From Generation to Generation: We Tell This Story

Christmas Eve             Luke 2  

What are some of your very favorite Christmas stories? 

Ooooo, I like that one too.

These are the stories we tell and listen to and watch for every year alongside the story of Jesus because they tell us something about what we’re longing for in our lives.

The gifts and feelings that we’re hoping will be a part of this night.

 

One of my favorites is the story—The Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, and specifically, I love the Muppets version. I love seeing Scrooge’s transformation from a selfish, lonely miser to someone who finally cares for those who have been loving to him all along. I love how Charles Dickens cared about so many people who were having a very hard Christmas—because of failed systems, because of unfair gaps between rich and poor, because of cold and greed and lack of care.

 

Jesus came into our world exactly for the people who most need the world to be transformed. In a New York Times article last year called “Christmas is Weird,” Esau McCaulley tells a story from his Alabama childhood about receiving an amazing gift and how this Christmas story is exactly for everyone who feels left out of the usual Christmas stories of comfort and joy. Esau hopes that we will care about this:

This Christmas, many boys and girls will wake up in very difficult circumstances. Their basic prayers for food, rescue, safety or a particular toy will go unanswered. Many of my most urgent and desperate [prayers] during childhood went unanswered for years on end. Why God answers some prayers with miracles and not others is a question [people] have pondered for centuries.
But Christmas… has never promised to soothe every pain or cure every ill. Unfortunately, life with God doesn’t work that way. Instead, Christmas is the grand miracle that makes space for all the smaller miracles. It gives us enough hope to walk a little farther in the dark toward the glimmer of something that seems too distant to reach.
Christmas is, in the words of the Gospel of John, the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The path to that light has taken many forms…
these odd incidents led us directly into the presence of a child who filled our hearts with wonder…
Christmas suggests that God has not forgotten anyone. [God] came as a child, weak and vulnerable, unable to lift his head without assistance or to wipe his own bottom. [God] did this so the weak and broken things might feel comfortable approaching the divine.[1] 

These are the stories we tell and listen to and watch for every year alongside the story of Jesus because they tell us something about what we’re longing for in our lives. We’re longing for people to be kinder to one another. We’re longing for good gatherings with people we love. We’re longing for people to reconcile and for peace to spread throughout the world. We’re longing to see evidence of love coming alive.

 

But remember this, if you are feeling weak and vulnerable and broken this Christmas… the story is so much for you—the story of having no place to go but finding a place, the story of being welcomed from the outside to the warm inside, the story of traveling from a distance to see a miracle.

 

Remember tonight that God comes to meet you, not in how things should be, but meets you exactly where you are—and in the grand miracle of Jesus birth, God makes space for all the smaller miracles.

 

Watch for them… and may each one give you hope to walk a little farther in the dark toward the glimmer. Tell the stories… because the path to God’s light has taken many forms. 

Embrace the odd… because our own odd stories lead us directly into the presence of Jesus who fills hearts with wonder.

 

Thank you for coming and sharing and listening this Christmas Eve—and when you go to whatever’s next tonight, may you leave with comfort and hope, love and wonder, peace and joy.

---

[1] Christmas is Weird by Esau McCaulley

   https://www.nytimes.com/2021/12/23/opinion/christmas-is-weird.html

 

From Generation to Generation: We See God in Each Other

Image from A Sanctified Art

Advent 4 – Luke 1

It is not often that we get a full fourth week of Advent. Next year, we’ll light the fourth blue candle on Sunday morning and by Sunday afternoon it will be Christmas Eve. But this year, we have a full week until Christmas Day, a full week to savor this theme… from Generation to Generation, we see God in each other. 

I love the poem that Rev. Sarah Speed shares in the daily devotion for today called Where I Saw God Last[1]… and then she describes person after person from her city life—teenagers who cannot control their laughter, the saxophone player at 42^nd street, the woman at the end of the block with her yappy dogs and her books in the window, the abuelita, the Perisan man at the grocery who tells me to be safe when I leave…

If we were going to write our own poem of all the God sightings in the last couple of days, I wonder who you’d name? Take a moment and picture who’ve you met who has been a God-in-flesh or maybe God-in-disguise. Just before the funeral on Friday, Thaly Cavanaugh showed up and my heart leapt with gratitude even before she spoke and let me know how to correctly pronounce Bos Klan’s name. We’ve been saying Bos for years… but it’s Bos (bo). It happened again when I looked up and saw members of Christ showing up for Bos’ family and when her grandson shared his memories and gratitude. We are well-trained to see God in creation, like the incredibly beautiful snowy branches heavy with 30 degree snow all week, but this week, we’re invited to watch for all the sightings of God that we’ll encounter this week in the people we encounter in daily life.

 

Dr. Christine Hong, who writes tomorrow’s devotion, shares the story of her parents being Korean immigrants. Her mother said that whoever met you at the airport decided your destiny. In other words, however greets you at the threshold as you become a new immigrant determines the direction your life moves.

