Heritage Presbyterian Church

Love Grows Here

Sunday’s Sermon – What Are You Doing Here? – 1 Kings 19:8-15a

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Have you ever gotten somewhere and forgotten how you got there? We do it all the time with daily routines, going into auto-pilot mode for our most mundane tasks or daily excursions, so much so that sometimes we stop paying attention to what is happening until something out of the ordinary happens and gets our attention. Or, better yet – have you ever gotten somewhere and forgotten why you were there? Maybe it’s the grocery store or Target, or even your living room. You know you went in there for a reason, but for the life of you, you can’t remember what it was. Some say it’s a sign of aging, which is in part true, but it can also happen when we are stressed out or tired, and lack the capacity to retain information any longer.

This is where Elijah finds himself in our text. He is stressed out to the max, and on the run from Jezebel, longing for relief. He even asks the Lord to take his life; he is at his end. He finds himself revived in the wilderness, thanks to the attentiveness of angels sent from the Lord with bread and water. And while that sustains him physically, his spirit is still depleted. We hear earlier in the story of how Elijah is down and out, convinced that he is a failure as a prophet. Choon-Leong Seow describes his state this way:

This chapter is blatantly honest about the humanity of God’s servants . . . He appears to be totally worn out, fatigued . . . He complains. . . He needs to be told to eat. His view of reality is distorted. He is quick to blame others for the situation in which he has found himself. He feels all alone. Given his attitude, one should expect a divine rebuke. There is not one, however. Instead, there is a series of epiphanies . . . God does not let him go simply because he is burned out and depressed[i].

God responds in the opposite way, providing him the very basic things he needs to survive: bread and water, and calls him instead on a journey through the wilderness. Now, this is not the first time God has called a prophet into the wilderness. The Israelites hearing this story would have immediately connected the journey to that of Moses in Exodus, spending 40 days and nights with God on Mount Sinai. Here, God leads Elijah to Mount Horeb, which is the name used for Sinai in Deuteronomy. Such leading reminds us that:

when forces in the world threaten us, when our bodies or spirits turn against us, there is One who seeks us, One who meets us, One who heals us, whose love washes over us and sets us free for joy. This One is the Lord[ii].

God calls to Elijah with a question, “what are you doing here, Elijah?” (verse 9). It’s that moment of awakening, when you blink and come to your senses and try to orient yourself. ?” It’s as if God is displeased by Elijah’s flight, and wants Elijah to reset the course. We all need to hear this kind of call-out questions in life now and again. Sometimes we can offer them to ourselves; other times we need to hear them from others, and we hope they come from those who love us and have the best intentions in mind, rather than call-outs that are intended to shame us into correction.  When done well, they become our re-orientation points, invitations to gain perspective and reevaluate our purpose so that we can pick back up the difficult everyday tasks of life and make it through. Sometimes our reflections on them are short-lived, but other times, as in the case of Elijah, they represent major turning points in our lives. Elijah is not only having a work crisis, but a spiritual one as well. In theological terms, we call this experience in the cave one of discernment – the process through which we seek to understand God’s will and then try to figure out how we can take a part in it.

But it’s not just limited to Elijah, or those on a hike in the wilderness. Such an experience is open to us, too. Our text this morning can be seen as an invitation to experience God’s unexpected encouragement for perseverance in the daily mazes of our lives, whether we are facing abundance, adversity, or dulling routine[iii].

When our souls are “disquieted within us” as the Psalmist says, we are invited to take refuge in God and hope in God, trusting that even in the midst of confusion about who we are, and who we are called to be, God is with us still.

In the Hebrew scriptures, the God of Israel often appeared in fantastic and dramatic ways. When we seek to encounter God with our questions, we yearn for those clear signs. Have you ever begged God for a burning bush, or some other direct divine revelation about what you are to do? I have. In seminary I would somewhat jokingly say that God would have to send a great fish, a la the Jonah story, to get me to figure things out. And yet, none of those tremendous things has happened to me, not yet anyway. Sometimes, it seems, God works in more subtle ways. This is what Elijah finds in 1 Kings. Did you catch the phrase that repeats after the wind, the earthquake, and the fire? “but God was not in” that tremendous sound. That is not to say that God never does those things. Indeed, we know God has from other Biblical narratives. But rather here, God acts in a new and perhaps more challenging way. God is heard in “the sound of sheer silence.”

A quick Hebrew lesson for you:

The words translated “a sound of sheer silence” (qol demamah daqqah) can have more than one meaning . . . Qol can mean either sound or voice, demamah can refer to a whisper, silence, or stillness (see Ps 107:29), and daqqah can mean thin, small, fine, or sheer. . . . In contrast to the thundering presence of the storm god Baal, Israel’s God is now present in “a sound of silence,” as in the sound of calm after a storm[iv].

It can be translated many ways, including “the sound of fine silence,” or conveying the sense of a hushed whisper.  Such a sound allows for a centering, a meaningful pause. In the literary world, it might be classified as a “pregnant pause,” one that has energy brewing behind it, just on the cusp of something to be revealed.

This morning, I want to invite you to place yourselves in this story with Elijah, to join him in sitting with this question “what are you doing here?” and reflect on your sense of God’s presence in your life and the direction in which the Spirit might be nudging you.  To help us truly engage in this moment, I will read part of our text again slowly with some help from Denise to capture the movement. Our time will include some significant moments of silence, during which I ask that you remain in that stillness and silence as best as you are able, allowing God’s presence to wash over you. Let us prepare to hear God’s Word anew to us:

11He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord,

[Denise plays – something swirling]

but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake,

[Denise plays – something with lots of rumbling]

but the Lord was not in the earthquake; 12and after the earthquake a fire,

[Denise plays – something that resembles “crackling”]

but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.

[Significant pause]

13When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

[Shorter pause]

What was this like for you? Take a few moments to check in with yourself.

The silence in this story is striking, particularly because it comes from God. Sometimes, we don’t know what to do with such a pause, or perceived silence from God. Renita J. Weems reflects on this in an autobiographical memoir, saying:

No one is ever prepared to endure the long silence that follows intimacy . . . no one is prepared to face it when it follows a season of intimacy with God. It is the hardest thing to talk about, and it is the hardest thing in the spiritual journey to prepare for[v].

She’s right. We don’t tend to like silence in our faith. It seemingly calls immediate attention to all the things we don’t know about God, or about ourselves – it highlights all the questions that we have about our faith and lives, and even in times of discernment, can bring about more questions than answers. And yet, embracing these moments are a crucial part of the faith journey, alongside a fervent trust that God is with us in these moments of silence, just as God was with Elijah. Weems continues by saying

Perhaps God is not silent but rather is waiting – waiting for human beings to gather their thoughts, compose themselves, regain their speech, and find their way back into the give-and-take of intimacy with God[vi].

Maybe that’s truly what discernment is all about; not so much discovering a specific set of actions we are supposed to do, but discovering how to reconnect with God when we are jolted out of a faith lived in auto-pilot, and forced to renew our understanding of purpose.

In the Superman movie, Man of Steel, a young Clark Kent becomes overwhelmed by all of the chaos in a school classroom. To escape his sensory overload, he literally bolts from the room, and is found hiding in the quiet comforts of the janitor closet. With teachers and students gathered outside, urging him to come out, his mother bursts into the hallway. Calmly, she kneels down by the door, and softly speaks to her son. She asks if he hears her voice. He responds yes. She tells him to focus on that, just her voice, to make it his island and swim toward it. After some time and lots of determination, Clark emerges and is immediately embraced by the loving arms of his mother.

After the sound of silence, Elijah emerges from the cave, humble and ready to hear what God would reveal. Here he experiences a bit of de ja vu, with God asking again “What are you doing here?” and Elijah offering the same response. Such repetition reminds us that even in times of discernment, we can come out in a similar place. And yet, God doesn’t leave Elijah there. God provides direction, specific directions about whom to anoint as the next king, and to whom Elijah is to pass on his mantle of leadership.

In other words, God tells Elijah to go back to work. Elijah does not have to give up his frustration, but God will not let him give in to it[vii].

The same is true for us today. In the midst of difficult decisions and discernment, and when confronted with challenging situations in our lives and our world, God does not just let us throw up our hands, declare it all doomed, and go hide in a cave. Instead, through the Holy Spirit, God nudges us into contemplation and reflection with the question “what are you doing here?” Such a question prompts us into active response to the world, and reminds us that we have been created for a purpose. There is work for us to do. Sometimes discovering what that is involves pausing, and listening that hushed whisper. Because it in we know that we are not alone. The God who is alongside us in our chaos, who accompanies us into the wilderness, and who sits with us in the cave, is also the God who leads us out and remains with us, in whirlwinds, in earthquakes, in fires, and yes, even in the sounds of sheer silence. May we find God, and ourselves, there. Amen.

 

Sermon Preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

Heritage Presbyterian Church, June 23, 2019

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[i] Choon-Leong Seow, “1 Kings 19:8b-18” New Interpreter’s Bible, 145.

[ii] Feasting on the Word: Worship Companion, Liturgies for Year C, Volume 2, Kimberly Bracken Long, editor. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

[iii] Carrie N. Mitchell, “Pastoral Perspective: 1 Kings 19:1-4 (5-7), 8-15a.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 146.

