stewardship

Sunday’s Sermon – Creation’s Cries – Romans 8:18-25

July 21, 2019 Leave a Comment

This July, our summer sermon series pairs Scripture texts with well-known and loved books by Dr. Seuss as modern parables to deepen our exploration of faith in the world together. This week our Dr. Seuss classic is Horton Hears a Who!

Have you heard the expression “mom brain”? It’s usually a joking-but-true phrase we use to ascribe the phenomenon of how after having children, a woman sometimes loses the ability to keep things straight and are forgetful, to say the least. This is particularly true in those early, sleep-deprived months, but its effects are surprisingly long-lasting. The parenting load is no joke, and the struggle is real. But, truth-be-told, the idea that having children changes things is a scientifically proven fact.

Research shows that pregnancy changes the architecture of the brain for at least two years in areas that govern the understanding of the thoughts, feelings, beliefs and intentions of others[i].

One of the ways this is seen is in a woman’s response to her crying baby.

Researchers from the National Institutes of Health watched the behavior of 684 mothers who had infants approximately 5 months old in North and South America, three countries in Western Europe, two in sub-Saharan Africa, one in the Middle East and two in East Asia. Mothers in all of those places were more likely than not to do the same thing when their infant cried in distress: they picked them up, held them and talked to themⁱ.

And while this might seem like a common response, the neurological responses showed a much different reaction between mothers and other women without children. In mothers,

these responses were deeply wired into the nervous system at a level that is typically associated with instincts. . . the crying of babies triggered the moms’ brains to move and prepare to talk, even before the mothers had necessarily processed what was happening and what they needed to doⁱ.

In summary, those who were parents had an innate instinctual connection with those crying out, and a response of care almost before they could even think about it.

If such a connection is hard-wired into us as humans, how much more must it be hard-wired into God’s relationship with us as Creator? The entire witness of Scripture reveals a God who longs to be in relationship with God’s creation. Over and over again, God seeks out covenant with God’s people, offering grace and love in the Hebrew and New Testament scriptures alike. And here, in Paul’s letter to the Romans, we are reminded of God’s care and presence for what God has created even in the midst of creation’s cries.

N.T. Wright describes this Spirit-inspired prayer as “the beating heart of [Paul’s] whole sequence of thought[ii].”

No matter what, Paul says, God is listening and preparing to free God’s people from bondage and usher in a new age of redemption, where cries will be no more. Through Christ, God responds to the cries of creation for wholeness.

Just as God led God’s people through the wilderness to freedom, so the Spirit leads all of God’s children to a life of freedom.
. . .
Paul’s claims are expansive: everything will be redeemed – all of creation, our bodies, the substance of this earth[iii].

The knowledge of all of this leads Paul into a description of hope; a hope for what is not yet seen. Blair Alison Pogue notes that we don’t really live in a world of hope, saying:

Most Americans are optimistic, but not hopeful[iv].

In the midst of struggle, we want things to work out for the best, but aren’t necessarily convinced that it’s really possible. Vaclav Havel, 20^th century Czech writer, statesmen and former president, talked about hope as prophetic and more as:

an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart. It transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons[v].

Put this way, then, hope is about anchoring our hearts beyond ourselves. This is what Paul was writing about to the Romans. For Paul,

Christian hope is not pie in the sky; it is hope rooted in what Paul calls “the first fruits of the Spirit” (v. 23). This metaphor of the first fruits means that in Christ we already have come to know the power of life over death. We already know freedom. We already know love. We have tasted the first fruits, and they have whetted our appetite for the final banquet. We do have out-of-hand expectations. Because we know the first fruits, we rejoice at the loving, the living, and the freedom. We hunger for more, and we cry out wherever love is absent, life is shortened, and freedom is taken away. The church of Jesus Christ is the community of sisters and brothers who live in anticipation of a new birth of freedom, a new day of loving, and an inheritance of life abundant[vi].

What does it look like to live in this kind of community? Horton the elephant gives us a clue in the Dr. Seuss classic, Horton Hears a Who!. In the midst of his everyday life, this elephant pauses to listen for a call to help. And rather than ignore it, or pass it on as someone else’s problem, Horton makes it his mission to protect and care for that little voice on the speck of dust, because “a person’s a person, no matter how small.” He goes to great lengths, extraordinary lengths, to attend to what we learn is not just one little voice, but a whole people down in Whoville who are at risk. He embodies what it means to be a caretaker of God’s creation, even at the risk of his reputation and at times his safety. He is mocked and ridiculed by others who cannot, or perhaps choose not, to hear the cries of those small voices. He goes out of his way, quite literally, to seek out the speck in a whole field of clover, determined to not let it get lost now that he is aware of its presence. And he endures harsh treatment and even imprisonment for daring to advocate for the smallest of the small, all while trying to encourage their voices.

