursue music ministry in another congregation. We say goodbye to him with sad hearts for we miss his energy, skill and dedication to our community.

The narrative of gain

Highlights in worship over the past year, for me, include the Good Friday worship service done in conjunction with Cityview United Church – whose liturgy included a physical moving about our sanctuary and ended in the sanctuary at Cityview; and, whose theme focused on the Stations of the Cross vis-à-vis the environment and the world’s sin today. We continued to build our relationships with other local congregations such as Julian of Norwich Anglican evidenced by another strong turn-out at our annual joint Christmas morning worship service.

As well, a baptismal service in October stands out for me, when we joined hands in a circle around the sanctuary passing a ribbon and singing “Bind us together, Lord, bind us together in love.” Music continues to be a strong element defining our identity and passion in the congregation. 

What worship experiences stand out for you, in the past year?

A narrative of gain was also evidenced by welcoming new members, a trend which continues into the new year. As well, for the first time in at least three years, the budget of 2019 posted a healthy surplus.

A financial narrative

A narrative approach tends to combine what is sometimes deconstructed. For example, we normally separate the finances from everything else. We keep the numbers to the end of the report. And sometimes these are not even included, due to timing challenges, until the last minute, and on separate photocopied documents handed out at the annual meeting. I don’t offer this as judgement but merely as exposing our bias towards keeping certain items separate.

Normally we have kept a separate record of ‘outside charity’ donations, and outside the budget. Our missional activity, recorded in this way, tells the story of members’ activity apart from the operational and functional work of the church.

Yet, from a narrative approach, if members of Faith value these outside charities, I have to ask, then why is this activity not included in the budget? Why do these efforts of the Faith community not belong in the big picture of how we spend our financial resources? Separating these individual interests are from the budget proper, suggests the only thing we are committed to do together, is take care of ourselves — our own internal needs in maintenance, building and salaries. I know that is not who aspire to be. Because there is over $21,000 in 2019 that individual members donated to outside charities and missions that is not accounted for in the budget.

Our purpose, narratively speaking, is not to direct traffic for these other charities. It doesn’t make sense to involve Faith merely as an administrative intermediary for other charities that issue income tax receipts themselves. What resources we do have need to be channelled towards mission initiatives which we commit to, together. These mission initiatives can be what we have historically supported and have formed our identity as a congregation in West Ottawa and a member of the Eastern Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada (ELCIC).

And these ministries and mission initiatives, in this view, need to be integrated into our narrative, including the financial structure of our mission and work. Let me mention just a few that might be incorporated into our budget (and not left outside of it), such as Lutherlyn Camp & Conference Centre, Algonquin Campus Ministry, the Ottawa Lutheran Refugee Sponsorship Committee, and the Ottawa Mission. You will notice that Carlington Chaplaincy has historically remained within our budget, and has been the only exception. 

What would you add to this ‘mission’ list? What are mission initiatives that our communitycan rally around, ministries in the community and in the world that reflect who we are and where we have come from (i.e. our narrative)?

Presenting a narrative tends to integrate all these elements into a wholistic approach. Some written reports about programs and ministries, you will notice, include financial costs involved in exercising that particular ministry. I hope you can see the integration of costs as exercising quality programming. In other words, there tends to be correlation between level of financing and quality of ministry. This applies as much to Christian Education and Pastoral Care programming as it does to paying the organist.

Bringing it all together

The entire Scriptures reflect the grand narrative of God’s relationship with God’s people – from the creation of the world to the story of God’s people under kings and prophets, to the story of Christ with us and for us, in the early church all the way to a vision of God’s kingdom and God’s future which is good.

May how we ‘do church’ in the coming decade celebrate the narrative of who we are, in this time and place in history. Even when it comes down to the nitty-gritty of budgets, updating constitutions and submitting these reports every year. We need to present who we are to the world in a compelling and accurate way that tells our story, and makes the case why they would want to support us with their presence, commitment and dedication. 

Stories come to an end but – from a faith perspective – do they really? A narrative is not something that ever ends. It remains open for interpretation. Throughout this introduction to your 2019 Annual Report, I have left you with a couple questions, to fill in the blanks. Because you, the reader, are an important part of the ongoing narrative. We write our story together, not apart. 

What will you say about our narrative?

Respectfully submitted,

Pr Martin

Jesus face -book

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With the explosion of social media over the last fifteen years more and more middle-aged people have been using Facebook. It’s an understatement to say we have all been on a steep learning curve to figure it out, especially in establishing healthy boundaries and being careful about what we reveal and what we interpret about others via social media. 

Because the truth is, people use Facebook in various ways:

Some only post photos. And maybe only photos of grandchildren and family members at special events. Others will post photos only when on vacation or when travelling. I tend to be in the foodie group, posting mostly when visiting a restaurant with friends or family.

Then there are those who will only ‘share’ what other people post – memes or inspirational sayings, or witty quotes. And/or some will only write blog-style commentary on political issues. Others will treat Facebook like a daily diary, posting what they ate for breakfast and complain about the late-night noise their neighbors made during last night’s party.

It’s telling what your Friends on Facebook don’t post about. Few will reveal everything about their lives on social media. In fact, you are warned not to draw conclusions about your Friends’ lives based only on what they post. You see only a slice—a small part—of their lives.

When we forget this, and presume that what they post represents exclusively what is important in our Friends’ life, we get into trouble. Our relationship with them will suffer when misunderstandings result in presumptions about our Friends’ lives drawn from only one, revealed slice of the pie. We need to be careful on social media about how what we see reflects the truth of our Friend’s life.

