GENESIS PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Monday, November 25, 2013

25 November 07 “A Newfound Friend” Luke 23:33-43

First, let’s find our bearings this cold, wet, and dreary morning. Today is Christ the King Sunday and I wear white, representing holiness and celebration. Appropriate as we dedicate our pledge cards for the 2014 budget. Oh yes, 2014 is just around the corner. Thursday is Thanksgiving, of course, and then Black Friday. Advent begins next Sunday and we are four and one half weeks away from Christmas.

I know, I know. In finding these bearings there may be a touch of apprehension, a nudge of anxiety, a morsel leading to full on pre-holiday panic. So, we come to church for a moment’s peace, a bit of good news to stem the tide as our lists of things to do creeps, or leaps, to page two. As getting ready smothers us with more than we can possibly do.

Then the gospel is read and our shoulders droop, our countenance slumps, our peace becomes panic. Jesus is crucified. This isn’t passion week! Jesus is crucified and we are consumed with getting ready for the holidays. Our getting ready has now taken on a hopelessness we had not expected. Perhaps we should set the white stole aside.

Or, could it be that is exactly the point? Could it be there is something more important than the holidays, something more important that we need to get ready for? Should we set the list of today’s priorities aside, just set it aside for a bit, and listen again to Luke? Because this just may be the most important time of the year for us.

Might this time be the threshold to preparing ourselves for both the obvious and the not so obvious, where we might grow, strengthen and explore the boundaries of the soul.

For the obvious, it is too late if we are not in a “get ready” mode. Do you know someone who is a seasoned midnight madness shopper? Jumped through Advent to Christmas and the tree is up, perhaps more than one. The stores still have turkeys for Thursday you know. Macy’s in New York has dusted the floats for their parade, and, yes, Santa will be there. The movie, “Miracle on 34th Street” proves that!

The painfulness of the obvious is, it is too late to turn back now and hope we catch up later. The costs are adding up. Not just financially, in other ways as well.

We obviously have much to lose if, as Suzanne Guthrie has written, we skip over our “season of longing, deep chance, and dark anticipation. Without Advent, without the soul’s journey in tandem with Mary and Joseph, will we even notice the Divine interrupting our ordinary life? How will we discern that gentle star rising upon the horizon obscured by premature holiday glitter? If we do not enter deeply into Advent, how shallow will our transformation journey be toward Galilee, Jerusalem, the cross, the empty tomb, Emmaus and “the ends of the earth”?

We either prepare for God’s grace, or, like the unprepared bridesmaids, we will have lamps, lives, empty of the essential fuel needed for our eternal truth, Jesus Christ.

Could this be our calm before the storm to take that hard necessary look and do an about face, preparing ourselves for life with Jesus in ways not so obvious. Could it be something is hidden. Could it be that woven into the fabric of the costs this time of the year generates with our efforts, physical and emotional, to please the world, God has provided a balance we have missed?

We worry about getting together, but we feel God’s grace when we do. We worry about old wounds being reopened, then we find again the love that has been lost by our separation. We worry about the house being clean, the food coming out right with enough for everyone, then we find our bodies full and our souls enriched.

Then, perhaps more importantly, and this creeps in at a deeper level each year, there is the cost to our hearts. We miss more folks who are not going to be here with us. We will never be ready or prepared for that truth. How can we?

Jesus is as prepared as any human can be for this time in his life, for the place and the gathering of people where he was crucified. But he too struggled with the possibilities of separation from loved ones, even crying out that God might spare him from this time. Yet, Jesus is obedient. He is forever praising God and praying God’s will be done. Hidden there in the presences of the cross is his faithfulness balanced with love.

In our story, it was a crowd of people who crucified Jesus. His crucifixion was not the act of any one person. There were many that day. They cast lots to divide his clothing, they stood by watching, doing nothing to prevent his suffering. They scoffed at him and mocked him.

Though loved by many, Jesus was about to die. He was about to be taken forever from them. We are never ready for the raw pain of that truth. How could we ever be?

