Obviously

“Obviously” was preached at Sunnyside Presbyterian Church on Sunday, March 24, 2019. Inspirations for this sermon included Scripture, commentaries, and both personal & shared experiences. You can listen to an audio clip of this sermon here. You can watch a video of the entire worship service here.

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Luke 13:1-9

1 At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2 He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4 Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

6 Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7 So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ 8 He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

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Take a second and imagine this with me:

There’s a small apple tree in your yard. Every fall, you saw the tree filled with fruit. For years the tree provided you with the most delicious of apples; a quick and easy snack to grab as you pleased.  Until one year, the tree didn’t provide you a multitude of apples. In fact, there were no apples that year. Or the next year. Or the next.

What would do you?

Would you give the tree one more year? Would you tend to this tree that was now barren? Do you have hope that all it needs is just a little more extra care?

Or would you cut it down? Would you replace it with a new tree? How long would you be willing to wait for this new tree to produce apples?

Now, due to the Gospel passage we all just heard, we have an idea of what we should do. Helpful hint: it’s keep the tree for one more year. Right?

But let’s be honest. If this is an actual tree that we’re talking about and not some analogy with a deeper meaning on judgement and grace or lifelessness and resurrection; if this was an actual apple tree in our backyard that hasn’t produced fruit in three years, how many of us would cut that tree down? How many of us would plant a new apple tree? And how many would just go get our apples from the closest Martin’s? If we’re just talking trees and apples here, I’m choosing the latter choice. Obviously.

But we’re not just talking trees and apples or just trees and figs. This is a parable of Jesus, and we know there is a much deeper meaning than the convenience of a healthy snack.

In Jesus’s parable, there is a vineyard owner and a gardener. The vineyard owner, after seeing a fig tree that has been barren for three years, tells his gardener to cut it down. But the gardener tells the vineyard owner to let the tree have one more year and he, the gardener, will tend to it, he will dig around it, he will lay manure to surround it; he will give it the extra special care that it needs. And if, after all that special care, if then the tree fails to produce any figs, should it be cut down.

As you might guess, in this parable, humankind is the barren tree. And sometimes, individuals as a part of humankind, are the barren trees. So to interpret ourselves into this parable, I want to approach it from three different moments where we find ourselves: the moments when we become the barren tree, the moments when we are the barren tree, and the moments when our barren tree is brought back to life.

I’m going to return to the first moment later in this sermon, the moment when we become the barren tree. Instead, I will start with when we are the barren tree.

In moments when we feel like we are fruitless or even lifeless, perhaps when we feel our perceived sin is at its greatest, God responds with the extra special care we need; with compassion and love and grace. And when God responds with that care in the times we need it most, it is our responsibility to respond with a willingness to be brought back to life. Because while God’s patience is great and while it can last forever, our own lives do not, which means when we become lifeless or when we sin, we must repent and turn back to God because we can’t be brought back to life without God. We would just remain the lifeless, barren tree that we are. And at any moment, that tree can be cut down, maybe through a tower falling or a mosque shooting, through a car accident or through cancer, that tree can be cut down.

I admit I sometimes get nervous saying things like that, to “repent or perish,” which is the actual heading of this passage. I get nervous preaching that because I don’t want any of us to interpret this passage out of misguided fear. The reason we repent is not solely for the reason that if we don’t, our tree will be cut down; we repent because as I said: when we need to repent, God responds with extra special care, with love and grace. And when we’re feeling lifeless, feeling extra love and grace is exactly what we need. And because we need it, we repent so that we’re given more. We repent to continue to receive the love and grace that God provides when we need it most.

And so when our tree is brought back to life, when we are brought back to life, we see that no barren tree, no person no matter the circumstance, is beyond the redeeming, reconciling power of 

God. This includes ourselves and our neighbors. None of us, not a single human being, gets to declare when the time for Jesus to restore is up. Because every time God sees a person that needs attention, God responds as a faithful Gardener. God says, “Give me time. Let me dig and tend. Let me nurture and nourish, prune and water. From me, expect transformation, growth, and fruit. Then we’ll all see what happens. Don’t cut it dead just yet.” That is what God our Gardener says.

Because the truth for all of us is that God sees none of us as a problem. God calls us to repent and be reconciled, and God will call us to do this through extraordinary measures to make sure this happens. And no amount of death, physical or metaphorical, can stop what God will do: resurrect, restore, and redeem.

So we’ve addressed what God is doing when we are the barren trees and when our barren trees are brought back to life. But why do we become the barren trees in the first place? Friends, that’s a tough one.

I can tell you that we become lifeless due to sin, but sin in itself is complicated to explain. The word “sin” has origins in archery actually, like missing the center of a target. To sin means to miss the mark of what God intended. And sometimes we don’t know what God intended, which means at times it’s actually pretty easy to miss the mark. Whether intentional or not, whether by our own means or by the means of others, we all miss the mark of what God intended.

When we are the barren trees, I mentioned this might be at moments when our perceived sin is at our greatest. I say “perceived sin” because I don’t think sin is specific actions that can always be named, but rather it’s whenever we miss the mark of what God intended. We become a barren tree when we believe that God can’t correct the mark that we missed.