Where are the “specks” in our world? The list is likely larger than the three million clovers Horton sorted through in that field to find his friends. I wonder if that scene might remind us that there are countless issues and concerns, the majority quite worthwhile, but that some will quite literally call to us more than others, and be the ones the Spirit is nudging us to be passionate about. Throughout Scripture, we hear such calls, to care for and attend to the lost and the lonely, the widow and the orphan, the stranger living among us. Those, along with others on the margins of society, were the ones Jesus himself spent the most time with, and are the ones that are crying out, waiting and longing to be heard. And creation needs, God needs, Hortons in the world to hear and respond: to the older adult who feels forgotten, to the prisoner whose family can no longer visit because he’s been moved even farther away, to the child at the border who does not know if or when she will see her mother again, to the young adult who is struggling with addiction, to the child terrified to go back to school because of bullies. For these, and all of those instances where creation is crying out, who will listen? Who will respond?

This morning, I have a present for each of you. I have a basket full of “specks” and invite you, following worship, to take one home with you. Carry it around for a while, kind of like Horton did, as a prompt to engage in active listening for who God might be calling you to hear. Living in this kind of anticipation puts us into an active relationship with the world, not just as we know it, but in the fullness of all who is. And we might just be able to hope for things we do not even see as a result.

Vaclav Havel reminds us that:

Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed. The more unpromising the situation in which we demonstrate hope, the deeper that hope is. Hope is not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out. In short, I think that the deepest and most important form of hope, the only one that can keep us above water and urge us to good works, and the only true source of the breathtaking dimension of the human spirit and its efforts, is something we get, as it were, from ‘elsewhere.’ It is also this hope, above all, that gives us the strength to live and continually to try new things, even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now[vii].

So may we listen, and act, and live into being the good caretakers and stewards of creation that God intended us to be – for all of God’s children and all of God’s world. Even when it seems impossible or futile, even when it means we’re putting ourselves out there. May this be our call: not just being satisfied with the present, but living into the future promised by God. For this, all of creation cries out. Amen.

~Sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 21, 2019

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[i] Belinda Luscombe, “Here’s How Mothers Around the World React When Their Babies Cry,” https://time.com/4992130/motherhood-crying-babies/, accessed 7/20/19

[ii] N.T. Wright, “Romans,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible (Nashville: Abingdon, 2002), 10:591. As quoted by Karen Chakoian in “Exegetical Perspective: Romans 8:12-25,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

[iii] Karen Chakoian,“Exegetical Perspective: Romans 8:12-25,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

[iv] Blair Alison Pogue, “Homiletical Perspective: Romans 8:12-25,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

[v] Vaclav Havel, Disturbing the Peace, as quoted by the Vaclav Havel Library Association, https://www.vhlf.org/havel-quotes/disturbing-the-peace/, accessed 7/20/19.

[vi] David M. Greenhaw, “Pastoral Perspective: Romans 8:12-25,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).

[vii] Vaclav Havel, Disturbing the Peace, as quoted by the Vaclav Havel Library Association, https://www.vhlf.org/havel-quotes/disturbing-the-peace/, accessed 7/20/19.

Sunday’s Sermon – Digging Holes – Matthew 25:14-30

November 19, 2017 Leave a Comment

Last weekend, Matt and I found ourselves in a pretty deep hole, and it was our own doing. While on our camping trip to Raccoon Mountain near Chattanooga, I had the bright idea that caving would be a fun adventure. So we signed up, filled out a lengthy waiver, put on recommended clothing and headed to the Cavern entrance to meet our guide for our “Waterfall Dome” tour and three and a half hours or so of exploring. We soon veered off from the walking, lit portion of the caverns, and after a slippery walk and belly crawl took a short break. Our energetic young guide, Ben, jokingly asked “so, who here is afraid of heights?” I felt my body stiffen. I had not bargained on heights while deep in a cave. He went on to describe the “y-body position” move we’d need for the next section, angling ourselves “like you see in Ninja warrior” over an opening which he guessed had a drop of anywhere from 8 to 20 feet depending on the section. Then he smiled and asked who was ready to go. I was not. I was trying to figure out if it was possible to go back the way we came; after all, we’d only been going for about half an hour. Then I remembered the notes from the website that said the minimum age was 8 and everyone had to be 56 inches tall. How did 8 year olds do this? They must not have any fear. Fortunately, I have a great partner who saw my panic and reassured me he was there to help me get through it. So we moved forward and made it through. In fact, you couldn’t really see the depth of the drops because of the darkness of the cavern, and it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as our guide had made it out to be. Difficult? Yes. Unnerving? Absolutely. But doable. At the end of the day, you have to overcome your fears if you want to get out of the cave.

