Grace in Ourselves, by Pastor Greg

If you know me very well, you know that I am a sucker for a good night sky ... a starry, starry night. There’s little I love more than laying on my back and watching the dark and silent sky ... and watching and waiting for those magical streaks of light ... tiny bits of space debris entering earth’s atmosphere and creating little blazing streaks against the speckled blackness of the night sky. Once I begin my vigil, it’s hard for me to give it up and go to bed until I’ve seen at least one meteor ... at least one “falling star”. It affirms something within me that needs affirming ... it jangles a note within that tells me that I am not alone in the midst of the enormity of space and time. I’ve noted the kinship I feel with the psalmist who said: “The heavens are telling the glory of God ...” The streaking lights in the heavens somehow let me know of God’s presence amidst the seeming emptiness of outer space ... and the vast stretches of inner space, as well. It’s only a hint, but it’s enough of a hint for me ... enough of a hint of God’s presence ... God’s love ... God’s grace.

We’re talking about grace these first weeks of fall and here’s the working definition we’ve been using: God’s “grace” is the living goodness of God’s being and God’s power and God’s love that is offered to the world and its people without cost, without condition, without limit.

Frederick Buechner is a Christian writer and preacher who has meant a great deal to my faith and ministry over the years. He was a distant neighbor of mine in Vermont, though I’ve only met him once (in Berkeley, of all places). I like how Buechner describes grace. He says: “Grace is something you can never get but can only be given. There's no way to earn it or deserve it or bring it about any more than you can deserve the taste of raspberries and cream or earn good looks or bring about your own birth. A good sleep is grace and so are good dreams. Most tears are grace. The smell of rain is grace. Somebody loving you is grace. Loving somebody is grace.

Buechner goes on to say: "A crucial eccentricity of the Christian faith is the assertion that people are saved by grace. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do. The grace of God means something like: 'Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are, because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you.'

"There's only one catch” Buechner finally says. “Like any other gift, the gift of grace can only be yours if you'll reach out and take it. Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.”

These first weeks of October are a time of considering our stewardship as Christians ... our loving and responsible care and use of all that has been given to us ... all that has been entrusted to us by the loving Creator of all that is and the giver of all good gifts. We have been guided this year by these intriguing words written by the author of First Peter who said to his readers that they were to serve as “good stewards of the manifold grace of God”. Stewards of God’s grace. Stewards of Grace.

That’s us. That’s who we are. That’s what we do. It’s in our spiritual DNA ... it’s in the bloodstream of our faith. We are not only called to be “Stewards of Grace” ... we ARE Stewards of Grace. As children of God and followers of Jesus, it’s simply who we are. In other words, we are inheritors and vessels of God’s being and God’s power and God’s love. We contain these things ... these gifts ... this essential goodness. We may only be “earthen vessels” ... as St. Paul noted ... just “clay pots” with a few cracks ... but we are still being filled up constantly with God’s grace—if we aren’t too full of ourselves or too full of the debris of life and the world. If we are at all open to God’s goodness and grace, God will fill us to overflowing ... and that overflowing is for the world that God so loves.

One of our members here likes to tell the story about the battered and leaky bucket that was carried by a young girl who trekked each day all the way down to the village water pump to gather the family water. At one time the bucket had been new and strong and carried its contents proudly and securely. But now the bucket was old, cracked and worn and leaked profusely. And it broke the bucket’s heart that each day’s trek to the water pump ended with only half of the precious liquid within ... much had dribbled out. One day the bucket cried out to the God of all beings and things in its weariness and frustration, and God said to the bucket, “Do you not notice the beautiful flowers that grow and bring color and joy to the girl that carries you and brings delight to her neighbors because of the water that trickles from you as she carries you home.”

Sometimes simply “showing up” and being open to grace may be all that is asked of some of us, cracked pots and leaky buckets that we may be. God supplies the treasure ... we merely need to be open to its coming, its indwelling in order to be stewards of that treasure.

Two weeks ago we spoke of some of the ways God’s goodness and grace are at work through us in the world both far and near: Hands on mission projects of a variety of kinds ... walking and working for a variety of needs ... supporting missionaries with prayer and money ... extending ourselves to our homeless neighbors and some many others in need. God’s grace is given legs and wings through our “ditty bags” and our “dirty hands” and our “dollars and dimes”.

You may have noticed that this year’s “stewardship campaign” has come around a month early this year. It’s because during the weeks we’d normally hold the campaign, we’re going to be welcoming homeless families to our church who will make our sanctuary their home for the next two weeks. It’s one of the ways we dribble the grace that has been poured into us onto the dry ground that is all around us.

Last week we talked about Grace in the Church ... there’s another cracked and leaky bucket if ever there was one. Sometimes it’s only the flaws of the foibled church that we can sense and see. And we’ll admit it’s true in many ways. However hallowed an identity the church may have—or think it has, it’s also a terribly “human” institution with all of the warts and scabs and scars that are a part of any other human gathering. And yet God still works wonders in and through the local church as some of our humble ministries will attest. And God’s grace is at work among us, seeking to bind us together in love, seeking to mend broken souls and torn relationships, seeking to fill the empty wells of being with blessings and peace, seeking to empower us as a people and a community.

I’m thinking of particular occasions of grace in our church during the past summer and this fall ... occasions where we have paused in our busy-ness, and taken the time and the care to minister to the children among us ... particularly during Vacation Bible School and Logos. If you played a hands-on part in either of these wonderful ministries, you’ll know the grace that oozed and dribbled and showered down in abundance during these times working with our marvelous kids.

This fall I am privileged to lead our Logos kids—our “Magic Penny” kids—in the part of the Logos day called “Worship Skills”. We learn about worship and practice readings and songs in preparation for Sunday mornings. And I must say: singing with these precious and beautiful parts of God’s creation is like bathing in grace. These young “earthen vessels” carry far more of God’s gentle and loving grace within than they may ever know.  I may come to Worship Skills with bruises and burdens, but by the end of our time, as the kids sit in a closing circle with Sandy and offer up their joys and concerns in prayer, I feel like grace has taken a cleansing journey through me, the bruises partly mended and the burdens partly lifted.

You see, God’s grace is not only at work in the world and in the church. God’s grace is also at work in us ... in me ... and in you. God’s grace is not just “for the world” and “for the church”, it is also for you and me. The psalmist reminds us that we are the sheep of God’s hand, the sheep of God’s care, the sheep of God’s tender keeping. God’s care and keeping offers to us release from our fears, healing for our hurts, and resurrection and rebirth from even our greatest failings. Our “Song of Grace” that we have been singing during these weeks of stewardship expresses God’s tender care of us each:

Grace like a stream, flows gently on.

Wash over me until my fear is gone.

Gentle healing grace, show to me your face.

Wash over me until my fear is gone.

God of our hearts, burdened with care.

Help us to feel your love in humble prayer.

Gentle whisp’ring grace, flow within this place.

Help us to feel your love in humble prayer.

Gentle your touch, upon my soul,

Mold all my being ‘til you’ve made me whole.

Gentle saving grace, show upon my face.

Mold all my being ‘til you’ve made me whole.

Dear friends, know and trust we are the sheep of God’s hand, the sheep of God’s care, the sheep of God’s tender keeping. We are the children of God’s good grace.

