Category Archives: God with us

Choose This Day (Sermon 8/26)

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Joshua 24:1–2a, 14–18; John 6:56-69
If, on a morning, I open my eyes,
My first decision thereupon lies.
Will I continue to lie in the bed,
Allowing my thoughts to run through my head?
Will I get up and go to the shower,
Regardless of both weather and hour?
What of my child, who may want me to stay?
What of the tasks that call me this day?
From the minute of waking, there are choices to make,
What will I give today? What will I take?
I want to be saintly and say my first thoughts are of God,
But sometimes they’re not and, in that, I’m not odd.
We may rise with the sun or maybe at noon,
And we make hasty promises to get with God soon.
Yet, that instant, a choice has been made-
The balance of time against God has been weighed.
We can’t do it all. Surely God understands.
Consider this: did not God make this world, its demands?
But in each thing we choose, and it is choosewe must
We have decided in which god we shall trust.
When we make decisions for work or for pleasure,
With money or time, talents or leisure,
With each small decision we leave or we make,
We are choosing a god for each task’s sake.

When Joshua says, “Choose this day whom you’ll serve.
My household and I, from God we’ll not swerve.”
He means the God of justice and freedom,
The God who through the desert did lead them.
This is a God of providence, of mercy and manna
Compared to others, God proved top banana.
For the Israelites, Joshua clearly lays out a decision,
Because they had, in history, treated God with derision.
Sometimes God seemed so far and so distant,
They struggled to find God’s mercy consistent.
Yet, who gave the manna? Who gave the quail?
Who brought forth the water when the people did wail? 
“People of Israel,” Joshua said,
“Turn all that you’ve known ‘round in your head.
Think of the guidance through both day and night,
Think of God’s grace. Think of God’s might.”
The people responded, “Our choice has been made.
We’ve looked around. Only Yahweh makes grade.
Only one God can say, ‘I am who I am’
Only one God would work for our father, Abraham.”
So Israelites promised to serve God whatever may come,
For richer, for poorer, when happy, when glum.
The years passed, however, and memories faded.
People thought of this choice and became jaded.
The desert, the manna- they all became history.
What God’s doing now… that became mystery.
It became easier to feel freed by law and instruction,
Only society’s rules prevented destruction.
But that structure left some people wanting,
The gift of the law could seem rather daunting.
When onto the scene, this man Jesus appeared.
Some people rejoiced. Some people jeered.
Then, and again, he talked about bread
About life here right now and life after we’re dead.
He healed sick people, he fed many others,
But his teaching confused both sisters and brothers.
What was this about flesh to eat, blood to drink?
A hard teaching to swallow, most people did think.
Said his disciples, “Jesus, this is enough.
What you’re teaching- it’s too much. It’s too tough.
We don’t like it. We don’t understand.
We’d like to quit you, but it doesn’t seem that we can.
We’ve looked around as to where we might go.
The problem is, there’s some truth we doknow.
Within a world of struggle and strife,
You have the words of eternal life.
Only you have offered hope in the future,
Between God and us, you are the suture.
Even though it is hard to stay,
We cannot leave you or your way.”
The disciples decided (or most of them did)
It was with Jesus that they placed their bid.
They decided, as their ancestors had,
To be on God’s side couldn’t be bad.
And so I say to you this day…
“Wait, Pastor Julia, I’ve something to say…”
“What is it, my child, what bothers you so?”
“Well, you’ve confused me. And so I must know
I thought God chose us. I thought it was done.
I thought the war’s over. The fight had been won.
Didn’t Luther write we’d never say yes…
Without God’s Spirit, we can’t acquiesce!
If you tell us, ‘Today you must choose’
Are you not setting us up… to lose?”
You are right, my child, in every way.
And yet you made a choice today.
You came to be here, to be in communion
To pray, to eat, to embody reunion.
Each day, we see gods far and near.
We can worship success. We can give over to fear.
We can spend our resources or over-honor our kin,
We can reverence our bodies from our toe to our chin.
We can make work our idol, honored, adored.
We can seek that which gives immediate reward.
But in the end, it all fails. It all becomes dust.
These idols- they fade, they die, they rust.
In the end, what we want is something that lasts,
Something that goes beyond all other forecasts.
What can bring order to confusion and strife?
Only the hope of eternal life.
Eternal life, both for there and for here.
A growing, a knowing, a ridding of fear.
This is what Jesus offers- in body and blood.
Without that promise, bread and wine are just mud.
Like us, they’re from dust and to dust shall return,
But through eating and drinking, still we can learn
That God has chosen in creation’s favor,
The presence of Christ is what we savor
When we gather at table, both willing and able
To experience Jesus as truth and not fable.
To trust, to be open, is the choice we must make,
Each day, in the moment right when we wake.
In every moment, we choose a god to serve
With all that we have, each sinew and nerve.
We have a God on the side of all of creation,
Who knows and who loves without cessation.
Who gives us each talents and gives us each gifts,
Who forgives our sins, who mends our rifts.
Who with body and blood has chosen to feed us.
Who through valleys and o’er mountains, has chosen to lead us.
Lord, where could we go? You made us, you know us.
Now, through the Spirit, continue to grow us.
God has called you by name, so as your fear eases,
Choose your god. Every day. I recommend… Jesus. 
Amen.

