What's in a promise? Or, why you'll never hear God say, "Let's make a deal" (sermon from Baden Powell Sunday worship, Feb 17, 2019)

Reading: Psalm 116 (adapt. from tr. by Leslie Brandt, Psalms/Now, 1973)

The Book of Psalms is a book of extremely honest prayers and songs.  When we read the Psalms we don’t have to pretend that life is always happy, or that the world is always fair.  All that the Psalms ask of us, really, is that we be honest and that we do our best to bring every aspect of our life to God, to see what God’s good will for us might be. 

Psalm 116

I know that God is here.

I know this because when I was alone and afraid,

     feeling weak and helpless,

God looked upon me with love

     and responded to my cry for help.

There was a time when I didn’t care!

     I was not aware of any real need for God.

But then I hit bottom.

     I lost what I counted on.

     Death itself reached out to take me in.

     There was no one else to turn to.

I cried out to God in my desperation.

I could almost feel God’s invisible hand

     encircle me and draw me in.

Now I am convinced.

God is here, and I will trust God forever.

I will no longer wait for pain or suffering

      to drive me to God.

I will walk in God’s pathways for my life.

      I will remember all my promises made to God

          and in God’s presence,

      and I will follow through on them.

I can never repay God for God’s ever-present love.

I can only dedicate my life to praising God

     and to serving God wherever I may be.

I am God’s servant;

     I am God’s beloved child.
     I shall love God forever.
I will proclaim to all the world: 
     “God is in our midst.”

What I hear in this Psalm is two things.  

One, that no matter what, even in the worst of times, God is here and God is near, ready to help even before I open myself to God and ask for help.  I can trust God forever, even before I choose to trust or act in trust, because this is what God has promised.  This is the kind of God, God has promised to be no matter what.

Two, that the psalmist (and therefore I, when I read this with an open heart) will do the same.  Will be the same as God -- no matter what, being and doing what I have promised to be and to do.

In just a few minutes we will be entering into perhaps the most important part of our worship today -- the renewing of our promises as Guiders, as Scouters, and as members of this church.  We do this every year, and it's an important part -- maybe the most important part of our annual Baden Powell Sunday worship.

With that in mind, today I want us to think about two kinds of promises.  

One is a handshake kind of promise.  The kind of promise you make with someone by "shaking on it."  What are some examples?  Some of the kinds of promises we make and seal with a handshake?

Maybe you and a good friend agree to always be friends and have one another's back, and then you shake on it.  Maybe you get a job: you agree to do the work, the other person agrees to pay you, and you shake in it.  Maybe you're buying something: you agree to pay a certain amount of money, the other person agrees to show up with what you are paying for, and you shake on it.

And that's a good way of doing things.  Handshake deals often feel far better, and can feel more binding than a mere paper contract.  "My handshake is my word" is a tried and true foundation of good business and good relations.

But even a handshake promise -- a handshake deal, is conditional.  It does depend on the other person (and you) being good to their word and honest to their handshake.  And if one or the other of you breaks the deal, doesn't follow through on the promise, all bets are off.  The deal is broken.  If one breaks their promise, the other is not bound to theirs.

That's one kind of promise -- a handshake promise that (kind of) seals a deal.

There's another kind of promise, though, that involves doing something different with your hand, than shaking someone else's hand.  Can you think what it is?  What other action you might perform with your hand when making a promise?

How about raising your hand?  Holding it up in the air, kind of reaching for God and kind of holding yourself up open before other people, the way you do when swearing -- that is, when promising in court to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?  

That's also a promise, but a different kind of promise.  Not really a deal, because you're not making this as a reciprocal promise with any other person.  It's more a vow or an oath, which is a promise in front of people in general and in front of God as well to be a certain kind of person, to act in a certain kind of way no matter what.

It can also be made -- have you seen this? -- by holding your hand over your heart, which is a way really of making the promise with yourself, and saying you are promising that from your heart and with all your heart you will be this kind of person, who will act this kind of way no matter what may come, what others may do, or even what others might fail to do.

That's an oath.  A vow.  Not at all just a deal.  And the Scouting and Guiding Promises are like that -- like an oath, like a vow.  A promise you make based on what you know to be good, to be that kind of person.  That that kind of good person is what you want to be, and will be no matter what.