I said earlier that I love to star-gaze and love to search for meteors ... that somehow the immensity of space, when streaked with bits of light, strangely warms me and reminds me of God’s presence and care: God’s grace. This morning I was up very, very early—even earlier than usual as there was a special occurrence in the sky that I didn’t want to miss. Each year the earth, in its solar orbit, passes through the extreme end of the tail of Halley’s Comet which won’t re-appear in its full glory until 2061. I’ll be 103. Some of you will be even older. J The resulting meteor shower is called the “Orionid Shower” because the entry point for the meteors is in the place where the constellation Orion hangs in the sky.

I sat out in the back yard very early this morning under a beautifully starry night, a blanket over me and a cup of freshly brewed coffee in hand. A light breeze rustled the neighbor’s palm tree. And I watched as tiny streaks of light graced the dark sky. The Orionid meteors can occur anywhere in the sky, but if you trace the path of each meteor back, the paths all converge in one point near Orion’s belt—they all originate from the same place.

I think it’s a marvelous metaphor for the grace of God ... grace manifest in so many places, in so many ways. Grace expressed beyond us and within us, grace worked out through us and sometimes in spite of us, grace sparkling brightly in times and places where all light seems to have dimmed and perhaps disappeared altogether. But all grace, all good gifts, all healing mercies and emerging hope originate from one place, one source and that is the loving heart of the Creator of All. And it is the night sky that hints at that loving heart, and it is also the children of Logos, and it also is your silent and supportive prayer, and it is also your gifts of time and energy and self and substance, among so many other things, that give me and gives us all life-giving and life-saving hints of the wideness of God’s mercy and the Amazing Grace and Goodness of the one who loves and cares for us all ... and even loves and cares for you ... and for me.

We have been loved and served and saved for a purpose: that we might manifest and make tangible and real the grace of God; that we might make tangible and real the living goodness of God’s being and God’s power and God’s love that is offered to the world and its people without cost, without condition, without limit. We have been loved and served and saved that might be Stewards of God’s Good and Amazing Grace.

Amen.

Grace in the Church, by Pastor Greg

Ann Lamott is a Bay Area native and a writer of both fiction as well as earthy essays on faith. She can be laugh out loud funny and she can move you to copious tears. She grew up in Marin County during a time when the phrase “only in Marin” came to be coined. It was the 60’s and early 70’s. It was a chaotic time to grow up when lives and values and families and children were sort of tossed in the air only to land God knows where. Lamott describes her coming to faith as less a leap than a series of staggers from what seemed like one safe place after another. As a child she possessed a belief in God that defied her arrogantly atheistic surroundings. Describing that child-like faith, she says: “I bowed my head and prayed, because I believed ... in someone listening, someone who heard. I do not understand how that came to be; I just know I always believed ....”

A crash course through broken relationships and addictions left Lamott in a place of nearly suicidal desperation. She describes a dark afternoon where she felt at the end of her rope. A vestige of the old belief still clung to her, but she says: “I felt that the odds of my living long enough to get into heaven were almost nil. They couldn’t possibly take you in the shape I was in. I could no longer imagine how God could love me.”

In a moment of desperation, she went to a nearby church and spoke to the new pastor who struck her as being tenderhearted. When she poured out to him that she didn’t think God could possibly love her, broken and stained and tortured and suicidal as she was, he said: “God has to love you. That’s God’s job.”

It would be wonderful to report that in that one conversation Lamott was “wash-clean” and set free. But the path to new life and health and “salvation” is often not so easy ... so quick ... so painless. She was bumping around the bottom and the top was still a long ways off.

It was the first of the glimmers of grace that began to penetrate her soul, her life, her brokenness. She says: “Slowly I came back to life. I’d been like one of those people Ezekiel comes upon in the valley of dry bones—people who had really given up, who were lifeless and without hope. But because of Ezekiel’s presence, breath comes upon them; spirit and kindness revive them.”

Breath and spirit and kindness were reviving Anne Lamott, and they were coming to her through the breath and spirit and kindness of a skinny, white, middle-aged mediator of God’s grace. But she still had a long, long way to go.

By tumbles and turns, she found herself in a church one day, so hung-over, she says that she could barely stand up for the songs. But she stayed until the end and says that the last song was so deep and raw and pure that she could not escape. She says it was as if the people were singing in between the notes, weeping and joyful  at the same time. She says: “I felt like their voice or something was rocking me in its bosom, holding me like a scared kid, and I opened up to the feeling—and it washed over me.”

She went into recovery, she was baptized at the little church, she had a baby who was also baptized, and she lost her best friend to cancer. And throughout it all there was the steady and faithful presence of the little church that had offered grace to her in their words and songs and silences and actions. She says that she and her baby son, Sam, have missed church maybe ten times in twelve years. She describes the church as a wonderful old worn pair of pants. And it was home. Home. The pastor, who is still there, who became the perfect fit for that “old worn pair of pants of a home” told a story from her childhood. “When she was about seven, her best friend got lost one day. The little girl ran up and down the streets of the big town where they lived, but she couldn’t find a single landmark. She was very frightened. Finally a policeman stopped to help her. He put her in the passenger seat of his car, and they frove around until she finally saw her church. She pointed it out to the policeman, and then she told him firmly, “You could let me out now. This is my church, and I can always find my way home from here.”

Lamott says: “And that is why I have stayed so close to mine – because no matter how bad I am feeling, how lost or lonely or frightened, when I see the faces of the people at my church, and hear their tawny voices, I can always find my way home.”

I don’t know if the Biblical writers of old struggled with addictions or hangovers or how to clean hair out of the hot tub, but I do know they knew what it felt like to be lost and lonely and frightened and in need of a home ... a home where grace was offered without cost or condition. Home, for the writers of our Bible, was the place where the dispenser of Grace could be found ... located ... leaned upon. Home was wherever God landed and dwelled among the people whom God loved and led through the wilderness and into the promised places.

In the desert, God was found in the “tent of meeting” ... it was a portable, traveling temple of a fashion ... wherever the tent was, God was. Once the people settled in the promised land, however, a Temple of hewn stone was built and this became God’s home ... it was here that God dwelled amidst the “holy of holies.” But it was never a comfortable home for God ... it led the worshippers of God to think that God was somehow captive to the home ... restricted to that home ... limited to that home. It took the destruction of the Temple and the scattering of the people and exiles of many years and many kinds to teach the people that God’s truest home was not in a building of stone or a building of any kind. God’s throne was the trusting and humble human heart, and God’s dwelling was any place and time where trusting and humble human hearts gathered and worshiped and broke bread and shared the cup and did the work of God’s own Spirit.

This is the glimpse of the “home” of God that we see in the readings this morning from the book of Acts and the Epistle to the Colossians. We think of the church as being born at Pentecost: the coming of the Spirit of God that touched and filled the followers of Jesus and gathered them into a community of worship and mission. But the church was also filled with the Grace of the One who had called them together and empowered them to be the church. These passages from Acts and Colossians give evidence of that grace ... God’s grace that is to flow into and out of every gathering of believers, into and out of every time of worship, every time of fellowship, every time of working out the continuing ministry of Jesus and God’s work of Shalom.

ACTS 2: All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

ACTS 4: Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great gracewas upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.

For the writer of Acts, the church is a community of “one heart and soul” ... a community of “glad and generous hearts ... a community of “goodwill” ... and a community of “great grace” and growth in spirit and numbers. And the reading from the letter to the church in Colossae gives flesh and garments to these bones:

Colossians 3: As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God ... through him.

