faith

Sunday’s Sermon – Looking to Jesus – Hebrews 11:29-2:2

August 18, 2019 Leave a Comment

It started in middle school. About this time every year, just after the school year began, so did our soccer season. But there were a few weeks before coaches could technically lead practices, so in my school, the middle and high school teams combined and were led in “training and conditioning” afternoons. After school we would gather outside of the locker room and the senior team captains would announce the plans for the day. Almost always we began with a long run through the school’s neighborhood. It was southern Alabama. In August. Hot. Humid. You get the idea. Miserable. And few of us had done much running over the summer, so it was pretty brutal. As some of you know, I’m not a runner. I’ve heard of this so-called “runner’s euphoria” that people exhibit after running a few miles and getting into “the zone,” but it has not been my experience. Instead, sheer survival has been my approach. I survived those soccer conditioning days with grit and clinging to the idea of focusing on what was ahead. Quite literally. An older player taught me that, instead of looking down the loooong stretch of road we had to cover (and then come back), to just look a few feet in front of me at a time. Then, to look at the light poles, and focus on running just to the next pole. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, one light pole to the next. That’s what it takes to finish the race set before you; knowing where to look.

I wonder if the writer of Hebrews would give similar advice. This general epistle is written to an early group of believers who are, well, struggling with the process of getting in shape to follow a new faith system. They need a pep talk. As John Shelley describes it:

The writer of Hebrews has introduced the idea of faith as the courage to endure, in an effort to stiffen the spines of the little band of Christians struggling with hostility, ridicule, and shame[i].

Throughout chapter 11, he gives a long litany of heroes and heroines from the Hebrew Scriptures. This is a famous listing of names, from Abraham and Moses to the names we read this morning. It’s like a “who’s who” of the earliest parts of Scripture, no doubt names and stories familiar to this letter’s readers. It is a Cliff’s notes version, summarizing thousands of years of history into a few phrases each time, as if to jog the memory of those who know the fuller story. Together, they make up this amazing cloud of witnesses.

You know that long road I mentioned? It had a dead end. That meant that we ran to its end, then reversed the path to get back to our school campus. If you were in the back of the group, you would see others coming your direction, meaning that turn was near. But more encouraging than this, was the regular practice of high-fives from those leading the way, and the shouts of encouragement that we could pick up the pace. That’s the kind of work that the cloud of witnesses do for us in faith; this listing is one high five after another from those who have walked the road of life before us in faith, giving us confidence to do the same.

To those new to the faith, the writer points out “hey, look! Here’s a whole host of people who have come before you, who have had tremendous obstacles and challenges, too, and by faith, have made it through. If they can do it, so can you!”

What has helped God’s people deal with discouragement since the beginning is the knowledge that we are not alone. We follow in the footsteps of people from the earliest biblical times who were unsure of what the future held for them. We follow in the footsteps of saints who along the way chose to trust God anyway. We follow at God who does not abandon us in times of trouble[ii].

The penultimate example of this of course? Jesus Christ. He is the “pioneer and perfecter” of our faith, running the race before us, blazing the trail, and setting the pace and cadence. He is the experienced runner who jogs along beside us, effortlessly, with words of encouragement. He is the one who reminds us of the fundamentals: to breathe in through our nose and not our mouth, and what part of the foot to put on the ground first. And if we get distracted, or aren’t quite sure where the course lies, he provides direction and guidance, keeping our eyes focused on what is ahead – not too far, not too near. And, at the risk of ruining this metaphor, he’s probably also the water station and medic, ready with supplies in case of an emergency or injury or to scoop us up if the race becomes too much for us, and who stands cheering at the finish line saying “see! I know you could do it!” The idea of Jesus as the most elite athlete of faith and coach is not hard to wrap our minds around, and provides the kind of pep talk that we may need to keep going.

This morning at our 11:00 service we will/have baptize a wonderfully sweet child of God, Jackson. In this sacrament, we celebrate that Christ has won the race and is victorious over everything, even death. We affirm that we belong on God’s team, and that nothing can separate us from God’s love because of the one who claims us in these waters. We welcome those who are baptized into the family of God, and promise to be the cloud of witnesses for them. By faith, we affirm they belong to God. By faith, we promise to walk alongside them as parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, and the church universal, encouraging them to keep going in their journey of faith. We do all of this because, by faith, we believe in the power and example set in Jesus Christ, and look to him above everything else. Jesus Christ is that light pole to look toward, marking our lives step by step, moment by moment, with God’s grace. Baptism puts us on the starting blocks of our lives of faith, trusting Jesus to carry us from there.

What I love about the writer of Hebrew’s metaphor of the race in relation to faith in Christ is that it encompasses the fullness of the ups and downs of life. The writer reminds us that Jesus’ road was far from easy with the inclusion of the shame of the cross that he endured. But rather than dwell on the violence and the horrors of it, we are pointed to Jesus’ approach as one of focusing on the joy at the end. It seems that finding a focal point ahead is the key to enduring challenges along the way. Mary Foskett writes:

Life is difficult and the Christian life is no exception. In fact, discipleship will likely entail new challenges and unanticipated costs. The key for the author of the letter to the Hebrews is that faith discerns where real life is to be found, knows which values are true and which are counterfeit, and endures hardship in the face of divine promise[iii].

Our text for today focuses our lives again on being faithful to a God who is faithful to us. With Christ as our focal point, we are able to put one foot in front of the other and continue on the race, even if we are moving slower than a turtle through peanut butter. Everything comes into perspective.

Faith allows [us] to see beyond what is right in front of [us], [our]daily problems, to see what God is doing in [our] midst, to see what God has done throughout the ages, and to see the future joy God has in store for us[iv].

There’s an old spiritual that captures this truth. It begins “In the morning, when I rise” which leads to the ask, “give me Jesus.” But it doesn’t end there. The verses continue “and when I feel alone”; and “when I come to die.” In all of these, and presumably everything in between, the singer reflects a deep longing for the one who will bring us life. All along the way, one post at a time, we need Jesus. When things are new and fresh like a morning, and our lives seem brimming with potential and excitement for what might be, in hope we need Jesus. When things are isolating and challenging, and our cries seem to echo around us without response, in pain we need Jesus. When things come to an end and we feel all of those mixed emotions, in grief and in peace we need Jesus.

That is the heart of the Hebrews message – to look to Jesus in all times, especially when the road gets long, for it is our faith in him that will lead us forward and give us the courage to just take one. more. step. The road is laid out before us. A cloud of witnesses is cheering us on. May we have the faith to look to Christ and run in his direction. Amen.

~Sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, August 18, 2019
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[i] John C. Shelley, “Theological Perspective: Hebrews 11:29-2:2,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[ii] David E. Gray, “Pastoral Perspective: Hebrews 11:29-2:2,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[iii] https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4153
[iv] David E. Gray, “Pastoral Perspective: Hebrews 11:29-2:2,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

Sunday’s Sermon – Sent – Luke 10:1-11

July 14, 2019 Leave a Comment

This July, our summer sermon series pairs Scripture texts with well-known and loved books by Dr. Seuss as modern parables to deepen our exploration of faith in the world together. This week our Dr. Seuss classic is Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

“Congratulations! Today is your day!” our book this week begins. It could also be a modernization of Jesus’ instructions to his disciples. While often we think about Jesus sending the disciples out into the world with the Great Commission in Matthew 28 which called us into worship this morning, our text from the gospel of Luke reveals another sending of the disciples that is equally compelling. On his way toward Jerusalem, Jesus sends out disciples to spread the good news to all the world. And did you catch the number? It’s more than “the 12” we tend to cite. It’s 70, and that number is significant. It mirrors the number presented in the list of all nations in Genesis 10 alongside the story of the tower of Babel. Thus, we are meant to understand it to be complete. It is a monumental moment in the gospel, furthering Luke’s insistence on sharing stories that reveal God’s desire for the gospel to truly be for all peoples and all nations, a theme that continues well into the book of Acts. One step further, this is a story about what it means to be in community together. The disciples are even sent out two-by-two. Mitties McDonald DeChamplain offers that:

Jesus is clearly affirming that proclaiming the good news of the kingdom is not a solo performance, but a communal and relational activity – a concert of the whole body of those commissioned. The message is ever inclusive and expansive[i].

But, before the disciples can race on their way, Jesus has some words of wisdom for what they might expect. He lays out the possibilities for them for the road ahead. You know the countless locker room scenes shown in tv, the movies, or even real-life sporting event coverage? The coach tends to have an uplifting, inspiring speech. The players are captivated and focused, and everyone leaves cheering because of how pumped up they are? Yeah – this isn’t quite that pep talk. You see, Jesus lays out for them not just the exciting and wonderful good news that is the message they will deliver; he also tells them to brace for things that are difficult. They’ll have to figure out their way without carrying much of anything with them. But more disturbing, they may face total rejection. Here in 11 verses, Jesus describes what life looks like as a disciple, and it’s full of ups and downs.

Dr. Seuss’s last book, published in 1990, was Oh! The Places You’ll Go!. It quickly became a best-seller and reached #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list. It still remains near the top of those lists, especially in the springtime, when there is a bump as it’s purchased for its words of wisdom to new graduates. Ready for the roller coaster? The book begins with that uplifting notion, quite literally with a hot air balloon soaring. But then bang-ups and hang-ups happen. You can be left in the Lurch. Confusion sets in on which way to go. You get stalled out in the tediousness of waiting. Until you don’t, and then you’re barreling ahead to fame and fortune. Or the bottom can fall out and leave you lonely, or scared. Surrounded by fears that threaten to overwhelm. And you get mixed up with all sorts of strange birds. But you can, and will, do amazing and marvelous things in the end. Whew! It’s a whirlwind of experiences, all wrapped up neatly in rhyme. But, isn’t it also a depiction of the realities of the journeys of life?