I want to read you a little bit of Lord Baden-Powell's final letter to the members of the Scouting movement:

I have had a most happy life and I want each of you to have a happy life too.  I believe that God puts us in this jolly world to be happy and enjoy life.  [For Baden-Powell, belief in God was assumed, and all the world was seen as a gift from the overflowing generosity of God that does not stop, no matter what.]  Happiness does not come from being rich, nor merely being successful in your career, nor by self-indulgence.  One step towards happiness is to make yourself healthy and strong while you are a boy [i.e. learn as early as you can to be the kind of person you really want to be], so that you can be useful and so you can enjoy life when you are a man.  Nature study will show you how full of beautiful and wonderful things God has made the world [i.e. God is generous to make the world good and humanity happy no matter what -- just because that's how God is and promises to be] ... And the real way to get happiness is by giving happiness to other people [i.e. to do as God does, to be as God is by just being a good and generous character, regardless of what the other is like or what the other does, but because you simply have promised to be this way].  Try and leave this world a little better than you found it and when your turn comes to die, you can die happy in feeling that you have not wasted your time but have done your best.  "Be prepared" in this way to live happy and to die happy -- stick to your Scout Promise always -- even after you have ceased to be a boy -- and God help you to do it.

In other words, based on what you know God has given and the kind of God that God has proven to be, on how good life is and is meant to be for all, and on how good it is to share the happiness and good of life with others, promise -- make an oath with God and yourself, to be the kind of person who does that.  Make an oath and a vow with God and yourself to live that kind of life yourself.

And one last thought.  We are dealing with God here, with making a promise before God,if not also to God, to be at least a little bit like God in the way we live our life.  And the point is that God doesn't make deals.  God is not the kind of God who makes the deal kind of promises.

I know sometimes we think God does.  When I was younger and in high school -- even university, sometimes before a big test that I thought was going to be hard and that I felt I hadn't studied enough for, sometimes I would pray, "Dear God, if you help me -- if you let me get a good mark on this test, just this once, I promise I will study harder and keep my work up-to-date better next time."

Does that sound familiar?  Or maybe you've done something wrong, and don't really want to get caught and face the consequences, so you pray, "Dear God, oh God, if you just get me through this, help them maybe not find out, help them be lenient and forgiving, I'll do better, I won't mess up, I won't do that thing again.  I really have learned my lesson, God.  I really have.  Believe me."

Or sometimes we think it goes the other way too.  We think if we do the right thing, God will somehow reward us -- that we can make a deal with God to help us not be sick, to help us be successful, to make our life easy.  Have you ever heard preachers or anyone else say, "If you pray, if you attend church regularly, if you tithe and give ten percent to the Lord's work, if you follow all the rules and stand up for God, God will bless you, God will save your loved one from cancer, God will make you rich and successful, God will make you happy and keep you from sorrow and despair"?  Or maybe it's even the ultimate deal we are told we can make with God, or that God makes with us: "if you're good, if you live a good life, God will let you into heaven."

But God is not that kind of God.  God does not make little handshake deals with special or particular people.  God does not make secret little deals on the side with special persons apart from what's on offer for everyone else.

Rather God is the kind of God who swears oath kind of promises, who commits to vow kinds of promises to be a particular kind of God, and to do particular godly kinds of things no matter what, no matter who, no matter when or where or why.  

God promises, as the psalmist came to know and as we come to know, to be near.  To hear us when we cry even before we cry.  To love us even before we know we can be loved.  And to help us even before we ask for help.  And not always in the way we may want to be helped, but always in a way that will lead us forward, help us to grow and to heal in the way we need to, and walk in such a way that we and God can walk together more closely and consciously.  "I am that kind of God," God says, "and will be that kind of God no matter what, because I promise.  You can believe me."

And God calls us to do and to be the same -- to let ourselves know what is really good, a good way of being, and then promise -- really make a commitment with ourselves to be that kind of person doing those kinds of things no matter what. 

