Heritage Presbyterian Church

Love Grows Here

Sunday’s Sermon – On Trial – Isaiah 1:1, 10-20

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“May it please the court.” Though not in every case, these words often begin courtroom proceedings. Throughout high school and college, they were part of a standard for the mock trial teams I was on as we addressed the fictitious courtroom in competitions. They established a rhythm and guided us into the argument. This morning, as we approach our text from Isaiah, it’s appropriate to parallel it with the patterns of our legal justice system, for the verses we find in this chapter are just that: a courtroom scene.

Isaiah 1:1 is essentially the “May it please the court.” It is the introduction that locates this prophet within a certain place and time. Namely, that this is a vision given to a particular person from Judah, the southern kingdom of God’s people, during the reign of particular kings, making the historical timeline around the 8th century B.C.E. From this we know a bit more about how to locate this text among the first hearers of its message:

The Assyrian campaign of 701 BCE has left Judah devastated. The nation is sick. From head to toe, the body does not have a single healthy, sound spot. . . Only Jerusalem is left, and that city’s condition is tenuous[i].

To these people of God comes Isaiah, whose name is a combination of the root words in Hebrew for God and salvation, and can roughly be translated to mean “God has saved” or “God will save.” From the start, we get a sense that his prophecy will include a recurring theme of God’s saving sovereignty over history and all the nations. And indeed it does. These parallels are why it is such a meaningful book in the Hebrew scriptures for us as Christians who believe that Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of the prophecies for the coming of the Messiah. What might seem just a cursory introduction verse for us actually tells us quite a bit about what we will hear next. The verses that follow are like the prosecutor’s opening statement, telling us what to look for in the evidence that will be presented. They illustrate the prophet’s passion for God’s message of salvation as well as God’s concern for justice, laying the groundwork for the beautiful and challenging poetry that will come.

With the stage set, the prophet launches into the brutal honesty of the facts. Verses 2-9, which are skipped in the lectionary, present some harsh evidence about what my study bible labels “the wickedness of Judah.” The charges are read, if you will. A courtroom parallel might be that these are pre-trial stipulations. That is, that both sides have agreed that a certain set of statements are true. In the case of God vs. the people of Judah, the picture looks pretty bleak from the start.

Verses 10-20 unleash God’s response. To get a sense of what he’s saying, hear again part of this passage as it’s relayed in Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase:

Quit your worship charades.
 I can’t stand your trivial religious games:
Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings—
 meetings, meetings, meetings—I can’t stand one more!
Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them!
 You’ve worn me out!
I’m sick of your religion, religion, religion,
 while you go right on sinning.
When you put on your next prayer-performance,
    I’ll be looking the other way.
No matter how long or loud or often you pray,
    I’ll not be listening

And do you know why? Because you’ve been tearing
    people to pieces, and your hands are bloody [ii].

Yikes. This is a tough message to swallow. This, in some ways, is the point. Isaiah presents a powerful and scathing message, meant to jar listeners to change their behaviors. And for those of us sitting in the sanctuary for worship this week, with no less than THREE committee meetings on our calendar of events, we might be shifting in our seats in a bit of uneasiness or even outright shock, wondering if we have parallels with the 8th century BCE after all. Those places of uneasiness, I think, are the Spirit that encourages us to examine and critique our own lives, so that we might grow to be more faithful.

As we consider this text in relation to our lives today, though, we might get hung up on one of the things that Isaiah identifies as being particularly problematic – the unworthy sacrifices being offered that God rejects. As Christians, we tend to not have a good understanding of their role in ancient Jewish practice, so Anna Case-Winters offers us a quick summary to catch up. She notes that:

There are different kinds of offerings. Some are understood purely as gifts to God. Peace offerings are meant to signal a reconciled relation with God. Other offerings are intended as expiation for breaches of ritual committed in ignorance. Forgiveness of other kinds of wrongs or wrongs done knowingly is never related to sacrifice, but is dependent upon repentance and confession. There is no understanding of divine forgiveness being “purchased” by sacrifice (propitiation)[iii].

In other words, the sacrifices and offerings that the people were making comprised a majority of the same components that we address with our acts of worship: our offering of praise and thanksgiving through hymns and affirmations of faith; our reflections on the Scripture, and yes, the admission of our shortfalls with confession. The issue here is not that the people of God have missed something they were supposed to be doing in order to receive God’s favor. God doesn’t work on a system of quid pro quo. Forgiveness is always the gracious act of God, even in the Hebrew scriptures.  However, it seems that God’s people have tried to make it this way.

The priests in Jerusalem had been highly successful in increasing religious display. They apparently taught the people that the more sacrifices they made, the greater the chance that their desires would be grated. The fatter the animal, the better the reward[iv].

The people of Judah have been attempting to manipulate God’s goodness and favor with sacrificial offerings, as if God could be bought or bribed. And when this becomes what happens, the sacrifices become less about God, and more about the self-centered people who offer them.

We hear similar messages in Psalm 50, and also in Amos, Hosea, and Micah. All push against the offering of sacrifices or other worship rituals done for show or simply done out of obligation. They insist that they are idle exercises unless true change happens within. Put quite simply, the prophetic witness tells God’s people, over and over again, that our faith is not just about going through the motions and doing all the right steps or saying the right things. It has to be about something more.

Isaiah is calling out the people of Judah’s hypocrisy. What he has observed is that even those claiming to be the most pious have gotten caught up in the pageantry and display of worship, or of going through the motions, and have lost sight of the relationship that their worship has to their lives and their hearts. What really is “on trial” here, then, is not so much the methodologies of sacrifice and worship practices, but the hearts of the worshipers themselves. Isaiah is not suggesting that we not worship. But rather, that we pay better attention to our lives outside of the sanctuary; because what happens in the world shouldn’t be separate from what happens in our worship. That separation is what is so offensive to the prophet and to God.

We can’t simply go through the motions and assume that everything will be magically right with the world. Our worship, in order to be pleasing to God, must be linked with the lives we live. When it isn’t, our faith is emptyhanded. In the wake of yet another round of mass shootings, there has been sharp critique for those who offer “thoughts and prayers” to those experiencing tragedy in El Paso and Dayton. Every time I hear someone blow off genuine expressions of sympathy I get pretty cranky. After all, as a Christian, I believe we are indeed called to pray for those who are struggling. Last week, I heartbreakingly read the names of countless cities who had been impacted by gun violence with multiple victims; a staggering list in just one week’s time, with 2 major stories in the 24 hours preceding our worship. In times of tragedy and fear and terrorism, sometimes the only thing we can think to do is pray. And that is a good and faithful response. But the thing is; prayer can’t just be the only thing we do. If we truly take Isaiah’s words to heart, we must consider that our prayers beckon us into real, tangible action in the world. Otherwise, they are offered up almost in vain and leave us emptyhanded with a hollow faith.

This text convicts the parts of us that try to separate our lives to the point that we end up with “Sunday morning selves” and “rest of the week selves.” Not good enough, says the prophet. If we want to truly worship and offer ourselves to God, we have to do the work outside of these walls, too. This is the work of the people of God. In our communion prayers we ask that we be living and holy sacrifices. That means we are committed to being a part of God’s work in the world, not just thinking or praying about God doing it. Fortunately, Isaiah gives a pretty good listing of ways in which we can marry the two. As The Message puts it:

Say no to wrong.
    Learn to do good.
Work for justice.
    Help the down-and-out.
Stand up for the homeless.
    Go to bat for the defenseless[v]

It is when we do these things that we live into the covenant God created with us.

When it comes to a trial, the general advice is that the attorney should always end by asking the judge or jury for the verdict they desire, so that is the final thought. In Isaiah 1, God’s final word is not one of condemnation, but one of grace.  “Come, let us argue it out,” God says, inviting us into reconciling conversation. The verb in this verse even:

comes from the language of the law court, and it refers to the kind of discourse that results in the disclosure of the truth[vi].

But rather than a dramatic trial in which God takes all of our offerings and shows how flimsy they really are, God offers words of promise and reconciliation. Nothing is beyond God’s redemption. In fact, God can and will transform everything into its pure state. Here, God shifts from prosecutor into arbiter, offering a path to forgiveness. God offers grace. It is not a cheap grace, but grace offered in the midst of our mess, from one who longs for us to be rehabilitated and restored once again.

This passage puts our lives, even and especially our spiritual lives “on trial” from start to finish. Isaiah deftly navigates the complexities of the lives of the people of Judah, and us today, with a beautiful poetry that weaves together a tight and concise case. The evidence is overwhelming; the offenses made clear. His words should prompt, then, a sharp examination of ourselves up against the vision God has for us as God’s own people, during which we likely discover the many ways in which we fall short and screw things up.  But then comes the final offer of proof and request not for a punishment, but for reconciliation and the opportunity to turn things around. God is not finished with God’s people yet. Would we dare to accept this as the verdict?

That is the question left to the people of Judah, and to us today. Knowing of God’s displeasure with some of our choices and simultaneous desire to be in relationship with us to right these wrongs into a new way of living, how will we respond?

~Sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, August 11, 2019

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[i] Gary W. Light, Isaiah, Interpretation Bible Studies, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001).
[ii] Eugene Peterson, The Message.
[iii] Anna Case-Winters, “Theological Perspective: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010)
[iv] Gary W. Light, Isaiah, Interpretation Bible Studies, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001).
[v] Eugene Peterson, The Message.
[vi] Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, J. Clinton McCann, James D. Newsome, “Proper 14” Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary based on the NRSV – Year C, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994)

Sunday’s Sermon – Called to Freedom – Galatians 5:1, 13-25

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Freedom is a word you are likely to hear a lot this week, especially on Thursday as we celebrate the 4th of July. In the midst of cookouts and fireworks, parades and pool parties, is the reminder of our country’s history. On this holiday we celebrate that we have the freedom to speak, think, worship, and act without hindrance or restraint. With freedom comes the hope and promise for everyone to have an equal opportunity for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That is certainly something worth celebrating. And worth contemplating a bit; specifically, to consider what exactly we mean when we talk about “freedom.”