In today’s parable, only two servants would have made it out; the third servant would still be sitting in the muddy cavern with his one talent. In the first century, this was the largest unit of currency available at the time. Some scholars guess that it would have been worth between 15 and 20 years’ worth of a salary for a day laborer. The exact figure isn’t as important for understanding as it is that this was no small pocket change. Do some quick math – double your current annual salary. Now add a zero to it. Imagine it in front of you, a stunning amount that doesn’t belong to you, but is now in your care. Of course the servant dug and hole and buried it to keep it safe. His actions prompt us to ask:

What’s so wrong with being cautious? Discretion and deliberateness are virtues, not vices. But with this third servant virtues become vices. Prudence and wariness easily become self-protectiveness and restraint. Inhibition turns to fear, and the servant ends up refusing the risk of trading in the marketplace[i].

The third servant simply waits for the master to come back, so he can return it, perhaps like a hot potato, saying “Here you go – it’s all there. Every penny accounted for, just like you left it.” Nothing new to see here.

And yet, when the master returns, the prudent decision of the servant is not rewarded. It seems there were some better options for how to pass the time while the master was away. The first two servants had invested their sums, 5 and 2 talents respectively, and each doubled the amount. They are rewarded and given additional responsibilities as a result. Then, the master turns to the third servant, who immediately begins offering explanations and notes that he was afraid to do anything but hide what he had been given in the ground. And the result isn’t pretty. The master is harsh, calling the servant lazy, saying he at least could have put it in a basic interest bearing account. And then he is punished, banished to the darkness where there is weeping and grinding of teeth; one of the most harsh treatments of anyone we read about in Scripture. It’s a hard story to swallow. It’s not like the third servant squandered these funds away on gourmet dinners and fine wines. He didn’t buy an iPhone 10 or go on an all-night shopping spree on Black Friday. He just maintained what was there; a reasonable and safe venture. And that seems to be the heart of one issue Jesus is trying to teach in this parable. As John Buchanan notes:

The point here is not really about doubling your money and accumulating wealth. It is about living. It is about investing. It is about taking risks. . . The greatest risk of all, it turns out, is not to risk anything, not to care deeply and profoundly enough about anything to invest deeply, to give your heart away and in the process risk everything. The greatest risk of all, it turns out, is to play it safe, to live cautiously and prudently[ii].

This parable is the third in a series of four Jesus tells in Matthew about the end times (eschaton) as he nears Jerusalem and the final events that will lead him to the cross. The tension of this journey is palpable, with a sense of urgency and importance. Here, Jesus expresses what he hopes and expects of them after he is gone while they wait for his coming again. This is a parable about what it means to be a follower of Jesus, faithful to him, even when he’s not there to show you firsthand how it’s done. And so, it is a parable about you and me as well.

Often we hear this parable and think about it as a stewardship lesson of investment, or a reminder to use those skills that we have rather than hide them away. And while these are reasonable and worthwhile perspectives, they fail to capture the larger picture and drama of the context of this parable about the end of time, kingdom of God, and judgment. We might, as Matt Skinner suggests, think about it more as a parable about callings, the “positions in which God has placed you to make a difference; opportunities to be influential[iii].”

The third servant had the opportunity, the calling, to take what had been put before him and do something for the glory of the master. And instead of building up, he dug a hole in fear. Skinner continues:

This parable is about more than just what you can do, or what God has gifted you with, but it’s a parable about what are you going to do in those moments where you clearly know what it means to represent Christ in a moment and you don’t do so[iv].