 

She makes this connection—“Elizabeth greets Mary on the threshold, not only of her door but the threshold of something new in Mary’s life and for the world. Mary is met by her cousin who greets her with welcome, anticipation, and a powerful blessing.”

Whatever fears these two women had about the births to come, they were met by the courage of the other. The courage of a young woman who braved travel in perilous times, the courage of a woman giving birth when giving birth is dangerous. “They were one another’s spiritual midwives”—singing transformation into being, grounded in each other’s courage and steadfastness. “They wondered together in liminal space, on the threshold of a new world. And through their spiritual and relational partnership, Mary and Elizabeth framed the path of partnership for their children too.”[2]Beautiful.

 

Next week, we’ll hear the Christmas story from Luke 2, told in the context of Joseph and Mary traveling to Bethlehem for the census of the Roman empire. There were two main motivations for requiring a census: to count the number of able-bodied men who could be drafted for war, and to determine the number of taxpayers in every location. In other words, the census was designed to consolidate the empire’s military strength and economic power. In contrast, Mary and Elizabeth sing about dethroning the powerful and lifting up the lowly. Her song is a song that both comforts and unsettles, just depending on our perspective. Just depending on what we are most concerned about needing to protect.

 

The song of these women has been used by liberation theologians in various times and places as part of their resistance to oppressive regimes—in the 1970s in Argentina, the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo used Mary’s words to publicly protest the disappearance of their children and the song was sung throughout Latin American in the 1970s and 80s. Before that, in the context of resisting the Nazi regime, German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer called the Magnificat, “the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary hymn ever sung.” Throughout the generations, Mary’s words have become a rallying cry for those deemed “lowly” or “outcast.” How can we honor the revolutionary power of her words?

 

Next month on the second Saturday, the Books & Brunch group will talk about Cole Arthur Riley’s book This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation and the Stories That Make Us. Arthur Riley writes this in a chapter called Belonging, “We need other people to see our own faces—to bear witness to their beauty and truth. God has made it so that I can never truly know myself apart from another person… I want someone to bear witness to my face, that we could behold the image of God in one another and believe it on one another’s behalf.”[3]

 

For so many of us, it is life-changing, revolutionary for someone to truly see us. It is life-changing, revolutionary to belong to a community where we are looking for God together, looking to experience God’s presence in one another. And this is what Mary invites us into today, in the presence of her dear cousin, to see God in each other—and to prepare to be what she became so long-ago, a God-bearer in a world that so needs each of us to show and share and see God.

 

In a few moments we’ll speak together these words—

We know that this life of connection is easier said that done, which is why we gather in this space, week after week, generation after generation, to be reminded: We see God in each other. 

We’ll say, “Plant this story of love so deep in our bones that we cannot help but share it from generation to generation.” 

And we’ll say, “No matter where we go, no matter what we say, no matter what we do, we belong to God. We are held. We are loved. We are forgiven.”

 

Let us take all this into this fourth week of Advent— a full week to savor this theme… from Generation to Generation, we see God in each other.

---

[1] Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed, Where I Saw God Last, From Generation to Generation: An Advent Devotional, p. 31

[2] Dr. Christine J. Hong, From Generation to Generation: An Advent Devotional, p. 32

[3] Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation and the Stories That Make Us, p. 81

From Generation to Generation—we can choose a better way

 Joseph changed his plans. 

His original plans began out of a place of fear. 

In his restless sleep, he began to dream and in that dream, an angel visited. 

The angel began with telling Joseph what angel visitors and messengers of God always say,
“Do not be afraid.”

Don’t think that Mary betrayed you. Don’t be afraid of what the community might think. This one who is going to be born will be Jesus—which means God saves.

God is with us.

 

Image from A Sanctified Art

Advent 3: Isaiah 35 and Matthew 1   

Our theme today written by the creative team at Sanctified Art says this, “When Joseph awakes, he once again has the courage to choose a better way. He chooses to stay with Mary, to become an adoptive parent. Like Mary, he chooses to say, “yes.”

 

When have our ancestors also chosen a better way?

 

On Friday, I was called to the home of Bos Klan who died after two years of health challenges. As I sat with “Lot,” Bos’ daughter and Lot’s siblings, they shared about their journey in the 1980s with their mother from Cambodia. Bos was originally from Thailand but had moved to Cambodia with her husband. As war broke out, their family tried to escape and during the escape, a bomb exploded near them. Bos lost her husband immediately and her teenage daughter was seriously injured. “Lot” was just 7 years old as she lost her father and her big sister. Their family went to a refugee camp where her mother had to be incredibly brave in the face of many fears and an unknown future. Still today, this history is so painful and brings fresh tears of grief. Bos, mother of 8 and grandmother of 14 and great-grandmother of 14 was so strong. She came to this country as a widow. She raised her children and cared for grandchildren and great-grandchildren living in poverty, without the benefit of a car. She took them on the bus, cooked food over the fireplace, and sniffed them (her way of kissing). She made the earth bloom with her gardening skills. She learned English, passed her permit test and the citizenship test. She shaped four generations through her faith and courage, as she made Saint Paul, Minnesota her home for near 40 years. Lot repeated many times how her mother read her Bible often and went through the house singing Amazing Grace… both in English and in Khmer (ka-mai). In her last weeks, she was speaking in all three languages, calling out for the relatives who went before her into death. Her death is bittersweet for her closest loved ones as they do not want to lose her but rejoice that at last, all her sorrow and sighing flee away. She is at peace.