[iv] Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer, “Exegetical Perspective: 1 Kings 19:1-4 (5-7), 8-15a.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 151.

[v] Renita J. Weems. Listening for God: A Minister’s Journey Through Silence and Doubt. (New York: Simon & Shuster, 1999), 25.

[vi] Weems, 67.

[vii] Haywood Barringer Spangler, “Homiletical Perspective: 1 Kings 19:1-4 (5-7), 8-15a.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 151.

Sunday’s Sermon – Key Changes – Acts 9:1-20

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This sermon was preached as a part of “Visioning Sunday,” sharing and celebrating God’s call to a new chapter together at Heritage. For more about the context of our new mission/vision statement as well as core values, please go to  https://www.heritagepres.com/visioning/

If there’s one thing we post-Resurrection people know about God, it’s that our God is a God of tremendous change. Change is at the heart of our theological identity. Throughout the biblical narrative we see how God is changing the world, and perhaps more importantly, changing the people who are in it. Our text from Acts 9 delivers on this in dramatic fashion. Clearly Saul undergoes a tremendous change on the road to Damascus. He makes an about face, quite literally turning his life around. We hear songs of praise about “seeing the light.” We marvel in his apparent conversion and his dramatic experience of Christ along the way. We say to each other, “yes, this is the kind of change God brings about.”

This text paired with our visioning might bring about some anxiety to you this morning as we think about what the future holds for our congregation. As we consider the proposed mission and vision statement and core values, we become keenly aware that change is on the horizon. Our next step, strategic planning, will include analyzing ministries and sharing ideas for new initiatives. It seems that change is inevitable.

David LaMotte, a singer/songwriter, peacemaker and speaker, writes about change in a book titled Worldchanging 101: Challenging the Myth of Powerlessness. He challenges the ways we often view change and our role in it in the world in relation to a “Hero Narrative.” That is, we asasume that “things change when someone extraordinary encounters a moment of crisis and does something dramatic[1].” Sound familiar? We are quick to assume that all of our experiences of great change, in life or in faith, have to happen like they did with Saul on the road to Damascus.  But nestled within this text is another story of change that I think might be more compelling and applicable as we engage in visioning together in the character of Ananias.

Have you ever been singing along to your favorite song on the radio, grooving with your windows down, drumming on the steering wheel, when all of a sudden the music shifts? A bridge comes in, throwing you off the predictable verse and chorus pattern and changing the feel of the song? Often, this shift brings along something else with it – a key change. Key changes present a similar melody heard in a different way. They indicate growth. They challenge us – that note that was just at the top of our range now threatens to be out of reach. They can change the whole feel of the song. Although they are less dramatic than say, changing the radio station entirely to get to a new song, I think these more subtle changes, key changes, add incredible dimension to our favorite songs, and are worth our attention and appreciation. They remind us that change isn’t always about learning a totally different song; it’s about modulation, which simply adds interest and dimension to the rich melody and pattern that already is there.

This is the story of Ananias. Not much is said about him, but we assume he’s your status-quo new Christian. He’s a faithful disciple living to Damascus, and like any good disciple, has volunteered when called upon by God. That is, until he hears what God wants him to do. You can imagine him saying, “Hold on just a minute, God, you want me to do WHAT? Don’t you know WHO this guy is? He’s out to get all of us, by any means necessary. You’ve got to be kidding me.” God, of course, doesn’t miss a beat, assuring Ananias that God does know what God is doing. God is in charge, and will take care of what needs to be taken care of in regards to Saul. But God has bigger plans for Saul that involve sharing the most incredible story of all to not only God’s people Israel, but to the Gentiles, too. Although it shouldn’t be too surprising to Ananias or us that God uses an imperfect person with a troubled past to share the good news, the reality of it being Saul, an active, avid, rabid persecutor of Christians, makes it almost impossible to imagine, much less support.  Some doubt is understandable and expected. After all, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” And we are all familiar with the idea of “fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” We approach things cautiously, particularly when it involves personal risk of harm. This, in the most critical of ways, is the experience of Ananias.

To be clear, God isn’t asking Ananias to have the kind of reversal or conversion that it appears Saul is undergoing. But God is asking Ananias to change his tune, to elevate his discipleship to a new level that may very well be a reach for him. God is asking Ananias to experience a tremendous life-view change that widens his understanding of who is included in God’s kingdom, who God is calling to lead, and what it literally looks like to follow Christ.

David LaMotte reminds us that,

It is not naïve to think that you can change the world. In fact, it is naïve to think that you could possibly be in the world and not change it. Everything you do changes the world whether you like it or not. So the questions we must ask ourselves are, ‘Which changes will we make?’, and ‘How will we go about making them?’[2]

Cue the bridge and key change, because Ananias follows God’s instructions. He enters the house and completes the task at hand, laying his hands on one who by all accounts would be his enemy, and trusting the Holy Spirit to cover the rest. It is an incredible moment of reconciliation, as Ananias names Saul as a brother in faith. His faithfulness allows Saul to complete his conversion and go on to proclaim Jesus as Lord. And, of course, we know that Paul’s story doesn’t end here. He has a lot more to say about Christ, and the church is richer because of his wisdom and writings even today.

For Ananias, change came because of God’s vision, and his willingness to listen. Even when it seemed counterintuitive, he was willing to shift, just a little bit, and open himself to the possibility that God had a bigger perspective than he did. He trusted in God’s guidance and was willing to follow and see where it led.

I love that this is the text for us today, because it reminds us that we don’t have to rewrite the songs or invent a totally new melody in order to be a part of what God is doing. Perhaps we are simply called to take the good news that we know and put it through a key change. That’s what our Visioning process is all about. It’s less about those grand hero moments and sweeping changes, and instead about finding out the work that is ours to do next. To be willing, as Ananias was, to discover God’s vision and have the courage to say we will try to be disciples in ways that are familiar AND in ways that are surprising. So that the song God has given us, as individuals and as a community of faith, might take on new life to carry us into the future. May it be so. Amen.

~sermon  by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford,  Heritage Presbyterian Church, May 5, 2019

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[1] David LaMotte, Worldchanging 101: Challenging the Myth of Powerlessness. (Black Mountain, NC: Dryad Publishing, 2014).

[2] LaMotte.

Sunday’s Sermon – Be Thou My Vision – 1 Kings 3:3-14

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God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed,
courage to change the things that should be changed,
and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other[i].

Sound familiar? These are the earliest form of the Serenity prayer, most-often attributed to American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr in the 1930s or 40s, perhaps inspired through his work in collaboration with other civic leaders of the time, such as long-time YWCE official Winnifred Crane Wygal[ii]. A variation is championed by Alcoholics Anonymous and other recovery groups as a model prayer of humility and desire for real change in the lives of the individual and the world, and it is second perhaps only to the Lord’s Prayer in terms of usage and familiarity.

In times of transition and change, it makes sense to ask God for guidance, and certainly for wisdom as we seek to figure things all out. To do so means that we acknowledge there is a higher power and we remember that we cannot do everything on our own. It also serves as our affirmation that we do not have to try to do so, for we have a guide and guardian, a companion on our journey in the one who loves us and calls us and claims us.

Our text this morning drops us in the midst of such a prayer. A bit of context to orient us:

The books known as First and Second Kings were once a single structure, the last book in a saga that included Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, and Samuel. It received its final shape in the early period of the Babylonian exile. Its intended audience would have included the leaders who were deported to Babylon, the poor who were left behind in Jerusalem, and the Jews who had taken refuge in Egypt[iii].

The story of Solomon provides identity for the people of God once again. It provides a meaning to life to replace what has been lost in defeat and exile, beginning with the story of a new king in the midst of a dream, with God appearing before him and asking what he wants.

Can you imagine if God showed up and asked you to name one thing you wanted? What would you answer? The image of God as almost a fairy godmother or genie in a lamp is generally not a favorable one to embrace theologically, but here, in the context of a dream, it opens the door to the enormity of possibilities that come from the involvement of the Almighty. The sky truly appears to be the limit for Solomon. It is interesting to note that the surrounding chapters, and indeed the totality of the story of Solomon, often present power struggles and conflicting personality traits within the king, who more often than not gives into the darker side of power and pride during his kingship. But here, even if just for a moment, we glimpse a humble leader who prayerfully asks for something as profound and meaningful as that classic Serenity Prayer that would follow centuries later.

In many Bibles, Solomon’s prayer is subtitled as a “prayer for wisdom,” with language that reveals the breadth and depth of such a request. In verse 9 he asks for an “understanding mind[iv],” which can also be translated or understood as a “discerning heart[v],” or as Eugene Peterson puts it, “a God-listening heart[vi].” This reminds us that wisdom can be measured in many different ways. It is distinct from just being “smart” or having a high IQ; it reflects a soundness of judgment based on knowledge and experience. In the context of prayer, wisdom is God-centered, involving a vision that comes not internally but externally from the Divine. A few weeks ago, one of our own members noted in a meeting that wisdom is about “taking a step back and having the ability to ‘breathe from your heart.’” That, for me, is a perfect encapsulation of this dream moment, and the desire expressed by Solomon.

