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

July 23, 2017 Leave a Comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some of us need bigger signs in order to understand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

July 23, 2017

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday’s Sermon – Houseguests – John 14:1-14

July 16, 2017 Leave a Comment

Where do you like to stay when you go on vacation? Do you seek out a luxury, 5 star, all-inclusive resort? Are you a “pack in, pack out” kind of camper? Or prefer the communal living in a hostel? Maybe you rely on the guest rooms and pull out couches of family members or friends. While some would argue that there are other things that matter more than where you stay, your lodging choice can make a big difference in how the trip goes, and we tend to have our own preferences. And so we read the reviews, hoping for reasonably priced places that will fit our list of wants. It can be a tedious process, whether you are researching the best place to park your family RV or finding the perfect beach front hotel with ocean views. In the end, we want to know what to expect, and hope to find the perfect fit for our needs to make a truly memorable trip.

In our gospel reading for this morning, Jesus is in the midst of what is known as his “Farewell Discourse” to his disciples, where he does far more than just telling them about a great trip he has planned with Mom and Dad to a cozy spot on the Sea of Galilee. The stakes of his journey are tremendous, and his explaining them to the disciples has caused understandable grief. In this passage, we hear Jesus offering words of comfort, reminders that his trip will not separate him from his disciples forever. Instead, quite the opposite will be true – they will be reunited with him. Naturally, the disciples want to know what it is going to be like, and how to get there. Thomas is the one who is bold enough to ask the question.

In response, we would expect Jesus to paint a clear picture. After all, throughout his ministry, particularly in the gospel of Matthew, he has described what the “kingdom of heaven” is like: a mustard seed, a great treasure, a generous landowner in the vineyard, a pearl. And yet, he doesn’t seem to spend much time on a list of amenities. It is as if he has already told the disciples what they need to know – it is his Father’s house, there is space for everyone, and he is preparing the way. Throughout the centuries, Christians have tried to paint a bigger, better picture of what this must mean; images of big pearly gates and a grand estate with golden roads. The Christian rock band Audio Adrenaline had a hit song in 1993, describing it as a “big, big house, with lots and lots of room, a big, big table, with lots and lots of food, a big, big yard, where we can play football!(i)” It’s natural for us to want to get a glimpse of what the Father’s house will look like, or at least to imagine some of the splendor that is to come. And, like we sometimes do with our vacation plans, we can get caught up in the lists of amenities and luxuries. We want to book our room, and secretly hope we’ll be upgraded to a penthouse suite. Our view of eternity is almost like we’re guests in God’s hotel.

When you’re a hotel guest, you view things as a customer. Things become a business transaction in which you give something to the hotel in exchange for services. If the services don’t meet your standards, you can call the front desk and complain to the manager in the hopes of some resolution. You are a consumer, free from the responsibilities you normally have at home. I remember arguing with my mother as a teenager while on vacation about whether or not it mattered if we made the bed, since someone would come and do it for us. To this day, my mom will more often than not make the bed, or at least smooth the covers back in place. Some people take this convenience to the extreme in the other direction and leave quite the mess; rock stars are stereotypically notorious for this. While I am sure that none of you would ever trash a hotel room, if we’re really honest, I imagine we don’t put too much thought into how it looks when we leave for the day, or even the trip. That’s normal for a hotel guest.

Jesus’ response to the disciples question makes it pretty clear that what he’s talking about is a bit more than a vacation reservation. He responds to Thomas not as a travel agent trying to sell the upgraded room, but as the Savior who knows what is truly at the heart of the matter. “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” Jesus says. In other words, “I’ve got you covered, Thomas. Trust me, friend, it’s going to be good.” Jesus knows that the reservation will be made by his death and resurrection, that grace will cover all the costs. He knows he’s doing much more than playing travel agent. What Jesus is offering isn’t a short term vacation opportunity, or even a fantastic deal on some eternal real estate. He’s not really selling anything at all. Rather, he is inviting his friends to come and live with him. They aren’t going to be paying customers; they are going to be houseguests.

Being someone’s houseguest is very different from renting a room. Our expectations aren’t the same when staying with friends and family. We generally don’t experience a daily turndown service, mints on our pillows, or tiny bottles of shampoo and lotion. Instead, we tend to focus more on the time we get to spend with our loved ones. Things feel a bit more like home as we fall into a shared rhythm and routine together over morning cups of coffee, rocking on the front porch, local adventures and shared reminiscing. Of course, our hosts will do things to make us as comfortable as possible. They’ve probably done some cleaning up to prepare for our arrival, and show us where we can find things around the house. They say “make yourself at home,” and show us where to find extra towels and late night snacks. They may even give us their wifi password. But chances are, during our stay we aren’t that focused on the amenities or luxuries of the accommodations. They are replaced by something far more important – relationships.

This is what Jesus is really talking about in this passage: relationships. Not just in the far off future of eternity, but in the very immediate reality of the present. He reminds the disciples that through him, they are already connected to God the father. They have begun an intimate relationship with the divine host. Through Christ, they have laughed with God, dined with God, walked with God. They have witnessed God’s incredible powers to heal and reach out into the world. They have truly experienced God, not as some future being to meet, but as someone who is a part of their lives even now.

Jesus’ farewell discourse is meant to encourage them to live more deeply into that relationship with God in the present. He summarizes what that means in this passage by identifying the role of good works, not as a way to get to God (that’s already been done through Christ), but as a response to God dwelling within each of them, and as a way to glorify God in this time and this place. Theologians call this “sanctification,” the ongoing process of living holy lives that remind us of God’s presence with us and seek to praise God in all that we say and in all that we do. Jesus reminds the disciples that these works give hints of the even greater works he will do in God’s name, and will be the glimpses of what is to come. The key to this kind of living? A focus on the relationships they have with God and one another.

Hearing this passage today, we are challenged to consider what our relationship with God is most like. Do we approach it as a hotel guest with a list of desired amenities and consumer mentality, or do we approach it like we are going to visit a dear friend or family member. Chances are the answer is truthfully a little bit of both. We trend toward the consumer approach sometimes. We remember to pray more when there is something we particularly want or need. We come to church looking for what we can “get” out of our time here, ready to be served and hoping not to be disappointed by a less than stellar sermon. We think about God when it is convenient for us, which might be less often than we’d like to admit, rather than make our spiritual lives a priority. And if we’re really honest with ourselves, we’re pretty quick to complain to the management when things aren’t the way we like them. This mentality isn’t all bad. Jesus even indicates that he will provide for us in verse 14 of our scripture passage. We trust in God’s power and grace to be able to do anything, even more than what we ask. And there is certainly nothing wrong with asking God to help us or others, or to expect that our time together as a community of faith will benefit us. It absolutely should. But that’s not where our relationship with God should end.