From the first century until today, God’s people have had trouble stepping up to live fully into Christ’s call to live actively as disciples. In the 1940s, German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer struggled with this as he wrote in the midst of the Holocaust. He offered “that the sin of respectable people is running from responsibility[v],” as he wrestled with his own sense of responsibility to speak out against Hitler and the Nazi party, which led to his arrest, internment in a concentration camp, and execution. Running from responsibility looks a lot like digging holes.

This is what Martin Luther King, Jr. railed about in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” lamenting and calling out those who, like the third servant, did nothing. King wrote:

I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection[vi].

The middle ground, you see, the ground of inaction and passivity, of the third servant, of the hiding in a hole, is no ground to stand on at all.

This pattern infiltrates our daily lives as well. Fear overtakes our desire and ability to do the things we know are good and right. We don’t speak up when things don’t seem right because we don’t want to create waves. With Thanksgiving on the horizon, this will be tested repeatedly as families with diverse opinions gather. We hesitate to volunteer because we aren’t sure if we have the abilities, or are selfish with our time and afraid it will take away from the other things we want to do. We don’t want to be inconvenienced. The holes we dig for ourselves are all around us. And, even when confronted with it, we keep digging. Have you ever realized you were wrong about something, but then became even more insistent on your wrong notion, or kept talking and saying things that only made something worse? It seems we think that the holes will somehow protect us a bit, but most of the time they end up burying us instead.

The good news is, we have this parable to inspire us to choose another way; to stare fear in the face and stand on the side of Christ; to be bold enough to take a stand in the face of what tries to render us helpless and say, “not today.” In the wake of yet another story about a shooting during a service of worship, our very gathering here today is a witness to the power of the gospel to triumph over fear. This is what it means to be the church. Our Book of Order even helps define it this way, saying:

The church is to be a community of faith, entrusting itself to God alone, even at the risk of losing its life[vii].

As people of faith, we are called to take risks, not dig holes. This is one of our greatest callings as those who follow Jesus and live in anticipation of his return. To live into the kingdom of heaven that these parables describes means being ready to present ourselves to God not as maintainers of the bare minimum, but as faithful investors who lived fully into the lives God gave us.

As poet Marianne Williamson reminds us:

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone.
And as we let our light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others[viii].

Rather than throw each other shovels to make the holes of fear and insecurity greater, let’s throw some ropes down, join hands, and help each other navigate those caverns and holes together, until we all are brought back up again. And in the midst of the darkness we are in, may the light of Christ shine our way, so that we may be bearers of light to the world with good news, the kind the doubles what we have been given. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
November 19, 2017

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[i] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, and James D. Newsome, “Proper 28,” Texts for Preaching- Year A, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).
[ii] John M. Buchanan, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 25:14-30,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[iii] Rolf Jacobson, Karoline Lewis, and Matt Skinner, “Sermon Brainwave Podcast #570 – Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost,” Working Preacher.Org, Posted November 11, 2017, http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=948, accessed 11/15/17.
[iv] Matt Skinner.
[v] As referenced by John M. Buchanan.
[vi] Martin Luther King, Jr, “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” April 16, 1963, https://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html, accessed 11/16/17.
[vii] Book of Order 2017-2019, Presbyterian Church (USA), F-1.0301.
[viii] Marianne Williamson, “Our Deepest Fear” from Return to Love, as printed in Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Volume 3, (Cleveland, Ohio: United Church Press, 1996).

Sunday’s Sermon – Keep Going! – Philippians 4:1-9

October 15, 2017 Leave a Comment

Every November, the city of Richmond, Virginia, hosts a marathon. For 26.2 miles, runners pace themselves down Monument Avenue, across the James River, and tour the city in a street race. This is my story of that race. I didn’t run it (clearly – remember, I’m not a runner!), but my seminary campus was along the race route, and each year members of our community would volunteer at the closest water station, or just meet up to enjoy fellowship as we watched those running pass by. During my third year, we had a specific objective – one of our classmates was running. Signs were made, and various friends were positioned along the entire race route to cheer her on. We waited eagerly next to campus, close to the paced out time, excitedly scanning the runners for our friend. After a little while, someone caught sight of her and began to yell. The first thing I saw was Faith’s smile.

She shifted her run to come closer to the side where her cheering section had gathered, and ran victoriously by our campus receiving all the high fives and love she could. Another classmate, Lindy, joined her at the corner and ran a mile or so with her to give her a final boost to make it to the finish line. In class the next week, we celebrated with her again as she wore her medal to one of the classes we shared. She noted, eyes beaming, how much it meant to her to see those familiar faces along the race path, especially in those later miles when she thought her body might give out.