But Jesus knew the way. He knew the way to prepare for ultimate and utter despair. It is a way that may not be so obvious. By first being faithful, then living every day with love in our actions, not for ourselves, but for others, we ground ourselves in the only way possible. For Jesus is that way, that truth, that life.

But the hardness cannot be avoided. In his final human act, his death, Jesus paid a great cost. He lost everything. His life, his family, his friends, his life’s calling. Lost, gone forever. His lesson is our lesson. We will lose it all too. We will lose the “I” that is “me.” And we are weak and afraid.

“One of the criminals who hung there kept deriding Jesus and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we have indeed been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

The other prayed, “Jesus, remember me.”

Holidays are filled with memories. Good and bad, joyous and sad, we remember them all. This time of the year draws those memories back from their slumber to rekindle and re-flame and stir us again. Jesus remembers them too.

He remembers the group of people, the “they” who persecuted him. He remembers his family and friends who were there that day. He even remembers the two criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Jesus remembers them all.

He remembers them all and he died for them all. And he prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they do now know what they are doing.” And miracle of all miracles, they were all forgiven. Every one of them, forgiven. How do we get ready for these amazing truths? How do we get ready for “Advent’s call to simplicity, poverty of spirit, and conversion”? We get ready by doing the one thing that will always save us from ourselves and our anxiety.

In humility and with honesty, we ask Jesus to remember us. We fall on our knees, we bare our soul and we pray, “Jesus, remember me. Though I am not worthy, remember me, and help me. Help me pledge my life to you and help me prepare my soul for your coming again into my life.”
When we ask Jesus to remember us we are assured time and time again, Jesus does remember us. And even more amazing, time and time again, Jesus loves us to forgiveness, each and every one of us, even when we do not know what we have done.
Isn’t it the truth? We do not have a clue what we are doing trying to live a relatively decent life. Trying to live faithfully what we believe God would have us do. Truly we are like those others Jesus prayed for, we do not know what we have done.
Yet, Jesus knows us, and Jesus forgives us. Again. Because Jesus remembers us. He remembers us from our being prepared in our mother’s womb to our first day on earth and until this very moment. He remembers us and he loves us warts and all.
So we do the best we can. Life will not wait for us. So, we plan for the holidays and for life. We make ready for today and tomorrow and the days to come.
In our faithful desire we carve out a moment to glorify God with what we say and do. We strengthen our soul forgiving those needing forgiveness. We push the boundaries of our soul, and emotion, remembering those needing remembering. We fill our spiritual hunger by loving those needing love.
We do these things in the fog of our existence knowing we are seen and remembered and reside in the arms of the powerful truth of who Jesus Christ is; our God.
“Jesus has no greater friend that the most desperate person who asks to be remembered, to be given one more chance at grace, at forgiveness and salvation. Jesus came into the world to save such a person, a person just like you and me.”
Perhaps Julian of Norwich said it best, God “did not say: You will not be troubled, you will not be belabored, and you will not be disquieted: but (God did say), you will not be overcome. God wants us to pay attention to these words, and always to be strong in faithful trust, in well-being and in woe, for God loves and delights in us, and so God wishes us to love God and delight in God and trust greatly in God, and (then) all will be well.”
He is our Jesus, and all is well. He is the one who replies to our plea for remembrance, “Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen 112413.gpc

Monday, November 18, 2013

17 November 13 “Newness”

  It is rare to find someone who has lived in the same place their entire life. Sure, there are those who hold on to the old place. We still own the land and small house my grandfather built before my dad was born. But often the best we can do is hold that place in our memories. Memories make it easier to go back, if just for a moment.

  Mostly we ramble and move about settling in wherever we find convenience or circumstance takes us. Even when it is not our “dream” place, we make due. We find comfort in our things, setting up house the way we do, making friends, figuring out the way to the store, and church of course. We settle in and make home, home.