I want to share a quick story with all of you.

When I was thirteen, around the same age as our confirmation students, my youth group went on a two-hour trip to a waterpark. During that trip, while we were all on the bus, two of our youth leaders were having a conversation about a same-sex couple they knew. This couple they were talking about had been trying to have a baby for several years, but unfortunately, each time one of them became pregnant, the pregnancy would end in a miscarriage. I’ll never forget what one of my youth leaders said as to why this was the case. The words are seared into my memories. She said, “Obviously this is God punishing them for the lifestyle they live.”

I apologize for how offensive this is, especially for those of you who have experienced any kind of loss during pregnancy, whether your own or someone you love. And although I wasn’t even certain if I believed these words for myself, my youth leader’s words were the ones I believed the church believed. For many years, I was deeply hurt by the church. I spent my years as a youth angry at the church and angry at God. And for several other reasons along the way, I refused to go back to church. When it came to my own relationship with God, I felt lifeless.

But here I am, a pastor in a church, with a focus in youth ministry. Part of the reason I am is because one day I knew that God wanted me to make sure the youth in my life never hear a message of poor theology that harms their relationship with God rather than lifts up their relationship with God.

To believe God punishes a certain group of people because their perceived sin is greater than their neighbors is poor and inaccurate theology. What did Jesus say about the Galileans who were killed? What did Jesus say about the eighteen that died when the Tower of Siloam fell on them? Were their sins any worse than their neighbors? Were they killed because of these sins? Twice, to make it clear, Jesus declares, “No!” They did not die because their sins were worse; in fact, they didn’t die because of their sins at all. Although tragic, their deaths happened and from the perspective of humankind, happened at random, and were beyond any of our control.

So isn’t that message still true today?

When 50 people of the Muslim faith are killed in a mosque shooting? When nearly three thousand died in the September 11 attacks? When 17 million were murdered during the Holocaust, 6 million of which were European Jews, two-thirds of that specific Jewish population?

How about when a teenager hears a poor message about God from someone they trust? Or what about a parent who loses a child? What about those who struggle with depression? Or those who fight off cancer?

What does Christ say about them?

It’s not out of punishment, I can tell you that. Christ says that those are the ones who need extra care right now. Those are the ones who need Christ’s love and grace more than ever. There’s nothing obvious about why bad things happen, or why we might feel like barrens trees at times, but Scripture reveals that the way Christ responds to our lifelessness with love; now that’s more obvious.

I believe I first heard my call to ministry when I was 13-years-old, the day that I heard that message. I didn’t realize this until I was 21. Because when I entered into a moment of lifelessness, I needed nearly ten years for God to transform me into a person with a call to serve God and the people of God. During that time God cared for me with love and grace through the people in my lives, with parents who loved me, with friends who encouraged me, and with mentors who empowered me. Obviously this was God the Gardener at work.

I urge you to remember this:

So much of what’s been labeled broken, impossible, and dead is ripe for radical, God-revealing transformation, growth, and new life. That’s the promise of the resurrection. Obviously.

Let’s go back to that scenario:

You’re back in your backyard, and you see that apple tree that once produced a multitude of apples that you’ve enjoyed over the years. Due to unforeseen circumstances, reasons beyond your control, that tree is now barren.

And if that tree is more than just a tree, and if that tree represents a youth who is lost, a neighbor in need, a stranger who is grieving, or even yourself, possibly angry or hurt at the world and at God, what do you do with that tree?

Do you cut down or do you tend to it with extra special care, with love and grace, in the same way we know that God does?

The answer is obvious.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Voices of Lament

“Voices of Lament” was preached on March 17, 2019 at Sunnyside Presbyterian Church. Inspirations for this sermon included Scripture, commentaries, research on hens, the sermon-writing process, current events, and reflection by my friend Rev. Allie Smith. You can listen to an audio clip of this sermon here.

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Luke 13:31-35

31 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” 32 He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. 33 Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ 34 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! 35 See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

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 “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

Friends, the last year we have seen and felt that death is around us. You know what I mean. Whether it is the physical death of someone we love or the end of a relationship, both have been experienced in life lately. This includes wives, daughters, husbands, sons, parents, grandparents, sisters, and brothers. They died, and that hurts us, unbearably so at times. Even the South Bend community lost students to death due to car accidents and even murder. And Indiana lost three children to death as they got out of their bus. Death is around us, and death comes with pain and heartache. And it’s so crushing, it feels like our breath is taken out of our bodies, but yet still we cry to God.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

In the last month, our own country was hit by even type of weather possible. I’m sure the world felt the same. Blizzards in the west, storms in the east, tornadoes in the middle. And I’m not just talking about light weather. Part of our country experienced avalanches and hurricanes, and other parts experienced flooding and wind so fierce it ripped buildings apart. They were mudslides and earthquakes, and even polar vortexes. And we all felt that, and those experiencing homelessness felt it even worse. So we make small talk about it; we talk about this “crazy” weather, but then we remember the lives lost in it, and we cry to God.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