The gospel accounts of the Transfiguration of Jesus vary. We see different slices of the same pie, different viewpoints, from Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

Matthew and Mark offer very similar accounts[1]. Almost word for word, these Gospel writers describe the spectacular events atop the mountain: Jesus brings his disciples. He is transfigured before them. A cloud appears over them and out of which God’s voice speaks. Peter wants to build dwellings. And at the end, Jesus instructs them not to tell anyone until he has been raised from the dead.

But while both accounts describe the transfiguration by mentioning Jesus’ clothes turning a dazzling white, Matthew alone adds a particular detail, that Jesus’ face shone like the sun. And while both accounts point to the disciples’ fear, Matthew adds comforting words from Jesus encouraging them ‘not to be afraid.’ And, while both include the disciples’ query, after they come down the mountain, concerning Elijah, only Matthew adds an interpretation linking Elijah to John the Baptist.

The Gospel of Luke emphasizes prayer as a context for what Jesus was doing during his transfiguration[2]. And while Jesus was praying Luke draws our attention, like Matthew but unlike Mark, to Jesus’ face. But unlike both Matthew and Mark, Luke does not mention at all the latter discussion about Elijah. 

And finally, the Gospel of John doesn’t even tell the transfiguration story. Some, however, will argue that John 1:14 is John’s way of including the meaning of the Transfiguration: “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son full of grace and truth.”

Each account talks about the same event in a different way. Each brings a unique aspect, perspective, on the story. Each reveals a different point of view, which is its own view from a point. 

It’s not that one is right and another is wrong. Getting distracted by this method of study is not helpful. Trying to reconcile and account for all the differences can lead us down rabbit holes not worth pursuing if it only leaves us mired in endless debate, division and mental conflagrations.

The wisdom of those who put the bible together can be appreciated here. There is diversity built right into the bible. Those who put the compilation we call the bible together—it is more a library, after all—knew that the more that can be described about Christ the better. It gives readers multiple access points to gain a deeper understanding of the mystery that is Christ. 

The way to resolving the problem with Facebook – when we think we know someone’s life only by what they post – is to get to know your Friend more. Better face to face, or some direct contact. And, more to the point, deepen your understanding of your Friend beyond what Facebook reveals, or doesn’t reveal. 

They say the truth of the matter is revealed more in what is not said than what is. It’s the pretext, or reading in between the lines. If what you see gives you only one slice of the pie, one aspect, of who that person is, then you are called to go deeper, to learn more about the other aspects of your Friend’s life: what is important to them, what they value, who they truly are.

Learning Jesus is one of the habits outlined in Michael Frost’s book, “Surprise the World: The Five Habits of Highly Missional People”, which we will study during the coming season of Lent. Frost suggests that we need to develop a greater understanding of Jesus. Not merely ask that arm’s length question: What Would Jesus Do? But rather, delve into what Jesus would do and who he would be here and now.[3]

We are called to know Jesus, to learn Jesus, to immerse ourselves in Christ, soaking up the Gospel and digesting its meaning. In so doing we enter into a more constant state of awakened, intimate presence. We are awake, and present, in Christ, to all that we encounter and do in our daily, common existence.

The season of Lent just around the corner, is a good time to resolve to get to know our Friend—what a Friend we have—in Jesus. In the contemplation and commitment to action that Lent calls forth from us, we journey together into these forty days, knowing if nothing else at the start, that Jesus walks with us no matter what.

[1]Matthew 17:1-13; Mark 9:2-13

[2]Luke 9:28-36

[3]Michael Frost, Surprise the World: The Five Habits of Highly Missional People (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2016), p.73-74

Un-exceptional good

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A friend gave some advice to a couple on Valentine’s Day — to do something special but without having to spend a whole lot of money.

“Just go to one of those card stores in the mall, and give each other all the time needed to peruse the hundreds of Valentine’s Day cards on the display racks. When both have found their favourite card with the perfect message to their loved one, each takes turns reading the card to the other.

“And then put the cards back on the display rack.”

An exceptional strategy of showing your love? Or, not?

The president of Princeton’s Theological Seminary was coaching pastors and congregations in how to build lasting and durable relationships.[1]In other words, he was giving advice on the art of making friendships and successful working relationships in the church, relationships that would stand the test of time.

You’d think that in order to form these relationships—at the attraction stage, the beginning especially—you would emphasize and focus on what is ‘exceptional’ in the other. You’d search out the strengths, you’d highlight the giftedness in each other, you’d try to seek to understand, if possible, how the person is exceptional in some way. These positive traits, you believe, provide the groundwork, the framework and foundation for building a strong and enduring relationship, wouldn’t you say?

They are a good cook. They are exceptional public speakers. They can fix anything. They are wonderful people-persons. They are passionate and gifted in making crafts. They are the best listeners, and most compassionate. They have the best bed-side manners. They are musically talented. They have such a quick and sharp mind. They are so physically fit like no other. Money is no limit to expressing your love … Exceptional!

And yet, despite our drive to show our exceptionalities, we eventually confront a truth that we cannot deny: No matter how hard we try to make these connections work, before long relationships will disappoint in some way. Especially if we’ve focused exclusively on how exceptional we are. And, especially in crisis when our first impulse is to show off and boast of the good. Eventually, the wounds in us will emerge. We can’t hide them forever. They will show.

This rather absurd, counter-intuitive advice that I heard from the Princeton Dean of Theology can be summarized as such: You don’t focus on what is exceptional in building relationship with the other person or people, you embrace and accept what is un-exceptional. What is not exceptional, then, forms the basis of a lasting relationship. 