That same kind of comprehensive description of the way things might be is what Jesus gives to the disciples in Luke’s gospel. I love that Jesus paints such a realistic picture of life. He doesn’t look at the crowds that have been following them and promise them something that is perfect. He doesn’t promise riches or good health or any form of guaranteed benefit for doing this work. Being a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a guarantee of “the good life” here and now. In fact, sometimes it’s quite the opposite. DeChamplain continues saying:

The reality that many things can devour and diminish the commitment of Jesus’ disciples, and the likelihood of rejection on the journey is strong. Those commissioned, however, are not to be people pleasers but God bearers – offering God’s peace to all[ii].

Some days, that will be received well, and community will be formed. Meals will be shared, people will be healed, and the kingdom of God will be glimpsed. But other times, well, it’s just not pretty. And when that happens, Jesus calls his disciples to leave, and not even take the dust from that place with them on their feet. Move on, there is more journeying to do.

We often like to imagine that beautiful mountaintop scene from Matthew, with discipleship being all about going out, preaching the gospel, baptizing babies, and celebrating God’s presence with everyone joining hands and singing happily. But Luke’s version of the kingdom of God is grittier than that, reflecting that life as a disciple can be a bit of a roller coaster. Personally, I find that kind of honesty about life refreshing, because it carves out space for God to be a part of every aspect of our journeys, with us at every twist and turn in the road. And if we know that to be the case from the start, it might be easier for us to find God in the midst of the “Great Balancing Act” we know as life. And if we can do that, we might have a chance at this thing called discipleship.

We know that living a life of faith has its ups and downs. Some days, we are filled with the Holy Spirit and enthusiastic about spiritual practices. Our prayer life feels focused, we are eager to read the Bible or some other devotion. We serve others with love and compassion. We might even come to church with a spring in our step, excited about participating. The music is uplifting and the sermon really hits home with us. Other days, though, it’s not so easy. Our Bibles gather dust on the shelf because life is too chaotic. We rush through prayers or forget them all-together. We would rather hit snooze or go to brunch than attend worship. Or maybe the sermon is a dud. It happens. Or, we want to engage in fellowship, but feel disconnected from others. Maybe we fight some with each other, or grieve the loss of what once was in our faith communities. The list goes on. If we took stock of our lives, attentive to the faith aspects, I imagine we’d also find it full of ups and downs. The good news of today’s text, I think, is that Jesus tells us that’s normal and to be expected. He also calls us to go anyway.

Robert Short gives us wisdom for the journey, saying:

To get lots of mileage, you must have a great mission. If you really want to go great places, then you’ve got to have something great to go for. The greater the goal, the farther you’ll go . . . Furthermore, if you really want to be unconquerable in this quest, if you want to be a winner no matter what happens, then what you are going for must also be unconquerable. It must already be the winner[iii].

He then reassures us that all of this can be accomplished (yes, we’ll do great things! Move mountains even!) – not because of us, but because the work has already been accomplished in Jesus Christ. We are simply called to take that message into the world and share it in as many ways and in as many places as we can, trusting that God has been, is, and will be, responsible for what happens from there.

Two lesser-known theologians, Jake and Elwood Blues quipped “We’re on a mission from God!” Being disciples is not just about coming to worship and professing faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. It’s about recognizing that our Lord and Savior launches us into the world. We were not meant to be stagnant beings just biding the time until Jesus comes back. No, we are to go ahead and proclaim his coming. That’s what the seventy were sent to do in Luke, and two thousand years later what we are called to as well.

I think we often forget this part of discipleship – the going part. Especially as a community of faith. Sometimes we treat the church too much like a destination and endpoint for our faith, an offramp instead of an on-ramp on which we accelerate into the world. Carol Howard Merritt challenges us on this complacency, saying:

Too often Christians are shut up in sanctuaries, concerned about leaky roofs and outdated boilers, counting the attendance, and wringing their hands because people do not seem to be worshiping God as they did in the past. Congregations spend so much time caring for their own and feeling anxious about their demise that they sometimes forget that they, like the seventy, have been sent out with the gospel of God’s love and justice and mercy. How can we get out of the pews and join in the mission of God to the world? How, like the seventy, do congregations recognize and embrace their active participation in the reconciling work of God beyond the narrow confines of their own fears and needs?[iv].

The answer, I think, lies in our ability to simply keep going, and stay focused on the call we have been given as disciples. Ultimately, that’s what Jesus tells his followers to do. Don’t carry extra things that will distract or weigh you down, rejoice in the message you’ve been given without trying to bounce around from place to place, and if things happen that block or impede the message, just move on.

In addition to the words from Jesus and Dr. Seuss, this morning we might borrow the lyrics of another poet, Frank Lebby Stanton, who was a popular editorial columnist for the Atlanta Constitution who was named Georgia’s first Poet Laureate in 1925. Among his many writings is a turn of the century poem titled, “Keep a’Goin.” It reads:

If you strike a thorn or rose, Keep a-goin’!
If it hails or if it snows, keep a-goin’!
‘Tain’t no use to sit and whine when the fish ain’t on your line;
Bait your hook an’ keep a-tryin’- keep a-goin’!

When the weather kills your crop, keep a-goin’!
Though it’s work to reach the top, keep a-goin’!
S’pose you’re out o’ ev’ry dime, getting’ broke ain’t any crime;
Tell the world you’re feelin’ prime – keep a-goin’!

When it looks like all is up, keep a-goin’!
Drain the sweetness from the cup, keep a-goin’!
See the wild birds on the wing, hear the bells that sweetly ring,
When you feel like sigin’, sing – keep a-goin’![v]

No matter what, we are called to keep going on the mission Christ has given us – to go into the world, our topsy-turvy, chaotic, ups and downs world, and share what we know to be good news, the very gospel itself. So, let’s do it. We’ve got writers giving us inspiration, Christ himself cheering us on, and we aren’t alone; we get to do this together. Today is our day! With God’s help, we’re off to great places! So, let’s get on our way! Amen.

~Sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 14, 2019

_____________________________________________________________________________________

[i] Mitties McDonald DeChamplain, “Homiletical Perspective: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[ii] Mitties McDonald DeChamplain, “Homiletical Perspective: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[iii] Robert L. Short, The Parables of Dr. Seuss, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

[iv] Carol Howard Merritt, “Pastoral Perspective: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[v] https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7b/KEEP_A-GOIN%27_by_Frank_Lebby_Stanton_1c.jpg

Sunday’s Sermon – Picky Eaters – John 6

July 7, 2019 Leave a Comment

How many of you consider yourselves “picky eaters?” I asked this question on my Facebook page earlier this week, asking for rankings on a scale of 1-10. A few placed themselves midway, weighing various dietary choices and decreeing certain foods as anathema, from peanut butter to green peas, while others admitted to all out pickiness at the top of the scale. But the majority of my friends seem to rate themselves a 1 or 2 on a scale of 1-10, many claiming they “eat anything.”

I wonder how the disciples would have answered, particularly after hearing Jesus’ lengthy description in John 6. These almost 40 verses, some of which we read this morning, are known as the “Bread of Life Discourse.” They come in the gospel text following familiar stories like the feeding of the 5,000, and Jesus walking on water. Now, Jesus settles in the synagogue in Capernaum and tries to explain to those who have gathered what is going on.

“I am the bread of life.” It is one of seven “I am” sayings in John’s gospel that unveil who Jesus is. They echo God’s voice from the burning bush in Exodus, revealing the presence of the divine. Throughout the gospel, Jesus himself lays out that God’s ancient promises are being fulfilled, noting that the ability for all to come to him depends only upon hearing and learning[i]. The people have been following with many questions, eager for additional proofs so that they might believe. Here, Jesus provides with, as David Hull describes it, a symbol that would have had rich meaning and immediate understanding to his audience. He notes:

Today we use utensils to move the food from a plate into our mouths. Bread is often served at meals, but it is seen as a “starter” or a “side.” Many who are watching their diets choose to forgo the bread. Therefore, when we hear that Jesus is “the bread of life,” we can too easily think in terms of a metaphor for something that is as optional as a dinner roll. . . The way that Jesus and his contemporaries ate was radically different from the way most Westerners eat. No utensils were used. A person ate with his food or her hands. Bread was usually used to dip into the food and bring the food from the dish to the mouth. . . The Western mind-set allows us to think of bread as an extra that we can take or leave; but Jesus was operating with an image that was essential to the process of eating. . . . Bread, then, was not an extra to be chosen or omitted; it was how persons accessed the food that was placed before them. According to John’s Gospel, then, the incarnation is the means by which we can access and partake of the life that God offers us. . . . Life is the main course. The “bread” is how we are able to receive the main course[ii].

In this passage, Jesus connects all of the dots, and lays it on a platter, if you will, almost literally for those who would listen, and invites them to join the feast. His words are graphic and visceral, carrying weight and impact that would have made those listening take notice. The fullness of God presented in dramatic fashion, ready for the taking.

But did you catch the response of those who heard it? Of the religious leaders and even his own disciples who had been following him? They are full of doubts and speculations, and scrutiny. It must have looked like trying to get a baby to eat green beans. In a study just over 10 years ago by researchers Forestell and Mennella, they introduced pureed green beans to a group of infants for the first time. Their reactions were as you might expect:

95% of the babies squinted

82% waggled their brows

76% raised their upper lips

42% wrinkled their noses

In short, babies looked disgusted, and the more disgusted they looked, the more slowly they ate[iii]!

Here Jesus is in John 6, spoon-feeding the very words of life to all who will hear, offering them that which will sustain, and they are turning up their noses at it.

As 21^st Century Christians, we like to imagine that we would have seen Jesus and immediately known that he was the Messiah. We call ourselves disciples, indicating that he is the one we would have chosen to follow. We have the great benefit of knowing more of the story, and with 20/20 hindsight we can easily claim we would have been believers. If Jesus had shown up and said “I am the bread of life” in front of us, we would have gobbled it up, right? Maybe, or maybe not. Those who followed Jesus, even those closest to him, pushed back in this passage as they tried to make sense of it. You see, what we often forget is that Jesus was so provocative and innovative that he often stunned those gathered crowds. He left them scratching their heads, trying to figure out what it all meant. Jesus was in the business of change, and that wasn’t always readily accepted. He might as well have been offering them, well, Green Eggs and Ham.

