The Present of Presence

“The Present of Presence” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Sterling, Colorado on Sunday, July 17, 2016. Inspirations for this sermon include Scripture, current events, commentaries, Clinical Pastoral Education experiences, and “Misery” by Anton Chekhov.

—————————————

Luke 10:38-42

38 Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. 39 She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. 40 But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” 41 But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; 42 there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

—————————————

I recently read a short story by late Russian writer and playwright Anton Chekhov as part of the curriculum for my Clinical Pastoral Education as a hospital chaplain. The story is titled, “Misery” with the tagline, “To Whom Shall I Tell My Grief?” The story – written in 1886 – tells the tale of the sledge-driver Iona Potapov as he struggles to tell someone—anyone—about the recent death of his son.  Throughout the night Iona gives rides on his large sled pulled by his mare. Three times Iona attempts to share his grief from the loss of his son. He tells a military officer, he tells a group of drunkards, he tells the young stable boy; all three dismiss Iona’s story and leave Iona to process his grief alone. His story is ignored; his grief builds up; his loneliness sets in. There’s no one to listen to Iona’s story until at the end of the story where Iona goes out into the cold winter stables to visit his mare that pulled his sled all through the night. It is then to her that he shares his grief. Listen to the end of Chekhov’s story:

“The old man sighs and scratches himself.... Just as the young man had been thirsty for water, he thirsts for speech. His son will soon have been dead a week, and he has not really talked to anybody yet.... He wants to talk of it properly, with deliberation.... He wants to tell how his son was taken ill, how he suffered, what he said before he died, how he died.... He wants to describe the funeral, and how he went to the hospital to get his son's clothes. He still has his daughter Anisya in the country.... And he wants to talk about her too.... Yes, he has plenty to talk about now. His listener ought to sigh and exclaim and lament....

"Let's go out and have a look at the mare," Iona thinks. "There is always time for sleep.... You'll have sleep enough, no fear...."

He puts on his coat and goes into the stables where his mare is standing. He thinks about oats, about hay, about the weather.... He cannot think about his son when he is alone.... To talk about him with someone is possible, but to think of him and picture him is insufferable anguish....

"Are you munching?" Iona asks his mare, seeing her shining eyes. "There, munch away, munch away.... Since we have not earned enough for oats, we will eat hay.... Yes,... I have grown too old to drive.... My son ought to be driving, not I.... He was a real cabman.... He ought to have lived...."

Iona is silent for a while, and then he goes on:

"That's how it is, old girl.... Kuzma Ionitch is gone.... He said good-bye to me.... He went and died for no reason.... Now, suppose you had a little colt, and you were the mother to that little colt. ... And all at once that same little colt went and died.... You'd be sorry, wouldn't you?"

The little mare munches, listens, and breathes on her master's hands. Iona is carried away and tells her all about it.”

My chaplain colleagues and I have a running joke as a lesson we took away from this story. When we visit with a patient or a patient’s family, we try to channel the mare. “Be the mare,” we often say, “Be the mare. Be attentive; be aware; be compassionate; be present. Listen to their story. Be the mare….. Be the mare.”

Then we turn to our Gospel reading for today: Jesus visits the sisters Mary and Martha. The story is relatable to Chekhov’s for there is one character that is attentive and aware and compassionate and present. There is one character that listens to the story. Similar to the mare, we have the character Mary. Be the mare. Be the Mary.  But what about Martha? Reading this story would cause one to think the Mary did everything right and Martha did everything wrong… but this isn’t completely true. Let me explain.

Chapter ten in the Gospel of Luke is filled with acts and challenges for Christians today to follow. It has the mission of the seventy where Jesus tells seventy of his followers to go into the towns ahead of them to evangelize, heal the sick, and spread peace. Jesus tells them to go into houses and to eat and drink whatever their hosts provide. “Go on your way,” he tells them, “Go.”

Then directly preceding Jesus’ visit to Mary and Martha is The Parable of the Good Samaritan. It is a well-known parable that tells the story of a man who during his journey from Jerusalem to Jericho fell into the hands of robbers. As the man laid there crippled on the road, two times was he passed and ignored. It wasn’t until a Samaritan saw the man, bandaged his wounds, and took him to the nearest inn where the Samaritan paid for the man’s recovery. Jesus’ lesson in this parable was for his followers to be like the Samaritan. “Go and do likewise,” he tells them. “Go. Do.”

