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1 John 4:7-21

“What is Love?”

            What is love?  This is indeed a question of the ages.  Philosophers, poets, songwriters, and artists have spent an eternity trying to contain, define, and explain it. The Greeks broke it into 4 categories – the unconditional agape, the passionate and romantic eros, the loyalty of family and friends found in philia, and the love of affection – like parents to children in storge.  However, like many things in life, if you ask children to tell you what love is, you get a great glimpse into what it might really be all about.   This week, I took advantage of having some great children on site and went down the hall to ask some of our pre-schoolers to tell me what love is.  The most common answer was “when someone hugs you.”  Two friends looked at each other and giggled and said, “when we knock each other on the ground because we are playing so hard.”  One defined love as a new truck for his mother, and another little boy held his hands up, fingers cupped, into the shape of a heart.  While these are great answers, some of my favorite answers came from children I have never met: 

 “When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.  You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.”  Billy, age 4

“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip of it before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK”  Danny, age 7

“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.”  Mary Ann, age 4.

“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.”  Karen, Age 7.

 

            Love is the topic of today’s letter found in 1 John.  This love is not about puppies and sips of coffee; the love John writes about is God’s love for us and for the world.  Today’s passage answers the question:  what is love?  In our reading we find the answer:  God is love.  We see who God is, how God chooses to be seen and known, how we are strengthened and empowered to do God’s work, and what work it is that God has for us (Self, 471).  Going back to the Greek ideas about love, it is the word agape that John uses to describe God as love.  This word describes an unconditional love that gives without expecting or demanding anything in return.  At the heart of the truth about God is this, “the love of God is given to humans in human form, in the person of Jesus, the Son of God.  God loves us and sent the Son, person, as the word of love, the sign of love, the living love of God given in the flesh to human beings.  So, if God loves us, then we must love one another in the same way.”  These words of Claudia Highbaugh are our guide as we walk through our reading from today.  God is love, and that love is visible -  through Jesus Christ – mutual and all encompassing, and calls us to serve others.

            “Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening the presents and listen.”  Bobby, age 7.  Love begins with Christmas.  It is in the incarnation, the birth of the Christ child that we see what God’s love looks like.  We don’t have to guess, we don’t have to wonder, we don’t have to question.  We know.  We know that God came down to us as a baby, who grew up and died for us.  Each year we re-live the delivery of God to us when we light candles and sing Silent Night.  As a community, we have watched God act in love, reaching out to those who were sick, outcasts, unclean and touching them.  Together we stand at the foot of the cross on Good Friday and watch God’s love for us play out in suffering and death.  We hold our breath on Saturday when we can no longer see it, feel it, or believe it.  And then, we are transformed by the presence of the love that is stronger than death and will never leave us.  Because we can see what God has done for us in Jesus Christ, we can see God’s love for each and every one.  I love what Pastor William Self says about this:  “we cannot escape the fact that we learn who God is by what God does.  No love, no Gospel.” (Self, 469).  Sit with that for a moment – no love, no Gospel.  No love, no atonement for sin.  No love, no hope.  No love, no grace.  God’s love for us has been made known in a specific person, in the Son who was sent by God.  Love is what God has done for us on our behalf in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

            “If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend you hate.”  Nikka, age 6.  God’s love for us, and the love God calls us to share, is a love that is mutual and all encompassing.  Listen again to verses 20-21:  Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love a God whom they have not seen.  The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.  Sometimes, loving God is the easy part.  To love one who is mysterious, far away and perfect is much easier than to love someone you know deeply and is right in front of you, imperfections and all.  It is easier to love the One who is unflawed than to love one another in our daily flawed states.  But, God loves each of us unconditionally, and we are to do the same for others.  Yes, Nikka’s words speak a hard truth to us – “if you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend you hate.”  We are challenged with this text to face the truth that we cannot claim we love God and not love each other.  And, “each other” has a broad meaning here.  John is not only talking about only the people in the pews next to us, or those who are at work or school with us.  John is not only talking about the folks who are in our city or state.  This is the big “Each Other” – capital E capital O – when we are called to love each other, we are called to love all of God’s children.  And that can be really, really hard to do.  It is hard to love those who are angry, or make us angry.  Those who cause conflict.  Those who do not see eye to eye with us.  Those who are hurtful.  It can be hard to love those we think are wrong.  And yet, here we are – called to do it.  What does that look like – to love the one you hate?  It looks like a paradox, for it cannot be done.  We have to set aside our hate and find another way.  We have to allow the love of God in Christ to have room to transform us. 

            That’s scary.  It is scary to ask God to change us, and it is scary to admit that perhaps some of our unloving-ness comes from a place of fear.  We are afraid of what we don’t know – we are afraid of new things and experiences.  Not all of us all the time, but sometimes.  There are times when I am unable to show love, and many times it is because I am afraid.  We create divisions out of fear – divisions of who is acceptable and who is not.  Divisions between countries and parties and generations and classes.  We create divisions so that we can stay safe from hurt or harm that might come from being different.  The fear that creates divisions creates in us an inability to see past them and to just love each other.  When we read the letter for today, we are called to set aside fear and share love as an act of courage.  Perfect love casts out all fear, verse 18 reads, and so we are called to trust that the love of God is stronger than the fears we may have.  Even love that is imperfect drives out fear.

            One of those statistics that I have heard so many times that it may not be actually true is that at some point in time, public speaking was one of the number one fears in America.  Have you ever had to participate in public speaking or performance?  Were you scared?  How did you overcome that fear?  When asked about love, Cindy, age 8 said this:  “During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared.  I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.  He was the only one doing that.  I wasn’t scared anymore.”  Love casts away fear.  And when fear is cast away, we can embrace what we once feared, and see that it may indeed be lovable.  Professor David Bartlett, from Columbia Seminary, tells this story: “A small child received a jack-in-the-box for Christmas one year.  As he turned the handle and the puppet popped out, the child was not delighted, as his parents had hoped, but terrified.  However, the child was not completely overcome with fear.  Once again, he turned the handle as the notes of “Pop Goes the Weasel” played from the box.  This time when the puppet popped out, the child kissed the puppet he had once feared.  The boy was far from fearless.  But, by loving, he was able to put fear in its proper place.” (workingpreacher.org, Lectionary for May 10, 2009).  When love casts out fear, when we can look beyond what we are afraid of, then we can love others as God loves us – without condition.  From there we can respond to the call to love one another and serve them.

            God did not love us abstractly, poetically, metaphorically.  God did not just say, “I love you” and leave it at that.  God acted.  God still acts.  Love acts and redeems.  It is love that atoned for us, it is love that redeemed us.  And it is love that calls us to do the same to others.  To not simply speak our love, but to act it.  This letter can make us certain of God’s love for us, and from that love comes a call to action, a call to love others.  It has been said that to truly know the love of God is to live the love of God. 

 

“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore.  So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too.  That’s love.”  Rebecca, age 8.       

What actions of yours reflect the love of Christ that you have been given?  Beloved, how do we love one another?  How do we love the world?  How do we love those who betray, deny, anger, and hurt us?  For this is the logical conclusion we can draw when reading today’s passage — God is love, and made that love known to us through the redemptive work of Jesus Christ.  We know what God is like because of Jesus.  And we love because God loves us.  We love those we fear, because it is the love of God that casts out all fear and allows us to open ourselves to transformation.  We see Christ, and we see those we are called to love actively – not as a concept, but as working with our hearts and hands and feet.  Love is saying you are sorry, love is sitting with someone at a homeless shelter and offering them a meal.  Love is having a conversation with someone you fundamentally disagree with and being open to hear what they have to say rather than trying to convince them to change their minds.  Love is a relationship, and is hard work.  However, love is the work we are called to do.  All of our mission, our outreach, our service, and our worship – inside these doors and out in the world comes because we know that we are beloved by God and our best response is to live out that love and give it to others.

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it.  But, if you mean it, you should say it a lot.  People forget.”  Jessica, age 8.  Including the scripture, the title, and this sentence, you have heard the word ‘love’ 140 times this morning.  It is a word we need to hear – the word that we can never get beyond.  God’s love is stronger than any of the forces on earth – including death.  That is a word we can hear over and over and over again.  The good news of this lesson for today is the gospel of God’s love for us in Christ – and that is news that bears repeating time and time again.  We never grow beyond our need to hear those words and to live them out.  You, each and every one of you, is loved by God with a love so deep and unconditional that it defies definition.  It cannot be explained, but is seen in Jesus Christ. It is who God is, how God chooses to be seen and known, and how we are strengthened and empowered to do God’s work (Self, 471).   How does that love move through you and propel you to love others?  In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Rev. Julie A. Jensen

FPC Cartersville, GA

May 6, 2012

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There is an intersection here in town that I pass through at least twice a day, if not more.  It is the corner of Bartow and Main Streets (where Etowah drive splits off).  On one corner is the police station, opposite that is First Presbyterian Church (my church).  Working our way around are the Shaw-Hankins offices, and then Regions Bank. It is a slice of our city that is almost always humming with activity.  In a study done several years ago, 940 18 wheelers passed through that stoplight on any given day.  And it has become a new place for me to pray.

I blame our Sunday School class for this practice.  We are studying a book called “Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in our Everyday Lives” by Wayne Muller.  We are reading about, talking about, and trying new practices of Sabbath-making each week.  And about 3 or 4 weeks ago, we read the practice of offering “guerrilla blessings.”  The idea is to bless people around you, unaware.  Maybe you do it at the grocery store while you wait in line, maybe you do it at a soccer game.  One class member is doing it in the car-rider pick up line at the primary school.  I decided to do it in a place where I often find myself antsy or frustrated (because I am usually late when I get stopped by the red lights here.).  ”May you be blessed, may you feel peace” runs through my head as I look at each car, each driver.  ”May you be safe, may you be calm” is my silent whisper to the police cars.  ”May you learn and may you grow” is sent from my heart to the school busses as they zoom by.  And, as I look to my right and see the church office with the staff cars out front, I send a prayer to their drivers, and to our church family, as well.

