Towards Sunday, May 15, 2016 (Pentecost Sunday)

Readings:
Acts 2:1-21 (The disciples of Jesus wait together for whatever will empower them to become the body and presence of Christ in the world.  It's the Feast of Pentecost -- a celebration of the first fruit of the harvest; this is what they are to be in the world -- a first sign of what all humanity is meant to be on Earth.  Then it comes -- a wind from heaven, tongues of fire upon each of them, and all of them empowered in different and complementary ways to help the world understand the good news of God's kingdom-come-and-coming.)

John 14:12-17, 25-17 (At the Last Supper Jesus promises his disciples that when he leaves, they will be empowered by God's Spirit to do as he has done in, with and for the world, and to do even more than he has done.)


In my late teens and early University years I attended a large Bible study of mostly young people from across the city of Winnipeg -- Jesus Freaks, curious seekers, a corps of charismatic leaders, and a bunch of well-heeled church kids looking for something.  Each Friday night 75-100 people crammed into a large, old home for up to 3 hours of singing, praying and Bible exposition; almost weekly there was also a manifestation of glossolalia -- a number of people speaking in tongues.   It was my first and only experience of hearing people speak in tongues.

My church home was a German/English Baptist church with hour-long worship dominated by the minister's sermon, a few hymns and a choir anthem.  We were mostly spoken to, and not at all in tongues.  The charismatic Bible study seemed a radical, risky and rebellious thing to be attending, and even though I was never drawn myself to seek "the gift of tongues" I was immensely glad to be able to listen in.  

It was probably the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life.  It usually began quietly in a corner of the room, gradually rose to draw in a few more voices, was carried for maybe 10 or 15 minutes that seemed like a heavenly eternal moment, and then gradually faded. I do not doubt it was a movement of the spirit, and I was deeply grateful to know "there is something more" to church, God and faith than what I felt in my home church. 

Something more.

I wonder if that's what Pentecost and the emergence of the church are about -- discovering and beginning to live out "something more" that we are created, promised and called to be. Something beyond us, that we can only receive as gift and be surprised by.  Or maybe something deeply within us, not foreign at all, but which normally is hidden, unrecognized and unexpressed.

Does this fullness of living in the kingdom come only in fellowship and communion with other followers of Jesus?

How do we wait for it?  Open ourselves to it?  

Have we found it -- do we find it now, in our being-together and waiting at Fifty?  What holy and Christ-like thing are we able to do and to be in, with and for the world -- because we are together and waiting on God, that we could never do or be on our own?

 

Sermon from May 8, 2016 (Mothers Day)

Reading:  Acts 16-34

Theme:  Free to love (and be loved0

Is a mother ever really free?  Whether it’s a child of her body or a child of her heart, is a mother ever free just to do what she wants, go where she wishes, live just for herself?  Even if her child or the children are gone, is a mother ever not always defined in some deep way by whatever feelings of gratitude, or grief, or guilt, or love – whatever sense of closeness, of distance or of absence persist? 

Is a mother ever free?

I ask the question because today is Mothers’ Day.  I ask also because our reading is filled – is populated, with persons all of whom in one way or another are not free.

There’s Paul and Silas, ready to tell all the world the good news of God’s love and kingdom come true in Christ, but not free to go just wherever they choose.  They wait like soldiers in a barracks, like servants in the master’s house, until the call comes.  And when the call comes, they go – to spread the good news to Philippi, and be beaten and jailed for their actions.

There’s Lydia, who at first blush seems the freest one of all in the story – a Gentile able to pray with the Jews without becoming one herself, a woman of substance, a seller of purple to the upper class, head of a business and a household.  But how free really is she?  What is it she is looking for among the Jews that she cannot find in her own past and her own culture?  In a patriarchal culture what masks does she wear, what ruses does she employ, what risks does she face over and over again?  And with her place in society, how limited is she in who she can befriend and associate with?

At the other end of the social spectrum, there’s the young woman possessed by a demon of divination and enslaved to her handler and manager.  She’s nameless.  Like the young women at the shrine in Delphi she divines the future for anxious souls willing to pay to know what may befall them, but she is not free to chart her own future for herself. 

Her owners too are enslaved to an economic system that drives them to own another human being, and makes them feel at risk when they can no longer live off her gift.

The magistrates they appeal to are bound to serve the interests of the moneyed class, and to maintain an unjust social order because it pays their bills.