So can we really blame Martha? She was going and doing, going and doing. She was being a good host. She was extending hospitality to her guest.  She was trying to listen to and follow the very advice that Jesus had just given to his followers. Going and doing. But Martha became distracted by this advice, and she became worried by Jesus’ teachings. In fact, in attempt to be a good host, Martha lost what makes a host a good host in the first place: attentiveness, awareness, compassion, and presence.

Mary, on the other hand, did not help her sister. She was not going or doing. Rather, she sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. She was present with Jesus, and Jesus was present with her. When Martha complained at the lack of her sister’s help, Jesus invites Martha to do the same as her sister Mary reminding Martha that his presence is the thing needed and the thing that will not be taken away from them.

What Martha did wasn’t completely wrong. What Mary did wasn’t completely right. Mary was just able to discern what was better in that moment, and in that moment the sisters needed to be with Jesus. They needed to sit at Lord’s feet and receive his words. They needed to be in his presence for at that moment; that was his gift to them. It was the present of presence, and I think we could all use that same gift today, a reminder that we are in the presence of one another and in the presence of the Lord.

This summer has been filled with pain and grief, sorrow and anguish. From the shooting in Orlando where 49 LGBTQ people of color were shot down to deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile. From police officers lives that were lost in Dallas and Baton Rouge to terrorist attacks overseas. In Turkey, in France, In Syria. In the Middle East. Even this week on Wednesday, July 20 is the four-year anniversary of the Aurora movie theatre shooting.  It’s these events and these acts of violence that make me want to scream and cry and lament, “How long, O Lord? How long?”

And then I read a story like Chekhov’s where a man tells his grief to a mare or the story where Jesus invites Mary and Martha to be in his presence, and I am reminded that I am not alone. I am reminded that God—the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer of all life—is present this day and all of days. This is promised, and this will not be taken away. The very presence of God, Christ, and the Spirit will not be taken away. They cannot be taken away. No worries or distractions can take them away. No amount of grief or sorrow or pain or anguish can take them away. Nothing. Nothing can or will take them away for it is written nothing in creation will separate us from the love and grace and presence of our Lord and Savior.

We live in a society where we believe our worth is measured by how busy we are, what we accomplish, or how well we meet the expectations of others. It’s okay to be busy and it’s okay to succeed… but when it feels like the world is falling down around us, we need to be reminded of something else. If it’s your world or the world of the people you love, if it’s the world of your neighbor or the world of the strangers across the globe, know this. When the world falls down around you, God stands taller and mightier and greater. Be reminded of this. We are called to be in the gracious presence of Jesus. We are called to listen to his words. We are called to remember that we are not valued for what we do or how well we do it, but simply for the fact that we are individually, wonderfully, and fearfully made children of God.

Our hearts may break, but they will be healed. Our souls may shatter, but they will be restored. 

Neither Mary nor Martha were wrong. Martha went and did. Mary listened and received. The challenge is to discern when one over the other is better in that moment. Listening and doing.  Being in the presence of God and serving our neighbor. Both are vital to Christian life. It’s like inhaling and exhaling. One is not better than the other, but both are necessary for us to breathe. Both work in partnership to fill our lungs with fresh air, so that we may continue on our way. Like the breath that fills our bodies, God’s presence fills our soul, so that we may continue to receive God’s Word and to serve our neighbors. Be the mare. Be the Mary. Be the Martha. Be you in the presence of God.

My friends, Jesus invites you to sit and rest at his feet and to hear his words of beauty and truth. He calls you to know that you are loved beyond measure and valued without comparison. You are a child of God; we are all children of God. Be renewed in your faith and be strengthened for your service. God is with you this day and all of days. It is the gift of grace. It is the present of presence. Thanks be to God.

—————————————

Gracious God, Merciful God, Loving God; we ask you remind us of your presence. Be with us in our times of grief and suffering. This world is filled with pain, but it is also filled with joy. Help us to remember that. Allow us to sit at your feet and receive your Word. Allow us to go out and serve our neighbor. Allow us to love the same way you love us. We know nothing can separate us from your presence, O God, and we give you thanks for that. Your love and grace are gifts of abundance to us. In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.

—————————————

What God Will Do

“What God Will Do” was preached at Lawrence Road Presbyterian Church on Sunday, May 22, 2016. It was my “farewell” sermon after two years of working there as a pastoral intern. Inspirations and themes for this sermon include Scripture, the doctrine of the Trinity, a guided meditation experience, testimony, and the preparation for whatever is next.

