Boxed In

          “Boxed In” was preached at Princeton Theological Seminary on Tuesday, April 5, 2016 as the meditation in my Senior Chapel Service. Inspirations and themes found in this short message include Scripture, commentaries, self-identity, perceived societal roles, and personal experiences.

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Jeremiah 1:4-10

⁴Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, ⁵“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” ⁶Then I said, “Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.” ⁷But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a boy’; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you, ⁸Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.” ⁹Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me, “Now I have put my words in your mouth. ¹⁰See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.”

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When members of the LGBTQ community come out, we do so to free ourselves from a box of lies in which we feel trapped. We often spend our youth muting ourselves, staying down and hiding away. Our lives seem to be covered in a haze that comes like a thick and terrible fog choking the dreams and aspirations we had set for ourselves until these dreams and aspirations wither and die. This box becomes even smaller as we grow older, and LGBTQ individuals may feel like they have no room to grow or to flourish. As we force ourselves to stay hidden, we realize we cannot live like this anymore. In moments that feel like taking the first breath of air after years of drowning, we come out to our family and our friends, and we reveal an intimate and vulnerable part of ourselves. It is also in these moments that many of us decide to never be forced into a box like that again.

However, more often than not, that would be the exact next thing to happen. When LGBTQ members free themselves from the box they forced themselves into, society would soon force them into a new box. It would be a new box of stereotypes, discrimination, and even hate. Society would use this box as the box to define them. Society would ignore everything else that made members of LGBTQ community as unique and special individuals, but use this as their sole source of judgment for the community as a whole. If you don’t possibly think this could be true, remember there are still states in our country where members of the LGBTQ community can be refused employment for exactly that. And on an even larger scale, remember there are still countries in the world where being queer is a crime or even a death sentence. Once again, we are trapped in a box. Once again, we feel like we are drowning.

The unfortunate truth is we all know this feeling because we have all been trapped in a box of our own. Whether you are a part of the LGBTQ community or not, at one point or another, society has forced you into a box that they would use to define you. For example… If you are a man, you must do this and if you are a woman, you must do that. If you are neither, good luck finding your place in the world. If you are black or Hispanic or Asian or white, you must have defining characteristics that makes you just like everyone else who shares in your skin color. Society has at one point let you know that you are defined by your disability, or society has stopped you from doing something because they have believed you to be too young or too old. Whatever our religious affiliation, we have been given the same set of stereotypes that may or may not describe us at all. We have been forced into a box. We have been trapped by this box. We have been wrongly defined by this box. The moment any of us were set apart for greatness, the world did what it could to limit our potential and make us feel trapped once again.

Jeremiah too once felt trapped in a box that he believed defined him. Jeremiah was a descendent from a line of priests; he was the original Pastor’s Kid. So when the Lord came to Jeremiah and called him into service, you think Jeremiah would respond with eager willingness and authority. But that is not what happened. Jeremiah instead responds with hesitation and worry; there’s a type of concern in his voice. When God calls Jeremiah into service, Jeremiah lists the reasons of why he is not the one for the job. One, he doesn’t know how to speak, and two, he’s only a boy. This was his box. Jeremiah believed no one would listen to a boy who didn’t know how to speak especially when the messages he was called to bring to the people revolved around themes of destruction and devastation. Before Jeremiah would even start his lifetime of ministry, he tried to limit his own potential and stay hidden in that tiny box. But God wouldn’t have any of it. God never seems to have any of it. And we know if you’re called to ministry, then you’re called to ministry. That’s the way it will be. God assured Jeremiah that even before he was born, when he was still in the first physical box that every human experiences – the womb – God knew Jeremiah and God would set Jeremiah apart. He would be consecrated to serve, and he would be set free from all and every human-made box that he believed would define him. It did not matter that he could not speak or that he was only a boy; he was one of God’s and God would use him.

We too can be freed from the boxes that could define us. We too can refuse to let anything limit our potential as we listen to God’s calling in our own lives. Everything that could bring us down, we can instead let God build us up. We are known. We are set apart. We are consecrated. We are made free.

When we are freed from the boxes that once negatively defined us in captivity, maybe our calling is now to look around us at the people we are called to serve. Let us go out and find who else might still be trapped by their own boxes as they await for their release. Let us remember how God has opened our boxes so that we may help others open theirs. Let us call to mind the mighty acts God has performed in our lives so that we may dare try these mighty acts ourselves. Let us rejoice in the fact that no matter what boxes that world may force us into and try to define us by, God has ultimately freed us so that we might take our Christian courage and help free others.