I now enter this intersection grateful for the red lights (well, more often than not.).  I picture the intersection as a “God Zone” where all who pass through are covered in prayer.  May you know peace, safety, learning, comfort, joy.  In all of this, I have found a space for God to enter into my day – it is a gateway to the day – a prayer for what will come.  On the way home it is the place I leave the worries of my heart that keep me up at night.  ”May you be happy, may you know peace.”  It is almost impossible to be frustrated with the driver in front of you who is going straight (and you want to turn right) while you are praying for them.  It is almost impossible to roll your eyes at the driver who makes an illegal turn when you are praying that they will be safe.  And when you se a police officer and pray for them to have a day that is free from harm, it is hard to speed.

I thought this practice was crazy.  I thought I was crazy for trying it.  I was wrong.  In the middle of a busy day, when I would not otherwise stop, God enters in and turns my attention our community, to the people in my neighborhood, and to God.  Somehow, that does not seem so crazy after all.   May you know happiness, may you know peace.

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Many, many thanks to Emily for her help with this one!

Mark 11:1-11

Sermon Series:  Crown of Thorns, Crown of Glory #6

Hope Among the Thorns

I had an interesting experience this week – a friend of mine who did not grow up in a church community asked me to tell her about Palm Sunday.  She had been invited to attend a worship service, and did not know what to expect.  As I started to explain a little bit about why Palm Sunday is a special day for us, I realized that I have a good perspective from which to tell the story – I know how it ends.  Not just what happens when Jesus enters Jerusalem, but what also occurs on Thursday night, Friday during the day, and the final surprise on Easter Sunday of the empty tomb.  The natural place to begin any explanation of Palm Sunday is with the parade – that is how we mark this day in our church.  The children process with Palms, and we sing “All Glory Laud and Honor” and feel celebratory.  It was not until the last 20 years or so that churches have made a shift to include the telling of the Passion story on this Sunday as well.  As more and more people were not able to attend worship on Thursday night or Friday at noon, the churches realized that we need to share the whole story of what happened that week on a single Sunday, so that we can truly celebrate on Easter.

            And it all starts with a parade.  A parade that is thrown by Jesus and the disciples.  The Disciples think they are doing something to honor Jesus.  They retrieve the colt from the place where Jesus said it would be, and they take it to him.  They prepare for the pageantry to enable Jesus to ride into town like the majesty and royalty that he is, in their opinion.  Think of the parades you remember…I remember being in college and watching the Homecoming parade from the front porch of my dorm.  What an event!  You can feel the excitement in the air during a parade.  That gorgeous fall afternoon, the crowds were just as excited as the marchers.  We cheered on the band and applauded when people we knew came by.  The same thing happens here during the annual Christmas Parade.  Not only are those riding on floats having fun, but those lining the route are also integral to the event.  We add to the atmosphere with our chatter and cheering.  We dance with the band and run out to catch candy that is tossed through the air, or handed out to small waiting hands.  A parade without anyone along the route to witness it would be boring.  A parade without anyone to enjoy the music and the ticker-tape, without anyone to comment on which float they like, or without anyone to enjoy the creations and the candy would be a huge let down. 

Parades have a long history of being held to honor celebrities and royalty.  But before the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, complete with gianormous balloons, Broadway performers and marching bands…. Before the Rose Festival parade with floats covered with flowers and elements of nature… before the parades and processions of modern time that mark military victories, welcome presidents and dignitaries, or celebrate winning sports teams – before those parades, there was a different kind of parade.  In the time of Jesus, parades were used as a military tactic.  The procession of people was a way to show military might and strength, a way to show who was in charge, how many soldiers he had to support him, and to honor the leader of an empire. 

            So it would make sense that Jesus’ followers throw him a grand parade.  In their minds, he is coming to overthrow the military and political government.  It makes sense that he would come in glory, and they want to see that.  The crowd is involved, as all good crowds are.  They come out and see Jesus riding by on a colt.  They throw their cloaks down on the parade route – perhaps to cushion the ride?  As he approaches, the people who were gathered harvested leafy branches from the trees of the field and wave them in honor of Jesus.  As he comes closer, they cry out, “Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Blessed is the coming of the kingdom of our ancestor David!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!”  They cry out loudly and excitedly.  They are welcoming their king – the one for whom they are waiting!

            But if you look closely, you see that this is not a normal parade.  Today is not the day we will talk about the crown of glory as a contrast to the crown of thorns we have been wearing during this Lenten season – that exchange happens later.  This parade is not the grand military procession we sometimes imagine it was.  In this parade, Jesus flips the whole notion of a military parade upside down onto its head.  By entering Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, he rides through the worst parts of town.  The parts of town where the down and out live, where there is more rubbish in the streets than palms.  He rides through the tenements and past hovels, not through areas of fancy houses and monuments.  His colt is just a baby, and so Jesus is not elevated above the crowd looking down on them, which he would be on a full grown horse.  Instead, his feet drag the ground and he looks the people in the eye as he rides past.  This parade was planned and organized, and expected to be similar to the military parade a leader may participate in.  However, there are no armies proceeding and following Jesus.  There are no tanks or Humvees demonstrating his might and power.  He is not wearing the uniform of a military leader with spit-shined boots and a chest full of ribbons.  Jesus rides into town unarmed with twelve dusty disciples as his only escorts.  He is not coming as one who will overtake with violence, but rather as one who will experience it first hand when it is done to him.

            What happens when the parade ends?  When the colt is returned home, when the palm fronds are swept up by the street sweepers and the cloaks are returned to their owners or trampled into the dust?  What are we to do then?  We are called to keep following Jesus past the end of the route.  For this is the week when the crown of thorns grows heavy.  There is a cost to following Jesus down the road after the parade.  The cost of knowing that he participates in our place.  That in these experiences of this week, we can know that he has known more than we will ever have to endure.  Jesus enters Jerusalem and the status quo flips.  We have spent the Lenten season examining the thorns that make up the crown, and the first thorny branch woven into the crown is the one that pricks us when we realize the cost of following.  When we realize that we contribute to the pain as our Hosannas turn into cries demanding death.  And yet we must follow.

            We follow him to the Upper Room, where the one who we serve serves others.  We watch as Christ breaks bread and offers the cup one last time.  He bends down low and washes the feet of those who are present.  In that act, we begin to feel the thorns of grief and loss intertwining into our crown.  We feel his impending absence as the tenebrae candles are extinguished and the night grows dark.  We know that the one who serves us will die for us.  And we continue to follow.

            We follow him to the garden.  We watch through the bushes and from behind trees as he prays to God, asking to be relieved of this burden.  We watch as he cries out to God, and as he is betrayed by one of his own with a kiss.  The thorns of betrayal pierce our skin, as we watch the ultimate betrayal in front of our own eyes. 

            From the garden we follow him to the city.  It is there that he will be questioned by the high priest and the council.  They do not know what they are doing, they do not know why.  As we listen to the trial, we wonder what we might be tried for, what we might be held accountable for at a future date.  We examine the thorns that were already present in our lives.  The crown grows heavier.

            It is when we follow him to the courtyard that the thorns of rejection are added to the crown we wear.  Jesus is mocked and beaten, and we refuse to save him.  Instead we call for his death and the salvation of a common criminal.  We reject the one who loved us.

            With heavy hearts, we follow to the hill.  The hill where he is hung on a cross and crucified.  The crown is complete.  And as he is on the cross, when the sky grows dark and the temple curtain is torn, the crown is lifted from our head and placed on his.  And it is finished.

            We followed him to the end.  The body is placed in a cave and the stone rolled in front.  He gave his life for us, and now, now the crown of thorns become the crown of glory. The glory we find in an empty tomb on Easter morning.  The glory of knowing that the parade was only the beginning, and that glory is not found where we thought it would be found, but in a man who died and was risen.    The hope we find in the thorns is not a thorn, but in the knowledge that Jesus will overcome them all, and bring us out on the other side. 

            On Palm Sunday, we are called to celebrate our only hope.  As is says in Psalm 118, “God is good and God’s love endures forever.”  This week, when the celebration abruptly turns to anguish, when the echoes of “All Glory Laud and Honor” are drowned out by the notes of “Were You There” we can find our certainty and our hope in the one in whose death we participate.  In the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we find our hope for life here, and for eternal life.  We celebrate today to remind ourselves of the words that will offer us comfort throughout this Holy Week — Christ is our only hope.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Rev. Julie Jensen
First Presbyterian Church, Cartersville, GA
April 1, 2012

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John 11:17-37

¹⁷When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. ¹⁸Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, ¹⁹and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. ²⁰When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. ²¹Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²²But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” ²³Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” ²⁴Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” ²⁵Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, ²⁶and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” ²⁷She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” ²⁸When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” ²⁹And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. ³⁰Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. ³¹The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. ³²When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

³³When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. ³⁴He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” ³⁵Jesus began to weep. ³⁶So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” ³⁷But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

 

Series: Crown of Thorns, Crown of Glory #3

“Thorns that Come with Loss”

            It has been said that “the road to Easter leads through a cemetery.”[1]  As we continue on our Lenten journey, we are examining the experiences that the leads us through — the thorns in our crown that prick us as we move towards Easter.  The examination of our own sinfulness and hardships in life is accompanied by the knowledge that Jesus makes this journey with us.  His suffering was not limited to the cross, but also occurred on the way to it.  The last 2 weeks, Ted has looked at the first two thorns in the crown that we are weaving together this Lenten season – -the thorns that are the cost of following Jesus on this journey, and the thorn that is betrayal.  Today we will look at the thorns of grief and loss.  We will see how Jesus encounters grief and loss – both his own loss, and the loss for people he cares deeply about.  We will see that even in those times on the way to the cemetery, which is where part of our reading for today is set, Jesus is there, and offers the last word.  This is not the final cemetery of the Easter journey, but is the one that changes the direction of the Gospel story.  When the word of Lazarus’ death is spread, the Chief priests and the Pharisees decide to arrest and try Jesus, leading to the final cemetery before Easter.