It helps, you see, to have a cheering section that reminds us to “keep going!” in our pursuits. A little encouragement can go a long way to help lift our spirits, remind us of our abilities, and get that extra boost to carry us forward. In many ways, Paul’s letter to the Philippians is one large cheering section for the early church. Throughout the letter, he encourages them to live their faith in the best ways possible. A large part of this is a call to unity with each other, that they might find strength in numbers and in working together. He also continues to emphasize the great gift of faith and power of Christ’s presence among them when this happens. In this final chapter he delivers a wonderful punctuation point with instructions on how they are to continue.

Verse four is one of the most well-known verses in Scripture and is often among those favorites we list. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice!” For Paul, this is an important mark of the life of faith – a constant and persistent celebration of God in the lives of believers. You might even imagine the popular tune by Bobby McFerrin playing in the background, “Don’t worry . . . . be happy!,” particularly when reading the next verses. Such a conclusion is upbeat and uplifting, and it gives us all those warm and fuzzy feelings. It seems to check all the boxes for what encouragement should be.

For most of us, we hear these verses in fairly relaxed circumstances. It’s a crisp fall day and we are comfortable here in our pews, looking forward to a delicious picnic outside after worship. We might describe our metaphorical level of exertion as that of a leisurely stroll. For Paul and the Philippians, though, the context might have been a bit more taxing. We know from other places in this letter that the Philippians were enduring some sort of external persecution, and likely some internal turmoil and disunity. And Paul? He was writing this letter from prison. So it’s fair to say that both the reader and writer here were under some amount of stress. Perhaps the race equivalent of, say, mile 23 of the marathon. And here, the words of encouragement are even more important, and the instruction for continual joy even more challenging.

Paul is encouraging himself and his readers to remember joy continuously, because of what they know to be true in Jesus Christ. As Nathan Eddy notes:
Joy is a discipline of perception, not an emotion dependent on circumstances

The role of joy in faith is not just celebratory – it is provocative and subversive. JOY is persistent, and seeks to overturn those threatening situations, vain desires, and selfish ambition and replace them with a peace that guards hearts and minds. What better place for it to begin than in difficult times, where it is needed the most. Eddy goes on to say that:
Joy always takes root amid adversity; there is no other soil for it to grow in .
By taking on a perspective of joy, the Philippians will join God in delighting for the good that is happening in the world, and will be motivated to keep pursuing it. Above all else, joy has the ability to keep things going.

This week, I had the incredible blessing of attending a conference at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur that connected the creative work of improve comedy to the context of serving in ministry and the need for adaptive leadership. It was eye-opening, and very fun. As we began, we gathered in a circle for some introductions, and the leaders used joy to build the energy in the group and foster a sense of connection and momentum for us that would launch us into our time together. After each person completed a prompt, the entire group would raise hands and exclaim, “that’s awesome!” It didn’t matter what was said. Some of the things shared were good, like a comment about someone seeing friends in town. Others were not quite that way, such as when someone shared that they had just quit their job and weren’t sure what came next. Admittedly, it was a bit weird to say “that’s awesome!” to some of them, but after a few times it started to make sense. We were honoring the brave space in which they had shared, and the refrain became an expression of support and encouragement. Laughter broke some of the tension and community was created. All with a little bit of shared joy, a precursor to what was to come.

A large part of improv comedy involves keeping the energy going. The adage “Yes, And” is a hallmark to this practice. It reminds the actors that what is spoken by others is offered as a gift. The job of others on stage is to attentively listen and receive it as that gift, encouraging each other and building upon what others have offered. The simplest way to do this? Start your response with “Yes, And . . .” It’s amazing the energy this can generate. It pushes the story forward, even to unexpected places.

When we’d forget, the energy would suddenly fall. A negative block of an idea would feel like the rug was pulled out from under us or a door was slammed in our face. But as the week progressed, we got better at doing it. We began to work together in pretty profound ways as a team. “Yes, And” became a way we helped inspire each other to “keep going.” One of our leaders even challenged us to step into open space before we knew what we were going to say, trusting that we could keep it going. And on those times when we failed? We knew we had the joy of “That’s awesome!” or a slow motion 1980s style group high five that would break any sense of failure apart with joy. No matter what comes, Paul, writes, keep going. If things are difficult, just put one foot in front of the other.