Joy is not just a woman's name (sermon from Feb 10, 2019)

Reading:  Psalm 100 and Philippians 4:4-9 

A generation or two ago, the Coca-Cola company said they would like to teach the world to sing.  And for a while we did enjoy singing their song.  Thousands of years before that, the people of Israel said much the same thing.  Psalm 100 is an invitation to all the world to join them in joyful worship of God, because they know how good it is to do that, and to bring all aspects and experiences of our life to God in prayer.  If only all the world would learn to be joyfully thankful to God, what might this world be like?

The second reading is from Paul’s letter to the Christian community in Philippi.  Things are not all rosy.  Paul is in jail and the Philippian church is suffering a few upsets.  But in the end, Paul’s advice is simple:  “Rejoice.  Rejoice in the Lord.”

Praise the Lord! the Psalmist says.  It’s not something we say here a lot.  At least not all together.  And not out loud in worship. 

Rejoice! Paul says.  Choose joy as your way of being.  Let joy flow freely from your deepest heart.  That’s not my usual way of being.  When someone asks me how I’m doing, these days I usually say, “Pretty well.”  It’s an improvement over what I used to say: “Not bad!”  But people have commented it’s still a whole lot more guarded and hesitant than “Great! Wonderful!  Awesome!” or what Muriel Coker used to say in all honest humility and with the most grateful of smiles, “Just perfect!”

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I will say rejoice!”  Paul advises the Christians in Philippi. 

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth,” the psalmist tells us, suggesting that we of all people should be able to teach the world to sing – and not about Coca Cola, but about God and God’s goodness, the really real thing that makes life and earth and all we know, good.

And we know about joy.  In our own way, we feel it and share it here.  If we didn’t, and if it wasn’t important to us, the Council and the others who worked in stages over the past year to discern our new mission statement, would not have named Joy as one of our four Core Values – one of four things that really describe who we are, what’s most important to us in our life together, and what helps us to know if something fits and is right for us, or not.

Joy.

When the young people sing in worship, they are the Joy Choir.  And they really are.  Joy is on their faces, in their voices.  It’s in the message of their songs, and in their confident presence.  And it’s in our hearts – joy is nurtured and maybe even resurrected within us, when we see and hear them.

And the senior choir has the same effect.  The choir has a good time together; there is joy in their gathering.  There is joy in their anthems as well, that they communicate to us.  Like last week’s offering of “Sing to the North” that left all of us just that little more inspired and uplifted that we needed and longed to be.  It happens every time they sing, “Shine, Jesus, Shine.”  And I’m sure you all have other favourites that just really touch your heart and give you joy that you just don’t get anywhere else.

A few weeks ago someone came to worship just all out of sorts.  It had not been a good morning.  One thing after another had gone wrong.  Arguments, hurt feelings and strained relationships seemed to be the order of the day.  I asked what might make it better – what might help to be able to settle in worship and know God’s goodness.  And the answer was immediate and simple: “Music.”  And the music did not disappoint. 

Music apparently speaks to the brain in particularly wonderful and healing ways.  Whether it’s sung, played or just listened to, music bypasses at least two parts of our brain that often give us so much trouble.  It bypasses the rational part of our brain that deals with logic and analysis and makes us overly anxious the past and the future.  It also doesn’t activate the threat-awareness part of our brain that triggers fear, panic and fight-or-flight –  before even knowing if the threat is real or not. 

Music instead goes straight to the emotion centre and helps release a little dopamine into the system.  It makes us feel good.  It triggers positive emotions and good memories.  It helps us pay attention to just the present moment.  It activates learning and insight.  It helps us be open to what really is at the heart of all that is – to God, to our own truest self, to the spirit of God alive in others as well.

And it’s not just music that helps us feel this way, and experience this kind of peacefully energizing joy in our life together as church.

Do you remember how it felt the Sunday we welcomed the Assad family in a worship service here?  How good – how joyful we felt, to see them sitting over there in a side pew near the front, and then standing here on the platform – Israa at the mike saying thank you in better English than she thought, Louia standing beside her, and their (at that time) two children – Zain as quiet as ever, and Sham resplendent and beaming in her Snow White dress.  If hearts can smile, our hearts were smiling ventricle to ventricle that day.