In his State of the Union Address on January 6, 1941, then President Franklin Delano Roosevelt outlined a vision of four fundamental freedoms. He described them in this way:

The first is freedom of speech and expression—everywhere in the world.

The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way—everywhere in the world.

The third is freedom from want—which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants—everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear—which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor—anywhere in the world.

That is no vision of a distant millennium. It is a definite basis for a kind of world attainable in our own time and generation[i].

It’s a pretty good list, right? It offers more than just a dictionary definition of “freedom,” and instead a thoughtful expression of what freedom looks and feels like not just for individuals, but for a society as a whole. And yet, as good as this definition, and other philosophical and political ideations of freedom that both predated and followed this are, today I’d offer that one of the most compelling understandings of freedom comes in our biblical texts. Namely, in Paul’s letter to the Galatians.

The Galatians are arguing about the law, specifically the Mosaic law, and how it did or did not apply to their life together as followers of Christ. This was particularly important to figure out, as the community was a mixture of gentiles and Jews. Many practical and pressing questions arose, which Paul addresses throughout the letter. Perhaps the most notable was the question of circumcision for the gentile believers, which Paul replies to in a significant way in the verses immediately before our reading. Throughout the whole letter, it seems, Paul references the idea of freedom in Christ and the gift that it gives to the church to live out her faith. In Chapter 5, though, Paul offers an even more detailed description that serves as a powerful definition of freedom.

For Paul, freedom is less about freedom from something, and more about a call to or for something else. He is quick to point out that the freedom won for believers in Christ is not just license to do whatever we please, but rather is something that brings us together. Mark Douglas describes it like this:

The idea that freedom means the absence of encumbrances may be popular but it does not hold weight. Freedom is not the absence of entanglements; entanglements are the means by which freedom becomes meaningful . . . Freedom is not separation from relationships; it is a feature of relationships that becomes especially apparent as a result of our relationships with Jesus Christ[ii].

Put simply, freedom draws us into community.  Galatians 5 describes more of what that looks like. The call to freedom, according to Paul, and according to Christ is a call to love. The word for love Paul uses is agape. And it’s a tall order.

This kind of love goes far beyond what the law demands. It is an all-encompassing way of life, constantly seeking to serve the neighbor[iii].

It is pure and self-less, an embraces a universal, unconditional love that transcends and persists regardless of circumstance. Agape love is the highest form of love that reflects the love God showed to the world through Jesus.

I have little doubt that Paul chose this word quite intentionally. In the midst of bickering and power struggles in the church in Galatia, Paul needed to do more than just call on the people to say they were sorry and play nicely with one another. He could have used the word philia for that, representing “brotherly love” of getting along. Instead, Paul pulls no punches in calling them out for their behavior toward each other and reminding them of the exceedingly high calling they have to each other as Christians. He is pointing them, and us, to the biggest picture possible about what it means to not just live together in coexistence, but to truly embrace the freedom given to us to live together in a community marked by Christ, a reflection of the kindom of God.

Paul knew such love wasn’t easy, and that humanity is prone to use our freedom to dominate others in systems of oppression rather than in systems that hold each other in this kind of mutual holy love. He addresses the baseness of our selves with a discussion of “the flesh,” which for Paul was a way of defining the motivating factor for our actions or inactions. For Paul, living by the flesh was a self-centered living, in direct opposition to the God-centered living a life guided by the Spirit would bring. And it doesn’t seem like there is much middle ground. He pushed the Galatians to pick a direction, arguing you can’t be both for yourself first and for God first. It just doesn’t work that way.

Sounds a little like Jesus, doesn’t it? Paul goes on to a direct quote with the inclusion of what Jesus himself put as the greatest commandment, to “love your neighbor as yourself.” That, for Paul, answers the questions about legalities that were being raised in the community. The whole law summed up for Paul is that we have been freed to love one another. And that means setting aside our own ambitions, our own desires to be first, and instead serve one another (ahem, we might add to this – as Christ served us).

This is our calling. To freedom. To love. It came to the disciples and those who followed Jesus; it came to the Galatians and virtually every other church community to whom Paul wrote; and it comes to us, still as relevant as it was in the first century. Two thousand and some years later, we as God’s people are still trying to figure out what it means to live into this freedom of grace that we were given by Jesus Christ. Over and over again, we fall into those traps of the “flesh,” and work ourselves into systems that only serve to bolster ourselves while others are oppressed; we become obsessed with who is “in” and who is “out” and argue over the rules for inclusion in our communities. This, I think, is one of those examples of corporate sin, which we participate in on different levels as individuals, but seems to be a reality of our communal existence here on earth. There are so many things in our world, so many examples, where we have fallen woefully short of our calling to freedom.

One in six children in the United States suffers from real hunger, not sure where there next meal will come from[iv]. According to Feeding America, 523,000 of them are in Georgia, including 10,000 in Cherokee County[v]. Our three school food pantries that serve 8 local schools served 151 children in the month of May with backpacks of food to help sustain students over the weekend. This summer, MUST Ministries is planning on serving 6,500-7,000 lunches every day to children in need in six counties in our area. That’s what we will be a part of helping with this afternoon. I am so glad that we are a part of what I believe is truly live-saving and life-changing mission ministry. But at the same time, I am appalled that we live in a world, in a country, in a state, in a community, where so many people are lacking one of life’s most basic needs. We can do better.

And what about a place to live. A total of 552,830 people, were experiencing homelessness on a single night in 2018, just under 10,000 of whom were counted in Georgia[vi]. Over 36,000 of those in the national count were youth. The Trevor Project estimates that around 40% of that number, about 14,400, are LGBTQ+ youth who have experienced discrimination and family rejection and have nowhere to go. This, among other factors, makes them 60% more likely to attempt suicide. This week marked 50 years since Stonewall led to a unified struggle for LGBTQ rights and freedom from fear of hatred, and it is far from realized. We can do better.

On that same night of counting, 37,878 of those experiencing homelessness were veterans[vii], a number slightly lower than the 40,000 estimated by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). That’s 11% of the homeless population, and the National Coalition for Homeless Veterans reports that within that group, 50% have serious mental health issues, including PTSD, 70% struggle with substance abuse, 51% have some sort of disability, and 50% are under the age of 50[viii]. Even with the good work of the VA and other organizations, those who have served our country, who have given their lives so that we can continue to claim “freedom,” are underserved and unappreciated on even the most basic level. We can do better.

Our southern border reflects an international humanitarian crisis. I have heard heartbreaking and gut-wrenching stories through organizations in Guatemala that reflect horrors no one should have to endure. From these, it is not difficult to see why families might be forced to flee for their very lives. I cannot even begin to imagine how desperate my life circumstances would have to be in order to risk everything for the hope of sheer survival, not just my own life, but that of my children. And yet, that is what is happening. And when this wave of asylum seekers comes pleading for assistance, we are ill-equipped and unable to handle such a cry from our neighbors. At least six children have died in federal custody[ix]. And the stories of the conditions in which they are living are reprehensible. My heart absolutely breaks at the thought of children being taken from their parents, and young children left to fend for themselves in large rooms with only aluminum foil-like blankets and concrete floors and constant light that prevents sleeping. In my house, either Matt or I tell a certain 5-year-old boy to either “brush his teeth” or “wash your hands . . . with soap” about 2 dozen times at minimum every day. Now, each time I do I have a knot in my stomach, because there are not only no parents to offer this reminder; there are no toothbrushes or soap. I appreciate that many things related to this are political, and we can agree or disagree on legalities and regulations and responses within our criminal justice system about how to approach immigration. But I also hope that we can agree that children, who have no more say in where they are taken than my own did this morning, should be kept safe and healthy. We can do better.

We have to do better.

If Paul were writing to us today, I think he could deliver much of the same message as he did to the Galatians, and to the church today he might say, “you were called to freedom for so much more than this! You were given freedom as a gift from God in order that you might love as Christ loved. So get with the program. You call yourselves Christians? Then live like it. Let love lead you. This is what it’s all about. Love your neighbor as yourself.”

In verse 25, Paul encourages us to both live and be guided by the Spirit. In these instances where the world is so far from where it should be, the Spirit stirs within us. It is the Spirit that nudges us, that creates in us an uneasiness and a hunger for justice that we cannot ignore. The Holy Spirit, that one let loose on the world at Pentecost, is a holy troublemaker that shakes everything up and makes it so that we cannot just continue with life as we know it. Us “decently and in order” Presbyterians will be glad to know that living by the Spirit isn’t code for some sort of loosey-goosey, anything goes kind of approach. The verb stoichomen has military connotations of standing in formation or marching in line. In other words, “since the Spirit leads us, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”

How do we keep step? Perhaps we could use the famous “fruits of the spirit” list Paul includes as a check-list of sorts for what happens when we live into freedom. In our discernment of what we are supposed to do next, what would happen if we asked ourselves: is this a response of love? Joy? Peace? Patience? Kindness? Generosity? Faithfulness? Gentleness? Self-control? I don’t know about you, but I imagine if I ran through this list every time I was trying to respond to a difficult situation or a difficult person, I might save myself from some less than stellar decisions, and my relationships with others would probably be a lot more loving.

Above all else, we as Christians are called to love, an agape love that models the kind of love God has for us. It is the basic fabric not just of our society, but of our understanding of what it means to follow Christ. The extent to which we live into this calling is in itself the measure of our discipleship. So, may we be so faithful and bold as to try to live into it each and every day. May we love our neighbors, and do nothing from selfish ambition, but instead mark our lives with love. For this is the freedom we have been given in Christ. This is what we are called to do. Amen.

 

Sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

Heritage Presbyterian Church

June 30, 2019

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[i] Franklin Delano Roosevelt, “January 6, 1941, State of the Union (Four Freedoms),” https://millercenter.org/the-presidency/presidential-speeches/january-6-1941-state-union-four-freedoms, accessed 6/29/19. (both audio and written transcript available).