—————————————

John 16:12-15

12 “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. 13 When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. 14 He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. 15 All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”

—————————————

At our Love of God youth retreat… towards the beginning of the weekend… on the first morning right after breakfast as some of our youth are still in the process of waking up, one of the adults reads a “Walking with Jesus” meditation. During this time we invite the youth and the adults that are listening to find their own private space as they imagine a place and time where they come before Jesus and let him know about anything that is on their mind or their heart. The meditation guides the listeners through a thoughtful, interesting spiritual discipline that actually allows the individual to have their own private conversation with Jesus. This year, my meditation went a little like this.

I found myself in a room. Not too big and not too small. It was a good-sized, average room. And it was white. White everywhere. White walls, a white ceiling, a white floor. And it wasn’t the bad, boring kind of white décor. It was clean and radiant, warm and inviting. There was no visible light source, yet the room was filled with this pure, glowing light. Not one single shade of darkness or shadow made its way across the room. It was all white and light and warm. I found myself in the center of this white room feeling at peace with what was surrounding me.

Also in the center of the room was giant, plump sofa chair. It was a red chair--crimson to be specific. The chair was large enough that I could sprawl my body out and take a nap yet small enough that I could sit up straight and it would be tightly snug against my body. It was perfectly molded to me. It was the type of chair you would find in front of a fireplace in a log cabin or surrounded by cases of books in the middle of magical library. The room was white; the chair felt right, so here I was, still feeling at peace. Even more so, I felt comfortable and relaxed. I was calm.

But this feeling did not last. The meditation guides the listener to imagine Jesus is coming, and I found myself still in the white room sitting on my red chair, but suddenly I saw a figure in the distance. The room doesn’t open or expand, but as part of the white wall itself, a black figure—small, blurry and hazy—started to appear. As I continued to stare, the black figure became larger, clearer, and more profound. I had a sense that it was coming towards me, but I questioned where was it coming from at all. It was just… there. A black figure coming from the white wall while I sit in my red chair…

As the black figure continued to come towards me, the room around me was transformed. The white walls seemed to now shine with a harsh, bright light. The red chair felt like a sharp rock against back. The figure was now in front of me, but I could not allow myself to look up at his face. I could only stare at his feet. I noticed the piercings in his black feet.

The black figure called to me, but I could only continue to stare at his feet. I was uncomfortable and afraid. As he invited me to look unto his face, anxiety came rushing back like a wild flood of water. I refused. I couldn’t. I kept staring down as I said, “I’m not ready… I’m not ready….” He whispered in a voice that I could hear within me and around me, “Be still and know that I am God.” But I just kept repeating over and over, “I’m not ready…. I’m not ready…. I’m not ready….”

Being a pastor was never a part of my plan. Yes, I believe it was always a part of God’s plan, but it was never a part of mine. It wasn’t my childhood dream or aspiration. I didn’t imagine it in middle school or high school. It didn’t even cross my mind until my final year of college. Even then I said, “Being a pastor is maybe something I’m called to… but probably not!”

It was the “maybe” that brought me to seminary and it was the “maybe” that changed my life for the better. But every step of the way, from my youngest of years to my first year of seminary, I resisted God and this plan in every way that I could. Like in my meditation before, I just found myself repeating over and over through the years, “I’m not ready… I’m not ready… I’m not ready…”

Then I found myself at Lawrence Road Presbyterian Church as just another seminarian intern. The past two years have been quite the journey and experience. Now I know Lawrence Road has had many interns over the years, some who continue to worship here, so I figured the congregation must know the feeling of almost what to expect. They expect a seminarian who has much to learn, which they are right to expect as I had much to learn. They notice each seminarian’s unique strengths and weaknesses, and they choose to support the seminarian in both. For me, a weakness was I never smiled during worship during my first few months, and yet the congregation chose to love and support me anyway. Although the congregation at Lawrence Road kind of know what to expect with each new seminarian, the seminarian has no idea what he or she is getting into at Lawrence Road. I had no idea what I was getting into at Lawrence Road.  It came at such a formational, transitional time in my life. It was a time as I began to truly live into my calling to ministry. I was still telling God, “I’m not ready!” but God said, “I will make you ready. Through the people and experiences at Lawrence Road, I will make you ready.”