In his prayer, Solomon is asking for his will and perception of the world to be in line with God’s. He is seeking a new vision for the people of God at a new time in their history:

Solomon does not need a rod and staff like Moses, because the Jews are not in captivity. Nor does he need military resources like his father David. The challenges before Solomon will be mostly administrative as he attempts to bring together tribes from the north and south under one united governing establishment[vii].

And so he seeks God’s guidance and insights. If he had known the Irish poet of the 8th century, he might have broken out into the song played so beautifully by our bells and which we will sing later in the service: “Be Thou My Vision.”

Whether in song or in the Serenity prayer, or even joining Solomon himself, these are big prayers to pray. To seek wisdom and vision from God is a humble act of faith that releases a wave of unknowns as we dare to loosen our tight grips on the things we know and allow ourselves to be shaped by God in perhaps surprising ways. It means paying attention to things that we do without thinking, such as our very breath, and bringing an increased awareness of our own rhythms. It may feel unnatural at first, but once we get the hang of it, we often find that our breath deepens and we have a stronger connection to God and to one another.  There, we find the same treasure as described in Proverbs, a book of wisdom sayings often attributed to Solomon himself, and we will become more faithful in our walk with our Lord.

Today, we are beginning some of that work as a community as we launch a Visioning process that will take the better part of the next year.  Our hope is to have a collaborative, shared vision for the future of Heritage Presbyterian Church that all who are a part of our community – whether you have been a member since the early years or have just walked in our door – might be inspired by as we go about following Christ together here in Acworth.

It is a method of discernment that takes time, and will happen in several ways. In just a few moments, you will be given a short, four-question initial survey about your perceptions of our church. I hope that all of you will participate. Even if this is your first time, we would love to hear your thoughts and first impressions. We also want the thoughts of our children – Merry Willis and Barbara Jessee will meet them at the door by the PRAYground in just a few moments to spend more active time with these questions in the Choir Room. If you complete the survey this morning, you are welcome to place it in the offering plate as one of your gifts to God today. You can also bring it with you to our tailgate lunch and place it in a basket in the Fellowship Hall, or return it to the church office. During the tailgate, you can add other thoughts on these questions to larger papers at the entrance, and these questions along with more information about our process will also be sent in an e-mail newsletter tomorrow, with a link to an online survey with the same questions so that all may participate.

So, why take time for this today in the midst of worship? It’s more than just because you are all sitting here and hopefully paying attention. We are beginning here because we want to follow in the steps of Solomon’s dream-prayer, and to remind ourselves that before anything else, our hopes and dreams for our congregation are about our relationship with God. We are not just putting forth our own set of objectives and strategies; we are seeking wisdom from God. We are asking the Holy Spirit to infuse our work and help God’s vision be our vision for the future. This is the only way I know to truly and faithfully follow Christ – by remembering that he is the one leading us!

This is meant to be a time of prayer and reflection, both for our congregation and for us as individuals. I hope it will also inspire you to reflect on the places in your life where you desire God’s wisdom. What are you discerning right now, and how might you invite Christ to be an intentional companion with you in that journey? What things do you need to let go of a bit and allow the Spirit to help you see them in new ways, through God’s eyes? When we sing together, could “be thou my vision” be your prayer today?

As we begin this time of visioning, hear these words from Thomas Blair:

Wisdom has to do with whom we entrust ourselves to; who we know can fill our empty buckets; whom we most believe, trust, and confide in. If we do not know what resources we have, we cannot use them to make happen what we want to happen. If we do not know what we want to happen, then we will not even know what to wish for in the first place. Wisdom arrives when the soul discerns its destiny, when life aligns in sync with the soul[viii].

Friends, may we humbly enter a time of prayer and reflection, breathing in the spirit of God and seeking wisdom with understanding, God-listening hearts . . .

 

Shared in worship on September 9, this initial survey is also available online:
https://forms.office.com/Pages/ResponsePage.aspx?id=JkvAr5sI1ky58Co_KAkTvlK0GByoA79FkGuJUA8Ih2ZUN1JOWVhRNDRPWk9CQktWNFJKVVk5RUQ2UC4u 

Survey Questions:

  1. If you could name one thing that is most important to you regarding your involvement with HPC what would it be?
  2. The things that concern me most about HPC are:
  3. Where do you hope God will lead HPC in the next 3 years?
  4. Other reflections about our church/congregation.

Follow the link above to submit your responses online, or return them to the church office (office@heritagepres.com). Additional paper copies are available in the Narthex, and can be returned in the offering plate on September 16.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 9, 2018

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[i] Fred Shapiro, “Who Wrote the Serenity Prayer?” July/August 2008 article in Yale Alumni Magazine, http://archives.yalealumnimagazine.com/issues/2008_07/serenity.html , accessed 9/6/2018.
[ii] For further discussion of authorship, see also https://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/11/us/11prayer.html.
[iii] Heather Murray Elkins, “Homiletical Perspective: 1 Kings 3:5-12,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[iv] New Revised Standard Version.
[v] New International Version. The King James Version uses “an understanding heart.”
[vi] The Message (a paraphrase by Eugene Peterson).
[vii] John L. Thomas, Jr, “Theological Perspective: 1 Kings 3:5-12,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[viii] Thomas W. Blair, “Pastoral Perspective: 1 Kings 3:5-12,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

Sunday’s Sermon – Listen. Look. Arise. – Song of Solomon 2:8-17

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Imagine for a moment, life before Caller ID. The phone would ring, and you would not know who it was. So, you’d answer, and moments later some sort of greeting would come from the voice on the other end. I remember calling my grandfather, and how there would always be a slight pause after I chirped “Hi Paw-Paw!” I could hear him smile on the other end, and the warmth in the tone of his voice carried across the line. “Well, Elizabeth Kaye” he would always say, using my full name more often than not. It was more than just a cursory interaction to get conversation going; it was a moment of discovery and shared connection. He knew my voice. Whose voices do you recognize without a name on a screen or their face in front of you – parents? a best friend? I’ve found that even without seeing, I can pretty quickly determine whether a crying child belongs to me or not. Even the youngest infants will turn at a mother’s voice.  Our ears seem trained on some voices, whether by instinct or simply hearing them more often.

Today’s text from the Song of Solomon begins with such a warm connection, as the poet hears the voice of her beloved, bounding in her direction. This book, not often one read from the pulpit, is a beautiful poetic masterpiece tucked into our Biblical canon, offering a sensual and profound reflection on one of life’s greatest gifts – love. The lyrics are descriptive and erotic, celebrating physical aspects of love and affection that may even make us blush when read, but laid out before us without shame. Instead, in this book we find a celebration of love the way it is meant to be, marked by passion and the sensuality of nature alongside mutual and reciprocal affection filled with delight.

Throughout the centuries of biblical interpretation, people of God have wrestled with what to make of it. Some have wondered if these are more historical poems referring to an actual human couple, such as Solomon, to whom the book is attributed, and a peasant bride. Contemporary scholars have offered that perhaps these are more anonymous secular ones, noting the similarities in style and function to Egyptian, Arabic, and Syrian love poems from around the same time. The most classic interpretation, is that it seems to serve as a masterful allegory of God’s love for Israel, although like the book of Esther, it never mentions the name of God directly. This morning, I’d like to offer a thought that resonated with me this week: rather than trying to draw a distinction between history and allegory, perhaps they aren’t really that different after all in relation to this book helping us better understand love – both in our relationships with others and in our relationship with God.  Julia O’Brien notes that the lives of the soul and of the body are not that distinct, saying:

To be in love is to live beyond the boundaries of the self and to enter a realm of sheer delight, in which the human and divine can merge. Human love both allows us to celebrate God through our bodies and educates us in loving and being loved . . . [Song of Solomon] celebrates and perhaps even creates the feelings of passionate desiring and knowing oneself to be passionately desired. While loving and being loved are not the only goals of human existence, they can be transformative experiences that not only lead us to praise the One who makes joy possible but also exercise our capacities for love. Glimpsing oneself not as perfect but perfect for someone, wanted, sought after, is a cause for singing both secular love songs and hymns[i].

This passage in particular invites us into the joyful anticipation of being connected – to nature, to one another, and to God. It is a song of hope, brimming with energy, inspiring us to enter a new season of being in the world where we might be transformed by the renewing power of love, be it human or divine. How fitting to come to this text on the cusp of the beginning of fall and at a time in our church year when several new things are springing up around us. Next week, we will celebrate another beginning of learning and growing together in faith, and at the same time launch a longer visioning process in which we hope to be attentive to God’s guidance for our congregation in the future. Today’s verses prepare us for such a new vision and fresh start, with encouragement for how we might best engage with each other and with God in the process. It can be summarized in 3 verbs that almost outline our text: Listen, Look, and Arise.

Listen. That is what catches our attention, along with the poetess, at the beginning of the passage. Listening implies a certain posture of readiness; not being so self-involved or fixated on a task at hand that we become oblivious to the world around us. To listen to another person is one of the greatest gifts we can give one another. Rather than just waiting to insert our opinion, when we are truly listening, we are setting our own egos aside and are fully engrossed in accepting the gift of what someone else has to say to us. In a moment, our listening affirms that person’s self and says “I care about you. I’m here.” It is the most powerful relationship tool we can have with each other, yet it is one of the most difficult ones to maintain in the midst of all the noise around us.