And then in the last week, 50 people were shot down and killed in two Christchurch mosques in New Zealand, and at least 34 others are still in nearby hospitals being treated for their injuries, some critical. And while the majority of the world grieves for the deaths of people they do not know in this terrorist attack, others seem to look past it, as the victims are Muslim. And for some, apparently death does not matter when it is a Muslim person who is murdered, which makes my heart break even more because we fail to see the image of God in all people, and so I cry out and you cry out:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

I witness these stories of death in our own lives by natural causes and accidents, across the country due to weather, and across the world due to terrorist attacks; and I understand why Jesus was the first to cry out:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

Today, from the Gospel of Luke, we read five verses; just five verses. And it’s not a well known passage, but I’m sure you all know its context. Jesus is currently telling parables and healing the sick. Typical Jesus, am I right? While he is doing this, this warning comes to him: that Herod has plans to kill him. And let’s be clear, as I said, Jesus is telling parables and healing the sick, which I would argue are acts of love and mercy, but in those acts, his life is threatened. So it’s really no question when Jesus responds in the way that he does: he becomes frustrated, probably both angry and sad, and laments over Jerusalem for the threat against his life for doing acts of love. And because there is a threat against his life and because it’s not his time yet, Jesus leaves Jerusalem to continue his ministry: to tell parables and to heal the sick. It is also at this time that Jesus states he won’t return to Jerusalem until the people cry out, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” Those words might sound familiar, as those are the words spoken as Jesus rode the colt into the holy city of Jerusalem, as people waved palm branches and shouted, “Hosanna! Hosanna!”

So in the second Sunday of Lent, Jesus leaves Jerusalem, to which he will return as we wave our palm branches on Palm Sunday, four weeks from now. A full-circle journey, a journey that we are on as well.

But what really strikes me in this passage is Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem. Hear it again: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

As I prepared for this sermon and as I read commentaries and explanations of this passage, I came across this story about a hen:

“After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno’s damage. One ranger found a hen literally petrified in ashes, charred to the bone. It was perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick.

When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother’s wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had gathered her offspring under her wings. She could have left for safety, but she had refused to abandon her babies.

When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, so those under the cover of her wings would live.”

Beautiful story, right? This story is gold for preachers. This story is gold for parishioners. Jesus compares a hen covering her offspring with her wings to his own desire to gather his children under his arms. And this story is exactly that; a hen that was willing to die for her children, in the same way that Jesus died for his children, for us.

But then I noticed something, each commentary had minor but different details to the story. In one commentary it was a hen and in another it was a robin, and in one story, this all took place in in Yellowstone National Park and another took place in a barn. Even the ranger became a farmer at some point.

So being the faithful preacher that I am, I figured I would find the original story to use as the beautiful, uplifting symbolic illustration on how great this hen is and how this hen represents Jesus.

That is until after a quick and easy google search, I found out this story was made up by preachers to be a beautiful, uplifting symbolic illustration for their sermons. Then I realized that most pastors preach from the pulpit that lying is bad unless it’s for the sake of creating a really good story for a sermon.

So this story is made up, and I apologize to those of you who thought this story was poetic or beautiful or sacred or inspirational, because I did too. And then it wasn’t.

But! In my google search for the hen that protects her offspring in the fire, I found pictures and videos of hens protecting their offspring from other things. In one video, there was a hen with her wings outstretched with her chicks under them as rain poured on her, the mother. In another video, a hen chased a cat away. Then there was others video of a hen chasing away a dog… and a hawk… and even a small child, that one was hilarious, but still fitting for today’s symbolic illustration.

And then it hit me, while looking for Jesus through one story, Jesus came to me in unexpected stories. Which then made me realize this passage is complicated and short but yet as easy as one, two, three:

One – God comes to us.
Two – Sometimes we resist when God comes to us, through our own acts or through the acts of the world.
Three – God still comes to us.

And in step two, when we are resisting that love, that’s where we hear the voices of lament, either Jesus’ or our own. And that’s okay because although it hurts which causes us to lament, it’s part of the three step process and God will still come to us.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

Friends, we experience death every day, like a disaster of flames and smoke choking us out, and we cry, “How long, O Lord, how long?”

But Christ is there with us our lament, crying with us while sheltering us.

I leave you all with this, the opening and closing words of a reflection on this passage written by my friend and colleague in ministry, The Rev. Allie Smith:

“Gathered beneath the sheltering wings of God; protected behind the strong shield of God; washed by the tears of our grieving God … People of God: take heart in this moment. God, your God, is working for your life and salvation. God, your God, is bringing you home. Beneath God’s mothering wings: even in death, you shall live.”

Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Body Aches

“Body Aches” was preached at Sunnyside Presbyterian Church on Sunday, February 24, 2019. Inspirations for this sermon include Scripture, death & resurrection, this commentary, and current events. You can listen to an audio recording of this sermon here.

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1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50

35 But someone will ask, “How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?” 36 Fool! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. 37 And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. 38 But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body.

