Welcome to my sermon archives.
The community that Nina had created and cultivated over generations of campers and counselors was one where authentic testimony was not just welcomed, but expected. It was not too much to speak of deep pain and the loving God who sees us through it. It was normal.
Science tells us that this is the longest night of the year and from now until summer it only gets lighter. Thank you, science, that’s good to know. But for tonight, it is still dark.
At times my relationship with this beloved book is more academic and less devotional. I turn in to my professors my soulful study and reflection, only to have it returned to me with a letter grade and corrections written in red ink. But, all of this study is a gift. Slowly, this book is becoming more like a mirror and less like a hallmark card. The Bible and I are less polite with each other, and more likely to hold each other accountable.
What if this is not just a story about showing acts of mercy and generosity? What if it’s a story about everything?
My favorite part of this story is the part where he calls them a brood of vipers.
My second favorite part of this story is what they say back to him after he tells them this is more than they bargained for - what then should we do?
When I meet Jesus face to face, the last thing I want to hear is, “Janice, you were so careful. But I really wanted more for you”
The thing about a means of grace, is that it is, by definition, ordinary. The bread of Holy Communion is just bread, until God gets ahold of it. The waters of baptism are just water, until God puts it to use.
The coffee is just coffee. The salmon is just salmon. The pizza is just lunch. The Chinese food is just take out. And the pimento cheese, as good as it is, is just a spread…until it becomes a part of something more.
Like so many of us, the writer of Psalm 139 is a complicated person. The Psalm contains praise and gratitude, but it also includes rage and revenge. I’ve had days like that, I might be having one today.
This phrase that my brain has fashioned to make me feel better, fails almost immediately. Because my heart can’t stay in love with God, if God is dosing out suffering in accordance with my ability to handle it.
The problem with idols, or even with stained glass images, is that they are static. They don’t move or breathe. They cannot adapt or change, because they aren’t real. This story is not stained glass material.
When a tree falls into a creek, it might block the flow of water for a time, but water finds a way. It keeps moving and eventually the tree becomes a part of the flow.
So it is with God’s care for us…
I don’t want you to panic. I’m not going to ask you to make a big addition to your Christmas plans, and I’m not going to ask you to take anything away from your Christmas plans. I’m just asking you to stay awake.
The disciples ask Jesus to explain the parable of the weeds in the field. And I can see why. If I had been a disciple hearing this parable for the first time, I would think, “I’m wheat, right? I’m following Jesus, so I’m not a weed. Who are the weeds? Is that guy a weed? I bet he is. What did Jesus say we should do about weeds again?” I would be so busy locating myself in this story, and trying to avoid the fires of hell, that I would not hear the two brief parables that follow.
Grief is like a feral cat. She doesn’t come when I call, and she doesn’t stay away if I ask her to leave me alone. She shows up whenever and wherever she chooses. When I see her coming, I never know if it’s going to be a friendly encounter, or if I’m going to spend the rest of the day soothing scratches and bite marks she left behind.
Anytime we choose to hide the truth, or to present something other than the whole truth, it should give us pause, and we should ask ourselves, why? And our answer to that question needs to be brutally honest.
I’ve seen a bandaid save a trip to the zoo. I’ve seen a bandaid save a day at the beach. I watched that kindergartener on the playground get his bandaid, get up, and walk right into school. This may seem tricky, or even deceitful, but it’s not. When I put a bandaid on a child who doesn’t have a cut or a scrape, but who feels like they are not ok, I am helping them to understand what is already true. They are, in fact, ok. They are taken care of. They are good.
When it comes to preaching, I value authenticity. I try never to preach from someone else’s experiences. It’s unusual for me to share stories that aren’t from my own life. So, in order to remain authentic, I need you to know that I’ve never been in jail. Yet.
Acknowledging grief and loss before God is an act of faith. When we do this, we testify to the truth that no part of us is inaccessible to God, and we are loved as whole people. Offering our pain and disappointment to God can be heavy, but it can also leave us feeling lighter. It can make us cry, and it can also make us laugh. It can put us in touch with our lostness, and also make us realize we’ve been found. It can do all of those things at the same time.
At my first appointment my Physical Therapist, Trey, asked me at least one hundred questions, and then moved my arm, neck, back and shoulder all over including making it hurt on purpose, and then asking follow up questions about the pain. After an hour of this he explained what I’d done - a labral tear in my shoulder. And I said, “Oh, so if I tore a muscle I just need a sling right? I should stop using it so it can heal?” He literally laughed at me. Then through his n95 mask he said “It’s not a muscle. It’s connective tissue, and the last thing you should do is stop using it.”
This weirdness means that God is here. God is doing things, whether you are ready for them or not. God will surprise you, and God will use you to surprise others, and in recognizing God at work you will find salvation. If you were looking for anything clearer, like a sign that you should go this way instead of that way, or plant this crop instead of that crop, or worship in one place or another, that’s not what’s happening now. God is here. That’s what it means.