[ii] Mark Douglas, “Theological Perspective:Galatians 5:1, 13-25,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3,  David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[iii] Elisabeth Johnson, “Commentary on Galatians 5:1, 13-25,” Working Preacher https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=612, accessed 6/27/19.

[iv] https://www.feedingamerica.org/hunger-in-america/child-hunger-facts

[v] https://patch.com/georgia/woodstock/thousands-cherokee-county-don-t-have-enough-eat

[vi] https://endhomelessness.org/homelessness-in-america/homelessness-statistics/state-of-homelessness-report/

[vii] https://endhomelessness.org/homelessness-in-america/homelessness-statistics/state-of-homelessness-report/

[viii] http://nchv.org/index.php/news/media/background_and_statistics/

[ix] https://www.latimes.com/nation/la-na-migrant-child-border-deaths-20190524-story.html

Sunday’s Sermon – Love Letters – 1 Corinthians 13:1-13

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Reading this passage on the first Sunday of February kind of feels like the Revised Common Lectionary folks cut a deal with Hallmark, doesn’t it? Stores right now are covered in reminders that Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. The only thing holding them back is the Super Bowl displays, which by tomorrow will give way to even more gigantic stuffed animals, heart shaped boxes of chocolate and other things coated in pinks and reds and glitter.

But you know those little conversation hearts? Like the ones on the front of our bulletin? They’ll be a bit harder to find this year. The most popular Sweethearts brand won’t be on the shelves.  Necco, the company that produced them, went out of business last year. The brand was purchased in September by the Spangler Candy Company, most known for making Dum Dum lollipops, but that didn’t give them enough time to produce them for this year[iii]. You’ll have to wait for 2020, or substitute another brand. I’ll admit those little chalky candy hearts aren’t my favorite, but it was always fun to try to make a conversation out of them, or see what conversations they might spark.

In place of the candy, perhaps we can let Paul’s words to the Corinthians spark our conversations about love this year instead. For some examples, see the front of your bulletin or the image on the screen. Paul writes these letters to this early church community in Corinth to get them thinking, and talking, about love. However:

Paul inserts this passage in his letter not to offer a pious reflection on the way things should be, but rather to call the Corinthians to account for their behavior. Everything he says love is not, they are; everything he says love is, they are not[iv].

In this text, Paul gives them a mirror to examine themselves. He even uses it as an illustration, a way to call them to attention to the fact that their understanding is no clearer than that reflection in what was likely a polished bronze mirror of the day. Even looking into a modern mirror, we only see ourselves in reverse, never quiet the same as the perception of others[v]. The people in Corinth had not only a love problem, but a perception of love problem. They were unable to see themselves or each other with the same love that they should have as children of God, brought together into divine community united by Christ.

“They just need to know that you love them.” This was the advice a colleague once gave me years ago in the beginning of my time in ministry when I was struggling to see eye to eye with some other leaders I was working with. The advice cut me and I remember reeling. I cared about these people, and valued their contributions to our community. In fact, it was because I cared about them that I was struggling so much. We didn’t agree on some pretty major things, and I was desperately trying to understand their point of view. So I asked a lot of questions, and pressed their answers to get more clarity. I tried to lay out my perspective the best way I knew how: by talking about it. In retrospect, I realize that what was really happening was that my ways of showing that I cared were not being understood as caring at all. In fact, quite the opposite. And my colleague, while well-intentioned, had a very different view of what love looked like in this setting because of their own preferred forms of expressing it. We drove each other a little nuts sometimes because of this.

Have you heard about this theory before? In the 1990s, Baptist Pastor Gary Chapman wrote a book outlining Five Love Languages that has been on the best-seller list ever since. His premise is that there are five ways we express love, and that while each is enjoyed to some degree by all people, each of us has a primary and then secondary way of expressing love, as well as a primary and secondary way we would like to receive expressions of love (and he notes that our styles of giving and receiving may not be the same).  I’m going to give you a quick summary of each of them, and invite you to consider which might be your preferred ways of giving, and then receiving, love.

First, quality time. This is giving someone your undivided attention and enjoying shared experiences. It doesn’t matter what activity you are doing, but that the two of you have time together. It means you put down your phones and silence other distractions to allow yourselves to be fully present in the moment.

Second, words of affirmation. Compliments can make someone’s day, whether they are about what someone is doing, how someone looks, or who that person is. Words can come in so many forms, too: conversations, text messages and e-mails, cards, even song.

Third, physical touch. This refers to any kind of physical expression of affection, from handshakes to passionate embrace. You know how some people are “huggers?” Or others naturally reach out to offer a hand on the shoulder when you’re going through a tough time, or who can give your hand an extra squeeze? That may be their expression of love.

Fourth, gifts. Perhaps the most universally understood expression of love, because it’s something we can touch and hold. We literally unwrap these. The price point isn’t what’s important; it truly is the thought that counts, as an item is carefully selected with the recipient in mind.

Fifth, acts of service. For some, actions speak louder than words. Love is shown by doing something, specifically something that brings others happiness. From holding open a door to doing the laundry each week, love in this language is hands-on and actively demonstrated.

It makes sense, I think. Chapman’s original book focused on marriage relationships, encouraging couples to better understand each other by paying attention to these love languages, which in turn could strengthen their unions. With an understanding of love languages, one might learn that his partner really values a carefully selected card for major holidays with words of affirmation for her to receive, for example. But since the original book, other spin-offs have spoken to relationships between parents and children or teens, peer relationships at school, and even interactions with coworkers. Because love languages, much like the passage from 1 Corinthians, aren’t really relegated to just a romantic relationship. They really can be applied to virtually every kind of relationship we find ourselves in.

Even in the church. I wonder if Paul’s letter to the Corinthians in some ways was his attempts to give them “love languages” to use with each other. What if this passage prompted us, as the church of Jesus Christ in 2019, to consider how we might be giving and receiving love not just in our relationships with significant others, or even in our families and friends and workplaces, but also in our own church community? As those who worship in a church with “love grows here” on the side of one of our buildings, it might be worth a few thoughts. And perhaps those activities that we engage in most excitedly are actually reflections of the ways in which we speak love to each other, and to God, as we live out our faith together. Let’s see.

Quality time. There are a lot of things you could be doing right now instead of being here. A lot. You probably just thought of at least 3. And this is true virtually any time we gather as a church. Our lives are busy, and demands on our time are high. And yet, you chose to be here. We choose to spend time in community. Fellowship Events – there is lunch next Sunday after worship, the Hebrews Coffee area, our lovely lunch groups – ROMEOs and JULIETs who are each meeting for lunch THIS WEEK, and other opportunities show this kind of love. It is about the times we are together not because of a committee agenda or programmed experience of faith, but just to gather in God’s name. Informally this happens when we linger a few moments after worship, or find a time to invite someone to lunch. Our youth will do it today after worship as they do the first Sunday of every month.

Words of affirmation. Have you paid someone a compliment today? Said “Thank You”? Our caring connections team works to send cards and affirmations out year-round. Our prayer chain reminds us to lift each other’s lives to God. We do this in worship through prayers as well, along with songs of praise, and our affirmation of faith.  In a few weeks we will present the Watwood Window of Service Award, a way we affirm with words and honors those who have given so much to our community. This love is shown every time we celebrate with each other or encourage each other, speaking love and life to build each other up.

Gifts. In worship this one is obvious, as we pass the plates to collect the offering. But there are other tangible gifts in our midst as well. Our liturgist holds a basket of lollipops for young and young at heart after worship. We give visitors loaves of homemade bread as a welcome. This past week Nathan has joyfully assembled and painted a wooden truck that he was given as an attendance reward from Praise Kids. Baskets collect donations for the clothing closet and food pantry, an entire gym fills with Christmas presents for children, and sometimes we even get surprise gifts of supplies in the office, like reams of paper that show up just when we were starting to run low and needed to order more.

Physical Touch. Think about the ways we greet each other during the passing of the peace, or holding hands in prayer. Last week one of our elementary children reached out for the hand of a little one to guide him to where he needed to go. Our sacraments are physical reminders of God’s grace. We touch the waters of baptism and today will eat and drink the bread and cup in communion with Christ. When we ordain officers or pastors, we practice the laying on of hands, and physical touch becomes a reminder of love as well as the power of the Holy Spirit.

Last but not least, Acts of Service. In fact, this one could probably be a sermon in and of itself. Our congregational life is marked by volunteerism. Any attempt to list them all would fall short. And, mindful of the verses before ours today about the body of Christ in 1 Corinthians 12, and Pauls’ repeated reminders that all spiritual gifts are important, I’m going to leave this one to you, and suffice to say that the work that is done here and in Christ’s name in the community by this congregation is remarkable, and that without you – each of you – giving of your time and talents we would not be the church that we are.

Friends, that is a lot of love. It is the bedrock of what it means to be the church. That’s why Paul was so passionate about it, and spent these verses reminding the Corinthians about what love was meant to be.

The love described in 1 Corinthians 13 is a love we experience as God’s unshakable grasp upon our lives. It is the source of our greatest security and, thus, our freedom to actually be patient and kind, to bear all things and not insist on our own way

. . .

For Paul, our capacity to flourish as human beings is realized to the extent that we can live in the love of God revealed in the cross of Jesus Christ[vi].

At our best, our church communities can help us do just that. With faith as our foundation, and Christ as the head, we can dare to live into a glimpse of the love that God has given us. Paul gives the church the framework of what this love looks like, and then asks if we have the courage to live into it. That, indeed, is worth conversation. Amen.