            Our passage for today is part of a larger event.  I encourage you to take some time and read the entirety of John 11 to get a feel for the events that happen before and after our reading.  Jesus’ grief, and the grief of Mary and Martha, is part of a larger story that begins like this:  Lazarus, the brother of Mary and Martha was ill.  The sisters sent a message to Jesus to tell him this news.  Jesus replied that this was not an illness that would kill Lazarus, and he stayed where he was for two days.  Later, when Jesus tells the disciples that it is time to go to Bethany to wake Lazarus from sleep, they are concerned – -Jesus has already been threatened with death, and the disciples fear for his safety as he travels.  There also seems to be a miscommunication here- -the disciples think Lazarus is sleeping like we sleep at night.  Jesus corrects them – by sleep, he meant the big sleep – death.  Jesus has to spell it out for them, and it is Thomas – the one we give such a bad rap to when we call him “doubting Thomas” — who says that if Jesus is going to Lazarus, then they should follow.  “Let us go also, so that we may die with him,” says Thomas, and the group sets out for Bethany, despite the danger.  This leads into our reading for today.

            When Jesus arrives on the outskirts of Bethany he encounters something he may not have expected.  Martha is there to greet Jesus on the road, and her grief is evident.  She responds to Jesus with the emotions that accompany grief – anger, sadness, and, shock.  The first thing she says to Jesus is not, “thank you for coming” or “it is so good to see you.”  The first thing Martha says to Jesus is “if you had been here, my brother would not be dead.”  It can be a natural reaction to death – anger that someone is gone, or anger that the loss may have been prevented.  While the loss we see illustrated for us today is that of death, we will grieve other losses during our lives.  Perhaps there is the loss of a relationship due to divorce, separation, or a break-up.  There is the loss of a job – something that many of us have experience with ourselves, or through friends or family.  We even grieve the loss of our children as they grow up and become independent, moving out of childhood home and into adult lives.  As we age, there is a loss of independence that we must also face and deal with.  Loss is a common part of life.  And it is natural to respond to many of these losses with anger, and wanting to blame someone.  But what happens after the anger subsides?

            It is almost in the next breath, as soon as she has released her anger that Martha turns to her faith.  She says to Jesus, “even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.”  Even now – even though she is angry, Martha begins an affirmation of her faith.  Even through her grief, she believes.  The road to Easter goes through a cemetery and in Jesus we hear the words that often are said at funerals and burials:  “I am the resurrection and the life.  Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live – do you believe this?”

            Do you believe this?  What a question!  Do you believe this?  Martha’s answer is certain, unwavering, and strong.  “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”  In her grief, Martha has embraced her faith in the teachings of Jesus.  Now, Mary had a different reaction.  When Martha returns to tell her that Jesus is calling for her, Mary races out of the house.  The community that has gathered to mourn with the family follows, thinking she is going to Lazarus’ grave.  Mary kneels at the feet of Jesus and makes the same accusation as her sister: “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  And then she breaks down weeping.  The encounter between Mary and Jesus feels differently from the encounter between Martha and Jesus.  They begin with the same phrase, but then where Martha affirmed what she believed, Mary wept deeply and mourned for her brother, and those in her company wept also.  There is no explicit affirmation of faith from Mary – she is not able to articulate those words that brought comfort to her sister.

            What role does your faith in Jesus play when you face grief and loss?  Do you dig deeper into it, praying, reading your Bible, turning to God for comfort and support?  Do you reject God, reject the words of comfort and peace offered by those who know Jesus?  Do you greet loss with anger and question why God has done such a thing to you?  These are all normal reactions to a loss – maybe not all from the same person at the same time – but many of us experience some of these feeling where we encounter death and grief.  No matter the cause, or how we respond to it, the grief process is a way in which we have to “relearn the world” (Culberson 220).  When we face grief and loss, we face them in the same way we face the rest of our lives – if faith is our first response to the everyday, then that is where we lean.  Martha affirmed her faith in Jesus, and Mary was not in a space where she could do that yet.  Her reaction does not diminish her faith in Jesus, nor should we feel that we have fled our faith if we cry before we pray.  These women are examples of how loss shakes us to our core, and gives examples of two ways in which we might react.

            Notice though, that neither of them had to react alone.  Martha was in the company of Jesus when she grieved, and also had the companionship of her sister and the mourners who had gathered at the house to mourn with them.  Mary fled the house to find Jesus, followed by her friends.  Mary and Martha did not have to bear this loss alone, but had people who came to support them and carry them through.  United Methodist pastor Rev. Dr. Wyley Stephens describes the verses we hear today as happening in the “casserole time.”  The friends and neighbors, wanting to do something to help the grieving sisters have come with their casseroles and offers to help so that they do not have to mourn alone.  Yet even if no one had come to the door or followed Mary down the road, thinking they were going to grieve with her at the cemetery, the two would not have been alone. 

The thorns of grief and loss open up an opportunity for us to show compassion and love to those who are in the midst of them.  We see this compassion in Jesus when he responds to Mary with the realization that he too has suffered a loss.  Verse 35, in the King James translation, is one of the shortest verses in the Bible: “Jesus wept.”  In encountering the grief of Mary and Martha for their brother, Jesus also grieves.  Lazarus was not some guy he knew from a brief visit – -Lazarus was his friend.  They had worked together, broken bread together, spent time together.  Jesus lost a friend when Lazarus died.  He was brokenhearted as well.  When Mary begins to weep, when the mourners begin to weep, Jesus weeps too.  He weeps for his own loss, he weeps for their loss, he weeps in solidarity, and with compassion.  Jesus is right there with them experiencing his own grief, and crying with those who mourn Lazarus, just as he is with us when we grieve. 

I read this week about little boy who was sent by his mother to the corner store to buy some bread.  He was gone a lot longer than he should have been for this errand, and the mother began to worry.  Finally, when her son returned home, the mother asked, “where have you been?  I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“Well,” said the son, “there was a little boy with a broken tricycle who was crying.  I stopped to help him fix it.”

“I didn’t know you could fix tricycles!” exclaimed his mother.

“I can’t,” said the little boy.  “I don’t know how to fix tricycles, so I just stood there and cried with him.”[2]

Sometimes the compassionate response is to cry with one who is crying.  Jesus stood there and cried with Mary, Martha, and the mourners.  The road to Easter goes through Lazarus’ cemetery.  We know when we grieve that Jesus has grieved too.  When we cry, we know that he has cried.  When we affirm “I believe” we know he has done the same thing.  Just as we have broken hearts, so does Jesus.

But this is not the end of our story, nor is it the end of Lazarus’ story.  Our reading ends before the Good News.  Death does not have the last word – not for Lazarus and not for us.  Jesus and those who were with him that day go to the cemetery, and the stone is rolled away from the front of the grave.  Jesus calls for Lazarus to come out, and he does.  No longer dead, but living and breathing, and a little smelly.  Lazarus comes out, and in the next chapter, hosts a dinner party for Jesus.  The road to Easter leads through a cemetery, and in this cemetery, we find resurrection – a glimpse of what is to come.

Just as death does not have the last word for Lazarus, death does not have the last word for us, either.  Jesus was pricked by the same thorns of loss that prick all of us.  He grieved and grieves with us.  When our hearts are broken, so is his.  William Sloane Coffin knows of this heartbreak firsthand.  He was the pastor of Riverside Church in New York City, and in 1983 his son, Alex, was killed in a tragic car accident in Boston.  Ten days after Alex’s death, Coffin preached a sermon at Riverside entitled “Eulogy for Alex.”  He responds to those who offered him comfort by saying that Alex’s death  was “God’s will” with these words: “As his younger brother put it simply, standing at the head of the head of the casket at the Boston funeral, ‘You blew it, buddy.  You blew it.’  The one thing that should never be said when someone dies is that ‘it was the will of God.’  We never know enough to say that.  My own consolation lies in knowing that it was not the will of God that Alex die; that when the waves closed over the sinking car, God’s heart was the first of all our hearts to break.”[3]

God’s heart breaks first when we are pricked by the thorns of loss.  Jesus stands and cries with us when it is all we can do.  When we have to face the reality that our dead will not walk out of the tomb like Lazarus, when we close the coffin and bury the body, we are not alone.  Christ walked this road before us, and walks it with us.  But, we are Easter people.  During the season of Lent, Sundays are little Easters.  Each Sunday we remember the resurrection of Jesus and celebrate life.  Lazarus is a preview of coming attractions.  We are people who know the end of the story:  Lazarus’ story, Christ’s story, and our own story.  On our road to Easter, we will suffer the thorns of loss and grief.  Christ was there suffering there with us and for us, and it is in the end of the story where we can find hope and take comfort.  The economy, the divorce, the move, the loss, and the grief  - they do not have the final say.  Only Jesus has the last word and his words are words of hope for us.  Hear the words of Christ that, “those who believe in me, even though they die, will live” and believe them for yourself.  Amen.

Rev. Julie A. Jensen
March 11, 2012

First Presbyterian  Church, Cartersville

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[1] Rev. Dr. Wiley Stephens, Dunwoody United Methodist Church,  Dunwoody GA.  Sermon “The Road to Easter Runs Through a Cemetery” from Day1.org, April 10, 2011. 

[2] SermonCentral.com

[3] www.pbsnow.org.  Transcript: William Sloane Coffin’s Eulogy for Alex.

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2 Kings 2:1-14

Elisha’s Extreme Makeover

In 2003 a new show premiered called Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  In this series that just ended its 10 year run on ABC, deserving families were chosen to have their homes torn down and rebuilt into something new over the course of 7 days.  As the cameras rolled, properties were transformed from the sometimes uninhabitable or unsafe to beautiful and functional.  As Ty Pennington, the host of the show, and his crew called out  “Move that bus!” the family  caught their first glimpse of their new home.  Often there were tears of joy and surprise.  As we continue to watch, we realize that this makeover has not only changed the houses, but also transformed the lives of those who built and lived in them.