Whenever we suffer in relationship, is it because we refuse to stop trying to hide our woundedness, I wonder? The crisis, does it not stem from the ways we try to mask our insecurities, our fears, our anxieties? The crisis, does it not come from our avoidance of seeing the harsh truth of ourselves and our situation? Are we so afraid of simply being who we truly are with each other that we create a problem that becomes harder to deal with the longer the pretense lasts?

We all carry wounds which go deep, and with which we have lived since our childhood. Jean Vanier, the founder of L’Arche community, suggests these wounds are so deep we cannot fully escape them over a lifespan, try as we might.

These wounds were evident in the church Paul founded in Corinth.[2]The people of Corinth, it seems, wanted desperately to belong and to be part of a community of faith. Yet they were divided into rival groups, some belonging to Apollos and others to Paul. They must have had Protestant blood flowing through them! When you have a rivalry, you defend who has the better plan, who is stronger, who is more exceptional. In Paul’s view, this rivalry betrayed a misunderstanding of the Gospel.

So, how do we learn to walk with our wounds that go deep? And be faithful to God, to each other and to ourselves?

“Jean Vanier tells the story about a severely disabled man named Daniel, whose parents did not want him. So, he ended up in one institution after the other. Even after becoming a part of L’Arche, a community that specializes in helping people like Daniel, he would hide his anguish .. 

“As Vanier puts it, ‘He felt guilty for existing, because nobody wanted him as he was. What we must do,’ said Vanier, ‘is walk with the wound instead of fleeing from it. We cannot accept it until we discover that we are loved by God just as we are. And that the Holy Spirit, in a mysterious way, is living at the centre of the wound.’”[3]

Paul talks about the crucified Christ who identifies with us and who carries our wounds. It is in the love of God within and for us, just as we are, that we can learn not to avoid but to walk with our wounds and each other’s woundedness.

And this is how relationships endure. Not because we fixate on how exceptional we are. But rather accept how unexceptional we are. This is not only how we endure but how we grow. Because we are no longer ruled by fear of our humanity. The image Paul uses for this kind of growth is a horticultural one: “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” (v.6). And, then, again: “We are God’s field …” (v.9). Notice the gardening, planting, growing images here?

There is a place that ecologists identify in a field, the place in a field that is most fertile and life-giving. This area is called an “ecotone”, the special meeting ground between two different ecological communities such as, for example, a forest and a meadow, or two different types of flowers or grasses.

In other words, you have to go to the edge of some kind in order to experience the most fertile and life-giving space in your life. Ecologists go so far to describe the ecotone as the “pregnancy of edges.” It’s the place with the greatest possibility for growth.[4]

Where two different entities, two different living beings meet. Life-giving relationships of growth are not found in places where everyone’s the same, but in spaces where difference meets. Where in your faith might be the fertile place where you encounter the edge effect? Where do you go to experience God’s love amid your woundedness to give you healing and life?

Baptism is one place. Renewing our identity in Christ. Affirming our belonging to the living Jesus. Baptism is also the place where we ask who we really are. In the waters of baptism we honestly confront our limitations, and feel the discomfort of confession. We may doubt our lives are worth anything seeing our failures and expressing our woundedness. We confront here our identity crisis. We are at the edge. We may feel like drowning in the waters.

But at the edge, we are also ready to take a step towards life and new growth. It is the place pregnant with the promise of healing and renewal. It may be the place of tears; it is also the place for new found joy. We come up out of the waters to breathe the air and renew our life.

In relationship building we must embrace our wounds to go into the depths of our being where Christ’s love abounds. It is the way of the cross. And then we see it all around us: in the spouse who tenderly cares for his wife in the Alzheimer’s unit of the hospital, the child playing video games on an oncology ward of the Children’s Hospital, the mother raising four kids on her own, the middle-aged addict finally reaching out for help that is willing.

God’s love abounds. New life and true relationship form and grow, forever. We come up out of the waters to breathe and renew our life.

[1]Craig Barnes preached a sermon at the Festival of Homiletics in Denver Colorado in 2015 for pastors and congregations seeking traits in each other that are unexceptional – contrary to the norm. By implication I apply his specific context to the broader dynamic of how relationships form and endure, regardless of the kind of relationship.

[2]1 Corinthians 3:1-9

[3]Cited in Roger J. Gench, David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, eds., Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary Year A Volume 1 (Kentucky: WJK Press, 2010) p.350-352

[4]Gench, ibid., p.352-354

True worship: more than me

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I have always received the words of the prophet Isaiah in chapter 58 as promise and hope for me — especially in challenging times of transition, disappointment and failure. That, despite all the difficulties I may face, God’s promise is true: The Lord will satisfy my needs in parched places and I shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water whose waters never fail … I’ve received this text personally, a prayer recognizing growth in me.

And yet, understanding a little bit the context of the prophet’s words, I must confess it isn’t just about me. Even though the people of Israel were entering yet another disruptive time of transition — journeying back to Jerusalem following their turbulent Babylonian exile — the prophet’s words pull them beyond self-preservation.

You’d think amidst the turmoil of life they would be encouraged to circle the wagons, to take care of themselves, to look out for their own self-interests and take care of their own first. But the Hebrew Scriptures reveal a constant social ethic: to take care of the widow, the refugee and the hungry — time and time again.

An important dimension of faith calls us beyond individualism to extend our vision beyond the needs of the self. From ancient times, people of faith were called to “share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house.”[2]A living, growing faith happens when ‘spiritual’ things have something to say about and do for the betterment of others, especially the disadvantaged, the poor, the refugee, the homeless and the hungry.