 

~sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, February 3, 2019

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[i] Lewis F. Galloway, “Pastoral Perspective: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[ii] Jeffrey D. Jones, “Homiletical Perspective: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[iii] https://www.cnbc.com/2019/01/23/americas-favorite-valentines-day-candy-is-unavailable-this-year.html

[iv] Jeffrey D. Jones, “Homiletical Perspective: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[v] Christopher R. Hutson, “Exegetical Perspective: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[vi] Jerry Irish, “Theological Perspective: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 2, 2018

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

Sunday’s Sermon – Caretakers of Creation – 1 John 3:16-24

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Being in love can make us do some pretty unusual and outright crazy things. Remember when Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah’s couch? Perhaps you have a “friend” with an impulsive tattoo. Affection for another changes our brain chemistry, and alters the way we interact in some ways. It doesn’t always have to be extreme, necessarily. It could be as simple as picking up a favorite candy bar or flowers, just because you saw them and thought of that special someone, or taking on that extra task around the house because you know they hate to do it, even though truthfully you do as well. That’s love. It’s not restricted to a significant other, of course. Parents are known for actions towards their children that clearly are only done out of love, whether it’s putting out a hand for their toddler’s half-chewed food, or sitting through eighteen intermediate piano students playing “The Entertainer” at a concert. We also extend such loving courtesies to friends. How many times have you ever done someone a favor and replied “you know I’m only doing this because I love you, right?” In a variety of ways, it is clear that one way we show love is through our actions.

That is the heart of today’s message from 1 John. In this letter, the writer essentially interprets the gospel of John for a new generation. Throughout this general letter, patterns of recurring themes emerge. He fleshes out a bit more about what Jesus meant by that commandment to “love one another,” and “serve each other” in ways that were directly relatable to those reading his words. He is a wise veteran Christian leader, who: continues to help the young believers and their struggling churches to deal with the challenges of their new faith[i].

Although his context is not immediately clear, his interpretation of the relevance of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection is to the point.

I love how Eugene Peterson paraphrases the central idea of the text in verse 18:

My dear children, let’s not just talk about love; let’s practice real love. This is the only way we’ll know we’re living truly, living in God’s reality[ii].

The writer of 1 John knows that love is revealed in one’s actions, and love always starts with God. The origin of this, of course, is in remembering the love with which God sent Jesus Christ into the world, and the love of Christ’s action of laying down his life for us. There is no greater love than this. The actions of God reveal to us God’s love. Jesus Christ, in the flesh, is evidence of God’s love in the world.

The pairing for this text in the lectionary is from John’s gospel, which alongside other texts for the day, is what gives this fourth Sunday of Easter the nickname “Good Shepherd Sunday.” On this day, we are called to think about the role Christ played as Shepherd, and God plays as caretaker in our lives. Specifically, we are invited to note the way the shepherd sets aside selfish ambition and personal interests for the needs of the sheep – sacrifice. This framework offers a perfect backdrop for the instructions in 1 John, because it sets up the foundation of serving and caring for others as the basis for our lives, if we truly wish to be ones who consider ourselves followers of the Good Shepherd.

The love of God through Jesus Christ should inspire us. That’s the writer’s point. It’s a pretty simple and straightforward understanding of discipleship: because God loves us, we are called to love one another. On the whole, I think we are good with articulating this vision of what it means to be Christian, particularly inside these walls on a Sunday morning. We can even become quite good about talking about God’s love for us, and how we should love our neighbors. Of course, it’s not quite as easy to live out as it is to say. The grit of everyday puts countless opportunities in front of us to love people, not in some theoretical, abstract way, but in the right in front of you, staring you in the face kind of way. And more often than not, what stares you in the face is exactly what gets on your last nerve, or what you don’t have time for that day. This is where the rubber meets the road in our faith, and our text reminds us of our calling. Or, to put it another way, as author and pastor A. W. Tozer said:

we cannot pray in love and live in hate and still think we are worshipping God.

Instead we are called to love. And it starts with what is right in front of us. So while this may seem like a passage that doesn’t exactly break any revolutionary news to us about what it means to follow Christ, it probably is one we need to hear repeatedly in order for it to really sink in. Going further, he reminds us that the presence of such loving actions is how we know that we are truly following God and living in God’s kingdom here and now.

One example of this is through Santa’s Caravan, who will welcome the Georgia Boy Choir here this afternoon at 4 pm for an incredible benefit concert followed by dinner. It’s more than just a time to enjoy world-class music. It is supporting a ministry that lives out what 1 John is talking about. The roots of this program came from a wonderful volunteer working in our food pantry looking in the eyes of brothers and sisters in need, realizing that for some children, right in our adjacent neighborhoods, Christmas would not be bringing the same kind of joy that so many others had. Now, years later, we still look eye to eye with our brothers and sisters in need, and Santa’s Caravan is one way we live out the love in action of the gospel, providing gifts and food yes, but also providing connection and hope, acknowledgement and support. There is no doubt in my mind, having experienced only two of these incredible seasons so far, that God’s Spirit is present in this work.

There are many other examples, of course, of what it looks like to care for those around us. But today I want to offer one more that might take us on a slightly different course, yet still within the realm of I think where the passage leads. As you might have noted on your calendars, today is also Earth Day, a now worldwide tradition spanning back 48 years. According to EarthDay.org, the idea of this day came from then U.S. Senator Gaylord Nelson of Wisconsin, after witnessing the ravages of a massive oil spill in Santa Barbara, California in 1969. He tapped into the emerging public consciousness about air and water pollution and brought environmental protection onto the national political agenda, by encouraging Congress to pursue a “national teach-in” on the environment. What resulted was about 20 million Americans demonstrating on April 22, 1970, realizing that although their specific passions were different, from oil spills to polluting factories to loss of wilderness and extinction of wildlife, they shared common values – they wanted to be caretakers of creation. Today, it is estimated that over 1 billion people in 192 countries[iii].

If we are called, as God’s created and loved beings, to care for one another, not just in words, but also in action, doesn’t it make sense that some of that responsibility applies to how we treat all of what God has created, from our fellow humankind to animals to the earth itself? It follows, from 1 John and John 10, that being “caretakers of creation” is meant to be an all-encompassing idea. After all, by caring for the world in which we live, we are working to make a better world for our brothers and sisters now, and those who will come in the future. We are not called to be self-serving consumers, grabbing all we can get. Instead, we are called to take what we have, particularly our material resources, and share them with others – or at least protect them so more can use it.

Creation care is another way, then, that we live out God’s instructions to love. It can be as simple as seeing a piece of trash and picking it up, or following the classic “reduce, reuse, recycle.” It can look like considering own usage of plastic products, which have been identified as one of the most dangerous threats to both nature and wildlife. Presbyterians have been doing this for years. In fact, since 1995 we even have an organization within our denomination expressly for this purpose: Presbyterians for Earth Care. Their purpose is:

Connecting members through a grassroots network of people seeking to keep the sacred at the center of earth care, advocacy and action both inside and outside the walls of the church.
Equipping members with resources, ideas and information for a shared journey toward a healthier planet by growing and sharing theological understandings and perspectives on eco-justice issues.
Inspiring members through stories of individuals and groups who have responded to the sacred call to care for the earth – stories told person to person at events, and by newsletter, email, social media and devotions[iv].

Their work helps us pay attention to our call to be caretakers of creation, whether it’s making our physical buildings more eco-friendly or advocating for better responses to climate change. Here at Heritage, we are a part of similar work. Kevin’s Garden provides opportunities for our community to care for the land we have been given and provide food for others: it is a movement towards justice in that way. Our worship committee chose the Palms we did this year for Palm Sunday from a company called “Eco-Palms,” who in addition to providing a fair wage for their laborers, commits to harvesting practices that are more ecologically sustainable[v]. It is a small way we can live into the calling we have from 1 John 4 to use our means to act in love for God’s people, and God’s creation. Being caretakes of creation connects us to one another. Our PCUSA Co-Moderator, Rev. Tawnya Denise Anderson, reported on Facebook yesterday that during the Ecumenical Advocacy Days in Washington D.C., a pastor from Flint, Michigan, Rev. Monica Villarreal, shared in a workshop that she can’t even baptize with the water that comes out of her church’s tap. As brothers and sisters in faith, we cannot hear that news and simply respond with our “thoughts and prayers.” We have to put our love in active response. The opportunities will always be right in front of us.

Friends, we are called to pay attention, to see the needs of the world around us, in every sense of the word, and respond in love-filled action. In this, we become caretakers of creation, following the Good Shepherd who continues to lead us in acts of compassion and justice, who put everything on the line for us, that we might have a freedom to love as radically as possible. So may God’s love for you through Christ give you that freedom and courage to act, for the sake of the gospel. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
April 22, 2018

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[i] William I. Self, “Homiletical Perspective:1 John 3:16-24,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Eugene H. Peterson, The Message Remix (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2006).
[iii] https://www.earthday.org/about/the-history-of-earth-day/
[iv] http://presbyearthcare.org/
[v] For more about eco-palms, go to https://www.presbyterianmission.org/ministries/compassion-peace-justice/hunger/enough/eco-palms-2/

Sunday’s Sermon – Extravagant Faith – John 12:1-8

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This is, in my estimation, one of the best times of the year, especially if you are a college basketball fan. The only thing better than a great game? Four games at once, especially if an upset is involved. More is better. Is your team is up by 10? Don’t just sit back and coast through the second half. You cheer for them to keep going and make it 20, a more impressive victory to strike fear in your next opponent. Beyond basketball, this quest for “more” seems to be a part of our culture. Value is placed on getting the “mores” in our lives: purchasing a vehicle that gets more gas mileage, having one more item to add to our collection, being more successful than our coworker, taking one more day of vacation, getting more “likes” on a post. Whatever good we receive, it seems that we always want more.

Our text from John’s gospel presents us with a slightly different understanding of what living with a “more” mentality might mean as a disciple of Christ. In the spirit of thanksgiving, Martha and Mary give a dinner for Jesus and his disciples, in celebration for the incredible miracle that has just happened as Jesus raised their brother Lazarus from the dead. It must have been an overwhelming moment for this family. How could they possibly thank Jesus for such a gift? There must be something “more” they could do.

Mary comes forward with a gift – a pound of costly perfume – and liberally pours it on Jesus’ feet. This is a moment of abundance, rich with symbolism. It was not just a few drops, but a considerable amount of fragrance. In fact, it is one of the few times in the New Testament where smell is even mentioned, and it is a significant reversal. As Frances Taylor Gench describes it:

a fragrant smell and grateful love now fill a house that had once been filled with mourning and the smell of death’s decay[i].