For Anne Lamott, the church in which she found her life again fit profoundly the descriptions we have heard in Acts and Colossians. And if there is a single word that fit what flowed into and out of the New Testament Church and that “old worn pants of a church” in Marin City, the word is GRACE. Amazing grace. Grace that is unearned, unmerited, unconditional and unlimited. Grace upon grace and grace abounding.

Lamott tells a story that has always touched me and expresses well the grace that is rightly the possession and the gift of every church in every place and time.

One of our newer members, a man named Ken Nelson, is dying of AIDS, disintegrating before our very eyes.  He came in a year ago with a Jewish woman who comes every week to be with us, although she does not believe in Jesus.  Shortly after the man with AIDS started coming, his partner died of the disease.  A few weeks later Ken told us that right after Brandon died, Jesus had slid into the hole in his heart that Brandon’s loss had left, and had been there ever since.  Ken has a totally lopsided face, ravaged and emaciated, but when he smiles, he is radiant.  He looks like God’s crazy nephew Phil.  He says that he would gladly pay any price for what he has now, which is Jesus, and us.

There’s a woman in the choir named Ranola, who is large and beautiful and jovial and black and a devout a can be, who has been a little standoffish toward Ken.  She has always looked at him with confusion, when she looks at him at all.  Or she looks at him sideways, as if she wouldn’t have to quite see him if she didn’t look at him head on.  She was raised in the South by Baptists who taught her that his way of life—that he—was an abomination.  It is hard for her to break through this.  I think she and a few other women at church are, on the most visceral level, a little afraid of catching the disease.  But Kenny has come to church almost every week for the last year, and won almost everyone over.  He finally missed a few Sunday’s when he got too weak, and then a month ago he was back, weighing almost no pounds, his face even more lopsided, as if he’d had a stroke.  Still, during the prayers of the people, he talked joyously of his life and his decline of grace and redemption, of how safe and happy he feels these days. 

So on this particular Sunday, for the first hymn, the so-called Morning hymn, we sang “Jacob’s Ladder”, which goes, “every rung goes higher, higher,” while ironically Kenny couldn’t even stand up.  But he sang away sitting down, with the hymnal in his lap.  And then when it came time for the second hymn, the Fellowship Hymn, we were to sing “His Eye is on the Sparrow.”  The pianist was playing and the whole congregation had risen--only Ken remained seated, holding the hymnal in his lap—and we began to sing, “Why should I feel discouraged? Why do the shadows fall?”  And Ranola watched Ken rather skeptically for a moment, and then her face began to melt and contort like his, and he went to his side and bent down to lift him up—lifted up this white rag doll, this scarecrow.  She held him next to her, draped over and against her like a child while they sang.  And it pierced me.

God’s grace ... God’s grace ... through the earthen vessel that is the church and the individual members of the church ... God’s grace ... offered without cost ... without condition ... and without limit. God’s grace ... that can pierce us and make us whole and give us back the lives we thought we’d perhaps lost forever.

Let us be persons and a people of God’s grace ... for a church built on God’s grace, will always stand, will always serve, will always save, will always have the strength to sing: “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a soul like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.”

Amen.

Grace in the World, by Pastor Greg

Amazing grace how sweet the sound ...

Grace ... what is grace? It’s a word that gets bandied about a lot by people like us. And it’s a lively question for us this month as the word and the notionof grace are at the heart of our thinking about stewardship. Grace is at the heart what it means to offer our all in support of God’s good work in and around and beyond us.

So here’s a working definition of grace: God’s “grace” is the living goodness of God’s being and God’s power and God’s love that is offered to the world and its people without cost, without condition, without limit. (repeat)

Perhaps you can be thinking or searching for your own definition of grace in the days ahead.

For Paul writing in his epistles—his letters to the churches, grace was all about “salvation”—God’s gift of an unbreakable bond created between the heart of a human being and the heart of God and the eternity of God. But grace and salvation are not to be thought of as some kind of private transaction in which you escape with your hide and “devil may care” about the hides around you. That modern saint, Dorothy Day, was fond of saying: “None are saved until all are saved.” If Christians are only concerned for saving their own skin, their own souls, only concerned with locking up theirown “private path to heaven,” they’ve completely missed the wideness of God’s mercy, and the intended “all-ness” of God’s gift.

And let’s give up the thinking that would suggest that “grace and salvation” are strictly “spiritual” matters ... concerned only with the spirit and the soul—the ephemeral and the eternal, but not the material or the physical. Grace and salvation are also interested in other matters like health and poverty and opportunity and oppression— Grace and salvation are also interested in the neighbor in need. When hunger causes your ribs to show, when disease stalks you and takes your children, when war robs you of your neighbors and your livelihood, it’s hard to care too much about the “eternal security” of your soul. And it’s equally hard to imagine that anyone calling themselves “Christian” could ignore the “neighbor’s” plight while yet thinking of themselves as “saved” and beneficiaries of the “grace of God.”

If “grace” is particular, it is also “universal”. If it is a gift intended for “me”, it is also a gift intended for “us” and the two are inseparable. God’s gift of life and grace and salvation—in the broadest, deepest and richest sense of those terms, is intended for one and for all. To hoard them, protect them, or privatize them is to destroy them.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. We are made to live together because of the interrelated structure of reality. ... This is the way our universe is structured, this is its interrelated quality. We aren’t going to have peace on Earth until we recognize this basic fact of the interrelated structure of all reality.

One of the things we feel we know to say about grace is that it comes to us through God’s gift of Jesus: God in the flesh, God incarnate, God upon this earth as one of us, uniquely human, yet divine. For us, Jesus is the way to God’s grace. So let’s combine that thought with the familiar words of the 16^thcentury Spanish mystic, St. Teresa of Avila:

Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks in

Compassion on this world,

Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,

Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

Fellow “stewards of God’s grace”, we are partners in the “dispensing” and “enacting” of God’s grace. It is the living out of the interrelatedness and the mutuality of God’s grace for one and all, in tangible and compassionate action, that God’s grace becomes realized and made manifest.

Today is Worldwide Communion Sunday. This is a day when we symbolically break bread and share the cup with Christians the world over ... in every place and every condition. On this day of communion and grace, I would simply note three ways that we help dispense and enact God’s living and tangible grace in this world that God so loves.

ONE: Seafarer’s “ditty bags” ...

TWO: I’m thinking of the work that we support in Haiti ... and especially the work of our missionaries there, Nzunga Mabudiga and Kihomi Ngwemi, a husband and wife team who are natives to the Congo.

Nzunga and Kihomi serve as a vital link between International Ministries and the Haitian Baptist Convention. Nzunga teaches theology at the Christian University of Northern Haiti, trains assistant professors in teaching and writing books, administers a scholarship program, and visits and preaches in churches. He also administers the "Kids for Kids" goat project that provides needed school and personal supplies for children and university students.Kihomi works with families in the areas of counseling, family planning, and women's health issues. She also coordinates and advises the women's association of the Haitian Baptist Convention, representing women of all the Baptist denominations of Haiti at international conferences.

Nzunga and Kihomi are also deeply concerned about the merciful medical ministry of the hospital we support in Limbe: “The Hospital of the Good Samaritan.” Several years ago we, as a church, gave a significant gift toward the purchase a new generator that would help supply the hospital with a reliable source of electricity so they wouldn’t have to rely only on the unreliable local power “grid”—if it could even be called that. It was a huge boost to the hospital’s care they offer to their neighbors in need.