In the case of our faith, listening for God’s voice can feel like a daunting task. It is awkward and confusing as we try to discern which is God’s voice and which are the voices around us. Nevertheless, we are called to listen for it, attentively, prayerfully. To do so well means engaging in a deep relationship with our Creator. The more we spend time in conversation with God, otherwise known as prayer, and the more we engage with God’s Word as revealed in Scripture, the sooner we begin to pick up on the whispers of God’s voice around us. Listening, with those we love, and with God, is an activity marked by relationship. Even before we are able to see what is coming, we hear the voice of our beloved.

When this happens, we cannot help but look. Our energy picks up and we begin to scan the horizon in anticipation of love’s light breaking through. Words evoke a vision for what could be. In this poem, it is clear that things have been difficult, but those days are no longer, “for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone” (verse 11). Such words imply that what has been spoken is not just sweet nothings or platitudes, but hope that springs even from dry places. It implies the reality of those things in life that keep us shut in and frozen, or looking out at dreary skies once again with lament. While it should be noted that any one relationship should not be the be-all-end-all of our happiness, it is certainly true that the love we share with others has the potential to turn even our worst days around. What is more, being connected with others helps us look in new directions. How often has a friend comforted you and helped you see things in a more positive way, or work through something? Or perhaps there has been tough-love, when a loved one forces you to take a hard look at some things that are not good for you or those around you. To look as a follow up of listening means that we truly “see” one another, not just on a surface level, but in deep real ways that encompass the whole spectrum of emotions and experiences. Looking involves both an awareness of the past, an honest analysis of the present, and even the ability to begin to imagine the possibilities of the future. It is seeing things as they have been and are, but in a way that is mindful they don’t always have to be that way.

For the people of God hearing these words from Song of Solomon, there may have also been a deep longing for a restored relationship with the Divine. When all else seems to have failed, we too search the horizons for signs of hope and promise. Looking is also discovering the possibilities and beauty in the world. When we look in this way, we engage in an appreciation of the amazing work of our Creator. It is no surprise that this poem is rich with images of nature – it is one way we glimpse the love of God for us, and all of the world. To take the pleasure in looking is to revel in God’s glory, and to open ourselves to God’s vision for the world, as it is, and as it should be.

Together, listening and looking lead us into a new vision – for our relationships with others, and for our relationship with the Divine. They draw us into authentic, intimate encounters in ways that transform us, and become an invitation for a new way of being in the world. Arise, repeated several times in the poem, is our summons to not just hear and see from a distance, but participate in the new creation that is springing forth. It reminds us that for love to be fully personified it must be acted upon. We cannot just assign it some words and paint verbal pictures of the beauty of nature. We must engage it with our whole selves and act.

This is the message of James in a nutshell, captured in the verses that accompany our poem in the lectionary. They remind us that in our lives and in our faith, it is not enough to simply think or say that we believe something. Our faith has to lead us to action if it is to be alive and true.

Listen. Look. Arise. These are the markers of strong, committed, intimate relationships. When we practice them, as individuals and community, they lead us to a rhythm of life marked by love and faith. They become our way of live, interwoven with creation, with each other, and with our Creator, and our lives will be richer as a result. A new season is coming. May these words, and the Word of God, lead us into it and into the new possibilities it contains, so that our lives ring out with poetry and song. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 2, 2018

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[i] Julia M. O’Brien, “Exegetical Perspective: Song of Solomon 2:8-13,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

Sunday’s Sermon – Sleeping In – 1 Samuel 3:1-10, Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

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Do you think Eli just wanted five more minutes of sleep, or at least peace and quiet? Rest, after all, is hard to come by. Studies consistently show that very few of us get the suggested seven or eight hours at night, and for a variety of reasons, much of that becomes interrupted. So perhaps Eli just wanted a moment to collect himself before another day in the temple; another day of endless questions from the young Samuel; another day of wondering where God was in the midst of it all. His eyesight had grown dim, which we might read as a sign of aging, yes, but also a sense that the priest’s theological vision and faith might be waning as well.

“The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread,” begins our story. It was a quiet, somber time for God’s people that followed a difficult cycle which we read about in Judges. Throughout that book we hear the refrain “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” God would send the people a judge to correct their ways, and the people would comply, only to eventually falling back into doing whatever they wanted to, prompting God to send yet another judge. They have taken matters into their own hands, taking things where they could get them and essentially ignoring all that God had set before them for ways of living in covenant relationship. Later verses will reveal that Eli’s own sons have abused their positions as priests, committing some pretty heinous sins, including stealing from the offerings and sleeping with women like Hannah who had come to worship God at the tent of meeting.

The picture is fairly bleak, and understandably so the people are cynical, and may have even wondered if God had fallen asleep on them. The narrative grinds to a halt just before our text, with the slow stillness of silence. The people of God have fallen asleep, far from an engaged relationship with the divine.

In 1819, Washington Irving published what has become an iconic short story about “Rip Van Winkle.” It is set in the years before and after the Revolutionary War in a small village at the foot of New York’s Catskill Mountains. The title character is loved, but lazy. He avoids the hard work, so much so that one day he wanders into the mountains and encounters an odd group of old men. He drinks some of what they have to offers, and falls asleep. For twenty years.

A long nap sure is tempting, isn’t it? In these cold winter months, sleeping in is quite the tempting offer. We want to remain comfortable, and so we burrow deeper under our covers where it is warm and cozy. But when applied to our spiritual lives, this proves to be a troublesome metaphor for living. As Commentator Lawrence Wood notes:

We are sleeping. We do not fully sense the divinity around us. Exhaustion has so dulled our hearts, minds, and souls that we can work all day in the temple but never hear God[i].

There are so many draining things in our lives that it is easy to become fatigued and weary. When the world gets heavy, so do our theological eyelids. It can become harder and harder to see God in our midst. We may even turn to other sources for answers. When all seems at a dead end, we resign ourselves to dormancy and sleep. This is the position of Eli, and perhaps other priests in today’s text. They are asleep, and because of this they almost miss the rise of a new day. Fortunately, there is an early bird in their midst.

Samuel, the long awaited and prayed for child from a faithful woman named Hannah, has been dedicated to a life in the temple. We don’t know his exact age, only that he is a young boy, ministering to the Lord. It seems he is not so deep into his sleep that he is unable to be stirred. He hears a voice calling his name. And he responds. Except it isn’t the voice of Eli like he would expect, and so he is sent back to his slumbers. The voice calls again. Again Samuel comes. Again he is dismissed.

A lot can be missed if you stay asleep long enough. After twenty years Rip Van Winkle woke up and discovered that everything had changed, from his appearance to the town. An entire revolution has come and gone, and Rip has missed all of it. Can you imagine missing something as big as this? And yet, we too are at risk of losing sight ourselves of the transformation God is doing in the world. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. offers powerful reflections on this story in a sermon he delivered at the National Cathedral almost exactly fifty years ago. He noted:

one of the great liabilities of life is that all too many people find themselves living amid a great period of social change, and yet they fail to develop the new attitudes, the new mental responses, that the new situation demands. They end up sleeping through a revolution[ii].

As it turns out in this text, God is not sleeping. Far from it. God is about to embark on a radical new way of interacting with God’s people. God is preparing to send them a king to lead and guide them. And God’s voice will not be silenced or ignored. It comes again, surer than the snooze button on your alarm clock, and Samuel is awake. This third time, Eli finally clicks in. It’s the voice of God. Suddenly, everything changes. Eli gives Samuel a response that will shape the course of his future, “speak Lord, for your servant is listening.” The time to sleep has ended.

There is a raved about alarm clock among parents of young children. It’s called the “ok to wake clock.” Essentially, it is a clock to help little ones stay in their room until the right time in the morning, and for ones who can’t yet read the clock, it gives a color cue, turning green when the time comes. Then the child knows that it’s ok to wake up. Our text for this morning should be our “ok to wake” cue to listen to the calls God is placing on our lives.

As Joseph Price describes it:

To be called by God is an act of spiritual intimacy and divine urgency. To be called by God means that God knows one’s name and, in knowing one’s name, exercises a powerful influence on the person. To be called by God also indicates a need for immediate response because the Almighty has indeed summoned one to a specific vocation or course of action[iii].

Call is a powerful thing. It begins by listening, but isn’t fully complete until we respond with our actions, lived out discipleship as we seek to follow Christ. This is what King was getting at when he talked about developing new attitudes and mental responses that the new situations demand in our world. We are called to participate in the ongoing revolution God has going in this world. To do so, we have to wake up and look around, listening with a servant’s heart.

It is fitting that this passage comes to us on a holiday weekend where we remember the life and legacy of Dr. King. He embodied a spirit of wakeful listening, and his words and actions inspired many to listen to callings in their own life to stand up against systemic injustice in our country. Although the work is not yet finished, far from it in fact, his servant spirit lives on. Tomorrow, many will do so with intentional acts of service in his honor. But the truth is, it is ongoing work that should be done every calendar day. The key for us is to pay attention, and listen for God’s word to come to us, even when we least expect it, because we all have a part to play in that calling.