In this classic by Dr. Seuss, the unnamed resistor is adamant about not trying what is offered to him from the enthusiastic Sam-I-Am. And so, Sam gets creative, offering different ways of hearing it and experiencing it in hopes of enticing him to take a bite. But each time, the creature resists. He doesn’t even list excuses or reasons. He simply repeats his dislike for green eggs and ham under any circumstances. He is, for the majority of the book, unable to even entertain the possibility of such a new dish that is unlike anything he knows or likes.

If we’re really honest, rather than jump in with two feet at what Christ himself would call us to do, we are a bit more like that character in the book. Writer James Kemp offers:

So many times in life we, like Sam’s friend, initially resist something that ultimately we might like, or something that ultimately we need whether we like it or not. We are hesitant to try new things, resistant to hearing new ideas or perspectives, especially when those new perspectives make us uncomfortable . . . It’s far easier to insist that we don’t like green eggs and ham than it is to try on a new way of looking at things, especially if the new message might reflect negatively on what we’ve been doing up to now[iv].

And so we resist change. We resist things that put us outside of our comfort zones. We tear things apart and seek to discredit rather than open ourselves to the possibility of learning something new.

Anne Lamott wrote that “the opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty[v]”. Sam’s friend was sure that he knew he would not like Green Eggs and Ham, even though he had never tried them. His certainty blocked his ability to have faith in what Sam might have been offering him. Have you ever resisted something simply on principle? Simply because it was new? Could you imagine what that might be like in your faith life?

Today, I’d invite you to consider what spiritual foods Jesus might be offering you that you have either flat our refused, or have been pushing around your plate for some time. Maybe it’s a spiritual practice, or way of prayer. Perhaps it’s some nudging that you keep getting a sense you’re supposed to do as a way to live out God’s love in this world, but just haven’t been able to get the fork to your mouth, so to speak. Or maybe it’s something you just can’t imagine working for you at all. Would you like it here or there? Could you, would you? What would it mean for you to test out those waters and stretch yourself in faith.

A word of caution here: I’m not suggesting that anything goes, or that you’ll like everything. I’ve heard of homes where people take “no thank-you bites”; in my house you take the number of bites equal to your age before you see if you do or don’t like something. But here’s the thing – you don’t know until you try. And sometimes, especially if you know that it’s something that is good and healthy for you, it’s worth the discipline of trying.

Remember those babies who were given green beans? They survived. In fact, after gentle introduction and offering those green beans to the babies eight to ten days in a row, it appeared they got over their initial dislike of the vegetables. It just took time. Just over a week later, those babies were eating three times as much pureed green beans as they did on their first experience[vi]. Other studies have had similar findings, prompting the advice for parents to *gently* introduce new foods multiple times, a dozen or more even, rather than give up on a particular food after one refusal. Persistence, it seems, pays off a bit.

Maybe this is why Jesus spent almost 40 verses repeating himself about being the way in which God was revealed to the world. Maybe this is why he continued to teach using parables and sit with people in the synagogue and heal and perform miracles. He used every way possible to get the disciples and others who had gathered to understand what was going on and what God was about. And maybe of the best truths about the good news of Christ’s resurrection is that God isn’t done with the world yet. Jesus continues to move among us, surprising us and demonstrating God’s power in this world. Course after course, God delivers us the bread of life. Over and over it is offered to us, the feast of grace and wholeness, the transforming possibility of new life. We get a taste of it every time we gather together as God’s people; every time we come forward to this table.

This meal, known as Communion, or the Lord’s Supper, is also called the Eucharist, which simply means “thanksgiving.” It is our moment, as those who have experienced the gospel of the gospel, to come together and say, as the character does at the end of the book, “Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am!” It is a meal of grace, where we offer our praise to God. It is also a time when we get another taste of the good news God has to offer.

Through Jesus Christ, the feast has been prepared, and we are all invited. So may we not be so quick to protest; instead, may we dare to come and eat, to taste and see that the Lord our God is good. Amen.

~sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, July 7, 2019

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[i] Richard Manly Adams, Jr, “Exegetical Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[ii] David W. Hull, “Homiletical Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[iii] https://www.parentingscience.com/how-to-start-babies-on-solid-food.html; https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/18055673

[iv] James W. Kemp, The Gospel According to Dr. Seuss, (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 2004)

[v] Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, (New York: Riverhead Trade, 2006), 256-57., as quoted by Margrey R. Devega, “Pastoral Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[vi] https://www.parentingscience.com/how-to-start-babies-on-solid-food.html; https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/18055673

Sunday’s Sermon – Waiting Rooms – Psalm 27; Luke 13:31-35

March 17, 2019 Leave a Comment

Think about the last time you were in a waiting room. Maybe it was a doctor’s office, or hospital or surgical center. Maybe it was a car dealership or the DMV. Often times, they have a similar feel to them: rows or groupings of identical chairs, bad lighting, stacks of dated magazines. Instead of bad elevator music, there is often a television set to a never-ending stream of home improvement shows. We scan the room to find a seat and generally hope that whatever we are waiting for won’t take too long. Sometimes, we know it’s going to take a while, so we bring some provisions. Generally speaking, there are about a million other things we would rather be doing, or places we would rather be.

Waiting can be tedious and boring. The longer the wait is drawn out, the more restless we can become, and irritation begins to set-in. Waiting rooms can even breed anxiety, particularly in the face of fearing the unknown. Our time in waiting rooms, then, becomes give and take between hopeful anticipation and wrestling with the unknown. What a clever parallel to these 40 days of Lent for us. Lent is a time of waiting, where we are left to sit with our thoughts and ask deep questions about faith, even when we know we may not get clear or final answers. It is a time to have focused, intentional conversation with God, and to grow in our understanding of God’s presence in our lives and in our world. In Lent, we are bold enough to confront the gritty parts of our lives and world and try to make sense of it all in light of our faith.

That, in a nutshell, is the journey of the Psalmist in Psalms 27. Perhaps more than any other book in the Bible, Psalms speak to the experience of our lives with the full range of human emotion. This book of 150 includes joy, sorrow, anger, confidence and hope, confusion and despair. Its wide diversity is a powerful testament that we can talk to God under any circumstances. In our text for today, the psalmist balances fear and trust with a gritty honesty that speaks to our Lenten experiences.

The Psalm is bookended with affirmations of faith and trust in God. This is where the writer begins and ends. On their own, these verses “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (verse 1) and “wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage;” (verse 14) make for comforting phrases. But their true power comes by examining the verses in between. For the journey of the psalmist does not ignore the pain and challenges in his own life. In fact, it does quite the opposite, as the struggles are laid out before God in a lament.

The psalmist doesn’t ignore his suffering or minimize it. He does not check it at the door so to speak as he comes before God . . . Rather, he tells his story. He speaks of his pain. He calls out to God with all the rawness and honesty of someone who has been pushed to the limit. He doesn’t hold back. He pours out his complaint to God, not to push God away but rather, to plead for more, more of God’s presence, more of God’s instruction, more of God’s protection[i].

This week, the popular Tuesday night drama, This is Us featured an entire episode set in the waiting room of a hospital over the span of 26 hours or so. The tension was palpable throughout the episode, with each character responding to the events in their own way. One attempted to lighten the waiting with a game: name a food that is not improved by either chocolate or ranch. But it didn’t take long for their own life issues to come pouring out. Conflicts were sparked and the precarious nature of their relationships were on display. Stories of truth were spoken.

This is the work of Lent, as we lift up the struggles our lives into God’s light. In this 40-day waiting room, we identify our own shortcomings and challenges, whether it is a broken relationship with a friend or coworker or those things about ourselves that we long to change but just can’t seem to figure out how to do it in ways that stick. Lent is a time for beginning to sort it all out, within ourselves, with each other, and even with God. And, going further, Lent is also a time when we are painfully aware of the hardships and brokenness that exists in our world. It doesn’t take long to find these examples, either. This morning, we might name those in Nebraska and other parts of the Midwest who are literally underwater; for farmers whose crops are gone, for those trapped on rooftops, and those who have now lost everything. We acknowledge the horrors experienced in a mosque during prayer on Friday in Christchurch, New Zealand, an act of terror that led to the death of 50 of God’s children. We lament the ways in which hatred takes hold and intolerance and fear become driving forces. Both in our world and our nation and our communities, there is much to call attention to.

These are also the cries of Jesus over Jerusalem in our gospel text, and his longing for wholeness in the midst of heartbreak. Jesus uses the image of a hen, gathering her brood under her wings, as an image for a God who longs to take this brokenness and pain and offer shelter and protection.

And while the gospel text has the children denying such an opportunity, the Psalmist finds a place in God’s shelter. The Psalmist is insistent on God’s presence in the midst of all that scares him. This psalm, then, “shows a courageous life lived amid the onslaught of bullies described as oppressors, enemies, and false witnesses[ii]. It dares to name the challenges and struggles of the world and then proclaim that they will be no match for God, and at the same time let surface those doubting questions of how that can be true. For the psalmist, faith and doubt become intermingled in the very real wrestling with what it means to live in God’s light and at the same time, the unknown of how or if things will go from there. Amanda Benckhuysen notes:

Confidence in God’s ability to overcome the darkest of evils does not require holding back our tears, our disappointments, our deep longing for more of God. Faith does not rule out doubt. Both trust and lament are proper expressions of faith in the context of hardship and suffering and often they go hand in hand. What they share in common is an unwavering conviction in the reality, the goodness, and the power of God, who is both worthy of our confidence but also attentive to our cries for help[iii].

In the end, the psalmist has a choice in the face of his fears. And rather than give into them, and into the spiral of reactionary choices made out of fear, the psalmist chooses to trust instead. And little by little, this choice builds into a renewed confidence of who God is, even as the psalmist begs for confirmation to be revealed. Richard Stern describes this as a psalm about when our intentions are put under pressure, and he leans into the ambiguity of how it ends, noting:

This is not a psalm about how God answers our prayers. It is a prayer, even a plea, for patience, for trust, for the ability and the endurance to wait for the Lord, even when there is no sign that prayers may be answered, when the Lord’s arrival is a long, undetermined way off[iv].