We are not defined by the boxes we have been forced into by society or by ourselves. While we were once in the womb, God has set us apart as one of God’s own. In Christ, we are a new creation. There is no longer Jew or Greek. There is no longer slave or free. There is no longer male or female. We are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, one of God’s own people. We may be gay or straight, black or white, male or female, young or old – or anywhere far and in between – embrace that! – but we cannot let any of it limit our potential of what we can do for God and for others. These are not boxes to trap us inside; rather, these are gifts to be opened and shared and celebrated. The greatest gift of all lies at the very core of our identity: we are all children of God fearfully and wonderfully made, unique and special created in God’s image. That is not a limit. That is a gift of infinite possibility. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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When I Left Our Savior to Die

          “When I Left Our Savior to Die” was given on Good Friday, March 25, 2016 at Lawrence Road Presbyterian Church. Inspirations for this short reflection included Scripture, beginnings & endings, creative storytelling, and one of Jesus’ last words upon the cross: “It is finished.”

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John 19:30

³⁰ When Jesus had received the wine, he said, “It is finished.” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

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I was there. Long, long ago I found myself in the characters of the past. I was there. I was there with Jesus when he walked the roads, and I was there with Jesus when taught his teachings. I was a follower of his ways and a witness to his miracles. I was there with Jesus. But at one point – and I’m not sure when – I left our Savior to die.

Maybe it was when I saw him enter into Jerusalem. You should have seen it. He was a king! I have never seen such glory and honor represented in the flesh as I did that day. All I wanted was to be in his presence; all I wanted was for his face to look upon mine. I spread my cloak on the road. Together with all his followers, we made a path of fabric and richness. Our king deserved nothing less! Our voices joined together as one triumphant cry, “Hosanna! Hosanna! Lord, save us!” But then our king passed by and our voices faltered and failed. Was it then that I left our Savior to die?

 Perhaps it was when I was with him in the garden. I heard his cries to his Father, but I chose to ignore his voice. Instead, I fell asleep while my teacher prayed. I couldn’t stay awake. I was carrying this weight of guilt, and I was tired, oh so tired. I knew my teacher carried a weight much greater than mine, but I just wasn’t as strong. I couldn’t be as strong… You see, I had wronged my teacher. I doubted him with Thomas, I betrayed him with Judas, and I denied him with Peter. I am sorry, my teacher, I just couldn’t stay awake. Was it then that I left our Savior to die?

It could have been the time when I brought him to the Roman officials. I saw him brought before the high priest and the governor, and I saw him through the eyes of Caiaphas and through the eyes of Pilate. I have never been more afraid; I have never been filled with such wrath. That day my fear and frenzy took control. I wanted Jesus to suffer; I wanted Jesus to die! My voice might have been the loudest as we cried, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” I cheered when they took him away. I rejoiced when they nailed him to the cross. I gave thanks when they lifted him high into the air. My God, my God; I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I will regret those moments for the rest of my life. Was it then that I left our Savior to die?

It must have been when Jesus was on the cross. His sign read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” I believed those words, but I still sentenced him to die. Tears fell down my face as I cried with the men, women, and children – the cries of “Hosanna!” and “Crucify him!” still echoing in my head. The man I loved was dying. My heart was filled with both compassion and pain. A void was being ripped open. I saw Jesus starve upon that cross; I could see his thirst. I gave him one last drink of wine. His last taste of this earth would be the sour, rotten fruit of the vine as it trickled down his throat. Was it then that I left our Savior to die?

But then Jesus said one last thing upon that cross. Was it a whisper or was it a shout? I could hear his voice around me; I could hear his voice within me. It was the concluding cry of victory. I was there with Jesus when said his final words, “It is finished.” In that moment, I knew it to be true. I knew Jesus was my Savior. When I left our Savior to die, he would come back to me with new and eternal life.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

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Arriving

“Arriving” was preached at Princeton Theological Seminary on March 15, 2016 as part of my “When Sundays Come Quicker Than Sermons” course. Inspirations for this meditation included Scripture, Lukan literary themes, liturgical seasons, and a biblical reflection by Kathryn Matthews.

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Luke 19:28-40

²⁸After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. ²⁹When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, ³⁰saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. ³¹If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” ³²So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. ³³As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” ³⁴They said, “The Lord needs it.” ³⁵Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. ³⁶As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. ³⁷As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, ³⁸saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” ³⁹Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” ⁴⁰He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

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Chapter 19, verses 39 and 40 are the last we hear from the Pharisees found in the Gospel of Luke. During Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the Pharisees command a final phrase of fear: “Teacher, order your disciples to stop” to which Jesus replies, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” And then the Pharisees are gone. For the rest of the Gospel according to Luke, they are gone! No more commands. No more lectures. No more of their fears and no more of their worries. They’re not even mentioned again or even alluded to… they are gone. Now I am sure they were around there somewhere, but there is not another literal reference to them in the Gospel of Luke after this. The Pharisees are gone as if they just disappeared forever. From here on out, they are absent in Jesus’ story. I must admit it is almost a trivial way for them to go out. They command something, and then they are denied. They are denied, and then they are gone. Jesus’ triumphal arrival into Jerusalem also includes the departure of the Pharisees.