If you find yourself hesitating in your own qualifications, consider the promise laid out in Psalm 139, that God knows us, intimately and deeply, and that we are, body and soul, marvelously made in the image of our creator, shaped from the inside out, created to be a part of what God is doing in the world. It isn’t a journey we travel alone. God is behind us, ahead of us, around us, a “reassuring presence, coming and going[iv].” We were made for this.

We have been knit together in our mother’s womb, and knit together as a part of the family of God. And God calls us not to stay asleep, but to wake up and do something with the gifts we have been given.

The call story of Samuel gives us a rich understanding of how call comes, and the reminder that our God is persistent with it. Even if it takes three or more times to get the message across, God calls. Samuel also reminds us that God’s call extends to everyone. As Professor Richard Boyce notes:

It takes both the attentiveness of the young Samuel’s ears and the wisdom of the old priest’s heart and mind to birth this new office in the service of the Lord[v].

Answering God’s call is the work of community, old and young together, to bring about the revolution God has in store. For the people of God in 1 Samuel, God is ushering in a new age, a new way of being in the world, a new way of leading God’s people. And it all starts with the courage a young boy and an old priest have to wake up, and pay attention. May it be so with us. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
January 14, 2018
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[i] Lawrence Wood, “Homiletical Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution,” sermon delivered at the National Cathedral on March 31, 1968. https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/publications/knock-midnight-inspiration-great-sermons-reverend-martin-luther-king-jr-10, accessed 1/13/18.
[iii] Joseph L. Price, “Theological Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iv] Psalm 139:5, The Message
[v] Richard Boyce, “Exegetical Perspective: 1 Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20),” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon – Transformed – Romans 12:1-8

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“80 percent of life is just showing up.” This well-known quote, often attributed to actor and director Woody Allen, indicates the importance of presence in life. And it makes sense, after all, you can’t get ahead if you aren’t there to receive it. In times of crisis, a friend’s simple presence is often worth the most. A child or teenager in a school production or sporting event will scan the crowd for a familiar face to cheer them on. Showing up matters.

“Present your bodies as a living and holy sacrifice” Paul writes. It’s the ancient version of this quote, reminding believers of the importance of showing up for God. Here in Romans, Paul lays out that how we engage our physical selves is a reflection of our faith. He puts it in terms that believers in Rome would understand, referencing practices of sacrifice. But, instead of a specific animal brought to the temple, Paul calls it a “living sacrifice,” a phrase that plays on what is known with something new. For Paul, our presence is not some sacrifice that ends in death, but instead is a consecration or dedication to the will and work of God that is live-giving. It marks renewal and wholeness, and is even included in many of our communion prayers as a sign that we wish to be made new by God at Christ’s table. And so we present ourselves, freely and openly, trusting that when we show up, God does too.

But, as another clichéd phrase goes, “showing up is half the battle.” For Paul, there is more to embodied faith than just physical presence. It also involves an opening of the mind. This week, my yoga instructor began class as always by calling our attention to deepening our breath as we centered ourselves to begin our practice together. She indicated an essential part to yoga is the combined presence of body and mind, encouraging us to be both physically present and mentally present in the space. She explained that in doing so, we would be able to do more than if we just mimicked her poses with our own bodies. By thinking about what we were doing, we would be able to do more. She’s right, of course. It’s one thing to sit on a yoga mat or in a pew, for example, and another to make the mental effort to sit tall. Try it with a bit of mindfulness in the next few moments: elongate the spine, imagining space between the vertebrae, like a string is pulling you up from the top of the head, while your shoulder blades are being drawn down away from your ears. Can you feel the difference even with just a bit more awareness? The body and the mind are connected, and at their best work together as a team.

In order to be our most faithful selves, we need to wrap our minds around things in new ways, ways that push and challenge us to better examine ourselves, our communities, our nation and even our world. We have to do more than just show up; we have to think about it, too. It is easy to fall into the trap of just going through the motions without really engaging our minds. This is especially true when it comes to our worship. We like to be lulled and comforted. And sometimes that’s what we need – a sanctuary from all the chaos and conflict that is happening in our world, a haven from the shouting pundits and not-so-funny memes and arguments in the comment threads.  But I don’t think that’s what Paul had in mind for the early church, certainly not in Romans. If anything, the Roman church had a very persuasive argument for the need for shelter and separation from the world. They were under attack, persecuted by the Empire, forced into hiding because of very real risks. But even then, perhaps especially when the world was at odds, Paul called them to reflect on the ways of the world so that they would not conform to the evils that surrounded them, but could be transformed by the renewing of their minds – something that happened in the context to true, authentic worship within the body of Christ.

A seminary friend posted a genuine question earlier this week, asking “how important is it to you for current events to be addressed specifically in worship?” The responses varied, but all seemed to point to the fact that our time together of worship should include wrestling with the issues of the world, not as partisan or policy debates, but rather in relationship to our understanding of what it means to be part of the kingdom of God. We must hear the words of Scripture not just as ancient texts, but as the Word of God here and now to us in our context, too. We have to trust that the church, particularly in our worship, can be a place where transformation can happen; in fact, we need to come expecting it. Otherwise, we will only experience a temporary escape without any real toolset for what we encounter outside of these walls, and are likely to fall into patterns of old ways and old thinking, conforming to the world as we blend in. Paul insists that God is calling us forward, into a new transformed way of being in which:

We must be ready to challenge those parts where the present age shouts, or perhaps whispers seductively, that it would be easier and better to do things that way, while the age to come, already begun in Jesus, insists that belonging to the new creation means that we must live this way instead[i].

We have to be a people who embody, body and mind, what it means to live with Jesus Christ as our Lord, not anyone or anything else. Worship can be a place where we find a balance point of human initiative and divine intervention as we grapple with the concerns of our day and seek to understand what the will of God is in the midst of it. When we are transformed, we are able to be a true witness to the work of Jesus Christ.

The beginning point of that witness starts with us. It starts with our honest and humble admission that we are prone to conforming to the world’s standards for life and that through our conforming, through our inaction, and through our silence, we have been complicit in the escalation of discord and disharmony within our society. This is a part of the renewing of minds that has to take place within us to live into our identity as the transformed body of Christ. As I have reflected on the role of racism in my own life over these past few weeks, I discovered a scale which was developed in July by psychologist Cristi Demnowicz[ii] as a way to illustrate and identify the racial bias we all experience on some level.

It resonated with me in a humbling way, reminding me that I can’t just talk about the issues of racism in our country as if I have not been a part of them. No, I have never donned a hood or openly discriminated against a person of color, but that doesn’t mean I have not been racist. As I scanned the chart, I identified with moments of awareness, in which I have noted that my experience as a white, heterosexual cis-woman has been largely privileged and different from what many who are not in these majority categories find. But as I looked at some of the other phrase descriptions, I had a lump in my throat as I realized how I have been guilty of saying, or at least thinking, things far more towards the side of racism than I would like to admit. And so, I confess, before you my brothers and sisters in Christ, that I have been and sometimes still am, racist. And I am praying for God to work through that and renew my mind and lead me more into modeling Christ’s love, just as ardently as I am praying for that to happen in the hearts and minds of those who are at every point on this spectrum. And I am extremely grateful to be able to do this hard work in the context of a faith community. Transformations, big and small, don’t happen alone.

The second part of today’s reading reminds us that God’s work isn’t just a solitary event of internal change. It is an act of community. As such, we are reminded to not get too big of a head, but instead consider what our transformed selves might offer. We have been transformed for a reason; to be a part of the body of Christ in the world. During the Civil Rights movement, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had this to say about our work:

Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men [sic] willing to be coworkers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right[iii].

Paul invites us to participate in that through the genuine giving of ourselves as a living sacrifice before God, opening ourselves in body and mind to the work God might do in us, with us, and through us. Our passage begins with Paul begging his listeners to action, using the words “I appeal to you.” The word in Greek, parakalo, is closely related to the word John’s gospel uses to describe the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete. This is not just some command. The language exudes invitation. Paul is encouraging his readers, and us, to respond to our faith by offering ourselves to be transformed by God and engaged in the work of God’s kingdom. Romans 12 is a call to action for the church in the present age. It starts by showing up. It continues by trying to wrap our minds around the issues of our world and the holiness of God’s will for us in it. It leads us into being the body of Christ. And it places us in the position to renew our commitments as followers of Jesus Christ.

Our church history is rich with such moments. In the 1980s, the Dutch Reformed Mission Church in South Africa put together a formal statement of faith, something we call a confession, that began with a letter which said, in part:

We are deeply conscious that moments of such seriousness can arise in the life of the Church that it may feel the need to confess its faith anew in light of a specific situation.  We are aware that such an act of confession is not lightly undertaken, but ONLY (to be undertaken) if it is considered that the heart of the gospel is so threatened by it to be at stake.  In our judgment, the present situation in our country…..calls for such a decision.  Accordingly, we make this confession not as a contribution to a theological debate, nor as a new summary of our beliefs, but as a cry from the heart, as something we are obliged to do for the sake of the gospel in view of the times in which we stand…….Therefore, we speak pleadingly rather than accusingly.  We plead for reconciliation, and call for a process of soul searching together, a joint wrestling with the issues, and a readiness to repent in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ[iv].”