THREE: Heifer ... a gift that keeps on giving (as opposed to guilt ... Keillor)

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,

Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

Christ has no body now but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

compassion on this world.

Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

At this time I invite us to begin to draw near to the table that is laden with rich hints of God’s goodness and grace: bread and the juice of grapes. The bread and the cup symbolize the world’s physical hunger and its satisfaction. We may not be able to “live by bread alone”, but without bread, we cannot live at all. The bread and the cup symbolize the sustenance and nutrition all beings need to live. And they also symbolize the deeper sustenance and nutrition without which we also have no real being: the sustenance of our souls, our hearts, our dreams, our spirits, our purpose, our living, our humanity. God is also concerned with these things and all things—with the “allness” of all people—and God promises to feed all who come together in love to this love feast with that which satisfies and fulfills our bodies and minds, hearts and spirits.

So let us come and join together with the children of God’s heart the world over in partaking of this food, this meal, this grace.

 Christ invites us all to this Holy Feast.

  As we gather this morning,

            we remember our sisters and brothers

            from above and below the equator,

            from the North and from Down Under,

            from every time zone around the globe.

  As today's sunlight inches across land and sea

  Christians gather to celebrate their place

in God's family.

  All are invited and all are welcome.

  Come, for the meal is ready!

Creating Diversity, by Chris

Let me ask you something. What do a corpse flower, a blob fish and a star nosed mole have in common? Well to answer that question we have to go back. Way back. Way way way way back to the beginning. To creation.

         In the beginning it says the earth was dark and formless, like the middle of the ocean on a pitch black night. And God moved along the waters and saw that it was very...dull.  A Dark formless void is not the most exciting place around. Why? Because it is all the same. So God said, “Let there be light!” And there was light. Now suddenly the elements had doubled. There was light and darkness. Twice as much as before. The first dichotomy of the universe.

It is interesting that this story begins with the creation of light. Do you remember the story I told last year about Jenny the Jellyfish. Jellyfish were the first creatures to develop a sense of sight, and they did that by being able to distinguish light from dark. It is the first, but the most primitive way to see the world. Light and Dark.

         And there was morning and there was evening, the first day.

         On the second day, God was surveying the waters. God could see them better now with all the light. Lots of waters. Miles and miles of water. It was calm and peaceful. Never moving. Never going anywhere. And God saw that it was...dull. Lifeless. This calm body of water was fine for a while (like a day maybe) but then God came to realize that it just sat there. Boring. So God separated the waters. God took the waters and created a dome that rose above the oceans below. And God called this dome, sky.

         Now the Bible stops there, but we, with the benefit of science and history, can read a bit deeper into the story. What God really created on the second day was...anyone...weather. By separating the water, God created what we now call an atmosphere. By making water vapor God created the clouds that move across the sky. With the atmosphere there could now be wind to blow across the water. Wind, which we use as one of the symbols of Spirit. By moving the water into the sky, God also created rain which we use to symbolize cleansing, renewal, and life-giving nourishment. And let’s not forget fog. If you are an East Bay or San Francisco resident, fog is a constant companion this time of year.

         Water separated. Weather created. And there was morning, and there was evening, the second day.

         So on the third day, you would think that God would be happy with everything. God made tons of different kinds of water. But God looked at the clouds in the sky, the sea swirling below and God thought, “It’s all just water. Sometimes its light, sometimes is dark, but it is always just water. It is so insubstantial. I need another element.”

         So, the Bible says, God gathered all of the water into one place and made land appear. A whole new element was created. Earth. Rock. Formed. Solid. Not like formless water. This was something new. Something different. It is interesting to note that the water was gathered and the land arose not to replace the water, but to compliment it. And what a compliment it was. God did not create just one kind of landscape. Oh no. There was much diversity. Giant rising mountains with deep dank caves growing inside them. Large rolling hills, flat sweeping plains, massive erupting volcanoes, and far reaching deserts.

         And God looked upon this land and decided it needed a little decoration. Something to, you know, spruce up the place. So God created “plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it.” And sure this included oak trees and apple trees and grape vines and the lovely green grass in your yard. But it also included the corpse flower. “What is a corpse flower?” you ask. “Known by its scientific name, Rafflesia arnoldii, this parasitic plant has no visible leaves, stems, or roots. But it does boast the world's largest single bloom that can grow over three feet across and has a hole in the center that holds six or seven quarts of water. It gets its name from its smell which reeks of, you guessed it, rotting meat. But it is this smell which attracts insects that it relies on to pollinate. Gardeners, you may want to consider this next season. Just one of several amazing diverse plants.

         If the corpse plant does not do it for you (I personally find it fascinating) then just think of all of the different kinds of fruit that you can taste at the supermarket. Think of all of the color of flowers to see. Do you know that there are over 100 species of roses alone? Truly God was getting this diversity thing down. What stated as nothingness has now erupted into color. Land. Vegetation. Diversity had sprung. And there was morning and there was evening the third day.

         Fourth Day. God looked away from the little blue dome for a second and into the universe. Probably because all of those plants needed some time to grow. God looked into space and decided that it needed some energy. And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.’ And it was so. 

         There are two interesting things at work here. One is that God created something to nurture life on Earth. The sun it says rules the day, while the moon rules the night. They are reminders that God is taking care of us.

         Secondly, God effectively creates a way to mark time. Debates about creation versus evolution aside, it is amazing how much value this story gives to the creation of time. A whole day. The sun and the moon are signs to mark the seasons, signs to mark the days and the years. These are the first measurements, the first markers of order in the universe. Another way that God takes care of us, but giving us order.

         And there was morning and there was evening on the fourth day.

         So fifth day we are back on earth. God saw that the earth was teeming with life. Vegetation and fruits of all kinds. But then God took a look at the waters, and saw that they had been neglected while all of this gardening was happening. The land was beautifully decorated. By contrast the waters both on the bottom and in the sky looked so empty and boring. So God filled them. God said, ‘Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.’         

Now God was on a diversity kick. After creating all of the strange, colorful and interesting plants, God turned that same kind of attention onto the birds and fish. There are 10,000 different species of birds. 10,000! Any bird watchers here? Have you made it to 10,000 yet?

And there are fish of all kinds. Weird stuff too. If you do not believe me, just go home and do a Google image search for weird fish. If you do you might come across this guy, the blobfish. The blobfish are found off the coasts of Australia and Tasmania. They live in deep ocean and are rarely seen. To move, the blobfish spreads out its blob-like body and floats right above the see floor. It needs neither oxygen nor muscle power to move. It eats whatever floats into its mouth. It survives because it has no known predators. I mean, would you want to eat this?

So the blobfish, the 10,000 species of birds, and the rest are all part of the wonderful creation that was morning and evening on the fifth day.

On the sixth day, God must have gotten up early. I imagine that God was up all night trying to think of all of the ways that the great success with the air and ocean could be applied to land. God probably looked at all of the vegetation and thought, “Wouldn’t it be great if there was something or someone here to enjoy all of this?” So God got to work. God created animals to appreciate the tallest trees. Here is a giraffe. Now many think of a giraffe as a majestic animal. Personally I think it is a bit goofy looking. But God made the giraffe to appreciate the tall trees.