42 So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. 43 It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. 44 It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a physical body, there is also a spiritual body. 45 Thus it is written, “The first man, Adam, became a living being”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. 46 But it is not the spiritual that is first, but the physical, and then the spiritual. 47 The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. 48 As was the man of dust, so are those who are of the dust; and as is the man of heaven, so are those who are of heaven. 49 Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we will also bear the image of the man of heaven.

50 What I am saying, brothers and sisters, is this: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable.

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Two days from now, February 26^th is the six-year anniversary of the death of Dean Waldo Hall, my grandfather.

I remember the day he died quite well. In fact, it is one of the days I remember most. I was in the last semester of my senior year at the University of Northern Colorado, my North Dakotan grandfather’s alma mater. I spent the morning and early afternoon in class, a combination of both business courses and communications courses. Late that afternoon I went to my weekly counseling appointment. As I was leaving that appointment and driving back to campus to head into work, I received a call from my mom. When I picked up the phone, she asked what I was doing, and so I told her exactly that, that I was on my way back to campus to head into work. She asked me to call her after work as I only had a few moments before my shift started. I went to work that late afternoon. As a student ambassador in the office of admissions, one of our responsibilities was making calls to potential students. Cold calls are miserable, and more often than not, we went to voicemail and I’d always do my best to leave some cheerful, scripted message. After a few hours of this, still somewhat early in the evening, I was doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing, and I was scrolling through Facebook, distracting myself from the endless calls. As I scrolled, I came across something my cousin posted. The first line read: “The world lost a great man today: Dean Waldo Hall.”  

I froze. I couldn’t hear or see anything around me; not the voices of any ambassadors making their calls. My breath caught, my throat became tight, I choked on a dry lump.  I didn’t cry because it felt like all moisture had already left my body. I was in shock. I became light-headed, my stomach wrestled with an empty sinking feeling as knots were twisted inside my gut. I felt the nausea come suddenly. I was on the verge of becoming sick in my seat.

And then the world snapped back to reality, the rush came back. I quickly gathered my things, stood up, walked over to my supervisor, blurted out in a fumble, “my grandpa just died”, and I left. As I walked home, I called my parents to confirm what I already knew, what my mom wanted to tell me earlier in the day. And that was that.

On the days when I miss my grandpa the most, I get the same achy feeling in my body, like I’m about to be physically sick, starting with my stomach.

When my body responds to death, I feel like I’m about to be sick. When I’m in moments of immense shock and grief, I feel it physically throughout my entire body.

Friends, I’ve had a stomach ache the last three weeks. Most days it’s dull, but it’s there. Some days, like the day you all received that letter in the mail or two Sundays ago when I stood in the pulpit or even just this past Friday, my body becomes overwhelmed with toxicity of grief.

I know what my body is telling me. My body is responding to what feels like a death, a metaphorical ending. And friends, I know I’m not alone in this. I know we are all responding to this “end” in our own ways. We are all experiencing grief in the many diverse ways we experience grief, but nonetheless, we all know the grief is there.  

Thank God, and I really do mean this, Thank God! That Paul wrote about death in our scripture text for today.

Up to this point in chapter 15 in the first letter to the church in Corinth, Paul is still hammering in the central message of the Gospel: Christ has died. Christ was buried. Christ has risen. And Christ will come again to raise us. Paul will not the Corinthians forget that, nor will Scripture let us forget it: Christ has died. Christ was buried. Christ has risen. And Christ will come again to raise us.

Which bring us to verse 35. Paul starts our passage today with addressing a question he knows will be asked. Paul knows the Corinthians will respond to that message that has been driven home: the message of “Christ has died. Christ was buried. Christ has risen. And Christ will come again to raise us.” They will respond to that with the question, “How?” – “How are the dead raised? With what body do they come?”

In other words: “What will a resurrected body look like?”

Paul spend the next few verses answering that question. So today, friends, we’re also going to ask that question. “What will our resurrected body look like?” Our body meaning our community of faith, Sunnyside Presbyterian Church, following a metaphorical death, an ending. What will our resurrected body look like?

First, Paul nor the Bible in its entirety gives us a finite description of exactly what a resurrected body looks like. This we do not know. And this is true also for our body. We do not know for sure exactly what our body will look like in a few days or a few months or a few years. This is unknown, and this is okay. It is okay because although there are things unknown, we do know that resurrection follows death. This is certain. This is promised. An ending is not the end. Because when something ends, when death occurs; new life will be raised and a new body will be inherited. And this new body will hold certain traits that Paul writes about; this we also know.

The first trait of this new body is it is continuous. It will be of old but yet it will be new. A resurrected body is a new body, but it is not an entirely a new body or a new self. What once was, the old body, will still be there, and it will be recognizable. Think of Jesus. In his raising, his body did not remain in his tomb. No, it was raised and brought before his disciples and followers, and they were able to see him as Jesus; they recognized him in his new body through his old body.

This is true for us. We will not lose who we once were. We may become something new, but as we move forward, we will carry our identity, our history, and our memories with us. And we too will be recognized as Sunnyside, a thriving Presbyterian Church in South Bend, Indiana. We will continue to be as such. We will bring the old into the new.