Every Sunday we pray for a country or group of nations somewhere in the world. Specifically, we pray for Christians living in those nations. We join on the same day with a world community committed to praying for the same countries.[1]It’s like we are all holding hands, linking arms, to form a giant circle of prayer holding a specific group of Christians and peoples from a particular part of the globe.

In doing so, we hopefully grow in awareness and knowledge of the situation facing Christians in especially unstable regions. In recent years, the Ottawa Lutheran Refugee Sponsorship Committee has supported the refugee claims of some people from Eritrea. 

In Eritrea today, the two state churches are Lutheran and Orthodox. On the surface, you might say, that’s not bad. Christianity has an established presence there. The state tolerates people gathering in churches to worship. 

But, I learned, you are not allowed to own a bible or be seen reading it in Eritrea. And the only way the worship service can happen is if the sermon is vetted and deemed permissible for preaching. The state determines what is said. Quality control. Why?  So that nothing will be said that could be construed as criticism of the political status quo and those in power. Is this freedom? Or, persecution?

There is something fundamental to the Christian faith that will at times engage politics, criticize and speak out against injustice. Regardless of which country, which party in power, and wherever in the world. And when you disallow such free, political discourse, even from the pulpit but more importantly in the practice and demonstration of faith by Christians in their daily lives, then you are missing something critical about being a follower of Christ Jesus.

Wading into the social and political discourse causes friction among people with differing opinions. Normally we have operated according to the dictum: church and politics don’t mix. While maintaining thus a semblance of harmony, we have not learned how to have a political conversation. We have not been able to talk about political injustice and how to relate with the poor. We have lost the ability to act together in mission.

How will we begin?

Paul in his letter to the Corinthians expresses the importance of a humble stance when demonstrating our faith in concrete behavior, and in our relationships with one another and the world. In his letter to the Corinthian church, Paul writes, 

“I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. … Yet among the mature we do speak wisdom, though it is not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age … But we speak God’s wisdom, secret and hidden, which God decreed before the ages …”[3]

This humble stance distinguishes us from the usual style of political discourse where there needs to be winners and losers, someone’s always right and someone is always wrong, where the louder ones get heard, where ego-tripping and glory-seeking normally define the behavior.

Humility is not often associated with seeking justice, even by passionate, justice-seeking Christians. But the wisdom which God decreed from before the ages suggests a humble stance. How can we nurture this stance in our lives? Maybe start with humility.

Last week, I told you about what Howard Thurman discovered at the tree line high up in the arctic. It seems suitable today to continue using imagery of cold, snow and winter. We can relate! Beyond the tree line, it was mostly just barren, snow- and ice-covered fields. But he also, at first, identified shrubs. These were low-lying, earth-hugging, scrappy-looking tuffs of green dotting the landscape ahead.

But upon closer inspection, Thurman noticed that the needles on these shrubs were similar to the needles on the trees behind him on the tree line. Pursuing a hunch growing within him, he begins wiping the fluffy snow on the ground in front of the shrub where he discovers roots. 

But they are not roots. They are branches leading all the way back to the tree line! The branches of the trees have found a way to live beyond the tree line. They have grown by extending their ‘branches’ along the ground erupting periodically on the barren landscape appearing, at first glance, as shrubs.

The point is, Thurman had to re-think his first impression. He had to change his mind about what appeared very clear to him, at first. He had to admit that his first thought was not his best thought. 

This is a little example of what is meant by the biblical term ‘repentance’, or metanoia in its original Greek. It means, change of mind. Change our thinking about something we first thought was true. 

Our first thought is not always our best thought. Our compulsive, reactive impulse do not yield the best from us. Our initial instinct might not always be the full truth of it. If Christians are to be political in word and deed, better to start with a humble heart. 

Isaiah reminds us that when we lead with love and grace on behalf of the poor, then light shall rise in the darkness, then our light shall break forth like the dawn. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer. The Lord will satisfy our needs in parched places and we shall be alike a watered garden, like a spring of water whose waters never fail …Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.[4]

I am grateful that we live in a country where our Christian worship and prayer is truly public in nature. All are welcome. We gather where people of faith can speak and act humbly in the public square, where faith and action are allowed and where we can exercise our faith in freedom. Where following Jesus affects our lives not just on Sunday but every day of the week. And grow into the fullness of God’s purposes for us, individually and as a church.

[1]https://www.oikoumene.org/en/resources/prayer-cycle

[2]Isaiah 58:7

[3]1 Corinthians 2:1-3, 6-7

[4]Isaiah 58:10-12

funeral sermon for a mother

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We’ve come to this point in time to remember a young lady who was with us for what would have been 93 years in a couple of weeks. Violet – Mom, Grandma – touched the lives of her family and friends as no one else could. And for that reason, she will be remembered long after our time here.

When your mother dies, major changes happen, at first perhaps imperceptible. Like the tectonic plates shifting deep beneath the earth to forecast a major geological event on the surface, a maternal loss affects those left behind, like no other loss.

The one who birthed you, who physically released you into the world, who literally spilled blood for you, is one who has made an indelible mark on our soul. And when she no longer occupies space and time in our lives – even after nine decades—a huge shift occurs, and we feel deeply, sharply, this loss.

Others have described this special relationship with our mother that refuses to end: “She’s the beginning and she is never the end. She starts and then she endures. She is the wisest of all creatures, carries you wherever she needs to be herself – feeds, clothes and proudly places your distorted drawing of an elephant on the refrigerator door; the ‘Hall of Fame’ in every home.