This Psalm tells the truth of life as we know it: even in the midst of deep faith, there are deep questions and many unknowns. Our lives, particularly in these Lenten weeks, are living in this tension, in the waiting room of what is and what will be. Here, may we name the things that are real. Here, may we trust in a God who walks in the grittiness of our lives with us. Here, may we find a way in the wilderness. Here, may we wait for the Lord, with a hopeful anticipation that lets go of our fears and trusts a new ending to God, who is our light and our salvation. Be strong, and let your heart take courage, for these 40 days and beyond. Amen.

~Sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, March 17, 2019

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

[i] Amanda Benckhuysen, “Commentary on Psalm 27,” Working Preacher for March 17, 2019, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3994, accessed 3/16/19.

[ii] Robin Gallaher Branch, “Exegetical Perspective: Psalm 27,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[iii] Amanda Benckhuysen, “Commentary on Psalm 27,” Working Preacher for March 17, 2019, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3994, accessed 3/16/19.

[iv] Richard C. Stern, “Homiletical Perspective: Psalm 27,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

Sunday’s Sermon – Sharing Our Stories – John 20:30-31, 21:25

September 23, 2018 Leave a Comment

What’s your story? If you often meet new people, chances are you have figured out a way to answer the question “tell us a little bit about yourself” in a somewhat succinct way. In conferences and retreats, I’ve had leaders instruct us to find a partner and each spend 1-2 minutes telling our life story to each other. It seems both a really long time, and not nearly enough time to get it all in, so you’re forced to pick and choose what is the most important to you, at least for that moment in time.

Everyone has a story to tell. The stories we tell are reflections of who we have been, who we are today, and who we want to be. Telling them matters. Listening to them matters even more. Herbert Anderson and Edward Foley say:

Stories make claims on our minds and hearts, often before we know why or how . .. Stories hold us together and keep us apart. We tell stories in order to live . . . Stories are privileged and imaginative acts of self-interpretation[i].

As people of God, we are a storytelling people. From the very beginning, God’s story has been told. Our text from Deuteronomy 6 reminds us of this rich heritage. Immediately following the reading of the Ten Commandments this is what they are to do: pass the story on. It’s important. Tell it not just to your children, but to your children’s children. This is what will help you prosper and have life. These are sacred words and instructions. Keep them close to you. Bind them to your very person so they are always close at hand, a tangible reminder of the God who brought you out of slavery in Egypt and is still with you today. For the people of Israel, wandering in the wilderness, this is a particularly important reminder. They are away from their homes, from all that they know, uncertain of their future. In these challenging times, they turn to the stories of their faith to remind them of God’s presence. For a displaced people, it is the stories that kept them going and kept them alive, connected to their homeland and looking forward to the promise of a better tomorrow.

Storytelling is the basis of our written Scriptures, which began as oral traditions that eventually made their way to parchment and paper and now pixels on a smartphone. But regardless of how they are transmitted, the Gospel of John spells out the reason for these books – they are written so that we might believe and have life in Jesus’ name. The Bible is God’s Story. Each time we open its pages, we dive into the incredible witness of Scripture from beginning to end. We are captivated by the creative energy and careful guidance of Israel. We are startled by prophetic proclamations. We are humbled and rejoice in the example and teachings of Jesus and the powerful good news of Christ’s death and resurrection. We see how the early church wrestled with how to be disciples in a changing world. Our exploration of the Bible, though, is not just an advanced literature or history course. These stories weren’t just written to be taken as factual footnotes or a narrative resume for the Divine. Rather, they were written so that they would have an impact on us. They are stories to captivate our hearts, our souls, our minds, and to prompt us into action.

The Bible is God’s story. The Bible is also our story. When we study it, we learn about people of faith throughout the centuries. We may even discover people like us – the stories of Scripture include an assortment of characters – poor and rich, young and old, male and female, hopeful and cynical – and God works through them all. Like the people in Scripture, we too have our stories of faith. They are moments where we have come to know who God is in profound ways, times when we have wrestled with angels and demons and struggled to understand, when we have rested in God’s presence or in the comfort of God’s embrace as we wept, and when we have danced for joy in the presence of the Lord. They are our stories of faith.

God’s story so powerful, so incredible, so important, that we have to gather together to tell it to each other. That’s what worship is each week – an opportunity to retell God’s story to each other, and to celebrate how God’s story has intersected with ours. Through worship, we can interpret our stories in light of the story of Jesus and God’s overwhelming love for us. We can better make sense of our own stories and of the stories of the world, and we can rest and trust in the author of our stories, giving praise to a God who is the alpha and omega, the beginning and end of all stories.

When our stories and God’s story intersects, discipleship is the result. Living a life of faith means living into God’s stories and making them our own. It begins with studying them, reading and talking about them to the point that they become woven into your very being. For many this happens with a favorite story of verse, such as Psalm 23, that comes quickly to the surface when we are in need of comfort or reassurance. But the more we engage in our understanding of God’s story, the more readily these stories will come to us in a variety of circumstances, both challenging and celebratory. And, perhaps even more important than a litany of memory verses, we begin to embody the values and ideals God exemplifies and encourages in these texts. We become storytellers.

This fall, a large part of our visioning process is helping tell the stories of our lives and the life and ministry of this congregation. The reflections in worship two weeks ago, along with upcoming opportunities for conversations, help us think about where we have been and who we are now, in order to imagine who God is calling us to be. Visioning is about continuing to write the story, and when it is done well, we remember that it is not just a story of our own design; it is God’s story, too.

God’s stories are begging to be told, not just by the preacher on a Sunday morning, but by each and every one of us day in and day out as we seek to be a part of God’s story. So this morning, we’re going to get a little practice. I invite you to take a few moments to collect your thoughts, then find a friend (or two or three) and spend some time sharing a story of your faith. You can use the questions in your bulletin insert as a guide if you like. It can be as simple as your favorite Bible story or verse and why it matters to you. It can be a time when you have felt particularly close or particularly far from God. It can be a story of your past, your present, or even a story you hope for in your future. Whatever your story is, I invite you to share it with someone else today. This is just a taste or sample of what it is like, of course – try to only speak for a few minutes to allow others to have a turn – but perhaps it’s a practice we can engage in more regularly as a community of God’s people. As we explore God’s Story, let’s share it and our own stories with each other. Because when we do, we will be a witness to a living and active God, who continues to write all of our stories – even today, even now. This is God’s Story. This is Our Story. May it continue to unfold. Amen.

From bulletin insert: Sharing Our Stories
Consider these questions about your faith story:
• What is one of your favorite memories of church or experiences in faith?
• Who helped you learn about God on your faith journey?
• Where is a time or place you have felt closest to God?
• What are some of your favorite Bible stories or verses?
• What is one puzzling question you have about God or faith?

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 23, 2018

[i] Herbert Anderson and Edward Foley, Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals: Weaving Together the Human and the Divine. (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 1998).

Sunday’s Sermon – What’s In A Name? – Mark 8:27-30

September 16, 2018 Leave a Comment

Preparing to have a child is full of a ton of decisions, and endless questions from friends, family, doctors, even strangers in the check-out line. As the due date gets closer, one becomes more common – “what are you going to name him?” Of all the decisions you make, naming your child can be one of the most difficult. Do you pick a name that reflects names that run in the family? Are you looking for a name that is traditional, trendy, or totally unique? Will you name your child after a fruit or vegetable? What kind of nicknames might come from this name? Is it going to sound right with your last name, or give your little on an awkward set of initials? It’s easy to overthink this, but also get stuck in a lot of places. And that’s without the commentary other people are bound to give if you share your name early. Even in modern society, naming has a lot of pressure; this is the name that likely will reflect and maybe shape your child’s identity for the rest of their life. It is one of the first things that we share about a baby’s arrival, and it’s kind of a big deal. Like in the opening sequence of the movie The Lion King, when all the animals come to Pride Rock as “The Circle of Life” plays, and Rafiki lifts up the little lion cub, presenting “Simba” to the entire kingdom. It is dramatic and full of meaning, not just for the one being named, but for the whole community.

The opening verses of Mark’s gospel are a similar proclamation, as the evangelist says “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. (Mark 1:1)” In this, he makes a bold assertion, a royal proclamation if you will, that this is not just any ordinary person or story. This is Jesus Christ, christos in the Greek, which means “anointed one” and would have connections with the anointing of kings in ancient Israel. “Christ” is not a last name for Jesus; it is a proclamation of his identity, and shapes everything in the story that follows. The next eight chapters in Mark demonstrate a flyover of Jesus’ ministry along the sea and in the wilderness, full of stories of healings and miracles. Along the way, we hear the buzz among the people of Galilee. Jesus casts out an unclean spirit and they ask “who is this?” (1:27). He tells the paralytic that his sins are forgiven and the religious leaders question his authority, for “who can forgive but God alone?” (2:1-12). Jesus speaks in the storm and the disciples wonder “who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (4:41).

Halfway through the gospel, these murmurs turn from a quiet buzz to a direct question, a hinge in the narrative that shifts everything in the verses we read just a few moments ago as Jesus is on the way to Caesarea Philippi. This time, it is Jesus who asks the question. First, he inquires about what people are saying about him and his identity, almost as if testing the waters of gossip. The disciples answer with reports that indicate the overall reception of Jesus up to this point by the community, each with a significance that hints at a bigger answer.

In chapter 6, Herod Antipas is alarmed that Jesus is John the Baptist, which is a startling revelation for Herod just had him beheaded, so this would indicate he had risen from the dead. Resurrection would shake the very foundations of whomever was in power. Others said Elijah, which would have brought hope in Jewish hearts aching for God’s promised Messiah, as many expected Elijah’s presence to be a necessary prerequisite to a messianic appearance. Elijah is only one of two in the Hebrew scriptures who did not die, but was taken to be with God directly, and in a mighty fashion with a chariot of fire. But perhaps he was a prophet, which would have given reassurance to the people that God had not abandoned them, even though the people in the 1^st century were under Roman occupation and did not have their own king from the line of David[i]. All of these hinted at the expectations the people of God had for their redeemer and Savior. And yet, none were quite right. So Jesus pointedly asks again, “Who do you say that I am?”

