A Living Vision

Matthew 26:26-29
Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4

Habakkuk opens with a complaint. If you are ever apologetic in your speech to God about the problems you face, the struggles you see in the world, let Habakkuk change your mind a little. “O LORD, how LONG shall I cry for help?” he begs. There’s no tip-toeing around how he feels about the state of the world. He cries out about the violence he sees. To him it seems that God is inactive, uncaring about the suffering of the world. Laws have become meaningless since their power to protect is weakened. Justice is non-existent since the righteous are hemmed in by the wicked. The world, in his eyes, is going to hell in a hand basket, and despite all the crying and all the begging he is doing before God nothing seems to be stopping it.

If the clues he has given us lead us to the correct conclusion, Habakkuk was a prophet in the decade just before the devastating Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem and all of Judah. The kingdom that had been united under King David about 400 years before had later split into Israel in the north and Judah in the south. The northern kingdom, Israel, had been picked away at by Assyria the century before Habakkuk ministered, but the southern kingdom, Judah, was still relatively independent. It lay at the crossroads of the world’s powerful kingdoms of Assyria, Egypt, and Babylonia, its peace threatened as the bullies struggled to gain control of this prime piece of real estate.

Yet not only were they fought over, the people of Judah also fought among themselves. Outside influences corrupted their worship. Feelings of despair allowed them to drift away from God. Tempting alliances with larger, more powerful nations pulled them down paths of injustice toward the needy among them. The stresses on the nation turned neighbor against neighbor instead of drawing people together to find collective strength in their hardships. Everything seemed to be spiraling downward and further and further away from God and God’s vision for the world.

I remember in seminary a friend of mine was taking a class about preaching and youth. I don’t remember if she was assigned the book of Habakkuk or if she found it on her own, but I remember how she claimed that this historical context made this was one of the most relevant books of the Old Testament for our times and for our youth. That may be even more true now than it was 10 years ago.

How long, O Lord, do we have to cry for help? How long do we have witness violence in our communities and around the world? How long do we have to watch young people kill themselves because they feel there is no other option, because they feel there is no way for them to live with their sexual orientation? How long do we have to watch the intolerance of some lead to the death of others?

Why do we have to see wrongdoing and look at trouble? Why do we have to wake up each morning to read in the newspaper or hear on TV how a person in power has broken our trust yet again? Why do selfish ambition and greed seem to be in front of us more than compassion? Why are spiritual leaders abusing power and hurting those to whom they are called to minister?

Why is destruction the only answer we have to disagreement? Why are factions within communities, countries, and churches at one another’s throats? Why aren’t we able to find a way forward together instead of constantly digging in our heels? Why are we so unwilling to build consensus or even compromise in the interest of finding a third way forward out of a deadlock of ideas?

How long, O Lord, will all of this go on before you come in and save us? It is an honest question, one that has great biblical precedence. We ask it in the admirable company of the prophets of Israel, the writers of psalms, and even Jesus who cried out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” We can afford to ask these questions because God is big enough to handle our anger. God won’t toss us aside for asking these questions.

What we can’t afford to do, though, is cry out then walk away. We can’t start this dialogue with God, begging for God’s help, God’s vision, God’s obvious activity in the world, but walk away from the relationship in frustration and disgust. That’s the way of the wicked that threatens the righteous Habakkuk talks about.

Righteousness in the Hebrew Scriptures is not about a moral code of conduct or following and impersonal set of rules. It’s not about who is naughty and who is nice. Righteousness is found in those who understand that their relationship with God is one of total dependence. It is because they know they need the grace and guidance of God in their lives that they follow God’s laws. The laws don’t make them righteous, but because they are in right relationship with God, they follow God’s laws. Righteousness is not the opposite of sinful; it is the opposite of the despair that comes from life apart from God.

When we are in right relationship with God, we can hear God’s answer to Habakkuk’s cry. We can hear what God tells him when Habakkuk says he will wait for an answer; he will stay engaged in the relationship even when the world is crumbling around him. We can hear God’s promise, not that all the devastating things we experience will magically be lifted, but that in them, through them, God is with us. We can hear God’s promise that there will be a day, someday when God’s vision will be fulfilled.

The righteous live by faith, the bold belief that the story in which we find ourselves is not the real story. The REAL story is the one of God’s power over evil, God’s salvation from sin and oppression. Righteousness means trusting in this story, the one in which God is present and reaching out to us in love and compassion. Righteousness is life lived in relationship with God, the opposite of desolation and despair that without God is what fills our beings. Even with God we can mourn and experience pain in our hearts and our lives, but with God there is also a profound sense of grace, which fills us more and eases the sorrow - - bringing an even stronger sense of peace. Staying in relationship with God, even through the desperation that plagues us when it seems like the world is crumbling, means remembering that the end of this will come, and God’s vision will be fulfilled.

As their world is crumbling Jesus shares his vision with his disciples. Huddled in an upper room, avoiding the angry authorities, but knowing it won’t be long before they come for him, Jesus shares his vision with his closest followers as they celebrate the Feast of Passover. As he hands them the bread and pours for them the wine, he gives them a glimpse of the future he has planned. This meal they are sharing is just an appetizer for the banquet they will celebrate someday in heaven. The danger they are facing, the sorrow they will experience, the pain and terror that will invade their lives, the loneliness that will blanket them, will not be the final answer; it is not the REAL story.

The REAL story takes place around a table. It is the story we tell every time we gather at this table, especially when we do it on a day when we know people all over the world are gathering with us. The REAL story of God’s love is a story of grace and forgiveness, a story of abundant provision and beautiful diversity, a story of acceptance and inclusion. It’s a story where God invites us to stay in relationship, God even feeds us with the very bread of life and cup of salvation, when all we can do is cry out “How long?” And when we stay in that relationship, when we persist through the tempting detours of despair, when we trust that God’s vision is still coming, we discover the peace of living by faith.


The meal we share today, we share with the faithful all over the world and across the barriers of time. We are sitting with the disciples themselves who were hosted by Jesus. We are sitting with the men and women of churches in the centuries before us. We are sitting with the faithful across continents today, and those who will come after us tomorrow. We are sharing this bread and this cup just as Jesus promises us we will do when someday he hosts us again at his table. Even if it is for just these few minutes, we are living completely by faith, living as if nothing else is true, but the promise of God that when we eat this bread and drink this cup we are united with Christ and with one another, the promise that no matter how desperate life gets, we will someday feast together in peace and in glory.

At this table we live the vision Jesus has for the world, a world where emptiness is filled, death is answered with resurrection, and God’s merciful love is given to all.

(Pictures from gallery of altar photos on website of Yorktown UMC, White Plains, NY)

Who is she?

Psalm 8
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-36

Who is she? I’ve never seen her here before. I walk these streets daily. I’m down here at the busy gates into town every single day, but I don’t recognize her. I’ve never noticed her before, and I think I’d notice a woman like that. I definitely noticed her today. How could I miss her? She had my spot. She was standing on my corner, right next to the gate for easy visibility. I’ve been working there for a long time, so I know the best place to be noticed, and she was definitely trying to be noticed. She put herself right there in the middle of the hustle and bustle so she could be seen and heard. She stood where only prophets and prostitutes dare to stand, but she had nothing to sell. How dare she take our prime location! Who is she?

I go there daily to do my job, to serve in the temple of Asherah. Yes, I sell myself, but I do it to make others holy. I do it so that the men can be blessed by the gods. That’s what it takes for them to get what they pray for. That’s what it takes for our land, our community to be blessed with abundance. Some women are there only to make money for themselves, but I’m there for a higher purpose. I’m there because the gods demand it. I’m there because I HAVE to be for the good of all of us. Right?

I don’t go there to shout from the corner the things I think, the ideas I have. No one would stop to listen to me if I tried. I wouldn’t have thought anyone would stop to listen to any of us women, but people stopped for her. I stopped to hear her. Who IS she?

She was talking about one of the gods, Yahweh. Only the people who follow that god seem to think it’s the only god. I don’t know how they do it. I don’t know how they throw all their faith in just one god. I don’t know how they can trust just their Yahweh to protect them and provide for them, to feed them and to fight for them. I don’t know how they can understand that the same god who gave birth to the earth, is the same god who greets the dead. But they do. They believe in just one god, one god who does it all.

So, she was talking about this god, her one god, like many prophets do from the exact same crossroads, but she spoke like I’ve never heard anyone speak before. She spoke like she really knew Yahweh; she knew Yahweh deeper than one person knows another. She knew Yahweh more intimately than a woman knows a man. She knew Yahweh even more personally than a parent knows a child. She is close to her god. She is definitely WITH her god, not just when she prays, not just when she is near the temple. She is with her Yahweh indefinitely. Who is she?

The people around me were mocking her at first. We all were. It’s not too often we see a woman prophesying like this. Sometimes it turns out that they’ve lost their mind, and they don’t even know what they’re saying. Other times they teach from their experience and their knowledge of what has happened before. At first we thought she was like either of these kinds of women, but slowly the murmuring started to change. It was went from mocking little comments under the breath, to disbelief, to some strange sort of belief. We didn’t know who she was, but she captivated us. She owned us while she spoke. She was calming and trustworthy, commanding and peacemaking. She was wise.