The second trait of this new body is connected to the first, because as we bring the old into the new, the body will be transformed. Paul compares death to a seed that is about to be sown, a seed that will be raised. And a seed has many forms, whether it is a small flower, a shaft of wheat, or a great giant tree, yet they all still start as seeds. And when these seeds are buried in the earth, they transform and grow.

And so will we. We will transform, like a seed into a tree or a caterpillar into a butterfly. Our body, our congregation, will go through a transformation, and maybe we’ll experience a bump or two along the way that comes with change, we’ll call them growing pains, but we will hold onto the hope of what will come. We will spring into new life, and yes, it will be different, but there’s beauty and strength in transformation.

The next trait of the resurrected body is it will be suitable. It will be suited for the environment in which it lives. A body of dust is suited for life here on earth. That body will be hurt and damaged by the sins of the earth, with scars and illnesses, with aches and pains, but yet it survives. Until one day, that body doesn’t. And then a body of heaven is revealed. And that body will be suited for life in heaven, free from sin; free from damage.

Sunnyside, we will be suited for what comes our way. A wise friend and member of this congregation sent me a good reminder the other day: “God doesn’t call the qualified; God qualifies the called.” One of my favorite things about our community of faith, and I’ve said this before, the reason that we have thrived, is because we have paid attention to what God is doing around us and we have responded faithfully. We might be entering in new territory, and God might be doing new things, but we know that God has qualified us and will continue to do so, so that we can continue to respond faithfully.

Next, the resurrected body will be spiritual. Listen to the words that Paul uses to describe the resurrected body: imperishable, raised in glory and raised in power; a spiritual body. This body is from heaven, from the life-giving spirit that is Christ.

And this Spirit gives us life. In our moments of grief, we will experience weakness. We will experience sorrow. We will experience anger. We will experience exhaustion. And maybe we might lose hope. But the resurrected body doesn’t die. The spiritual body doesn’t die. Our body of Christ will be raised in glory and power. The kingdom of God here on earth, our church and the universal Church, is Spiritual, in which glimpses of heaven are seen. This is resurrection.

Last, the resurrected body is Christ-like. The most profound truth about the resurrected body is that it is the same body as Christ, the body from heaven. To be as Christ is, what more can be offered to us? Something as wondrous as this. Nothing! This is the greatest gift; that Christ will raise us into a body that comes from his risen body.

I don’t even need to connect this one from what Paul meant when he wrote this to the Corinthians to what we are experiencing now and what this means for us. We are the body of Christ, and Christ raises our body, which is his body, to be closer to him and more connected with him and more like him, more like Christ.

A resurrected body is continuous from old into new, transformed into something greater, suitable for its environment, spiritual in its life, and Christ-like in our body, which is Christ’s body. That is the good news in which we are reminded this day.

But to experience this good news, as Paul reminds us, we must first experience death.

And maybe right now we are experiencing that metaphorical death. Or maybe soon we will be. I honestly don’t know. But right now I do know we are hurting.

On Friday, as I drove home from the church, I felt so physically ill that once again I was choking on a dry lump in my throat with knots in my stomach. It was the end of a long week, I was stressed, I was experiencing grief, and because I was feeling sick, it brought me back to the visceral memory of my grandfather’s death and its upcoming anniversary, which made me miss him which then in turn, just made that stomach ache even worse.

My body aches when it reaches its limits, especially in moments of grief. But I think it’s aching for something; longing for some one. For Christ.

I’m reminded of Paul, of the man he once was, Saul, a man of death. As Saul walked down that Damascus road, I’m sure his body ached. And then a body appeared to him, but no earthly, mortal body. Saul saw the risen Lord in all his glory, and it blinded him. And then the resurrected body, through the manifestation of the risen Lord, was brought before Saul, now Paul.

So now if we experience death, metaphorical or actual, or if we experience the end of something, if our body aches, then I hold onto the promise that the risen Lord will manifest before us, and we will see his glory. I see glimpses of it now. I see the resurrected body; I’m looking at it now.

Thanks be to God. Amen. 

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Believing the Gospel

“Believing the Gospel” was preached at Sunnyside Presbyterian Church on Sunday, February 10, 2019. Inspirations for this sermon included Scriptures, commentaries, The Bible Project's video on 1 Corinthians, the sermon by The Rev. Michelle Witherspoon at my ordination service, and current events. You can listen to an audio recording of this sermon here.

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1 Corinthians 15:1-11

1 Now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, 2 through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you—unless you have come to believe in vain.

3 For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, 4 and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, 5 and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. 6 Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. 7 Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. 8 Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. 9 For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. 10 But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. 11 Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe.

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The church hurts when they start to believe what they think they know is a lie.

Sunnyside, I think right now, we know exactly what I’m talking about. The church hurts when they start to believe what they think they know is a lie.

But friends, I’m not talking about us. Or maybe I am coincidentally as it fits for us right here, right now. But I mean this in reference to the Christian church in Corinth. The church hurts when they start to believe what they think they know is a lie.