There is more to this story than just a fragrance. This is a moment that foreshadows the events that will come. The only other time the evangelist John uses the words “dinner” or the “wiping” in his gospel happen in John 13 during the meal Jesus shares with his disciples in the Upper Room[ii]. Mary’s action, then, parallels Jesus’ washing the feet of his disciples in an incredible act of servitude and love. This moment also foreshadows Christ’s death, and the anointing with oil and spices that would have followed.

William Carver says “nothing begins a conversation like an extravagant gift[iii].” Mary sparks quite the conversation. After her act of devotion, Judas jumps in, essentially asking “is there a thing as too much?” That is the question at the heart of our quest for “more” in life, isn’t it? We are pushing the limits of our capacities. For some things, we would argue that no, there is never too much – for example, I could argue that there is no such thing as too many Girl Scout Cookies, or too many pairs of shoes. For other things, though, like salaries for star athletes or the amount of sugary cereal a child pours into a bowl, we may find ourselves saying “that’s too much.” When we fall into the latter mentality, we tend to label things as “extravagant”: over the top, not necessary. This is the voice of Judas, who immediately responds to Mary’s gift with skepticism, offering the practical view of things, even if of dubious genuine care for the poor.

Although clearly he has missed the symbolism, I think he does raise a valid point. There is a tension between extravagance and our quest for more. At some point, we have to say enough is enough. Set some boundaries, and be content with what we have. This is true in our lives and even within the church, as we contemplate new ideas and make decisions about how we live. We can’t say yes to everything, even the good and worthwhile endeavors; we’d all be exhausted and would end up with activities going 24/7. Instead, we pray about and talk about what God is calling us to do right now. It’s about deciding when to say yes, and when to say no. We call this process discernment. And part of this discernment involves using our resources wisely, so as not to be wasteful with what we are given. In some ways, this is what Judas points to in his commentary on Mary’s action. He reminds all who are present of just how extravagant this moment is – perfume worth three hundred denarii, nearly a years’ wages for a laborer. There is a cost to extravagance, and it is steep. Judas is, in essence, asking those gathered if it is worth it. Clearly he thinks it is not.

Jesus responds with a differing opinion. He justifies the cost, speaking up for Mary and instructing Judas to “leave her alone,” revealing the fast-approaching reality of his death.  In this moment, Jesus again praises Mary for her faithful devotion.

In Mary, then, the reader is given a picture of the fullness of the life of discipleship. Her act shows forth the love that will be the hallmark of discipleship in John and the recognition of Jesus’ identity that is the decisive mark of Christian life[iv].

The faith that Mary models, to Judas, the disciples, her family, and even to us, is a faith marked by extravagance. It is a faith that always seeks “more.”

In contrast to Mary, I think many times faith is a part of our lives that often gets shortchanged in our quest for “more.” We want more sleep, so we hit the snooze button on a Sunday morning. We want more time for our hobbies, so we put off reading our Bibles for another day when we “have more time.” We want more money to get the latest gadget or take that vacation, so we adjust our giving just a bit. In short, we let our need for “more” become the priority over our faith. We spend more time worrying about the challenges and issues in our lives, more time trying to figure out our relationships and schedules, more energy and resources on material things, and, because something has to give, less time on our relationship with God.

Instead of letting our faith take a backseat, perhaps we should reframe our understanding of “more,” and, like Mary, seek to live with extravagant faith. Such a faith may seem ridiculous to others, wasteful even. But we rest assured that our Savior encourages us to continue even in the face of adversity, for we have a Savior who believes in extravagance, over-the-top actions. That, of course, is one of the messages of the cross, the overabundance of love that God had for the world.

Of all the things that Mary’s gift represents, particularly to fulfill the gospel writer’s theological connecting points in the greater narrative, I think the most compelling is that Mary’s extravagant gift was one of love. In this, she models the most important aspect of our lives of faith: love. Love is what overwhelms Mary. Love is what prompts her to do something more. Her actions convey what cannot be spelled out in words or even in thought, they are only ones that can be demonstrated through an act of the heart. This story invites us to consider what our love for God might inspire us to do.

Having faith that is extravagant means being willing to truly love God with all that we have: minds, bodies, and heart. It means making the first “more” in our lives our relationship with God. Going above and beyond into something deeper still, and trusting that there is always something more to be learned, more to experienced, about the one who first loved us. This “more” is not about a transaction or monetary value. And it’s not about how many events we attend, or committees on which we serve. Extravagant faith is about how we live into these faith practices, and more importantly, about how God works through them to bring us restoration beyond anything we can imagine. Extravagant faith is about giving God all that we have, not just settling for the bare minimum.  When we are overwhelmed by our love for God, we are apt to do wild and radical things, the kind of things that truly label us as Christ’s disciples.

It was love that inspired St. Patrick to return to Ireland. It was love that inspired volunteers to spend a Saturday afternoon loading groceries into cars yesterday. It is love that leads us to speak out where there is injustice – to stand up to the bullies of the world and proclaim that all deserve to be treated with love and respect. It is love that helps remind us to spend a few extra minutes checking in with someone we know is having a tough time. God’s love leads us to extravagant faith.

Some moments of extravagant faith, much like the perfume Mary poured, might seem temporary or fleeting. After all:

lots of extravagant gifts are put into the air, where they soon evaporate. A church choir labors to prepare an intricate anthem, and three minutes later it is gone. The teacher prepares the lesson, stands to deliver, and then class is adjourned. Mourners provide large arrangements of flowers to honor those whom they grieve. Saints donate large sums of money for their congregations to spend. Why do they do this? Love has its reasons[v].

But perhaps these aren’t as short-lived as we might think, for once we break open the jars of extravagant faith, “the fragrance of love’s actions is carried on the wind to places we never see[vi].”Acts of love and extravagant faith have the potential to grow into more, as generosity inspires generosity. Imagine how extravagantly-filled our lives could be if we all lived with a little more love, a little more faith. That is the hope of the Psalmist, and the encouragement of Jesus. To live a little more, for with God, the possibilities are endless. No act of faith is too small, and no act of faith is too large, when inspired by our love for God.

So let go a bit, of whatever holds you back from giving all that you have, all that you are, from God. Let God’s love wash over you and carry you to something new. Seek to be “more” of a disciple, and prepare for the overwhelming fragrance that comes when we live with a faith that is extravagant, worshiping a God whose grace and love is indeed always “more” than we could ever dream.  Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
March 18, 2018

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[i]Frances Taylor Gench, Encounters with Jesus: Studies in the Gospel of John. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007), 95.
[ii]Gail R. O’Day, “John 11:55-12:11,” The New Interpreter’s Bible: Volume IX: Luke John (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995).
[iii]William G. Carter, “John 12:1-8, Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 140.
[iv]O’Day, 703.
[v]Carter, 142.
[vi]H. Stephen Shoemaker, “John 12:1-8, Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 143.

Sunday’s Sermon – Snakes in the Wilderness – Numbers 21:4-9; John 3:14-21

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What are you most afraid of? Depending on the context and your frame of mind, the answer may vary. One poll from about ten years ago now indicates that 36 percent of all adults in the United States listed the same number one fear – snakes[i]. The clinical term for this is Ophidiophobia, which affects around 49 percent of women and 22 percent of men. It’s a fear that has been highlighted by movies like Snakes on a Plane, whose very premise makes my skin crawl a bit. And, of course, the character Indiana Jones is notorious for his fear and dislike of snakes, which seem to slip into many a scene in the classic trilogy. And while some of you might not be particularly wary of these cold-blooded creatures, my guess is few of us want to meet them in unexpected ways.

Because of this response, our scripture text from Numbers reads almost like another chapter in a story of suspense. The setting is the dry, hot desert, years into the Israelite’s journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. This story is the end of a series of “murmuring stories” where God’s people wonder if God is really leading them at all. They are tired and cranky, and become impatient about their destination. Their journey has seemed to cause them nothing but trouble, with one thing after another that makes things difficult. The deeper they get into the wilderness, it seems, the more romanticized memory they have of their lives as slaves in Egypt. Since chapter 11 they have longed for the “good ole days” when they at least had food to eat, like cucumbers, fish, melons, leeks, onions and garlic (see Numbers 11:4-6). Not mentioned, of course, was the oppressive rule and the demands for increased hard physical labor of building bricks and other abuse they endured as slaves (see Ex. 5:10-14). Instead, the focus becomes on the sparse supplies and jeopardy they seem to be in traveling across the desert. As one commentary notes:

Characteristically, in this unhappy situation, reinforced by the romanticized memory of how good it used to be, they quarreled, accused God of infidelity, and accused Moses of poor, failed leadership. (That is what people do when the economy fails)[ii].

The scene is set. Times are hard. The people are on edge. They are at odds with one another and with their leaders. You can imagine the soundtrack’s creeping music in the background, alerting us it’s about to get even worse. Cue the snakes.

If I were watching this film, I would want to fast forward past this part to get through the scary stuff. Or at the very least, I would cover my eyes and ask the brave person next to me to let me know when the bad parts were over. I’m guessing I’m not alone. Whether it’s snakes or some other fear, our tendency is to grit our teeth, hold on to the armrests, and make it through as quickly as possible, hopefully emerging on the other side without too many scratches on us. Perhaps this is how the Hebrews started their journey, in those harrowing moments as they passed through the waters of the Red Sea. But eventually that adrenaline wears out, and as they discovered, God was not always a safe and comfortable companion in the wilderness. In the midst of their journey, things literally jumped up and bit them.