“She’s your mother. No matter her achievements or accomplishments outside the home, whether in a big or small job, her dying thought will be as ‘mother’. She creates as God creates, she sustains as God sustains, and she is sometimes not at her best, as God has also shown us about Himself.”[1]

So, we’ve come to mourn our loss. While the immediate family will probably notice the loss more physically, each one of us here will also mourn in our own way. It’s okay to mourn, to be sad. We can do so with full assurance because it was Jesus who told us, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”[2]

And as I pastor, I want you to know that God is not immune to our emotions. In Christ Jesus, God already knows what we, in our humanity, are feeling. Because God feels it, too. God knew the pain of death. On the cross, God knew, fully, the brokenness of our humanity.

But God also knew new life. On this day of mourning, we also affirm the resurrection. And so, it is okay—also—to celebrate the life of Violet which has no end. A life which started on earth and a life that endures through eternity.

Bishop Oscar Romero once said, “We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.”[3]

You have described a development, of sorts, in Violet’s own life on earth with us. You pointed to an aspect of her character that stands out – her giving, compassionate, caring nature. She was always ready to help.

And then, let’s say in the last twenty years or so, when she moved into the Redwoods kitty-corner from where we are today, you noticed a shift. She had started in the latter part of her life to ‘receive’.  That is, she started looking out for her own needs, too, asking – and maybe at some points even demanding – that someone help her.

And that’s not altogether bad. For it is in giving and receiving that we experience all that is good and right, in life. Especially at the end of a journey, when the gate of death looms larger on the horizon, we must be practiced in letting go. Should we experience ‘a good death’ as they say, we need to be able and willing to release our grip and fall into the loving arms of someone else. To depend on them. To trust in them. To help you.

Today, Violet rests in the bosom of her saviour. She walks with Jesus beside the still waters and along paths true and safe. And she continues to receive the constant loving attention and care of a God she followed her whole life long.

[1]Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS “Funeral Sermon for a Mother” (wordpress.com, January 20, 2015)

[2]Matthew 5:4

[3]Cited in Jagodensky, ibid.

Perseverance – the Beatitudes in a word

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Downstairs in the church kitchen just above the sink, hangs this sign with the words: “Blessed are they who clean up.” An encouragement this is, no doubt, to wash up dirty dishes with soap and place in the cupboards when finished.

But are these words more than encouragement?

Indeed, the Beatitudes which form the first part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel[1]are often treated as commandments. We read them as rules for living. And rules demonstrate a reality that we have not yet achieved, a desired reality that is beyond our present circumstances. And a reality that we must work towards by following the rules.

Dirty dishes left in the sink is not the desired reality. A clean kitchen is. So, get to work!

Last week, after Jesus called his first disciples, he went throughout Galilee teaching and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God.[2]In these Beatitudes, now, we encounter precisely what constitutes the kingdom of heaven on earth. And it isn’t about following rules.  

For one thing, the bible isn’t a rule book with lists of commandments and directives for living. Its original writers were not products of our 21st century bias towards a rational logic based on a cause-effect, either-or, legalism. For the most part they didn’t write in order to tell people what to do, but rather to describe the kind of relationship we might have with the God of truth and love.

Besides the laws we read, especially in the Hebrew scriptures, we have to acknowledge the Bible contains other forms of writing: For example, there is rich narrative. There are stories and parables. There is history and sermon. In the bible’s pages we also read beautiful, image-rich poetry and incredible visions of the future.

The Beatitudes fall under the latter categories of the poetic variety. These are not expressed as rules; rather, as a vision of God’s faithfulness to the people of God. They describe what faithfulness between God and human looks like.

In order to understand what these Beatitudes mean, I suggest we consider other images—of the poetic variety—that could convey the meaning of the Beatitudes. In this way, we remain true to the original spirit and style of Jesus’ preaching in the introduction to his lengthy sermon on the mount.

Thomas Merton, born 104 years ago yesterday, and whom many consider the father of contemplative Christianity in the modern era, wrote: “Nothing has ever been said about God that hasn’t already been said better by the wind in the pine trees.” Like Merton, let’s use the metaphor of a tree to describe something that is true about our walk with God.

Twentieth Century African-American author, philosopher, theologian, educator, and civil rights leader, Howard Thurman, in his Meditations on the Heart, describes his journey to the tree line near the arctic circle. There he makes a startling discovery about the trees:

“It was above the timber line. The steady march of the forest had stopped as if some invisible barrier had been erected beyond which no trees dared move in a single file. Beyond was barrenness, sheer rocks, snow patches and strong untrammeled winds. Here and there were short tufts of evergreen bushes that had somehow managed to survive despite the severe pressures under which they had to live. They were not lush, they lacked the kind of grace of the vegetation below the timber line, but they were alive and hardy. 

“Upon close investigation, however, it was found that these were not ordinary shrubs. The formation of the needles, etc., was identical with that of the trees further down. As a matter of fact, they looked like branches of the other trees. When one actually examined them, the astounding revelation was that they were  branches.

“For, hugging the ground, following the shape of the terrain, were trees that could not grow upright, following the pattern of their kind. Instead, they were growing as vines grow along the ground, and what seemed to be patches of stunted shrubs were rows of branches of growing, developing trees. What must have been the torturous frustration and the stubborn battle that had finally resulted in this strange phenomenon! 