These words introduced Belhar Confession, written in response to the horrors of Apartheid that also presents ringing truths for us today. When sin threatens to corrupt the fabric of our society; when evil creates division among God’s children, constructs systems, and condones hostile actions and attitudes which demean and degrade the worth of any person or group and incites violence and destruction, the Christian community must respond by reclaiming what it is that we believe and who we are as followers of Jesus Christ. It can only happen if we are presenting ourselves to be transformed by God and working to find our place in God’s community.

I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, to take part in this joyous thing God is offering. Hear Paul’s words in verses 1 and 2 as an encouragement and a charge to you in these moments, made fresh to our modern ears by Eugene Peterson’s adaptation in The Message:

So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you[v].

May we be transformed in this way. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

August 27, 2017

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[i] N.T. Wright

[ii] http://racismscale.weebly.com/

[iii] Martin Luther King, Jr., Why We Can’t Wait (New York: Signet Classics, 2000), as quoted by Kirk Byron Jones in his essay “Homiletical Perspective: Romans 12:1-8,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

[iv] The Belhar Confession, https://www.presbyterianmission.org/resource/belhar-confession/

[v] Eugene Peterson,“Romans 12:1-2,” The Message

Sunday’s Sermon – Get Out of the Boat – Matthew 14:22-33

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Seven years ago I took an amazing trip to Guatemala. In addition to some time spent volunteering at Cedepca, my friend Dania and I took a vacation north to the highland region of the country.

 

Part of this trip included a visit to Tikal, incredible ruins nestled in the rainforest which was the capital of a conquest state that became one of the most powerful kingdoms of the ancient Maya with architecture that dates back as far as the 4th century BCE. Similar to the pyramids in Egypt in scale, Tikal is larger than life and almost unbelievable. We soon found ourselves at one of the largest temple ruins, Temple 5, where visitors were invited to climb to the top.

Dania quickly dismissed the idea, but I jumped at what I imagined might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She agreed to wait and held my bag as I made my way to the base. Because the steps were very narrow and worn, the only way up and down was a wooden staircase that was more like a ladder, affixed to the crumbling ruins.

I began to climb. The structure began to shake. I looked up, following many tourists who were ahead of me. My grip tightened. The ladder creaked. About halfway up, the movement on the stairs slowed and my stomach got pretty heavy. Then I made a critical mistake – I looked down. I have a relatively healthy fear of heights, and in just a few moments convinced myself that this was the most foolishly dangerous thing I could have ever possibly done, and surely I was moments away from slipping and falling without anything to stop me but the people and stones below. I became almost paralyzed with fear. But I was also in the middle of a ladder with nowhere to go but up.

So I held on for dear life, praying I could figure something out. Then, I noticed something ahead of me at the top of the stairs. An older gentleman was being encouraged by his family to complete his climb. With their help, he reached the top, and then, pressed tightly against the wall of the ruins, began to encourage me. He helped me take the last few steps, and then find a spot next to him where I wouldn’t fall off the ledge and could take in the view. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In moments, he had become my best friend. He shared how important it was to him to follow his grandchildren up and take in this sight. He was 70 years old, but this was his first visit to Tikal. We marveled at the view, and at the people down below. We discussed how we could avoid having to go back down those wooden stairs. The storm inside me calmed. And eventually, with his encouragement again, I was able to return safely to the ground. We celebrated together.

   

 

Moments that take us outside of our comfort zone have the potential to be exhilarating moments that are exclamation points on the adventures of our lives. Our gospel reading today is not exception, featuring an overeager, passionate disciple who makes a pretty dramatic leap.

Peter is perhaps the most enthusiastic disciple. When Jesus asks for something to happen, it is Peter who has his hand up first to volunteer. He may not get it right all of the time, ok, a lot of the time, but his effort is inspiring. He is what we might describe as being “on fire” for the Lord, and he wants to be a part of everything that Jesus is doing right away. You know how dogs get all excited when their owner comes home, racing towards them with tails wagging? That’s Peter when he sees Jesus coming on the water.

To be sure, Peter’s decision to jump overboard was pretty foolish, particularly in the midst of a storm. It’s the very definition of “throwing caution to the wind.”  As Pastor Andrew Foster Connors notes:

You do not step out of a boat in the middle of a storm. You batten down the hatches, put on your life jacket, hunker down in the belly of the boat, and pray that the waves do not get any bigger and the winds to not get any stronger. . . . The safest way to avoid getting hurt seems to be to stay in the boat: 92 percent of the disciples do exactly that in this story[i].

Most of us would stay in the boat, too.  And in this way, the boat becomes a metaphor for how we try to keep ourselves safe, comfortable, and sheltered, particularly when things are rough. Our boats are numerous, and they are literal and physical as well as spiritual. Writer and Pastor John Ortberg identifies them to us in this way, saying:

Your boat is whatever represents safety and security to you apart from God himself. Your boat is whatever you are tempted to put your trust in, especially when life gets a little stormy. Your boat is whatever keeps you so comfortable that you don’t want to give it up even if it’s keeping you from joining Jesus on the waves. Your boat is whatever pulls you away from the high adventure of extreme discipleship[ii].

Most of us would stay in the boat, but not Peter. Peter embraces the call to discipleship and hears Jesus’ invitation to come. He anticipates that something exciting is going to happen. And, like a child standing on the side of a pool wanting to jump in, he yells out to Jesus “are you ready?” asking permission to take the leap.  Jesus responds with a simple command, “Come,” urging Peter to join him. And that simple invitation is all it takes to get Peter walking on water.

What would it take for you to walk on water with the Lord? That is one of the questions John Ortberg asks in his popular book. In it, he offers that God often calls us to get out of the boat in a variety of ways, and he identifies four indicators that can help us identify God’s call and motivate us, too, to get out of the boat.

First, he identifies the indicator of fear. Those things that cause us the most anxiety and nervousness, he argues, might be the places God is most calling us to grow. Second, he suggests an indicator of frustration in our lives that comes with the gap between the fallen reality and our sense of God’s desires. These are the moments where we might be prompted to action as we try to reconcile the world as it is with the world as we believe God intends. Third, there is the indicator of compassion, those things that tug at our heart strings and compel us to respond with demonstrations of love and care for one another, both strangers and friends. Finally, he speaks of the indicator of prayer, recognizing that we may not always see the path clearly, but that through prayer we might uncover deeper understanding. He suggests a minimum of a six month daily commitment to prayer as a way to invite reflection and discernment. All of these indicators work both individually and together to help us get a sense that there is some presence, the one we know to be Jesus himself, who desires that we get out of the boats we have constructed for ourselves and instead try to walk on water.

Yesterday, in Charlottesville, Virginia, thousands of people were motivated to get out of their boats of comfort and speak out in the face of hate and injustice. Among them were hundreds of clergy and other Christians who joined together to bring message of hope and light to the darkness on display by those who were gathering in outrageous displays of the sin of racism and white supremacy. As I watched the news unfold, I was numb. I heard stories and saw countless pictures and videos, some of which were from seminary classmates and colleagues who were sharing them firsthand, and my heart became heavy. It was a day full of sobering moments. I firmly believe they were doing the work of witness, the kind of get out of the boat discipleship work that Jesus calls us to do. And at the same time, I found myself glad to be so many miles away, distanced from the reality of it being a decision I would make myself. I would like to think that if this had happened here in Acworth, or Marietta, or Atlanta, that I would have gotten out of the boat and been there, too. But just the thought of it engulfs me with a sense of fear that might have kept me silenced and on the sidelines. But then I read Peter’s story again, and hear Jesus calling us out of the boat, even in the midst of a storm. Brothers and sisters in Christ, the storm of racism in our country is real, and it is not just isolated to Charlottesville, Virginia.  We must be attentive to the calls placed on us to get out of our boats and dispel hate with that love of Jesus that does not discriminate or favor. Overcoming fear, naming frustrations with broken systems, speaking with compassion, and praying can motivate us into active work in Jesus’ name. We must look outside the boat and see where Jesus is calling us to go. There is work for each of us to do.

Stories like this put us on the edge, and prompt us to action. Getting out of the boat means taking a risk, trusting in something bigger than we can see, in a radical act of discipleship. But doing so can be terrifying, as illustrated on the silver screen almost twenty years ago by Harrison Ford in the classic Indiana Jones trilogy. Consider this, the final of 3 tests as Indy seeks the Holy Grail as he tries to save his father’s life:

Getting out of the boat is a leap of faith. Fortunately, we aren’t just stepping off into thin air, nor are we being completely thrown in the deep end without help. Jesus is there, calling to us and encouraging us to step out. And if we get scared and start to sink, Jesus is there to hold us up so that the waters will not overwhelm us. After all, he is the one who has come to us saying, “don’t be afraid,” for the great I AM, the one who spoke over the waters of creation, through the burning bush, in the words of the prophets, has also come to us in the flesh, and over and over again demonstrates the power over the chaos that threatens to consume us. Jesus doesn’t just appear when the waters have been calmed; Jesus has the power to walk with us over the stormy waters, and gives us the abilities to do things beyond anything we could ever imagine. And all of this is possible with just a little bit of faith. The little faith that is the size of a mustard seed and can still move mountains (see Matthew 17:20). The little faith that gets Peter, and us, out of the boat. Looking to Jesus, may we be willing to take a step overboard. Amen.

