Preaching Shadows

So my sermons are not in order these last few months, and one is missing because I never wrote it down, not even a note. It turned out really well, and I might be able to recreate it, but it was a month ago and I forget my sermons pretty quickly (which you have to do in order to remember the next one. At least that's how it works for me. Tell me Monday, "Good sermon" and I'll struggle to remember what it was about even though I thought about it all the previous week.)

I just have to say I have mixed feelings still about putting my sermons in written form on the internet. Preaching is a particular form of communication and for me writing the sermon is very different from preaching the sermon. The words are approximate to what I said. I don't use notes when I preach. I write an outline down sometime Saturday and never look at it again, usually. Mostly I find that the written word doesn't carry the energy of preaching, at least not these written words. I can write with energy, but sermons get their energy from what happened when I was in a room with the congregation and we all encountered the text together.

Preaching is very communal. The sermon is for a specific situation, a specific congregation, a specific date and time. It is unique to that encounter. I always feel as if the people of the congregation pull the sermon out of me. They add much to the experience and process of preaching.

So these words on this digital media are not the sermon, just a shadow of what I tried to say that particular day.

Living With It

Sermon: Living With It Luke 9:28-36
Transfiguration Sunday, 2.18.07 Year B

God invites us to climb mountains.

Moses climbed the Mount Sinai to hear the word of the Lord. Today’s lectionary reading is for the second time he went up – you remember from the movie what happened the first time he came down, with the golden calf and all that. He smashed the tablets and did damage control and then had to go back up to get another copy of the commandments. He spent 40 days (which means “a long time.”) It was such a powerful time for him his face glowed for the rest of his life. He had to wear a veil whenever he walked around.

Jesus climbed the mountain with his close friends Peter, James and John, and had this incredible encounter with God we heard about today. Moses and Elijah showed up and talked with Jesus, and the glory of God covered them all and God spoke to them.

We are also invited to that time of deep, intense relationship with God, the mountaintop experience, the time away. We send our kids to camp, to UMYS, we go on retreat, we go on vacation, to concerts, we spend time in prayer or devotion, we go to worship.

Climbing a mountain involves some dedication on our part, time away, stressing our muscles, carrying what we need to the top. We have to be intentional about going to the mountain. It is a beautiful place – the air is thinner, the light shines differently, the beauty is stark.

But we don’t live on the mountain. We have to come back down.

Peter wanted to build some dwelling so they could stay in that beautiful moment with Moses and Elijah and Jesus. He didn’t want to come back down. He knew it wouldn’t be easy.

The transition can be rough. When Moses came down he had to lead the people of Israel, people who couldn’t even look at him anymore. When the disciples came down Jesus invited them to do a healing that they botched. You’d expect after hearing the voice of God they could have pulled it off, but they didn’t. It was a rough re-entry.

They say astronauts have a hard time re-entering civilian life. After being on the moon, flying in space, coming to ground and returning to earth is difficult. One week they are walking in space, the next they are walking the garbage out. Newspapers speculate Astronaut Nowak’s recent trouble is related to the difficulty of that transition.

We know how hard it is to return after vacation, or retreat, or after an incredible celebration like a wedding. We know what it feels like to come home after camp, after a youth trip, after a fabulous worship experience or concert. But we don’t live on the mountain. We have to come down. We have to come home.

And then we have to learn to live with whatever we saw on the mountain.

We have to live with it. We have to incorporate this experience into our lives. We don’t just go back to the way things were because we have been changed. Something happened to us.

And while we can’t stay on the mountain, we can take whatever experience we had with us.

So Moses remembered being in God’s presence, and someone wrote the story down for everyone to know.

When Jesus neared the cross, certainly he remembered those moments in the light and glory. Peter, James and John remembered it too, and someone wrote it down. Surely it was a comfort to them in the days after the crucifixion, and after the resurrection. They carried it with them, that sense of who Jesus was.

Martin Luther King Jr. preached on April 3, 1968 about not knowing if he would see the promised land of racial equality, but he said he had seen the glory of God. He was shot the next day – hopefully he carried his sense of God’s connection with him in those moments. Those who followed him remembered those words, and they mattered to them.

Spiritual teachers tell that in meditation, seeing the glory of God – the light, the glow, however it comes – is not the point. It’s the way we carry the presence of God around with us in the mundane, everyday moments of our lives that matters. Those moments of connection are incredible, and we strive to have those in worship and spiritual growth opportunities in church. But it’s the way we carry that knowledge or that experience, through the rest of our lives that makes a life of faith.

The transfiguration, the mountain, doesn’t reveal anything to us that wasn’t already there. We just see it in a new light. That new seeing is what we need to take with us. God’s glory isn’t a once in a lifetime thing; it is around us every moment. We just don’t see it every moment. To live with it means to remember that God is with us, always, everywhere; that the mountain is never far away.