 

Like Joseph, Bos had to rearrange her whole life because of life’s circumstances… some of which no one would ever choose. Yet, like Joseph, Bos found courage and listened for God’s loving voice of grace and she has a whole family tree who have grown and flourished from her nurturing presence.

 

Today, our children are sharing the main message—a message of preparing to welcome very special guests with whatever we have to share. May we let them show us how to welcome, how to anticipate, how to take joy in this present as it unfolds. May God fill us with courage like Mary, like Joseph, who said “yes” and became bearers of God’s deep love and amazing grace.

From Generation to Generation…there’s room for every story

Isaiah 2:1-5 and Matthew 1:1-17

This was the weekend that I put away decorations that I had up for the month of November—turkeys made of handprints, pumpkins crocheted by previous generations, a wooden toy my grandfather made with pecking chickens… and it’s the weekend when I began to up the decorations of Advent and Christmas. Peace doves and lanterns, the stable my Dad made by hand when his hands were skilled and able, tree-filled winter scenes and new colored lights and stockings made long ago. Taking down and putting up decorations this week and practicing Advent in the weeks to come is something that is not just an act of the present time. The activity connects me to generations of my ancestors, it’s something I’m passing to my children, and it’s where the writers of this Sanctified Art liturgy we’re sharing this season invite us to begin—by contemplating ancestors. 

This is why we read the genealogy of Jesus. It was not just a boring list of names, it was a remembering list—a list of so many stories woven together. Stories of trauma, triumph, hardships and beauty. Stories of outsiders who become central, stories of adoption being even more powerful than bloodlines, stories of complex relationships that all lead to Christ’s story. Some evil kings were left out of Matthew’s list and many of the matriarchs’ names were left out, but five of the matriarchs were named. 

 

In case you’re not familiar with these ancient ancestors of Jesus, I’ll briefly share a glimpse of the stories of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba.

 

Tamar[1] suffers the death of her husbands and is blamed for their death by her father-in-law. She is in danger of losing all rights and resources but through being incredibly creative and assertive, she gives birth to twins with Judah who ends up saying about her, “ zadekah mimmeni-- often translated “she is more in the right than I” (Gen 38:26), a recognition not only of her innocence, but also of his unfairness to her.

 

In spite of being a foreign wife, she is incredibly loyal to Judah’s family, a quality that we see later in another part of this family tree—as Naomi and Ruth lose all the men in their family but Ruth, another foreigner, stays with Naomi and gives her descendants.

Tamar’s (and Ruth’s) traits of assertiveness in action, willingness to be unconventional, and deep loyalty to family are remembered from generation to generation. 

 

Circling back to Rahab, she is Canaanite as the Israelites are invading Canaan. Rahab receives and then hides spies from Israel from her own king. She bargains with the Israelites to save her family as they invade and prophetically says that they will win. She gives her loyalty to God’s people and makes them her new community.

 

Finally, the wife of Uriah, Bathsheba, is an Ammonite woman. Her husband fights loyally for King David but David has him killed in order to cover up his own selfish actions. Later, when Bathsheba is David’s wife, she has a key role in making their son, Solomon, king. 

 

These four foreign grandmothers are included as named ancestors along the way of the 42 generations—women who like Mary, the mother of Jesus, were vulnerable to unfair judgement but chose instead to be assertive, unconventional, persuasive, faithful. In the short-term, things looked bleak for them but in the long arch of the story, they are remembered for their perseverance, creativity and intelligence. They are honored. They are named.

 

Dr. Christine J. Hong writes, “Just as Christ’s genealogy reveals the relationships across time and space in his life, many of our names also tie us to the generations who come before us and those who will come after us. Matthew lists the names of Jesus’ forebears as a marker of hope finally realized. Even today, names are the seeded hope of one generation planted in another. They are the thread that connects our histories, stories and futures. We are the hopes of those who’ve come before, and we live in hope for those who will come after us.”

 

Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity, from the Sanctified Art creative team, writes that as they were developing this theme, she learned about The Seventh Generation Principle, “a philosophy of the Iroquois that emphasizes how seven generations after us will be affected by our current actions and decisions. This invites us to cultivate a sacred imagination for what will come, considering what will sustain and benefit the generations who come after us… our world is continually shaped and re-shaped by our collective actions.”