We are near the end of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians. Paul has been challenging the Corinthians; he has let them know major issues that the Corinthians are facing. Paul describes a problem, and then he responds to the problem with a solution found in the Gospel. He then shows the Corinthians that although they think they believe the goods news of Jesus Christ, they are failing to show that in their actions. In other words, they are not practicing what they preach. Paul writes they are dividing the church due to five major infractions.

This includes the Christian church in Corinth dividing themselves by who their favorite ministry leader is. It includes them being divided by sexual immortality because they believe they can just do whatever they want. It also includes dividing themselves on the issue of what food they can eat. And then they divide themselves on which gift in ministry is the best. After each issue of division, Paul pretty much writes “You’re kidding me, right?!” And rightly so. When did Jesus ever teach the message to divide rather than unite?

But the last infraction that divided the early Christian church in Corinth is found in Chapter 15, in our passage that was read today. It was also the greatest infraction.

It is on the issue of the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the future hope of Jesus’ followers. In the church, there were some people who viewed themselves as Christian but thought that the resurrection of Christ was ridiculous; that maybe the resurrection didn’t actually happen and that it’s okay that it didn’t happen because it doesn’t really matter to being a Christian. That the teachings of Jesus are honestly good enough and that if they follow at least those (and to be honest, they weren’t, but if they follow the teachings of Jesus), they will be given eternal life, not through the resurrection but through possibly their own good works.

This is what I meant when I said, “The church hurts when they start to believe what they think they know is a lie.”

The people of Corinth knew the Gospel message. They heard the stories of the risen Christ. It was preached and taught in their church. But somewhere along the way, maybe because something happened; maybe something traumatic, and then they all found themselves in a situation where they now considered what they once believed might not be a lie. They thought the resurrection of Christ might be a lie. And so they were divided and they did unjust things and they lost touch with what they believed. All because they started questioning what they believed to be true; what they knew to be true in their heart of hearts, and  yet they questioned if it might just all be a lie.

Can we fault them for that? In moments of tragedy, have we questioned what we once believed to be true might now be a lie? Something that the logical side of you still knows is still true but the irrational side somehow takes over and you start questioning it.

This speaks to me. And perhaps it speaks to you.

I, at times, can be an irrational person. Ask my friends; ask my family. It’s something that has gotten me into trouble before. I become irrational when I feel like I’m backed into a corner, when I’m incredibly anxious or desperate or hurting. I become irrational. I start to question the truth. There’s the logical side of me whispering, “C’mon, Taylor! You know this is the truth.”  But it’s in those moments, in moments of darkness, the irrational side is screaming, “But what if it’s all a lie?”

What if it’s all a lie..?

Can you relate to that?

I can become irrational in my way of thinking and I question things in times of tragedy. I don’t share this fact about me to be alarming. I share it because I think it’s normal. And I share it to be helpful.  It’s helpful to know that it’s normal because when it happens to you, you’ll know it’s normal. I can believe the truth to be a lie at times. You can believe the truth to be a lie at times. Even the people of Corinth believed the truth to be a lie. They thought the resurrection of Christ was a lie.

So what does this mean for us? Why is it important to know that in times of tragedy or divisiveness, we may question what we know to be true?

Because this is where God is at work.

When the Corinthians begin to doubt the resurrection, Paul reminds them the truth in the story.

They absolute truth is: Christ died for our sins. Christ was buried. Christ was raised on the third day.

Why would God raise the dead? Does the resurrection really matter? Isn’t Jesus’s teachings enough to follow?

Because without the resurrection, there is no good news. If God had not raised Jesus; If God had not claimed victory over death, then the Gospel would be a lie.

But we do know that God did raise Jesus from the dead. This is the same God that was active in the lives of the ancient Israelites. This is the same God this is active in our lives today. This God is faithful and trustworthy, and this God has done miraculous, powerful things throughout time.

We’ve experienced these powerful things for ourselves.

In times of transition, ministry may seem like it can be brink of dissolution; that it can all fall apart in a moment. As I’ve discerned my own eventual departure from Sunnyside, this is one of the things that I fear most. That every significant thing we have done together might be undone. Friends, I don’t like that thought…

And here we find ourselves in a moment of great transition. Perhaps this is where we are questioning the truth. Maybe all of us are considering the things that might feel like they might be undone.

At my own service of ordination, my pastor, The Rev. Michelle Witherspoon, told us this: “There are some things that cannot be undone. There are things in which we are the participants in but not the agents of. Baptism and ordination and marriage and funerals… the resurrection. We participate. We dip our hands in the water. We lay our hands over ministers and elders and deacons. We say the prayers at marriages and funerals. But it is God who makes it what it is. It is God who makes it effective. It is God who seals the act to make them holy and lasting and enduring.”

Think of your marriage to your partner. It is God who united you two in love.

Think of the baptism of your child. It is God who claimed them as God’s own.

Think of when you eat the bread and drink the wine at the Lord’s Table. It is God who fed you with provisions of grace.

Think of your ordination to service to the church. It is God who raised you into holy leadership.

Think of the funeral of someone you love, perhaps a parent or a sibling or a child. It is God who raised Christ from the dead so that eternal life may be given to all believers of every time and place.