“Yes, And” is permission to “keep going,” and should be the line on all of our lips with each other as we encourage one another in faith and ministry. Last week in our text from Philippians 3, Paul urged us to “press on” and keep our eyes on the prize of the heavenly call. This week, just one chapter later, he continues this message with the encouragement to keep on doing what we have learned and received. Keep going. It’s simple advice that moves us into the future, and helps us live into the joy we carry or need to discover. “Press On, Keep Going” is what is carrying us through this Stewardship season as we reflect and make commitments to one another here in ministry. As a congregation, we are cheering each other on, and pointing each other towards greater goals of discipleship with each of these pledge cards. We are reminded that we are in this together, each of us doing what God calls us to do, trusting that the Spirit will knit us together in powerful ways. This is a day of celebration! We will rejoice together here in this space for worship, and continue in a time of fellowship at noon. There is much to be celebrated about what God has done, yes, AND today we also celebrate what we hope God will do in us, through us, and maybe in spite of us, in the year that is to come. Even if you are not a member of our congregation, I invite you to take a few moments and jot a note, perhaps on a scrap of paper, that is your offering to God today for how you will engage in ministry in your own ways, and then bring that paper forward with you as an inspirational sign, lifting it to God, the ultimate encourager.

Keep going, friends, in faith in the one who runs alongside us and is always near us. Keep going, and rejoice along the way! May these cards and offerings be our “yes” to following Jesus Christ, and may we joyfully anticipate that God will keep them going, receiving them and saying “yes, and…”

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
October 15, 2017

Quotes from Nathan Eddy, “Homiletical Perspective: Philippians 4:1-9,) Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011.)

Sunday’s Sermon – Press On – Philippians 3:4b-14

October 8, 2017 Leave a Comment

I am continually impressed with those who have the discipline to run, even more so the ones who do it for fun. I have several friends who post about their training for marathons, including one who recently completed a Ragnar ultra-relay run, in which she and 5 friends combined ran 200 miles over a weekend. Seeing things like this remind me that I am in no way a runner. I grew up playing soccer, but was a defensive midfielder, which meant I spent most of the game in sprints and stops. I’m also horrible at pacing myself, so if I were to start out just trying to run, I would quickly reach maximum exertion and then be spent. Running without a ball or Frisbee to chase is of little appeal to me most of the time. I need to have some sort of objective. So right now, I’m working my way through a program called “Couch25k[i],” which gives a schedule of intervals of walking and jogging or running over the course of 9 weeks. I’m starting week 4, and let me tell you, I’m not looking forward to it. This is the week where things shift so you run twice as long as you walk, rather than in evenly paired intervals, and I know it’s going to be hard. I am tempted to stop, or to at least just remain with the more comfortable “easy” runs in which I didn’t feel like I was going to fall off the treadmill and my legs didn’t feel as rubbery. But, with you all as my witnesses, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to challenge myself to press on to the harder runs, because I know that’s the only way I have any hope of actually reaching my goals this time around.

All of this to say, is running is no joke. It takes commitment, hard work, and discipline. The same is true about our life of faith, which is something the apostle Paul knew well. In Philippians, he utilizes the image of an athlete to demonstrate that the Christian life is not about just a quick profession of faith in Jesus Christ and then sitting back and waiting until he comes again. As Fred Craddock writes, the image is quite the opposite:

Paul portrays himself in the least relaxed, most demanding posture he knows: as a runner in a race. His language is vivid, tense, repetitious: pressing, stretching, pushing, straining. In those words the lungs burn, the temples pound, the muscles ache, the heart pumps, the perspiration rolls[ii].

For Paul, faith is an active response marked by a sense of movement toward something more. And Paul is quick to point out what gets left behind.

He reflects in this letter about his many accomplishments as a successful student of the Torah who was zealous about fulfilling his religious obligations. He notes that he was one who “had it all” religiously speaking. He took part in the appropriate rituals and adhered to the letter of the law. But then he references that moment we know from Acts 9 with his conversation on the road to Damascus, and identifies that this has shifted his perspective drastically. Now, all that he once clung to as accomplishment is loss. The word in Greek he uses is translated by the NRSV as “rubbish,” but carries a much more graphic feel – you can substitute your own euphemism. Instead, he has discovered that there is a much greater goal than just checking off all the boxes on the activities card at church. His focus has shifted, and now he is zeroed in more directly on an engaged relationship with Jesus Christ. For Paul, this is a critical distinction, and a straightforward reminder that our lives of faith are not as much about us as they are about Jesus. That is what he identifies as the gain.