 

This is very similar to what is said by God within the giving of the 10 best ways, sometimes also known as the 10 commandments. When God is asking for people to live in a new way, God describes these consequences of actions—“that children suffer for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but that God shows love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.” (Deuteronomy 5) 

It doesn’t even compare—how influential loving God and neighbor can be—how much exponentially more God wants to love and bless than to punish.

 

“Like a tapestry woven throughout time, this story weaves us in…”

We are invited in… to practice love and faith, courage and community, not only for ourselves but for seven… or a thousand generations. 

 

The work of God is always unfolding—in and through real people. The work of God goes on in real people as complex as the 42 generations named from Abraham to David to Jesus, as the real people gathered here. Our lives, histories, actions, and stories are interconnected and woven together and still unfolding in Christ. In God’s holy imagination, there’s room for every story.

So as we begin this Advent, may we remember that we belong—to an ongoing story, to generations that have come before and will come after, to a love that will never end.

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[1] For the full, complicated stories of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba read here: https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/tamar-bible

Love for All the Saints (& Sinners)

Ephesians 1: 11-23 and Luke 6

 “Our sense of disconnection is only an illusion. Nothing human can stop the flow of divine love; we cannot undo the eternal pattern even by our worst sin.”

- Richard Rohr

This week, we moved through Halloween, All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. This week, I have been thinking especially of those who have lost beloved ones since this time last year.

And I am thinking of those who have carried grief for a long time.

I am grateful that the calendar provides these days to do what so many of us do throughout the year—to remember beloved ones who are no longer here but who somehow are with us still.

Also, Pastor Collette Broady Grund writes insightfully about the complicated grief that comes with loving people who have hurt us. Given that people are both sinners and saints—all of us—and the ways that our memories carry that whole complicated mix. Pastor Collette writes:

It seems appropriate then that All Saints follows so closely on the heels of Reformation Day in my Lutheran tradition, for one of the hallmarks of Lutheranism is paradox. “Simul iustis et peccatur” Luther said, which is just Latin for Saint and Sinner at the same time. 

Those two realities are equally true, even though they seem opposite, and our traditional All Saints’ celebrations don’t make much space for the sinner parts of our memories. Neither do our funeral rituals, or the way we generally sanctify those who have died and only talk publicly about their good qualities. “You should never speak ill of the dead,” right?! 

Wrong. Not that we speak ill of the saints who have surrounded and supported us, but we simply speak honestly, reminding ourselves that no one of us is wholly a saint. Just as no one of us is wholly a sinner. We are all both, and God through Jesus makes space for that, even if [others do] not.

In these sacred days, as we grieve those who hurt us or made life difficult in ways that we continue to carry, may we know how God the healer continues today to do God’s transformational work. God continues to bless those who are poor, who are hungry, who weep & mourn, who experience hate.

God continues to transform our difficult times into ones filled with laughter and feasting, and we can know that what lies ahead are days of rejoicing together and leaping for joy.

 

In these days, as we grieve and celebrate our beloved dead, may we know how they endure with us, holding our hearts and encompassing us with a fierce and stubborn love that persists across time and distance. May that love help light our way in the life that is continuing to unfold for us.                                                                - Words from Jan Richardson

“We live in a world saturated with the love and intentionality of an ever-present God, and we are not alone.”                                             - Words adapted from Barbara Holmes, “God in Thin Places,” 

CONSPIRE 2021 (Albuquerque, NM: Center for Action and Contemplation, 2021),

ENDURING BLESSING
—Jan Richardson from her book, The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief

 

What I really want to tell you

is to just lay this blessing

on your forehead,

on your heart;

let it rest

in the palm of your hand,

because there is hardly anything

this blessing could say,

any word it could offer

to fill the hollow.

Let this blessing

work its way

into you

with its lines

that hold nearly

unspeakable lament.

Let this blessing

settle into you

with its hope

more ancient

than knowing.

Hear how this blessing

has not come alone—

how it echoes with

the voices of those

who accompany you,

who attend you in every moment,

who continually whisper

this blessing to you.

Hear how they

do not cease

to walk with you,

even when the dark

is deepest.

Hear how they

encompass you always—

breathing this blessing to you,

bearing this blessing to you
still.

An Attitude of Gratitude

Reformation Sunday – Jeremiah 31 and Luke 19

Children’s Time – God is continually working to re-form us into people who know we belong to each other. 

“I will put my law (my torah) within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people… they shall all know me, from the least to the greatest… I will remember their sin no more.”

 

We walk around with stories inside us and we are constant storytellers.

The first books of the Bible, the Torah, are full of stories. Over and over, people try to communicate God’s deep love, God’s presence, God’s way through all kinds of diverse stories, but there are lots of other stories going on in our heads at the very same time.

I wonder what ours are?

 

What are the dominant stories running through our heads about these days?