Unfortunately, this is a fairly true reflection of real life. Hardship and difficulty sometimes spring up when we least expect it. Consider Kate Bowler, professor at Duke Divinity School, who recently published a book Everything Happens for a Reason, and Other Lies I’ve Loved. The book is a memoir about her journey as a 35 year old who appeared to have everything going for her – a thriving career, married to her high school sweetheart with a newborn son – all jarred by an unexpected diagnosis of stage IV colon cancer. In the midst of wrestling with her own mortality, she goes to Texas to hear an inspirational speaker during Lent, who confessed she didn’t like to deal with the heavy stuff, and was afraid of death and would rather not you talk about it either. Bowler, upset by this, said to a friend, “Everyone is trying to Easter the crap out of my Lent.” PCUSA Co-Moderator Jan Edmiston reflected on this quote from Bowler in a recent blog post. She reminds us that:

Lent reminds us that there is a world of suffering out there.  . . . This is the season when we remember that death is part of life and we are called to notice it.  We are called to face it.  We are called to let the reality of death re-prioritize our lives[iii].

 

That is why we begin this season with ashes on our foreheads, hearing the line from Genesis “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Our text from Numbers returns us to this aspect of our Lenten journey. It reminds us that we live in a world that is dangerous and often unpredictable. It gives us permission to not just rush into resurrection, but name the “snakes” in our own wildernesses. The things that strike fear in us. The things that are like poison to our bodies and our relationships. The Hebrew word to describe the snakes is often translated as “poisonous,” but literally means “fiery” or “burning.” The story asks us to consider the things that seem to bite us and leave a sting.

Jan Edmiston offers us some suggestions, reminding us that with these snakes comes a healthy “shaking-my-fist-like-the-Psalmist” anger tied to lament. She writes:

I am angry that my friends’ child is tortured by cancer.  I am angry that 18-year-olds in Florida can buy assault weapons and shoot other teenagers with them.  I am angry that the world has forgotten Syria.  I am angry that there is still no power in every corner of Puerto Rico[iv].

What might we add to this list? Perhaps the opioid epidemic across our country that strikes close to home here in Georgia. The CDC released a report this past Tuesday that indicated in just one year, overdoses from opioids have jumped by about 30 percent[v]. Or we might think about the accidental shooting during dismissal at Huffman High School in Birmingham, Alabama on Wednesday afternoon that killed a 17-year-old young woman. Or perhaps Thursday’s commemoration of the “International Women’s Day” would prompt us to consider the places of inequality that still exist in our world and the disproportionate violence committed against women. Whether globally, nationally, locally, or personally, we are surrounded by snakes. Naming them, though, is just the start. Jan Edmiston challenges us to do more than just lament; in Lent especially, she says, we are called to ask:

How are we offering ourselves to stand with those who suffer?[vi]

Our time in the wilderness is meant to remind us that our lives are more than just about us. And if we look around and discover that those with us on the journey have been bitten, we might want to try to do something about it; something more than just lament.

Looking back to the Israelites, we discover that, despite their complaining and perhaps doubts, they turn to God. They bring the brokenness of their experience, including the snakes, and beg for them to be removed. And God responds with an act of solidarity.
“It is notable that God does not remove the snakes, but provides a means for healing in the midst of danger. God brings healing precisely where the sting is the worst.”[vii].

God instructs Moses to take the poisonous serpent, the ones who have caused the people such pain, and set it on a pole that people might be healed. Elizabeth Webb suggests that this passage tells us a lot about the character of God:

Even in our worst failures and disappointments, God provides. God offers healing for our wounds, relationship for our loneliness, and faithfulness for our faithlessness. God doesn’t remove the sources of our suffering, but God makes the journey with us, providing what we most deeply need, if we but look in the right direction.[viii]

The staff of Moses provides the Israelites with a direction to look. Although we learn in later history it becomes an idol for them that must be destroyed during the temple reform of King Hezekiah (see 2 Kings 18:4), it is meant to be more of a sign and seal of God’s transforming power over anything, even death. Like our sacrament of communion, it could have been a reminder to the people to “lift up their hearts to the Lord,” to the one who was their salvation. In Jordan there is a metal sculpture, the one pictured on your bulletin cover, meant to represent this pole intertwined with a serpent, placed at Mt. Nebo, the final destination for Moses, who was able to look over the Promised Land, but not enter it. The Florentine artist, Giovanni Fantoni, intentionally crafted the design to also connect to the reference to this story in John’s gospel, with the upper arms of the staff extending horizontally, almost like the cross.

Like the staff, the cross proclaims God’s solidarity with a suffering world. To hear those familiar words from John’s gospel in tandem with this referenced text in Numbers enriches its meaning. It reminds us that God loved this world, this messed up, full of snakes, suffering world with all of its sin and pain. That it was to this wilderness of a world that God sent Jesus Christ, that we might lift our eyes and see love. And indeed, our Lord even spent time in the literal wilderness. 40 days in fact. Which means that even if we are in the midst of a pit of snakes, or worse, find ourselves bitten, we know that we do not have to travel this desert road alone. For we travel with one who has been lifted up and who indeed overcomes all evil with good. That, in the midst of the wilderness, is good news. Especially when snakes are involved. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
March 11, 2018

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[i]Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homiletical Perspective: Numbers 21:4-9,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008). In reference to a recent Harris poll on “What We Are Afraid Of”.
[ii] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Fourth Sunday in Lent,” Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary based on the NRSV – Year B. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993).
[iii] Jan Edmiston, “Don’t Easter My Lent,” blog post dated February 22, 2018, https://achurchforstarvingartists.wordpress.com/2018/02/22/dont-easter-my-lent/, accessed 3/8/2018.
[iv] Jan Ediston.
[v] Rob Stein, “Jump In Overdoses Shows Opioid Epidemic Has Worsened”, National Public Radio, All Things Considered, march 6, 2018, https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2018/03/06/590923149/jump-in-overdoses-shows-opioid-epidemic-has-worsened, accessed 3/8/2018.
[vi] Jan Edmiston.
[vii] Elizabeth Webb, “Commentary on Numbers 21:4-9,” Working Preacher, March 18, 2012, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1225, accessed 3/8/2018.
[viii] Elizabeth Webb.

Ash Wednesday Sermon – God’s Return Policy – Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

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One of the realities of living in a consumer-driven culture such as ours is that inevitably at some point, we end up purchasing something and then realizing, for whatever reason, that we need to return it. From unwanted or duplicate gifts to things that don’t fit to products that are defective, life leads us to the customer service area and the return line. And, as long as you’re not in too much of a hurry, it’s a pretty good system. One of the keys to a successful trip, and to not holding up the line, is to know something about the store’s return policy. Receipts can be a saving grace, but if you’ve lost that little strip of paper, stores can now look up your purchase if you used a credit card.  Without some record, you might be stuck with the lowest retail price from the past 90 days, the opportunity for an exchange, or simply store credit. Reading the fine print, a store’s return policy gets quickly complicated. If you’ve made your purchase online, you add another layer of complexity, even if they have retail stores nearby. Sometimes the long lines and hassle can make you wonder if it’s even worth it to make the return, or if you should just cut your losses and keep what you have.

Our experience with returns might help us as we begin the season of Lent. This is a time when we’re called to closely examine our lives and seek to be more faithful followers of Christ. In doing so, we are likely to find aspects of our lives that need to be changed or eliminated entirely – exchanged or return, if you will. Consider it standing in line for God’s customer service – a 40 day line (not including Sundays) where you think more about what it is that you are carrying, and prepare to lighten the load at the counter. To make this analogy work, we have to understand God’s return policy. To do so, we turn to Scripture.

The prophets have a lot to say about returns. In fact, it’s one of their most popular words of instruction to the Israelites. “In Hebrew, this verb means ‘to arrive again at the initial point of departure.’ Here it suggests that one had been originally with God, had moved away from God, and was not returning to God[i].” Return is an about face, a change in direction, and a reorientation to the world. It is a word of hope and a word of covenant, trusting that returning to God will bring about restoration for God’s people. Joel follows this understanding of return, calling God’s people to it in the text we read tonight. Throughout this short book, he suggests that Jerusalem has forgotten who God is, and calls upon God’s people to rediscover the identity of the one true God. Verse 13 reminds God’s people of the true divine nature. This description is ancient – going all the way back to promise of God to Moses in Exodus 34 after the people had created a golden calf. It is the perfect, concise example of God’s return policy: that God is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.” All of our questions about returning to God rest on this truth.

Joel speaks of return in the context of imminent disaster, perhaps a natural one with a plague of locusts. The beginning of our reading tonight indicates something looming on the horizon, which Joel attributes to calamity brought about by “the day of the Lord.” Something big is going to happen. One commentary refers to this text as “an alarm bell in the darkness of the night[ii].” Joel’s language would immediately register with the Israelites in Judah; it is a call to attention and to action. Given this policy, we are called to get our items, and ourselves, in order quickly. Don’t just leave your returns on the kitchen counter or lost in your trunk, a procrastinated item from the errands list. Pay attention to them and get it done. This is the work of return. This is the work of Lent. Lent is about letting go of those things that get in the way of our relationship with God and with others. It is about sorting through all the “stuff” that we have in our lives and make decisions about what should stay and what should go. This is why some people “give up” things for the season, and others take on new practices or focus on things in a new way.

But more than just “giving something up” for a season, I think our passage tonight asks what do you have to return to God? Those things in your life that you would like to change, but need help to make it happen. Those things that just aren’t working for you to grow in the ways you know God is calling you to. Those things you wish you hadn’t bought into and would like to give up. Those things that you simply have too much of and don’t really need. Take inventory over these next 40 days, and don’t be afraid to bring them to God for return. There’s no limit on what God will take back. In fact, God invites us to bring it all – even the things we are too embarrassed to talk about. God is always ready and waiting, open 24 hours a day if you will, to hear us.

Sometimes, the return process includes naming why we are returning or exchanging a particular item. Some of the options include: didn’t fit (too big or too small), wasn’t what was expected, changed my mind, the product was defective, and so on. This naming is important for us to do in Lent. It helps us do more than just identify our sins – it calls us to understand where they came from in order to make the changes needed to hopefully avoid repeating them in the future. It enables God to work with us and make us into new creations. It’s God’s exchange process at work, a process that utimately isn’t dependent on anything we have done or can do, but reminds us that we are solely reliant on God’s love and grace. In the midst of what is very difficult and sobering work, this is good news. God not only takes back our returns, no matter what – God works in us to make us right with God once again. Returning to God, as Joel outlines in verse 13, is more than just a transactional return; this is a process of transformation.