            Transformation is an interesting process.  Sometimes it happens suddenly – like an entire house being re-built in a week, and sometimes it happens over time.  The families who no longer had to worry about living in fear that their home would make them sick from mold, or worry about a disabled child who could not move around freely because the house was not accessible, were changed over time.  They eventually reached a place where rather than living fearful lives wondering what would happen next, they were free from constant anxiety.  While the physical transformation took 7 days, the spiritual and emotional took longer.

            Today’s readings are of a familiar transformation – -at least the New Testament reading is.  Each year on the Sunday before Lent we remember an event in Jesus’ life called the Transfiguration.  Jesus goes up to the mountain where he is changed before the eyes of Peter, James and John.  His clothes become dazzling white, and they know that they will never be the same.  As Jesus is shining in the sun, Elijah and Moses appear, and Peter offers to build them dwelling places so that they could stay on the mountain forever.  In this account we see parallels between  the lives of Jesus and Old Testament prophets Elijah and Elisha.  In Jesus, Elijah, and Elisha, we see individuals who were transformed into something new by God.  They were called to be prophets; to enter into reality and relationships with God’s people and to love them enough to tell them the truth about their condition.[1]  In order to do this, the three had to depend on God’s mercy and grace.

            In our reading for today, we see the transition of leadership from the prophet Elijah to the prophet Elisha.  Elijah’s ministry begins in 1 Kings.  Reading through that book, we see that he was indeed a prophet who communicated the message of God to the people.  He has lived a long life.  The first thing we are told today is that it is almost done – the Lord is about to take Elijah up into a whirlwind.  Elijah was not alone in his ministry.  He was accompanied by his student and servant Elisha. Elisha and Elijah traveled together – as Elisha learned from Elijah.  As Elijah’s time on earth draws to a close, Elisha is put into a place where he will continue the prophetic work of Elijah.  The student becomes the teacher, and the cycle continues.

            On this Sunday when we think about being transformed, we recognize that Elisha was transformed on his journey, just as Jesus was transformed.  Seeing their transformations allows us the space to see how God is at work transforming us.  Elijah, Elisha, and Jesus were all transformed by their journey, in a community, and through their vulnerability as they looked to God.

            It can sometimes feel clichéd to say that we are all on a journey, and that we will all be different when we reach the end than when we began, but like most clichés, there is a bit of truth to the statement.  The word “journey” can conjure up images of traveling from point A to point B physically – such as when we enter a destination into our GPS and head out on a road trip.  Thinking about journeys can also have us reflecting on our own lives, and our destination.  How often do we hear “it’s about the journey, not the destination”?  It is on the way that we are called to allow God to enter into our lives and change us, direct us to where our journey will end.  Elisha was changed along his journey.  He and Elijah wandered through the desert, stopping first in Gilgal, the place the Israelites camped after crossing the Jordan River, then to Bethel, the sacred spot where Jacob dreamed of angels.  Next they went Jericho, the site of the Israelite’s famous battle, and finally onto the Jordan River.  These significant places were not the site of Elisha’s transformation from student to leader.  That transformation happens at an in-between spot, in the middle of the desert, between places.  Elisha’s pivotal moment occurs not in a scheduled time at a scheduled stop, but as part of  the journey.  As we journey, how are we being open to God at work in us as people, and as a community of faith? 

            It is not just the journey that transforms Elisha, but also the company.  Elijah gives him three opportunities to leave and not have to witness Elijah’s departure.  Three times Elijah says to Elisha, “Stay here for the Lord has sent me to… Betehl, Jericho, the Jordan.”  And, three times Elisha says, “No.  As you live and as the Lord lives, I will not leave you.”  He is persistent and committed to seeing this journey to its end.  A company of prophets says to Elisha, “You know he is leaving today, right?” and Elisha answers, “Yes.  Be silent.”  Three times, in three places, prophets say to Elisha, “he won’t always be here – today is the day your life changes” and Elisha hears their words.  Perhaps he has to hear the words multiple times – -if he is being transformed on the journey, then the words will sound different to him each time he hears them.  In Bethel, perhaps they are a warning.  In Jericho, perhaps they sound like an opportunity to soak up all of what his teacher has to offer, and by the Jordan, perhaps they are lament.  How often do we hear the same passages of scripture over and over again, and receive them differently depending on what is happening in our own lives?  Elisha knows that he will not receive what he needs for his ongoing ministry until he reaches the end of Elijah’s journey, and so he stays.  While we may think of prophets as lonely, solitary figures, that is often not the case.  Elijah and Elisha are “bound to each other, to the larger band of prophets, and their families”.[2]  It is often the community of faith that equips us for our journey, through teaching, preaching, and support.  We gather in community to learn and worship and we come to be changed.  We come and acknowledge that if we will allow God to work in us, we will be transformed into something new.  Elijah and Elisha travel to the banks of the Jordan River, accompanied by fifty prophets.  The prophets keep their distance as Elijah strikes the water with his mantle and the waters part.  They are there as witnesses and as support.  When Elijah is taken away, the community is silent – they do not say anything, but are there to support Elisha on the next stage of his journey.  They witness  God  at work in Elisha, and support that transformation.  Elijah and Elisha are part of a larger community.  Jesus also was surrounded by a community in his ministry – he had disciples, friends, and followers.  He does not make his journey alone – even to the cross.  Jesus shows his followers and his community that he will have to fully rely on God, just as Elisha will have to have that same reliance on his journey.

            As important as the role of the community is in helping us see and articulate our transformations, there is also a space for transformation in vulnerability.  Being vulnerable is being open, exposed and susceptible.  The dictionary defines it as “being open to attack.”  The vulnerability we show during times of transformation is not a negative kind of vulnerability.  We are not open in fear, lonely, or exposed to the world.  The vulnerability we participate in as we are on our journey is one of being open, listening, and being exposed to the presence of God.  It is being sensitive to hearing God’s word to us, and susceptible to following it. 

Elisha is vulnerable here.  He has to open himself up to receive the work that God is doing in him to be able to watch Elijah ascend. Elijah has to admit that he is not capable of completing his  transformation, but that God will complete it.  In being open and vulnerable, these two are exposed to whatever work God may do in them.  In Elisha’s request to be the rightful heir of Elijah’s work we see some of what it means to be the heir of Elijah –  a willingness to do more than similar miracles.  As David Lose describes it, to be the heir of Elijah is to “go wherever the prophet goes, to bear the same burdens, to risk the same hardship, and to venture into times of solitariness and solidarity in order to receive, and ultimately bear a word of God.”[3]  And we see some of Jesus’s story here too.  Jesus had to completely trust God as he came down off the mountain and headed to Jerusalem to bear the word God had given him.  He had to completely trust God as he knew he would be betrayed, made to suffer, and put to death. 

            It is in the quiet moments that we see the vulnerability of Elisha and Jesus.  It is in the stillness, when they were at their most vulnerable that God filled them.  It was when they were quiet that they encountered God.  On Mount Horeb, Elijah encounters God not in a cacophony of speech, but in sheer silence. In 1 Kings 19:11 Elijah is summoned to the mountain to see God as God passes by.  “There was a great wind, so strong it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks into pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.”  Elijah emerges from the cave where he has been hiding and stands in the silence – exposed, disappointed, vulnerable, waiting to experience the Lord.  His face is wrapped in his mantle, and it is in the silence that he hears the voice of the Lord break through, sending him to Elisha.  It is when Jesus went alone to pray that he heard God clearly in the silence, and when he was at his most vulnerable – beaten, stripped, and hanging from the cross that God spoke the loudest to him. 

            In our vulnerability we may have no other option than to depend on the grace, mercy, and care of God to bring us through.  No matter what the community says, no matter where the journey has taken us, part of transformation is being vulnerable before God and allowing God to be at work.  Where are we vulnerable and dependent on God?  Are we vulnerable as we try new things in new times and with new people?  Do you seek to find your specific place in your family, in the world, or here?  To put your heart’s desire to the best use?  How is God Part of your ongoing transformation?  What is God transforming you into?   

It can be hard to be transformed.  God leads us to places we did not want to venture, and shows us things we do not want to see.  Elisha never wanted to see his friend pulled to heaven in a whirlwind while a chariot of fire drawn by horses passed between them.  He had to  depend on the grace of God to be confident enough to pick up Elijah’s fallen mantle and claim it as his own.  Elisha picks up the mantle and strikes the water.  The river parts, and just as his predecessor did, he crosses the river.  The community who was part of his transformation declares that the spirit of Elijah rests in Elisha now.  Without being open to God’s mercy and grace, this would not have been possible for Elisha.

            Author Ralph Ellison said, “It takes a deep commitment to change and an even deeper commitment to grow.”  When we commit to allowing God to transform us, we not only make the deep commitment to change, but know that we will grow as well.  In the end, when we commit to be the people called Christians, we commit to opening ourselves up to be changed.  We agree to be transformed on the journey.  Perhaps transformation happens in a moment, in a in the cacophony of a whirlwind.  Perhaps it happens gradually over time.  To be strong in our faith, to be one who follows Christ, is to be immersed in ways we are continually being shaped and changed and to see the mercy and care of God in the process.  May we continue on this journey together, being vulnerable and open to the transformation God is causing in each of us, as we rely on God’s grace and care to see us through.  In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen.

 

Rev. Julie A. Jensen

First Presbyterian Church, Cartersville, GA

Feb. 19, 2012

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[1] Feasting on the Word Pastoral Perspective 437

[2] ibid

[3] ibid

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Luke 2:22-40

“My Eyes have Seen My Salvation”

It seemed like Christmas had not even ended, and the world was ready to move on.  On Christmas afternoon, I was in the car on my way to the airport to fly out to visit family, listening to the radio.  The commercials were no longer about Christmas sales and gifts, but about weight loss plans and New Year’s Eve parties.  The radio stations that were non-stop Christmas music that very morning, were now back to their “regular” programming.  Before the day was over, the world was moving onto the next thing.