I think we have an innate desire as human beings to connect in meaningful ways, and it’s even seen in our travel trends. All over the world, people are opening their homes to guests through programs like “AirBNB.” In one commercial, the company is presented like this. A mother juggles a tote bag full of groceries and baby bottles, trying to get them to fit into a hotel room mini-fridge, as her husband notes that every time she moves one of the original overpriced snacks, “you know they’re going to charge us for that.” Then, the scene cuts to the same family entering a home, with a room for the kids to play, and large spacious fridge big enough for an assortment of items only Mary Poppins could produce from that same bag. The mom smiles and takes a deep breath.

This travel movement accomplishes a lot of things and meets a new set of needs for travelers, but also represents in us, I think, the desire to be more connected with each other and for our travels to feel more rooted in our own realities as we try to find places that “feel like home.” It shifts the focus of our trip to the relationships we have, and even opens the doors to some new relationships, depending on whether or not the owners of the house are around. Many who have enjoyed these types of accommodations have noted the joy of shared cups of coffee as cultures are exchanged. It can be fun to engage with the host.

In God’s house, we find the best kind of host. We are welcomed with warm and open arms as beloved children who have come home. We settle into the Father’s house and are reminded of past memories. We reminisce with God about good times and bad, laughing and crying together until the wee hours of the morning. We learn more about the place we are staying, and get insider tips that make our experience more authentic, rather than falling into tourist traps with cheap thrills. We are more inclined to lend a hand preparing dinner, and might just tidy the covers a bit and hang up our towels in the morning. When we approach our faith journey more like houseguests than customers, something shifts inside of us. We realize that our time with God involves giving of ourselves, to God and to each other so that we can all grow together as a family of faith. We sing out in worship, not worrying if our voices are a bit off key. We speak up in Bible study, not worrying if our ideas about Scripture are perfectly phrased or even completely correct. We volunteer in service, not worrying about being the most qualified, just wanting to help as best as we are able. As houseguests, we have the boldness to do these things because we trust we are in a safe place with our host, who will be with us every step of the way. As God’s houseguests, we can linger in this place without worrying about a check-out time. For with God, we are home.

The invitation to us has already been made some two thousand years ago, and will extend into eternity. But we don’t have to wait to accept it. We can live as God’s houseguests now, dwelling with Christ in us today. The Father’s house can be wherever we are; the light is always on for us to come and stay. As the Psalmist reminds us, this is a good and joyful place to be! You won’t find better amenities anywhere else than God’s grace and love. So come and stay a while, there’s a place prepared for you. Let us go to the house of the Lord! Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 16, 2017

[i] “Big House” by Audio Adrenaline, from their 1993 album “Don’t Censor Me”

Sunday’s Sermon – Anywhere But There – Jonah

July 9, 2017 Leave a Comment

One summer my family and I were vacationing in Panama City Beach, Florida. After a full day of fun in the sun, we came back inside, showered and got dressed for an evening out on the town. I was a teenager at the time, which would have made my youngest brother, Ben, around 6 or 7. He was tired and cranky, and resisted every step from the beach to the car. We parked the car near out favorite hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant, nestled in a strip mall. What followed became an iconic family moment for us. Ben stepped one foot out of the car, saw the lines of stores, stomped his foot and emphatically yelled, “WE’RE NOT GOING TO THE MALL!”, refusing to take one step further. The book of Jonah is a story of a similar temper tantrum.

Jonah is a unique book in many ways. First, it’s the only prophetic book that is not focused on the words OF a prophet, but rather is a story ABOUT a prophet. And while some other prophetic books, like Jeremiah, do give a glimpse of the prophet’s experience, this is one of our best insights into the inner workings of someone who is on a journey to follow where God calls him to lead. Jonah appears one other time in Scripture, speaking to the not so great king Jeroboam II in 2 Kings 14:23-25, promising him God’s favor. This almost passing reference hints that Jonah might not be the prime example of God’s messengers, though. If we read more, we learn that the prophet Amos appeared before Jeroboam II with almost the exact opposite message, saying God’s justice would be against the horrible king (see Amos 6:13-14)(i) . So something is a bit amiss about this prophet. And when you read these four chapters in the book of Jonah, you get a sense of why. One commentary categorizes the story of Jonah as the “subversive story of a rebellious prophet(ii).”

This summer, our reflections together have all revolved around different aspects of travel, but today’s text prompts us to think about those times when we don’t want to go anywhere. There is a clichéd list of places, of course, from the DMV to your in-laws to the dentist; places we dread going, try to avoid, or even throw a tantrum about being there, whether it’s external in a parking lot, or just inside of our heads. But there’s also a resistance, I think, that we sometimes have to those places, literal or metaphorical, where God is calling or leading us in our lives. The book of Jonah becomes a mirror to us that reflects some truths about the difficulties of following God. It’s hard work. Sure, it sounds good to say we are following God, as long as God’s will lines up with ours. But when God asks us do something that takes us out of our comfort zone or preferences, we don’t always want to do it.
Sometimes, we are also rebellious prophets, or at least wayward disciples, too. We run in the other direction entirely. “Sure, God, we’ll follow you . . . anywhere but there, that is.”

When we meet Jonah, he’s been given a simple instruction – go to Nineveh. Nineveh was the capital city of the Assyrian empire, and was known for being a place of sin and evil, the bitter enemy of the people of Israel. We don’t know why Jonah doesn’t want to go, but we can imagine any number of perfectly legitimate reasons: he was afraid for his own safety; he didn’t like the Ninehvites; or maybe he just saw them as a lost cause, not worth the breath of the words he was to say to them. So he gets up to the booking agent in Joppa and instead of going east, it’s as if he picks up a map and goes as far away as he can get in the other direction and puts his fingers on – Tarshish. I recall doing something similar as a high school senior, threatening to my parents that I was going to apply to go to college at the University of Alaska. When things get bad in the children’s book, the main character Alexander declares, “I think I’ll move to Australia(iii).” The truth is that some of us are so stubborn, or frustrated, or scared, that when the option comes to face difficulties head-on, we’d rather turn in the other direction instead. Jonah gets so comfortable in this decision and new path that he is even able to fall asleep in the cabin of the boat.