This week, I was at a meeting where one of our members said several times that we are part of an aging congregation. It was said with that concerned tone of voice, and repeated several times as if I wasn’t taking in the gravity of the comment, and I couldn’t help but think two things at once.. and one thing later. I thought in response… well, I don’t know for sure but I can think of a significant number of young families and young adults who continue to participate regularly here and at least half of our Council leadership is in their 50s or younger. Do we see them? Do we allow them to be the leaders in our minds and in our midst?

And at the very same time, I thought of everyone who is 65+ in this congregation and I thought, yes, we’re aging… and aren’t we blessed to be aging because the alternative is being dead.

 

Maybe that sounds like a strong defensive reaction to this comment, but lately, I’m convinced that the stories we tell ourselves are incredibly powerful and they matter. Are we as we age going to dismiss the importance of the gifts that we bring? Are we going to fixate on what we have lost? I hope not. We live in a demographically aging city and state, so those who come to be a part of this ministry are likely to be retired/visibly aging. How do we keep centered in and give thanks for all the gifts that are present here even as we experience significant change and transition?

 

Reformation Sunday is a day to look backward in thanksgiving for how God has led and guided. It’s a day to notice God’s constant re-forming work on us in the present. It’s a day when we look to the future letting go of our fearful stories and remembering who goes with us into the future—who goes along with us each step into the unknown. And Jeremiah reassures us that we have a deep and good vision about where we’re headed. I don’t know how Jeremiah did this since he wrote these words from the depths of exile. He was left behind, but somehow he could express the truth that we’re headed into a future where we can expect to be in deeper relationship with a deeply loving God, where we’ll know God even better and no broken thinking or actions will be in the way of having a beautiful and good relationship. It will be joyful.

 

I did some reading on joy this week from the new encyclopedia on emotions by Brené Brown called Atlas of the Heart. Turns out, “joy” is the most vulnerable emotion and humans aren’t too comfortable generally with vulnerability and so we are quick to move into something called “Foreboding Joy.” Here’s what Brené writes about that… “If you’re afraid to lean into good news, wonderful moments, and joy—if you find yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop—you are not alone. It’s called “foreboding joy” and most of us experience it…

 

Foreboding joy is one of those practically universal experiences that everyone thinks of as something only they do… when we lose tolerance for vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding… We are terrified of being blindsided by pain, so we practice tragedy and trauma. But there’s a huge cost. 

When we push away joy, we squander the goodness that we need to build resilience, strength and courage.

The good news? In our research we found that everyone who showed a deep capacity for joy had one thing in common: They practiced gratitude. In the midst of joy, there’s often a quiver, a shudder of vulnerability. Rather than using that as a warning sign to practice imagining the worst-case scenario, the people who lean into joy use the quiver as a reminder to practice gratitude.                                    Brené Brown, Atlas of the Heart, p. 215

 

What a beautiful and powerful reminder.

 

And that leads me to Zacchaeus who wanted to get a look at Jesus. No one was making space for Zacchaeus to see. They had already labeled him as “not one of us” long ago. After all, he was a tax collector, becoming rich and you know what that means (--off the backs of the poor).

Who knows why he caught Jesus’ eye but maybe it was the sycamore or maybe it was something Jesus saw in him—after all, Zacchaeus’ name means “Pure in Heart.”

So Jesus says to Zacchaeus, “Come down because I’m going to be your guest.” And Zacchaeus was filled with joy to welcome Jesus.

 

Everyone else was not filled with joy.

They had long ago labeled Zacchaeus as a sinner and said as much to his face, and in front of all those critics, Zacchaeus said who he really was—pure in heart, generous to a fault. 

“If I have defrauded anyone of anything, I’ll pay back four times as much.”

You know, it makes you wonder if he had ever defrauded anyone of anything? But if he did, he was going to return it extravagantly.

 

And this moment of knowing that to Jesus, he belonged, was salvation for Zacchaeus. No longer considered an outcast, no longer lost, grounded in relationship with Jesus who saw him and centered him, Zacchaeus was saved.. and I would imagine, many others were saved too—through the sharing, through the joy of this story told for ages and ages.

 

There are two county commissioners who are also women of color in the state of Minnesota. Just two. They are Angela Conley and Irene Fernando who both serve districts of Hennepin County. They were two of the speakers in a five-person panel who spoke to rostered leaders of the Minneapolis and Saint Paul Area Synods this week, and here is what Commissioner Fernando said to us—this is a difficult, divisive political time but you, people of faith, you have such a bigger vision to draw on. You have deeper grounding as you go about your daily lives. You, of all people, who come together across differences for a deeper sense of the shared values we all bring, you have this gift and you need to use it. We are planted in a time and place, in daily lives, where we are with those who desperately need to see us living out whatever faith, hope and joy we can remember to share. We can absolutely practice gratitude, not only for our own sakes but for those of our neighbors. We have this capacity because it is written on our hearts, because Jesus visits our own homes and regularly reminds us, you belong. May it fill us with joy that no one can take away.