            It can sometimes feel like that is what happens with the story of Jesus – we spend time with the baby in the manger, and then before we can blink twice he is an adult being baptized in the Jordan River. But today is the day we get to savor the infancy of Jesus – those first tender days when he cooed at his parents, snuggled in close at naptime, and probably had his share of nights when he cried more than he slept.  Our reading for today, before we fast forward in time to his trip to the temple when he was 12, and then to his adulthood, is one that shows us the infant, and how he was raised.

            Mary and Joseph were devoutly Jewish.  At 8 days Jesus was circumcised, and now, at 40 days, he is brought to the temple.  Mary has come for her purification, and the family has come to participate in the ancient practice of presenting their child to the Lord.  Part of that presentation and setting aside their child as belonging to God is making a sacrificial offering.  Mary and Joseph are so poor that they can only offer a pair of turtledoves or two pigeons as their sacrifice.[1]  In their presentation of their son, Mary and Joseph demonstrate their confidence in God’s promises.  We would not expect less from these two.  Mary heard the voice of an angel and proclaimed that she would bear the son of God.  They followed the civil rules  -  traveling to Bethlehem for the census, and now continue to follow the religious rules of traveling to the temple.  Their devotion is evident, and provides the basis for our understanding that Jesus was raised to be observant of the laws – both civil and religious -  and to practice his faith from the time he was born. 

            Mary, Joseph and Jesus enter the temple grounds.  There are over 30 acres of land and buildings, and many people were there.  The odds of Simeon and Anna running into Mary, Joseph, and their child were slim to none.  However, the Holy Spirit guides Simeon to the temple that day, and the encounter happens.  Jesus upbringing is not the focus of the passage – it is what happens when he is brought to the temple that Luke wants us to experience.  Jesus is recognized by someone outside of the family for who he is by Simeon and Anna.  Not only did these two see him, they saw him for who he was – different from any other infant who entered the gates before or after.  Author Madeline L’Engle – she wrote a Wrinkle in Time – says this about the meeting, “eight days after the baby was born he was circumcised and he was called Jesus, because that was the name the angel had told Joseph to give him…  How remarkable, how beyond the bounds of ordinary possibility, that two old people should see a small baby and recognize that he was the Light of the World!  Was it perhaps because they were so old, so near to the Beyond, that they were able to see what caught up in the cares of life could not see?”[2]

            L’Engle’s description of Simeon and Anna is so beautiful, and so true – that these two aged individuals were so near to the Beyond that they could see what people caught up in the cares of the everyday could not see.  Simeon recognizes the child at once – he knows that this child is the salvation he has been waiting so long to see with his own eyes.  He had been promised that before he died, he would see the salvation of the world, and he knows this is it.  His faith in God is so deep, so complete, that he knows this promise will be answered.  He woke up that morning, and went about what he usually does.  Washed his face, ate breakfast, visited with friends, and maybe went out to the shop.  But then he is called to the temple by that voice in his gut that he cannot ignore – the voice of the Holy Spirit.  And he goes.  Anna, the widow, was 84 years old.  She had not left the temple since the death of her husband, and she too knew that she would see the savior before she died.   They are together when the young couple comes in, and they immediately know.  Simeon reaches out his arms to hold the baby, and the tiny Jesus is placed in his calloused hands.  The old man cradles the infant, and you can see the joy on his face, the Light of the World brings light to his eyes.  Simeon gazes into the eyes of Jesus, and he recognizes him.  The child whose conception was announced by angels and whose birth was marked by a star looks back, and Simeon sees him for who and what he really is.  God.  Simeon is so close to the Beyond, that he can see the Beyond in this child.  He prays, he sings, he offers these words to God, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; ³⁰for my eyes have seen your salvation, ³¹which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, ³²a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

            But Simeon does not stop there. He has some hard words for Mary to hear as well – words about the life and death of her son.  In him will be the falling and rising of a great nation, and in that, Mary’s heart will be broken. Anna too, recognizes that this child is different, that he is their salvation.  She is called prophet, and her words are not recorded by Luke.  But her response made enough of an impression, that when Luke writes this account more than 70 years after the destruction of the temple, the gist of Anna’s response remains.  Like Simeon, she praises God, and she tells everyone who will listen to her that this child is the redemption of Israel.  He is the one for whom they have waited for so very long.

            In Anna and Simeon we see the first response from those outside the immediate family and those present at the birth.  We also see patience.  These two had waited for so long – their entire lives – to see their salvation, and here he is.  They saw him with their own eyes, and Simeon tells God that he can “go in peace” – the final promise of his life has been fulfilled.  Just as the calendar moves pages from year to year, just as the Christmas decorations are put away and we begin to look forward, the cycle of life also continues here.  In the beginning of the life of Christ, we see the end of the lives of Anna and Simeon.  In the newness of the life of Christ, we see two aged individuals with wisdom, knowledge, faith, and patience that we can all learn from.

            If we were to make a list of things our culture values, youth would be at or near the top of the list.  There are products to hide wrinkles, cover grey hair, make us look younger, act younger, and appear to be younger.  The Holy Grail, it seems is really the fountain of youth.  How many times have we heard phrases like “60 is the new 40” or been really exited because the cashier at the grocery store asked to see our ID when we bought a bottle of wine.  Supermodels advertise entire skin regimens to take years of our face in a mater of weeks, and yesterday I saw an infomercial for facelifts that can be done quickly and discreetly.  Being seen as “old” is frowned upon in our culture, and I wonder how Anna and Simeon would have fit in today. 

            “Old” has become a bad word to use to describe someone.  Yet, I argue that it is from those who are older than we are that we can learn the most.  Certainly in a family setting, but also in community settings.  Two teenagers took their infant into the temple, and it was those who had more wisdom, experience, and knowledge who proclaimed with full force that this child was the messiah for whom they had been waiting.  Perhaps it is easier to see beyond the immediate when you have lived a full life and have a different perspective?  Perhaps, the time spent waiting had cultivated a sense of patience in the two?  But it was through their eyes that we experience Christ in today’s reading.  We can also see the benefits of being part of a larger religious community.  These young parents had no idea what to expect that day  -remember Mary was still a teenager.  And they come to their house of worship and can draw upon the experience of those who have raised children.  It is at church that we can experience the same thing.  In this reading, it is the old who clearly can see and name their salvation, and they guide the young.  There is a community present in the temple, just as there is a community present here.  A community that provides a safe space for those in all ages and stages of life to worship and work together.  We see youth being led by those who are 10, 15, and 20 years older than them.  We watch as some of our retired members teach Sunday School.  And if you have ever been to dinner with the Mothers of Young Children group, you have seen those who have gone before passing their wisdom along to those who follow behind. 

When babies are born, we have such hopes for them.  Parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and siblings and friends dream and imagine their futures.  What will be the first words she speaks?  How far will his first steps take him? Will they cry when they get on the bus to go to kindergarten or look back and wave?  Is he a writer or is she a scientist?  Will they like sports?  Who will the first girlfriend or boyfriend be?  Who will be the last?  Weddings, families, careers are all imagined, hopes created, and wishes wished for the life of this child.  There is a wider circle beyond the immediate family who hope and wish the same things, and here at church we do that also.  But sometimes, we need to hear about the things beyond wishes and dreams.  Not only when raising children, but just traveling through life.  Couples marrying can benefit from the wisdom of those who have been married for 30 years.  Students heading off to college may want to hear about the times that will be hard, not just the parties and fun.  When a spouse dies, those who have experienced similar events can offer council and support.  Sometimes, we need the voices of those who have gone before to say the hard things to us as well -  to help us correct when we have veered off course, or see the situation in a different way.  Simeon and Anna, as much joy as they proclaim, also have hard news to tell.  We can imagine it took courage for Simeon to tell Mary and Joseph all that he knew about the life of their son.  And we must also have the faith and courage to say that hard things, in love to one another.  Simeon was preparing Mary for the difficulties that lay ahead, and we have that responsibility to each other to do that as well.  To say that there will be nights when the baby will not sleep and you will want to do anything to make the tears stop – both yours and the child’s.  To say that after the divorce there will be days that the world does not make sense.  Someone to say that the honeymoon will end, and reality will set in, or that in time the pain of death does lessen and you will find a way to move forward, even if you cannot see it now.  Not to encourage you to focus on the negative, but to provide a safe loving space to come when it happens.  Those who have gone before have the wisdom to share for those who come after.

I get to spend a lot of time with the “older adults” in our congregation – it is something I truly enjoy. It is rare for me to leave a visit, a lunch or a field trip without learning something from those who have lived longer than I have and who have experience to share.  I’m not going to tell any tales – I think what happens on the bus stays on the bus — but what strikes me is how my faith is deepened by the time we spend together.  Whether it is hearing about a devotional practice of one who has been reading the Bible for hours every day for over 70 years, or hearing a grandparent talk about praying for their grandchild, the work God is still doing is evident.  Not only am I privileged to hear the marvelous stories of youth in a time before my birth, but there is almost always a nugget of wisdom in the conversations we have.  It is not an intentional “now I’m going to teach you” but a natural part of our time together.  Sometimes it happens in the kitchen at Friendship Table as we gather to cook and serve, sometimes it happens at a table in Chik fil-A.  Those who are closer to the beyond, as L’Engle put it, have a way of showing how they encounter Christ that is fearless and bold.  The concerns of “what might people think” are no longer immediate, and so often what is spoken by our oldest friends and members is their encounter with Christ.  They help me see Christ in ways I had not imagined.