There are some things in ministry that cannot be undone because what God has done cannot be undone. This is promised. This is the truth.

And how did Paul remind the Corinthians of the truth they already know? He reminded them that Jesus in his resurrection appeared to many of his followers; over 500 apostles and disciples, including Paul himself. This adds credibility to the truth because people shared the same story about the truth.  

And so this is what I invite you all to do. To share your stories of the truth with one another. If you start to question what you know to be true as a lie, if you are feeling dark or desperate, share a story with a friend and have them share a story with you. And then share more with others. We need to hear the testimonies of truth and love in the days and weeks ahead. It’s in these moments that we need to rely on our relationships of faith, the holy friendships that we have made in this place.

The last thing I want to mention from this passage is the role of Paul in all of it. Paul, when writing about Jesus appearing to many following the resurrection, includes himself on this list… but as someone who did not deserve it.

Paul believes he was as good as dead when Christ appeared to him. He was killing the church of God. He was doing everything in his power to end the Jesus movement. He was a murderer and a persecutor and completely unworthy of God’s grace. And God chose him anyway.

If God can do something good through Paul the murderer, surely that same God has the power to work wonders in the lives of others. If God can help remind the Corinthians of the truth of the resurrection, surely God can remind us of our own truths.

The church may hurt when they start to believe what they think they know is a lie. Transition is hard. We question the truth. We assume false lies. We begin to see ministry as difficult. This day is not the product of smooth sailing and easy living nor is it a gateway to smooth or easy. And that’s a pretty normal feeling right now. But friends, the resurrected Christ is ever-present reminding us of the truth, the life-changing revelation that we are all experiencing.

Believe the Good News. Christ died for our sins, was buried, and was raised on the third day. The revelation of Christ is sure and true because of an actively-working, faithful God. And God is still working in our midst. We are witnesses to this in the stories of truth we share with one another. And when reveal these stories of truth to each other, we see God revealed to us through one another. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Choosing Courage

“Choosing Courage” was preached at Grace-Trinity Community Church on Sunday, January 6, 2019. Inspirations for this sermon included Scripture, commentaries, identities of the Magi, Star Words, New Year resolutions, and injustice our country & world continues to experience. I shared this Word with the people of Grace-Trinity as a guest preacher.

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Matthew 2:1-12

1 In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, 2 asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” 3 When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; 4 and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. 5 They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

6 ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

    who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

7 Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. 8 Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” 9 When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. 10 When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11 On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 12 And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

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Today is Epiphany, a day for revelation and direction. We celebrate this day to commemorate the Magis’ visit to Jesus by following the star. When they arrived on the scene with Mary and Joseph and that child in their arms, the Magi make an epiphany of who is before them. With great joy, they recognize this child as King of the Jews. Today we celebrate that revelation; that moment of divine introduction.

What I love about most about this passage is the Magi.  I love their story, who they were and why we celebrate their revelation.

But first I want to clarify something. The New Revised Standard Version translation of Scripture is the translation I use most. It’s the translation we just heard for Matthew 2. I believe it’s accessible for people of all ages, accurate to the original text, and inclusive for most people in a modern world. However, the NRSV translation of Matthew chapter 2, uses an inaccurate translation of the Magi.

The Greek words used, Magoi and Magous, translates to Magi, an indefinite number of astrological-priests. While I’m sure they were wise, I don’t think this is their best descriptor because it’s not precise enough about their identity in the story. And although I love the hymn we will sing in later in this service, the Magi were also not kings nor any high political leaders. These identities miss the mark of the identity of the Magi, so I, and maybe you too, need to know the Magi as Magi, as magicians, as sorcerers, as astronomers. This is who they were.

The Magi were priests who studied the stars, but not for the sake of science, but for the sake of prophecy. The Magi studied the stars to interpret the present and to forecast the future. They were ancient horoscope writers. And although actual Kings, such as Herod, occasionally utilized their services—their predictions of what is and what is to come—they weren’t exactly seen in the highest regard, especially in the eyes of a Jewish audience, in which the Gospel of Matthew was written.

But this isn’t too surprising; that they wouldn’t be seen in the highest regard. Jesus, who would one day spend most of his ministry hanging out with tax collectors and prostitutes, was known to spend his time with what was considered the wrong sort of people. And it starts here, at his young age, God choosing to fill important, essential role with the wrong sort of people. It was to the Magi, through a moment of great joy that Christ was revealed as the Son of God and as God incarnate, the Word made flesh. And then through this revelation, the identity of Christ is not revealed only to the Magi, but to all for the first time; the Jews and the Gentiles. Which is why we still celebrate Epiphany today.

But what I love most about the Magi, even more than who they are and why we celebrate their revelation— what I love most about the Magi is what they are doing in the passage. Or rather, what I love, is what God is doing, and how the Magi are responding…  

See, the reason it’s important to note that the Magi were astronomers and magicians is because they discovered Jesus for the first time by doing what they do. It was God who first came to them. They were practicing magic and studying the stars. Jesus was made known to them when his star rose into the sky, a star that led the Magi to him, a star that was created and guided by God.