Lent calls us to read the fine print God’s return policy. It allows us to test it out, carefully and thoughtfully. We do so confident in who God is. And if the words of prophets like Joel aren’t strong enough to convince us, there is one more guarantee in place. In the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God’s grace was revealed to the whole world. In Christ, the promises of God from the very beginning were sealed forever. In life and in death, we belong to God. This is what we gather to remind ourselves of tonight, receiving crosses on our foreheads to indicate whose we are, symbolized in ashes to remind us of our own mortality and our utter dependence on God for all things. We get in line, not only to confess our sins and humble ourselves, as covering in ashes symbolized in the days of the prophets, but also to return ourselves to the one who created us from nothing, and loves us through anything.

The return line begins here, tonight. Bring what you have, who you are this evening, and know that you can continue to return what you need to over this season of Lent and beyond. There is no return too big or too small. There is no return that God will not accept. For God already knows everything we could possibly bring, and has chosen to love us anyway. So come, Return to the Lord. Trust that God is gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and always ready for your return. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
Ash Wednesday, February 14, 2018

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[i] Dianne Bergant, “Joel 2:1-2, 12-17, Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary based on the NRSV, Year C. Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, J. Clinton McCann, Jr., James D. Newsome, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994)

Sunday’s Sermon – Comfort, Comfort – Isaiah 40:1-11; 2 Peter 3:8-15a

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If it is raining outside, then it is highly likely we are having spaghetti for dinner. It’s an unintentional tradition that started in my family when I was growing up, but I just can’t help continuing it. For me, it seems that the solution to a rainy, dreary day is a comforting plate of pasta. Comfort foods are not a novel concept, of course. They tend to have a nostalgic factor or sentimental value to us, and are often characterized by a high calorie count, lots of carbs, or easy prep. Whether it’s fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, or warm chocolate fudge brownies, most of us tend to have those “go-to” favorites after a long day. Of course, in the South, we are known for these comfort delicacies. They are so deeply engrained in us that we may not even notice. For example, it took me a while to realize that my first response when a friend or my husband has had a bad day was to offer them something to eat. In southern culture, if someone is having a tough time, you show up with a casserole, right? It didn’t dawn on me that they weren’t necessarily hungry.

Food, of course, is among the many things that can bring us comfort. As children we have comfort objects – special blankets or stuffed animals. As adults we graduate a bit sometimes to a favorite pillow. Mister Rogers would change his shoes and sweater when he got home as a sign of settling into a comfortable place. The list of what brings us comfort can get quite lengthy.

“Comfort, comfort” are the words from Isaiah. This is a familiar text, and many of us hear it in musical form thanks to Handel’s Messiah. It strikes in us those same warm fuzzy feelings as our other ways of comforting ourselves. We hear it in the context of the holiday season, eagerly anticipating the cries of “Hallelujah!” that will come in just two weeks with the birth of Christ. However, these words are meant to convey a far greater understanding of comfort than a favorite meal or fuzzy robe and slippers. If we aren’t careful, we will gloss over them as lovely Christmas card sentiments and platitudes, and lose the rich context in which they were originally spoken. These are meant to be words of restoration and hope to the people of Israel. To capture the depth of their meaning, we need to hear them aware of the context in which they were originally shared.

Most scholars agree that the lengthy 66 chapters of Isaiah are actually a compilation of several writers, given their structure and literary profiles and thematic approaches. Chapter 40 begins what is known as “Second Isaiah,” or Deutero-Isaiah, believed to have been written around the start of the sixth century. Extending through chapter 55, this section was likely written during the exile in Babylon, earning this author the title of “Prophet of Exile.” He is also known as the “prophet of consolation,” which recognizes the heart of the message these chapters contain. Isaiah is writing in the midst of a people who have lost everything and have been separated from all they knew. Lamentations 1:3 describes their situation:

“Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude; she now lives among the nations, and finds no resting place; her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress”.

The people of Israel were in the throes of crisis, wondering if God was with them or not. As Paul Hanson notes:

This was the Judah addressed by Second Isaiah, a community that saw added to its physical suffering the anguish of being caught in a crossfire of conflicting messages: Israel is a people chosen by a loving God who will care for all its needs. God’s love has turned to wrath. Israel’s God lacks the power to withstand the assaults to Babylon and its pantheon. God is punishing Israel for its sin. God no longer loves Israel. God does not care. What sort of response did this moment of crisis require?[i]

Isaiah’s response was to return the people to a familiar, central concept of their faith. He was providing a sort of theological comfort food, if you will, meant to nourish God’s people during this time of separation. Isaiah reminds those in exile of God’s steadfast commitment to the covenant. Earlier in the Old Testament, such points of clarity have been portrayed in similar ways (see 1 Kings 22:19-24 and the first two chapters of the book of Job): a divine council deliberating about the ultimate meaning and cause of some situation. God gathers a heavenly host together with a simple message to deliver: Comfort! This proclamation reveals the very character of God and intention for God’s relationship with God’s people.

Kathleen O’Connor observes that:

The God proclaimed by Second Isaiah comes in strength with arms stretched out in triumph. But this strength itself is paradoxical, because it is not the strength of a bloody avenger, a violent brute, or a demanding judge. No, this God’s strength appears in a barely thinkable power of gentleness, in tender and caring presence, in intimacy such as a shepherd expresses when gathering the wounded, scattered flock.[ii]

Put another way, this text describes the wonder and glory of God in accessible, relational ways. Through Isaiah, God gives a glimpse of what restoration looks like; one with God at the center; a God who is loving even in the midst of passing judgment and righting the injustices in the world, whether that is lifting up those in valleys or leveling those who sit upon pompous mountains. This is no cheap grace being offered, but rather is the reconciling work of a mighty God. This is what we anticipate in Advent; the arrival of God’s love. Isaiah presents one vision of that for us today.

For God’s people in exile, it was particularly important for them to cling to this image and understanding of God. They were:

in a chaotic situation in which people were tempted either to throw out all forms of the past or to cling mindlessly to tradition out of fear of change, [and so] it was terribly important to maintain a comprehensive vision of reality ordered around one life-giving Center[iii].

Second Isaiah’s words needed to be powerful and persuasive in order to generate the kind of hope and faith that could return them to a relationship with God that would lead them back to Jerusalem. It seems that the promise of God’s love would do just that.

“Comfort, Comfort”; these are words of assurance, and one response to the cries of “how long?!” lifted here last week. They are tender words of promise that can calm and quiet the chaos we experience in our lives, from the gut-wrenching difficult moments of loss to the drama and busyness of a holiday season. Their words can wrap us in a heavenly hug and again focus our attention on the meaning of this time of waiting and anticipation – the Advent of God’s love here on earth. The Advent that came long ago with Jesus’ birth, and the Advent that is to come as we anticipate Christ’s return.

In describing this second Advent, 2 Peter also gives hint to this nature of God. The verses we read today, often misinterpreted and used as fear-tactic texts for the second coming, are rich with an understanding of God’s nature to forgive and love. The people of God are impatient, wondering when Christ will return as promised. Like those in exile, they are questioning if God has abandoned them. To them, the writer of 2 Peter reminds them of their center, just as Isaiah did. He writes that God is “not slow about his promise,” but rather, is patiently waiting so that all come to repent before the day of the Lord. The implication here is that God wants to respond to the world in ways that are loving and gracious, but the world isn’t there yet. While we may argue some with the implications, the writer here seeks to present God in ways that are consistent with the descriptions in Isaiah and others in Scripture, as a God whose steadfast love endures forever. And here, 2 Peter intimates, God has forever to wait.

It’s important, I think, to know the posture with which God waits. Poet Steve Collins describes it this way:

God waits for us,
not like a lion ready to pound
if we let our guard down,
not like an interfering in-law
but like an old friend who’s seen it all before
and likes us anyway,
with whom we can spend time
without having to pretend or explain[iv].

This is Advent waiting; more than the love of a spouse holding a loved one’s purse outside of a dressing room; more than a parent waiting what feels like forever for a toddler to put on his shoes and coat all by himself. This is a waiting marked by LOVE.

“The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” God’s presence and God’s love can and will endure anything. That is the heart of the gospel. Words that bring firm ground on which we can stand, and yes, find comfort.

“Comfort, Comfort”; these are also words of calling. They are in the imperative form in the Hebrew text, meaning they are commands and instructions.  As Richard Ward writes:

These words are not just for us to savor like food at a holiday feast. We are in the situation of the celestial ones and the prophets in the text, trying to find a way to speak them to others that God loves[v].

Isaiah’s words are meant to be proclaimed from the high mountaintops. The prophet is given a new message, declaring the glory of the Lord! “Here is your God!” This is the message we are called to shout with our voices and proclaim with our actions.