Simeon encountered God.  And he recognized his salvation – he saw the salvation of the world and he announced it to all who would hear.  He had patiently waited.  He had sat for a long time waiting for this child to enter into his life, and when the child arrived, he tenderly cradled him and announced that this was indeed the event he had been waiting for all these years.  How do we recognize the light of the world in our lives?  How do you see the Christ-child each day?  Together, we recognize him here.  Together we see him when we feed the hungry, when we teach children, when we sing music or attend meetings.  Together we encounter the living Christ.  We learn from each other, we speak the truth in love, and we proclaim the ways in which the light of the world has broken into our world.  Each of us is at a different age and stage.  And each of us has an experience with Christ to share with one another. 

As we look back on the year that has just ended, and look forward on the year that is ahead, ask yourself this – How have you seen the child that was born to Mary and Joseph not just as a baby, but as God with us?  Who helps you recognize the light of the world when you may miss it?  What memories of those who are older and wiser help you listen for God?  Who are Anna and Simeon for you? Or, are you Anna or Simeon, showing Christ to those around you?  How do you recognize God in your midst?  And how do you respond when you meet Him?

One way we recognize Christ in our midst is when we come to this table.  We sit with all those who have come before, and will come after, and we experience Christ.  We cannot hold the child as Simeon did, we cannot gaze into his eyes as Anna had the chance to do.  What we can do is gather here – we can see our salvation in the breaking of the bread and the raising of the cup.  We can touch Christ when we touch hands passing the plates of bread and juice.  We tangibly experience Christ at this table – we respond to the news of his birth and later his death by remembering and encountering him here.  Just as we move forward in time packing up the Christmas decorations and turning the calendar page, the Christ child moves forward as well.  He is born, he lives, and he dies.  Through this act, our eyes can indeed see our salvation.  Through our community, we can share that experience with each other.  As we make resolutions for this year, I encourage you to consider making some different resolutions – resolve to find a way to recognize Christ everyday.  Resolve to not only recognize Christ, but to share that recognition as Simeon and Anna did.  Resolve to defy the culture of youth and hear the words of wisdom of those who went before.  It was in a child that an old man saw his salvation.  How will you see that child, and how will you respond to the ways he will shape your life?  In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

Rev. Julie A. Jensen

1/1/2012 

First Presbyterian Church, Cartersville, GA

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[1] Commentary on Gospel by Holly Hearon (workingpreacher.org).

[2] Imaging the Word

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Last week our church, through the Deacon’s Fund, helped a family here in town that is staying at the Good Neighbor Homeless Shetler.  This family is a woman and a 2 year-old that she is raising for another member of her family. Their car had broken down and the mom had no transportation to and from work.  She was walking, in the dark and cold, late at night with the toddler in a stroller until she could get her car fixed.  The auto repair place graciously fixed the car so that she could safely get back and forth to work, and released the vehicle back to her before the bill was settled.  Now the child and mom had a reliable, safe way to get to and from work – she just needed to settle the bill.  The Director of the shelter called us, which is not a usual occurance, and asked if we could help.  We paid the bill and on Monday the Director of the Shelter came by with a note for us.  The guest does not know who her benefactors are, and so she wrote a note to thank us for our generousity, kindness, and love.  Affixed to the outside of the envelope was a handprint cut from paper with the fruits of the spirit on it – Love, Hope, Peace, Faith, and Joy.  The handprint is that of the child who no longer has to be out in the dark and the cold while her caregiver walks home from work.

I am grateful for the agencies and organizations in our community that work together to care for those in need.  While a $140 car repair bill may not be insurmountable to many of us, for this family, it was.  When you are getting back on your feet and working paycheck to paycheck, every little bit helps.  Last night, our Deacon’s served almost 100 people at Friendship Table.  That is almost 100 people in our community who had a hot meal last night and some to take home with them.  They had a chance to come in for a little while out of the 41 degree, rainy weather and spend some time in fellowship and experience hospitality.  Our Deacons who had not served in a while were awed by the numbers and the folks who said “Thank you.”

This weekend at the church is our International and Community Christmas Market.  We will be open from Saturday 10-4 and Sunday 9:30-2.  In addition to the goods from 10,000 Villages, we will also have community agencies with information and opportunities to support their work in the community. In my mind, this is not as much about Christmas shopping as it is being part of a community that affirms we care about those who need us.   Jesus was not born in a hospital, but in a stable.  He was not dressed in fancy smocked outfits with monagrams on the front, but wrapped in strips of cloth – whatever his parents could find.  Last night, as I counted the numbers of men, women, and children standing in line, I had a flash of Jesus being born to folks just like those standing there.  Not only to them, but for them. One of  our calls as followers of Jesus is to care for those who may not have a place to live or meals to eat.  Not only care for them, but also care about them.  There is a difference.

Than handrpint is on my desk – I’m having a hard time letting it move to the bulletin board in our office.  In this tiny hand are the fruits of the spirit, and the messages of Christ – love, faith, hope, peace, and joy. Looking at that tiny handprint, thinking about those who stood in line to eat, and those who serve them, I see the difference  even small actions can make.  The hope offered by paying a car repair bill or offering a hot meal without questions, expectations, or judgment.  I am grateful to be part of this work, work that lets me find ways to see an infant in a manger every day.

 

 

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I am coming to the place where one of the places I consistently find joy in my week is the weekly chapel service I lead with our After School Program children.  Around 150 children, grades K-3, their teachers and para-pros, a piano player and I participate in weekly worship and singing.  It is loud, a little crazy, not always predictable, and really fun.  The last 2 weeks I have walked out of the sanctuary so glad for the time I get to spend telling the smallest people in the building the they are loved by God.  Today, the crux of the lesson was that I cared enough about them to count out 747 small rocks into a bowl and know exactly how many were in there, but only God loves us enough to know how many hairs are in our heads –all of us all the time. 

For many of these children, our church and their school may be one of the few places they hear how great they are.  They are labeled “at risk” and have to be referred to our program for poor test scores and academic performance.  We are working hard to increase our diversity – -the population is mostly Hispanic.  Some are churched, some are not.  For most, I am the first woman minister they have seen.  It does not seem to phase them. 

My goals for chapel are pretty low, between you and me.  Teach them that this is God’s house.  Tell them the story of God and Jesus.  Teach some of the basic songs I learned growing up.  Tell them they are loved and church is a safe place.  Show them that God and Christ will always care for them.  Some weeks it can be the most missional thing I do.  It has been interesting for me to wrap my head around figuring out how to teach a third grader who God is – I don’t remember learning “who is God” - that fact was as basic to my being as “who are my parents”.  So I talk, they listen.  We sing and dance.  The theology of “Jesus Loves Me” and “This Little Light” and “The Bible is a Special Book” probably teach more than I do.  But we have fun.  No one cares that I sing off key, or sometimes forget the motions.  Together we learn about grace when the music leaders have to work together.  I am indebted to our new organist who helped me find some new songs to teach, and teachers who are willing to sing the Butterfly Song for 4 weeks in a row. 

Last week I passed a class in the hall on their way to snack.  One of the little boys stopped me and asked about my left hand – the one that only has 2 fingers.  “That’s how God made me special.  Just like God made you special.”  He looked at me and said “and God loves us both, right?  Can we have chapel today?”  That’s why today I counted out 747 rocks, one at a time.  Because we had chapel and they are special and they need to know.  God loves us.

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This is the sermon from October 2, 2011, as preached at FPC in Cartersville.

 

(Image from PC(USA) )

Isaiah 25:1-9

 

Praise for Deliverance from Oppression

 

25O Lord, you are my God;
   I will exalt you, I will praise your name;
for you have done wonderful things,
   plans formed of old, faithful and sure.
² For you have made the city a heap,
   the fortified city a ruin;
the palace of aliens is a city no more,
   it will never be rebuilt.
³ Therefore strong peoples will glorify you;
   cities of ruthless nations will fear you.
⁴ For you have been a refuge to the poor,
   a refuge to the needy in their distress,
   a shelter from the rainstorm and a shade from the heat.
When the blast of the ruthless was like a winter rainstorm,
⁵   the noise of aliens like heat in a dry place,
you subdued the heat with the shade of clouds;
   the song of the ruthless was stilled.

 
⁶ On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
   a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines,
   of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear.
⁷ And he will destroy on this mountain
   the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
   the sheet that is spread over all nations;
⁸ he will swallow up death for ever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
   and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
   for the Lord has spoken.
⁹ It will be said on that day,
   Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
   This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
   let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

“A Feast of Rich Food”

 

            How did you celebrate the last major milestone event in your life, or the life of a family member or friend?  Chances are, as you remember the event, there was food of some kind.  Good food – food you don’t usually eat, food that is bad for your diet and waistline.  Food that drips and oozes or was crisply fried.  Food and drink that stays in your mind as a part of the day.  When we attend weddings, food is an integral part of the celebration – even the simplest of receptions usually have something to eat, and cake – really good cake!  Birthday parties have cake and meals – often the meal at the birthday party is the choice of the Birthday Girl or Boy.  Couples often celebrate anniversaries by going out to dinner.  When we graduate, there are parties and celebrations with yummy eats.  Milestone birthdays as we age often include a special meal; when we die, that event is also marked with food.  Friends and neighbors bring meals to the house, there is often food after the service – -even simple snacks show the hospitality and care of a church family for the deceased.  From the casseroles dropped off at the door when we are born, to the casseroles eaten by our families after we die, our lives and celebrations are marked by meals of rich food.