And if hearts can shout aloud in joy, our hearts shouted the day a year or more before, when in our worship of God we were able to share the news of their safe arrival at the airport in Toronto, after their mountain-walk escape from Syria and weeks of hiding in Lebanon. 

              Praise the Lord! (it says in Psalm 146)

Do not put your trust in princes;

Happy are those whose help is the Lord their God,

who made heaven and earth, and keeps faith forever;
who executes justice for the oppressed;
          who …sets the prisoners free;

The Lord watches over the strangers;
          he upholds the orphan and the widow,
          and the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

The day we heard of the Assad's arrival, and on other days along that journey we felt part of something bigger than ourselves.  Part of something ultimately good.  Part of something that enlarged us, enlarged our own hearts and lives, made us somehow bigger and better people as well.

And isn’t that what joy is?  The feeling of being bigger, larger, better, more holy, more truly human, more loving and more beloved than we feel a lot of the time in our routine, mundane, workaday lives?

It’s a feeling you might have at the end of a spaghetti supper after all the guests have left, the last dishes are being washed and dried and put away, and you sit around the table talking about the day, all that was done, the people that were served, the joy that was shared around the tables and at the dessert counter and in happy conversation by all who came to eat, to connect, and to belong.  It’s a joy that lingers to be savoured as the long day gently draws to a close.

And it’s not just happy times that engender joy.  I feel it sometimes at the end of a hard and difficult conversation with someone.  Maybe it’s about some hard thing or a crisis in their life.  Some challenge or fear they are feeling.  Maybe even some disagreement and conflict we feel between us.  And it’s fearful – a little scary, to start.  But as we talk and give ourselves openly and honestly to the conversation, it’s as though a third presence begins to walk with us, speaking to each one of us in turn with words of hope, words of challenge and change, a little bit of light, a good next step.  And with that … there is joy.  Joy in the Lord who does not forsake us, who walks with us in good and healing ways no matter what, who helps us grow into bigger, better, more purposeful and meaningful, more truly human versions of ourselves.

It makes sense that Joy is named as the fourth of our four Core Values.  First, Together as Family.  Second, Grace-Based Love, or Loving as We Know We Are Loved.  Third, Service to the Community, Service Outside the Box.  And fourth, the fruit of it all, Joy that we share and grow into.

It’s a wonderful and holy progression.  And it’s not just a straight line that we walk from 1 to 4 and then are finished.  It’s more a circle, with Joy as that which leads us back to our togetherness as family in a deeper way than before, encouraging us as well to deeper ways of loving one another and of serving the community beyond us outside the box.

So what do we do with this?

Marie Kondo, of Netflix Tidying-Up fame and one of the current industry gurus of decluttering and organizing our excess of stuff, tells us to take everything out of our closets and drawers, for a while hold each thing we have in our hand, and let our heart tell us if this thing still brings us joy, or not.  If it does – if it brings us joy, then keep it; find a place for it.  And if it doesn’t, get rid of it; it no longer belongs.

I wonder what you think of maybe emptying out our closets and drawers here at church, pulling out everything we do and everything we are, holding each thing for a while in our hand, and letting our heart tell us if it still brings us joy or not.  Does this program or activity or this thing we do, still help us be together as family, still help us love one another in grace, still help us serve the community around us in ways that they need, and help us grow in joy?  If so, we keep it.  And anything that doesn’t we consciously, intentionally choose to get rid of.  It no longer belongs.

Rejoice in the Lord always (Paul says) … and whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about and do these things – the things that serve God’s purpose for you, that enlarge your life and increase your joy and the joy of others around you, and the God of peace will be with you.

Service outside the box (sermon from Sun, Feb 3, 2019)

Reading:  Acts 3:1-12

 

The Book of Acts tells the story of the Christian community that comes into being following the death and resurrection of Jesus.  In the New Testament it appears as a separate book, but originally it was written as the second part of the Gospel of Luke.  The first part of the Gospel is how the kingdom of God on Earth comes to light in the life and death of Jesus, and the second part is how it continues to come to light in the life and mission of Jesus’ followers.  The continuation of the Jesus-story in the life of Jesus’ followers is obvious in the story we read this morning, from Acts 3.