Advent is a perfect time to live into this calling. It happens when neighbors lend a hand shoveling snow, or offer warmth and comfort to those without power. It happens when we send messages of love through Christmas cards or phone calls. It happens when we let someone in to traffic or greet stork clerks with a patient smile and appreciation for their work.  It happens when we show compassion to our neighbors. Through Santa’s Caravan, we provide gifts of toys and clothing and food for 175 children, most of whom live in a 5 mile radius from our church. The work has been happening for months, and now is at full force. Yesterday many volunteers prepared the gym; this morning cheerful souls packed food boxes and our children stuffed stockings, and the work will continue into next weekend. This mission of our congregation provides a witness of comfort and a demonstration of God’s love.  In all of these and more, we proclaim the good news of God, a God of HOPE and LOVE, in eager anticipation of Christ’s coming.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
December 10, 2017

[i] Paul D. Hanson, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Isaiah 40-66, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1995).
[ii] Kathleen M. O’Connor, “Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 40:1-11,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iii] Paul D. Hanson
[iv] Steve Collins,  “God Waits.” Alternative Worship: Resources from and for the Emerging Church, compiled by Jonny Baker & Doug Gay with Jenny Brown (Grand Rapids, MI:Baker Books, 2003) 36.
[v] Richard F. Ward, “Homiletical Perspective: Isaiah 40:1-11,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon: The Law of Love – Romans 13:8-10, Psalm 119:33-40

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How many of you would say you “love” the law, or at least rules? Are you sticklers for things like speed limits? Does it make you crazy when people are turning left at the intersection and don’t pass each other first, or don’t take turns at a 4-way stop? What about when watching sports? Do you find yourself explaining or arguing with other fans about technicalities, or try to beat the referees to the call? Rules and laws are something that we tend to have decided opinions on, sometimes strong ones, or at least deeply engrained behaviors, such as what speed we will travel in relation to the speed limit.  Admittedly, I am on one of the rule followers. I like structure and boundaries and order in my life and in the world around me. It makes me a good Presbyterian, with our detailed polity and systems and procedures. Rules and regulations bring me a sense of comfort and security. While I am absolutely willing to push back against rules that I don’t agree with, that generally also takes the form of following the system to change the rule, rather than just outright rebellion. When those around me aren’t following the same set of rules, I feel anxious and irritated. Yes, I’m the person that mentally counts items the person in front of me has in the 10 items or less line if it looks like it’s getting close. It would be fair to say that I love rules.

So does the Psalmist. The Psalmist writes a beautiful prayer about delighting and loving the law of the Lord. Such an ode to God’s instructions is comprehensive. At 176 verses, it is the longest chapter in the entire Bible. The verses assigned to us today from the lectionary cycle emphasize one of its major themes; the joy of following the commandments God has given, naming them as life-giving and uplifting. This is an acrostic Psalm, meaning each of the 22 stanzas (of 8 verses each) begins with a different letter, in Hebrew from Aleph to Tav, in English it would be from A to Z. Perhaps it could have been used to teach. One traditional legend in the Orthodox church, who actively uses this Psalm regularly even  suggests that King David used this Psalm to teach Solomon not just the alphabet, but an alphabet for the spiritual life. The Psalmist does a pretty good job in laying out the importance of the Torah, the sacred law of God’s people Israel. Verse 97 flat out says “Oh, how I love your law!” The Psalm is a beautiful poetic homage to God’s power and role as teacher, and gives us a clue as to how we are to relate to God as well. Verse 105 reads: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (verse 105).  The Psalm reminds us that one of the purposes for God’s laws is to have relationship with how we live our lives. If we truly love God, and love the instructions that God gives, we will live into them, with God’s help.

The Apostle Paul had a lot of ideas about how that looked in the first century, and his writings can help inspire us today, to consider how we are applying those ancient laws captured in our sacred texts to the world we know. Throughout his letters, Paul wrestles with what to make of the law in light of the grace shown in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. He wants to be clear that the early church understands that their actions are not going to be what makes the difference to their salvation – it’s the grace of God that does that. Nevertheless, though, what they do does matter. Repeatedly he calls God’s people to live in ways authentic to the faith they profess. This is especially true in his letter to the Romans. Our text today from Romans 13 is the heart of Paul’s treatise on Christian ethics, the integration of life and faith. David Bartlett offers that:

Roman 1-11 spells out the first part of the commandment: “How do we love God with heart, mind, soul, and strength?” Clue: have faith in Jesus. [Then,] Romans 12-14 shows the various ways in which we live out the second part: Love your neighbor as you love yourself. The summary is itself good news[i].

In these verses, Paul emphasizes a well-known refrain, made clear in Leviticus (19:18) and by Jesus himself with the giving of the Greatest Commandment (Matthew 22:36-40). If there is only one thing that we are to remember about how we are to live it should be this: the law of love. This is the identity marker for us as Christians, what makes us who we are.

It is easy to misinterpret this law. Our first inclination is to get wrapped up in the Hollywood and Hallmark illustrations of a saccharine-sweet and unrealistic set of amorous feelings for the whole world. We treat love as an emotion, something we’re just supposed to feel, that makes us all smiley and happy because, well, we just love everyone. Sometimes, this becomes a hypothetical ideal that we can never really achieve, much like a notion of “world peace.” But Paul doesn’t mean for it to be inaccessible. He uses the Greek word agape for love in this passage, which is not the kind of doe-eyed mushy stuff sense of love. Rather, it is a love that is related to doing things for the benefit of another person, an unselfish concern for others and willingness to seek the best for them. In Paul’s instructions, the law of love, he is calling for love that has tangible signs. It is:

the difficult task of real love for real people who are met in everyday life, not theoretical love for humanity as a whole[ii].

For Paul, love is about action, not just emotion. Love needs to be a verb, THE verb, for how we live as those who delight in God’s law and seek to fulfill it.

Right now in our world, I think LOVE is what is at stake, and how we respond to it will make all the difference. As those who believe in the life-changing power of the love of God through Jesus Christ, we have to live like it matters. We have to follow the law of love. And in times when love is threatened or challenged, that is even more important.

Just over a year ago, in the wake of the senseless and heartbreaking attack on PULSE nightclub in Orlando, Florida, one Tony Award winning speech broke through some of the darkness with words of light. Lin-Manuel Miranda, a composer, lyricist, playwright and actor, won several awards for his creative work in Hamilton, including Best Score. Take a moment to see how he thanked and inspired the crowd [start video clip around 1:40]:

[I’m not freestyling. I’m too old. I wrote you a sonnet instead.

My wife’s the reason anything gets done.
She nudges me towards promise by degrees.
She is a perfect symphony of one.
Our son is her most beautiful reprise.
We chase the melodies that seem to find us
Until they’re finished songs and start to play.
When senseless acts of tragedy remind us
That nothing here is promised, not one day
This show is proof that history remembers.
We live through times when hate and fear seem stronger.
We rise and fall, and light from dying embers
Remembrances that hope and love last longer.
And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love;
Cannot be killed or swept aside.
I sing Vanessa’s symphony; Eliza tells her story.
Now fill the world with music, love, and pride.
Thank you so much for this]

In the face of struggle and tragedy, love is what is going to make the difference.  Love is what brings us together in community with each other. “Love does no wrong to a neighbor,” Paul writes (Romans 13:10). It’s not a trick we have to figure out. Look around you. Those are your neighbors. Think about another person, another group, as far away as you can imagine. Those are also your neighbors. All of God’s children are your neighbors. That means everybody. So, wherever we are, there will always be neighbors around, and with them there will be countless opportunities for us to embody the law of love.

You can do it here in our Sanctuary – consider our youngest worshipping neighbors, the ones who sit on the steps with me each week. Love is being the body of Christ to them, and not just saying they are welcome here, but creating a space in our Sanctuary for them in the PRAYground where they can engage in worship in meaningful ways to them. Love is greeting them, passing the peace, asking them what they learned about God today, or even what they might teach you. The law of love means that everything we do in relation to our children in this place comes from love- our love of them, our desire of them to know God’s love through us and through hymns and scriptures and sermons and communion, and most of all, our hope that they will develop a love for Jesus here.

Opportunities for practicing the love abound for our lawmakers. Right now, they face the monumental task of working together across party lines to address critical issues of immigration for those who arrived in our country as children. They are charged with financial decisions about debt ceilings that impact aid given to hurricane flooding victims and countless other programs. We need to pray for their conversations to be filled with love so that they can work together, and that love will infuse their decisions. And we need to act, to encourage our representatives to create rules and regulations and systems that practice the law of love for our neighbors.

And the law of love is already at work in many places.

The law of love is up the hill – as cars drove through our parking lot yesterday and were filled with produce for the mobile food pantry. As donations of clothing are examined and tagged and displayed as a store-like shopping experience to bring dignity to those in need.

The law of love is in Texas. Do you know about the Louisiana Cajun Navy? (https://www.facebook.com/LaCajunNavy/) It’s an informal, ad-hoc volunteer group of private boat owners who assist in search and rescue efforts. They formed in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, and resurfaced last year after flooding in Louisiana. Two weeks ago, they lined the highways heading towards Texas with bass boats, johnboats, air boats, and other shallow-draft craft that can navigate flood waters to bring relief and rescue. The motto on their facebook reads “We the people of Louisiana refuse to stand by and wait for help in the wake of disasters in our State. We rise up and unite and rescue our neighbors!” A similar sense of fellowship is happening here in Georgia, as those from the coast evacuated up 75 and find welcome and shelter.

The law of love is in the responses of the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, too, not just in Texas and those in the path of Irma, but in other places impacted by flooding, including the South Sudan, Sierra Leone, Madagascar, Malawi, Columbia, and Peru. PDA’s work also extends beyond natural disasters, providing relief and support to refugees, war-torn places, those struggling with famine and hunger and more. Our fish banks and offerings to One Great Hour of Sharing at Easter help support these ministries, and there may be opportunities coming for us to take part in their relief efforts.

This is what fulfilling the law of God looks like. It’s not rigid and legalistic, stuffy or boring; it’s engaging and active, alive and full. It is love as a verb. In big and small ways, there are moments where you can practice this kind of love, a love of action, that actively promotes the well-being and good of another person. Any other person. When we love our neighbors, we fulfill the most core aspect of the law by which God intends we live. And when that happens, I think it’s more than just us who are delighted. God is as well. May it be so. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 10, 2017

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[i] David L. Bartlett, “Homiletical Perspective: Romans 13:8-14,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

[ii] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Proper 18,” Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year A, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).

Food Pantry

Food distribution has been changed to the 1st Saturday of the month at 10:00 am and the 3rd Wednesday of the month at 12:30 pm.

The next Drive-Up Food Pantry is scheduled for Saturday, May 3 at 10 am.  Accurate pre-registration is strongly encouraged to ensure volunteers pack accordingly.
Please sign- up here!

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

Church News

Volunteers are needed to help pack family boxes on Monday, April 27th and Monday, May 19th at 10 am in the Fellowship Hall. We welcome all volunteers.  

Food Pantry distribution volunteer opportunity Saturday, May 3 registration here!

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

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Upcoming Events

Worship

Sunday Schedule

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

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

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

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

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

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

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