That is exactly what happened. Through many Sunday School classes to even more Sunday worship services; through weddings and funerals and even an ordination service; through youth group and community dinners; in sickness and in health; in richer and poorer-er-er; I was being made ready to serve Christ and the people of Christ. This was all done in two years… but Lawrence Road has been there for 100 years. In the fall, the congregation of Lawrence Road celebrated their 100^th year! I remember sitting with all of them outside under a large canopy as the Rev. Dr. Nina Reeder preached a sermon titled, “What God Has Done For Us.” At the end of the sermon, Nina read off testimonies that members of the congregation wrote stating exactly what the title suggests, “What God has done for us.” As I heard each of those testimonies, I felt blessed by a church that supports individuals and its community, and I felt blessed by God who supports the church that supports individuals and its community.

But still I had that same feeling of not feeling ready I remember thinking, “God has done so much at just this church alone; how can I do this?” But that brings us to our Gospel lesson from today. A message fitting for Trinity Sunday, as we are all still being made ready for what’s next—whatever “next” is.

In a farewell sermon that lasts almost four chapters in the Gospel of John (John 14-17), Jesus took a moment to declare, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” How frustrating that must have been for the disciples! How ambiguous and unclear! At this point, the disciples have been told to be merciful, to be pure in heart, to be the peacemakers. They have been told the most important commandment is to love God and the second is to love their neighbor. They were told that life wouldn’t always been easy for them but that they shouldn’t worry. They were told they MUST take up their cross. And right when they’re on the edge of learning the meaning of life, right as they are about to be handed the key to all light, grace, and truth; Jesus says (in my own paraphrase), “I cannot tell you. I will not tell you. I want to – I really want to, but you are not ready. None of you are ready.”

I believe Christ continues to hang us on this balance of seeing what God has done and knowing what God will do. We suppose it would be easy to see what God has done. This is not always the case. Sure, we can look back on our lives and see where God had intervened. We give thanks for our blessings and we remember our happy times. We recall the moments we rejoiced and we smile at the memories where we gave God our praise. But we also remember our hardships, our time of grief and sorrow. We may ask ourselves, “Where was God there? Why did I need to be sad… or angry… or depressed… or filled with hate? What did God do there?” And if it is hard for us to see all the things that God has done, it must be even more difficult to know what God will do—to believe in what God can do. In our times of trial, what do we believe about the actions of God? Are we ready for what life can throw at us? Are we ready for what God will do for us? Are we ready to walk with Jesus? In a white room or in a garden? Before the banquet feast or in the heavenly kingdom? Are we ready? Christ, as told in this passage, tells us that we are not. My friends, we are not ready.

But maybe that’s the point. That it is okay that we are not ready. That we might not ever be fully, completely, 100% ready. That even on our days when we shout, “But God, I am ready!” and even on the days we when cry, “O Lord, I am not!” that either way God replies, “Be still and know that I am God… Ready or not, I am God… And I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

That’s the message I want to leave you with. Life will take each of us on our own separate journey, and each of you will experience life completely different from the person next to you. Your story will be different than her story, and her story will be different than his story. You will face hardships. You will lose loved ones. Jobs will come and go. You will experience sickness, maybe something small or maybe something that impacts your life forever. Any day you could feel sad and then angry and then frustrated or upset, maybe even depressed or filled with sorrow, hate, and grief. We know life will hit us hard at times, but we also know can never be ready for it.

Because if our God can put Godself upon to cross to die and defeat death in resurrection glory, then we know that our God can turn our greatest sorrows into our greatest joys... but we are not ready for this. In our human brokenness, we have become comfortable with what life is and not with what life could be. Remember, we have been given new life in Christ; a life where something is actively working within us and around us. We have been given a life where even when we experience hardships, we will also experience times that make us smile…. And laugh…. And feel loved and accepted and ready. That’s the Spirit. That’s the power of the Spirit.

Even if we do not understand it, the Spirit is there. Even if we are not ready for it, the Spirit is there. Let me say it again and again: The Spirit is there. The Spirit has been there. The Spirit will be there. For whatever is next and wherever your individual journey takes you, the Spirit will work within you to make you ready. This is what God will do.

Jesus tells us in John 14:6, “I am the way, the truth, and the light.” In our passage today, verse 13 says, “When the Spirit of Truth comes, he will guide you into all truth.”