~Rev Elizabeth Lovell Milford

August 13, 2017

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[i] Andrew Foster Connors, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 14:22-36,” Feasting on the Gospels, Matthew, Volume 2, Chapters 14-28, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

[ii] John Ortberg, If You Want to Walk on Water You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat, (Zondervan, 2001).

Sunday’s Sermon – What’s In Your Lunchbox? Matthew 14:13-21

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It is that time of year again. Both Cherokee and Cobb counties are back in school. All this week I saw wonderful pictures of first days, from sweet little kindergarteners starting their journey to bittersweet posts about a senior in high school’s last first day. And among these pictures was one from a friend who said she had almost missed packing her children’s lunches this summer; complete with the picture you see on the bulletin cover this morning. So I asked for a few more examples, and some proud parents shared these, complete with encouraging notes. (I should also note that several indicated they should just send me a shot of some lunch money in hand). Somewhat surprising to me, not much has changed, with school lunches since I was packing them just a few years ago. There are some standards that have stood the test of time. As I shared with the children a few moments ago, Little Debbie snacks were always a highlight for me, along with Capri Suns and other special treats. For class field trips I often got to have a Lunchable, a prized selection to be sure. Now, I was fortunate to grow up in a home where lunch was always available, but the best ones were the ones my dad packed. I’m not sure if he realized he was packing for a child, or just wanted me to have lots of options, but whenever he packed my lunch, it was full, almost double what I really needed. I always had a snack for the way home, and usually a few things that could be saved for the next day on top of that.

Perhaps that’s the kind of lunch that was unpacked on the hillside that day long ago when the crowds followed Jesus. That’s the end image, after all; baskets overflowing with leftovers, twelve baskets of them, after more than 5,000 people were fed (the 5,000 just accounted for the men, so you might imagine how quickly that number climbs when you add in women and children who surely would have been present, too). But that image doesn’t match the presenting problem at the beginning of our story, as the disciples come to Jesus and remind him that they are in the middle of nowhere and the people are getting hungry. There isn’t a McDonald’s on every corner, or even food trucks popping up for the large gathering. And, from the context here, it appears that no one had really thought about provisions for themselves when they began to listen to the great teacher. And hunger doesn’t seem to dissuade the crowd. This is significant, as one commentator suggests:

Perhaps there is some hunger of the soul that causes people to continue to pursue Jesus even after their stomachs start growling[i].

Such a situation reminds us that there truly is something compelling about what Jesus is offering to the crowds. It also sets the stage for a miracle to happen.

This is among only a handful of stories that is captured by all four gospels, and aside from the Resurrection, is the only miracle, which tells us it must have been of some importance to the early church. Some even suggest that this story was told as a regular part of the church’s gathering to celebrate communion together. Many of us are most familiar with the version in John’s gospel, which features a little boy bringing his little lunch forward to share. But here in Matthew’s account, we find some different distinguishing features that highlight a different aspect of the story, namely, what it means to be a disciple.

The disciples go to Jesus to fix the problem, and his response is not immediately to just make food appear (which clearly God has the power to do, as evidenced by countless stories in Scripture, with God giving manna in the wilderness as a prime example). Instead, he simply instructs the disciples to give the crowd something to eat. Apparently one answer to “What Would Jesus Do?” is tell the disciples to do it. Jesus doesn’t just function like some sort of holy vending machine. Instead, he gives the disciples agency and calls upon them to use their skills and abilities to be a part of the solution. They have come up with the five loaves and two fish, and it doesn’t take a mathematician to see that those numbers aren’t going to add up. The need was too great, and the resources were too few. I’m sure the disciples thought it was a hopeless cause. What they had wasn’t enough.

Even as Jesus’ disciple, it’s easy to feel like what we bring to the table isn’t enough. Sometimes it’s the result of humility, but often we express very real feelings of inadequacy, particularly when it comes to doing things that involve our faith. We are afraid of saying yes to teaching Sunday School, even to children, because we “don’t know enough about the Bible,” despite reading it and coming to church for years. We shy away from singing in the choir because we don’t think our voice is as good as everyone else’s. We hesitate to volunteer to help with the mobile food pantry because we don’t think we’re strong enough to do anything. And, of course, it’s true with things outside of the church. We don’t speak up often enough when we witness injustice because we don’t think we’re eloquent enough to say anything worthwhile. We stay sitting or pressed against the wall at a wedding reception because we are convinced that we have two left feet and our dance moves would embarrass us. We avoid pictures because we don’t think we look good enough in the moments we want to remember; or we apply filter after filter to cover up our distorted sense of reality. We stay silent in the midst of a friend’s grief or crisis because we think there’s nothing we can do to help. You get the idea. Like the disciples, we look down at what we have and determine that it’s not enough.

Unless. Unless Jesus, the Messiah, God incarnate, could take what we have, even if it’s a meager amount, and do something more with it. What if this story is about more than just a little lunch? What if it’s about all of those things, those inadequacies and small portions, and how God can transform them into something amazing? Jesus’ first miracle in the story was to encourage the disciples to get away from their small thinking and instead consider that what they had could be more than enough. With a blessing from Christ, even what was small could be multiplied. Jesus was inviting the disciples to be a part of the miracle. Likewise, God is entrusting us to be a part of the miracles God is doing each and every day.

Answering this call means looking at what we have in our own proverbial lunchboxes, and considering what it is that we might be able to share with the world. Yes, on one level I think this is absolutely about food. The biblical narrative and gospel witness are full of calls to feed the hungry, and we know all to well that there are countless lunchboxes in our world, even in our own community, that are left far too empty. Later in the service you’ll hear more about some of the ways we as a congregation are working within our community to change that circumstance for many children. So the giving of our tangible and physical resources does matter. When we have leftovers in our lunchboxes, we are called to share them.  If you can, add in just a few items to your grocery cart each week to donate to our food pantry; anything helps, and some of our most needed items each month are listed on the back of the bulletin. If you’re picking up school supplies, or just walking by the display the next time you’re at Target, maybe get a few extra things for a local school, too. In doing this, you are taking the blessings you have been given by God, and allowing God to multiply them and bless others. And that’s a pretty big part of being a disciple.

But the sharing doesn’t just have to be about the things we can hold in our hands. God has given us countless gifts that aren’t tactile, but need to be shared. Consider the gifts and abilities that you have. Maybe you’re really organized and good with numbers, or you love to paint or draw. Perhaps you’re particularly handy and love working with your hands, or you have the ability to quickly get to know people and develop relationships. Maybe you find it easy to talk about your faith and pray with others, or you have a knack for writing and communicating in creative ways. Whatever it is, find ways to share them, in this community and beyond. Don’t just leave the work to others that might be “more” qualified than you. Trust them to Jesus in a spirit of prayer, and see if just maybe he might be calling YOU to use them to be a part of what God is doing in the world, reaching out to others in compassion and love. Don’t leave those gifts in your lunchbox.

Do you know what happens if you leave something in the lunchbox too long? Especially in this Georgia end of summer heat? It spoils. It smells. It becomes unrecognizable and likely inedible. It ends up wasted in the trash. The same is true of the gifts we have if we just tuck them away in a box, never to see the light of day. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have baskets of leftovers than a lunchbox of spoiled remains.

Friends, God has packed our lunchboxes full. We have more gifts and skills and abilities than we realize. Even if all we can look down and see is two fish and five little loaves of bread. God sees something bigger, and God can do big things even with the smallest gifts. As disciples, we continue to go to Jesus with the problems of our lives and our world, and Jesus responds time and time again not just by waving some magic wand and fixing things, but by engaging us and working through us to make incredible things possible; things like an entire hillside full of people fed. Our job is to open our lunchboxes and share what’s inside: with God, with each other, and with the world. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
August 6, 2017

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[i] Dock Hollingsworth, “Homiletical Perspective: Matthew 14:13-21,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
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Benediction: from Saint Teresa of Avila:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

Sunday’s Sermon – Changing Directions – Numbers 22:22-35; Acts 9:1-20

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In order to get from point A to point B, chances are you are going to need some directions. In some cases, particularly small towns, they come verbally with landmarks. In a country song, an attractive stranger who is lost gets the following instructions from a local:

I told her way up yonder past the caution light
There’s a little country store with an old Coke sign
You gotta stop in and ask Miss Bell for some of her sweet tea
Then a left will take you to the interstate
But a right will bring you right back here to me[i].

Sometimes these directions even refer to what things used to be, marking a moment in time. Then, of course, there are paper maps, which are less common now, but still helpful along the way.  I remember buying a detailed booklet of maps for the city of Philadelphia after beginning to serve at my first church following seminary. It wasn’t long after that I purchased a TomTom GPS, which was a lifesaver as a I navigated the area. Now, of course, there are countless ways to know how to get from here to there in your smart phone, from GoogleMaps to Waze. And although the delivery format has changed, the reality of needing some instruction has not.