 Jesus seems to flip those feelings on their head this morning. Forget about settling in; forget about being content with the familiar and comforting. No, Jesus quickly moves us away from feeling grounded in the familiar and comforting. His story creates, quite honestly, a new level of discomfort in our familiar and settled place when we admit to what Jesus is promising. No matter where our life finds us, our familiar comfort has a very short future.


 During Jesus’ time, the center of religious life in Jerusalem was around the temple. It was vast, it was beautiful, and it was a familiar and comforting space for all who came there. Quoting from Isaiah, Jesus reminded everyone the temple is first and foremost to be their house of worship. The temple was to be that bedrock place where his followers should never worry about what it was for and its place in their familiar and comforting life.

 As our reading shows, those with Jesus understood this teaching. Indeed, the Temple was their place to worship. They revered it as they admired its physical nature, its stature. They were impressed by how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God.

  But, Jesus warned them, as he warns us, about being too closely attached to physical space or adornments, be they in temples holy or secular. Jesus’ prophecy is that they will all end. He says, “As for these things that you see, the day will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”


 These first century folk understood about life and death, about how quickly the familiar can be taken away. Life for them was harsh. So, they did not argue with Jesus when he claimed that the world as they knew it would end. They accepted his teaching and asked the obvious question. When will it happen? How much longer do we have?


  Jesus’ answer was not so direct. He knew how vulnerable we can be to earthly influences and end-of-time predictions. Even in our time, we hear the prognosticators say “This is it, this is the end.” Thankfully, I suppose, we have always woken to worry another day. The truth is, the crisis in our lives have created a sense of doom about the future. All too often we have good reason to worry like we do.

  In a way, it may be easier to follow along with the doomsday prophets and their promise of a way out. If we will just listen to them, do what they say, turn our life over to them, and our money, we will be alright. They promise.

 But, Jesus warns us about short cuts. We are to beware, to not be lead astray by those who come into our lives and say, “I am the one.” I am the one with the truth about your life and future. I promise, I am the one, “The time is near.” So, come and follow me, for your time is running out.

 How often have we nodded in agreement when the futurists or political pundits predict a sure fired economic, or political, or personal end to life as we know it? Can we not count on the elections of the future to be like those of the past predicting doom and gloom if we do not vote a certain way?


 To be truthful, we are almost always disappointed with any attempts to correct the present or the future, aren’t we? Whether through our own efforts or those of others, we are left with some things that worked better and some things that were a bust. I suspect it is the unpredictable that catches us unaware. The time is near and our time is running out. We must surely do something or all heck will break loose.


 The theologian John Howard Yoder said the church needs to help people take a “minority perspective” about life. A majority perspective assumes that by power, wealth, organizing, or hard work we can get things to turn out the way we want. A minority perspective, on the other hand, never makes those assumptions.


 A minority perspective church seeks to embody and be witness to the way of Jesus, without embracing worldly powers, or wealth, or influence. A minority perspective church uses imagination and learns to survive over the long haul.


 Yoder says, “In Christendom, both optimism and despair are correlated with the direct reading of how it is going for us in the rising and falling of power structures.” But the minority perspective community learns to hope even when things seem to be going badly – “not only because we have heard promises from beyond the system, but also because we have learned that sometime our pessimistic reading for the present are shadowed too much by taking some setback too seriously.”

  There is a story about a visit a pastor had with a man as they sat on his patio looking out on a small lake surrounded by new and attractive town homes. The pastor commented about the beauty of the setting and asked the man how he had decided to move to this new place.

  He replied, “I didn’t. I was forced to move here. The highway department planned a highway that cut right through our farm, land that I inherited from my parents. Of course, he said, I never farmed the land. But I sure enjoyed living there. When he heard that the state was going to condemn the property, he was sick. He thought it was the end of everything. This land had been the only place he had lived his entire life.


 But then he and his wife moved by the lake. As he thought about it, he said, “Frankly, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. He and his wife loved it there.