We will be led into all truth. The Truth of the world and the Truth of heavenly kingdom. Christ the king, the Truth, is already inside you. New, eternal life has been given to you, and love over- and ever-flows towards you. The days when you find yourself separated from anything good, the days when you feel separated from the Truth; that’s when the Spirit will guide you once again. Your Truth is already there, and the Spirit will make it known. The Truth is you are loved beyond measure; the Truth is Christ.

What God has done and what God will do… I give thanks. Father, Spirit, and Son – ready or not – they are at work. One God in three Persons, the Truth and Light of the world. The Trinity – the Way for our journey.

As my time at Lawrence Road Presbyterian came to the end, I found myself back in that white room standing before the black figure once again saying, “I’m not ready… I’m not ready…”

But I could not stay in that red chair forever… and neither can you. The black figure extends his hand, and we must grab it, even if we are not ready, we must grab it. We will be made ready in Christ. It is time to break down the walls. It is time to see what life can be. It is time to walk with Jesus, and it is time to let the Spirit guide us into all Truth—the Truth that is Christ. Thanks be to God. Amen.

—————————————

O God, we give thanks for this day. In our human brokenness, we consistently tell you and show you that we are not ready. We know the great things you have done for us, but sometimes we lose hope in the great things we know you will do. Restore our hope in us, O God. Fill us with your Spirit to guide us into all Truth. Prepare us; make us ready. You are our Truth, O God, and we give you our greatest praise and glory. In Christ’ name we pray. Amen.

—————————————

Seeing the Light

 “Seeing the Light” was preached on April 5, 2016 at Princeton Theological Seminary as part of my “When Sundays Come Quicker Than Sermons” course. It was part of the social justice unit. Inspirations for this sermon include Scripture, personal experiences, redemption & reconciliation, and the need for prison ministry.

—————————————

Acts 9:1-20

1 Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest 2 and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. 3 Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. 4 He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” 5 He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. 6 But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.” 7 The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. 8 Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. 9 For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

10 Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, “Ananias.” He answered, “Here I am, Lord.” 11 The Lord said to him, “Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, 12 and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight.” 13 But Ananias answered, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; 14 and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” 15 But the Lord said to him, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; 16 I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” 17 So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” 18 And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, 19 and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus, 20 and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues, saying, “He is the Son of God.”

—————————————

Several years ago I remember sitting with a stranger in what I imagine would have been one of the lower moments of her life. The night before she had been arrested for a DUI charge. As she cried and cried, this stranger told me how her life was over and how her dreams were shattered. She worried she would get kicked out of school.  She worried she would never be able to get a job. She even worried her parents would cut her off and disown her due to her being a “disappointment” as a child. She believed she would carry that one night with her for the rest of her life. She cried and she cried and she cried.

As this was several years ago, this was also around the time I was coming to terms with my own Christian identity. I remember sitting with her in that moment and asking myself the cliché question, “What would Jesus do? What would Jesus say?” I didn’t have the answer. In fact, while I may have felt compassion for this stranger, I also felt angry. I was angry with myself for getting involved. I was angry with the stranger for mistake she had made. I was angry with the police officer that made this girl feel like a worthless, broken criminal. But most of all, I was angry with God for I believed it was God that let this girl – this stranger to me – think that she would be defined for the rest of her life by the punishments and consequences that would come from this one mistake.

This stranger came and went. After an hour or so of sitting with her, she would leave and I would never see her again. However, this anger did not leave me so quickly. It sat with me longer. Over the course of the next few days all I could think was about how justice system in America was represented by the consequences and punishments this stranger would experience after just one mistake. I despised that idea, so I decided I wanted to play my part in changing that. Since it was at the same time I was first starting to develop my Christian beliefs and since these beliefs would eventually shape my call during my time at seminary, this revelation of wanting change came as a pivotal, formational moment of in my own calling to ministry. Therefore, although I didn’t know how I would do it or what it would look like, I would eventually realize volunteering in ministry was meant to be a part in my call. Part of this means I must believe in and advocate for what we can do for the men and women who are currently incarcerated.