But the Wise Woman’s wisdom wasn’t human wisdom. Her knowledge and experience wasn’t of this time and place. She knew the world in a way we didn’t; she knew it from before its existence. She was there before anything else was; she was there stirring about, rejoicing and dancing as each piece was put in place. She was there when the mountains were shaped. She was there when the skies were put in place to separate the waters above from the waters below. She was there when the sea was told to come no further. She was there for all of it, and she was there even before, this Wise Woman. She was there with her one God. She was with Yahweh. Was she, is she Yahweh?

The wise woman, Sophia, they might say in the language of the city, called to them. She stood in that busy crossroad, right there at the gate to the city. She stood there where only prophets dare to stand and speak for God, and she spoke with wisdom and authority like we have never heard. She stood there and spoke and called to them, “Happy is the one that listens to me….whoever finds me finds life.” It was more than I have ever been able to offer. It is more than any of our temples dare to promise. We peddle blessings, abundant crops, a fleeting happiness or momentary excitement, but we can’t offer life. She called to them, to all who were walking through the streets that day, she called to them that they might hear her, and wait for her, and live in her wisdom.

She called to them. Was she also calling to me? I can’t imagine she would care. I mean, she is so wise, certainly she knows what little I have to offer. Certainly she knows how I spend my days, how during the night I just try to sleep away the memories of everything I’ve done. Certainly she doesn’t mean to include me in her call. It was just for the men, for the powerful, the righteous. It was just for the ones bustling to the next business deal, the ones who become holy in the temples, the ones with earthly riches and heavenly promises. It was just for the ones who know all about her god, that Yahweh. It was just for those who are on the inside already, right?

This woman, this Wise Woman, with wisdom from beyond creation, she was only calling to them right? She wasn’t calling to me?

But… but… maybe she was. If what she said is true, if what I could feel about her when she spoke is true, if she was there at the beginning of all this, if she was there when there were no depths, no springs abounding with water, if she was there before the first bits of soil were laid down, if all of this was true, then yes she was calling to me, too. The Wise Woman was calling to me. “To all that live,” she announced her good word. Right there are the gates of the city she stood, right there at the crossroads of our town, the crossroads of MY life, she stood and she cried out “To you, O people, I call.” To me, even to me, she called. Even to me, the Wise Woman spoke. Even in me she found delight, and even to me she gave new life.

The one who was there blowing over the water of creation, the one who threw the stars into the sky, the one who knows their numbers in the heavens, the one who knows their placement in the cosmos, she is calling even to me to follow. May even just a small drop of her wisdom be mine. May I walk in her way of righteousness.

Divine Extravagance

I found it rather ironic mid-week when I was struggling over and deeply worrying about my sermon for this week. People often ask about what the process is for writing sermons, and I can tell you that it’s different for every preacher. But for me some weeks the words seem to come easily and some weeks, like Jacob who wrestled with an angel deep in the night, so do I wrestle with the Word of God. This was one of those wrestling weeks.

The passage that’s listed there is not what I will read, or actually it’s just a portion of what I will read. It’s one that was very familiar to me, maybe to you, too, and one of heard preached countless times. Sometimes that actually makes writing a new sermon harder. It feels like everything that could be said has, and gets me worrying if I am finding a message that maybe hasn’t been said. Maybe I’m getting it all wrong. Hence the worrying about a sermon on a passage that seems on the surface to be all about not worrying.

But, I struggled with God’s word this week because that surface reading just wasn’t working for me, especially because of where this familiar passage comes in the gospel according to Luke. One little word in the beginning of this reading just kept tripping me up. That word? “Therefore.”

It’s not even a theological word, but it just kept getting in the way of writing a sermon about worry or not worrying. “Therefore” connects this perfect “Flora and Fauna Sunday” passage about the ravens of the air and the lilies of the field to what comes before. What Jesus is saying about worrying, often a comforting passage for those who feel overworked and overstressed, means something completely different when read back to find out what this passage is answering. So, despite what the order of worship says (something I often complete earlier in the week than my sermon when I end up wrestling like this), I’m going to read more than just the “Flora and Fauna” passage. Today’s gospel reading is Luke 12:13-31. Listen now for God’s word.

Luke 12:13-31

The request from the man in the crowd doesn’t seem too out of order. He just wants things to be fair. He just wants a share of the family’s inheritance, something that may not have been customary at the time, but it doesn’t seem too far-fetched to ask. Yet, Jesus has some pointed words for this man and others, who might be trying to accumulate wealth. He tells the man in the crowd to be careful what he wishes for. Jesus tells him to “Take care!” saying that even this might be a form of greed.

His parable that follows is pretty clear. The rich farmer had barns that were good enough, that were big enough, to hold his already successful harvest, but he wanted more. He wanted bigger barns to hold more crops and more possessions. He was sure he could make his soul happy by gathering grain and goods and holding fast to them. But Jesus is quick to point out that this just doesn’t work. The things he has gathered may make him rich on earth, but they take him nowhere in his relationship with God. His actions are driven by greed and not by a faithful desire to find happiness in God. He tries to accumulate wealth, to gather riches, but the treasures he stores up take him far from what God truly wants.

Wealth and extravagance, in terms of money and material goods that are accumulated and held onto, do not come out on the winning side of that parable. Yet in the next breath, in the directions indicated by the “therefore” Jesus praises the extravagant beauty of the lilies and grasses of the field. The lilies he calls us to consider are apparently clothed more beautifully than the great King Solomon ever was. They don’t have to work. They don’t have to struggle. They are just blessed with this beauty and are praised for the extravagance they stand for. Their rich beauty is praised by Jesus right after he finishes speaking against the man’s riches!

Why is wealth or the appearance of wealth sinful in one case, but a sign of ideal living for God’s creatures in the next? What’s the difference between the man who delights in his riches and the lily that displays its?

The “therefore” gives us our answer. “Therefore, I tell you,” Jesus says, “do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear.” “Do not worry.” Worry here is more than just hand-wringing. It’s sort of like believing in the New Testament. Belief is never just something you agree with in your head or in your heart even. Belief in the New Testament pretty much always implies actions that go with it. Worrying here is not just thinking and wondering what is going to happen; worrying is gathering wealth and stockpiling it. Worrying is pulling down barns that were big enough and building bigger ones that are too big. Worrying is holding back what we have been given for our own use, or even trying to gather more than what we need just to be sure that we’ll have it.

That’s what the rich man in the parable is doing; it’s what the man from the crowd who questions Jesus is trying to get him to bless. The difference in the riches Jesus warns us against and the riches he praises is not so much where they come from. With the rich man in the parable, the wealth in question is wealth which with he has been blessed by God. The crops he gathers, sure have come to him after seasons of hard work and learning the ways of the fields, but the gifts of the land are gifts from God, God who designed the plants to produce seeds that grow, God who sends rains to water the earth and causes the sun to shine on the leaves that grow. And likewise the riches displayed by the flowers of the earth also come from God’s delicate designing hand.

The difference between these two rich examples is not where they come from, but what is done with them. The crops the man harvests are gifts given to him by God, and yet he seeks to gather them for no other purpose than to hoard them away for himself. He stores them up, intends to hold onto them for many years, and he even thinks that in doing so he has found a way to make his soul happy. He holds back the treasures he has been freely given by God for himself and his own enjoyment. His extravagance and riches are self-centered and serve only to bring joy and merriment to one. He is concerned only with himself, his own happiness, his own future, his own needs, and with such single-mindedness his concern turns to active worry and his worry turns quickly to the sin of greed.

Likewise the riches the lily displays have been freely given by God. The flowers of the field are draped by God more beautifully than Solomon was dressed in fine robes and jewels. God has taken care to be sure each flower is rich in color and fragrance, that each blade of grass can dance in the wind, that each lily will dazzle the eye that gazes upon it. God has drenched the creation with extravagant riches and beauty and praises the ones who share that beauty freely given.

Jesus makes a good example not out of the industrious human being who finds a way to stockpile everything that grows in the field, not the farmer who hides away the blessings he has received. Instead Jesus tells us to be like a humble and even temporary flower growing wild. It doesn’t work (it CAN’T work) to accumulate more of what it has received by grace, so it grows strong and proud as the one thing God has created it to be. It can do nothing more than share the beauty it has received only from God.

The wealth of the lily, the richness and extravagance that is praised in this flower of the field doesn’t come from storehouse stockpiled out of worry and greed. That’s what the “therefore” points out to us. Storing up treasures for ourselves can’t make us rich toward God; it can’t bring happiness to our souls or create joy in our lives. The treasures we have been given by God, the grace and forgiveness we have received in Christ, the talents we enjoy, even the money and materials things we possess aren’t meant to be stored away for only our benefit. They are meant to be shared with others. The lily is extravagantly beautiful in the eyes of God, it is adorned in divine splendor, because all it can do is share its riches with the world.

Holding back what we have been given is where we so often go wrong. Holding back the riches with which we have been blessed is where we stray from God’s kingdom. When we hold too tightly to God’s grace, refusing to forgive others as we have been forgiven we are greedy with God’s love. When we hold too tightly to our abilities, refusing to offer our skills and talents in service to God and others, we are greedy with God’s creativity. When we hold too tightly to our money and our possessions, investing only for our own futures and our own interests, we are greedy with God’s wealth.

The gifts of God are for each of us and for the world, and God gives these gifts extravagantly! While our impulse is to gather as many of these gifts as we can and store them away, this isn’t what God intends; these aren’t Jesus’ plans for the grace he secured for us. Forgive my blatant personification, but a lily is rich not because it takes all the beauty God has given and hides it underground, sharing nothing with the rest of us but a colorless, bland stalk. The lily is rich and splendid because it is being the best lily it can be in God’s kingdom.