 As he though a moment more, he said, “It is kind of sad that you have to be forced by the State Highway Department to do what you did not have the courage to do on your own. I thought they had just killed me. As it turns out, they gave me a whole new life.”

  Within this man’s new understanding we find the meaning of our gospel message from Luke. There is amazing grace and eternal hope for us when we have the courage to live with a new confidence about our endings and beginnings with God. We find the good news of the gospel this morning in the sure message that our God is a God alive in us and our lives. Our God is a God who brings life out of death, who creates new worlds out of old chaos, fear and trembling.


 In Luke’s truth, Jesus comforts us, “Do not be terrified, even though we will be thrust into this world where our worries may overwhelm us.” Not a hair on our head will perish. By our endurance we will gain our souls.

 A few years back I attended a symposium on the German theologian Karl Barth. One of the speakers reminded us that the word of God automatically places us in a state of crisis when we accept it. When we submit to God’s holy command, all heck breaks loose.


 It began when Jesus asked us repeatedly, “Do you love me?” Do you love me? Is it not the case that once we say yes our life is never the same, and there is no turning back. Do we love Jesus and are we prepared for the crisis that will come in our lives when we do?


 Jesus says, “As for these things that you see, the day will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

  “Do you love me?” Jesus asks. If so, create a crisis in your life and feed my sheep.


 The depth of our experience of God’s grace will mirror the depth of the experience of our sin, our pain, our suffering, even our cries to God for help. God responds to the depth of our despair with the power of God’s grace.


 Do you love me, Jesus asks? If so, create a crisis in your life, come and follow me.


 Jesus tells us, “You will be betrayed even by relatives and friends…you will be hated by all because of my name. But, not a hair on your head will perish.” Our God, as it turns out, will lead us to a new life.


 Do you love me, Jesus asks? With our answer, our halting, and trembling, yes, God calls us to be a servant to his son, Jesus Christ, our Messiah. A full time servant, living the full cost of receiving God’s grace as we join God’s prophetic work in the world. Bringing hope and health and calm in the midst of chaos and crisis. Bringing grace through Christ’s peace and our life as God’s servant. This, dear ones, is a new and frightening life!

 Each of us has been assured, temples will fall; there will be suffering and death. Yet, God will not fall. God will bring new beginnings, a new age to come. So, we let go of our familiar comfort and give a great sigh of relief. The State Highway department does not force the end of anything.

 But, loving Jesus does. Loving Jesus forces the end of everything. Yet, loving Jesus also brings about our final move and our new life. The beginning of everything that really matters to our life and to the world. The beginning of our prophetic hope, hope in our present and eternal life in the Kingdom of God, filled with God’s grace and God’s love.

   Loving Jesus brings us to God’s kingdom, where not a hair of our heads will perish. Where by Gods goodness and our endurance, we will gain our eternal souls, as we live in the power of our living God.


 Do you love him? I don’t know. But I do know he loves you terribly and with everything he has ever lived for, he prays you love him in return.
 

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen

Monday, November 11, 2013

03 November 13 “Jesus Saves” Luke 19:1-10

03 November 13                             “Jesus Saves”      Luke 19:1-10

In Flannery O’ Conner’s first novel, “Wise Blood,” Ms. O’ Conner presents a host of characters seeking salvation. Not once do they realize they have to first let go of themselves. Hazel Motes, a man with a woman’s first name and the hero of the story, is caught up in an unending struggle against his own innate desperate faith. Naming men Hazel is just one of the ways O’Conner insures tragic events in her novels.