But God won’t leave us sleeping, continuing to ignore God’s call and pretend like it doesn’t exist. When God calls, God is persistent. For Jonah, God sends a wake-up call in the form of a storm, which rattles the pagan sailors to the point where even they believe in the divine. Then, when that isn’t quite enough and Jonah is tossed overboard, God sends a giant fish to swallow Jonah up and give him the most epic “time-out” of history. During this time, Jonah is able to reflect on what has happened and gain some insights that open him up to what God is actually trying to do in his life.

In the cartoon VeggieTales movie adaptation of this story made, this is where a gospel choir comes in, full chorus, singing that “our God is a God of second chances!(iv)” And while this is a viable and good message to take away from Jonah’s time in the belly of the fish, it’s a bit too small thinking. The reversal in chapter 2 comes in a time of prayer, but in that prayer Jonah doesn’t actually seem to confess, but profess the nature of God; namely a God who hears prayers and does not leave us in the pit. Jonah’s prayer points us to bigger realities at work in this larger-than-life story, particularly relating to God’s mercy. It reminds us that there is no place, not even the far ends of the earth, not even the completely opposite direction from where we are supposed to be traveling, that God cannot and will not go to embrace us with love and mercy.

Now, this is the part of the story that most of us know, and where many stories end. We mark this as the tale of “Jonah and the Whale,” and tie it up neatly with a bow. But it’s so much more than that, particularly if we read the entirety of the book – and we’re already halfway there. But before we move ahead, there’s one more thing we need to note about this unique prophetic book tucked into our Bibles; it’s not really a story that most students of scripture get caught up in arguments about whether or not it happen. Most believe that it’s not a factual, historical account, but rather was written for another purpose. The key to unlocking it, ironically enough, lies in the belly of the whale, our best modern understanding of the Hebrew description, dag gadol, which really means “great fish.” Jonah is a fish tale, indeed, written in an over-the-top, larger-than-life way where hyperbole and stock characters take center stage. Everything is big and exaggerated in order to clearly illustrate the point of the story, which takes almost a parable-like feel. For these reasons of language, the book on the whole is often classified as satire, meant to put unbelievable characters in extreme circumstances to convey big truths through humor and irony.

The first two chapters of Jonah aren’t just a story unto themselves; they are a set-up to what follows. God puts Jonah back on the beach, and repeats the instructions, “go to Nineveh.” And this time he does, but we might imagine him doing so with a “hurmph” or a “fine,” because he delivers his message in a pretty succinct and non-descriptive way. Five words in Hebrew. Clearly whatever was his struggle with going to Nineveh is still at work. He’s abandoned all of the typical prophetic structures. There is no mention of “the Word of the Lord” or a listing of the Ninehvites’ sins or what will happen in great detail. He doesn’t even mention God! Again, Jonah reaches unruly prophet status.

But even in spite of Jonah’s lackluster performance, the people of Nineveh repent. The ruthless king repents. Even the cows repent (remember how this is meant to be over the top and a little ridiculous?). And God spares the city from the calamity intended. This is a prophetic victory; you would think that Jonah would be thrilled, or doing victory laps around those who had changed their ways. But instead, Jonah pouts. He complains to God, making the argument that if this was going to happen, his trip had no purpose. He sarcastically says that he knew this was the character of God all along. It’s meant as an insult, offered as an excuse for why Jonah ran away in the first place. He cannot imagine a God whose mercy would be so big and wide that it could even include the people of Nineveh. This same Jonah who had received such wonderful mercy in the belly of the great fish, can now not seem to accept that mercy shown to others, much less extend it himself. The story shifts from Jonah’s protesting “I’ll go anywhere but there” to “Show mercy to anyone but them.” The rest of chapter 4, which I’ll leave as your homework assignment this week, gives another example as God tries to help Jonah see the ridiculousness of his anger – you might view his request to God to kill him as a melodramatic teenager who screams that her parents have ruined her life. The end of the book leaves Jonah sitting outside of the city, still pouting, still a cranky prophet who just can’t seem to get where God wants him to go.

The ending to the book is so open-ended that it points directly back to us, the readers. It begs us to consider what the Ninevehs are in our own lives. Where are those places that God is nudging us to go, but we are stubbornly resisting? Who are the people that we can’t imagine God loving, so we sit and pout instead? Can we handle a God whose love and grace and mercy is so deep and so wide? It’s a great thing to think about when we’re in prayerful contemplation in the belly of a fish, but when we really put it into practice it often contradicts many of our righteous sensibilities. The story of Jonah is one about how radically God pushes the limits of grace and mercy. Will we run in the other direction? Or maybe, we can learn from Jonah’s journey, and get out of those ships heading in the other direction, or bellies of great fish, or hillsides next to the city, and embrace the kind of radical love God is offering to each of us, and to the world. As Jonah reminds us, we have a God who is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing” (Jonah 4:2). Let’s not run from that.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 9, 2017

[i] For an excellent overview of the entire story of Jonah, including some of these critical textual notes, check out this video produced by The Bible Project: https://thebibleproject.com/explore/jonah/. Accessed 7/8/17.
[ii] “Jonah,” The Bible Project: https://thebibleproject.com/explore/jonah/. Accessed 7/8/17.
[iii] Judith Viorst, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. (Antheneum Books, 1987).
[iv]Jonah: A VeggieTales Movie, LionsGate, 2003.

Sunday’s Sermon – Front Seat Battles – Mark 9:33-37, 10:35-37, 41-15; James 3:3-18

July 2, 2017 Leave a Comment

I have two wonderful younger brothers, whom I love very much. These pictures are fairly reflective of our love for each other and the fun we have together. On the whole, we got along pretty well as a trio growing up. The glaring exception to this, though, is whenever we would get in a car to go somewhere. And I don’t mean because we complained on the trip; that was last week’s sermon. I mean literally going to get in the car. It started innocently enough. Mom or Dad would say it was time to go, one of us would call “Front Seat” (some of you know this as “calling shotgun”). That evolved into a rule between us that you had to actually be in view of the car before you could call it. But words didn’t last long. Claiming the front seat became a literal battle for who could physically get into the seat first. It wasn’t very pretty, and didn’t take long for our youngest brother, Ben, to become collateral damage as he tried to keep up with his older siblings. The last straw for my mother was the day Ben’s arm got caught in the car door as either Philip or I slammed it shut trying to cement our claim on the seat.