  

No surprise that it’s Peter who reaches out to the man born lame, and helps him be healed of his lifelong disability.  Who helps him stand on his own two feet for the first time in his life and be able to move from a place outside the gate, to join everyone else inside the Temple.

Here at Fifty we understand that kind of practical, hands-on, I’ll-do-what-I-can-for-you kind of spirituality.  Service to the Community has been named as one of our Core Values, and the only surprise some may feel is that it shows up as number three of the four, rather than at the top of the list.  Willingness to reach out and help others, is simply part of what we do here.

One of the first things I first learned about this congregation was its sponsorship – all by itself, of Vietnamese refugees a generation ago, and how this remains an important point of identity in this congregation’s story.  It made the decision a few years ago to help sponsor a Syrian family a no-brainer; it’s just the kind of thing this congregation does, and we’d be denying ourselves, we’d feel bad and guilty, we’d begin to question or existence and our calling as a church if we didn’t do things like this.

And this spirit gets expressed in all kind of ways.  I think of all the things at Christmas – the Wesley dinner, collecting for the Christmas and Holiday Store as well as a generous hamper for a family in need in our community, on top of all the other ways so many of our families reach out on their own to help make Christmas for others. Then there's City Kidz with our 10th or 11th Miracle Sunday coming up in a month or so.  And the Food Bank.  And missions like Inasmuch House and the Good Shepherd and all the other organizations that the Women of Fifty support every year -- and why it's good they maintain their own treasury so they can make those contributions.  The Sunday school years ago began sponsoring Banyala in Burkina Fasso through the Christrian Children's Fund, and we will be raising funds for this again this year with the annual Chili Cook-Off on March 3.  Alongside this, there's the civic leadership that members of this church are known for, the mission trips that more of our members are taking, and I haven't yet known this congregation to grumble about a special collection in response to some disaster or tragedy, or someone we know about in special need.

In the story of Peter and John in the Book of Acts going up to the Temple at the hour of prayer, we really are much more like Peter than John.  John is the more mystical and philosophical one.  He looks at things that Jesus says and does, and likes to spend some time thinking about their deeper, symbolic meaning.  The Gospel written in his name is the most metaphoric of the four, and the most focused on big, universal meanings.  At the Last Supper it is John who sits down beside Jesus, at one point is pictured leaning on his breast, almost listening to his heartbeat, seeking some kind of inner, spiritual unity with his master.

While Peter is the one getting his hands and feet washed.  Peter all along is a person of spontaneous speech and impetuous action.  His mantra is “Don’t just stand there, do something,” and the worst thing he can imagine doing is nothing.  He’s hands-on and practical, wants to make a difference right away, and is the first to jump in – even over his head, while the others stay back in the boat trying to figure out what their master calling them out, and what to do about it.

I think we’d like Peter here.  I hope he would feel at home and that he was among like-minded friends here, because service to the community is a holy strength, one of the ways God’s love and good news come alive in the world.  It’s a gift, and people who research things like this say it’s one of four spiritual paths a church can be on and be known for, and that this particular aspects of holy Spirit – what some call a Social Action Spirituality, can make a church really strong and vital for a long, long time.

So in the story, what does Peter, our brother, show us about Christ-like service of others?

For one thing, do you notice how he goes beyond just doing good in the expected way?  There’s a lame man at the gate of the Temple.  People bring him there every day, and other people give him alms.  Out of the goodness of their hearts, people help him – some by carrying him, others by reaching out to him with charitable support.  It’s how a lot of good gets done in the world for a lot of people and by a lot of people.

Peter, though, doesn’t do just the usual thing.  He thinks outside the box – in part because he’s a spontaneous, impetuous actor; in part because he has no money and has to think of another way of helping this man; and also because his ideas of what God wants to do for people has been affected by Jesus, his teacher.  So instead of just giving the man some money, he reaches out like Jesus did, to raise him up and help him be healed, and to have a new and different life because of it.

And the healing Peter helps happen unfolds in exactly the same way, by the same steps, as the healings Jesus helps happen.  With this action of Peter – so early and immediately after the death and the resurrection of Jesus, it becomes crystal clear that what Jesus did and brought to light in the world was just a beginning, and now it’s being carried on in and by his followers.