The Bondage of Memory (Sermon 8/5)

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Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15; John 6:24-35
            Every four years, I have a little jealous streak that rears its head. It’s not because I wish I had put more effort into being an Olympic athlete, though I am admittedly envious of their skills. The little green monster that peeks out dates way back to my childhood when, looking at a poster in the hallway of my house, I realized there were no women presidents. Immediately, I wanted to be one. The presidency became my goal. In high school, I pursued a lot of avenues that were open for politically inclined students. I was voted most likely to succeed and most likely to become President. So every four years, I feel a little nostalgia that it is not going to happen.
            At some point, I realized this was not the path for me. I do not mean a path that was not open to me- I mean not the best one for me. In order to move on to places and things that were better suited for my skills, I had to let the dream of being president die. Yet, the ghost of that dream occasionally haunts me.
            In today’s readings, people are having a hard time letting their dreams die. The Israelites likely dreamt of freedom each night they were in Egypt and, to be sure, it did not look like this wandering in the desert, uncertain, hot, and wistful, even, for the food of Egypt (tinged with the poison of slavery, though it was). They are in bondage to their memory, unable to be thankful to the God who has brought them thus far.
            Their memories will neither allow them to let go of what they thought freedom would be like nor will their memories recall the truth of what life in Egypt truly was. Their memories are holding them back from seeing God’s actions right in front of them- the actions that are bringing them life.
            The people gathered around Jesus in today’s gospel, both Jews and Gentiles, are not able to see who he really is. Their memories are fixated in two directions as well. On the one hand, they are clearly remembering the many baskets of leftover food after an entire crowd ate their fill. On the other hand, they are remembering what has always been promised about the Messiah of God and what his advent will bring. Obsessed with the signs they’ve witnessed, they crowd Jesus- unable or unwilling to hear what he is saying about belief in God and what truly sustains life.
            Their memories will not allow them to see past the obviousness of the miracles nor will it allow them to let go of the messiah of their minds. Their memories are holding them back from seeing God’s actions right in front of them- the actions that are offering them life.
            We too can be in bondage to our memories. Not just to what we once thought we might have been personally, but in many directions. We can hold ourselves captive by society’s standards or the expectations of those we hold dear. We may be enslaved by the memories of our own beliefs about ourselves, our work, our families- what they were going to be, what they could be if we just made a few changes.
            As a church family, we can be in bondage to our memories of what we think we our best times. We can long for the leeks and cucumbers of days gone by, forgetting the work that went with those meals. As part of the church universal, we can hold so tightly to our memories of what we believed would happen when we nailed the theses to the door, ordained women, become more welcoming… that we are devastated by events that do not live up to the expectation of our memories.
            I’m not talking about our memories of people we have loved or times that we appreciated- those are gifts from God that we’re able to recognize. But the memories of what we thought would be… Our communities, our homes, ourselves… can be held back by what we once believed would be our future. When this happens, and it does, we often grieve for what might have been- without taking stock in what is. Our memorial grief can hold us back from seeing God’s actions right in front of us- the actions that are offering us life.
            When Jesus says, “I am the bread of life”- it’s not about food for the stomach. When God provides manna in the wilderness, it’s not about keeping the Israelites alive for another day. It’s about the present… and the presence. About the relating… and the relationship. The reality of the spiritual strength that is offered to us through Jesus, by the work of the Spirit… that reality is so that we can live, right now. So that we can believe that God is with us, right now. So that we can grow into our potential as God’s beloved, right now. 
            Part of the work to which we are called letting go of the idols of our memories, breaking the bonds of what we thought would be, and helping our neighbors to do the same. We have a very real present in which to live, a very Real Presence that feeds and sustains us. In order to appreciate these gifts and their accompaniments, forgiveness, reconciliation, hope, we have to be willing to be open to the immediate work of the Spirit. We have to accept that God is still speaking. We have to expect that Christ will feed us. We must believe that what God is doing, right now, in our lives and in the world, is greater than what we could have expected or dreamed.
            And then we find ourselves released from the bondage of our memories, false as they were. And we find ourselves in a gracious present, lacking nothing, equipped and energized to carry the bread of life into the world. Whether we are Olympian, pastor, lawyer, teacher, accountant, retiree, homebody, or president. 