 Hazel falls under the spell of a “blind” street preacher names Asa Hawks and his degenerate fifteen-year-old daughter, Lilly Sabbath. In an ironic, malicious gesture of his own non-faith, and to prove himself a greater cynic than Hawks, Hazel founds “The Church of God without Christ.” Even so, he is still side tracked in his efforts to lose God

 He meets Enoch Emery, a young man with “wise blood,” who leads him to a mummified holy child, and whose crazy maneuvers become an inseparable part of Hazel’s delusion filled human struggles.
 O’Conner and her characters portray life as a constant struggle with redemption, retribution, false prophets, blindness, blinding’s, and wisdom longed for and lost. To make her point, she parodies our human obsession with seemingly important things in our desire for redemption. As one example, she pokes fun at us about our obsession with cars. Well, some of us seem obsessed with cars. Early in the book, Hazel assures himself that, “Nobody with a good car needs to be justified.” He proudly proclaims this street truth while using the hood of his car as a pulpit for his “Church Without Christ” ministry. Salvation does not come easily to the street proud.

   O’Conner is dark and her characters are dark. She reveals the rawness of the human character while exploring how precarious our life is. So precarious, we stand on the edge of the abyss of our human conditions and cannot avoid its pull.

 From Luke, Zacchaeus’ story is also about the human pull to the abyss and our desperate attempts for salvation. Unlike O’Conner, he shows us the sure way from that abyss of despair to the firmness of hope and the changed life that avoids the all too common “Church Without Christ.”
 Zacchaeus’ story contains a simple, yet powerful truth. Our salvation comes in the life changing presence of Jesus Christ. Our salvation is not rooted in our life goals, our stuff, our station in life, how we present ourselves to the worldly powers, or our self-redemption efforts. No, our salvation, our justification is not in powers or principalities. It is in a person, Jesus of Nazareth.

 Zacchaeus’ only desire is to try to see who Jesus was.  But, the crowd stands in his way. So he ran ahead, climbed a sycamore tree. He was desperate to see him. But, Jesus sees Zacchaeus first. In that instant, with desire in his heart for Jesus, with Jesus looking his way, during that surprising moment of human connection, Zacchaeus is saved. He is pulled from his dark abyss. Jesus tells him, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house. I would have tried to rush home to at least tidy up.

 But, Zacchaeus never makes it home to straighten his life. He hurried down from his tree and was happy to just be with Jesus. He did not need to worry about worldly things. He was happy to simply, yet powerfully, welcome Jesus into his life as a friend,  and as a loved one.

 The most amazing news, Zacchaeus’ attempt to improve his human condition did not begin with Zacchaeus. It began with God. We may not realize God has been pursuing us all along. We may think we come to some place in our life and decide to follow Jesus. No, it began with God.
  It is first God’s desire that we be in relationship with God. It is Jesus’ seeking us with his gifts of grace and love that saves us. This is the good news God wants to share. Especially this All Saints morning as we remember loss and sadness.

 Our salvation comes in the loving, life changing presence of Jesus Christ. It is a presence that is with us in Jesus through the power of the Holy Spirit in our baptism. It is a presence that comes to us through the nourishing and forgiving bread and cup of this communion table.

 Yet, scripture challenges us with the notion that our salvation is not yet complete. We live in a life filled with the abyss of our human condition, sin and ultimately death. We live in a world where the powers of evil invade our lives without mercy. We realize, like ourselves, Zacchaeus had not been a model citizen. Too often he had yielded to the temptations of his position. All that changes when he realizes Jesus has always been in his heart.
 The truth is, when Jesus fills our hearts with his grace and love we are forever changed.  We become more Christ like, I believe.

 Zacchaeus does more than promise to stop his evil ways. He offers to correct his past wrongs and he offers to live differently in the future. He tells Jesus how he intends to change his life.

 Notice that Zacchaeus initiates this response. He is seen by Jesus, but Jesus does not tell him what to do. Zacchaeus has a free will. But, having a free will does not give us the freedom to do whatever we want to do. No, we have a free will so we will do what is right.

 By searching our hearts, we know what to do with our life. By listening to our inner voice, we correct past wrongs. By following Christ’s voice, we  live our lives peacefully and purposefully in service to God and one another.

     There are many ways we can live this new way. Jesus modeled them for us.  One way is to see our relationship with the poor and outcast in society differently. Searching our hearts, hearts filled with God’s love and grace, it is possible for us to see all people in a new way, in a new relationship as sisters and brothers with Christ.