(For my benediction I sang Sara Thomsen’s song: “May the long time sun shine upon you, all love surround you. May the pure pure light that’s within you guide your way home.”)

God's Eyes

God’s Eyes Luke 6:17-26, The Beautitudes 6^th Sunday of Epiphany Year C

Preached February 11, 2007 at Hope UMC

As I read the scripture today, close your eyes and picture it in your mind. What does it look like? What do the people look like? How are they responding to what they are hearing?

I see this story from the eyes of a tourist, 21 years old in a cotton skirt on a hot summer day. That’s how old I was when I traveled to Israel, and I have a photo of this location, of the Church of the Beautitudes and me standing on the portico in the sun.

Many Christians see this story as a gentle telling of blessings, people sitting peacefully listening to Jesus tell them they are, despite everything, the blessed of God.

A historian might see the peasants of an occupied country gathered on the hillside to listen to a man they wish would bring revolution. A biblical scholar might see the people longing for healing and wholeness in their lives. A mystic might see the people longing to connect with the Holy.

The people sitting there – what was it like in their eyes? Did they think this man was crazy? Proclaiming the very people no one wanted to be near as blessed? Or were they shocked to be included themselves in that grouping?

How did Jesus see it? In Jesus’ eyes, what were the people in front of him like: these people who likely had enough food for just the next day at any given time, who were on the edge of poverty or right there, who ate grief for breakfast and despair for dinner. What did he see?

In God’s eyes – what was this scene like?

In God’s eyes – what did God see? What did Jesus know of that view? What do we not see that has us still stumbling over these words after so many years? I don’t know about you, but these words are not easy ones. In these descriptions I see scarcity; Jesus describes abundance. I see pain; Jesus declares blessing. I see disappointment and danger; Jesus sees hope. I know my eyesight isn’t so good but what is happening here?

A photo was taken of the Helix Nebula, a dying star near the Aquarius constellation, and posted on the Astronomy Picture of the Day website on May 10, 2003. It looks like an eye, and was quickly dubbed “Eye of God” as it made its way around the internet. You can find it on my blogsite. Funny how we imagine God’s Eye to be far away, so far it takes our most recent and powerful instruments to see it.

But that is how we think of God seeing us. The popular song, “From a Distance,” describes God this way: From a distance God sees us, and God sees us the way we wish we were, in peace and harmony and beauty. Maybe the poor and the hungry and the grieving look blessed from that view, from that perspective somewhere out there in the universe.

Then I could understand how Jesus says, Blessed are the poor.

Except that scripture tells us that God sees us up close too.
God knit us together in our mother’s womb.
God knows the hairs on our heads.
God sees the sparrow fall.
God knows the word before it is on our tongue.
God walks with us, even in darkness. This is no distant God.

In God’s eyes we are as we are, in glaring, embarrassing detail,
and as we were created to be.
In God’s eyes our potential and our past are held together in grace.
In God’s eyes the spark of life deep within us is always visible,
even if the world has done much to put it out.
In God’s eyes those who make us most uneasy are called blessed and
those we most admire are given woe.

I don’t know much about God’s eyes. God see things differently than I do.

But if I’m going to follow this Jesus, I’m going to have to try
to get a new prescription, a new perspective,
a new point of view
because if the beautitudes are real,
I’m gonna have to learn to see the world through new eyes.

Put Out Into the Deep Water

Luke 5:1-11, 5th Sunday of Epiphany Year C
Preached February 4, 2007 at Hope UMC

Put out into the deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.

Peter had a lot of reasons not to do this: he’d been fishing all night, they’d already fished that spot, fish are always in the shallows, what did a carpenter know about fishing anyway – a lot of reasons to say no. But he did. He put out into the deep water, and let down his nets for a catch.

We avoid deep water. Generally we want to stay in the shallows, where we can see the bottom, where we are in familiar territory. Whatever we do, we don’t want to get in over our heads.

Put out into the deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.

The Bishop spoke to the Confirmation students last week about a very practical program the UMC is involved in: Nothing But Nets. She talked first about the UMC, a little of how it works, and how big it is – 10-11 million people worldwide.

Then she spoke of malaria – it kills 1 million people a year, 3000 people a day, 1 person every 30 seconds. It comes from mosquitoes that bite at night – we know all about mosquitoes here; can you imagine not having screen windows? Children are very susceptible. But a net has been developed, insecticide treated, that can cover a bed of a family of four. $10 buys the net and some training for the family to use it. Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated has been trying to distribute these nets and when he traveled to Africa he discovered that the UMC was everywhere. So he called the UMC headquarters and asked if we would help distribute these nets. Now there is a partnership between Sports Illustrated, the NBA, and the UMC – with a $3 million challenge grant from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation – to buy and distribute these nets. They last a few years.