The world in which God delights is not found when we look only inside ourselves, serving only our own interests and desires. The world in which God delights is discovered when each of us loosens the grip we have on the gifts we have been given and shares our God-blessed unique lives with the world. In doing that we will see God’s riches displayed in each other. We will find the kingdom of God which we seek.

Into the Deep Water

Psalm 104:1-9, 24-26
Luke 5:1-11

I grew up practically across the street from the ocean on the east coast of Florida. Most people who meet me later in life assume that means I was pretty much a beach girl when I was younger. It’s not true, though, not even close. While I actually love snorkeling and swimming in the water when I’m on vacations (and tracking sand into a RENTED car, dragging it into a hotel room, and leaving it behind on THAT shower floor) I wasn’t very into the beach when I lived there.

But when I do get to snorkel over some beautiful reefs it is not just the gorgeous display of color and rich diversity in the reef fish and the coral structures that I enjoy. I love going past the more shallow reefs to what they call “The Drop Off” in Disney’s animated movie Finding Nemo. The drop off is exactly what it sounds like, that place where the ocean floor seems to just drop out from under you. One minute you’re concentrating on following a particular fish and the next you realize the current has pulled you out where you’re floating over water that is much darker and MUCH deeper. If it’s a beautiful day and calm waters the sunlight makes some amazing patterns as it tries to reach down as far as it can in the water that just gets to be a deeper and deeper shade of blue as it sinks. It’s an amazing feeling to be floating there, so tiny in something so big, and for me, it’s one of those times when I finally start to really get the magnitude of our God, and how truly miniscule I am in the scope of all creation.

The Psalmist in today’s and other psalms tries to capture that same wonder and awe for the magnitude and power of God in descriptions of the deep ocean. The oceans, we heard, are a magnificent piece of God’s handiwork. Their size and power, their depth and strength mirror those of God. They are a place of mystery and majesty, holding up the beams of the chambers of God’s household in one line, and likened to a garment that adorns a ruler in another.

I remember learning even as a child that about 70% of the Earth’s surface is covered by water. A poster I saw at the Minnesota State Fair told me 97% of THAT is salt water in the earth’s oceans and seas. More than half of this oceanic area is 9,800 ft deep. If we think of the 5 oceans we know as one world ocean that continuously flows together we find that the total volume of this body of water is thought to be about 310 million cubic miles. In other words that amount of water could be contained by a cube with an edge length of 690 miles.

Get it? I don’t. I can’t even begin to wrap my brain around numbers and distances and volumes of this magnitude, but the Psalmist says that these waters, the deep oceans of the world, they are just as a garment for God who created them. They are the playground of the Leviathan, a mythical sea monster that makes a few appearances in Old Testament poetry. In modern Hebrew the world leviathan simply means whale, but in ancient times it referred to an almost magical creature, a 7 headed serpent in some literature, a water dragon in others. Yet in Psalm 104, the leviathan doesn’t seem to be a creature to be feared. In fact, in this song praising God’s creation the leviathan is almost like a pet for God, another beloved creature God meets in the deep waters for sport, for play, for enjoyment. The ocean is the playground where God delights in the created order. In the sea, leviathan is like God’s beach ball, and God finds great joy in their time together!

Throughout the Hebrew Scriptures there are precious few narratives set in or near the oceans, surprising for a collection of writings from a people whose entire western border is the Mediterranean Sea. However, if we look even briefly at just a couple of those stories that we do have, there is even more to find out about the deep water and especially God who creates it.

The hallmark story of the Hebrew Scriptures is the exodus of the Hebrew people out of Egypt. This happens, of course, through the water by the miraculous parting of the Red Sea. Out of the depths of the sea God’s people are saved while the Egyptians are left floating behind. The sea is where the people are set free from slavery. It is the site and the method of their salvation.

The prophet Jonah, when he is called to the city Ninevah to preach a message of repentance, runs instead to the sea. He jumps aboard a boat to try to sail away from God’s call only to find out that God could find him better than a modern fish finder on a fishing boat can discover a school just waiting to be caught. Jonah is tossed into the rough sea and even swallowed by a creature within it until he at last decides to follow God’s call. In the sea Jonah is corrected, refined by God. He repents, literally, turns around from the direction he was running in order to go in the direction God is sending him. In the depths of the ocean, Jonah is given a second chance; he is shown God’s grace even in the belly of a whale.

These are all stories, traditions, and understandings of the deep that are ingrained in the minds Jesus and those to whom he speaks at the lake of Gennesaret, probably more commonly known as the Sea of Galilee. This is what they know and think of the water when Jesus asks them to go out further and put their nets out in the deep. Certainly, the depth of this inland sea, about 140 feet at the most, is hardly anything when compared with the depths of the world’s oceans, but for a people who rarely venture out of the shallows, any depth is deep!

But really the numbers don’t matter too much in the way we’re looking at the text today. What matters is what the depths stand for, what happens in the depths, both in the history of the Hebrew people and in what Jesus is asking of his disciples both then and now. Cast your nets into the deep water he challenges them. Throw them out into the unknown, the mysterious, the majestic place of God’s creation, and see what you find. He asks the disciples who are familiar with fishing in the shallow water to go deeper to find what they are looking for.

And he does the same with us. He invites us to cast our nets, our faith, our lives in deeper water. He invites us to go beyond the good feeling we get at the surface when we sing together in worship. He invites us to go beyond the casual friendships we make in this congregation. He invites us to go beyond a basic familiarity with the Scriptures from our Sunday School lessons. He invites us to go beyond a rote recitation of familiar prayers. Jesus invites us to go deep in our relationship with him. He invites us out into the deep water where we are challenged to repent of those things that keep us running from God, where we can be showered with grace and forgiveness in Christ. He calls us to deeper waters where we will know what it means to be freed from our slavery to sin. He beckons us to a relationship with the Triune God that is full of joy and delight, playful holiness in the presence of God.

Jesus invites us into the mysterious deep waters, and we follow him there when we give ourselves over to him. We go deeper with Christ when we gather for worship not out of a sense of duty or routine, but expecting to offer God our praise and attention. We go deeper when we care for one another in this community and beyond it with our prayers and with our actions. We go deeper when our prayers are offered from the depths of our hearts, praising God’s majesty, confessing our waywardness, giving thanks for new life in Christ, and seeking the will and guidance of the Spirit. We go deeper when we recognize and celebrate the presence of God in all things that bring us joy and delight.

Jesus guides his disciples out of the shallow water, close to the safe shore, into the risky and mysterious depths. This is how and where he calls each of us. Cast your nets into deep water, Jesus invites, and the blessings you will receive will overflow.

Before the Beginning

Jeremiah 1:4-10

It’s probably no wonder that these words from Jeremiah spoke to me this week. It is good to be back here in worship with you all after being on a blessed maternity leave for the last 12 weeks. While I was away, in addition to introducing Margaret to life on earth and doing my best to simply keep her alive, I took the opportunity to worship at a number of different churches. It was a blessing in many ways, being able to worship God from the pews instead of from the pulpit, but at the same time it also left me longing to come back here to our worship, our community. It was an interesting feeling being away from the place to which I have been called, and while I was able to learn a lot of new things to bring back to us, it feels good to be home.

Margaret’s only been in our house for about 12 ½ weeks, but it’s already hard to remember what it was like before she was born. It’s been almost a year since we knew she was coming, but in a sense she’s been a part of us since even before that. Before she was forming in my womb, well before she was born, we knew we would want a third child to complete our family. She was a part of us before she was here; she was being planned for before she ever existed. We didn’t know who she would look like. We didn’t know what her personality would be. We didn’t know she would have Karoline’s reddish newborn hair or William’s huge, huge eyes. We didn’t know she would THANKFULLY sleep through the night as hard as her mom and dad, but before she was born, before she was formed in my womb, we knew she would be in our family.

“Before I formed you in your mother’s womb…” “Before you were born…” Yahweh, our God, spoke to Jeremiah. Before he was a presence on this earth, Jeremiah was already in God’s mind and heart. God was working together a particular set of gifts for a particular kind of ministry and, I like to imagine, just waiting for the right time and place to set them down in creation put together in just the right person. God claimed Jeremiah for ministry to the nations; it was a part of his life even before his beginning.

Christians point to this particular passage and this claim in some of our deepest deliberations and debates. God’s call to Jeremiah is cited in relation to issues as varied as abortion, predestination, human sexuality, and whether or not God has “a plan (including a particular vocation) for my life.” We regularly accept that the promise and claim of this call isn’t just for Jeremiah, but that it applies to any of us in our walk with Christ. What if, though, these words aren’t just for Jeremiah, and they aren’t just for each of us, but what if they are for ALL of us? Together. The church. This church.

Now the word of the LORD came to First Presbyterian Church in Hudson, Wisconsin saying, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you. Before you were a thought in the mind of the new founders of Hudson I knew you existed. Before you were born I consecrated you. Before you built even the old building downtown on 3rd Street I blessed you. I appointed you a prophet to the town, to the state, to the nations!" What does it mean for who we are and what we do that God has been here before us hoping for us to be here, too? And what is it we have been appointed to do?