“It is as if the tree had said, ‘I will not give up. I will use to the full every resource in me and about me to answer life with life. In so doing I shall affirm that this is the kind of universe that sustains, upon demand, the life that is in it.’”[3]

Thurman’s description captures for me the essence, the feel, of what Jesus’ beatitudes represent. And, one very strong feel about these Beatitudes is the quality of perseverance that marks our relationship with God, and God’s relationship with us.

Our life with God is anything but passive. To stay the course with God requires perseverance, dedication and faithfulness. It is not to give up when the going gets tough. It is not to throw in the towel when the stress of living bears down.

“Blessed are you when people revile you…” Walking the path of Christ will invite scorn and judgement from a culture disinclined to Christ-like living. Yet, we are called to persevere on this simple but difficult path.

Whenever I watch footage of hurricanes slamming Caribbean island coast-lines, I am amazed at the resiliency of those palm trees on the beach. Storm surges wash away and erode shorelines. Untrammelled winds assail and play havoc with anything not bolted down and boarded up. Destruction follows the wake of these tempests.

And yet, the palm tree remains. How? Its capacity to be flexible, to bend, even so the branches on its crown may touch the ground. The strongest of these palms, the ones that have encountered and survived many storms over decades, have learned this art of living well: not to be so rigid so as to snap when the storms first hit; not to be so unyielding when the environment changes. To be able to move when necessary. And, therefore, to live.

Why the Beatitudes present such a challenge for us, is because they suggest a different kind of ‘knowing’ when it comes to God and our relationship with Jesus. In truth, we cannot know God. Ever. No matter how hard we try. Regardless of the number of books we’ve read, the number of bible verses we’ve memorized, the arguments we’ve won, even the number of times we’ve ‘gone to church’. While we walk this earthly path, we can only learn how to love God and one another in Christ. 

To know God this way has already given us all that we need for this path: not rules for living but gifts for the journey. Despite all the suffering, pain and challenge we encounter on the path, the grace of God provides a rich blessedness filled with gladness and joy for all we need.

[1]Matthew 5:1-12

[2]Matthew 4:23

[3]Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart (Beacon Press: 1999), 123-124.

Ordinary Time

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We understandably seek an extraordinary experience of the divine. The stories we like to tell each other over coffee, for example, are those strange, inexplicable even miraculous moments of life. It’s as if we can know God only through these extreme, irregular events: How by some fluke we avoided an accident waiting to happen, or how we were so fortunate to win a prize, or how we happened to be in the right place at the right time to witness something incredible. 

These expectations of experiencing something spectacular of the divine translate into our religious observance. We will come to church at Christmas and Easter – when all the stops are pulled to put on a good show – in order to fulfill our longing for God, for something better than the norm, something more entertaining and stimulating. Aren’t epiphanies supposed to catch our attention after all?

It is so tempting to set religion apart from the ordinary, making of it a sort of “fairyland amusement park.” This leads to an ancient heresy of the church – the split between God and human, the ordinary and the holy, the sacred and profane.[1]And when this split entrenches in our minds, how is it, we wonder, that we would deserve such a God? A God who is made known only to an elite few who will have these extraordinary, divine epiphanies more than we ever can.

But today we find ourselves in ‘ordinary’ time of the church year. According to the church calendar, these times are marked by the colour green. The largest chunk of ordinary time follows the numerous Sundays after Pentecost, running through the whole summer and into late Fall.

But, ordinary time also has a place early in the year, a shorter chunk of time between Christmas and Easter. Combined with the season after Pentecost, ‘ordinary’ time makes up mostof our time – thirty-three or thirty-four weeks of every year.[2]It is not, therefore, the time during which the church is engaged in preparations for, or celebrations of, the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus.

It is the time during which we are called, like Simon and Andrew in the Gospel for today, to follow Jesus. Not because of the star that announced his birth. Neither because of the excitement conjured by the promise of a trip to Jerusalem. But simply because Jesus said, “Follow me.”[3]

It’s ironic that in church history and doctrine we have minimized Jesus’ life and ministry in comparison to his birth and death. Some of the ancient creeds jump directly from Jesus’ birth to his death. But the reason for which Jesus lived on earth cannot be minimized. “Though it is not untrue to say that Jesus came to earth to die, it is more true to the Gospels to say that he came first to live.”[4]

In fact, Jesus’ death is truly significant only in connection with that which he lived for and proclaimed – God’s kingdom. We pray every week, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” On earth. While we go about living, here.

In these weeks between Christmas and Easter we are reminded that, for all their wonders, neither of these great celebrations is sufficient to sustain us in the hard work of following Jesus in our ordinary lives. How can we do that?

In addressing this question let’s be aware again not to be always so taken by the WOW factor —the exceptional even unbelievable nature of the disciples’ response:

“Immediately they left their nets and followed him.”[5]

Again, we may tend to focus only on the extraordinary act of obedience on the part of the disciples. All we see and read here is this immediate response by Simon and Andrew to follow Jesus. They don’t think about it, they don’t talk to anyone before agreeing. They just drop everything and go. Wow!

But what has been going on leading up to this moment, this encounter between Jesus and the disciples he calls? You get the feeling that there has been something brewing beneath the surface, even of their consciousness, which then presents in this radical behaviour. What has been going on in their lives preceding this moment? And, over the long haul of their ordinary living?

Saint Augustine from the fourth century opens the first book of his Confessionswith the prayer and statement that “our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.”[6]It might very well be that even those four fishers had restless hearts – so restless that when they heard Jesus’ call to them, they could do nothing else but leave everything behind and follow. 

Perhaps they were simply responding to what had already been imprinted on their souls from birth—the knowledge of the voice of God—so that when they heard the voice, all they could do was obey. Their hearts were already prepared over time, to respond to that moment of invitation.