Monumental Transfiguration (Sermon 2/19)

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Transfiguration (NL, Year B)

19 February 2012
Mark 8:27-9:13 
            I’m going to Washington, DC at the end of March for a church conference. What should I see while I’m there? (Vietnam Memorial, Washington Monument, etc) What are those things for? They serve as markers and reminders (monuments) to events and people of the past. They help us remember things we have promised not to forget and things we might try to forget and things we truly want to remember. Monuments serve as markers for the best and worst parts of our human nature, which is part of why we build them. Other people in other countries make the same effort, showing birthplaces and homes of famous leaders, historic places of worship, sites of battles and deaths.
            Knowing how likely we are as people to erect monuments and (now) to make attempts to preserve historic locations, can we really blame Peter for his desire to build a tent on top of that mountain? After all, throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, there were many locations where people put up cairns or rock altars to commemorate God’s help or blessing. Here, on this mountaintop, Peter, James, and John have seen Moses and Elijah. (How they knew it was Moses and Elijah I have NO idea.) Literally in front of their eyes, they see the person through whom God gave the law and the foremost among the prophets.
            Not only is Peter seeing the two main heroes of Jewish faith, but he’s also seeing two people who have no monument other than their deeds. When Moses is not able to enter the Promised Land with the Israelites, he dies and is buried. They don’t carry his body with them and their motion is forward. No one knows where he is buried by the time anyone could go back to mourn him in location.
            Elijah is taken up into heaven in a whirlwind- a crash of thunder and winds that terrifies everyone who sees it. There’s no monument to Elijah. No specific place to go and contemplate his deeds. Again, the two main heroes of the Jewish faith have no monument other than their deeds.
           
Peter may be uncertain about what it means to believe Jesus is the Messiah, but he knows what to do if he’s seeing Moses and Elijah. Not only is this location obviously holy, but also a monument here would be helpful to so many people. What a good idea! And if they’re sticking around to build a monument, you know what they don’t have to do… head into Jerusalem. If what Jesus says about betrayal and death is true, maybe they can forestall it by working here on a monument, on booths that celebrate the revelation of Moses and Elijah.
            Then the voice comes from heaven, saying, “This is my beloved Son, listen to him!” And with that the idea of a monument, as well as Moses and Elijah are gone, and they are there with Jesus and no one else. The disciples are still struggling, not just Peter, with what they are seeing as they travel with Jesus. They are trying to reconcile what they’ve heard their whole life with regard to the Messiah and the fact they believe… they want to believe… they’re trying to believe that God’s Anointed (Messiah) is right there with them.
            Not only is Jesus not acting in the swift justice, furious vengeance, David/Moses/Elijah hybrid that was dreamed (and maybe promised), but he’s also telling his disciples that they can’t follow him and act in that manner. In other words, they have to tear down the monuments of their expectations- the Messiah monuments in their hearts and minds- so that they can actually experience the Jesus who is right there with them. The Rock of their own imagination is stopping them from hearing the living Word, the Rock of Ages,  right there with them.
            The same thing happens to us. We have monuments… Bible translations, liturgies, denominational polity,… that we have built based on who we think Jesus is. We then get caught up in maintaining those monuments, which we interpret as right religious behavior, and forget to listen to the Living Word, to Jesus. Part of how we are to interpret Scripture, our own actions, our decision making is through the lens of Jesus- what Jesus would do and what Jesus would have you do… have us do. The monument, the marker, we build for Jesus is how we live our lives. 
            The mountain of the Transfiguration gives us a glimpse of Easter- just before we go back down the valley into the season of Lent… for the walk to Jerusalem. It may sound strange to say, but Easter becomes another monument that gets in our way… in the way of hearing the voice of Jesus. When we become intensely focused on the death and resurrection, we make just another monument of the cross and empty tomb. Another place to visit, to be moved by, and to leave.
            But listen to the voice of Jesus… we can be… we are transfigured as disciples for this life. We aren’t simply waiting for heaven, but we have the Messiah in our midst for living right now. This is a monumental advantage to a living God, to a God-with-us. We have received the Spirit so that we may be transformed and be transforming in our every day lives right now.
            Was Jesus the Son of God? Was he the Messiah? Did he walk on the earth? Does he meet us today? In essence, are God’s promises true? (Can I get an amen?)
            As part of the on-going transfiguration of our faith, we (like Peter, James, and John) have to tear down the monuments we have built to what we want Jesus to be, what we have made Jesus out to be… and allow Jesus’ voice to show us who He (and through Him, God) really is. This is part of the work of Lent- to hear and be changed by the radical power of who Jesus is… in his whole ministry. We, too, are being told to listen to the Beloved Son.
            What does Jesus say to his disciples, some of those hard words: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” That’s not a call to monument building- to lovely memorials of stone or gardens or well-preserved houses. It’s a call to a full life, lived in the Spirit… a transfiguring life that does not leave the world the same… a life that begins the minute you and Jesus go down the mountain.
Amen.