The thing they don’t tell you about following directions is that it still requires you to employ some sense of reason and pay attention to what is happening around you. Otherwise, you might end up doing something like this:

[Clip from “Dunder Mifflin Infinity,” episode of The Office, aired October 4, 2007[ii]]

Directions. Some of us follow them better than others. And sometimes we get so focused and fixated on a particular path that we cannot adjust when we need to. This is the reality for both of our texts this morning, which lay out pretty dramatic stories of being turned around and then put back on the right track in ways that would rattle most of us to the very core. Paul, referenced here as Saul, was a known persecutor of early believers, notorious for his zeal and strong arm. When we meet him in the book of Acts, he is actively hunting out Christians, outing them in order to arrest them and bring them to Jerusalem for trial; an ordeal that would almost certainly lead to a similar fate of the one they worshiped – death. He has a one track mind on his way to Damascus when he is met by a blinding light that reveals he is heading in the wrong direction entirely. The sign is so stunning that Saul is blinded and cannot recover until he puts himself in the hands of one who would have been his sworn enemy – Ananias. A complete reversal is what it takes to open his eyes, in all senses of the word.

The prophet Balaam is lesser known, but one of the hidden gem stories in the Hebrew Scriptures. Tucked into the book of Numbers, Balaam is what you might describe as a “prophet for hire.” While he only spoke the words God instructed him, the context of our story indicates that there were often multiple agendas at play. King Balak of Moab wanted to weaken the people of Israel, who had infringed on his territory as they made their way to Canaan, so he contacts Balaam to curse Israel in exchange for a reward. Balaam agrees, provided that he could get God to go along with such a scheme. You see where this is going awry? There’s some back and forth, and Balaam then sets out on a path that doesn’t seem to be what God intends, so much so that the path is blocked by an angel. Of course, Balaam is so fixated on his own mission that he doesn’t see it; he only notices that his donkey has stalled on the road, which sparks pure rage on his part. It takes a talking donkey for Balaam to realize something else is going on and that maybe he should alter his course.

Blinding light and talking donkeys. It makes you wonder if God only acts in larger than life ways to give us directions. With such examples like this, we can quickly become disheartened or even dismayed at God’s seemingly lacking intervention into our own lost places in life. The stories of such gigantic proportions in our world happen, but they are fewer and father between. More often, these moments are more subtle and come at a slower pace. But these bigger than life stories, much like that of Jonah a few weeks ago, can give us the opportunity to examine our own lives and, on a small scale, consider the ways that perhaps we have been unable or unwilling to see where God is calling us. The good news is, God doesn’t stop trying to give us directions to help us see.

In the case of Paul, we might note that the drama on the road to Damascus seems to match the tone of the rest of the story. Paul was extreme in every sense of the word. One commentator notes that:

The very nature of his conversion is a reflection of his state of mind and heart in the period leading up to his changed life, and it perhaps demonstrates as remarkably as any other biblical text that God employs means of reaching an individual that are commensurate with that individual’s needs. . . . [The text demonstrates that] God would deal with each of us according to who we are[iii].

Some of us need bigger signs in order to understand.

In the case of Paul and Balaam, God is dealing us a common trait that might be what prompts such radical intervention: stubbornness. Both men are so fixated and focused on the direction they are going that they can’t see anything else around them. They are bulldozing their way through life, not paying attention to any of the signs that might shift or alter their direction. We humans tend to be that way. In the past 40 or more years, psychologists have been studying the ways we interact and what causes us to hold particularly strong sets of beliefs[iv]. Earlier this year, researchers Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber published a book titled, The Enigma of Reason, in which they explore why we think the way we do. The book argues that reason:

is not geared to solitary use, to arriving at better beliefs and decisions on our own. What reason does, rather, is help us justify our beliefs and actions to others, convince them through argumentation, and evaluate the justifications and arguments that others address to us. In other words, reason helps humans better exploit their uniquely rich social environment[v].

Put even simpler, we only see what we want to see, and sometimes that makes us short sighted. You know the expression, can’t see the forest for the trees? Such a limited viewpoint can lead us barreling in one direction, even if that means we’re heading toward disaster. And the more we get pushed, the more likely we are to stick to our guns and dig into our beliefs; nothing can move us. Except maybe a blinding light or talking donkey.

While we might not be quite as stubborn as the leads of these dramatic biblical stories, we can get pretty bull-headed sometimes and refuse to acknowledge or think about anything that deviates from what we have set out to do. When this happens to us in our faith lives, we run the risk of fundamentalism, pushing ourselves into fixed views of God and the world that leave no space for the Holy Spirit to move and shift. Our faith becomes static, not dynamic, and we get stuck.

The journey of faith is not as simple as just following a clear list of directions tucked neatly into your Bible. We can’t barrel our way through it, or put ourselves on auto-pilot. That’s how we end up in the lake. Rather, faith should be an interactive journey that we undergo with God by our side. This is the intersection of divine providence and our own free will. Our lives at their best are the fulcrum on which this sits, as we listen and try to figure out what God would have us do, God’s will, and hold that against our own desires and inclinations. It’s meant to be a conversation. Have you ever talked to your GPS, or argued with your navigator, or even the map itself? I am guilty of doing this. And sometimes, ok, a lot of the time, I decide that I know better than the navigational system and go my own way. When I had a TomTom, the response was the same every time, “recalculating . . . recalculating.” If I missed a turn, “recalculating”; when I took matters into my own hands, “recalculating.” The system adjusted to my own decisions, good or bad, and helped reroute me from that point. That’s the way God works, I think. God gives us the ability to make our own decisions, but desperately hopes to be sitting next to use and helping us with the navigation. And God is always recalculating and trying to show us the way to go. Sometimes, as in the case of Balaam and Paul, that navigation is to take a u-turn at the next available opportunity.

There can be good things that come from such a shift in course. Take Paul, for example, who God called to become one of the most influential leaders in the early church, whose writings still inspire and connect us to God today. As Paul Walaskay notes:

Rather than a negative “turn your back on the past,” Paul received a positive “turn your face toward the future.”

We, like Paul, are not called to turn our back on the past. Rather, we are to look fully at all aspects of our personal histories, to repent of (or change our minds about) the things we do that run counter to the inevitability of God’s grace, and to turn our faces toward God’s future[vi].

That’s the kind of direction God wants in the end; for us to be heading in the direction of God’s future. In this way, our lives become marked by the one with whom we are next to on the journey – God.  Our journey together through these scriptures for the summer has come to a close, but our journeys of faith are far from over. As we continue to navigate the way, may we let God be by our side, and may we be open to the fact that, along the way, we may just be called to change directions. In doing so, we might just be more faithful, and turn our faces more toward the future God intends. Don’t be afraid of some recalculating. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

July 23, 2017

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[i] Billy Currington, “Good Directions,” Written by Luke Bryan, Rachel Thibodeau • Copyright © BMG Rights Management US, LLC, Dan Hodges Music, LLC

[ii] https://vimeo.com/15390422, Clip from “Dunder Mifflin Infinity,” episode of The Office, aired October 4, 2007

[iii] Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary based on the NRSV – Year C, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, J. Clinton McCain, James D. Newsome, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994).

[iv] For an interesting summary of this topic, check out “Why Facts Don’t Change Our Minds,” by Elizabeth Kolbert, published in The New Yorker on February 27, 2017. Available online at http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/02/27/why-facts-dont-change-our-minds, accessed 7/22/2017.

[v] Harvard University Press description of The Enigma of Reason by Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber, (Cambridge, MA: HUP, 2017), http://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674368309, accessed 7/22/17.

[vi] Paul W. Walaskay, Acts: Westminster Bible Companion, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998)

Food Pantry

Food distribution is scheduled the 1st Saturday of the month at 10:00 am and the 3rd Wednesday of the month at 12:30 pm.

The next Drive-Up Food Pantry is scheduled for Wednesday, May 21 at 12:30 pm.  Accurate pre-registration is strongly encouraged to ensure volunteers pack accordingly.
Please sign- up here!

For other pantry locations, go here
or text “FINDFOOD” to 888-976-2232

Church News

Volunteers are needed to help pack family boxes Monday, May 19th at 10 am in the Fellowship Hall. We welcome all volunteers.  

Food Pantry distribution volunteer opportunity Wednesday, May 21 registration here!

Worship Live Streaming and archives can be found by clicking the appropriate link under the worship tab.

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Upcoming Events

Worship

Sunday Schedule

9:00 AM
Responding in Faith Sunday School Class
     via Zoom with Barbara Jessee

9:15 AM
Bible University Sunday School Class
    with Dr. Tom Scott
Hybrid format (in-person & via Zoom)

Connections Sunday School Class
with Mark Bixler
Hybrid format (in-person & via Zoom)

Youth Bible Study (Room 8) 6- 12th grade

Kids Club – (Room 7)
Biblically-based Faith Formation Activities for Preschool – 5th Grade
Praise Kids Music on the 3rd Sunday of the month.

10:30 AM
In-Person Worship and Livestreamed via   YouTube.

Youth Group – the first and third Sunday of the month from 5-7 pm during the school year.