Our hearts have been prepared through every experience of our lives, prepared to hear God’s voice when it happens. Our lives, every ordinary moment, is holy ground in which God is working in us to be prepared for when that moment of realization comes.

We may be our greatest enemy in recognizing the work of God in our ordinary routines, as we go about our lives—washing dishes, or walking to the office, or talking on the phone. We can give up the search for extraordinary experiences to validate our relationship with God and service in Jesus’ name. It is obvious. It is right here. In our ordinary lives. Salvation happens in everyday, ordinary experience.[7]

An old man was making rope. Someone came to him and asked him, “What is it necessary to be saved?” Without looking up from his work, he replied, “You are looking at it.”[8]

An episode on one of the nature documentary channels was about the elephant seals of Argentina. The show focused on a mother and her seal pup, who had just been born. Soon after birthing her baby, the mother, now famished, abandoned the pup on the shore so she could go feed in the rich waters off the coast. 

After feeding, she returned to a different part of the beach and began to call for her baby. Other mothers had done the same, and all had returned at a similar time. It was hard to believe they would find each other. 

The camera then followed the mother as she called to her pup and listened for the response. Following each other’s voices and scents, soon the mother and her pup were reunited. The host of the show explained that, from the moment of birth, the sound and scent of the pup are imprinted in the mother’s memory; and, the sound and scent of the mother are imprinted in the pup’s memory.[9]

That’s how it is between God and each of us. We are imprinted with a memory, a longing for God. And God is imprinted with a memory, a longing for us. And even if it takes a lifetime, we will find each other.

No bright stars. No earthquakes. Just a voice that strikes our ear amid the ordinariness of our lives and announces that God has found us and God is among us.

[1]Gregory Mayers, Listen to the Desert; Secrets of Spiritual Maturity from the Desert Fathers and Mothers (Chicago: ACTA Publications, 1996), p.105

[2]David Toole in David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word; Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary Year A Volume 1 (Kentucky: WJK Press, 2010) p.284-286

[3]Matthew 4:19

[4]Troy A. Miller in David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds., ibid., p.287

[5]Matthew 4:20

[6]Cited in Rodger Y. Nishioka, Feasting on the Word, ibid., p.286

[7]Gregory Mayers, ibid., p.105

[8]Ibid., p.97

[9]Rodger Y. Nishioka, Feasting on the Word, ibid., p.284-286

Of trees and radical love – a wedding sermon

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From 1 Corinthians 13:4-8, 13 by Saint Paul:

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogantor rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end.

And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

From “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin”by Louis de Bernières:

Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.

Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any fool can do.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.

We are here today because you, Ryan and Kristina, have invited us to be with you in this very special moment in your lives. I count myself among those who feel very much honoured to witness the celebration of your love for each other, and the blessing of God upon your marriage.

Indeed, I suspect we are doing this because you want your relationship — which began years ago — to endure long after this day. You want your relationship of marriage to be strong and long-lasting. You want your marriage to be rooted, and grounded, in the love you share, and the love given to you.

We want to mark this beautiful moment in time because we know the challenges that will come to your marriage. The storms of life will come: Disappointments. Failures. Illness. Circumstances of life often beyond our control cause us anxiety, fear and suffering. And, deep down, we know that only love – truelove – will help you persevere through those storms.  

But what is true love? Can we describe it?

True love is radical. The word radical actually means the “root” of something, the “source” of it. How is this radical love shown in our lives? The reading from “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” captures this sense of rooted love by comparing love to trees. What is it about trees that have survived countless wind storms through the years?

For one thing, healthy trees will stay connected even as they bend, yield, in adversity and in the storm. Some of the oldest trees, the Redwoods in California, I am told, intertwine their roots together; and elsewhere, even the tops of the trees offer mutual support through their branches being inter-connected. Reaching out to help, and receiving help.

True strength of character, in a relationship, comes not in remaining rigid and unmoving and stuck-in-a-rut. Otherwise, you’ll break. True strength of being is not about flexing power and muscle and bull-dozing through your point-of-view in an unyielding fashion. True love does not, in Saint Paul’s words, “insist on its own way” (1 Corinthians 13:5). 

The trees that survive the storms and endure over time are trees that are practiced in the art of give-and-take, flexibility and mutuality. They are used to bending, from time to time. And they realize they need each other. They need to meet the challenges of life together, not alone. Roots intertwined, interconnected.

Yet another characteristic of trees can teach us about love: Trees already have everything they need in the tiny seed that starts it all. The largest, tallest and oldest trees on earth started out as small seeds. And these seeds contain everything they are and will ever need. 

Often in marriage it’s easier to focus on the negative, especially when stress-levels rise, and those storms come. But that is a choice. Let’s not forget the positives. And they are many: you already have everything you need at the start of your married life in order to make this work. You already have everything you need, not only to survive, but thrive! Nurture those positive qualities you see in each other – you know what they are. Acknowledge the good in each other. Why? Because we already have “the technology” in us. As much as we are limited, broken people, we are also wired for goodness. Right from the start.

Finally, to love, is to be still. On occasion I have walked early in the morning through a forest. At dawn, a forest is normally quiet, and still. We behold the true beauty of the tree and forest in the stillness of the moment. In truth, we can admire the wonder and beauty of the trees only when they are still. 

In a storm of activity and distraction we aren’t normally admiring something or someone. Sometimes in our hectic, high-octane, busy lives, we distract ourselves to oblivion. We are moving constantly, rushing here and there, getting this and that, that we can forget to breath. We forget to be with ourselves and each other. To be still before the Lord (Psalm 46:10). 