Today’s gospel texts are a little less violent, but show a similar wrestling among the disciples for who gets the front seat. In subtle, and then direct ways, we see the disciples angling for status, wondering who among them is the best or greatest. They had been following Jesus for a little while, and wanted to know where they stood, or sat.

Looking back, as an adult I can recognize that perhaps sitting in the front seat wasn’t the be all end all important thing in life, but for a girl with two younger brothers, I think it became so important because it reinforced my deeply held belief that as the oldest child I deserved certain privileges. It was a status symbol, giving not only the best view and most comfortable ride, but control of the air conditioner and radio selections. Who wouldn’t want that? For the disciples, sitting in that metaphorical front seat in the kingdom of heaven was certain to guarantee even greater, eternal privileges. This was more than just a quest to be the teacher’s pet; this quandry was how James, John, and the other disciples sought their very salvation, and they all wanted to be on top of that list.

But when Jesus asks the disciples what they’re talking about, the group falls silent. Often the disciples are portrayed as clueless, but in this case we hear the silence of those who know better than to admit to the subject matter. Harry Adams notes:

Many of us would fall silent if we were asked to explain how what we are doing and saying accords with the way of life that Jesus sets before us[i].

Surely the disciples had realized by now that Jesus was not in the business of perks and elite status even for his most devoted disciples. They surely knew he wasn’t going to defend the cultural norms or status quo. We know better, too. Countless other examples in Scripture call us to humility, and remind us that it doesn’t matter whether you’re first or last, all are welcome. Every seat in the car gets to the same destination.

But that doesn’t stop us from trying to get in the front seat. Wanting the best seat is an inclination we all have, not just as children, but as adults, too. We spend a lot of our time, sometimes subconsciously, worrying about our status, trying to get ahead or maneuver things so that we get the acclaim. We do this every time we navigate traffic, merging in and out of lanes based on which seems to be moving faster, or waiting until the last second to get over at our exit so we can skip ahead just a few more cars and save just a few more minutes. We do this if we’re flying Southwest, scrambling for the exit rows or aisle seats, even if we’re on the shorter side. It happens in more significant ways, too. Our careers can be driven by a desire to succeed and get ahead, whether it’s meeting a sales quota, getting a promotion, securing tenure, being the boss’s right hand man or woman, or becoming the boss ourselves. In the movie Talladega Nights, Ricky Bobby’s father comes to career day and shares the life lesson, “if you ain’t first, you’re last!” These words motivate the main character to pursue success no matter the casualties left behind, even if that means getting a little dirty in the process. Achievement and advancement are a big part of our experience of life. But we aren’t always that willing to admit it when they domination our intentions.

Jesus’ response to the disciples, in both instances, was not to admonish their general drive to be successful. Instead, his response invites them to refocus their energies in a different direction – from rivalry over status with each other to service for the world. Rather than leading lives which revolved around individual success and status, to lead lives that attended to the overall success of everyone, to be the servants “of all.” The word that is translated in this text as “servant” in Greek is diakonos, and

While that word came to refer to a person in ministry, in the Greek of Jesus’ and Mark’s day it meant someone who served meals. The person who was “servant of all” was the lowest in rank of all the servants – the one who would be allowed to eat only what was left after everyone else had eaten their fill[ii].

In a similar way, Jesus uses the illustration of welcoming a little child, a word in Greek which is closely related to servant. Children in the first century, even more so than today, were completely without any power or status or voice. All of Jesus’ response was characterized by telling the disciples to worry less about who was in the front seat and more about who was squished in the back or left by the side of the road.

There is a famous quote that goes something like this: “the true measure of any society can be found in how it treats its most vulnerable members[iii].” It has been dubiously attributed to a great number of historical figures, but I wonder if the roots of it aren’t from Jesus himself. By instructing his disciples to be servants to others and welcome children as ways they follow him, Jesus is establishing that being a Christian involves paying attention to those that many others ignore, or worse, harm on their way to the top.

Frankly, many of us sitting in this sanctuary today are often in the front seats of power and privilege in life, and with that comes a considerable responsibility. It’s our responsibility to attend to the needs of the other passengers. Yes, we get control over things like the air conditioner and radio, but perhaps with this we should also make sure that the rest of the people in the car are also having a comfortable ride. If someone in the back gets sick, it means giving them our place up front to minimize their pain. Being in the front seat, at its best, is being a servant to others, and looking out for everyone else, too. Sometimes the best way to do this is to change our perspective, which means giving up our seat so that others can have a turn.

My mom’s first solution to our front seat battles was to institute the simple concept of alternating who got to sit in the front seat. In this system, I quickly realized that some trips were longer than others and would “generously” gift my brothers with additional turns, so that they had two in a row, in order to manipulate it in such a way that it became my turn for those trips that were longer. It helps to be a little older and wiser than your siblings. But

I imagine that Jesus would take some issue with my creative approach to servanthood. Because you see, I really wasn’t trying to help my brothers out. I was in it for me, which isn’t much better than pulling and clawing my way into the seat.

The writer of James had a lot to say about the underlying motivations for our actions, too.

Throughout the book we hear careful instructions about the importance of integrating our theory and our practices. James is where the rubber meets the road for much of Jesus’ instructions. Just before our passage for today comes the frank statement that “faith without works is dead[iv].” In James, we find the argument not that faith saves us, but that if we claim to be people of faith, our actions need to match those words. This means that there is no room for us to act with selfish ambition or greed. And those actions that are manipulative of the truth with the sole motivation being our own personal gain? They might just be earthly, unspiritual, and wicked. And they will certainly lead to disorder. James doesn’t mince words here. He puts the instructions Jesus gives to the disciples under a magnifying glass and heats things up. He calls us to the wisdom given to us by Christ himself, and urges us to be “peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy[v].”

This way of living doesn’t leave much room for front seat battles or tricky behavior. Neither did my mom’s final system. She caught on to my scheme and responded with a system of “days” then “weeks” that rotated who got to sit in the front, suspended and renegotiated for special occasions like birthdays and family road trips. In doing so, some peace was made, most of the time at least, and my brothers and I began to work on similar patterns of sharing privileges with each other that required a little less orchestration from our parents, from what shows to watch on tv or games to play, or where to go out to eat. And I’m happy to report that on the whole, we are fairly well adjusted adults who no longer fight over the front seat if we are all going somewhere.