He’s not looking for the textbook answer. As Andre Resner notes:

[Jesus] demands that they answer from their core. They cannot rely on hearsay – gossip theology – from politicians or theologians. They must take a personal stand[ii].

Of course, Peter is ready and quick to answer. He repeats the label given to readers in the very first verse of Mark’s gospel: “You are the christos,” the Messiah. All of the hopes and expectations for centuries of God’s people are met in this word.

Ding! Ding! Ding! We might expect a round of applause, gold star, or some other award. But what follows is the opposite. They’re told not to tell anyone about him. This is known as the “Messianic Secret,” and is a repeated instruction throughout the gospel. It’s not because they necessarily get the title wrong, but because even with the right answer, they don’t fully comprehend what it means. In the verses that follow these, Jesus describes what is to come, and dismantles the idea that the Messiah will overthrow everything in a blaze of glory. God’s power and authority is not going to look like they expect it to look. Instead it is a story that continues to Jerusalem and the cross.

His question isn’t looking to boost his own ego at the midpoint in the gospel, or determine the disciples’ approval rating of his ministry. It isn’t a test. Instead, as Dr. Karoline Lewis offers, this question posed to the disciples is:

It’s the moment when you come face-to-face with your own commitment, your own discipleship, your own identity. It’s the moment when you have to admit to what extent how you follow Jesus actually connects with some sort of confession of who you believe Jesus to be.

. . .

“Who do you say that I am?” is at the same time, “who will you say that you are?” That’s the rub of this question, the heart of its difficulty. If it we only had to provide an answer to Jesus’ question of his identity, that would be one thing. However, answering the question of Jesus’ identity is also having to give voice to our own[iii].

What was true for the disciples then is true for us today. If we claim Jesus to be the Christ, the Messiah, our Lord and Savior, then we are also asserting something bold about who we are choosing to be. And, even like Peter in his enthusiasm, in our eagerness to call ourselves Christian, we might not always slow down enough to think about all that it actually means. Wrapped in this question is a renewed invitation to discipleship. It is Jesus again standing at the shoreline, asking the disciples to follow him. And hearing it today offers us the opportunity to renew our own sense of discipleship as those who claim Jesus as Christ. We might ask ourselves what difference it makes for us to claim Jesus is the one in whom all of our hopes are realized. Does it make a difference in your life to profess this faith? How? Are we living as those who have truly been transformed by the good news of the Messiah, or are we just giving Jesus the head nod and going about our lives. Are our choices reflective of the faith we profess? This is what is asked as Jesus turns to us and says “Who do YOU say that I am?” It is a powerful moment for each of us to consider.

It is also beyond just our own individual relationships with Christ. If you look closer at his question, the word “you” actually is plural. Jesus isn’t asking for personal responses of allegiance from the disciples. He is asking for a collective understanding. Southern vernacular helps us articulate it better. In this passage, Jesus is asking: “Who do y’all” or perhaps better “all y’all” say that I am? It is a convicting statement for “the church” in many ways, and is one we should be answering continually as a community of faith. And I think we are seeking to do that here. In fact, I can name three ways it’s happening in our context right now.

At the 8:30 service, we affirm the Spirit’s call to Lisa Wolfgang to serve our congregation as a deacon. Part of her ordination vows is to affirm her faith, including a profession of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, and in response we promise our support and prayers for her leadership along with our other officers. The ordination vows, which all elders, deacons, and ministers of word and sacrament make in the PC(USA), remind us of who we are called to be as those who claim Jesus as the Messiah. They talk about being faithful to the holy Scriptures, attentive to God’s guidance, respecting one another and seeking to live in peace, purity and unity. They call us to serve with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love. What a wonderful list of what it means to live into our faith!

At the 11:00 service, we have the joy of celebrating the sacrament of Baptism, our reminder that we are claimed as Christ’s own forever. Shelby’s parents, Drew and Kasey, will profess their faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, and immediately follow with a promise to raise her in that faith. Furthermore, we as a congregation make a promise to teach and support her on behalf of the entire Christian church, so that she may grow up to come to know the grace and love of God through Jesus Christ. Baptism reminds us that claiming Jesus as Christ not only proclaims grace and forgiveness, but places us in the context of a community who encourages and nurtures each other throughout our entire journey of faith. This is what it means to be a Christian, too.

Finally, many of you took part in our visioning process which launched last Sunday. There is still time to respond to our initial questions, from a written survey that’s available in the Narthex, to large pieces of paper for your notes near the coffee area, to the link that is available in this month’s newsletter or on our Facebook page. Our Visioning Team will begin its work with these responses, and coming soon will invite you to participate in further face-to-face conversations about who God is calling us to be as a congregation. Throughout this process, together we will be answering the question Jesus asked his disciples in Mark, professing who it is we believe Christ to be, and who we are called to be in response to that affirmation of faith.

And really, that’s what being the church is all about. Making sure that we hear that question from Jesus, put some time and energy into our answer, and then make sure the response we give is not just lip service, but reflected in the lives we lead as his disciples. Christ, or Messiah, has to be a name that makes a difference for us, both as individuals and as a community of faith. Otherwise, we’ve missed the point. So even as we blurt out our initial answer, Jesus calls us to pause for a moment, and think about all it means, for us and for the world. For what is in Jesus’ name? Everything. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 16, 2018

—————————————————————-
[i] Summarizing Andre Resner, “Homiletical Perspective: Mark 8:27-30,” Feasting on the Gospels: Mark, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Karoline Lewis, “Who Do You Say That I Am?” Dear Working Preacher, September 16, 2018, https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5220, accessed 9/13/2018

Sunday’s Sermon – Put Your Best Foot Forward – Ephesians 6:10-20

August 26, 2018 Leave a Comment

What do you, or did you, need to start the school year off right? A special new lunchbox? A fresh box of crayons? Those yellow number 2 pencils? Chances are, in addition to your own favorites, you were checking off a school supply list from a teacher. Some are even quite detailed, down to the color of the folders with or without brads in the middle. The purpose of these lists, I think, among other things, is to help get students prepared with everything they might need for the coming year. And even if we are not in class anymore, some of us love to walk those aisles with a sense of nostalgia, or the joy of that new box of crayons for ourselves.

Even as adults we often make sure we have the supplies we need before we begin a project. It’s a good plan to do this before attempting to assemble a piece of furniture, for example. For other projects, failing to do so means at least 5 trips to Home Depot to get the right tools or items needed for your fix. I’m keenly aware of this as a natural instinct right now, as we’re about 5 weeks or so from my due date, and that “nesting” desire is setting in, prompting us to prep the nursery, clean the house, and make plans for the arrival of our second child. The point in all of these instances is to get ready with everything you’ll need to make the process as smooth as it can be. It’s living out the Boy Scout motto, “be prepared,” and anticipating what might be needed along the way.

The verses we have read this month from the letter to the Ephesians have all revolved around this kind of preparation for the early Christians – both the eager anticipation of Christ’s return and trying to figure out how to navigate life as believers in the context of a challenging world. Historians believe that:

the community of Christians, called “Ephesians” may have lived somewhere in Asia Minor during the first two centuries CE. They were religious minorities in the Roman Empire. Christianity was illegal until 313[i].

In this context, we are reminded of the persecution and struggle the early church had in relation to living in the Roman Empire. This is the root of the idea of “spiritual warfare,” where people of faith were up against a lot, and trying to make sense of a new way of belief in and amongst significant influences that often pushed against the cores of following Jesus. One commentary notes:

If they were in fact in Ephesus, they may have been taken to worship the emperor at the newly constructed temple of Domitian to test their allegiance. Ephesus was also a thriving commercial city and the cultic center of goddess Artemis[ii]

Recognizing that these Christians would be up against a lot, to the point where it would feel like a significant battle, the writer leaves them with a “supply list” for living the Christian life to help them survive the struggles they might face both externally and internally.

The imagery may seem strange to us, even off-putting. It certainly is militaristic and heavy with images of battle that most of us don’t encounter every day. In this, remembering the context is particularly important. For what the writer gives is not a list of advanced weaponry, but rather a significant list of defensive and protective items, meant to withstand, not necessarily conquer. This is particularly important when we consider the ways in which Christians have utilized such battle metaphors to justify holy wars and conflicts in the following centuries, the Crusades being a notable example, but not the only one. The purpose of this “equipment list” was not to create some sort of “army” for God, but rather to help Christ followers to “put their best foot forward” into living the life to which we have been called (see Ephesians 4).

This morning, I want to borrow from my colleague Rev. Sara Nave Fisher, and suggest a modernized look at these items as a way of understanding how they might continue to be our “discipleship supply list” for Christian living today[iii]:

First – the belt of truth we might consider as an identification badge or credentials.

the “belt” of Roman armor wasn’t just a way to keep pants in place – it was more like a badge, it was how they showed rank – their experiences, who they wereⁱⁱⁱ.

Perhaps we show our rank visually with some sort of symbol of our faith. Like a fish or bumper sticker on the back of our car, or a cross necklace. In this, we proclaim our allegiance first to God, rather than anything else that would otherwise claim us. The belt is placed at the center of our being. This represents what we stand for that holds it all together at our very core.

The breastplate of righteousness is similar. It is where we show our true colors. It’s more than just whether we are wearing red and black or white and gold to identify with our team. It’s about carrying ourselves in a way that when people see us, they see reflections of God. Both become almost a uniform that helps us proclaim not just who we are, but who God is.

Next, the shoes on our feet. The verse here isn’t so specific about what kind of footwear, but rather reminds us of the purpose of it – whatever will make us ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. For some of us, that’s sneakers so we’re ready to go. For others, it’s orthopedic shoes that we might not be slowed down by any ailment. Maybe for you it’s leopard print high heels that command attention and give a sense of power and fun to your message. For some it’s boots – cowboy, combat, or steel-toe – meant for hard work and heavy liftingⁱⁱⁱ. It could even be flip-flops, representing a laid-back attitude that creates a sense of comfort and ease in conversation. Whatever it is for you, the writer tells you to put your shoes on so that you’ll be ready to go when the time comes. It’s about being prepared, after all. Our shoes can help give us the traction to make it through even challenging and uneven terrain, digging in as needed with cleats or tread, or perhaps gliding across a smooth dance floor for conversations that require more gentleness. It’s not about stomping around; it’s about taking the right steps.