However, God also made the star nosed mole. Whereas the giraffe explores the high vegetation, the star nosed mole prefers the land underground. Now you can see how it gets its name. But this odd looking feature is extremely important in this creature’s underground habitat. In addition to keeping dirt out of its nose, the mole’s 22 tentacles are extremely sensitive to touch and to electrical impulses and allow the moles to find their invertebrate prey without using sight. So after six days of creation God makes something to live in and appreciate the darkness in the whole thing started. Fascinating.

But after the mole and the giraffe and all of the other land creature were made, God was still not done. Though God had made everything in the world, there was nothing that could truly appreciate creation and its scope the way that God does. So God decided to create humans. God created them in God’s image. Now many people think that this means that God looks like us. Others think that it means that humans have a soul like God separating them from the other creatures. But you want to know what I think? I think that it means that we are blessed with the ability to create. Now many animals can create things; this is true. Just look at a spider’s web or a birds nest and you can see evidence of this. But humans are the only creature with the kind of tremendous foresight it takes to create murals, gardens or architecture. We are the only ones that can think ahead to make something that will be used and seen for generations to come. And it is with this ability to create that we can appreciate creation. God gave us the blessing of being able to look at this planet and be awestruck by its diversity. We can look on it and see that it is good, the same way God saw that it was good.

And there was evening and there was morning the sixth day.

So how do we take this charge that is given to us by our creator? How do we learn to appreciate diversity? Diversity in our world? Diversity in each other? It reminds me of a joke. A violinist gets into a cab in New York City and asks the cab driver, “Do you know how to get to Carnegie Hall?” The cabbie responds, “Practice practice practice.” And that is what we have to do. To fully appreciate others we have to practice.

So what keeps us from practicing? For some it might be fear. Fear of difference can be a very powerful force. Just ask anyone who fought for civil right in the 60’s, or any Muslim American in the wake of 9/11 or anyone who identifies as gay, or transgendered, or any other sexual minority that has faced persecution because of who they are. Fear of what is different is only one step away from ridding the world of difference. But that is the opposite of what we have learned in this beautiful creation story. We are not creatures of destruction. We are creatures of creation. We are not products of limited diversity. We are products of flourishing diversity. It is time to start living like it.

Our outreach challenge this week is to have a conversation with someone who comes from a different culture than you, or has a different way of life than you live.  I invite you to open your minds up to meeting new people, seeing things in a different way, and being changed. I invite you this week to appreciate this diversity in others the way that God appreciates the diversity in all of creation.

I started this sermon with a question. What do a corpse flower, a blobfish, and a star nosed mole have in common? The answer is that they are all part of a diverse and wonderful creation. As am I. As are you.

And the people said...Amen

Easter Economics, by Chris Shade.

I have to start this sermon with a confession. I love P.W.P. television shows. Anyone know what these are? Well I will fill you in. P.W.P. stands for people with problems. You may have seen these kinds of shows before. They usually follow some person around for a given period of time and showcase their particular issue. It can be anything from drugs to hoarding food or junk to eating laundry detergent. But what is most fascinating about these shows to me is not the actual problem.  What’s fascinating is the revelatory moment. This is the moment when the main person discovers that he or she is in need of help. In that moment their perspective shifts and a new life becomes possible. When it works they are able to put their old ways behind them and move into a new future of change and happiness.

In a revelatory moment, one’s eyes are flown wide open. People become like the blind man that Jesus healed. The scales that were once there blocking the vision of the truth fall away. There are many stories like this in the Bible. Though they might not have a strange addiction or crazy obsession, they do have revelatory moments that change their lives forever. Think of how Moses must have felt when God appeared to him in the burning bush. He could not just walk away from that and pretend it did not happen. From then on his life was forever changed.

Yes there are many of these stories of revelatory moments in the Bible and I would venture to guess that we could each come up with one in our own lives. However, historically there is none that is so powerful and formative for us as Christians as the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. And as powerful as it is for us, imagine how it must have been to those who walked and talked with Jesus. Their simple lives became overwhelmed with the formative power of this man and his teachings. Talk about a revelatory moment. Nothing after would ever be the same. They were living in a new time. A new consciousness. They were living in rapid change with a message to help steer it. Starting to sound familiar yet? Are we not also in a rapidly changing environment with a message to help shape it?

So they have their revelatory moment. They have witnessed the love that could not be buried, and they have been tasked to spread it out into the world. The question that remains before them is “How?” This brings us to our scripture today. Acts 4:32-35...

         But...Before we delve into this, it is important to see the context. Previous to this passage, Peter and John had been arrested by the chief priests and the elders for performing a healing. And you know it was miraculous because the text is clear to point out the man was over 40 years old! When they were questioned they made it clear that the healing was done in the name of Jesus. The authorities wanted to punish them, but they couldn’t because all of the people were so overjoyed at the miracle done on this impossibly sick man. So they released Peter and John warning them not to speak to anyone in the name of Jesus. Peter and John returned to their community and prayed for boldness to continue speaking and healing in Jesus name.

I mention this context because I want to make clear that the stakes were very high. They had been arrested. They were being threatened. And perhaps worst of all, they did not know what the future was going to hold for them. Loyalty, togetherness, and faith were all they had. That and a few possessions. 

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. ³³With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. ³⁴There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. ³⁵They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. 

At first this might sound like a simple lesson on sharing. After all sharing is great. Isn’t sharing something that we try to instill in all of our kids? Whether you are a parent, a teacher or a youth (or Logos) leader, sharing is one of the fundamental lessons that we try to teach our children. After all, nobody wants to raise spoiled selfish brats. Unfortunately, sometimes, we do a better job of teaching it than we do acting it out.

Now, I am a big proponent of sharing. I love sharing. When Renee and I go out to eat, we make sure to get something that the other person wants too so that we can share. What’s more, I live in a community house, a house that was so inspired by this passage that we try to live it day to day by sharing our food, our living space, our personal lives, and our feelings. Yes even our feelings. Once a week we get together and go around the room sharing what is going on with us personally. We provide support for each other and togetherness. Living in community is not always equal and it is not always fair, but it is always shared.

So yes, I love sharing. But this passage is about more than just sharing a sushi roll over dinner or talking about feelings. Remember lives are at stake here. I think taking this story and trying to tell it as a tale of economic morality takes away the deeper lessons that are implicit. By stopping at money we are only hitting the surface level. It would be like stating that Aesop’s Fables are just a bunch of nice stories about animals.

To find the real heart of this story, I think that we need to go back to the revelatory experience of the apostles. Remember that they are in this new time period. The old has passed away and they are living in the new. What was important in the old life, freedom from occupation, gaining wealth and power, being religiously obedient to the chief priests and elders has all become secondary. In its place are the teachings of Jesus. The power of the resurrection. Gaining equality. Healing the sick.  Giving hope to the hopeless. Spreading a message of love and forgiveness.

It certainly was not easy for these early believers. They realize early on that if they are going to do this they are going to have to rely on two very important things: faith in God and unity with each other. And I am talking about a kind of grand encompassing unity. The kind of unity that the psalmist wrote about in Psalm 133. This psalm has such a beautiful message. In it the psalmist describes unity as something that is as precious as sacred oil.  It is a unity that spreads like a flood going all the way from Mount Hermon to Zion, which, for those of you not up on your Biblical geography is a really, really long way. This unity is blessed, it is abundant and it is sacred. This is what the apostles were trying to achieve.