Another thing I did this summer while on maternity leave is attend a large portion of the Presbyterian Church General Assembly. This is the biennial meeting of our largest Presbyterian governing body with voting delegates from all over the county, including Barb Van Loenen from this church. During the Assembly meetings they would periodically show videos that are shared on a website developed in response to an item of business at the last GA in 2008. The website is called “Deep and Wide” since the initiative is a commitment on the part of the entire denomination to help grow Christ’s church deep and wide through evangelism, discipleship, servanthood, and diversity. These were essentially some of the same goals we discerned as a congregation last spring in our visioning process together. Over and over again we talked about wanting to “go deeper” together in faith and knowledge of God. We talked about wanting to expand our congregation’s impact wider into our community and throughout the world, as well as expand the reach of our membership. Videos shared at GA and on the Deep and Wide website show the specific efforts of churches across our country to grow in these ways. I’d like to share two of these videos with you this week and next.

Find more videos like this on Deep and Wide

I believe the story of this first church sounds somewhat familiar to our own story from the recent past, but still has something to say to us as we move forward. I heard in the telling of their story two of the important steps they took as they discerned their way forward.

The first is one you will hear in every video on that website of churches in transformation. They prayed. The conversations that led them to new life weren’t just the conversations that happen around committee and session meeting tables. They were conversations with God. In order to find new life in their church, in order to offer life to others in their community and claim resurrection life for themselves, they had to deeper than a connection to the ones with whom they share life on earth. They had to strenghten their connection to the One from whom all life comes. They had to get in touch with God who formed them each in their mother’s wombs, the Spirit who sustained the congregation for well over a century, Christ who redeemed its life when the doors were about to close.

The second thing they did was pointed out by the narrator. Knowingly or unknowingly, they rediscovered their roots as a congregation. When they started in Oklahoma City in the 1800s, we were told, they were a church on the outskirts of town. They were a church ministering on the edge, where newcomers were arriving. They weren’t necessarily downtown in the hustle and bustle of city life, but instead were located where new growth was happening, helping to develop a spiritual community where a new community was being built.

Greystone Presbyterian Church found its life renewed when it got in touch with God AND God’s purpose and call to them. Before they were formed God knew they could address a particular need. Really God created them to do just that. Before Greystone was born or reborn, God blessed them with a purpose. They have found new life by doing what God has created them to do.

In the 9th grade I played in the Florida All-State Orchestra under the direction of a brilliant conductor and inspiring leader. On our last day of rehearsal, right before we began the last run through we would play of the William Tell Overture before our final concert, our conductor spoke to us about this experience. "Never again," he said, "will this moment exist. Never again will this orchestra play. Even if we had a reunion 10 years from now, some of you wouldn't come, and even those of you who did wouldn't be the same people. Never again will this exact orchestra be assembled to play this piece, so play it like you were made to play it."

The First Presbyterian Church of Hudson has been here for over 150 years. In looking back over our history, even to the earliest days of this city and this church, we might be able to discover some part of our purpose for today.

One piece of our history that is alive and well today is our commitment to working with other churches and traditions. In our earliest days we partnered with what is now the United Church of Christ congregation in Roberts, WI. Currently we have ecumenical partnerships with many congregations - First Baptist Church, St. Paul's Episcopal Church, and as of last Sunday Mt. Zion Lutheran Church in our NETworks youth ministry and many other churches in our participation in the Backpack Program, the SOURCE, and the Ecumenical Men's Breakfast.

Secondly, churches begin for a number of different reasons. Greystone, we heard, began as a Sunday Schook, a mission to the unchurched children on the outskirts of town. They church that grew into the Cathedral in St. Paul, MN, I understand, began as a Catholic mission to the Native Americans, not necessarily as a congregation of settlers in the area.

Our church, however, did begin as a church of newcomers to the area, although we were not the first church in Hudson. We formed when a group of people were looking for a different way of worshping, serving, and thinking about God's relationship with people - - not a better way or more correct way, but a different way. our church offered people a different way to think about and live their faith in Christ in a tradition that values personal discovery, discernment, and pondering of God's grace that takes place in community. Maybe that Spirit of question and journeying toward God in a supportive community is a purpose we need to reclaim as we move forward.

The faces in this congregation have changed year to year, and will continue to change as some saints pass into God's glory and new saints are born into our family or join us along the journey. But before we were formed in the womb God knew us. Before we were born into this time God consecrated us. We have been assembled in this way for God’s purpose. We have been appointed as a garden of welcome, to shelter, heal, nurture, and grow together toward God. No other church can fulfill the call God has given to us. Before our beginning this is what we were made to do. In Christ's name, let's serve like we were made to serve.

The Promise and The Call

Acts 1:1-11

A dad I once met had this conversation with his 5 year old son.

“I think I’ve figured it out, Dad,” the boy said. “I think I’ve figured out why Jesus had to go back to God.”

“Really?” the dad questioned. “Why do you think that is?”

“I think Jesus had to go back to heaven, Dad, because it is the best way he could see all of the whole world at the same time.”

This insight may have been helpful for the disciples-turning-apostles who experienced Jesus’ ascension in person. Imagine the emotional and spiritual roller coaster they have been on since Jesus’ final entry into Jerusalem- - even longer if you count the years they spent following Jesus during his ministry.

From the initial excitement of being called by name to follow this charismatic preacher, teacher, and healer. To the painfully slow realization that he is also their Lord and their God. From the pride at being trusted to minister in his name. To the frustration of being rebuked when they just didn’t get it. From the festive entry into the city of Jerusalem for Passover. To the agony of his suffering at the hands of others. From the devastation of putting his body in a tomb. To the confusion and elation of discovering it was empty three days later.

The time of his ascension must have been another hill on the roller coaster the disciples were riding. On the one hand it was a time that provoked great celebration and worship. How glorious for the disciples to see their Lord and master, their Messiah and savior, being lifted up and carried into heaven the only suitable place for their God and king to reside.

On the other hand, now there’s another letdown. It was like he died and left them alone all over again. He had been among them teaching and leading, and now he’s left the earth on which they are stuck with no leader, no teacher, no friend in the deepest sense. The times look, yet again, desperate and foreboding. The crisis of the unknown has hit this body of believers, and the way forward must seem impossible to see. Jesus’ ascension could carry his disciples back down the hill into depths of despair. Their worry and confusion about how they will proceed could easily monopolize their time, their energy, and their life together.

It could, but Jesus tries not to let that happen by leaving them with a unique promise and an important call to action. Knowing he is about to leave the earth and their presence, he orders them to wait in Jerusalem for what has been promised, the power of God, the Spirit of God, that is on the way.

Similarly, our times of confusion and frustration and worry are not solitary confinements. They are not without hope or direction or inspiration. Our times when the way forward seem difficult are also blessed with the knowledge that God’s Spirit is forthcoming, God’s presence is with us, and God’s guidance is never failing. God’s Spirit brings us the power we need to continue on in the life of faith and even just the PROMISE of that power can be enough to bring comfort and ease the anxieties of transition and uncertainty.

The promise and power of which Jesus speaks is the promise and power of the Holy Spirit. Now the Holy Spirit itself is not something NEW that comes to the people of God at this point. The Spirit of God blew over the waters at creation. The Spirit of God was with the Israelites in Egypt, the exodus, and the wilderness. The Spirit of God was on the prophets of God and among the people of God throughout their turbulent history and rocky relationship. The Spirit of God is not new.

What is new is the deliverance of the Spirit of God to this particular group of God’s people for this particular purpose. For the other piece of Jesus’ instruction to the disciples is a call. The narrative from the opening words of the book of Acts tells the disciples this call will take them to “Jerusalem, all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. The first volume of this 2 part story of Jesus and the early church, the gospel according to Luke, though, gives the substance of the witnesses’ expected testimony; it concerns crucifixion and resurrection, repentance and forgiveness. In a nutshell the testimony of the disciples is the wonder wrought by God in Jesus and the effect of that wonder on the world.

This is the call to the earliest church, and it is the call to the church today. It is the call to be witnesses to what we have experienced in the life of faith. It is the call to share what we know to be true about God and God’s love for the world in Jesus Christ. It is a call to reach others where they are, and point to the one who gives us the power, and courage, and mandate to cross unwritten boundaries with the gracious love of God. It is a lofty call, but is a call that comes with a promise.

We are promised the Holy Spirit in order that we will have the power to live as God calls us to live, the power to witness to the unbelievable truth of God’s love for the world. We are promised the Holy Spirit in order that we will discern where we are to carry God’s message. The accounts through Acts that we have heard in the last few weeks should be a comfort in this calling. Everywhere the apostles go to be Christ’s witnesses, it seems that the Holy Spirit beats them there. They are both carried and preceded by the Spirit in their faithful following of Jesus’ command.

This is God’s promise and God’s comfort. Even though the situation around us may change, our calling never changes. Even times budgets may get tight and anxiety may be high, our calling stays the same. And as our calling never changes, neither does the promise of God’s presence and guidance in fulfilling our calling.

Brothers and sisters, even in times the times that feel like an emotional and spiritual roller coaster, we are being called and we are being sent. These are not times to turn fearful, or circle the wagons, or hold ourselves back from the ministries God is placing in front of us. Even in times that feel like they are uncertain, maybe even because the times feel uncertain we must trust in the Spirit that has been promised and step out to follow the call that is placed before us. By the power of God, we will move forward being Christ’s witness not only in our community, but around the world. Hear Jesus’ promise, and praise him in great joy as we discern the Spirit’s leading and call to our church.

In the Spirit's Steps

Acts 16:9-15

We’ve been making our way, these last few weeks, through the accounts of the early church in Acts. As I have prepared for worship I have been asking the Scripture – “How did the early church do it? How were they church together? How did they go about God’s work in the world?”