In my marriage many of the precious, loving moments I spend with Jessica are those times in the canoe, paddling silently. Or, sitting quietly beside each other watching a sunset, or reading quietly together. To love, is to be still. Nurture the quiet and the still in each other. 

Trees that grow out of their roots, ultimately reach to the sky. People committed to each other in marriage grow out of this radical love, the love God, the glue in your marriage. Married couples ultimately reflect the love of God to the world. Like the tops of the trees reaching to the sky for light and life, our lives reflect and receive and yearn for God. As you grow in love and light, may your marriage reach for the sky.

To the coastlands

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In the second of four, so-called ‘servant poems’ in this section of Isaiah,[1]we encounter a person who is called from before his birth for God’s purposes. But the servant is “deeply despised” and “abhorred by the nations” for something he had done that caused the people to heap judgement and even violence against him.

Whatever this servant had been doing was frustrating even for the servant. He complains that his work had been a complete waste of time, that he had “labored in vain.” Can you relate?

Have you “labored in vain”? Do you feel as if all the work you’ve put into something was in vain, wasn’t worth it, or it felt like it was all for naught and didn’t make any difference? Have you once felt the shame of futility, frustration and failure?

Mahatma Gandhi, during his student life, suffered from frequent panic attacks. He had a particularly agonizing experience during a speech he was asked to give to a vegetarian community in London. After reading one line from the message he had prepared, he could no longer speak and asked someone else to read the rest of the speech for him.

“My vision became blurred and I trembled, though the speech hardly covered a sheet of foolscap,” he recalled.[2]How can someone who is barely able to utter two sentences together in public lead an independence movement? You’d think he must have grieved his shortcomings and fear. Even doubted his ability to lead. 

What will God say to us? How will God answer our prayer born out of our frustration, feelings of futility and anxiety about the changing and scary world within and outside of us?

God’s answer surprises and is often counter-intuitive. We think, perhaps, the solution lies in scaling back, lowering expectations, isolating ourselves in cocoons of introspection and introversion. We think, perhaps, the solution lies in moving away from what causes our fears and anxieties in this changing and scary world out there.

But God’s way isn’t what we think! You thought the solution to your problems was to circle the wagons of your world, make it narrow and easily controlled. You thought the solution to your problems was to constrict your vision to stay within the walls you have constructed in your life between you, your loved ones and the changing and scary world around. To retreat into the safety of a like-minded ghetto behind fortress walls.

God’s answer is cued right at the beginning of this servant poem, in verse one: “Listen to me, O coastlands, pay attention, you peoples from far away!” The servant is not speaking to his own folk, nearby. The servant is not addressing his words to his like-minded cohort. The servant is not preaching to the choir. 

The servant may not realize it at the beginning, but buried in his first words is the seed for his own transformation, his own healing, the answer to his own problem. God only puts a punctuation mark at the end of the sentence: “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth” (v.6). Not only are his sights set on raising up the tribes of Jacob and restore Israel; his destiny lies with people from far away, at the far reaches of his vision.

After God hears the servant’s lament, “God not only renews the servant’s original calling but enlarges the scope of it, so that it encompasses not only the restoration of Israel but the salvation of every nation on earth. Rather than looking upon the servant’s failures and adjusting the call downwards to meet diminished expectations,”[3]God offers an antidote to the servant’s inner struggles.

If the servant is to be healed from his inner turmoil and outer struggles, here is the antidote: reach out to others to meet them, serve them, learn from them and live together with them. Get out of yourself and the self-preoccupation born from too much navel-gazing, and meet God out there in that changing and scary world.

Gandhi found a cause that inflamed a passion in him so great that it overrode his anxieties and fears. His desire to see a free India moved him to stand up for what he believed in. Ghandi’s life echoed the expansive vision of God to care not just for those closest to him – in his family, village, township or province. But to care for the entire country!

Maybe when we’re anxious, we would do well to set our sights on the coastlands. Maybe, when are afraid, we would do well to consider a strategy that goes in another direction than ‘the way it used to be’. Maybe, when we feel all our work has been in vain, we would do well to try to reach out rather than just reach in. Maybe, when we are frustrated, we would do well to resist the temptation to retreat into the comfort zones too quickly.

Because maybe our healing lies in this expansive vision of God. Maybe our growth lies in setting our sights on the coastlands, to meet with people from far away, to make meaningful connections with peoples from all nations.

I think what we need to remember is that what has brought us here today—in the first place—is love. What brings us to this point of confession—confessing our sins, confessing our fear, feeling all those wants and unmet needs and grievances … we can only do that because love lives in our hearts. The small, spark of love – the love of God in us – opens our hearts to be who we are, warts and all.

But God doesn’t stop there. The love that brings us to honesty also sends us out to share God’s love in the world. The love of God will not stop in us but will radiate outwards, a centrifugal force that cannot be stopped, a force that will shine to the farthest corners. God won’t lower the bar with us, but raise it.

When we find the balance, when our outward reaching stems from the depths of our hearts in Christ, when the centrifugal force of the Spirit of God’s mission in the world emerges from the deep wells of God’s love within, then …

Our work will not be in vain. God will bring to completion the good work already begun in us.

[1]Isaiah 49:1-7

[2]https://visme.co/blog/amazing-leaders-who-once-had-crippling-stage-fright-and-how-they-overcame-it/

[3]Stephanie A. Paulsell, Feasting on the Word; Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary Year A Volume 1 (Kentucky: WJK Press, 2010), p.244-246