Maybe that’s what Jesus was going for with his disciples – a system of living that got away from time and energy spent on who got to sit in the front, and focused on the actual journey at hand. Can you imagine what it would be like if we as Christians stopped fighting over the front seat, and instead found ways to share our privilege and status? I think it might be the first step to our living peaceably, and it would certainly be a great way for us to follow Jesus’ teachings. It means subjecting ourselves to risks, to not being in complete control or power. When Jesus did it, sitting with sinners and tax collectors and caring for the vulnerable in his day, it led to his arrest and crucifixion. If we follow suit, the results may be the same for our social status or reputation. But it is this path of service, of caring, that leads to greatness in God’s eyes. So, where do you want to sit now?

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

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[i] Harry B. Adams, “Pastoral Perspective: Mark 9:30-37,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).
[ii] Sharon H. Ringe, “Exegetical Perspective: Mark 9:30-37,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).
[iii] Although many sources attribute this to Mahatma Gandhi, there is no clear documentation of this exact quote to him, and many suggest it is a mis-representation of a similar quote from Gandhi made in a speech in 2008 regarding cruelty to animals, where he is noted as saying, “the greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” Others who have been quoted as similar to this include Winston Churchill, Harry S. Truman, and Pope John Paul II. While the exact origins are unclear, the ethos and general sensibility seems to be a shared vision among many respected world leaders over time.
[iv] James 2:26, New Revised Standard Version: “For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead.”
[v] James 3:17, NRSV.

Sunday’s Sermon – Through the Waters – Exodus 14:5-8, 19-31; Luke 8:22-25

June 18, 2017 Leave a Comment

Now that summer is in full swing, we’ve entered the season in which every afternoon bears the potential for a thunderstorm. This week has been a perfect illustration of that. Some nights brought rumbling that shook the walls of our house. One night, the sky was filled with clouds and everything seemed to have an eerie yellow hue. Even driving in this morning, the sky alternated between grey looming clouds and sunny blue strips of sky. Summer storms can seem to come out of nowhere and stop just as quickly as they start. In fact, you can drive from your home to church and find drastically different weather patterns all in a matter of minutes. At this time of year especially, this storm pattern is common.

The same was true for the fishermen when they set out on the sea of Galilee. This body of water isn’t that big, and is surrounded by mountains and hillsides. A storm could sweep up out of nowhere and take a boat by surprise. And that’s exactly what happens in our gospel text for today, as the disciples and Jesus are transitioning from his teachings to a ministry marked by miracles. Out of nowhere, the wind and waves batter their ship to the point where they are in real danger. And where is Jesus? Sleeping peacefully in the midst of the chaos. Such an image can be a bit jarring to our faith. It’s not that Jesus was missing; the disciples were traveling with the Lord at their side. And yet, even when they were “going with God,” the going has gotten tough. The disciples wake him up with cries of sheer terror – we are perishing!

A common misnomer about the journey of faith is that if you are “right” with God, doing all the things that disciples are supposed to do, then you won’t have any problems or difficulties in your life. This is bad theology, and it’s not biblical, either. In both of our texts for today, God’s people experience real and present danger, all while being clearly on the road with God. So today we consider what it means to encounter storms along the way.

For the people of Israel, they are fleeing the tyrannical, oppressive rule of a Pharaoh who has abused his power and enslaved them in Egypt. Exodus 14 reveals the climax of the story; after plagues and signs, Pharaoh finally relents and grants the request Moses makes on God’s behalf to, “let me people go!” But the promise of release is seemingly short-lived, as Pharaoh changes his mind and pursues the refugees fleeing their captivity. The Israelites reach a literal dead end at the water’s edge. In the verses skipped this morning, they indicate how it seems pretty heartless of God to have led them this far, with hopes and expectations of the promised land, only to die at the hands of Pharaoh’s army. Rightly so, their cries become similar to the disciples on the boat: we are perishing!

Our experience falls in line. We live in a stressful, chaotic, and dare I say, stormy, world. We fight and bicker with those we love, and disagree with many that we meet. We struggle to make ends meet. Storms of addiction and depression, grief and illness threaten to overwhelm us. There are literal storms, too, that bring about destruction. On Wednesday morning, there was a significant earthquake in the northwest corner of Guatemala near the border with Mexico. Many are still rebuilding their lives across the Midwest and Gulf Coast in the wake of storms that are long absent from news cycles but very present realities for many. This week marked the one year anniversary of the deadliest shooting in U.S. history at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando in which 49 children of God were killed, and we woke up on Wednesday morning to the news that a gunman had opened fire on leaders and aides at a congressional baseball practice. One right after the other, sudden, dangerous storms break our hearts, and our spirits. “We are perishing” becomes our cry, too.

Has God fallen asleep like Jesus did on the boat? In the other gospels, the disciples accuse Jesus of not caring that they are perishing. This is a question of what scholars call “theodicy” – the exploration of what to make of a good, loving God, who allows bad things to happen and evil to seem to win. It is a question God’s people have been asking since the beginning of time, and continue to ask today. After the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, this question was at the top of everyone’s list. New York Times author Stephen Jay Gould wrote a poignant response just a few weeks after those devastating events, noting:

The patterns of human history mix decency and depravity in equal measure (1).

Given this, he writes, we often assume that this means that our society is balanced in this way, with equal numbers of decent and depraved people. But this isn’t actually true. Her suggests that in moments of crisis we have to reaffirm an essential truth too easily forgotten:

Good and kind people outnumber all others by thousands to one. The tragedy of human history lies in the enormous potential for destruction in rare acts of evil, not in the high frequency of evil people(3).

Gould calls this phenomenon the “Great Asymmetry,” and asserts that

Every spectacular incident of evil will be balanced by 10,000 acts of kindness, too often unnoted and invisible as the “ordinary” efforts of a vast majority(3).

He calls on all of us as a people to record and honor the weight of these kindnesses, so that our view of humanity, of ordinary human behavior, will not be distorted by the storms. We can’t get stuck in the storm. “We are perishing!” cannot be our final cry. We have to look and see Jesus on the boat. Then, we might remember some of the 10,000 acts of kindness and goodness that exist. In doing so, we might find a moment of calm or stillness, not unlike the wind and the waves on the Galiliee that day.

Former PCUSA Moderator and pastor Neal Presa writes “what can the church [or a preacher] possibly proclaim in the midst of tragedy, both while the storm is raging and after it has subsided(4)” that will make any sort of difference? If we are to have any hope, we must return to our biblical texts. When faced with peril, in both of the stories we read today we see evidence of God’s providential care. For the Israelites, God literally parts the waters; where there was once a dead end, God makes a way. For the disciples, Jesus rebukes the wind and waves and they subside; where there once was chaos, Christ brings peace. The message of scripture is this; when things in life get tough, God will bring us through the waters. That is what the church is called to proclaim.