The stories that have demonstrated the answers each week have been dramatic. Peter and the apostles were thrown in jail for teaching about Jesus. Despite the threat of the long arm of the law, they are STILL witnesses to what they have seen. And then there’s Saul, a notorious persecutor of the Christians who is blinded by a vision of Jesus, yet finds his way to faithful Ananias, who follows the Lord’s call to minister to this dangerous enemy of his faith. Then last week Peter is given visions of animals and food descending on a blanket from heaven. He hears the voice of God and has the courage to stand up to his fellow believers with a message of inclusivity beyond their imaging.

Jail. Visions. Voices from heaven. Divinely-inspired dreams. It seems like the folks in the old days had all the fun!

Hear this story about a woman, a good and faithful Christian. She’s a member of her church, the first or second to raise her hand for most jobs. We’ll call her Susan. She worships most Sundays, and has for about a decade. She’s one folks know they can count on not only for committee work or to serve on the session, but for last minute jobs like greeting on Sunday morning, because they know she’ll be there.

But somehow, even with all her activity in the church, Susan feels that something is missing. She somehow senses, and secretly fears, that despite all this church activity, she’s not much different than her friends who don’t attend church at all, the ones who go to yoga or Spinning at the Y on Sunday morning instead of attending any church, the ones who travel with their kids to soccer games or even just sleep in instead.

Susans or Samuels are all around us. Probably they even ARE some of us. They are the faithful who “wonder when their ticket is going to be punched, when they are going to experience the changed life they’ve been promised and expected to experience at church” (Reggie McNeal, The Present Future). They are the faithful, dedicated saints of the church who hear God’s call to the ministries we undertake, but wonder if maybe there isn’t supposed to be a little something more to who we are as the church.

Now hear this story about a few first-century travelers who have set out on a journey. They are on fire as they are led by their tireless tour guide, the Holy Spirit. You know the type. When I was little Disney World was crawling with them. Young men or women from Brazil or Japan or any number of other countries. They had perfected the art of walking backwards holding a small flag of their country high in the air, while smiling for the entire day and leading a herd of tourists from Tomorrowland to Fantasyland to Frontierland. They had energy like no one else in the park and could make standing in a 30 minute bathroom line look like fun. No one in those tour groups ever looked bored. Their guide’s enthusiasm was infectious.

The traveling conditions of our ancient trekkers are tough, funds are tight, and there is frightening opposition to the group they represent in some of the places they plan to visit. Yet despite all this, they set out with conviction and faith. They’ve poured over the map in preparation for the journey and know exactly where they will go and what route they will take, retracing the step one of them has already taken for some of the trip. But then one night, in the middle of their trip, one has a vision, a itinerary changing vision. They believe the vision is calling them to proclaim the Good News in a way different than they had initially thought. Their tour guide has a better plan, so they immediately change their plans and set off in a new direction.

With faith and dedication and a commitment to sharing the message, story and life of Jesus Christ with others, they continue on a completely different journey than they planned without really knowing what they might encounter along the way. The plan to check up on some previously planted “new church developments” has turned into something altogether different as they make their way to a new continent with their message about Jesus.

What faith. What dedication. What a commitment to sharing the life of Jesus Christ with others.

Contrasting the stories of modern-day followers like Susan to early church followers like Paul, we see a marked difference. Jesus’ early followers were alive with the fire of the Holy Spirit, whereas many of us today seem to lack that fire, passion, and conviction. We claim that the world is a different place; our responsibilities keep us tied down. At the Synod meeting I attended recently someone lamented being constrained by our polity. I’ll be the first to admit that the Presbyterian way sometimes seems slow and closed off, but I think we’re passing the buck if we blame all our frustrations on an organizational structure.

Perhaps the real difference is that followers of Jesus in the early church were clear about what they were called to do, whereas today many of our traditional, mainline churches lack that clarity. Followers in the early church were clear that they were to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ, as we heard in today’s reading. How Paul and his cohorts accomplished this purpose can be instructive to us if we seek to reclaim and increase a passionate, fiery faith.

In the middle of their journey, Paul saw a vision. Now, Paul has had experience with visions before, remember. In his former life he was struck blind by a vision of the resurrected Christ asking him why he was killing Christ’s people. Paying attention to visions has made him a new man, a man of faith, a man with a calling from God, passionate about what he has seen and experienced, passionate enough to want to share it with the world. Again and again in Acts, Paul’s passion spring directly from his willingness to listen for and act on God’s word. If we are to rediscover the fire of the early Christians, we, too, must be willing to listen and act on God’s word.

Do we take the time to talk AND listen to God through regular prayer and silent Holy listening? If and when we sense that God is leading us in a certain direction, do we test out that direction, seeking affirmation from church, family, friends and other trusted sources? We sometimes tease about our Presbyterian polity, but this is the point of it! To gather people of faith to discern the leading of God’s Spirit around particular areas of ministry, and then to test what we have discerned against the understanding of the Spirit-led community? If it what we have seen or dreamed does indeed seem to be God’s gentle hand acting in our lives and our discernment is affirmed, are we bold enough to act, or do we let fear, complacency, routine, or something else stand in the way?

We must listen for, trust in, and act on God’s Spirit in our lives and in our midst if we are to reignite a fire in our faith.

Another way Paul proclaimed the Good News of Jesus Christ was by going to where the people were. “On the Sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river, where we supposed there was a place of prayer, and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there.” They did not stay in a synagogue, or put up a new sign outside the synagogue and wait for people to come. Rather, they went out to where the people were.

If we are to rediscover the fire of the early Christians, we too must reach outside of our established church. We cannot just open our doors and wait for people to come in. We cannot simply mow the lawn or make a new sign and wait. Instead, we must look at the needs of the people in the community, the places where there is hurt, where there is need for support and loving community, where there is spiritual longing, and reach out to address it. It is our responsibility as people of God. It is where our tour guide is leading us.

Sometimes it’s more comfortable to stay in here, though. In here, we know what to expect. We know our friends; we know our fellow travelers on the way. In here, we can have control over the culture, the traditions, the rules, and the expectations. Out there, it’s all changing and changing faster than we can imagine. The culture is decreasingly “religious,” but increasingly “spiritual,” and frankly we don’t know how to address that. It’s more comfortable to keep our ways and trust what we know, but searching out the unknown ways to proclaim Christ’s message and share his love beyond our church building is mandatory. In doing this, we will find the fire of faith rekindled.

Lastly, when Paul proclaimed the Good News of Jesus Christ he didn’t limit who was to be reached. The vision that brought Paul to Macedonia was a vision of a man who asked him to come over and help. Yet, as the story develops, he finds something different, “a certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God. … The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul.”

If we are to once again become on fire with the gospel message, we must not limit God by defining the people we are called to reach. We can seek the unexpected person who might be longing for the transformative message of Christ’s love, and risk sharing the gospel message. We must be open to the idea that the Spirit may take us to unexpected people in unexpected place. She may pull us into relationship with people who are sitting outside the gates, outside the church, outside the usual relationships and organizations of society. Following the steps of the Spirit may bring our journey to places we never imagined to go, meeting people we never imagined to know.

With whom might God be calling us to share our faith?

Let’s return to Susan, the woman with whom we began with, who was feeling as if she wasn’t growing and changing despite her church activities, despite her commitment, despite her faith. I imagine Susan could be any of us; Susan could be many of us. Story after story, study after study, tells us there are people like Susan in many congregations, people who aren’t experiencing the spiritual transformation for which they hoped. As one Christian missiologist observed, “They came to us seeking God, and we gave them church instead.”

Many congregations, despite their best intentions, seem to have lost focus and give those seeking Jesus a slate of church activities rather than avenues for spiritual growth that can be truly transformational. In our visioning process this is exactly what we are trying to avoid. We have a whole slew of church activities out there on the walls and it would be easy to let that process simply re-organize the things we have always done. Yet that is not the point. The point is to discern what steps the Spirit is calling us to make. The point is to discover our areas of passion and commitment. The point is to try together, as a congregation, to get a vision for what God is doing in our midst and calling us to do in our community, in our world!

Our church, like Christian communities of faith throughout all time and space, exists to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ, to share God’s love that is forgiving, accepting, healing, and free. We, as people who are a part of this specific and global community of faith, must ensure that our activities are in alignment with this purpose and in step with the Spirit’s leading. By refocusing on this, we can transform the smoldering embers of faith into brilliantly burning flames.

The FAT Church

The passage we will hear today centers around one of the most common debates in the early church. Do you have to be Jewish first to be a Christian? The very first believers in Jesus were, like him, faithful Jewish men and women. What they believed about what was happening they believed through Jewish eyes, Jewish hearts, and the Jewish faith. They didn’t think of themselves as pioneers of a new faith, just a continuation of a very ancient one.

However, when the news of what had happened began to travel outside of Jewish territories and when people began to actually BELIEVE what they heard, the folks back in Judea, started to ask, “What does it take to be a follower of Jesus?” Many of them believed that to be a follower of Jesus, one must become a Jew, meaning one must submit himself or herself to ALL of the Jewish faith, not just the parts about Jesus. They expected Gentile converts to begin to keep the seventh day as a Sabbath (as well as gather with other believers in Jesus on Sunday morning for resurrection celebrations), to keep the food laws that prohibited the eating of unclean animals, even for men to submit themselves to circumcision as a sign of inclusion in God’s covenant with Abraham. You can imagine some of these didn’t go over so well with newcomers to the faith.