 

 

Bravely Moving Forward

Genesis 32: 22-31 and Luke 18: 1-8   

If you do not have a six-year-old in your household right now, you might not be familiar with the PBSKids program Xavier Riddle and the Secret Museum. In it, Xavier & friends time travel to meet real-life superheroes from history and the show caught my attention for a moment this week when Xavier & friends were visiting a child-version of Harriet Tubman. This was the part of the dialog that I overheard. The kids are meeting with Harriet as the sun sets and the moon rises--“But Harriet, if you are free, why did you come back??” 

Harriet answers--“Because there are so many people who are not free, so I come back to help them.”

“That sounds dangerous!”

“It is, but it’s the right thing to do. I’ve already saved my brothers. Today, it’s my parents.”

“Aren’t you scared?”
“Of course I am. Fear reminds us to look out for danger, but real courage is bravely moving forward, even when you’re scared.”[1]

Harriet Tubman, Helen Keller, Maria Tallchief, Ruby Bridges… these and so many more people have walked in the way of the widow from Jesus’ story. Put off, the widow kept coming. Asking for justice over and over again. She persisted.

And finally, this unjust judge gave her what she wanted, just to get rid of her.

 

But God is the opposite. God is listening. God quickly grants justice.

Even though we sometimes describe God as a “judge,” God’s righteousness and values are more like the widow’s way. God helps over and over. God restores, heals, brings goodness… and yet, Jesus asks, “And yet, when I come among you… will I find faith?”

 

It’s a weighty question.

When will justice come? Can we cling to faith even while we don’t yet see everything coming together into harmony? Are we willing to receive God’s gift of faith and nurture it and live immersed in it, even when things are scary and overwhelming?

 

Fear has its role—it “reminds us to look out for danger, but real courage is bravely moving forward, even when you’re scared.”

 

Today, you are all invited to participate in a conversation together that will help this congregation bravely move forward. Leaders cannot move a congregation without its buy-in and consent. The body of Christ cannot operate without all the parts of that body sharing from their gifts and perspectives. Today, your Council leaders are going to ask you to respond to questions in a really accessible way about our real feelings, values and ideas as a community. They are going to make it easy to participate, and we hope that many of you will participate. 

 

Many of you are aware that throughout this year, there have been many signs of vitality—Abundance Kitchen is buzzing with tenants on the weekdays, our church building received its historical designation, the Create Sabbatical Summer featured abundant care and hospitality at funerals, honored guest preachers, and hosted several meaningful family and neighbor events. More recently, Godly Play, Deep Dive Confirmation and Four12 Youth group began again; eight leaders attended an inspiring Vitality 101 training and we hosted another Marathon picnic—but at the very same time as all these good things are happening, the congregation is in a serious financial crisis. Yes, it’s true, the congregation has experienced deficits regularly for 70 years, so in one way, financial challenges are nothing new.

But in this third year of Covid, we are also clear that we are not immune from a whole cultural shift away from congregations. People have left and they are not coming back.

We are in a new time, and we who are in the room and joining in the livestream—we are the ones who remain to support this wonderful shared ministry.

 

There are at least two ways to address a financial crisis, and we are not always of one mind about the best way forward. One way to correct a financial crisis where expenses exceed income is to cut expenses. 

Your Council leaders are hearing questions like—do we need to move into a part-time pastor model of ministry, do we need to consider the sale of our building? They are very big questions that would fundamentally change ministry at Christ, and we cannot move forward without everyone giving their best sense of the values and vision that should guide the decisions that will need to be made over the next years.

 

Another obvious way to correct the problem is to increase income. This happens because we look around and say, “We are not going to allow this building that has such a unique and valuable location to crumble away.” “We value the ministry that we do and that our pastor leads and serves faithfully.” “We are grateful for our talented staff who bring in contributing partners, produce communications, provide beautiful music.” And we ask ourselves, am I giving my very best gift? Am I invested in the present and future of Christ on Capitol Hill? Am I giving the gift that is going to lift up and support all that is becoming new in this place? As you are able to give from what God has given you, your investment here will change your life.

Jesus so beautifully puts it this way, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

I’m putting all this information in front of you because we need you in on the conversation today. Also, you’ll be receiving an invitation in the coming weeks from Christ’s Stewardship team to consider your intended giving for 2023, but honestly, we ought not wait until 2023.
If we believe that Christ on Capitol Hill is still a vital ministry that God wants to exist, it’s time to be like Jacob, to look to God and wrestle a blessing that will invigorate our shared life. If we think there is a reason (or maybe many reasons) why Christ on Capitol Hill is here for good in this time and place, it’s time to pray for guidance to God, the persistent widow who keeps asking for justice for the most vulnerable ones that this ministry supports. I have faith that God is by no means done with this congregation. Even if we might feel lost in grief, even if we limp, God is ready to help. God is ready to open us to new possibilities. As we look back on the history of Christ Lutheran, we can see so much evidence of how our forebears persisted when things were tough, and even now, “real courage is bravely moving forward, even [if we’re]  scared.”[2]

May God grant us this kind of courage. May God give us persistent faith. And God help us as we gracefully let go of who we used to be… and invest in this time when God is making us new.