In our lectionary Epistle reading we have the story of the call and conversion of Saul. We would eventually know him as Paul, writer of nearly half the books found in the New Testament. Saul wasn’t always the great disciple of Jesus Christ like we know him to be today. Before his conversion, he wasn’t even a follower of Christ. Rather, Saul was a persecutor calling for the death of all those who declared Jesus Christ as Lord. Day after day, mistake after mistake, Saul would threaten and punish anyone who believed differently than himself. He could have even been considered an enemy to Christ and an enemy to the Gospel. However, Christ did not punish Saul for being the enemy. Rather, he made Saul see the light. Literally, Christ made Saul see the light. It was a light so bright that Saul was blinded for three days. While going without sight while also going without food or drink I’m sure is a punishment worth mentioning, it should also be said that while that was happening, Saul was going through his own transformation found through Christ. It was a transformation filled with redemption and reconciliation and grace. It would be a transformation filled with chances for new beginnings and a better life. We hear at the end of this story that after Saul was blinded and lost for three days, he regained his sight and strength and declared Jesus as Lord, the Son of God.

This is what prison ministry can be today. Let us believe that the people inside of prison walls and jail cells will not be forever defined by their consequences or punishments or even the mistakes they made. We must believe they are worth the redemption found in Christ. We must believe they can be reconciled through Christ. We must believe grace has been extended to people inside incarceration from the Lord and Savior of All, Jesus Christ.

Following that moment with the stranger, I made the conclusion. If Christ died on the cross for me, then Christ must have died on the cross for you. If Christ died on the cross for Saul the enemy, then Christ must have died on the cross for a stranger. If Christ died on the cross for those who are free, then Christ must have died on the cross for those who are not. If Christ died on the cross for anybody, then Christ must have died on the cross for everybody. No one should be prevented from seeing the light.

I believe in what Christ has done and what Christ will do. I believe in redemption and reconciliation. I believe Christ can free the oppressed. We should not be defined by our mistakes. Rather, let us sit and pray with those who believe they are not worth being prayed for. Christ can work in mysterious ways. I give thanks to God for that. Amen.

—————————————

'I AM' More Than a Man

“‘I AM’ More Than a Man” was preached on March 29, 2016 at Princeton Theological Seminary as part of my “When Sundays Come Quicker Than Sermons” course. It was part of the social justice unit. Inspirations for this sermon include Scripture, feminist theology, inclusive language, and biblical titles for God.

—————————————

Exodus 3:1-15

1 Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 2 There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. 3 Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” 4 When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” 5 Then [God] said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” 6 [God] said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

7 Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, 8 and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. 9 The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. 10 So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” 11 But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” 12 [God] said, “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.”

13 But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” 14 God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” [God] said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I am has sent me to you.’” 15 God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’: This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.”

—————————————

A few months ago I preached and led worship at my home congregation First Presbyterian Church in Sterling, Colorado. As the service ended, I said a particular word towards the end of the benediction that left some of the congregation members in shock. Before I fully realized what I had said or how it would be received there, I looked out and saw faces varied with sly smiles or confused glances. While some of the members rejoiced in my word choice, I could tell others felt uncomfortable. When I asked myself why this would be, I made the conclusion the words I spoke must have been somewhat of a new and almost foreign concept. In all honestly, it was different than what most of us are used to when we make a reference to God. After I thought about this more, I realized the problem was I ended the service with a benediction without even explaining what I said or why I said it. Today I wanted to address that conversation.

Let us go back to that benediction. My exact words were, “May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord look upon you with favor and give you her peace.” It is a well-known benediction coming from the book of Numbers, but I made a few addendums with the word choice. We are okay with “his face.” Actually, I am sure some of us did not even notice the word “his” in there. We are used to that. We are comfortable with that. But when I said “her peace,” we seem to notice that one. The word “her” sticks out like a sore thumb, an awkward word placed towards the end of a phrase we know all too well. However, it is not meant to be awkward. It is meant to be inclusive. The idea is if I am going to refer to God with masculine language, I want to then balance it out by referring to God with feminine language. When it was received with shock and confusion, I knew we should have a conversation about why preachers such as myself occasionally use feminine language in reference to God and how I believe it can help us understand who God is and how God reveals Godself to us.

First, throughout Scripture in both the Older and Newer Testament, God is referred to both as male and female figures. In Genesis we are told both male and female alike are created in God’s image. In the Psalms and other Old Testament books God is sometimes referred to as a woman with labor pains and as a woman giving birth. There is an image of God as a midwife delivering humankind from suffering and hostility. Another time God is compared to holding the same compassion for her children as the compassion a woman has as she nurses her child. In some examples God is likened to a mother of humankind and other examples she is likened to a mother to a variety of animals such as bears, eagles, and hens. There is even a parable where God is explained as a woman searching for her lost coin. In other words, God as feminine figure is rooted in Scripture.