Listen now to how Peter responded to the questions of his community of faith in Jerusalem (and their reaction) after spending time ministering among the Gentiles.

Acts 11:1-18

The early church wasn’t as rosy as we sometimes like to think, especially as we are faced by the contemporary controversies of the church and wonder why we can’t just go back to the old days when people just believed in Jesus and didn’t worry about the rest. This question about who a real Christian is was just as difficult as similar, yet more contemporary questions during the Reformation about who receives God’s grace, questions in this country in the 1800s about slaves being real people in God’s eyes, questions in the last 100 years about women being called to offices of the church, the question today about the ordination of homosexuals. So yet another question remains to be asked, “Why should this VERY post-Easter church in 2010 turn to the account of that BARELY post-Easter church of the 1st century for ‘advice’ when they seem to be as messed up then as we are now?” What does this account tell us about being the resurrection church?

First I think we learn that the resurrection church is made up of human beings. It was made up of humans 2000 years ago when it was first coming into being. It has been made up of human beings throughout our rocky history. It is STILL made up of human beings as we debate in our denomination, as in others, about the role and interpretation of Scripture and how that is applied in our current culture.

I have seen a bumper sticker (admittedly not my usual source for sermon support material) that says this, “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven.” The church is not perfect. It never has been. The church 2000 years ago was made up of imperfect human beings just as when we look around the church today we see the exact same composition - - imperfect human beings trying our best with what we’ve got to live the life of faith as we understand it, as we experience it, as we have been given it, and as we see it growing and changing right before our very eyes. Ultimately, we don’t look to the early church for insight because of who they are. We look to them because of what God has done with them. We look to them because somehow through these completely imperfect human beings, Jewish and Gentile alike, the church did grow.

The church did figure out how to reflect the resurrection life of Jesus inside itself and to the world. The church did realize, as Peter said, “The Holy Spirit fell upon them just as it had upon us at the beginning.” The church, I might say, was FAT. Of course, I don’t mean heavy or overweight, unhealthy or at risk of heart disease. FAT is an acronym I first learned in high school in a discipleship group of which I was a part. We used it in that setting to talk about individual disciples and followers of Jesus, but I like it as much, if not more, as a guide for the community of Jesus’ followers who somehow have to work TOGETHER to do more for God’s mission than any one of us could ever do alone. So, FAT is what I think the early church was that helped them be the ones through whom the Spirit worked in the world, particularly in this account, the established, Jewish portion of the early church.

First they were FAITHFUL. They may have been faithful to a fault, but they were faithful to what they knew and believed. They knew that for them following Jesus was one and the same as being faithful Jews. They knew this meant bringing their infant sons for circumcision. They knew this meant avoiding certain foods or food combinations. They knew this meant honoring particular holy days and celebrations. They were knowledgeable about their tradition and faithful to God whom they knew through this tradition. They were faithful to God who had saved their people from the Egyptians through Moses, from the Philistines through David, from the Persians through Esther, from their imperfect selves through Jesus of Nazareth. They may seem argumentative and exclusive to us right now, but let’s not forget that it was their faithfulness that instilled in them such strong feelings, such worry about changes to “the way things have always been.”

However, if faithfulness to their tradition and their long-held beliefs was all that the early Jewish church possessed we very likely would not be here today. In addition to being faithful, the early church was also AVAILABLE. I don’t mean that they all had gobs and gobs of free time. Many of us would be in trouble if that was the key to a vital and Spirit-led church. Free time isn’t the only thing availability is about.

Peter, for example, was available to the Holy Spirit before he ever gave up any of his time. He was praying, opening himself to communication with God and not just talking to God, listing his own prayers of thanksgiving, worry, desire, or even praise. He was waiting and listening for God. He was open and available to the possibility that God might have something to say to him. Likewise, so were his brothers and sisters in faith when they came to hear his report. They may have come, it seems with contention on their hearts, but they were open and available to hear what Peter had to say. They didn’t fight back with ready-made arguments and h slogans to counter what he said. The early church sat and heard what he said, and even kept silence to truly understand what was happening before they responded. They were available and ready for God, who just might be doing a new thing in their midst.

Lastly, the church was TEACHABLE. We see it in Peter individually as he comes back to share his story with his own change of attitude and belief, but we also see it in the whole church itself. The climax of the story is their teachability (I know that’s not a word, but I need it to be one). The climax of the story is when the apostles and believers who were in Judea, who had heard (with great suspicion) of these Gentile converts, who had been so faithful to the traditions they had always known, who had believed that God’s word was exclusively for them, who had felt the special anointing of the Spirit, who had understood themselves to be chosen by God for this unique revelation - - the climax of the story is when THESE apostles and believers broke their shocked silence and praised God, saying, “Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life.”

They have heard and even out of their brokenness, even out of their intense faithfulness to tradition, actually BECAUSE of their faithfulness in God who works in unexpected ways through unanticipated people, because of their availability to the unpredictable Spirit, because of their willingness to be taught and changed, they are led forward in faith to the future. This is why we look to the early church. This is why their experiences and struggles are recorded in Scripture and shared among us as we look to forge our own way in a culture that is changing and challenging. This is why accounts of their birth and growth have been given to us by the living Spirit of God and the church before us – because their example shows us the way forward for our own Easter church today.

May we have the same wisdom and courage in our time to be the faithful, available, and teachable people of God that they were in theirs.

Get Up and Go!

The second lesson this morning continues our Easter journey in Acts. These are the accounts of the very earliest church, the men and women who were closest to Jesus during his ministry and those who had experiences with him just after the resurrection. They were preaching and teaching and forming communities of faith with the reality of the resurrection at the front of their minds. Everything they did they did because they believed that Jesus had risen, that death would not win. This Easter we’re going to look particularly at how they formed those first churches – what they valued, what they emphasized, what they knew was important to pass on, and how they lived their faith in God our Savior. From their experiences we can ask ourselves - -What does it mean for us to be a resurrection community? What does it mean for us to an Easter church?

Our Scripture passage this morning is likely a familiar one for many of you. Actually, even if you’re like me and have a hard time citing chapter and verse, you will likely recognize the experience. Acts 9:1-20 contains the story we often call the conversion of Saul, whose name is later changed to Paul – the Paul who went on to become the writer of a number of the letters in the New Testament.

In his days as Saul, he was a fierce persecutor of Christians, or followers of the Way. In fact his first appearance in the New Testament is when he participates in the stoning of Stephen, one of the original seven deacons. However, after Saul’s conversion or calling on the road to Damascus, he is a new man, changed forever in his orientation toward God known in Jesus Christ.

All that said, as you listen to this Scripture today, I ask you to listen for something possibly new. Listen to the story told not only of Saul, but also of a man in Damascus named Ananias. Listen now for a Word from God:

Acts 9:1-20A few years ago I attended a retreat for Presbyterian pastors. To open the retreat the 12 or so of us who were there were asked to go around the circle and tell our “call stories”, the story of our life and faith that brought us to ministry in the first place. The retreat leader planned one hour for this activity – giving each of us five minutes to tell our story. Well, this activity ended up stretching into something like 2 ½ or 3 hours.

The leader’s first mistake was thinking 12 preachers could each restrict themselves to only five minutes – clearly an unrealistic hope. But, secondly I think he was expecting some stories like Saul’s. I could tell that story in just five minutes. It doesn’t take long to tell why you decided to follow God if at some point in your life you have seen a flash of light from heaven, heard the voice of Jesus, been blind for three days, and then had scales fall from your eyes as a stranger speaks a message to you from God. That’s a pretty clear message from God about what you’re supposed to do with your life.

However, it takes a little longer to tell the story of a person’s experience with God when that story begins with an infant baptism, continues through the nurture of Sunday School, includes confirmation in the teen years, maybe twists and turns away from God in the later teens and parts of adulthood, before one comes to realize God’s presence or call. That’s not a five minute story – that’s a life story. That’s the kind of journey, I’m guessing, more of us are traveling. It’s a journey that, I think, relates more to the story of Ananias than it does to Saul.

We don’t get much information about Ananias in this passage. We know that he’s living in Damascus, and that he is a disciple. That’s about it. My assumption is that Ananias isn’t an extremely remarkable man, otherwise we would probably hear those remarks. But, we aren’t told that he is a great leader in the synagogue or the community. We don’t know that he is well-respected, or that he is rich, or that he is perceived to be any closer to God than anyone else. We just know that he is a disciple. I imagine him to be a faithful man, but not an extraordinary man in terms of his power or prestige.

Yet God decided to use Ananias. God decided to call Ananias to service. Notice, though, that Ananias didn’t get the luxury of a blinding experience like Saul did. He didn’t get Saul’s flash of light and voice from heaven. Ananias got what I think is a much more difficult call from God, but maybe the kind we’re more likely to run into in our own lives. It was a call that came in a vision – maybe a dream in the night while he was fast asleep, or maybe it was a conversation or thought process in his head while he worked, not really even knowing at first whether it was his own thoughts or God’s voice that he heard. However he heard it, the message that came was this, “Get up and go!”

Being a part of the Way, being a disciple of Christ, isn’t just about believing something we’re told. It isn’t about saying yes to the right questions or being able to recite the correct creed or statement. Being a follower of Jesus isn’t even just about living a certain way, according to a certain set of rules or standards. At some point in every believers’ life of faith, and very possibly at many different points in that life, God is going to come calling. Answering that call requires some sort of specific action.