I held my child who was sick in the middle of the night in the ER this week and thought about the mothers losing their children to this disease. For me a thought like that is putting out into the deep, going into the deep part of my fear, the kind of thing that gnaws at me in the middle of the night. But Jesus says, “Put out into the deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.” I’m buying some nets. I’m starting with five.

Put out into the deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.

Another place that is scary to consider is thinking about global warming, or climate change, depending upon your perspective. The news has been dire this week, as more and more people are coming to the belief that something is going on, that we are in trouble. This cold snap isn’t proof of anything; our world is changing quickly.

I’m hearing people of faith of all sorts talking about this more, wondering what we should do. And suddenly the people of Hope are talking about this too. The Trustees are exploring how we might become more green, which means using less energy, which means, among other things, reducing our energy bill. We’ve had a consultant come in who switched out, for free, some light bulbs so more of them are compact fluorescents. Our new boiler is a good thing, and the trustees are looking at what else might help.

And we are going to look at this issue during Lent. The texts during Lent in the Old Testament are about the people’s relationship with the land, a good way for us to consider this topic. Our Wednesday night programs will feature some videos and speakers and worship on the issue.

This isn’t easy, and we haven’t done this sort of thing before. But Jesus says, go into the deep places, and let down your nets. Go into the scary places and see what I will do for you there.

Put out into the deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.

In ancient times the deep water was a symbol of chaos, the evil chaos at the beginning of creation before God began to work. Deep water is a symbol for all that is dark and unknown.

Peter had to put his nets into the deep more than once in his walk with Jesus. This fishing story started it all, but Peter time and again had to face the deep, unknown, scary part of his own heart as he followed Jesus. We see in the Gospel stories how little Peter understood of his own heart, and of death, as he encouraged Jesus to stay on the mountain when Moses and Elijah showed up there in glory, as he professed his faithfulness only to deny Jesus hours later, as he struggled to believe that Jesus was alive again on Sunday morning.

But Peter went into the deeps of his own self. He put out his nets over and over, even in the same places, and he kept following Jesus. He didn’t let his failure of faith stop him in the end; he went on to be one of the greatest leaders of the early church. And the Bible does not paint him that well – we know his faults, his failures. He went into the deep place, even the deep place of failure, and his nets were full to bursting, time and time again.

Put out into the deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.

What deep water is Jesus calling us to?

Our Best Part

1 Corinthians 12, 3rd Sunday of Epiphany C
preached January 21, 2007 at Hope UMC, Duluth

When I was a youth I asked Mom what my spiritual gift was. I had read this text in 1 Corinthians 12 at church and thought this list was pretty interesting. So I asked her, and she said, “Oh honey, your gift is love.”

“But I don’t want the gift of love,” I said to her. “I want something else.”

“Love is the best gift,” she said. “That’s the one you have.

I have felt bad about this conversation for years. How obnoxious of me, to not choose love.

Well, don’t tell my mother, but I think she was wrong. Recently in our Covenant Discipleship group someone was speaking about how compassion was an easy thing for them and she looked at me and said, “Justice is so clearly your strength, Michelle.” Yup. Compassion isn’t the easiest part for me. Now I’m not saying your pastor isn’t compassionate, because I am, and I do care about you, and I will work towards being more loving my whole life. In fact, we clergy promise to strive to be perfect in love in this life when we are ordained, and I will keep trying.

But it isn’t my best gift. My best gift is vision and leadership. I can see where we can go and how to get there.

So, even though I am terribly nearsighted, in the body of Christ, I am an eye.

I won’t name names here, but you may know who I mean, or know I am thinking of you: let’s consider the parts of the body of Christ known as Hope UMC.

The hearts, and there are more than one of you -- those who love and seek out ways to bring love to those in congregation.

Ears – those who listen to what is happening and hear people’s hurt.

Hands – those who keep the building running, who cook for us, who tend our gardens.

Feet – those who go into the community to carry hope to those around us.

Knees – those who help us bend and turn and be flexible.

Voices – those who sing and give us music.

The right brain –those who give us art and beauty.

The left brain – those who ask questions, solve problems, and teach us.

The lungs – those who to breathe in the spirit for us.

Our facia – those who work to connect us.

The stomach – those who keep supplies coming to all of us and our ministry.

Tear ducts –those who cry our joy and pain.

This body is a wonderful metaphor for the church. But perhaps we have more than one gift. The clergy of the Minnesota Annual Conference have done Discover Your Strengths by the Gallup organization. It tells us our top five strengths, the five body parts we play best.

The metaphor also breaks down when we think of the body as a closed system – because in the church we can have 3 eyes, and 6 arms, or 60; we welcome more people and they don’t have to have an exact gift or fit – we may not know we need what they have and they may not know what it is they will bring

But this is an important metaphor in many ways. Paul asks us, do we boast about our part? Well, tell me, which one part of your body would you like to keep?