Now to the next idea. Whether God is referred to as a mother or a woman or as a king or a father, we must consider what we are actually saying and why we are saying it. We will never be able to fully explain who God is. Our human minds cannot fully grasp this topic. After all, even Moses had to turn his face when looking upon God. But to understand God the best that we can, we need to be open to embracing the variety of ways God reveals Godself to us. Therefore, I find it necessary to use masculine, feminine, and gender-neutral language when talking about God. Whether we refer to God as a male or a female, we must remember God is still God. God has always been God. God will always be God. God is… God.

We hear this in the words God spoke to Moses. When Moses poses God the question, “What is your name?” God responds with a cryptic yet oddly self-explanatory declaration. “I Am who I Am.” In Hebrew to English, this could also be translated as, “I Will Be who I Will Be.” In the years that have passed and in the years to come, the Great “I Am” has and always will be God. The “I Am” is the same God of Moses’ ancestors, the same God of Abraham, the same God of Isaac, the same God of Jacob, the same God of all. Always present, never changing; God as God. The “I Am” as the “I Am.”

I love this name for God. I love it because I do not believe there are words in our human vocabulary that can completely describe or encompass who or what God is. The closest we can say is “God is who God is. God will be who God will be.” Whether we refer to God as a masculine or feminine figure, we are not fully explaining who or what God is, but when we do, we are using words and images that help us understand God even better. Only referring to God as a masculine figure would limit our possibilities of explaining who God is or how God comes to us. By further limiting our vocabulary by only using masculine language in a vocabulary that is already limited by human knowledge constrains the idea of God to a reduced, incomplete, and a not-always-so-well-received figure. Using feminine language to describe God opens doors to new and greater possibilities of understanding the mystery that is God.

Refer to God as a man or refer to God as a woman; just understand that either way we are not fully describing who God is or how God reveals Godself to us. Rather, when we use both masculine and feminine language to describe God, we are expanding our understanding of God while being intentionally inclusive to the people around us. For some of us it is easier for us to see God as a father; for others it might be easier for us to see God as a mother. Be open to the possibility of both. Be open to the possibility of God as a masculine or feminine figure as truly, God is both and God is neither. After all, we are talking about the Creator of everything, everything including gender and the language we use. God as Father; God as Mother; God as the great “I Am.”

God is God. God was God. God will be God. God is who God is. That is enough of a reason to give thanks to God. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; one God, Mother of us all. Amen.

—————————————

Is Your Sanctuary a Safe Space?

          “Is Your Sanctuary a Safe Space?” was preached on March 22, 2016 at Princeton Theological Seminary as part of my “When Sundays Come Quicker Than Sermons” course. It was part of the course's social justice unit. While the intended audience for this sermon is for current and future leaders of the church, the message behind it is important for everyone to consider. Inspirations for this sermon include Scripture, commentaries, Pauline analysis and criticism, relevant issues in society, and the future of the church.

—————————————

Romans 1:1-17

1 Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, 2 which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, 3 the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh 4 and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, 5 through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name, 6 including yourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ,

7 To all God’s beloved in Rome, who are called to be saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

8 First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you, because your faith is proclaimed throughout the world. 9 For God, whom I serve with my spirit by announcing the gospel of his Son, is my witness that without ceasing I remember you always in my prayers, 10 asking that by God’s will I may somehow at last succeed in coming to you. 11 For I am longing to see you so that I may share with you some spiritual gift to strengthen you— 12 or rather so that we may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith, both yours and mine. 13 I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that I have often intended to come to you (but thus far have been prevented), in order that I may reap some harvest among you as I have among the rest of the Gentiles. 14 I am a debtor both to Greeks and to barbarians, both to the wise and to the foolish 15 —hence my eagerness to proclaim the gospel to you also who are in Rome.

16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. 17 For in it the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith; as it is written, “The one who is righteous will live by faith.”

—————————————

It is in Paul’s opening address to the Romans where we hear the need to listen to the good news found in the Gospel! We are called to belong to Christ. Each of us. All of us. It is through our belonging to Christ where we are also called to be in close fellowship with all of humankind. This includes people who were once strangers to us and with people who were once even our enemies. While we may label others – the ones Christ has called our neighbors – as strangers and enemies, we know the greatest enemy to this fellowship is ourselves. Our very nature and our lack of conversation has left our fellowships broken and individuals separated from one another. This is especially true in regards to the Church and the inclusion of the LGBTQ community, as both historically and in the world today, we have done what we can to explicitly and implicitly exclude this community from the universal Christian church.