 Another way is to see our relationship with our family differently. Listening to the inner voice of God we recognize our family and friends as God’s chosen who are just as forgiven, just as loved, and just as needy, and nurtured as we are ourselves.

 Another  way is to see our relationship with the peoples of the world differently. Be they from another country, or culture, or religion, or point of view. Following Christ’s voice, we hear the common voice of humanity. Brothers and sisters of the same loving God, be they Democrat, Republican, Tea Party, Muslim, Jew, Gay, or straight.
 Truthfully, our seeking God may begin with a longing that is like no other. It may begin with an experience that opens our eyes in ways we had never seen before. It may begin with our surprising surrender that creates an even more surprising connection  between ourselves and God.
I recently read of such a connection with a young man named Ben Breedlove.  The article began, “Ben died three times in December 2011. The last time, on Christmas day, he did not wake up.” Ben was an 18 year old senior at Westlake High School  with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. The condition causes the heart muscle to thicken. When Ben was 4 he had a seizure. He had recently asked his mom, “How do we know if we get to go to heaven?” His mother says, “Right there in the car, Ben prayed telling God he wanted to go to heaven one day.” Ben did not die during the seizure, but it was the first time he saw a white light above him that no one else could see. He said he knew it was an angel.
 On December 6, 2011 Ben fainted at school, and his heart stopped. That is when Ben says he went to the waiting room of heaven. He knew he was dying. He later wrote it was the same bright light he had seen when he was 4. “I couldn’t stop smiling,” he said, “I then looked at myself in the mirror. I was proud of myself, of my entire life, everything I had done. It was the best feeling.” He made a video about the experience and said “I wish I never woke up.”
 Ben later talked about his experience with his sister, Ally. He said he wanted to go back to that peaceful place. He told her he thought God let him see the white room so he would not be afraid of dying. “And so I would know that heaven is worth it.”
 Ben died again December 17, but a bystander did CPR and Ben revived.  After this visit to heaven Ben prayed: “God, I pray that my family wouldn’t be sad or scared for me anymore, because I’m not sad or scared. I pray that they would have the same peace I have. And I’m okay with whatever God decides.”
 Christmas day around 4:45 p.m. Ben collapsed for the final time. The dark abyss of his human condition had become his hoped for bright abyss of heaven.
 How often in scripture do we read of Jesus telling us to surrender our lives to him? We surrender it to something, why not to him? How often are we told to leave everything in this life and come and follow Jesus to be his disciple where we will know his grace and his promise of eternal salvation? Often enough to realize his way is the true way to love more deeply, give more freely, and be grace filled with a life of unending joy. Unending joy, even when hearing about Ben and remembering our dear ones this day of remembrance.
 Like Zacchaeus, and Ben, and those faithful servants now gone, we seek a peace that is greater than this world knows. A peace where hating and hurting will no longer be. Zacchaeus sought his peace by climbing a tree, we seek ours with the mind and emotion numbing clutter of our lives. We are all seeking something greater than what the pains justify in our lives.
 Then Jesus shows up. Casually walking in our direction with eyes locked on us. He sees us, the one he has always desired, he reaches out to us, calls our name and brings us out of our tree. He comes up that tree wherever  the height or depth of our lost-ness has taken us, to save us.
  For Jesus climbed onto his own final tree, the cross. He sought us there, to speak our name to God, so we will forever be loved, forgiven and saved.
 We are to no longer be sad or scared for we have been found in a peace, a white light, a brightened abyss, where we will not stop smiling, where we will be proud of our lives.
 That peace is Jesus Christ and with him we move beyond the questions of this world and into a life greater than our own, that of the Kingdom of God. Living always to the will and glory of God.
 The poet and author Christian Wiman explains it this way:
“My God my bright abyss
into which all my longing will not go
once more I come to the edge of all I know
and I believing nothing believe in this.”

My God, my bright abyss.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen


110313.gpc