Fourth, the shield of faith. This one is clearly meant to deflect and defend, perhaps offering some sort of barrier or buffer between you and the challenges of the day. The shield can help take the brunt of the blow, or offer additional time to reflect before responding.

Perhaps a modern equivalent might be a “backpack of faith” or some sort of toolkit that holds additional supplies to strengthen us in our faith. Because people will disagree with us – they may loudly disagreeⁱⁱⁱ.

That’s a natural consequence of proclaiming peace with those special shoes, and sometimes we need something else to pull from to make it through.

Next, the helmet of salvation, that thing we need to keep on the top of our minds. Or, put another way, the “sunglasses of salvation,” the lens through which we see the world.

Above all else, we have salvation. Even when our shields fail, even when our breastplate is infiltrated, we have salvation. No matter what, we have a God who saves us. Because at the end of the day it isn’t about us or what we do about who we are – the good news of the Gospel is about who God isⁱⁱⁱ.

The helmet of salvation reminds us of the connection that should exist between our head and the core of our being – that belt of truth, and guides our thoughts and actions to become extensions of that understanding above all else. It also means seeing the world through the eyes of a God who saves; this means extending grace and forgiveness to each other, just as we have been forgiven in Christ.

Finally, the writer gives one item – the sword of the Spirit. Fortunately, this one comes with a bit more explanation – he’s talking about the Word of God, which has the power to transform and change and cut through even the most difficult circumstances with good news. Let’s liken this to a collection of sharpened pencils. A lot of school supply lists nowadays have not just pencils on the list, but specifically indicate that they are to be sharpened, and for good reason. First, quite simply, an unsharpened pencil is not tremendously useful for writing. It needs to be shaped and worked before it’s usable. Good teachers and administrators have learned to do this in advance. In the middle of a test is not the time you want a room full of students having to sharpen their pencils. It’s loud, noisy, and distracting, and it takes time away for the work you should be doing. Having the pencils sharpened already makes you ready to jump right in for the task at hand, whether it’s taking notes or taking a test.

Using the sharpened pencils of the word of God means that we know the Bible so well, we have spent time studying and understanding, and we can have conversations about itⁱⁱⁱ.

Note, this doesn’t mean we are supposed to use the Bible as a weapon. In the movie Saved, the lead character literally throws her Bible at a classmate trying to get her to change what the character believes is wayward living. That’s not the intention of God’s Word. Rather, it is meant to shape us and guide us. So, having sharpened pencils of this word is about recognizing the power inherent in the Spirit’s movement as we read and study the Bible together, and knowing it has the power to change even us:

It’s knowing that God’s word cuts through evil, not through each other. It cuts through racism and through classism and division of all kinds – again, not through each otherⁱⁱⁱ.

It’s trusting that, in the end, as the Psalmist proclaims, the Word of the Lord will endure forever, even as everything else fades away. In this way, it can become like a permanent marker I suppose, but the pencil reminds us of how the Spirit is continually moving and providing shading and different levels of understanding, allowing us even to erase some of our preconceived notions and correct our own answers about faith.

What a list, right? With these items in our cart, we should have everything we need to lead lives of faithfulness to Christ. And we might be tempted to rush out and seek to check them all off the list. Here’s the hitch, though. They aren’t necessarily easy to find. We won’t be able to make a quick run through Target’s school supply aisle and grab them all, and that’s not just because those aisles in stores are quickly being replaced with Halloween costumes and Christmas decorations. It’s because this list from Ephesians:

Isn’t an external list that we have to go shop for. It’s one that has already been given to us by Godⁱⁱⁱ.

That reminder comes to us again and again in Ephesians, ringing out like a well-known chorus. It is God who fills us with the resources we need to go about this discipleship business, through the gifts of grace that come alongside the good news of Jesus Christ. Ephesians offers the reminder that it’s been within us all along, and urges believers to dig deeper into themselves to discover it, and then use it.

Our bags are already packed! God has made us ready to go! We just have to remember to take it with us when we go out the door. May we be prepared in the best way we can, putting on all God has already given us, so that each day we can “put our best foot forward” and walk into the journey of faith and life before us. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
August 26, 2018

————————————————————————————
[i] Haruko Nawata Ward, “Theological Perspective: Ephesians 6:10-20,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Many of these parallels from Rev. Sara Nave Fisher, “Armor,” sermon delivered August 19, 2018. Shared with Rev. Elizabeth Milford on August 22, 2018.

Sunday’s Sermon – Leftovers – John 6:1-14; 2 Kings 4:42-44

July 29, 2018 Leave a Comment

Mention “leftovers” and you are likely to get a wide range of opinions, some of them quite strong. Some may insist that no leftover is a good one, while others appreciate encore performances of their favorites. I would offer that some things even taste better when they are leftovers, as the flavors have truly had the chance to come together. Consider a good batch of chili or slow simmered sauce. Or, my favorite “leftover” to enjoy: banana pudding.

Both of our scripture readings today leave God’s people with a lot of leftovers. Elijah’s meal feeds everyone with food left. In the gospel we hear the familiar story of Jesus blessing and multiplying a simple meal, so much so that twelve baskets are overflowing. These stories build upon the idea of God providing for us in a dramatic, exponential way. This is not just manna in the wilderness, enough sustenance for one day at a time; these are miracles of abundance.

The presence of leftovers is a promise that God isn’t done with us yet. There will be food and nourishment for another day. In fact, knowing they are there, we might even look forward to it. Leftovers, in a theological sense, build our anticipation of a continued relationship with God. Such stories remind us of the overwhelming generosity of God. Stories like these feeding tales encourage us to remember that even as we marvel in God’s goodness and blessings, they are only a small glimpse of what God is capable of. God is always bigger than our experiences, even our imaginations. Our God is indeed limitless. It’s as if we get to the end of an amazing deal or offer, and then hear that tag line “but wait, there’s more!”

This summer, we have spent 9 weeks exploring some of the stories of our faith and the songs that proclaim them. It was hard to pick such a small selection, so, as we come to the end of the summer together, I wanted to take time to remind you that, like those baskets of bread after all had been fed, there are ample “leftover” hymns for us to enjoy. This morning, we will get to sample a bit of those, first with a taste of some of the stories that didn’t make it into our series:

Did you know that one of the benefits of the Reformation was the rediscovery of congregational singing? Martin Luther was a huge proponent of the use and power of sacred music. He is quoted as saying:

If any man despises music, as all fanatics do, for him I have no liking; for music is a gift and grace of God, not an invention of men. Thus it drives out the devil and makes people cheerful. Then one forgets all wrath, impurity, and other devices[i].

Luther also wrote many hymns in the early sixteenth century, including perhaps the most powerful hymn for the Reformation, based off Psalm 46, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. He said:

I wish to compose sacred hymns so that the Word of God may dwell among the people also by means of songs[ii].

Of course, no study of hymns would be complete without adequate mention of the late 17^th and early 18^th century poet Isaac Watts, who is frequently referred to as the father of English hymnody. He once wrote that:

The singing of God’s praise is the part of worship most related to heaven; but its performance among us is the worst on earth[iii].

For a period of two years, he wrote one hymn a week, seeking to give the church a better voice for its theology in song. Because of his departure from the classical settings of the Psalms, he was considered a radical churchman in his day. His more than 600 works include such scandalously new-fangled hymns as When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, I Sing the Mighty Power of God, O God, Our Help in Ages Past, Jesus Shall Reign, and Joy to the World.

Few songs are as well-known and celebratory as Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee. Set to Beethoven’s “Hymn to Joy”, from his ninth symphony (his last composed and generally considered the greatest). The words were penned by Henry van Dyke, a Presbyterian pastor from Pennsylvania who also served as our denomination’s moderator, a professor of literature at Princeton University, a Navy chaplain during World War I, and U.S. Ambassador to Holland and Luxembourg under President Wilson. He described the writing of the hymn, first published in 1911, saying:

These verses are simple expressions of common Christian feelings and desires in this present time, hymns of today that may be sung together by people who know the thought of the age, and are not afraid that the truth of science will destroy their religion or that any revolution on earth will overthrow the kingdom of heaven. Therefore these are hymns of trust and hope[iv].

Finally, many favorites stem from the tradition of gospel music, which saw its rise in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Robert M. Stevenson noted that:

Gospel hymnody has been a plough digging up hardened surfaces of pavemented minds. Its very obviousness has been its strength. It is the music of the people[vi].

A prime example of this musical trend, Blessed Assurance, was written by Fanny Crosby in response to simply hearing a new tune played for her by friend and eventual composer Phoebe Knapp, for Fanny Crosby was a blind poetess. She wrote three new hymns each week for a period while serving as a music publisher, and used over 200 pen names beside her own, writing pieces often suggested by visiting ministers wishing to have a new hymn on a particular subject or text. Over the course of her lifetime, Crosby wrote more than 8,000 gospel song texts, many of which have been an important part of evangelical worship for the past century. On her tombstone is a biblical quote referencing when Mary anointed Jesus with costly perfume, and reflects her very modest perspective on her contribution to sacred music: “She hath done what she could.”

Many of the stories behind our hymns are incredible. The ways in which music shares God’s story, our story, is not just limited to a short series, or even one hymnal. In fact, I think the sheer number of hymns and songs of faith are a sign of God’s incredible abundance and faithfulness. They remind us that there are not limits to God’s song. There are always more notes to be played. The “leftovers” from this summer and the many more within the pages of our hymnals and beyond remind us that God’s song continues. In fact, the songs of praise we offer and ways we express ourselves musically are ones that should go on and on, telling the story of God to new generations. Some old favorites will stand the test of time, alongside new melodies and lyrics that convey how God’s Word continues to be fresh and new to the next generation.