Or do we think our part isn’t good enough? Again, tell me, which one part of your body would you like to do without? Even your toenails, humble as they are, are critical to your mobility and comfort.

Or do you think you should really be working on another gift?

I will have to continue to learn about compassion, and my Covenant Discipleship group will teach me, but I think I will be of better service as I embrace what God really made me for. And you – God created each of us with purpose and hope and a dream. Is this a place you can live that out? Is this a place you can offer the gift of your life? Is this a place you can feel you are an essential part of the body of Christ?

And as the body of Christ, working together, what will we do? What is this body’s gift for the community? You have named it hope, we have described it for all generations, and we are still continuing to discover what gift this body has for the world.

May we delight in this body, dance, celebrate, experience and feel the incarnation of Christ that is known as Hope United Methodist Church.

Temptation: Luke 4:1-13

1st Sunday of Lent, Year C

(There is no church today, but here is the sermon I was going to preach.)

Like last year I decided this season to give up meat for Lent. I’d like to be a vegetarian but it doesn’t work too well with my family, so I figure tithing my diet – 40 days is a little more than 10% of the year – is a decent attempt. So Wednesday morning I got up and my mother-in-law put a plate of the most delicious smelling bacon in front of me and I ate it up. Then I remembered it was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, and said, “Oops.”

That is how temptation seems to us – "oops. I didn’t mean to. It was right there in front of me. I couldn’t help it." Temptation seems like a trick to us, a game – we are trying to be “good” but someone or something got in our way. We are trying to follow this narrow path while temptation looms on every side.

Our text this morning is the story of Jesus in the desert facing three temptations. This story should be a help and inspiration to us, right? Except that Jesus seems so perfect, he can’t possibly understand the temptations and difficulties we face. He goes into the desert for awhile, the devil shows up one afternoon and tosses three temptation to him, Jesus responds quickly and accurately with the right scripture quote and “Bingo!” Temptation is all done. He leaves the desert and goes about his ministry untroubled.

Parker Palmer would suggest that it isn’t this way. We are reading his book, The Active Life in Sunday School. He writes,“If we are to experience the story of Jesus in the desert as anything other than a boringly predictable morality play, we must be open to the educative potentials of temptations, to the fact that temptations are not there to be avoided…If the temptation is put before you, and you flunk the test, as Adam and Eve did, it may not be a terminal failure at all. It may be the opening of a great and generative journey into truth.”

Being human means having choice. The story of the apple and serpent with Adam and Eve tries to describe what this means – that our relationship with God involves the possibility of us choosing God or not choosing God. If we can’t choose God, we can’t have a real relationship. If we have the option of not choosing God, we can get into trouble. And we do.

It seems we always have two choices – good and bad. We feel sometimes as if we have someone luring us into the bad choice, and God is sitting quietly watching us in judgment as we try to discover the correct option. If we take the wrong road we are lost forever, it seems.

But I think it’s more than Choice A and Choice B. It’s much more complex. At any given moment we have many, many choices. We choose one. Some doors are now open to us, some doors are now closed. But the way ahead is not closed. Not until we die. Maybe not even then. God is always with us, and God is luring us into the best possible next choice, and then the next. God is right with us, gently trying to suggest to us what choice will be most filled with life and possibility. When we get it right, we experience grace and new life. And a new vista of roads open up before us.

I spoke to someone recently about a colleague of mine who has been brought up on criminal charges. It’s a sad story, and although he hasn’t had a trial yet he’s been tried in the local newspaper. I said, “He’s ruined his life, his whole life.” I worry about him -- he must be seeing a very barren desert in front of him. The woman responded, “No, it is never ruined. There is always hope.”

She’s right. I should have remembered that. I’ve had moments – not like this colleague, although pretty dramatic nonetheless – where I thought I had made a choice that would be the end of me; I thought I had ruined my life. But I finally found the voice of God with me in that place, and I’ve been led, one choice after another, into a wonderful new life. Even when we seem most lost, God offers a way forward, through the desert, into life.

We are looking this Lent at issues of choice, life and temptation in our world – issues of whether we have ruined our lives or if there is hope. We are going to delve this season on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings into a discussion about Global climate change, global warming. Some are saying it is too late; some are saying there’s no problem; some are saying our choices from here on out are critical. However it plays out, we are not alone.

James Healey in Starting Point puts it well: "Whether we gaze with longing into the garden or with fear and trembling into the desert, of this we can be sure – God walked there first. And when we who have sinned and despoiled the garden are challenged now to face the desert, we do not face it alone. Jesus has gone there before us to struggle with every demon that has ever plagued a human heart. Face the desert we must if we would reach the garden, but Jesus has gone there before us."

Jesus has gone there before us, and walks with us on the way, whether we make good choices or not, whatever it is we are headed to. There is always hope.