This is something we often do not consider. The arrival of something usually includes the departure of something else. For example, the arrival of spring means the departure of winter. Look at this past week. The weather was in the seventies! It was bright and sunny and warm, and I am sure many of us did whatever we could to spend as much of each day outside. On my way to work one day, I even saw two young boys hosting a lemonade stand between the university and seminary campuses! If that’s not a sure sign of spring, then I’m not sure what is! Sure, we might have more days of winters. We might have other days of the weather being cold or gloomy or dark. We might even have another day of snow, but this past week was a sign that spring is arriving. Spring is arriving and winter is departing. Even if some of us like winter, we must think about it like this. Winter must leave so that spring may come.

Palm Sunday is another sign of something arriving and something else departing. Like Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, we are entering into Holy Week. This week is a sure sign of transition from Lent into Easter especially as we experience an entire spectrum of emotion while we worship during Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. In one week, we do what we can to lament, remember, and celebrate the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. One week! We know it is a lot to handle, but we do it anyway. We do it every year. We enter into Holy Week, and we willingly experience the spectrum of emotion because we see this as the sign we need. Lent will soon be departing and Easter will soon be arriving. We must be willing to leave Lent in order to enter into Easter.

With the departure of Lent and the arrival of Easter, we also move into a time of transition between the struggle and the celebration. Lent is our season of mourning. During Lenten worship, we come and we openly lament and we give weight to our struggles. It’s a time to bring our fears and our worries and our anger and our sadness, and we are encouraged to bring them with us to the table each and every week. We bring them in hopes that Christ will take them away, but sure enough, the next week we are afraid and worried and angry and sad once again. We wonder how long can we keep this up. How long can we feel like this before we don’t feel at all? But then one day, instead of not feeling, we actually feel okay. And then one day we feel good. And then one day we feel great. And then one day we will feel assured and affirmed and moved and loved. There will be days when our fears and our worries and our anger and our sadness come back, but we know in those days that we have seen the sure sign that something else is coming. Then, our voices will join in with the multitude of disciples and the stones on the ground! Our voices will join in with all creation! In joyful praise, we shall declare, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” The time of struggle will depart, and the time for celebration will arrive. We will celebrate what God has done! We will celebrate what God will do! We will celebrate that Christ has risen, Christ has risen indeed!

This is the sure sign that something is arriving! What once ended with death is now promised in new life. Death has departed, and it does not hold any power in its final day. It cannot stop what has been promised. The Resurrection is coming. New life has arrived. It came as a king riding a colt. It came as a lamb upon the cross. It came as a dove rising into the heavens. We will see its glory and we will experience its peace. This is promised. This is guaranteed. Death may be commanded, but death will be denied. The resurrection found in Christ is arriving.

As I said, for something to arrive, something else usually has to depart. This is okay. We are okay. Let us experience the departure of this season so that we may expect the arrival of the next. Sometimes we must leave something behind for something else to come. Think about what is departing. Winter. Lent. Our struggles. Death. Now think about what is arriving. Spring. Easter. The celebration. New life. It cannot be stopped. It will not be silenced. The resurrection will arrive. Thanks be to God.

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Holy God – the Lord of all Lords. We come to you today asking for you to give us the courage to depart the emotions and debilitating weights that bring us down. In doing so, you allow us to give you the space for you to arrive. Be with us during these times of transition. You have promised us the resurrection, and we give thanks, as we know this promise will be fulfilled. Glory and praise to you, O God, for it is in your name we pray. Amen.

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Provisions and Promises

“Provisions and Promises” was preached on Tuesday, March 1, 2016 at Princeton Theological Seminary as part of my “When Sundays Come Quicker Than Sermons” course. Inspirations for this short sermon included scripture, commentaries, my current congregational context, and “The Awakening” by J. Seward Johnson, Jr.

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Joshua 5:9-12

9 The Lord said to Joshua, “Today I have rolled away from you the disgrace of Egypt.” And so that place is called Gilgal to this day.

10 While the Israelites were camped in Gilgal they kept the Passover in the evening on the fourteenth day of the month in the plains of Jericho. 11 On the day after the Passover, on that very day, they ate the produce of the land, unleavened cakes and parched grain. 12 The manna ceased on the day they ate the produce of the land, and the Israelites no longer had manna; they ate the crops of the land of Canaan that year.