And to do that they had to give up a piece of themselves.  Sure we can cite land and possessions as what they gave up, but that is just a small indication of how the Spirit moves them in this new life. They have seen the sacrifice that Jesus made and seen what it takes to be committed to this new way of being. It takes giving up a piece of themselves in order to make the greater whole strong.

It is like links in a chain. If you have a bunch of separate links unconnected then the chain is not going to be very effective. It is only by the links giving up a bit of themselves and creating space, that they can be connected to one another, and once together, the chain becomes strong.

And this is where we enter the story. This is where we can see our place in the tale. For we too are seeking a greater unity. What are you holding onto today that is keeping you from achieving this great unity in your life? Unity with your spouse, family, loved ones, or church? What is the space that you are refusing to yield so that you can be a part of the chain?

Perhaps you are holding onto the need to be right. This can be a very difficult one to let go. Being right is so great. But it is also alienating. If you are right, and you know the kind of right I am talking about, then that means that someone else is wrong, or at fault, or to blame. There is a marriage therapy quote that says that you can be right or happy. Often you cannot be both. How much could be achieved if you gave up the need to come out on top? What kind of connection could you make if you did not have to be insistent on being right.

Perhaps you are holding onto worry. Anyone ever worry, concern yourself about something that has not even happened yet. Here’s a little poem for you...

A bit of worry I suppose,

Will keep you up on your toes.

But too much and you will find,

You will almost lose your mind.

Worries isolate us. They put us in our head and keep us from trusting those around us to support us. They can also get in the way of our relationship with God who we believe loves and cares for us. For those of you who cannot let your worries go, I invite you to do this little task. Carry a little book with you and any time you are worried about something, write it in the book. At the end of the week, look in the book and see how many of those things actually happened. I predict that you will find that it is a very small percentage. What would happen if you gave up some of these worries and united with those around you in trust and support?

         Perhaps you are holding onto grudges. Anyone have one of these? It is a great word that sounds like what it is: a big muddy thing that is hard to move. It can also be a great hindrance to unity. Marriages, families, friendships and even churches break up because people hold onto resentments that they can never get past. After all, anger is easy. Retribution is easy. But it is not fulfilling. In retribution there is no closure, no peace. Any reader of Batman can tell you that. Peace can only come through forgiveness. And this may be the hardest thing on the list. Forgiveness is difficult. But it is also liberating and not just for the one being forgiven, but for the one doing the forgiving as well. If the whole human race could live with the practice of forgiveness, think of how united we could be.

         So today I ask you, do you feel the kind of unity that the psalmist was speaking about all those years ago? If not, what’s holding you back? When the first century believers posed this question, the most obvious answer was their possessions. And we can choose to stop there. Or we can delve deeper and try to understand what was really going on with them in this story. They were not just giving up their stuff. They were giving up a piece of their lives. They gave of themselves for love, for equality, and for unity. Those are the true economics of Easter.   

Wilderness Sermon, by Chris.

Anyone remember the days of radio? Do you remember the show Dragnet? It started out as a radio program and then moved to TV and the movies. The main character Joe Friday was a police detective and was famous for his catch phrase. Anyone remember it? “Just the Facts Ma’am.” That’s right, No embellishments. No opinions. Just the facts. I think that Mark, our gospel writer this morning, would have appreciated Joe Friday. Mark writes this gospel in a Dragnet sort of way. Just the facts. Quick clean.

It starts with a Baptism. A humble quiet Jesus comes to his cousin, wild man John, and asks to be baptized. He then goes immediately into the wilderness for 40 days. He is tempted by Satan and waited on by angels. And at the end of the story he emerges and is ready to proclaim the good news, ready to bring about the kingdom of God. Quick simple. Just the facts. But if you are like me, it makes you wonder, what really happened in that wilderness?

The wilderness story is the one that begins our Lenten season. And like Lent, we could look at this story in many different ways. We could see it as a solemn time of reflection. We could see it as a time of deprivation and suffering. But I like to think of it as adventure. And when I think of adventure, I start getting the John Williams music in my head. (cue music). For those of you who do not know, John Williams who turned 80 this year, is a composer who has written just about every adventure movie score in the modern era. Superman, Harry Potter, Jaws, E.T., Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones and or course Star Wars. Basically, if you were going to have an adventure, you would want John Williams to write the music for it. When I hear it, I think of all of the great heroes that have had adventures before me. Heroes like Odysseus, Joan of Arc, and of course, Indiana Jones.

If you have ever read Joseph Campbell’s book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, you will know that many heroes follow the same path, what they call the hero’s journey. See if you think this matches Jesus’ adventures in the wilderness. The hero leaves home, goes into a place that he or she has never been, encounters many trials, gets help from unexpected places, and returns changed. I think, using this formula, we might delve deeper into Mark’s story and find the adventure of Lent.

The first stage of the hero’s journey is leaving home. Now home can be a literal home or it can be a figurative one. Most of the time it is both. Odysseus begins his journey on an island far away from the love of his family. Joan of Arc leaves her meager farm life to join the ranks of the French Army. And Indiana Jones is supposed to be a teacher, but you how often do you see him in a classroom. At the beginning of our scripture today it says that Jesus came from Nazareth which was his home. He leaves his place of upbringing to come and be baptized. But not by a rabbi. He goes to this wild man John who has been living out in the middle of nowhere eating honey and locusts. It was at the very least unconventional. So Jesus leaves his literal home, and the home of convention. But he goes a step further. He leaves civilization entirely and goes out into the wilderness. Mark writes that the Spirit drove him there. Well, the Spirit could not have picked a place more un-homey place.

This is the second phase of our hero’s journey, strange lands. The wilderness. Now some scholars think that the wilderness Jesus went to was a rocky region, but when I think of the wilderness I think of desert. Barren expansive desert like the one on the front of the bulletin. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the image of the wilderness. It is powerful and spiritual. The wilderness is a paradox. It is everything that is nothing. It is a place where people cannot be, and yet Jesus is there. It is a place that does not support life, and yet it fosters growth. It is special. That is why it is such a great image for the start of Lent. That is why it is such a good place to begin transformation. Think about it. In the wilderness there is no distraction. No development. There is silence. And there is also no judgment. No preconceived notion. No opinions. It is untouched. It simply is. On a spiritual level, this wilderness is a reflection of our inner selves. There is a place in us that seeks to do away with what has been built up. There is a place that seeks to put an end to judgment. An end to opinions, noise and clutter that fill up our souls. To get back to what is simple, what is purely ourselves. To simply be.

The wilderness is a tough place, no doubt. But on some level it has to be. If it were fertile, if it were habitable, if it were easy, then it would cease to be special. It would become like every other place and it would lose its purpose. It must remain tough in order to be true.

Lent is similar. It may be challenging, but that is what makes it special, set apart from the rest of the year. Lent affords us the opportunity to take a reflective journey, to evaluate from where we have come, where we are, and where we hope to go. Perhaps today you are dealing with great stress. This time is an opportunity to sit with it and transform it. Perhaps you are holding onto great anger. This is a time to reflect on where that anger comes from, acknowledge it and let it go. Perhaps there are struggles and fears that perplex you and keep you up at night. Lent is a time to face those fears, and overcome them. That is what we mean by transformation.

As you may have noticed, time in the wilderness is not all quiet and easy. At no point in the story does it say that Jesus was on vacation. Quite the contrary. It says that he was tempted by Satan. As if the wilderness itself wasn’t enough.