Put simply, Jesus changes everything. Christ’s resurrection and claim on us as his own reorients us to a new way of being in the world that is forward-facing, not looking back to our own past achievements. The image of the runner here again is helpful. In running, it is usually less helpful to spend much time thinking about the road that is behind you. Instead, the focus needs to be on what lies ahead. Sometimes, that means little increments. I remember doing conditioning runs each year at the beginning of soccer season, when we had all neglected our training. As the team captains led us on a neighborhood run, I remember looking to telephone poles, large trees, street corners, anything I could to give myself a focus point on which to reach. By keeping my eye on something ahead, I found my feet were more likely to move forward. In the first century, however, runners may have had a different perspective. If you look at art from around that time and earlier, you find that the depictions are almost always of runners looking backward, suggesting that it may have been common to look over one’s shoulder when running[iii], as if you were being chased. Of course, this will generally make for a slower run, and potentially a dangerous one if you don’t pay attention to what is coming up. Paul’s image in Philippians may have been provocative to those early readers, challenging them to see things from a different perspective and to take on a new way of thinking in relationship to their lives of faith.

Maybe we need that reorientation, too. It is very easy in our lives of faith to get caught up in what has been done in the past and only note what we have experienced or have done before. This can be good, of course, as we recall those foundational and pivotal moments to our relationship with God. But it can also leave us with a belief system that is in the past, rather than one that engages us now in the present. Paul, I think, would have us work to let go of the things in our past that distract or encumber us so that we can pay attention to the here and now. Then, we can look ahead and press on to the future that lies before us. In order to get there, he might suggest that we focus on the one who is responsible for it all – Jesus, who is indeed ahead of us. Consider the chorus to the old hymn as our refrain:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory grace[iv].

These words were written in 1922 by Helen Lemmel, and the verses speak to those struggling with weary hearts and to places where evil seems to envelop all light and hope with darkness. In the face of heartbreak and tragedy, these words are a powerful testimony to the transforming power of Jesus Christ; of the good news of the resurrection that said evil and sin in this world would never be the final answer. This is the hope of our faith, and it needs to be spoken over and over again – as natural disasters strike, and as domestic terrorism leaves more than families grieving and hundreds injured in Las Vegas. As people of faith, we need to cling to the hope that Jesus can and will change these realities.

But our text from Paul also presses us to do more. Remember, he doesn’t instruct the Philippians to rest in this good news. He calls them to action. Thoughts and prayers are important in times of struggle, and good and right, but they themselves cannot be the end. We must press on towards a more full participation in the life-giving transformative work that God has done and is doing in the world through Jesus Christ. This means being a witness of compassion and love, like those who rushed to provide medical attention and care for the injured. This means being engaged in measures that might prevent such attacks from happening in the future. This means looking around our own communities and asking if we are showing Christ to each other every day in ways that foster peace and usher in the kingdom of God. This means spending time in prayer and reflection on what our own “heavenly calls” might be, whether around these circumstances or others where we are passionate. Our work as disciples isn’t finished just because we are here confessing that Jesus Christ is Lord. In fact, that profession is just the beginning of the race and journey Paul talks about. And, it’s like the clichéd phrase reminds us, it isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon.

The life of faith is about action and continued discernment. This is what “pressing on” toward Jesus is all about, and our text for today urges us to examine our own lives and consider how well or not the decisions we are making is leading us in closer relationship with Christ. This month at Heritage we have paired our stewardship season with these words from Paul, as an encouragement to us to think about our own engagement within this community as well as throughout our lives of faith. A few weeks ago, you should have received commitment cards that asked you to reflect on your financial, time, and talents. Our Stewardship and Finance committee along with the Deacons hope that you will take time to pray with these and see them as a spiritual growth opportunity. The intent of these cards is not to be an obligation or pressure to mark every item on a list, but is meant to be a way that we each make a commitment to Christ through the sharing of all we have been given, a promise to how we hope to look ahead and move forward as disciples of Jesus Christ through tangible ways. Perhaps, in one or more of these areas, you might consider pressing on to a deeper level of involvement. That might mean an increased financial gift, a resolution to attend worship more often, a commitment to pray daily for our congregation and its leaders, or a new way of volunteering your time and talents. Don’t just stay at a comfortable, easy pace with faith. Step up to the challenge of Paul’s race and stretch yourself a bit. You might just find that in doing so you own faith will be strengthened, and that you’re able to do more than you thought possible before. And, as you bring these cards to worship with you next week, remember they are not an end to themselves, but are a reminder that we are on a journey together, straining forward to what lies ahead.