And finally there’s the jailer whose main job in life is to follow orders, so when everything goes wrong and at midnight all the prisoners are suddenly freed of their chains and he fears a mass jail break, he’s so scared of what this will mean for him that he’s ready to take his own life.

Everyone’s captive in some way to some greater and higher power.  And the only question – the one question that makes all the difference in the world, is what power they allow themselves to be captive to. 

Is it a power that divides, that dominates, that controls in unholy ways, and that brings death into people’s lives?     

Or is it a power that gathers together what’s scattered, that reaches out to heal, that creates equal and mutual community across lines that normally divide,that brings life and makes good life possible for all, that makes people free to do the one and only thing that really counts, which is to love and be loved?

That’s the power Paul and Silas find in Christ, and to which they willingly commit their lives, their gifts, and their energies.  It’s why instead of rushing off in any direction that comes to mind, they wait to know where God is preparing fertile ground.  Why when they get to where they’re going, instead of launching a mass campaign of signs and wonders to attract the crowds, they start with simple face-to-face conversation with individual persons.  Why they let the people they talk to, decide how and where the new community will happen.  Why when they get into trouble they accept the consequences, and when they have a chance to get out of jail free they choose to stay and help their jailer not to get into trouble because of them.

For Lydia, life takes a turn towards joy and she finds what she’s been looking for when she opens herself and her house to this way and this Word that have come into the world to make it one welcoming family under God, and she lets her house become a home – a nurturing womb, for the new kind of community taking shape in her city.

For the jailer, life is changed for good and he and his house are transformed when through Paul and Silas he comes to see and accept a power of life and love greater than that of his bosses, and greater and better than the civil order he is sworn to serve.

And for the magistrates …unfortunately for the magistrates and for the owners of the young woman, things don’t change because like most middle managers and people in the middle class of any system, they feel the most caught.  They have a little bit in the world – just enough to make them afraid of losing what they have, so they stay captive to the powers that be, the power they know – no matter how unjust, ungenerous, and unfree it may be.

We all are captive to something.  The question is whether the power we serve helps us or hinders us, to be free to love.

Which brings me to the one person we haven’t yet got back to in the story – the young woman set free of the spirit of divination and thus made worthless to her owners.  Nothing is said of her fate, and I wonder what happens to her beyond the bounds of this story.

As a slave-girl does she have any family to go back to?  If she does, will they welcome her – another unemployed mouth to feed?  Will her owner maybe find other work for her, and keep her just as enslaved?  Or will she be abandoned, set loose to live where she can with no visible means and no community of support?  Does she count, or is she just collateral damage? 

An unimportant nobody – a statistic, on the edge of society?  An unwanted, left-over shadow on the underbelly of the dominant culture?

The story seems to fall this little bit short of what we expect a Jesus story to be. 

Because if Jesus had been there – in the perfection of himself rather than just in his servant Paul, would she have been freed of her demon in anger and exasperation, as she was by Paul?  Or would Jesus have taken the time to stop whatever he was doing, call her forward and talk with her, ask her what she really wanted, and then heal her as she wished – the way any good mother would do?

If Jesus had been there, would she have remained nameless?  Or, like the Divine Father and Mother of us all who know us all by name, would he have wanted to know who she really was and where she came from – what her story was?  Would he have helped both her and us to learn about, and value her God-given identity and worth?

If Jesus had been there, would she have slipped through the cracks and off the page of the story as she has?  Or would she have been welcomed into the new community being created over at Lydia’s house, and been offered a place where she could find and share with others her own unique gifts for the work of the kingdom of God on Earth?

I have to confess, she fell through the cracks of my attention and was completely off my radar by the time I got to the end of the story.  I wonder … no matter how like Jesus we may be in the story of what we do, is there also always some way in which we are not? In our story as followers and disciples of Jesus, is there also always – even now, some way in which we fall short, in someone we forget, or diminish, or leave behind, or count as unimportant or unworthy of being included in our care?

It’s good news to me, to us, as much as to anyone, that because God is love, God is not free.  Like a mother’s children never lost to her heart, her hand, her home, her table, and there is always room at God’s table for us all – no matter whether at any given time we be a true child of the family, a friend, a neighbour, a stranger, or even an apparent enemy of the kingdom.

God and all humankind are bound as mother and child are bound, by whatever feelings of gratitude, grief, guilt, or love exist – by whatever sense of closeness, distance or absence persist. 

And God always keeps the door open, sets a place for us, and waits for us to come in just as we are, to be counted as part of the kingdom family, to take our place at the table and be fed into the amazing fullness of the family that is God’s.