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This past weekend I spent my Saturday exploring the outdoor art exhibit “Grounds for Sculpture” out in Hamilton, New Jersey. For those of you who have never been to or heard of “Grounds for Sculpture,” it is an outdoor sculpture park covering 42-acres of land. As you walk through the park, you will see various sculptures both as abstract and concrete pieces of art. For example, you will see a large glass box filled with human-sized baby dolls in the middle of a small forest and you will also see a giant-sized farmer dancing with his wife as soon as you enter through the gates.

One particular piece really had me contemplating its meaning. It was a statue of a giant man separated into five distinct pieces protruding from the ground. The five pieces are the tip of his right foot stretched upward; his left thigh, knee, and shin bent at an angle; his right arm reaching for the sky; his left hand barely exposed but grasping at something; and last, his face detailed with an open mouth and opened eyes as if he was in great pain. My first thought was this man – this giant – was taking his last breath lying on his back before the earth swallowed him forever, but then I saw the title of the piece. It was called, “The Awakening,” and after I did a little research, I realized the opposite of what I had initially thought was actually true. The man was not sinking; he was rising. This was not the man’s last breath; it was his first. He was desperately clawing his way to the surface. He was fighting to break away from the earth that once trapped him beneath.  He was free! He was finally free!

That is how the Israelites must have felt in our passage today. For forty years – an entire generation’s worth – the Israelites desperately fought their way through the wilderness. I imagine their struggle; I imagine their pain. I imagine how difficult the entire journey must have been for them. Their journey was definitely not without fault. There was whining and complaining. There were golden calves and other idols. There was war, disease, and death. And there was an unsatisfiable thirst and hunger manifested from the people’s distance from God. Their journey was rough. Their journey was painstakingly rough, but the Israelites had arrived. They had finally arrived. With the crossing of the Jordan River, the Israelites were now in the Promised Land. Sure, it was just barely inside of the Promised Land, but like the sculpture of the giant, this was their first breath of the promised air. They are out of the desert. They are out of the wilderness. They are now free in the Promised Land. 

In praise and thanksgiving, they then celebrated the Passover marking their arrival into the Promised Land. It was their celebration of being freed from their captivity in Egypt. And after the Passover, the manna that had rained from the heavens ceased. They were now surrounded by the produce of the land, and it was this food that would now provide them their nourishment. 

Promise after promise was fulfilled. The Israelites had made it through the wilderness. They had arrived into the Promised Land. They celebrated the Passover as a sign of their liberation from Egypt. And the manna ceased as the Israelites ate the produce of the land. Promise after promise, God had provided.

This is the message we need to remember in the season of Lent. As we experience of our own struggles or times of difficulty, we must remember God’s provision and God’s promises. This is especially relevant as each of us have experienced a season of death and darkness. Some of us are going through this season right now. These past few months have been difficult on us – painstakingly difficult. There seems to be this black cloud hanging over of us, and we are struggling to find even a glimpse of hope. Here we are, starving in the wilderness, struggling for that first breath of promise! We are crying out to God waiting for a sign to show – a sign of grace or reconciliation or love – we are crying out for a sign of provision!

But here is what we know – here is what we can take away from this passage – if God fulfilled the promises to the Israelites with abundant provision, then we can be certain God will fulfill the promises made to us. It took forty years – forty years! – as the Israelites wandered through the wilderness, but God still fulfilled God’s promises. A gift has been given to us: we don’t have to wait those forty years. We don’t even have to wait at all. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, a covenant of grace was established with all of us: a covenant that is constantly renewed and restored with each of us on an individual basis with the passing of every second of time. The provision of God’s grace is so bright that even in our darkest times, the light will win. We can see the hope God has promised to us. This Lenten season I challenge you to find the hope around you. Look for God’s provision; rejoice in God’s promises!

This journey will be difficult, but we are fighters. We will make it through the wilderness and arrive in the Promised Land. We. Will. Survive. God’s provision is greater than what we have asked for; God’s fulfillment of promises is greater than what we have expected. That first breath of hope will be our awakening, and the pain we have endured will be nothing in comparison to the grace extended to us through Christ. We are not sinking; we are rising! Thanks be to God. Amen.

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            God of patient love and grace. Here we are as your people, wandering through our own wilderness of darkness. We ask that you shine your grace upon us as a light to guide our paths. Let us come to you, O God, as you have promised divine provision in your presence. We seek you in our hearts and in our minds and in our souls. All glory and honor belong to you. In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.

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