As those on the road together, we are working toward a pretty big goal. Bigger than a “balanced budget,” or “increased worship attendance,” or more hands at the mobile food pantry. While all of these are indeed goals that we can and hopefully will accomplish together, if we only focus on these, we will miss the point of it all. Fortunately, Paul helps remind us. Our “goal” is to pursue the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. That’s it. To be the most faithful in this time and place, and to press on to deeper levels of discipleship together, so that we might be transformed by the relationship we have with Jesus Christ. That’s why this has to be a process of prayer and conversation, attentive to our actions being a natural and earnest extension of our faith. This is what stewardship is all about.

Over the next week, I encourage you to take this passage to heart, and spend time in reflection and prayer with how you are running the race. Center yourself on Jesus and the call God is making to you, and press on to that goal of being the best disciple you can be with your time, your skills and abilities, and your financial resources. In striving towards this goal, the Psalmist’s words will ring true, and we will also be those who “tell of the glory of God[v].” May the words of our mouths, the meditations of our hearts, and all that we do in response, be done with this in mind, that they may be acceptable to God, our rock and our redeemer[vi]. Together, we press on. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
October 8, 2017

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[i] https://health.nokia.com/blog/2016/04/14/couch-to-5k-inventor-josh-clark/
[ii] Fred B. Craddock, Interpretation: Philippians, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1985)
[iii] Annette Weissenreider, “Exegetical Perspective: Philippians 3:4b-14,” Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011.)
[iv] “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus,” words and music by Helen H. Lemmel, 1922.
[v] Psalm 19:1
[vi] Psalm 19:14

Fitness: from Physical to Fiscal

October 2, 2017 Leave a Comment

Are you in shape? Frankly, it’s a question many of us avoid at all costs. Either we don’t know the answer, or we don’t like the truthful one. I asked myself this question about my physical health not too long ago, and realized the answer wasn’t what I wanted it to be. So, I’ve started to be more intentional about movement in my daily life, including time spent exercising. As additional motivation, I’m working on a “couch to 5k” plan, which is essentially interval training, where you increase the time spent running vs. walking. It’s hard. I know it’s good for me, but sometimes it’s a battle just talking myself into my sneakers. But, I’ve made a commitment to this program (and am now even further accountable by using it as an illustration here!), which helps me to stick to it. Stay tuned to find out how things are going.

Are you in shape? It’s a question that is about far more than just how far or fast you can run or what a scale might say. It is a question you can apply to virtually every aspect of your life, considering your level of “fitness” in a variety of areas. That, in a nutshell, is what stewardship season is all about. It’s a time when we reflect intentionally about how we are using the gifts God has given us. Through prayer and reflection, we engage in discernment and consider the areas in which God calls us to “keep going” with healthy patterns, and identify those areas when we might “press on” to greater goals with new practices. One way to do this is through the completion of your 2018 commitment cards, both the Financial and the Time and Talents. In doing this, we remember that all we have been given, from our money to our time to our abilities, are a gift from God, and we seek to give back in response, knowing that this giving will nurture our own relationship with God and will contribute to the successes of the ministries Christ has called us to here at Heritage.

I hope that you will take time with both of these commitment cards, making a pledge to your participation in the life of Heritage Presbyterian Church and presenting them in worship on October 15. Marking your intentions can be an excellent way to check-in with yourself, and hold yourself accountable to following through with your intentions to live your most faithful life here in this community. Your commitments also are instrumental to our leaders’ abilities to plan for the future. Your financial pledges allow our Session to make sure our congregation has a solid fiscal plan for the coming year. Your sharing of gifts and abilities strengthen our church’s ministries and remind us of the incredible diversity of God’s gifts and calls to us all. I firmly believe that through these gifts, the Holy Spirit is shaping the future of our congregation, and I am excited to work with you to “get in shape” as Christ’s disciples here at Heritage in 2018!

Sunday’s Sermon – Creation’s Cries – Romans 8:18-25

Sunday’s Sermon – Digging Holes – Matthew 25:14-30

Sunday’s Sermon – Keep Going! – Philippians 4:1-9

Sunday’s Sermon – Press On – Philippians 3:4b-14

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