Towards Sunday, May 8, 2016

Reading: 

Acts 16:6-34 (Paul and Silas roll into town and after beginning a small Christ-centred fellowship, they run afoul of the local power brokers and authorities by freeing a spirit-possessed young woman who is being exploited by her 'managers.'  They are thrown into jail because the town council can't have people like them disturbing the way things work for the good of the people that count.  But then the Spirit of God turns the tables and sets them free from the power of the jailer.  The jailer is understandably afraid of what will be done to him by his superiors when they learn that he has been over-powered … until into this apparent power-struggle to see who is greater in the world, Paul ends the struggle for supremacy and power with a different kind of message and way of being together -- which, he says, is what Christ is all about.) 

Quite a power struggle going on here.  Who is allowed to do what on the streets of Philippi?  Whose interests and well-being are more important?  Who is in control?  

The story could easily have become all about who (or whose God) is more powerful -- a religious version of the old my-dad-can-beat-your-dad playground argument.  (Or -- when we get older, my car/cell phone/job/kids' resumes can beat your car/cell phone/job/kids' resumes.)  And I think that's how I was taught it years and years ago in Sunday school.

But Paul doesn't fall into that death-trap.  When the Spirit frees him and the others from the power of the jailer, he doesn't triumphantly process out of the prison to broadcast the power of his God.  (How does that song go?  Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey-hey-hey, good-bye?) 

Rather, he sits down and stays where he is, talks with the jailer about what's going on, and invites the jailer to join him in a community that seeks and practices a new way -- a way of inclusive love, rather than dominating control. 

It takes a lot of confidence in the gospel and in the kingdom of God to be able to do that -- to not exert the control or act out the power you have, to not assert your superiority, and instead to invite the other into honest, equal dialogue and relationship with you.

I wonder if I have that confidence in God?  To let go control?  To not be in charge?  To let wider and more inclusive community happen for the good of all?  In what situations does this get tested?

And ... thinking of being inclusive and inviting ... one final niggling question: what about the slave-girl who was freed of the demon?  What happens to her once she is freed of the disorder or demon that made her of worth o her master?  She was his slave because she was of use to him; what happens to her now?

Sermon from Sunday, Mai 1, 2016

Reading:  John 5:1-9

So much in this story that’s right and good – so much going on that’s helpful and faithful.

People have come to Jerusalem for one of the feasts.  We don’t know which one, but they have come together from different parts of the country – come from separated lives

•  to be a people together at the holy centre 
•    to remember the old stories of the acts of God in earlier days 
•   to nourish and rekindle their flickering hope in God someday acting again to save them and set them free 
• in this combination of memory and hope, to find the strength to carry on as God’s people in the world as it is

And that’s enough, isn’t it?  We know it is.  It’s good and right – helpful and faithful.  It’s something we need, and most times it is enough.

__________

And now it’s the sabbath – day of rest, and in the midst of the festivities and busyness of the city and the feast, people have gathered to share the peace of the day at the pool by the Sheep Gate. 

The pool is a good size – about 20 by 300 feet – 6 by almost 100 metres, with large columns and porticoes where people can gather in groups.  It’s ornate and attractive.  Soothing and inviting.  It’s a public place where people meet, where for six days business is done, where on the sabbath people rest together in the grace of the day.  Because on the sabbath they are prohibited from working, from travelling, from cooking, from carrying loads – from doing most ordinary things of the week.  And it’s a liberating thing – a chance to rest in God’s goodness and promise – to remember all things are held together for good ultimately by God – to live now with a little foretaste of heaven – and that’s good, isn’t it?  At times, that’s as good as it gets – as close as we can feel to heaven in this life.

_____________

And yet there is more.  This pool is a healing pool.  The water is from an underground spring, and at times it is stirred – some say by an angel, and when that happens, those who are able to enter it in time are healed.  They are cured of weakness and infirmity – their pains and sorrows in life are removed – they are lifted and set free by the good will of God for whole and true life.

Not all find their way in.  Like the man who has been lame, for 38 years.  He has found his way to the pool, but when the water’s stirred, others push in ahead of him, others have friends to help them.  And he is left – nearby, at the edge, just outside the circle of those who are healed and set free for new and true life.  But still -- sometimes that seems enough.  Just knowing that it happens – even if just for others.  From what we see and hear, knowing it’s real and possible.  Sometimes – most times?? – isn’t that enough?  As close to God’s healing power as we need – or maybe want, to come?