As people of faith, we are called to rise up and sing, with saints through all the years, with siblings in faith next to us in the pews, and for the future of God’s people who will continue to let voices ring forever in the glory of God. This morning, we invite you to do just that with a hymn sing to conclude this series together, allowing God’s word to be proclaimed once again in song! You can find hymnals in your pews, and we ask that you reference which hymnal and the hymn number so that everyone can follow along as we sing the first verse of your favorite – go ahead and call them out, as Denise leads us in song.

Let us sing!

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

July 29, 2018

————————————————————————————————————————–
[i]       Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2012).
[ii]      Ibid.
[iii]     Ibid.
[iv]    Ibid.
[v]     Ibid.
[vi]    Robert. M. Stevenson in Patterns of Protestant Church Music, as quoted by Kenneth W. Osbeck in 101 Hymn Stories.

Sunday’s Sermon – Powerless – 2 Corinthians 12:1-10

July 8, 2018 Leave a Comment

Think of a time when your home lost power. In the summertime, these outages are hot, sticky, and frustrating. It disrupts every sense of normalcy we have about our lives, as we work on other arrangements, and mourn the loss of refrigerators and freezers full of food. As we have learned here about our new HVAC system, even a small blip in the power grid can prompt our new unit to shut off to protect the compressor – which is good for the longevity of the system, and less good when you have a hot sanctuary despite things looking like they are running properly on the thermostat. But more than just inconvenient, being without power is so hard because we realize how vulnerable we are to outside factors and sources. To play with the words a bit, we are “power-less,” both literally with the electricity outages, but also in other ways, unable to fully control the situation, forced into waiting it out and hoping for the best. And no one likes to be powerless or weak.

Except maybe the Apostle Paul in today’s New Testament reading. His premise, on the surface, is a little ridiculous – weaknesses, Paul says, are good. In fact, that’s about what he will boast. He even goes so far as to add in the thorn in his side, persecutions and hardships to the list. It doesn’t make much sense, does it? Why on earth would we want to tell others about those places in our lives where we are imperfect? It goes against the very grain of our culture, which tells us to conceal our weaknesses, not boast about them. Focus on our strengths, minimize our shortcomings. Don’t admit when you don’t know the answer, just wing it. “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Nowhere in any of these words of advice are putting our weaknesses on display. After all, that would make us incredibly vulnerable, open to criticism, and frankly, less likely to succeed. Consider taking Paul’s advice on your next job interview. Go in and lay out all of your weaknesses, boast about the skills you lack. Probably won’t get you very far.

So what is Paul getting at? By the time this epistle was written, Paul already had a relationship with the church in Corinth. The church had been through challenges and complications, akin to many of the early churches, struggling with what it meant to live as a community of faith, particularly in circumstances where cultures and habits collided. But rather than focusing on these issues, this letter takes a different turn. Here he spends a lot of time defending his own position as an apostle. There’s a reason for this. Earlier he almost sarcastically mentions some “superapostles” who had been traveling around, teaching and preaching a gospel that differed slightly from Paul’s understanding. From the context of the letter, it seems that these leaders were asserting themselves in ways that Paul was not – from accepting financial support from the Corinthians for their ministry to simply being more charismatic in their visits. Rather than try to go “toe to toe” with these other leaders, Paul chooses another route: to use the perception of him as “wimpy” or “weak” as a strength.

This seems counter-intuitive to most of us. After all, if your authority as a leader is being threatened, why not defend yourself, pad that resume a bit if you have to, so that the church in Corinth will follow you? But Paul’s choice isn’t an oversight in church politics. He is a master rhetorician, and once again pushes his readers into considering something more. To understand it, we have to look more closely at what this weakness about which Paul boasts actually is. Theologian Karl Barth describes it in this way:

what is his weakness? Simply what remains of his Christian existence after it is stripped of the religious experience of which he could boast for good reason and in truth, but that means insults, hardships, persecutions, calamities for Christ’s sake (v. 10). There he sees the power of Christ dwelling in him; there he knows himself to be strong; there is what he boasts about[1].

For Paul, boasting about weakness is an entry point into boasting about God. Rather than taking an “I can do it all myself” attitude, allowing himself to be weak means that he is open to receiving help from someone far more powerful and strong – Jesus Christ. In essence, it is Paul getting out of the way of himself, out of the way of pride, so that God’s strength can be seen more clearly (see verse 9) and the church can get away from power struggles and spend time focusing more on faith development. In this text, he presents humility almost as hyperbole as one way of getting there.

Each week in worship, we follow this pattern as we expose our own weaknesses as Christ’s disciples. It’s called the prayer of confession. In these moments, both silently and together, we admit that we don’t have it all together. Most importantly, we invite God into the midst of our sinful places and ask for forgiveness, healing, and grace. We trust that God’s grace does prevail, that we are forgiven, and in response break out into songs of praise.This is the beautiful image of song revealed in the book of Revelation, and captured in the 19^th century hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,” written by pastor and missionary Reginald Heber for use on Trinity Sunday. In it, all of creation celebrates the eternal power of the God, with voices united in endless praise.

Rather than rely on our own power, which we know to be limited, we rely on God’s, which we know to be infinite. In order to fully understand what God’s love and grace is all about, we have to get out of our own ways. To be “powerless” and “weak,” if you will, like Paul. We must do so with care, for there are some tempting and common traps that we can fall into if we take this boasting in weakness business too far.

First, we can get hung up on our list of weaknesses. Overachievers among us will be tempted to create a long list of imperfections about which to boast. If we have to be weak, we might as well be the best at it, right? In the movie Notting Hill, this activity even becomes a dinner party game, with the person who has the saddest story winning the last brownie in the pan. And it happens in real life, too. You all probably know someone in your life who always has to “one up” any story you tell. Good or bad, this person always seems to have had a life experience that’s just a touch more extreme than your story. If you share, for example, a physical weakness, such as back pain, this individual immediately jumps in with a story about how she threw out her back once, and it was ten times worse than what you had experienced. This is certainly boasting in weakness, but it’s not what Paul is talking about.

For Paul, the boasting is only a means of entry, a way of reminding ourselves who is really in charge in the world – God. So don’t get caught up in naming or proclaiming your weaknesses either. It’s not about you, after all. Instead, get caught up in inviting God into those places in your life. Boasting in weakness means flinging the doors to our weak places open and making space for God to work within us. Because when we get out of our own way, checking pride at the door, we are better able to dwell with Christ in an honest relationship that truly makes us strong.

Second, once we have our laundry list of imperfections, we can fall into the trap of using them as a cop-out for not acting in the world. We can say “oh, I’m weak. I can’t possibly do that. It’s just not in my skill set.” Eventually with this pattern, we wind up not doing anything at all. God doesn’t promise to swoop in where we are weak and just fix things for us. I can’t simply say “I am a really slow runner and tire out quickly,” and then expect the Holy Spirit to do its thing and suddenly help me run a marathon. One of my favorite scenes from the movie Evan Almighty involves God, undercover as a fellow diner at a restaurant, speaking with Evan’s wife. She is lamenting how hard things are sometimes, and is looking for answers that don’t seem to be coming anytime soon. God, portrayed by Morgan Freeman, poses some questions back to her:

If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?[2]

Something similar could be said in the way God works through our weaknesses. When we admit them, does God simply come in and patch things up, or does God give us the opportunity to work on them, promising love and support through the Holy Spirit and through others, so that we can, with God’s help, be made strong? Our strength comes from God, who made heaven and earth, and each one of us in God’s own image. God has promised to continue to strengthen us in all we say and in all we do. God doesn’t promise that it will be easy, doesn’t assure us that we won’t be weak. Rather, God promises to be with us even in our weakness. And I believe God surrounds us with a great cloud of witnesses to help make that possible. Through Christ, we are assured that none of us have to endure hardship alone. Suffering is neither God’s design nor the end result.

Remember Paul’s complaining about the thorn in his side? His begging God to remove it? God’s reply is simple, “my grace is sufficient.” That grace comes from Jesus Christ, who conquers all. By grace, God sent Christ into the world, to walk with us, to strengthen us and show us how to live, to heal us, and most importantly, to save us. Elsewhere Paul writes to the Philippians “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). This is what makes us strong – not anything we do or don’t do, but God’s grace alone. It is a gift, ready and waiting for each one of us, if we can be so bold, so crazy, so ridiculously counter-cultural, to be like Paul and boast in our weaknesses, getting out of our own way so that Christ may dwell more fully within us and work for transformation and reconciliation in our lives and in the world. When we are grounded not in our own egos and agendas but in truly seeking to embody our Savior, it is then where we will find the power and strength to live into our calling as followers of Jesus.

This morning’s hymn doesn’t have a particularly unique story behind it as some of our others have this summer, but it does give voice to Paul’s words about our power coming from Christ and nothing else. “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name” is known as the “National Anthem of Christendom.” It:

first appeared in the November 1779 issue of the Gospel Magazine, edited by August Toplady, who wrote “Rock of Ages.” This text has been translated into almost every language where Christianity is known; and wherever it is sung, it communicates the spiritual needs of human hearts. One writer has said, “So long as there are Christians on earth, it will continue to be sung; and after that, in heaven” [i].

So may we join our voices again with the saints and angels in heaven, giving God all glory, honor, and praise, and proclaiming with our lips the source of all our strength is indeed in Jesus Christ our Lord. Let us sing:

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

July 8, 2018

————————————————————————————————————

[1] Karl Barth, On Religion: The Revelation of God as the Sublimination of Religion, trans. Garrett Green (New York: T&T Clark, 2006), 92.

[2] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0413099/quotes

[i]Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2012).