As an openly gay man pursuing ordained ministry in the Presbyterian Church (USA), one of more common questions I get from my fellow queer brothers and sisters as well as those who identify outside of the gender binary is, “Is your sanctuary a safe space?”

This is a not a new or foreign question for me. As a member of the LGBTQ community, I know exactly what they are asking. When a member of the LGBTQ community asks you the question, “Is your sanctuary a safe space?,” they are asking “Is your church – all of your church including its members – open and affirming to LGBTQ individuals?” or “Are the LGBTQ individuals who enter through your doors at risk to become the subjects of abuse?”

Now I’m not just talking about physical abuse here – although it wouldn’t be wrong for LGBTQ folks to question their safety regarding that either. I am talking about emotional and spiritual abuse, and it can come from all different facets of ministry. It can be in the words delivered from the pulpit. It can be in the classroom as part of the curriculum to which students will be exposed. It can even be in the overheard conversations between members and colleagues during times of fellowship. All of these moments have the risk of teaching, judging, and condemning LGBTQ members of all ages that they are mistake of God’s creation, a sin not saved by Christ’s grace, or an abomination separated from power of the Spirit.

When we actually consider what kind of abuse is at risk here, we begin to understand “Is your sanctuary a safe space?” as a valid question. It should also be a haunting question. In a sanctuary – a sanctuary! – the question of safety is being asked! Please, take a moment, and consider that! In a sacred place where we come to join our voices together to glorify God, there are some of us who fear the very words that might be professed.  This question should be starting to bother us. It should be starting to haunt us. When you are asked the question, “Is your sanctuary a safe space?,” even if you answer with, “Yes,” the truth is you are only answering for yourself. Your congregations and the people you work with will also play a part.

Does your congregations support your claims? And for those of you working in ministry outside of the church, do your students or colleagues support yours? Can you honestly and fully 100% be certain that your place is a safe space? How do you know? Have you had these conversations with the people you work with? Would you be willing to have these conversations? Is sexuality, sexual orientation, or gender identity openly talked about in your setting? Do you know if the LGBTQ community is open and affirmed in your context? It is in these questions where the problem lies. If we are not willing to have to conversations with our congregations or the people we work with regarding inclusion of the LGBTQ community, we cannot be certain our sanctuary is a safe space.

Even if your theology or personal beliefs prevent you from being open and affirming to LGBTQ individuals, I urge you to at least consider this. The LGBTQ community is among the most complex and lonely minority group. Unlike any other minority group, members of the LGBTQ community are sometimes rejected by their own churches, friends, and families because of what makes them different. Remember, almost all LGBTQ individuals come from straight, CIS parents. Often starting at a very early age, LGBTQ individuals have a growing awareness that they are different from the rest of their family, and it is often something they go through all alone. They go through it alone because once again, it is something we have just not talked about. Is it really the Christian message to let others feel broken and alone?

These are the conversations we need to be having. 87% of United States citizens know someone in the LGBTQ community. If you are a member of the Princeton Theological community, then even some of your own friends, classmates, and faculty and staff identify as part of the LGBTQ community. When you know someone who is a part of this community, it is not so easy to avoid these conversations.

I know what follows in Romans 1. I know what some of us think Paul has said about the LGBTQ community. I know the verses and passages that might cause some of us to think at a surface level interpretation that homosexuality is a sin. But we need to wrestle with these passages; we need to consider what the Gospel is really calling us to understand. We must be willing to do our research. We must be willing to spend time in prayer. We must be willing to question what identity means and how the revelation of God can come to us through all sorts of people. We must be willing to talk about LGBTQ inclusion with each other and with our congregations and with our colleagues and with our students now and in all the years to come.

We are called to live into the Gospel of Jesus Christ for like Paul, we are not ashamed of the truth it brings. This is what the Gospel says: it says we are loved by our Creator, extended grace by our Redeemer, and set apart by our Sustainer. Our identity and our relationships with one another rely on the transformation found in the outpouring of God’s love, grace, and power. The LGBTQ community is not separated from this! God has not separated them from the church; we have! This is our doing, our responsibility… this is our failing. Instead of preventing the fellowship of believers by exclusion, we need to intentionally and purposely extend the invitation of inclusion as God has called us to do exactly that. Is your sanctuary a safe space? My friends, it is time to have that conversation. Amen.

—————————————