This takes us to the third part of the hero’s journey, trials. Without tests the hero cannot prove his worth. Odysseus had to resist temptation from the Sirens and take down the mighty Cyclops. Joan of Arc had to face the skepticism of her commanders not to mention the armies of the British. And Indiana Jones? Well, aside from a giant boulder chasing him, he has those pesky Nazis to deal with.

Jesus’s trial is the temptation by Satan. Now Luke and Matthew expand on the story with a bunch of details, but Mark keeps it simple. Just the facts ma’am. He simply says Jesus was tempted, which leaves us to wonder, what was so tempting? Was it the gift of cool satisfying water? Was it delectable morsels of delicious food? Certainly these would have been tempting after days living with nothing. But I think that something more crossed the exchange of Jesus and Satan.

I picture Jesus sitting alone in the rocky barren wilderness thinking about all that he was to accomplish. As his ministry unfolds before him, he starts to see the grandness of its scope and difficulty. All that he is to do and all that he is to be begins to appear insurmountable. Perhaps a bead of fearful sweat emits from his brow. And at the moment Satan appears with a great offer. Satan says to him, “Just forget about it. Give up. Nobody is making you do this. You really do not have to.”

Have you ever faced this? I call it the give up voice. When something gets a bit uncomfortable or difficult it pipes up. “Hello? Yes, it is me, the voice of ease. What you are doing is too hard. Stop now, okay.” For some of us, Lent represents more than a time of reflection. It represents difficulty. It is hard to look at ourselves. It is hard to make the changes that we need to make in order to become the people we are meant to be. The give up voice says, “Ugh, forget this. Just wait until Easter when everything is cheery and white.” The journey through the wilderness and the journey through Lent is a time of talking back to that voice, telling it that we are going to go ahead and persevere. To create transformation, we have to begin with perseverance. That is the reaction Jesus has to Satan. He does not give up. He does not give in. That is what makes him the hero of the adventure.

Though we often associate the time in the wilderness as alone time, the text does mention that there is some company. It says that angels waited upon him. The fourth stage in our hero’s journey is one marked by spiritual helpers. Odysseus gets a boost from some of the gods like Athena who is his biggest fan, and Hermes who comes to get him off of the island. Joan of Arc famously had visions of Saints guiding her in France’s conquest. And Indiana Jones is aided by the magical and mysterious artifacts that he finds. Jesus has angels waiting on him. Again Mark is sparse in his description, but I think that this was more than just some heavenly room service.

Whatever the purpose of the angels, we can assume that they were caretakers. This is an encouraging detail because it reminds us that we are not completely alone on our spiritual journey. Though we must face our temptations and our trials ourselves, there is assistance to provide care and help if we need it. Angels are everywhere. This is obvious to anyone who has been through serious illness or grief in this church. It never ceases to warm my heart at the outpouring of support that people offer one another. Like angels in the desert they come, providing food, support, companionship, and even just a hug. There are angles in the face of adversity. Mark knew it, and I know it too.

Another detail worth mentioning is that the angels come after the temptation with Satan. Like in the hero’s journey, there are trials before there are helpers. The angels are not there to make everything easy. They are there to assist when things get too difficult. It says that they provide care, not answers. That is something only the hero can discover when they overcome the trials set before them.

The last stage of the hero’s journey is the return. The hero does not stay on this journey forever. The tests and temptations result in a breakthrough that creates the person that they always knew that they could be. Like the butterfly that emerges from the cocoon, they return home to show their true self to the people that they left. Odysseus returns to his wife a changed man, Joan of Arc returns to stand trial as an empowered and invigorated woman, and Indiana Jones? Well, he begins his journey as an atheist, but does not end it that way. At the end of the Mark passage today, Jesus returns from the wilderness with a definitive proclamation, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’ Now, does this sound like someone who is trying to discover himself? No, of course not. This is not the same man that was quietly seeking Baptism from his cousin 40 days earlier. He has persevered through hardship. He has resisted the temptation to give up. He has been transformed. Before the people stands a fully realized person ready to begin his ministry and be an example to all.

For those of us take this journey into the wilderness there is great potential for transformation. How will you emerge from the end of Lent this year? Will you risk transformation? Will you venture into the wilderness and dare to look into yourself? Will you face your fears and your dreams with the potential to be what God truly wants you to be? If you do, I warn you it will not be easy. You will face demons and trials. You will face temptation. You will face the give up voice. But if you persevere, if you dare to adventure, then you will tap into great potential. You will see yourself as God sees you. You will be a person that you were born to be. You can be the hero. If you believe you can, say amen.

God is my rock, by Greg

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

A part of me is up in eastern Washington state today ... later today members of the church I grew up in, along with most of the members of my own family, will be gathering to celebrate the life of a man who was the father of my best friend during my teen years.

Skip Arnold was a Rhode Island native who drifted West like so many others. He and his wife Shirley set up shop in the valleys east of Spokane, joined a church, started a family, made a life. It was midway through that story, in the early 70’s, that my family moved to Spokane Valley, joined the American Baptist church there, and met the Arnold family. It wasn’t long before Skip Jr., or “Skippy” as we always knew him, was one of my closest friends. I cannot even fathom the number of days and hours we spent together at his home or mine.

Big Skip, as Skip Sr. was always known, was a short, heavy barrel of a man, with a big heart, but a clear mind and a quick tongue. You really wanted to stay on Big Skip’s good side if you, as a squirrely young teenager, didn’t want a swift quick on the backside. He was a good and loving man, but he knew right from wrong and he wasn’t a bit shy to let you know what side of that equation he thought you were on. After my own father, I believe it would be fair to say that Big Skip was the most influential man of my teenage years.

Big Skip married a good hearted Rhode Island girl named Shirley and she became like a mother to me. She was as loving, sweet and kind as Skip was brusque. Until just a couple of years ago, we would always receive a long, kindly, hand-written Christmas card from Shirley telling how they were and asking how we were. It was that dreaded lung disease, pulmonary fibrosis, that robbed Big Skip of Shirley two years ago and not long after that, Big Skip suffered a stroke that made him a virtual prisoner in his own body ... and only last week was he finally granted an eternal parole from that dreaded confinement.

I’ve been mingling thoughts, this week, of Big Skip and the Psalmist’s deep, deep words of faith ... and I find myself wondering if anyone ever thought to read Psalm 62 to Skip as he lay in his bed ... wondering ... wondering what lay ahead ... wondering what his life meant ... wondering what his soul stood on in that “time between times”. Did anyone read these words to Skip and if they did, could he identify with the psalmist and did he find comfort and hope in these words from the psalmist’s heart?

For God alone my soul waits in silence,

for my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

Skip was never a man of “flowery” faith ... he was a bull of a man who worked with his hands and his sweat and the strength of his broad back. As with so many families, Shirley was the more spiritually effusive of the two. Skip’s faith was sunk deeper, you might say ... buried deep in the bedrock of his person. It might help to know that Skip was a “driller and blaster” ... it was his vocation to operate mighty pneumatic drills that bored into solid rock where charges of dynamite could be planted so that a way could be made for roads. There probably aren’t many men alive, except for Skippy who is also a driller and blaster, who’ve worked their way into more acreage of solid rock than Big Skip. If ever there was a metaphor for the solid, grounding reality of the heart of the universe, a metaphor for God’s own being, it was “rock” and I think it was in that “rock” that Skip found his footing and his grounding. And I have to think that in these last few years when his earthly soul had little else in which to find joy or meaning, that the God who was in his soul’s bedrock never let him down, was a firm and reliable place to live and, finally, to die.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

The potential deep comfort of these words to someone at the end of their rope seems obvious. When there is nothing left to hold on to, we can at least hold on to God ... and in that time between times we are graced to discover that God is enough. (HWS)

If you are here this morning, it is because you have thus far been spared the horror and indignity of being bedridden and incapable of self-care. To one degree or another, we who are present today continue to enjoy a good measure of independence and health—all in all, life is still good.