“Get up and go!” God says to Ananias. Actually, it’s the same thing he said to Paul in his call, too, “Get up, and enter the city.” Get up and go do something. Rarely does God come calling and say, “Have a seat; relax. Don’t bother to do anything for me today.” No, God’s calls come expecting action, and often some sort of specific action. Sometimes they are large, this-is-what-I-want-you-to-do-with-the-rest-of-your-life actions, but sometimes they are smaller, this-is-what-I-want-you-to-do-right-now actions. The smaller ones aren’t always as small as they seem though. God has a way of using our simple actions and activities in much bigger ways.

Agreeing to prepare or serve supper at Grace Place taking a shift sorting and distributing food at the Food Shelf may be a specific call that uses a few hours of your time, but your presence shows the love of Christ that may last someone else a lifetime. Or maybe through that kind of service your eyes are opened to the needs of others that go beyond one meal or groceries in the pantry for now and point to systemic problems in our community you can help change. Teaching a workshop rotation class, helping out with the summer day camp, or being involved in a new ministry to “tweens,” our 4th and 5th graders, may be the way God calls you to serve. It requires some time and a commitment to a new action, but answering the call means nurturing children of God, and growing the community of faith. Taking care of our labyrinth that serves our church and community, sharing your faith story in worship with others, preparing a meal for our church family that feeds us physically and spiritually, befriending and mentoring newcomers to our congregation - - these are all specific calls to action to which God may be calling you.

Faith in God can’t be a stationary thing. It does not allow a stagnant, inactive life. If there is one thing the disciples learned from the resurrection it’s that Christ is still active in the world. His disciples as close as the twelve from Galilee and those as far away as Damascus all seemed to know that the resurrection was a call to active faithful living. Even DEATH could not stop Jesus from loving all of God’s children. Even the cross could not keep him from being with the world he came to serve, the disciples he came to feed and teach, the sick he came to heal, the captives he came to release. Christ’s ministries, like Christ himself live on and they need active leaders and today’s disciples to carry them out. Faith in the resurrected Christ requires us to be an active Easter church in God’s world; it requires us to change our individual ways of living in general, yes, but also to answer specific calls, be a part of particular jobs and assignments that God sets before us.

When God calls us to get up and go, it means that we might end up doing something we never expected. Imagine how ridiculous God’s call must have sounded at first to Ananias. He knows this man Saul, and how he goes around binding up and killing people who follow Christ. Ananias knows walking into that house into the same room as Saul is practically the kiss of death. He challenges God, and tries to talk his way out of God’s idea.

But the Lord persists, and in that persistence, the Lord provides a promise. Saul, the Lord promises, is an instrument in God’s plan, a vessel God has chosen to carry God’s name to the world. In other words, the Lord is already active in this plan set before Ananias. As unbelievable as it is, Ananias doesn’t need to go into this task thinking he’s alone or being pushed out on a limb. It doesn’t all depend on his ability or talent or strength or confidence. God is calling Ananias into a situation and a mission where God is already present.

That promise is the same to us today. God never calls us somewhere that God isn’t present already. Wherever we are called to go in God’s name, God already is. God calls us to add our gifts, attitudes, talents, and energy to the work God has already begun. We aren’t the ones beginning the work of the kingdom, but we are called to be witnesses to God’s love for the world as we are a part of that work. We may be called into difficult and even dangerous situations, but we aren’t called into them alone.

Sure Ananias is supposed to go to this house and find Saul, the notorious persecutor, but Ananias is not going alone. God has already gone before him to that house, God is already active in the plan, and God will accompany him on the adventure. And so Ananias gets up and goes. He puts his life of faith into action not simply by incorporating new behaviors or changing some habits. He very physically and very purposefully follows a specific call from God to do something different. He goes with the promise that God is already present where he is headed. He becomes a part of the work God is doing in Saul. He becomes a very important part of Saul’s conversion as he witnesses to Jesus’ healing power and the power of the Holy Spirit. He becomes a part of Saul’s ministry as Paul that stretches throughout the known world of their time.

When God calls you to get up and go, and I promise you, in some way, shape, or form, God is calling each and every one of us and this congregation as a whole to get up and go, the promise in that calling is that we are not being sent out as a lone ranger to carry the full responsibility and risk of that calling. Wherever you are told to get up and go, in your work, in your family, in your friendships, in your relationship with your enemies, in your interests, or in whole new directions, you are called to service with the living God who is already at work in your calling.

The first Easter church got up and went. It is my prayer that so will we.

Finding Life

Luke 24:1-12

They had every good reason to go to the garden tomb. They never suspected they’d find anything different from what they expected – the body of Jesus, wrapped in the linen cloth Joseph had brought when he took it down from the cross. They had seen it all with their own eyes, these women who had followed him so faithfully from Galilee.

They had watched Jesus as he died on the cross. They heard his final words as he gave himself over to God. They held their breath as he took his last. They witnessed the Roman centurion who came to belief and praised God when he realized the death of innocence had taken place. And these women were there when his body was laid in the tomb just as it ought to be, so they could return to this place of the dead when it was permissible, after the Sabbath, to finish his proper burial.

They had seen it all with their own eyes. They had no reason to expect to find anything but what they had left behind before their fitful day of rest. And in some strange way, I imagine at least, they looked forward to coming back to that place of the dead where they knew what to expect, where they could DO SOMETHING about what had happened even if it was dressing Jesus’ body for death. They looked forward to coming back to the tomb where they would at least be close to him because figuring out what to do without him was just still too hard that early.

Their world had crumbled around them. A mother they knew was mourning her son, which is never the natural order of things. There were students who had lost their teacher, disciples who had lost their master, people of faith who had lost God in their very midst. Their world was tumbling down around them, because the world had won. The perplexed and terrified establishment had squelched what it did not understand. The oppressive empire had put down the threat of rebellion. The life an innocent man, a good and holy and righteous man, a gracious and loving and compassionate man, a man who walked in the way of God, who loved with the heart of God, who healed with the touch of God, truly a man who was God, had been stolen, and so their world had crumbled around them. The world out there had won.

It’s not hard to imagine what they were feeling. We know about worlds that have crumbled We know about the still-open wounds, tender and hurting wounds, of those who have lost jobs or struggle to make ends meet in this economic climate, of those who have lost loved ones too soon, before the natural order of things has taken place, of those who battle depression or addiction, of those who grieve over relationships that have been strained beyond the breaking point. We know about the indiscriminant nature of earthquakes and floods. We know now that years of ignoring people in poverty can lead to mind-boggling devastation and corruption. We know about abuse, verbal, physical, and sexual, that can leave lives in confused ruins.

And we know that sometimes it feels like the tombs of despair are the only places we belong anymore because it just seems like this hopelessness is all there is anymore. The tombs, the places of death, seem like the only place we can dwell. The mindset and attitude of acceptance seems like the only way we can respond to the world that crumbles around us. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right? If you can’t stave off the grief and the death and the dearth of hope, you might as well just go to the middle of it all, and get yourself ready to exist with it as the norm.

They had every good reason to go to the garden tomb. They never suspected they’d find anything different from what they expected. They had seen it all with their own eyes, but when they arrived they found something completely unexpected, or really the found NOTHING that they expected. They came looking for the evidence of the death they had witnessed. They came to play the hand they had been dealt. They came to do the only thing they could imagine doing, but they discovered what they never imagined to see.

Death was gone! Jesus’ body no longer lay where they had seen it lay before. They went to the place of hopelessness, and somehow hopelessness was no longer there! “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” the two strangers asked the terrified women. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” Why do you come to this tomb, this place of death, this place of grief as if it were the end of the story? Why do you come to dwell in the midst of what seems like a hopeless situation when he told you it would be different?

Why do we read the newspapers, watch TV, replay our own stories over and over and over again in our heads as if they are the final story that will get told? Why do we return to these experiences of pain and suffering and believe that they hold the ultimate power in our lives or in the world? Why do we believe or at least live as if we believe that all hope is lost, God is dead, and evil has the final word?

He told the women it wouldn’t end like this. He told us. He told them he would rise again, and we have heard that he has. He is not there in the tomb among the dead. He is living. He is living hope. He is alive!

The resurrection promises us we don't have to keep going back to the places of the dead to look for some sort of false comfort there, to harden ourselves to what is happening and just muddle on through the life before us and the world around us. Jesus, the living one, was not among the dead, and the women discovered they didn't need to go back to the tomb. Likewise, we don't need to, and really shouldn't get sucked into hopelessness because he lives, and if he can overcome death and the tomb, then there is hope for all of this, there is hope for all of us.

It doesn’t mean we forget these things exist. It doesn’t mean we forget the losses in our lives or ignore suffering in our community and around the world. It doesn’t mean that the tomb never held the beaten and broken body of the innocent man. Those things exist; the pain they cause is real. But because of the resurrection, because he is among the living, we don’t need to go back to the tombs, and live them over and over. We don’t have to dwell in hopelessness, looking for comfort where none is to be found. The empty tomb that the women found means miraculously, graciously, that these places of death and hopelessness aren’t where the story ends.

Why do you look for the living among the dead? Jesus, the light of the world, Jesus the Messiah, the chosen one of God, Jesus, God who came to dwell among us, is not dead in the tomb. He has risen. He is alive. He is hope where we thought there was none. He is life where there was death. He is love and grace and mercy where it seemed that anger and jealousy and suspicion had won out.