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[1] https://pbskids.org/xavier/videos

[2] https://pbskids.org/xavier/videos

Love & Rage, Seeds & Singing

 O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you "Violence!" and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. [Your Torah—your Word, your Way—is failing] and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous— therefore judgment comes forth perverted.  – Hab 1: 2-4

We listen in this week as Habakkuk cries out to God in rage at the way people around him are suffering.
It’s love for people that drives his rage. God, how can you let people suffer like this? It’s like we’re just fish, swept up in a net and they’re eating us for lunch! Habakkuk is angry at all these violations of his values and even goes so far as to call God a failure. And then, God responds. God reassures that although everything is hard right now, and will even get harder, everything will end well. This is the vision. God’s reign and reality might not be arriving as quickly as people would like…. But watch for it, wait for it. The end will be good, worth waiting for… it's a vision to make very clear to everyone, even those running quickly by. Habakkuk decides to do just that—hold on to trust a little while longer.
The prophet sings this song at the end of this very short booklet.

 

When I heard this message^, 

I felt weak from fear,
    and my lips quivered.
My bones seemed to melt,
    and I stumbled around.
But I will patiently wait.
Someday those vicious enemies
    will be struck by disaster.

¹⁷ Fig trees may no longer bloom,
    or vineyards produce grapes;
olive trees may be fruitless,
    and harvest time a failure;
sheep pens may be empty,
    and cattle stalls vacant—
¹⁸ but I will still celebrate
because the Lord God
    is my Savior.
¹⁹ The Lord gives me strength.
He makes my feet as sure
    as those of a deer,
and he helps me stand
    on the mountains.

It’s a vision for all the weary ones, as we run step after step in this marathon of life, and this vision is to NOT GIVE UP in God’s never-ending love, to keep faith. Although the arc of the universe seems incredibly long, we can trust God that it bends toward mercy for all those pressed down.
Oppression will cease!

In the late night on Fridays, I have been watching the series Rings of Power, an epic drama is set thousands of years before the events of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. It takes viewers back to an era in which great powers were forged, kingdoms rose to glory and fell to ruin, unlikely heroes were tested, hope hung by the finest of threads. Beginning in a time of relative peace, the series follows an ensemble cast of characters, both familiar and new, as they confront the long-feared re-emergence of evil to Middle-earth. It’s hard to wait as the story slowly unfolds, but we have no choice but to wait for the next bit of story.

 

In last week’s episode, things looked just as bleak as the situation Habakkuk describes. A tiny remnant of people are trapped in a tower and enemies are close. The remnant is almost ready to give in to despair. One voice reminds them that it is worth staying together to the very end.

In another scene, humble small creatures called Harfoots are on a terribly dangerous journey and a young girl, Poppy, sings to help them along their way. It’s a song very similar to the song of trust at the end of Habakkuk.

 

Poppy sings about this trip, where they trade all they’ve known for the unknown ahead.

Of drink I have little

And food I have less

My strength tells me no

But the path demands yes

My legs are so short and the way is so long

I’ve no rest nor comfort

No comfort but song

 

Sing to me sing to me lands far away
Oh rise up and guide me this wandering day
Please promise to find me this wandering day

At last comes their answer
Through cold and through frost
That not all who wonder or wander are lost
No matter the sorrow
No matter the cost
That not all who wonder or wander are lost[1]

 

A team of leaders from Christ gathered yesterday in a Synod-led workshop called Vitality 101. We gathered on behalf of this congregation and with the hope to bring the learning to you all.
Why are you here, the Synod leaders asked and each of us responded.
I said, “Well… in spite of the fact that there are many signs of vitality at Christ on Capitol Hill, in this third year of the pandemic, we’re experiencing a serious financial crisis. Also, many people have used the pandemic as a reason to say goodbye. We miss them. We feel the loss.” Those gathered from other congregations shared that they are worried too about people who have left and what the future will bring. With Habakkuk, we cried out to God. It seems like everything is failing! Together over the next six hours, though, we remembered. We are not alone. We were able to name some of the many things that are hopeful and encouraging about ministry in this place and time. We also practiced answering the Five Whys—going deeper and deeper into the question, “Why is Christ on Capitol Hill here?” What are the values that we’re aspiring to live out here? How do we listen even more deeply because each of you is here for a reason. We want all of you to be part of this vision conversation in two weeks. 