Now for someone like me, someone who is directionally challenged at times, following this star seems like the miracle. You know, for someone like me, it usually takes me a moment even to figure out where north is. *points north* Right? Don’t worry. I looked it up on my phone before the service. So yes, for someone like me, who needs a phone to figure out where north is, noticing a special star seems like a miracle. But as I said, this is what the Magi did. They could read the stars. By doing what they do—by studying the stars, God made the Christ-child known to them. And when God did this, the Magi could now choose how they would respond. They could now continue to study the stars near their homes or they could follow that rising star to Jesus. The miracle here is they chose to leave what they were doing to follow that star.

Of course, it was also King Herod, after the Magi respond to the rising star, who sends them to Bethlehem, saying that when they find the child, they must return to him with the child’s location. But then it happens again, when the star stops overhead of Christ, after they see the child and are overwhelmed with joy, after they present Jesus with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh; God comes to the Magi again. This time, through a dream, the Magi are warned not to return to the king that sent them. Once again, they had options of how they could respond; they could return to the king that had sent them, probably with the guarantee of rewards and riches, or they could return to their homes by another road. The miracle here is the Magi chose to disobey the king and instead they returned to their homes.

So what I love most about is this story is God reveals Godself to the Magi; twice, once in the rising of a star and once in a dream; and both times the Magi respond with courage to do the right thing.

And I think that each time the Magi chose courage, they did so despite their fear; their fear of leaving their homes and their fear of disobeying the king. Despite their fear, they chose courage.

We can relate to that. It’s always a beautiful thing for Epiphany to occur about the start of the New Year. Perhaps for some it’s a time where we turn our own revelations into resolutions for this upcoming year. To do this, many take the New Year as a time to reflect on all that occurred over the past year. One of my reflections that I had, not only as clergy but as an active church-goer, was the fear that I carried with me nearly every single Sunday. Fear with what happened the in the week prior, fear of what might happen next, even the fear of what to say to those who were hurting. Perhaps you at one point over this past year have carried this fear as well. Perhaps you carry it now.

The last several years have been filled with social justice movements across our country and across the world. They came from all sides of the political spectrum. 2018 was no different. And although through acts of great courage, stories of trauma were lifted and made known publically, as we enter into 2019, that fear is still there. Now we, like the Magi, are given a choice: give into the fear or choose courage?

My hope and prayer for all of us, as individuals and as the church, is that we choose courage.

So how do we do this?

There’s a pretty well-known Epiphany discipline that many churches practice. It’s called “Star Words.” During some part of the worship service, each person is a given a star with a single word written on it. They then use this word to navigate the new year, to serve as a tool for discernment and prayer, to guide them closer to Christ.  

Now as a guest here at Grace-Trinity, I discerned that this might not be the most practical discipline to do as part of this service. Partially because I don’t think it’s the place of a guest preacher to come into a church and tell the people what to do while their pastor is away, but also because I believe as members of the Body of Jesus Christ and as children of God living in a time such as this, the star word many of us need is the same word: courage.

May that guide us in the days and weeks ahead.

To be courageous is to be Christ-like. And Christ is courageous, he displayed in in two significant ways.

First, Christ is pastoral. As said earlier, Jesus was often known to surround himself with “sinners” – the wrong sort of people. The Magi, the tax collectors, the prostitutes; those are the people he called to him. And with them and with others, he offers forgiveness and extends mercy. He sought out a ministry serving people considered to be the least of these; the poor, the hungry, the sick and the blind. He would look at them and see them for what they were: children of God. The Magi displayed this same pastoral courage when they sought out the Christ-child to be overwhelmed with joy at his presence. And we’re called to do the same. We’re all called to display pastoral courage. We are called to go out and spread the love of Christ with everyone we encounter. There is enough grace through Christ for everyone, especially for those who we think there might not be enough grace. It is courageous to be pastoral.

But second, Christ, with his courage, is also prophetic. He went forth with loud cries of apocalyptic messages. He demanded justice for all. With wisdom and passion, Jesus would go into temples and other public places and call out leaders and teachers and rulers for their wrong-doings. He spoke of the truth and many were unhappy with this truth. So unhappy that they persecuted him and sent him to his death on the cross. He defied unjust power; and so did the Magi; they were prophetic in their courage when they defied the king and went their own way. Prophetic courage is to free the oppressed; to speak truth to power, and to give forth honest integrity.

The Magi modeled themselves after the same Christ-child they went to visit. They were Christ-like in their courage, both pastoral and prophetic, both loving and just. And I trust that is how God will lead me and how God will lead you—lead all of us—into 2019. That’s our revelation; this is our Epiphany.

God will reveal Godself to us. Perhaps as a star or in a dream, perhaps through movements or stories made known, or perhaps here in this church or as we go out in the community, God is present and God is doing something. God is revealing Godself. And you are there in the midst of it, and God is giving you the opportunity to do something. Consider the areas of darkness in your own life or in the lives of others, the areas of fear. And then look for that revelation of Christ. A star of courage arises; go forth, my friends, and follow. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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© Jan Richardson