 

            So often these meals are eaten in community.  We mark the passages in our lives with our friends and loved ones.  In these meals we make memories.  In these meals we find comfort.  We find familiarity.  Often the best part of some of these meals is the anticipation – -the excitement, the planning, the desire for a time to see folks and dine together.  The anticipation can be just as exciting as the event.  In our reading from Isaiah, we hear about anticipation of such a meal.   The 24^th chapter of Isaiah, ending just before today’s passage picks up, does not end well.  The last verses contain predictions of terror and trembling for the whole earth.  The earth will be torn asunder and be violently shaken (24:20), and it will fall and not rise again.  Isaiah and his people were experiencing chaos and turmoil that may feel similar to what we may feel in our lives today – with an “uncertain economy,” wars in other countries, and all the other events that can cause us to feel like we are trembling right along with the people of Judah.  In fact, the 24^th-27^th chapters of Isaiah are called the “little apocalypse” because of their description of “a sense of crisis in the world giving rise to a belief that the present world is so evil that it must soon come to an end, to be replaced by a new and glorified cosmos where only the righteous will live.”[1]  The people were living in the fear of punishment for having broken God’s covenant.  And in the midst of this fear, is a word of hope.  In our lesson for today, Isaiah boldly proclaims that there is hope, and there will be comfort.  Not only for those who heard Isaiah then, but also for us as we look to see God at work today.

 

The passage begins with an affirmation:  “O Lord, you are my God.  I will exalt you, I will praise your name; for you have done wonderful things, plans formed of old, faithful and sure.”  In the midst of the distress comes the affirmation that the Lord is our God.  Isaiah makes the choice to claim God in the midst of despair, and to proclaim the faithfulness of God; to confess that God is real and worthy of praise – even in the sorrow and confusion the people experience.  There is something to be said for that – for the first reaction in hard times to be “God is here, God is present, and God is my God,” rather than rejecting God.  When we can affirm God in the midst of whatever life throws at us, we can begin to see our way out. 

 

After we proclaim God, we remember God.  How many of our meals and celebrations revolve around story-telling?  How many times have you heard the story told by your aunt about the time that she and your father got lost at the fair, or got in trouble for not weeding the garden?

 

 The story my mom and her siblings tell is about the milk delivery.  My grandparents lived in Portland, Oregon with their three children – -my mom and her 2 brothers.  When I asked her to fill in the details of the story for me for today, we had the best time laughing over it.  It is one I have heard many times before.  So this was back when milk was delivered to the house every day.  The milk order was large and complicated in a house with three growing children, my oldest Uncle was a teenager and drank a lot of milk, the youngest uncle had to drink goats’ milk, because he was allergic to cow’s milk for much of his childhood, and so the daily order was often large and complicated. Every night, they would leave the empty bottles and the order out on the porch.  In the early morning hours, the Alpenrose Dairy would deliver the various quarts of milk my Grandmother had ordered the night before – sometimes she would order chocolate as a special treat.  Well, one night, my oldest uncle changed the order and got up early to bring in the milk without her knowing.  It was not until hours later that my grandmother opened the refrigerator to make breakfast and discovered 5 quarts of chocolate milk – which was not what she had ordered at all!   

 

 

 

We tell stories that make us laugh, and also tell stories where we remember the hard times, and what brought us through them.  Seeing where God is today begins by remembering where God has been in the past.  We remember the times God has been faithful, even when we did not see it, and draw on those experiences to move forward.  In our communion prayer, at our common meal, we remember how God has always been faithful to God’s people, and we trust that God will be faithful still.  In our Great Prayer of Thanksgiving, as it is called, we remember the work of God throughout time and in our world.  We hear, and the Israelites heard then, that God has been acting- -God has provided shelter from the rainstorm and a shade from the heat.  They remember this, as we remember it.  They remember the promises God made through the book of Isaiah for lions to lie down with lambs, for God to do a new and different thing, for God to go with us through the waters, and we know that God will continue to keep God’s covenant with us.

 

 No matter how scattered they might become, the people of God will know salvation.  The consolation offered in our reading for today is for all the nations, past present and future, north, south, east and west.  The banquet Isaiah describes is full of rich food that satisfies, and wine that quenches the thirst.  This meal is made from the rich marrow of the bones that gives food a deep flavor and wine that has been strained of it’s impurities. Those at this feast eat the best food provided by God as a tangible reminder of God’s promises to us, as a way to taste and see that the Lord is good.  This is a banquet for everyone, celebrating the eventual end of death, despair and pain when the Lord hosts the eternal feast for the people. 

 

From memories of God’s action in the past, come thanksgiving for what God continues to do for us.  We give thanks to God for the refuge and shelter given to the poor.  We gave thanks to God for the ways God has ensured the poor will be cared for.  We give thanks for the ways in which God cares for our community, as we recognize the call of God to us to continue to care for those in our community.  We see God in the midst of chaos and tragedy and give thanks for that presence. 

 

When 5 of us went to Tuscaloosa this summer, we had no idea what to expect.  The town had been torn apart by the tornadoes of April 27^th.  Not the whole city, but swaths and paths of it.  On one corner was a building that had been unscathed, and on the other was an empty lot that used to be a business.  You may remember when the roof of our Hobby Lobby crashed in after severe flooding last year.  The Hobby Lobby we drove by in Tuscaloosa was a shell.  The sign lights were blown out, the front walls are gone.  It looked ghostly almost, certainly abandoned.  And this was a place where clean-up had begun – there were full dumpsters in the parking lot and debris in piles ready to be taken away. I had never seen such devastation first-hand, and it was overwhelming. 

 

In the midst of this tragedy, God was present. A community agency that operated similarly to our Community Resource Office became the hub of distributing food and supplies. Volunteers run this center 6 days a week.  Six weeks after the disaster, volunteers were still coming from near and far to help.  Everyone had a story, and so many of the stories we heard praised God that they had been spared, or that it was not worse for them.  We saw a church that had been completely demolished all that remained was the parking lot.  On their now-empty lot, they had set up an RV/Food truck and were continuing to feed the people in their neighborhood.  God was active in this community, providing refuge, providing help, offering solace, providing a banquet for those who needed to eat.  We knew God was at work in lives of the people of this community, and in those who came from other places to serve stranger they had never even met before.

 

Seeing God at work in other places and offering thanks for what God has done helps each of us see God at work in other places in the world.  On this World Communion Sunday, we remember our brothers and sisters in Christ the world over, who dine with us today.  God is not American, God is the God of all people, all over the world.  Do you remember all the excitement surrounding the new millennium when we changed the calendars from 1999 to 2000?  News channels began showing places around the world as it was midnight in each place.  I believe they started on a small island away from Australia, and then moved to the continent of Australia and followed cities and countries all the way to the International Dateline.  Midnight in Sydney, midnight in Japan, China, Russia, Africa, Europe, South America – all the way around the world people celebrated the milestone with parties and celebrations.  It allowed us to see how the world was doing the same thing together – watching time move forward, and waiting to see if this was the end of the world or a new beginning.  There will not be news cameras in Christian churches today, our worship service will not be on the news tonight, but for me, this is a chance to imagine the body of Christ at one table, seeing God at work together.  While we were finishing supper and putting little ones to bed last night, a congregation in Australia gathered around the table and took the bread and the cup. As we were sleeping, congregations in Vietnam heard the ancient words, “this is my body broken for you”.  Around the time I woke up this morning, the drums and chants of those in central Africa were beginning.  And as we are sitting down to Sunday Lunch, churches on the West Coast will begin to sing their hymns.  As the sun makes its way around the globe, the body of Christ sits at table today – to share in a meal that is but a foretaste of the meal God has planned for us.

 

In reading the words of Isaiah, we find hope.  In this meal, a heavenly banquet spread out in a sacred place, believers come to meet their God.  And Christ comes to meet us at our table.  At the table, we share a feast rich with memory, with history, with the knowledge that one day we will all be at the heavenly table.  We yearn for the future feast when all will sit at the table of the Lord and eat rich, delectable food and drink together.  God promises this to us.

God’s plans for us extend throughout time, around time, and in time.  The feast when God comes will be grander than any feast we can imagine.  It will have the best food, the best wine, and the best company – -all of God’s people through time and space and around the world.  We will all dine together.  Our meal on this World Communion Sunday is just a hint at what is to come – -the taste of the bread and the juice are reminders that God is at work in the world now and always.  Christ is with us as we dine, even in the midst of chaos.  The table is set with our china and linen, let us go to the banquet.

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[1] New Interpreters Study Bible.  987-988.  Isaiah 24 study notes.

 

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This is the sermon I preached on Sunday, September 4th.  It was really well received, and I am grateful for the kind feedback I received from those who heard it, and heard about it.

 

Your Deep Gladness

Isaiah 6:1-8 and Luke 5:1-11

Have you noticed in the last week or so that the mornings are starting to become cooler?  Darkness now falls before 9, and not after.  Some of the leaves are thinking about changing color, and football season is officially underway.  The long, leisurely days of summer are drawing to a close, and we are back into the busyness of fall.  This weekend marks the unofficial end of summer – it is Labor day weekend.  Ironically, this weekend that we think about the labor we do is one marked by rest, play, vacation, travel and gathering with family and friends.  There is no work on the Monday we celebrate the labor we do, but rather a day off to have a break from work.  But, work is what we will be looking at today – work that we all engage in in our everyday lives.  I invite you to explore with me the Reformed theology surrounding our vocation and call,  to consider who calls you, and to what are you called, and how when we allow God to fulfill us, rather than work, we can experience the deep gladness in our souls that comes from serving God.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism is one of the eleven documents in our Book of Confessions.  These creeds, catechisms, declarations and statements were written over the life of the church to affirm what we believe.  The Shorter Catechism begins with this question: “What is the chief end of [man]?”  The answer:  “To love God and enjoy him forever.”  This statement describes our Christian Vocation – a life of joyful service to glorify God.  God calls us to not only our jobs, if we have them, but to our life work and a life of service in all that we do.  John Calvin and Martin Luther – two of the reformers you hear mentioned most often when we think about the Reformation – advanced the belief that God calls every person to a vocation that serves and glorifies God.[1]

The word vocation is from the Latin word vocare and means “to call”.  Inside the church, we hear this language and think of those called to Christian Vocation – to be pastors and elders and deacons and other leaders, or to participate in full time Christian ministry.  Outside the church, “vocation” is equated with a job – what do you do for a living?  But, in the reformed tradition, “vocation” is so much more than what you do every day as a job outside the home, or inside the home caring for it.  If you crack open your Book of Order to chapter 5, vocation for us is laid out in several paragraphs, ending with this statement, “for Christians, work and worship cannot be separated.”  God calls a people to believe in Jesus Christ as Lord and savior – a profession we all make at baptism confirmation, or reaffirmation of faith.  We are called to follow Jesus in obedient discipleship and use the gifts and abilities God has given us to honor and serve God in our personal life, in our households and with our families, in our daily occupations, in our community, nation, and in the world.  We respond to our call from God and our belief in Christ through the ministries of God’s people in and for the world.  God calls us to honor and serve God in all parts of our lives – in our work and in our play, in our thought and in our actions, and in our private lives and public relationships.  We believe that work and worship, life and worship, cannot be separated.[2]  This means our vocation is not our everyday jobs – be they paid or unpaid – but our everyday lives.  God calls every one of us to continually worship God in all that we do.