This is the central claim we make in baptism. That we have been claimed by Christ in these sacred waters, and that God will deliver us from the ways of death and sin into new life. No storm can shake God’s love for us, whether it is something we experience at the hands of others or something we create ourselves. When we make these promises to an infant, we acknowledge that her life will be full of ups and downs. As a community of faith, we promise to walk alongside her and remind her of the faith which will make her strong. As she grows, we affirm that she is a beloved child of God, and celebrate the gifts that God has given her, encouraging her to share them with the world. When things get tough, we will be there with her as a reminder of God’s presence. We will tell her she is strong when kids on the playground make fun of her and tell her she can’t do something. We will tell her she is smart and can do it when she comes to youth group exhausted from hours of studying. We will pray with her and for her when she goes out on her own and tries to find her way in this world. And at the same time, we will navigate our own storms and the storms of this world. We will do it together, confident that God is walking with us. This is what it means to say yes to those questions we ask at baptism. That we will walk this path together, through the waters of life.

“Where is your faith?” Jesus asks the disciples after the storm is calmed. Rather than take this as a demeaning criticism of their belief system, perhaps we should view such a question as Jesus reminding them of where their strength will come from – their faith. With God’s help, our answer can be to look around us. This week at VBS, one of the central messages was that being a hero was not just something reserved for a select few – we are ALL God’s heroes, because God gives us all strength. With God, we have heart, courage, wisdom, hope, and power. These are the things we need to get us through the storms, and they have been given to us. Our real challenge is whether or not we will be able to find our strength in the faith God has given to us.

I don’t have a dog, but several friends with furry companions often note how terrified their animals are of thunderstorms. A few of them have discovered a fantastic solution; the thundershirt. It looks kind of like a sweater wrapped around the animal’s torso that provides constant, gentle pressure. In doing so, it relieves the anxiety felt in the face of a storm. The storm still happens, of course, but the dog or cat has an easier time getting through it. That’s what it’s like with faith. Our faith doesn’t make us immune from the storms in life any more than anyone else; but

anchored in faith, we can check the course that we have chosen, our responses along that course, and the decisions we have yet to make along the journey(5).

Our faith wraps around us with the assurance that God is with us, and helps us find the strength we need to move forward. When the storms come, and they will, “going with God” becomes the most important, because we trust that God will get us through those waters. May it be so. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

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1) Stephen Jay Gould, “A Time of Gifts,” The New York Times, September 26, 2001. https://mobile.nytimes.com/2001/09/26/opinion/a-time-of-gifts.html, accessed 6/15/2017.
2) Ibid.
3) Ibid.
4) Neal D. Presa, “Theological Perspective: Luke 8:22-25,” Feasting on the Gospels: Luke, Volume I, Chapters 1-11, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).
5) Ibid.

Sunday’s Sermon – Hit the Road! – Mark 6:6b-12; Genesis 12:1-9

June 11, 2017 Leave a Comment

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it . . .” began the instructions in Mission: Impossible. In an instant, the agent’s course was changed and a thrilling episode began, full of twists and turns, brimming with suspense. This summer, we are like that agent, hearing messages from God through some of the many stories in our Scripture that prompt us to take action and get moving. Just as God interrupted the everyday routine of Abraham, God speaks to us, taking us from our regular routines and giving us a new itinerary. The Holy Spirit is still on the move, and now God tells us – “Hit the Road!” For Abraham, these instructions came with a promise; that God would make Abraham and great nation, and that Abraham would both be blessed and would be a blessing to others. It’s a pretty good deal, and not surprising that Abraham and Sarah would take God up on it and begin to pack their bags.

After accepting the assignment, the agents in Mission: Impossible were always outfitted with the best of gadgets, from an auto-lockpick to appearance changing costumes to advanced cable systems that allowed entry into buildings that resembled fortresses. These tools helped them to evade the most ruthless bad guys, save innocent victims, and, of course, save the day. So, our first priority after accepting God’s invitation to travel might be to outfit ourselves with everything that we need.

In our gospel text for today, Jesus sends the disciples out on a mission to preach the good news to the world, and gives them a packing list. Well, sort of at least. Did you catch it? It comes in verses 8 and 9 – “He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics.” Not exactly what we might expect. In fact, it’s a lot more about what NOT to bring, which is actually all that is shared in the accounts in Matthew and Luke’s gospels (1). Given these instructions, the disciples wouldn’t even need a carry-on bag. I don’t think Jesus was just trying to save cargo room in the vehicle they were taking. I imagine, as Jesus tended to do, that this practical instruction also had theological implications, both for the apostles he was sending and for us today.

First, his instructions would have reminded them of their heritage as God’s covenant people. Jesus’ instructions are reminiscent of the Exodus story, when the Israelites were commanded to be ready with sandals on their feet and staff in hand (Exodus 12:11). “By taking nothing else on the journey, the apostles demonstrate their complete dependence upon God and the hospitality of others(2).” They become grounded in the rich story they were joining and the tradition they were called to continue. Rather than spending a lot of time inventorying their belongings and getting things ready, they would be more like Abraham, who heard God’s call to go, and gathered his family together to begin the trip. It’s that easy, right?

Maybe for some of us, it is. I’m not that lucky, though. You see, I love to travel, but I hate packing. Whether it’s for a few days spent with family or a week in the mountains at Montreat for a youth conference, getting ready to go is hard work. I spend way too much time doing it, ending up with all of my clothes on the bed in a mountain, trying to make sure there are enough options for any possible activity, and bargaining with how many pairs of shoes I can get away with putting in my suitcase. Once Nathan was born, this process got even more complicated. Babies seem to need so much stuff to go even the shortest distances: diapers, the pack-n-play, clothes, pacifiers, a few familiar toys, bottles, bibs – all simple things, but they quickly make another mountain to be packed. Now it’s a bit less daunting, but still takes additional time to pack for someone else and negotiate which toys make it into the car. It can take forever to get ready to go, trying to anticipate what we might need so we can be prepared for any situation we might encounter. Sometimes it takes longer to get ready to go than the trip itself, and makes us wonder if it’s worth all the hassle. We can even forget the reason we are going in the first place.