Sunday’s Sermon: Good Foundations – 1 Corinthians 3:10-15, Matthew 7:24-27

July 1, 2018 Leave a Comment

I love home renovation shows. I’m a particular sucker for the Property Brothers. It’s fascinating to watch them transform spaces with facelifts that make them look and feel like totally new homes. Once you’ve watched a few episodes, you feel like an expert yourself, and learn to expect a few things along the way, like when renovating older homes, there will always be some surprises, from its asbestos under the tiles to knob and tube wiring. Recently in the competition series Brother vs Brother, both brothers discovered their projects had some considerable structural issues. Walls had to be completely rebuilt, and they poured more new foundation and footings for posts than either of them expected. Thousands of dollars and several days later, they could continue where they left off. It was definitely a set-back, but clear that he had no other option. Like many of these obstacles, the solutions are pretty straightforward: the “bones” and structure of the house have to be attended to in order for any further work to be safe and successful.

Good foundations matter. That is the theme carried in both of our scripture readings for today. In Matthew’s gospel, they come as words from Jesus himself at the end of the sermon on the mount. These chapters have outlined what it means to be a disciple, beginning with a list of blessings, the Beatitudes. They speak to the nuts and bolts of living out our lives of faith in relation to others, particularly those who are challenging to us. And then Jesus wraps it up with this final reminder that takes us almost back to the beginning. In order to be strong and faithful, his followers must ground themselves in the words he has spoken, just as a person builds a house on a rock. Inaction on these instructions are like building on sand. Things are going to shift, and the wind and rain will quickly cause its demise. It’s a pretty straightforward message about taking this lengthy hillside sermon not just to heart, but into tangible action as well.

As people of faith, our foundations should be in the promises from God; those outlined by Christ himself and those proclaimed throughout the entirety of scripture. They are the bedrocks of our faith that allow us to build our lives in a way that is shaped by our relationship with the Divine. These foundations are what many of our most loved hymns proclaim, distilling our faith into the critical aspects worth repeating in song to commit them to our memories. Some of these central promises are featured in the hymn How Firm a Foundation. In 1787, a British Baptist pastor named John Rippon published a church hymnal with an extensive collection of hymns to serve as an appendix to Dr Watt’s Psalms and Hymns, including this classic which was originally titled “Exceedingly Great and Precious Promises[i].” The author is unknown, but attributed a “K,” which most scholars assume references his Minister of Music, Robert Keene, who helped put the collection together. The seven original stanzas were based on various biblical promises from Scripture, including Isaiah 41:10, “do not fear, for I am with you”; Isaiah 43:2, “when you pass through the waters, I will be with you”; 2 Corinthians 12:9, “my grace is sufficient for you”; and Hebrews 13:5, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” Sound familiar? The hymn speaks them almost verbatim. Together, it serves as one hymnologist puts it, like “a sermon in verse[ii].” It’s not surprising that this hymn has become a favorite of Christians, including several notable American leaders including Teddy Roosevelt. It is a song that helps us cling to the promises of our faith and remind ourselves of where we are rooted. Singing about these foundations of faith provide us comfort in facing the storms, and the strength on which to build our responses to them.

Paul, master of mixing metaphors, takes on the illustration of building in 1 Corinthians 3 in relation to what it means to be the church. These verses speak to the importance of the urgency of constructing a church with integrity. The first step, of course, is to pay attention to the foundation, which can only be Jesus Christ. Keep in mind that in the early church, references to building would not have been about physical edifices. Paul wasn’t presenting a capital campaign. The word used for church in Greek, ekklesia, refers not to any kind of structure, but rather a gathering of people.

Paul’s architectural imagery serves to draw the Corinthians’ attention to the nature of their community . . . He calls the community to be self-reflective and to evaluate what they and their leaders are building[iii].

A lot of times we think about the early church as some sort of perfect utopian community of believers who all shared everything without any disagreement. The totality of Paul’s letters, particularly 1 Corinthians, quickly corrects us of this misnomer, and reminds us that from the beginning the church has wrestled with what it means to be faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ. W. Michael Chittum reminds us this is still a challenge for us today:

Every Christian church, from the most liberal to the most conservative, makes the claim that it is based on the foundation of Jesus Christ, and many condemn and exclude those who disagree with their own particular theological interpretations. Do the differences in theological approaches by these differing churches constitute changing the foundation, or is it only a difference in the “stuff” constructed on the foundation? (see 1 Cor. 3:12-15)[iv]

I am struck by this every time I engage with Christians who aren’t from our particular denominational tradition, and even sometimes with whose who are as faithful to being Presbyterian as I am. This week, I had the joy of spending time with a new group of siblings in Christ at a gathering of the Cherokee County Ministerial Association. On Wednesday, 32 of us gathered for lunch, representing a variety of congregations and faith-based non-profits around the county. As introductions were made, part of me quickly felt like a fish out of water, with so many coming from more evangelical and non-denominational traditions. I admit my own bias was that I would not have much in common with those Christians, some of whom have traditions that don’t often embrace women as pastors, for example. But, as tends to happen with God, I was humbled and reminded to be open as the discussion began and the leader talked about the importance of a shared faith together and unity in Christ. He shared news of conversations happening around racial reconciliation in Cherokee County, and a shared worship event at the Woodstock Amphitheater on the evening of July 29^th with over 25 churches already participating. We heard from a free medical clinic in Canton and their ministry of care to those who are uninsured or underinsured. In all of this, our common cause was not just to “do good,” but based in the foundation of being followers of Jesus Christ. It was a reminder that even with all of our differences (and there are some theological and practical ones that matter to me!), our foundation is the same. Sometimes, in a group of other Christians who see things differently, that can be a hard thing to say with confidence. We get caught up in the nuance. Maybe we should try to be more caught up in Jesus instead.

But even that might not free us from controversy. In the 4^th century, theologians like Origen and Arius got into intense fighting with Athanasius and others regarding whether God the Father and God the Son were one and the same substance. Interestingly, this conversation was in part prompted by the Emperor Constantine’s attempts to unify and establish a single, approved Christian faith during his reign. In seminary, our church history professor shared with us a clever song designed to identify the complicated theological arguments, set to the tune of “Supercalifragilisticexpialoadocius” from Mary Poppins, written by a former student named Dan Idzikowski, retitled “superchristological and homoousiosis.” Put in non-tongue-twisting terms, it was this work begun at the council of Nicea and continuing in additional conversations in Chalcedon and Constantinople that led to our understand of God being one substance but three persons existing in balance and inextricable relationship with one another. What we believe about Jesus Christ as the foundation certainly matters. And while difficult, I think those conversations matter, particularly for what it means to be the church, because they mean we are, as Paul hopes, paying attention to the foundation on which everything is built.

That is also part of the story behind another hymn “The Church’s One Foundation.” In the mid-1900s, the Church of England was embroiled in theological controversy of its own after a book was written by one of the influential Anglican bishops, John William Colenso, which attacked the historical accuracy of the Pentateuch, the first 5 books of what we know as the Old Testament. Pastor Samuel J. Stone was deeply bothered by this book.

Stone was known as a man of spotless character; he was chivalrous toward the weak and needy, yet he was a violent fighter for the conservative faith that was being so sternly attacked in his day. He refused to compromise one iota before Higher Criticism and the evolutionary philosophies that were becoming increasingly popular. A personal faith in the inspired Scriptures was enough for him . . . He wanted to combat the attacks of modern scholarship and liberalism which he felt would soon divide and destroy the church[v].

In response, then, he wrote a collection of 12 hymns, “Lyra of the Faithful,” all based on the Apostles’ Creed. “The Church’s One Foundation” was based on the Ninth Article of the Creed, which begins with the phrase “the holy catholic church” – catholic meaning universal. Stone was insistent that:

The unity of the Church must rest solely with a recognition of the Lordship of Christ as its head and not on the views and interpretations of men[vi].

Although I don’t agree with many of the finer points of Stone’s arguments, and am grateful for the work of scholars in theology and biblical interpretation that I believe has been guided by the Holy Spirit to move us forward, I agree wholeheartedly with his assertion that the foundation of the church must always remain in Jesus Christ. What we build on that foundation, the work of our communities of faith, will be tested and refined over time by God, just as Paul indicates in 1 Corinthians. Our theology matters because it impacts what is built upon it. Paying attention to the foundations, even things that might seem on the surface as no-brainers, like believing in Jesus Christ, bears implications for what structures become put on top of it. When we talk, then, about what it means to be the church, and how we “do ministry” together – whether it is a stewardship campaign or a slip and slide on the church lawn, a closet of clothing for people in need, or selections of hymns in worship, we have to think about the theology that undergirds these decisions. Part of our responsibility as the church is to make sure that whatever we are doing, we are doing on the foundation of our understanding of Jesus Christ as Lord. The same is true for our lives beyond these walls; we must ground them in the foundations of Christ. If we lose sight of that, we have lost sight of the gospel. That’s why hymns, I think, are so important. They remind us to not lose what is most important, and they bring us back home again to the good news. They unite more than just our voices; they unite us in faith and in proclaiming that in the midst of all we might see differently, together we proclaim the same Lord, now and forever. Confident of that harmony which we share, let us stand and sing together:

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

July 1, 2018

——————————————————————–

[i] Robert J. Morgan, Then Sings My Soul: 150 of the World’s Greatest Hymn Stories, (Nashville, TN: W Publishing Group, 2011).

[ii] Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1982).

[iii] Melanie Johnson-Debaufre, “1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23: Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[iv] W. Michael Chittum, “1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23: Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[v] Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1982).

[vi] Osbeck.

Sunday’s Sermon – Looking to Jesus – Hebrews 11:29-2:2

Sunday’s Sermon – Sent – Luke 10:1-11

Sunday’s Sermon – Picky Eaters – John 6

Sunday’s Sermon – Waiting Rooms – Psalm 27; Luke 13:31-35

Sunday’s Sermon – Sharing Our Stories – John 20:30-31, 21:25

Sunday’s Sermon – What’s In A Name? – Mark 8:27-30

Sunday’s Sermon – Put Your Best Foot Forward – Ephesians 6:10-20

Sunday’s Sermon – Leftovers – John 6:1-14; 2 Kings 4:42-44

Sunday’s Sermon – Powerless – 2 Corinthians 12:1-10

Sunday’s Sermon: Good Foundations – 1 Corinthians 3:10-15, Matthew 7:24-27

Food Pantry

Church News

Upcoming Events

Worship