Our scripture readings for today are 2 of the call stories in the Bible.  When I was in seminary, and in the call process, we heard a lot about call stories.  It was in the air.  You had to tell your call story to your session and presbytery multiple times as part of the ordination process.  We looked at call stories in the Bible for preaching classes, to talk about why we were called, and to what we were called.  We told our call stories to nominating committees, and to church congregations.  And I still have occasions when I tell my call story.  When do you tell yours?  You have one, you know.  God calls each of us – each of us has a call story.  Some are obvious moments when you knew that God was calling you to a certain occupation, to raise children, to work in a specific area or serve in retirement.  Others are quieter and less easily noticed, or unclear and hard to discern.  What we notice when we look at all of the call stories in the Bible is that God did not call people to a certain job.  Nowhere does God say “for your job, you will be a computer programmer.”  Even if computers were around, that would not have been the call.  The call, in all of the instances in the Bible where we see a call is to go and serve God in a unique way using gifts and skills given to us by God.  In our reading from Isaiah for today, we see Isaiah being called by God to serve as a prophet and proclaim God’s word.  Isaiah has a vision in which God is too big to fit into the temple – in fact the hem of God’s robe fills the temple.  God is being attended by seraphs – -creatures that looked like cobras but with six wings.  Isaiah is considered unclean after seeing God – even just the hem of God’s garment, and a hot coal is placed in his mouth to purify him.  Only then did he hear the voice of God ask, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?”  Isaiah immediately replies – “Here am I, send me”.  And, at this point in any worship service where this text is used, we all break out into the song Here I am Lord.  It is a great call song, but do we know where we offer to go when we say, “I will go Lord, if you lead me?”  Isaiah didn’t know.  He just knew that this vision had been for him, and it is in the next verse – of the Bible, not the song!, when he hears that he is being called to deliver a hard message to the people of God.  Isaiah’s vocation is that of Prophet – -to serve God by sharing his word, no matter how hard, to people who probably do not want to hear it. 

Isaiah’s call story would probably go into the category of “confusing,” if we organized call stories into categories.  Another interesting call story is ours today from Luke, when Jesus calls Simon to be what we might call a “second career” individual.  Simon’s first job was as a fisherman.  He had probably done this for most of his working life, and given that he had not yet died from starvation, we can safely assume that he did a pretty good job at it.  But one day, Jesus comes along and changes his life.  Jesus calls him to stop fishing, even after showing him how to bring in a better haul, and instead follow him and fish for people.  Simon Peter did not hesitate when Jesus called him to follow, but probably had no idea what was in store.  Simon Peter was not wanted for his job as a fisherman, but was called to a vocation of discipleship and to be, a follower of Christ. 

Last month I was away for a continuing education event.  The Young Clergy Women Project spent 3 days thinking about questions of call and vocation.  What I did not expect was to see God’s call to someone shown as clearly as I did in our shuttle bus driver.  In a 14 passenger van full of clergy women, his certainty that he was doing the work he was supposed to be doing shone through.  The ride was about 8 minutes between our hotel and the Divinity school.  The driver introduced himself jovially as Mike and greeted each of us warmly as we climbed aboard the van.  As we drive the route, Mike told us about himself, while giving a highly spirited tour of the Duke Campus.  As we drove on the west side of campus, we asked Mike about the statue we had passed numerous times – -a lifesize camel with a single hump seeming to listen to a man.  “Oh, the camel statue.  That was put there to remember the professor who thought he discovered single humped camels.  Everyone knew about 2 humped camels, but he thought he was the first to see one with only one hump.  In fact, he was so certain of this fact that he actually tried to name the camel – you know, give it a scientific name.  But when he went to register his new animal, he found that someone else had already named it.  He found out the hard way that just because he had never seen it before did not mean it didn’t exist.  Why that gets a statue, I have no idea.”  We laughed and he continued to visit with us.

It turns out that Mike actually loves being a shuttle driver.  “I love my work.  I get to take strangers to new places, show them my city, and help them have a good time.  I enjoy taking care of the vans, keeping them maintained and worked on.  I’m a mechanic, and so I can be of use here.  I don’t want to be a supervisor and in charge of the people.  I don’t want to have to tell people what to do or deal with the politics or make the schedules.  I want to drive folks and show them something new.  We have a lot of people who stay at our hotel because of how close we are to the medical center.  Families, patients, kids – you name it.  If I can make a bad day a little brighter, then I will.  If I can show them some comic relief, give them something to smile about or a story to tell, then that makes both of our days brighter.  The camel story – the kids love it!  It is a good memory of what can be a bad time for some of them.”  Mike’s words rang in my ears that night when we returned to the hotel and a little boy who had been there since our arrival jumped out of the shuttle van behind us.  He was obviously a patient at the medical center – his T-shirt said so.  As he jumped out of the van, he gave Mike a high five and said “see you tomorrow Mike!”.

Mike probably would not say he was called to be a shuttle bus driver – -he fell into it by accident.  Yet his vocation of sharing hospitality and humor to strangers who are far away from home was a gift to that little boy, and to us on our trip.   Presbyterian minister and author Frederick Buechner is known for much of his writing.  Perhaps one of his most famous quotations comes from his writing about vocation.  Buechner writes, “There are different kinds of voices calling you to all different kinds of work, and the problem is to find out which is the voice of God rather than society, or say, the superego or self-interest.  By and large, a good rule for finding out is this: The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work that (a) you need to do and (b) that the world needs to have done.  If you really get a kick out of your work, you’re presumably meeting requirement (a), but if your work is writing cigarette ads, the chances are you’ve missed requirement (b).  On the other hand, if your work is being a doctor in a leper colony, you’ve probably met requirement (b), but if most of the time you’re bored and depressed by it, the chances are you have not only bypassed (a), but probably aren’t helping your patients either.  Neither the hair shirt nor the soft berth will do.  The place God calls you to is where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”[3]

Mike’s deep gladness – providing hospitality and comfort and transportation to people meets the hunger of the world.  For a traveler to have a conversation beyond the check-in counter, for a child to hear the story of the camel statue on his way to yet another doctor and yet another test.  The hunger for compassion in a hard world.  Some days, your deep gladness may shine through.  Your deep gladness to shape the lives of children meets the needs of the world to have children cared for.  Some days, well, not so much.  When your deep gladness is living your life in the worship of God, then you can’t help but meet the deep hunger of the world.  Not all of us love our jobs, some of us wish we had jobs, but our jobs are not our vocations – God does not call us to jobs, God calls us to worship and service and to a vocation of discipleship.  One of our new officers shared a story with us during officer training, and has given me permission to share it here with you.  He works in the financial industry, and described the day a client came into his office to transact some business.  The business completed, the client began sharing some personal struggles that were happening, and some hard times their family was going through.  Our officer tells us that he had no idea what to say, but that God gave him the words to say what was needed to ease the pain of his client.  I believe in that situation, and in that moment, the call was not to the stock market, but to be there for someone in their time of need and offer a word of comfort.   Reflecting on the encounter, he said: “I think whenever someone speaks from the heart, it’s as if God is taking over. Sometimes you don’t know what to say, and He just fills in the blanks.”

            We often fall into the trap of believing that our work defines us.  It is unavoidable in a society that often follows up the questions of “what is your name” with “what do you do for a living?”  When we fall into the trap of believing that our work defines us, we also fall into the false belief that our work should be what fulfills us.  How many late nights have you spent working on a project because you want the sense of accomplishment of finishing it, or have you mourned not finding the right job, or a job that is good enough?  Those of you who stay at home and have the impossible job of raising children and maintaining the household – do you find your identity there?  These things will not fulfill us.  The title of CEO or Parent of the Year will not make us whole.  God fulfills us.  God provides us with the sense of accomplishment and completion, the knowledge that what we do is important. 

No matter who you are, you are called by God.  You are called to find the place where your deep gladness – what brings you joy meets the hunger of the world.  That may not be easy some days.  It may not produce a paycheck.  However, when we live our lives as a vocation – when we live our whole lives in service and worship of God, it is hard not to find ways where what brings us, and God joy also meets the needs of the world.  Each and every one of you has a vocation. You have a call.  Our work and worship cannot be separated – -our vocation is to love God and glorify him forever.  As we think about going back to “work” on Tuesday, after a time of Sabbath, consider your vocation, your call to discipleship.  How is God using your deep gladness to meet the hunger of the world?  How are you answering the call to a vocation of discipleship?  Amen.

 

Rev. Julie A. Jensen
            September 4, 2011

First Presbyterian Church, Cartersville, GA

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[1] Myers, Marcia Clark.  “What do Presbyterians Believe about Vocation?”  Presbyterians Today, 2007.

[2] BOO (Old form of Government) G-5.6000, as quoted in PC(USA) Resources for Christian Vocation Sunday, written by Elder Michael Kruse.

[3] Beuchner, Frederick.  Beyond Words:  Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith.  Harper Collins, 2004.  P. 404.