Maybe this is why Jesus’ packing list for the disciples is so simple – sandals and a staff. “These symbols are reminders that the apostle’s mission is an extension of Jesus’ own ministry(3),” and it is Jesus who will give them all the authority and power that they need, a subtle reference to the work of the Holy Spirit. He wanted them to remember their purpose. In other biblical texts(4), wearing sandals also connotes dignity, and carrying a staff (5) signals one’s authority. On a more basic level, what the apostles are told to take are also practical items that represent barest of necessities. Sandals protected one’s feet, and a staff could be used to fend off enemies, snakes, or wild animals. Joseph Bessler notes the importance of a humble wardrobe by comparing it to the wise desert fathers and mothers who imposed wisdom, saying that:

simplicity marks not only the figure of a sage, but a transparency of purpose. The Twelve come with open hands, neither offering wealth in exchange for receiving the good news nor asking for money. In announcing the kingdom of God, one must come with open hands, because the distinctiveness of the gospel must challenge the prevailing ways of appealing to self-interest and nativist impulses(6).

Jesus’ instruction to “pack light” suggests that perhaps it’s not the “stuff” the disciples had that would make the difference in this mission to spread the gospel. In fact, it might even get in the way of what they were trying to do. So better to keep it simple.

Have you ever gone on a trip and gotten so encumbered by all the stuff you were carrying that you missed out on the fun because you were so weighed down or your hands were full? This happens in our own lives as well, doesn’t it, as we pack so much into our schedules or into our heads that we can no longer think straight for all of the busy-ness of our lives. Even in this summer season, when we are supposed to be taking it a little easier, our lives can become overpacked as we try to do it all. I wonder what things would look like if we instead tried to pack a little lighter in our own lives and lose some of the “stuff.” Letting go of it might allow us to be more present with one another and with God. It can also help us to remember the central calling as disciples of Christ – the one that we share with Abraham and the disciples – the call to share the good news.

In order to really “Hit the Road” in our faith, we have to wrap our heads around our call, and recognize that what really matters, more than anything else, is the message we are sharing. Pastor Michael Lindvall says our job is:

simply to tell others about the God who has come to mean so much to us. This is an action performed out of love, not competition or anxiety. . . [We] need not have polished words, sophisticated theology, or fine-tuned dogma to speak of their faith. [We] are simply called to speak truth in love, from the heart, in [our] own words, and never be ashamed(7).

Has your life been impacted, in big or small ways, by Jesus Christ? If the answer is yes, then you are packed sufficiently to be Christ’s apostle, sharing how God has been present in your life with others. Don’t let your “stuff” get in the way of that holy calling. It really is that simple.

But sharing our stories with others can be intimidating, particularly when we have left behind those things that keep us comfortable and buffered from the world around us. Fortunately, though, our missions come in the context of community. Jesus sent his disciples into communities to form relationships in the midst of this light packing, confident that their needs would be taken care of. Additionally, he sent his disciples two-by-two. That’s right, Jesus was the original inventor of the buddy system. In teams, they could provide one another companionship, mutual protection, and moral support, and serve as reliable witnesses as they took on the mission that Jesus set before them. Today, Christ continues to call us to be in community with one another – families, friends, churches, and communities of all sorts seek to provide support and encouragement to one another. As a part of their examination by the session, each of our incoming officers shared a little about their faith journey and what they believed, and in doing so the spirits of all in the room were lifted a bit. I saw people smiling and nodding, connecting with each other’s stories. The more we share the stories of our faith, the easier it will become. You can even start practicing this morning. Find someone, maybe even the person sitting next to you in your pew, and share some of your faith story over a cup of lemonade and cookie after worship. Don’t worry about “getting it all right” or having a polished story that meets some lofty unrealistic set of expectations. Just keep it simple, and trust that God can and will do the rest.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it . . . is to Go with God into this world. It is an incredible mission to be a part of, this ministry Jesus has called us to join, and the challenge to us this morning is how will we begin? Will we try to load everything in, cramming our suitcases of faith so full that we have to sit on them to close, with things bursting out of the seams like the picture on the cover of our bulletin, or will we pack lightly, leaving space for Jesus to be at work through us? Mark 6 gives us a packing list – Genesis 12 gives us the call – are we ready to hit the road?

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

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1. See Matthew 10:9-10; Luke 9:3, 10:4
2. Vanthanh Nguyen, “Exegetical Perspective: Mark 6:6b-13,” Feasting on the Gospels: Mark, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, eds. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).
3. Ibid.
4. See Gen 14:23, Exodus 12:11, Luke 15:22
5. See Gen 38:18, Exodus 4:17, Micah 7:14
6. Joseph A. Bessler, “Theological Perspective: Mark 6:6b-13,” Feasting on the Gospels: Mark, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, eds. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).
7. Michael Lindvall, “Pastoral Perspective: Mark 6:1-13” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

Sunday’s Sermon – The Spirit Moves – Pentecost- Acts 2:1-21, Numbers 11:24-30

June 4, 2017 Leave a Comment

Congratulations! Today is your day. You’re off to Great Places! You’re off and away(i)!

These words the classic children’s book Oh the Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss. The whole book brims with the excitement of possibilities – the whole world is open to the reader – anything can happen! It speaks truth about all of this, too. There will be ups and downs in life, but it reassures its listeners that they can do it. It ends like this:

You’re off to great places! Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting. So . . . get on your way(ii)!

While this book is extra popular around this time of year, it’s also perfect for this day of Pentecost, which reads as the epitome of excitement on the brink of something new. We begin this new season in the church year with the whoosh of the Holy Spirit coming over those early believers gathered in Acts, and experience a whirlwind of language and energies throughout Jerusalem. In this moment, 50 days after Easter, the church is born; the prophet Joel’s prophecies are fulfilled and God’s people are alive and moving with visions, dreams, and the spirit with which to bring them into light. Pentecost ushers in a new life for believers, the church, and the world. All of which is possible because of the presence of the Holy Spirit, which lingers like fire among them.

To be clear, this isn’t a new phenomenon. We know that the Holy Spirit has been present throughout the Biblical narrative. We read about it in the very first moments of creation, brooding over the chaos and breathing life into the world. We hear echoes of it in Numbers, as it stirs and moves the seventy elders of Israel. The Holy Spirit announced Jesus as God’s son at his baptism, and was the promised Advocate by Christ himself. When the Holy Spirit shows up, things change in drastic and dynamic, life-giving ways. The Holy Spirit is God on the move.