________________

Except – Jesus then comes to us.  Jesus sees the man-lame-for-38-years lying there just beyond the edge of the water.  He knows he has been there a long time.  And he says, “Do you want to be made well?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it?  Do you want to stay on the edge, or do you want to enter in?  Do you want as good as it gets, or do you want more?  Do you want enough, or do you want life lifted up, made whole, and filled to overflowing?

Through the Easter season in our worship we have been made aware of a variety of opportunities for mission and ministry that have come to us, and we’ve put symbols of them on the resurrection tree here in our sanctuary:

• ·         Stoney Creek Food Bank – helping to feed the hungry in our community.

• ·         City Kidz – caring for, and sharing hope with children and families living in poverty in Hamilton

• ·         United to Help Syrians – helping a family still living at risk in Syria to come to safety in Canada

• ·         Don McEneny – on the weekend of June 4, we will give the proceeds from the Lobster Dinner and will collect other donations as well, as a gift of support to Don,  who was injured while volunteering at the church

It sounds like a lot, especially all at once.  It may seem we cannot do them all.  In fact, in a very deep way, we cannot do any.  In many ways we are as unable to do what we would like to be able, as the man who was lame for 38 years and unable to get into the pool.

We cannot save the world.  We cannot solve all hunger and poverty, cure all war and brokenness.  But – and here is the good news – we are invited to be part of the working of God in the midst of all these things.  We are invited to stand up and find our way in to the stirring of God’s Word and Spirit in the waters of our time.

And it really is an invitation.  An open and honest question God asks of us, to which we are free to say yes or no or whatever. 

I can’t tell you how many times, for instance, Japhia and I have looked at the picture of the child in Bolivia that we sponsor through World Vision, have said we should finally write a letter to get involved beyond just our monthly donation, and we haven’t yet.  Or how many other invitations to take part in some opportunity for mission have been met with excuses, good reasons, and just simple evasions.

We’ve no idea why things come to us as they do.  Why certain opportunities open up, and others don’t.

Just as we’ve no idea why Jesus offers healing and new life to the man that he does.  Why that man and not another?  Why anyone at all?

Except this is how God works – how the God’s Word and Spirit stir the water of our time and of our lives – how we are saved and made whole.  It’s by God seeing us where we are … coming to us with wholeness of life in mind … reaching out to touch and stir our hearts with a vision and an invitation … and us responding as we will.

There’s so much in this story … and so much all around us, that’s right and good, that’s helpful and faithful.

Towards Sunday, May 1, 2016

Readings:

John 5:1-9 (People have come to Jerusalem for a big religious festival, and it's Sabbath -- a time just to rest and thankfully enjoy the sacred space and time together.  At a sacred pool in the city, noted for its occasional healing power, Jesus encounters a man lame for 38 years and without anyone to help him get to the pool at the times of healing.  So Jesus helps him find healing.)

Acts 16:6-13, 16-26 (Paul, already a rebel -- what today would be called an innovative leader, feels called to respond to a sense of need in Macedonia -- Macedonia???  -- and what comes of this adventuresome, open-ended journey, is a) a wonderful new community of faith in the gospel of Christ and the kingdom of God on Earth, and b) jail time and a legal warning for upsetting the city and the power of some of its established citizens.)

Preaching again -- after two weeks not.  I hope the congregation feels as good about this as I do.

Two stories of healing.  How can we not like them?  Who doesn't love a healing story?

But the healings of Jesus and his followers are so different from "healing" that we know.  These healings create immediate upset and civic disturbance -- and more than "the power to heal," this upset to the way things are seems to be the point of the stories.

For us, healing is usually individual and personal.  A matter of "returning to normal" or "recovering health."  And often it happens quietly and easily -- with medication; by patient process (no pun intended); and in a controlled, antiseptic, isolated environment.  There's a certain "smoothness" and sanitariness to our experience and hope of healing.

In these stories, though, healing is anything but smooth, sanitary and peaceful.  It happens against the rules.  Upsets systems of power and relationship.  Changes the whole game.  Because of who is healed and set free, and how, and to what effect, people are honestly divided about whether what Jesus and his followers are doing is good or bad for their world, and whether they support it or not.

If there is good news here, it seems to be for those (including me, when I'm honest) whose "normal" involves being caught in prisons or brokenness -- big or small, of their own or others' design -- and needing a way out.

At the very least, it makes me ready to expand my understanding of what God's will to heal us (and others) involves, and how it may be seen at work in the world today.