And because we know this, because we have heard of his life beyond death, we have a job to do, a call to answer, a call to go find this life. We have a call to go out from the gardens of death and be a part of Jesus’ living, breathing, transforming life in the world. We have a call to point to resurrection moments when we see them, resurrection experiences when we have them, and declare, “He IS here! He has risen!’ We have a call to look at the new green sprouts that are springing up from the dead earth, we have a call to rejoice at every person rescued from the rubble in Haiti, we have a call to point to the faith and commitment of youth who give up their vacation to serve the forgotten in the Gulf, we have a call revel in the beauty of songs sung, hymns played, art and creativity shared and declare with full voice, “He is here! He has risen!”

And we have a call to join this resurrection life ourselves. We have a call to be a part of bringing his life to the world, be a part of God’s work that is going on all around us if we just open our eyes to see it, if we just open our ears to listen for it, if we just open our calendars and our lives to participate in it. We have a call to rise above the terror we face when we find ourselves in the places of death because the good news has already been shared; it has already been let loose in the world – He is not here, but has risen! Let us go find and join his life in the world! Alleluia!

In the Middle of All This

Luke 9:28-43

Anytime a passage begins with a reference to some other event, it clues me in that these two might be connected in some way. Maybe the first informs how I will read the second or the second explains the first further. Either way, when a passage starts “Now about eight days after these sayings,” as today’s does, I think we just have to go back and see what “these sayings” are before we can go forward to see what was so important that took place eight days later.

In this case, it turns out, they weren’t easy sayings. Eight days before Jesus was asking his disciples who the crowds say that he is. Eight days before Jesus posed the question to them, “Who do you say that I am?” Eight days before Peter declared “The Messiah of God” and Jesus explained “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” Eight days ago the conversations were difficult and confusing and sounding very un-divine, if there even were such a word. Eight days ago violence was the topic of the day.

Another thing that helps when reading a passage like this one, with a story that comes up again and again, year after year, in the life cycle of the church, is to read a little farther than you usually do to see what comes next. The story of the Transfiguration is always the story on the Sunday right before Lent starts, if we choose to follow the ecumencial lectionary. It works sort of as a transition story – one last epiphany revelation of this Jesus who is also the Christ before we move toward the season of Lent, Jesus’ journey to the cross. On this Sunday, we usually read the story of how that happened on a mountain top.

However, this morning we read a little further. We heard about what happened when Jesus, Peter, John, and James came down from the mountain. Immediately when they get down from this mountaintop experience, they are thrown back into the middle of real life. The crowds are all over them as usual. And, as they have probably come to expect, in the crowd is at least one very needy person. A man, a father, yells out for Jesus to come take a look at his tragically sick, demon-possessed son.

Hard times never wait, do they? The sick, the cursed, the poor, the aching, those gripped by demons and spirits, they are always there and always pressing for healing, freedom, release from captivity. On the mountain top the disciples and Jesus may have experienced a moment of divine other-worldliness and revelation, but as they came down the mountain they ran face-to-face right back into the real world and the life they had left behind, if only for the night.

It’s a world we know well. A world where, like before the experience on the mountain, violence is always a topic of concern. A world where an elementary school teacher shoots a principal and vice-principal, a biology professor opens fire in the middle of a faculty meeting. A world where bombs blast in bakeries. A world where military operations against difficult to define opponents are a part of our everyday news and concern.

We know other kinds of tragedy, too. A young athlete killed chasing his dreams. A artist in his prime takes his own life. The citizens of one of the poorest nations in the world are paralyzed under the weight of rubble from their destroyed cities and villages. Diagnoses are received and cancer has returned with little hope for successful treatment. The world we face, the life we live, at the bottom of the mountain might leave many of us wishing we could turn and run back to the top to remember and relish in the glory that was revealed. The world we face living at the bottom of the mountain is messy, tragic, and earthy. It can feel un-divine and as if it is spiraling out of control.

It’s everything the Transfiguration isn’t. Up on that mountain, it’s as if they have left the world behind. Up on that mountain, as Jesus is praying, the divine mingles with creation. It becomes what Celtic Christians call a “thin place,” a place where heaven and earth touch, where God seems more readily present, more easily accessed than in the day-to-day. Up on that mountain, the heroes of years gone by come to offer support and testimony to God's faithfulness; they provide a link to the promises and miracles of the past and speak of the future that is still yet to come. Up on that mountain, even if only for a little while, the veil is lifted and the glory of God shines brighter than the sun. The incarnation, God in human flesh, Emmanuel, God with us, is revealed and the divine voice is heard loud and clear, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

There is no doubt who is in control. There is no doubt that the Holy One is present and in charge. There seems in that moment so little need to worry about anything that Peter rushes to find a way to make it last forever. There is something eternal about the experience, ethereal, mystical, revealing, and comforting. The veil has been lifted and, as terrifying as it is at the same time, everything seems right with the world.

Who wouldn’t want to stay? Who wouldn’t want to pitch a tent, build a booth, and just camp out up there forever where God is obvious, Jesus is within arms’ reach, and the beacon of the Spirit’s radiance is blinding? Who wouldn’t want to stay when the only talk of what will happen down there is talk of departure, a second exodus, what Jesus has already said would be a violent end? Who wouldn’t be like Peter wanting to stay in this thin place forever?

Going back down the mountain means going back to the reality of what waits, masses of suffering people without reliable healthcare, endless political arguments that seem to only divide the public more instead of bring them closer to understanding and mutual purpose, the starving and the near starving waiting at the fringe for someone to notice them and help them fill their bowls, the threat of violence that might break out at an unexpected turn in the road. Going back down the mountain means going back down into the middle of all this where the signs of God’s presence aren’t as obvious as the sudden appearance of dazzling white clothes, a face that shines like the sun, and heavenly conferences with Moses and Elijah. It means re-entering a messy, needy, tragic, and broken world where it seems, at least, there are few obvious signs of the presence and glory of God…

…which is exactly why Jesus does it. Reality hits as soon as they descend. A crowd hits them first, and rising above the din of the crowd comes the shout of an anxious and desperate father. His son is suffering at the hands of a spirit that squeezes him and shakes him and causes him to shriek uncontrollably. The father, like any father would, tried everything and even brought his boy to the disciples of the one about whom he had heard so much. Yet, when the Teacher wasn’t around the students seemed incompetent, and it’s to them that I believe Jesus addresses his frustration.

He isn’t going to be around forever. He made that clear in the week before. His physical presence in the middle of this hurting world is limited and seems to be drawing closer and closer to an end. He isn’t always going to be the one who is here in the middle of the suffering and the pain, and his worry seems to be that after this departure he discussed with Moses and Elijah no one will be there to carry out his ministry of compassion, his mission to release those held captive by evil spirits and systems.

The disciples don’t seem to get it yet that this is their job. They don’t seem to get that by the power of their relationship with Jesus, by their proximity to him, they have the ability to do his work in the world. They have MORE than the ability, they have the responsibility, the mandate to act as he would act, to heal as he would heal, to serve as he would serve, to love as he would love. They have the call and apparently, whether they know it or not, whether they have trust and faith in it or not, they have the power to make changes in the lives of those who are suffering and struggling.

At that moment they don’t seem to have that trust and faith. They don’t have the whole picture yet. The predictions of Jesus’ death are still just predications, not the foretelling we know them to be. The foreshadowing of the glorious radiance of the resurrected Jesus glowing in dazzling white clothes is just an image in their minds, not a connection to what we know will come again in the future. They don’t have the luxury of knowing what we do – that this one who stands before them and trusts them with his work and his word truly is the one who can free the world from endless cycles of despair – so it’s understandable that they are slow to act in his absence.

Yet it’s less understandable when we mimic their pace. Our world, we can see, isn’t all that different. The technology has changed. The worldview is larger, but around us there is still poverty and violence, unnamed fathers and mothers crying out on behalf of children who are being choked and shaken by the circumstances that grip their lives. And still Jesus is expecting his followers to do something about it. Still Jesus is anticipating and mandating that those who bear his name in the world, bear it with his same passion for healing and serving those who need it most. Still Jesus is calling the Church to step up in faith to use the gifts we have been given not to perpetuate an institution, but to share his love, his glory, his presence with those around us who need it the most.

The Transfiguration doesn’t occur in a vacuum. It isn’t an event isolated from the story and the world around it. It is a miraculous glimpse of hope in world that can seem hopeless. It is the lifting of a veil, a revelation that even in the middle of all of this God is still in charge. It is at demonstration of the power that is inside and behind this Jesus we claim to follow, the power that is inside and behind the community of believers who follow in his name and his steps. For just a moment, in this thin place at the top of a mountain the glory of God was revealed, but that doesn’t have to be the end of revelation.

It happened again and again in the gospel accounts. It can and should be happening again and again today. Every time a son or daughter was healed by his word or touch, the glory and will of God was revealed. Every time a starving belly was filled with the bread from his hands, the glory and will of God was revealed. Every time a word of challenge was or IS spoken to authorities who oppress and belittle the people they serve, the glory and will of God is revealed. Every time a person in poverty or on its brink is given the tools she needs to live a fulfilling life, the glory and will of God is revealed.

This is our call as his followers. This is our mission as the ones who trust in his life and his name. We have been changed and empowered by the same Spirit that changed his face before the eyes of Peter, John, and James. May our words and actions reflect that change, and reveal his love and compassion as brightly in middle of all we see.