This summer, we will spend the next two months looking at stories of God on the move, hopefully considering what it means for us to be on the move as well. The root of all of this movement is always the Holy Spirit, alive and present in our sacred stories and in our lives today. It is something we long and hunger for, to be renewed and energized in ways that can only come from God. When we feel tired or stuck in our lives, it is the Spirit who comes with fresh breath and new life. But we aren’t always ready for a moment like the one we read about today in Acts. Jana Childers writes:

Many Christians have become accustomed to thinking of the Holy Spirit as more of a Hawaiian breeze than a Chicago gale. . . . [but] the Holy Spirit’s power is not always subtle, fragile, or polite. Even today it can be electric, atomic, and volcanic(iii).

We tend to push against the more dramatic movement from the spirit. We’d rather keep it contained and manageable, limiting God’s work to happy coincidences, warm fuzzy moments, those things that give us good chills and goosebumps. We might even let in a few instances of things taking our breath away. But when the Spirit moves in bigger ways, we get nervous, or even skeptical. Joshua heard the Israelite leaders prophesying and begged Moses to make them stop. Those observing the scattered languages at Pentecost in Jerusalem assumed that this group of believers must have been drunk, even though it was only 9 in the morning. However, that’s often how the Holy Spirit shows up, isn’t it? God’s Spirit often takes the world by surprise and in doing so accomplishes some pretty incredible things; freedom for the Israelites and freedom for the church unleashed on the world.

A few weeks ago I was at a preaching conference in San Antonio with 1,800 other pastors(iv). The lectures and sermons were held at two different venues a few blocks apart. During one break between sessions, many of us spilled out of the Methodist church into the heart of downtown, down a half flight of steps that almost immediately became the corner of an intersection. Several tourists happened to be walking on the sidewalk as I came down the steps, and I heard one exclaim to the other, “Oh my, they let the church out.” The work of the Holy Spirit is done within the church so that when we leave, the world might have an audible gasp at what God has unleashed. The Holy Spirit is on the move – our texts for today ask whether we are as well.

Pentecost might be about making space for the Spirit to move. When I was in seminary I had the opportunity to serve as an assistant for our General Assembly, that every other year meeting of our denomination where delegates conduct the official business of our church. It was the year that Bruce Reyes-Chow was elected as moderator, significant because he was at the time just under 40, the youngest ever for us Presbyterians. As the debate on the main floor got heated, one Youth Advisory Delegate came to the microphone and asked if we could have a few moments of space for prayer and reflection, perhaps to let the “Holy Spirit move” among the group as they discerned. I remember Bruce taking the suggestion to heart, and commenting how it was hard to refuse someone the time for the Holy Spirit, much less a young person given his banner as the “youngest moderator” – so he agreed and paused debate. For two minutes. You see, as Presbyterians we have to keep things decent and in order. There are rules for debate and processes to keep meetings moving forward thanks to our friend Robert(v). So, in 2008, the Presbyterian Church, USA, allotted exactly two minutes for the Holy Spirit.

Of course, the Holy Spirit worked beyond those two minutes. Even if we tried, we couldn’t contain the Spirit. Nor would we want to. Taking time, even short moments, to intentionally allow ourselves the opportunity to focus on the Spirit’s presence will help us tremendously if we want to be a part of the movement of God in our world. But, more often than not, I think we pack our lives so full of other things that we remove the majority of spaces that the Spirit might have to work. This happens when our schedules are so full that we can’t squeeze another thing in, but we do so anyway. It happens when we push off those spiritual practices in our lives – worship, Bible Study, prayer – things we know will renew and sustain us, but just don’t fit into our too busy lives. It happens when we hear and see what God is trying to do, but refuse to be a part of it. It happens, but it doesn’t have to be our ongoing reality. This summer can be an opportunity for us, as individuals and as a church, to shift our habits in ways that are life-giving, and allow the Spirit to move more freely. Our new summer schedule is evidence of that, from the literal new space in our sanctuary for children to experience God’s presence in hands-on ways to the space left in our timing for fellowship after worship together. We need space for the Spirit to move. We have to give it more than two minutes.

The Holy Spirit, the breath of God, needs space within us to move. The image of Pentecost is that of fire, dwelling on each one gathered. As anyone who has ever built a campfire knows, it is essential to lay the logs in a particular way so that your fire will not collapse on itself, but instead will grow and glow brightly. Judy Brown describes this art in her poem titled, “Fire”, writing:

What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs,
a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logs
packed in too tight
can douse the flames
almost as surely
as a pail of water would.

So building fires
requires attention
to the space in between,
as much as to the wood.

When we are able to build
open spaces
in the same way
we have learned
to pile on the logs,
then we can come to see how
it is fuel, and absence of the fuel
together, that make the fire possible.

We only need to lay a log
lightly from time to time.
A fire
grows
simply because the space is there,
with openings
in which the flame
that knows just how it wants to burn
can find its way(vi)

For God’s presence to burn brightly in each of us, we have to be good tenders of the fire that the Holy Spirit puts within us. It is then that we begin to be the lights of the world that Jesus called us to be, shining for others to see. Speaking in every language under the sun, that all may know and understand the good news of God’s love for us and the world. That, after all, is the end goal of the Holy Spirit at both in Numbers and at Pentecost; no longer is God to be contained inside some small, isolated group of select people, but instead is set free to every corner of the world. “Oh my,” those passing by might say, “God let the Spirit out.” And that Spirit is on the move. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

————————————————
(i) Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You’ll Go!, (Random House, 1990).
(ii) Ibid.
(iii) Jana Childers, “Homiletical Perspective: Acts 2:1-21,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
(iv) Festival of Homiletics 2017 in San Antonio, Texas.
(v) Referencing our adherence to Robert’s Rules of Order.
(vi) Judy Brown, “Fire,” in Teaching with Fire: Poetry that Sustains the Courage to Teach, Sam M. Intrator & Megan Scribner, editors, (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2003).

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

Sunday’s Sermon – Houseguests – John 14:1-14

Sunday’s Sermon – Anywhere But There – Jonah

Sunday’s Sermon – Front Seat Battles – Mark 9:33-37, 10:35-37, 41-15; James 3:3-18

Sunday’s Sermon – Through the Waters – Exodus 14:5-8, 19-31; Luke 8:22-25

Sunday’s Sermon – Hit the Road! – Mark 6:6b-12; Genesis 12:1-9

Sunday’s Sermon – The Spirit Moves – Pentecost- Acts 2:1-21, Numbers 11:24-30

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