 

The prophet Habakkuk chose faith in spite of the present challenging circumstances and we can, too.
So often, like the original followers of Jesus, we doubt we can do it. We feel like we need way more than what is already here. Jesus invites us today to remember the vision of the tiny seeds already here, already rooted, already growing. If you can’t see reason for hope quite yet… wait for it. Christ is truly present and is on the way. Like brave Habakkuk, you can place your trust in God and be part of the vision that is still coming into being. It’s so true… not all who wonder or wander are lost… and we can keep singing the vision into being all along the way.

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[1] Howard Shore and Bear Mccreary composed the song This Wandering Day for the series Rings of Power together.

God’s Boundless Love… Unfolding

Luke 15: 1-10

Lost.

Maybe some of you have read or seen in movie form the story A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. If you haven’t seen it, the story begins with a young girl, Meg, talking with her science-loving, brilliant, inventing Dad telling her about his latest invention but also about love. “Love is always there. Even if you don’t feel it, it’s always there for you.” It’s almost like he’s saying goodbye.

 

Then, the scene changes. It’s four years later and Meg is now a young teenager. Her father has been missing for 4 years. Whatever he was on the brink of discovering in his research on time and space travel, he has been gone and they’ve heard nothing for 4 years.

 

But Meg’s mother reminds her daily of her father’s lesson, unfolding a paper octahedron that, when unfolded, shows a heart in its middle.

“This is our love,” her mom reminds her.

“It's...it's not gone. It's just...it's just getting enfolded.”

 

We know what it’s like to feel lost. Whether we’ve been lost or we’re worrying about our loved ones, we know that feeling and how hard it is to remember in the tough times, love is never lost.

 

We know what it’s like to feel lost. We’ve been like that sheep wandering off the edges.

Or we’ve been part of the 99, anxiously wondering where in the world the Good Shepherd has gone and when this One who has taken care of us so well will be back.

 

We know what it’s like to be lost.

But maybe what is much harder to grasp, to remember deep in our bodies, is how it feels to be found. 

 

Thanks to the gift of time granted by this congregation and the Lilly grant that funded a whole summer of renewal… I was able to take a Sabbatical this summer. The grant we received funded  Christ’s needs—Sabbatical pastor, guest preachers and activities of the summer--and it funded learning opportunities, rest and travels for me and my family. I was able to take two weaving classes this summer and had moments of awakening to the importance of open space and gaps as my classmates and I created fabric that didn’t exist before we started working on it.

 

I worked my way through an artist’s training book called The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron. This book has been on my shelf for 20+ years but honestly, I hadn’t even thought of it until I was doing a 6-week online cohort in preparation for Sabbatical. That guidebook was mentioned and I thought, “Huh, I have that book. It’s a 12-week process. I have 13 weeks… I could do that.” And it helped me explore the very real factors around and inside me that block and stifle my ability to listen to God, the Creator, and to create as a faithful response to who God has made and continues to call me to be.

 

During Sabbatical, I made things. I wrote, painted, wove, took photos. I watched for God. I cleaned and swept and purged and packed. I practiced flow. Finally, I could write again.

 

I searched and searched for what has been lost… and to see what could be found.

 

In her moving book One Coin Found: How God’s Love Stretches to the Margins, a long meditation on this very gospel that we’ve read this morning, Emmy Kegler writes:

 

Whenever we are pushed to the edges, our voices silenced, or our stories dismissed, God goes out after us--seeking us until we are found again. And God is seeking out those whose voices we too quickly silence and dismiss, too. Because God's story is a story of welcome and acceptance for everyone--no exceptions.

Kegler shows us that even when we feel like lost and dusty coins--rusted from others' indifference, misspent and misused--God picks up a broom and sweeps every corner of creation to find us.

 

God is creative, persistent. She is a Shepherd, yes, but she is also a broom-bearing God. She sweeps every corner of creation to find us.

 

Where have you been found this summer? Can you think of a moment where love was at the very center of you, the very center of whatever was unfolding?

We’ve done some milestones today in worship already… but we will have more time at the close of worship for you to share more moments when you have known, when you have noticed that you are deeply loved, that you are found, that God who sweeps every corner of creation to find you has done exactly that.

 

And in a spirit of gratitude for God’s boundless goodness, God’s never-ending love, let us pray.

 

O Great Creator, we are gathered together in your name that we may be of greater service to you and to [others]. We offer ourselves to you as instruments. We open ourselves to your creativity in our lives. We surrender to you our old ideas. We welcome your new and more expansive ideas. We trust that you will lead us. We trust that it is safe to follow you. We know you created us and that creativity is your nature and our own. We ask you to unfold our lives according to your plan, not our low self-worth. Help us to believe that it is not too late and that we are not too small or too flawed to be healed--by you and through each other--and made whole. Help us to love one another, to nurture each other's unfolding, to encourage each other's growth, and understand each other's fears. Help us to know that we are not alone, that we are loved and lovable. Help us to create as an act of worship to you.
                                                                                    -- An Artist’s Prayer by Julia Cameron