And as with Jesus’ healings, the healing that Peter helps happen is more than just a physical healing.  It’s a sign and an affirmation of so much more – of a healing of the lame man’s soul, of the freeing of his spirit, of a change in his life from being stuck outside and on the fringe of the community to being able to walk in and be part of its life for the first time in his life.  He’s a new person inside and out because of the way Peter approaches him, and what Peter offers him.

Peter starts by seeing the man.  And not seeing in just a haphazard, glancing kind of way.  The story says Peter “looked intently at him, as did John” and that he says to the man, “Look at us.”  In other words there is – just as there always is with Jesus and the people he meets and helps save from whatever enslaves them, there is a personal connection made.  There is a face-to-face encounter, real connection and communication, a getting-beneath-quick-surface-and-stereotyped-knowledge to a real awareness of the other as a person, as a fellow human being, as a brother or sister traveler on the way.

The man is lame from birth but in their meeting, to Peter and to the man himself he is not anymore just a two-dimensional lame man.  He is a man – a real and full human being with a whole life story of potential and limitations, of dreams and disappointments, of personal sorrows and unique struggles, of deep imprisonments and exclusions, and of equally deep and mostly hidden longings for inclusion, healing and wholeness.

Peter – being Peter, is not scared of this.  Faced with an abyss of need and of longing that he sees in the man’s eyes, he is not afraid of what he doesn’t have to offer.  “Silver and gold have I none,” he says.  Often we grow anxious when we don’t have what we think we need to offer someone – not enough money, not enough time, not enough resources, not a fancy or well-equipped enough building, not enough …whatever.

“But what I have, I offer you.”  And with that he reaches out … with what?  With friendship?  With love?  With warmth and a human conversation about things that matter?  With time to connect on more than just a charitable donation kind of level?

Peter really is poor, and in himself powerlessness to do anything about the situation.  And I wonder if sometimes we let our anxiety about what we don’t have and what we can’t do, get in the way of what we are called to do, and what a difference what we are able to offer really does make, how what we have to offer may be exactly the unexpected kind of thing – the out-of-the-box kind of connection that really makes the kind of difference that people around us are waiting for?

Peter somehow comes to see the other person, himself, and the situation they are in together, the way that Jesus did – and does.  He comes to look at this encounter through the eyes of Jesus, through the filter of what he has learned about the kingdom of God on earth because of Jesus.  He lets the story unfold and be acted out as part of the greater story of the spirit of Jesus and of the kingdom of God on earth, coming to life now in the events of his life.

And I wonder if this is where the companionship of John comes in, if maybe this is something John helps Peter to be growing into.  Peter by himself is the one who jumps in over his head and then starts to flail and flounder because once out of the boat he can’t stay connected with Jesus as much as he needs to, and on as deep a level as is needed for him to really follow.

Maybe John, the mystical one who thinks about the deeper meaning of things, who spends time so close with Jesus that he comes to think and feel and be moved like Jesus is, is starting to change Peter just a bit.  Is beginning to add a little mystical depth to Peter’s activism.  Is helping Peter be open to the deeper meaning of things.  Is moving him beyond merely do-good activism, and into the realm of the kingdom of God alive in us and through us.

Because the impetuous, do-good activism that Peter brings to us can get exhausting after a while, and make us feel like we’re floundering, are in over our head, and may drown in the great sea of all we are trying to do.

But with what John brings to the table – a closeness with Jesus and with his spirit, what we are given is an awareness of the power and the purpose of God working in us and through us that cannot but make us want to reach out and make healing and wholeness possible for others as well, because of what God is doing– not just we are doing, in the world.

I read something just yesterday from someone called Hafiz in a little work called “The Gift”:

It used to be [he says]
that when I would wake in the morning
I could with confidence say, “What am ‘I’ going to do?”
That was before the seed cracked open.
Now Hafiz is certain:
There are two of us housed in this body
Doing the shopping together in the market and
Tickling each other while fixing the evening’s food.
Now when I awake all the internal instruments
Play the same music:
“God, what love-mischief can
we do for the world today?”

That is a Social Action Spirituality, and the expression of a Core Value of service to the community that probably never grows old, or tired or fades away.