But we live in uncertain times in an uncertain world. And who among us will bet the family farm on that “uncertainty” changing in any foreseeable future? As long as this planet’s population keeps growing, and as long as this planet’s resources remain finite, and as long as this planet’s wealthier and more powerful inhabitants refuse to invest their best energies and thinking and resources in creating a world where children are no longer born into hunger and fear ... as long as these things remain true, uncertainty will be our truest certainty. That’s the world I was born into ... that’s the world I live in now.

That is not to say that I have or we have given up on the world and given up our hope for the world. Not by a long, long shot. Not while I have breath and, I hope, not while you have breath. But it is to say that we perceive the world and our lives within it with few delusions, which is, I think, the healthiest and most honest way to live within the world ... if not the craziest. But we also live within the world as followers of Jesus, another clear-eyed soul who loved the world he lived in. And if we wish not to be crushed by the concerns of the world while working hopefully on behalf of the needs of the world ... well ... we’d better be grounded in some pretty solid stuff. We’d better know where to stand and on whom to stand.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

So ... what are you standing on?

What are you grounded in?

What gives you strength?

What gives you hope?

Where do you stand when storms come and storms blow?

What is saving you now?

What does it mean to bore down into the rock? What does it mean to be “anchored” in that which is undeniably deep and firm and trustworthy?

Last week we spoke of the din and distractions of the holiday season and so much of life that makes it hard to “hear” the still small voice that can whisper our true name and speak peace to our souls. It is a parallel thought to say that that same holiday season that also symbolizes materialism at its worst ... the avalanche of stuff that buries us ... preoccupies us ... impoverishes us ... and whets our appetites for even MORE stuff. It seems to me that the shallower the human soul and spirit gets, the greater the need for stuff to make up for the lack of depth and meaning that stuff just can’t provide. There is a hunger and anxiety that seems palpable in our world and in people who surround us that is easily exploited for a profit.

I was with my pastor friend, Katie Choy-Wong recently, and she told of her recent sabbatical travels to China, to the village from her family came to this country several generations ago. She said that the region where her family came from use to be all farms, nothing but farmland ... and now, she says, it is only factories as far as the eye can see ... factories that churn out the junk that you and I are so desperate to have. I know that when I get home, I’m going to hear a wail of woe and despair from my lifemate.

At their worst, our human lives become littered on the surface with such a depth of debris and detritus and distractions that there’s little hope of finding anything solid underneath on which to stand. All this, you understand, from someone whose desktop, at its worse, can look like the county landfill.

When the earth shakes us ... when changing life circumstances shake us ... when crumbling economies shake us ... when failure of family or friends shake us ... when our health or lack thereof shakes us ... where do you stand? Can you find the rock of your salvation? Have you got a firm place to put your feet ... and your faith?

And if a thick layer of “stuff” can keep us from finding firm footing, from finding the rock of our salvation ... what does anxiety and fear about the future do for our rock-finding?

I am of the age when AARP starts stuffing your mailbox with their repulsive membership cards and come-ons for their magazine. Come on, I say, I still think of myself as a somewhat older, but still young, young adult. Retirement and all that that entails is still off on some impossibly far off horizon ... isn’t it? Isn’t it???

Well OK ... so it isn’t. A recent evening found us sitting with Dana Murphy at a teacher’s retirement seminar ... at Ruth’s Chris steak house of all places—but it was a lovely dinner ... and hosted by an insurance company who wants to help you buy ... assurance ... freedom from anxiety and fear, right? ...

One of the most remarkable changes in our culture is the emergence of the whole world and culture of retirement. And it is, at its root, grounded in the specters of anxiety and uncertainty and fear. For those who will soon plunge headlong into retirement ... how much is enough? How long will I live? Have I saved enough? Will I have healthcare? Will I be a burden to my children? Will I be alone?

There’s really something here terrifically at odds with what used to be conventional thinking about facing the future. Now we face the future with faith ... aaaaand a WHOLE LOT MORE ... Our whole culture is obsessed with “securing the future” ... selling our souls, nearly, to make sure we are comfortably and predictably ushered into our infirm years and, finally, into the grave. No shocks ... no surprises ... nothing but safety and security. I’m having trouble putting my finger on this, but there seems to be something almost nihilistic about this. It’s like slowly increasing the level of barbiturate until we gently fade from the scene. I think we should acknowledge that there is a whole massive industry whose sole purpose, nearly, is to terrify us with haunting visions of impoverished golden years where you are kept alive with food stamps and the E.R. room of the county hospital. “Dear friend,” the retirement counselor says to you with a heavy hand on your sagging shoulder, “no price is too high to avoid such a specter.”

But ... but ... my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress;

I absolutely know that our stuff cannot give us life or save us ... and I doubt the ability of even the best “securities” portfolio to give us the security and peace that our souls most crave in uncertain times ... a security and peace that cannot be shaken by a shaky world economy.

So ... what are you standing on?

What are you grounded in?

What gives you strength?

What gives you hope?

Where do you stand when storms come and storms blow?

What is saving you now?

What does it mean to bore down into the rock? What does it mean to be “anchored” in that which is undeniably deep and firm and trustworthy?

Skippy—my friend Skip Jr.—said on the phone last night about his mom—who died two years ago—that she’d spent her whole life getting ready for the place he now imagines her in. That’s not an articulation or understanding of what’s beyond this life that all of us here would use or share—though some would ... but in this life while she lived it, that simple, sturdy, resilient faith of Shirley’s never failed her, never let her down, always upheld her even as her health failed and the end of her life on this earth drew near. And I trust and pray the same was true for Big Skip, may he rest in God’s good peace. Simple faith ... and .... simple trust.

For God alone my soul waits in silence,

for my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

Perhaps it should be said that this sense of grounding ourselves in God’s bedrock is not for everyone ... perhaps not even everyone here—whether it is that we doubt the nature of the rock, or doubt ourselves to be able drill into it—our strength or our ability or our “faith”. Or perhaps such an understanding of God smacks of a simple-minded piety that you have spent the bulk of your adult life evolving beyond ... or fleeing. Maybe we’ve just become too sophisticated and urbane to do anything more than wistfully wish we still had our drills and the faithful courage to use them.

Perhaps we should turn the image around ... perhaps we are the nearly impenetrable rock and God is the gently dripping water that slowly bores God’s way into us ... if we will allow it ... if we will not shield ourselves from God. When I am hiking in the high sierra, one of the phenomena at which I most marvel is where water has run across the high mountainous granite slabs for eons ... carving straight and curving channels, sculpting circular bowls of all sizes, shaping and reshaping the solid bulk of the mountain. Time and persistence make the granite, to the patient water, like clay. And so it is for the one who will simply wait upon God ... for God to do with us and for us what God will do ...

For God alone my soul waits in silence,

for my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

People of Shell Ridge, wait upon God ... trust in God ... be rooted and grounded in God even as God seeks to be rooted and grounded in you.

Amen.