Lenten Discipline -- March 28

Lenten discipline of the day:

tell someone what you are grateful for.

Expressing gratitude is something most of us were taught to do as children ("Write your grandmother a thank you note!!  Say please and thank you!!"), but we so easily forget to do as adults.  When we are in a hurry, when we are distracted, when we are centered on ourselves and our worries, it is easy to overlook the people closest to us and the many ways they make our lives rich and full.  Yet we know how powerful a simple "thank you" can be because gratitude is something we crave for ourselves.  Receiving gratitude is how we know that we matter, and that we've made a difference.

I have a former boss who gave me a job in advertising when I was inexperienced young woman right out of school.  He trusted me with increasing responsibility and encouraged me even when I messed up badly. He was both a mentor and a friend, and as I look back on my life, I have realized I'd probably be a very different person if I had not met him.  A couple years ago, I had lunch with him and told him how much I appreciated the difference he made for me, and how formative he was in my life.  I realized that he had even played a role in my decision to enter ministry!  It was a conversation that mattered to both us.  

When Fred Rogers was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Emmy in 1997, he brought a Hollywood audience to tears by asking them to think about and remember the people who had "loved them into being."  Can you think of someone like that in your life?  When was the last time you simply said, "Thank you," to someone who has made all the difference to you?

Lenten Discipline -- March 27

Lenten discipline of the day:

adopt a prayer routine.

I discovered a long time ago that I am lousy at spontaneous prayer.  If I am to have a rich and meaningful prayer life, I have to plan for it and make time for it, just as I make time for other things I do routinely to keep myself healthy and well -- like showering, eating, exercising, etc.  So I begin each day with prayer, guided by Daily Prayer PC(USA) which provides brief services based on the Presbyterian Book of Common Worship, including psalms for the day, readings from the daily lectionary, and prayers of thanksgiving and intercession.  And I do it all using my iPhone -- yes, there's even an app for prayer!  http://www.pcusa.org/news/2012/10/31/daily-prayer-app-here/  

Paul exhorts for us to pray without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17), which is a worthy goal, but the first step, I think, is to just make time each day to devote to prayer, in whatever way feels authentic to you.  For me, I need the liturgical structure of the Daily Prayer, although I may pray at other times of the day in many other ways.  Some folks in my congregation appreciate a devotional book like Upper Room, Guideposts or These Days.  The key is to find a structure that works for you and stick with it.  

Another on-line resource for something similar to Daily Prayer comes from our Episcopalian brothers and sisters:  http://dailyoffice.org.

I apologize for lack of posting yesterday.  I have the flu and am just now beginning to come out of the fog of fever and nausea.  

Lenten Discipline -- March 25

Lenten discipline of the day:

allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to ask for help.

Whenever I talk to someone who spends a lot of time volunteering or has just come back from a mission trip or some other endeavor where they've helped people in need, they always say the exact same thing.  "I get more out of it than the people I helped."  Which is to say that helping other people gives most of us a very deep and good feeling.  Just watch a small child who is entrusted with their first small tasks around the house.  Children love to "help" their parents.  Human beings seem to have a deep-seated need to be needed.  We want to be useful and connected to other people!

Which is why I am always flummoxed by people who will not allow other people to help them. I am frustrated by those who will not admit that they need help.  Especially in the church.  Many of us have drunk the self-sufficiency cultural kool aid so deeply that we are wholly unwilling to allow any one to lend us a hand.  And if, God forbid, we have no option but to rely on someone else, we feel ashamed.  As if we're not good enough or tough enough.  I used to think this was a predominantly male trait, but I've seen it often enough in women to know that it affects everyone.  None of us want to be vulnerable.  We don't want to ask for anything from anyone.  We don't want to take the risk of appearing weak or needy.

I invite you to practice allowing yourself to be a blessing to someone else by allowing them to bless you by giving you a part of themselves.  Ask a co-worker for advice on a problem.  Ask your child (no matter their age) for assistance or for a hug.  Instead of driving yourself somewhere, ask for a ride. Let someone open the door for you.  If someone asks, "Can I help?" say, "Yes."  

Over the past few years, I've become a great fan of Brene Brown, a researcher who writes about issues such an the importance of vulnerability and how it leads to more whole-hearted and healthy living.  I think vulnerability is a key issue for the church because it's what we see so clearly in scripture -- a God who commits to the world, gives humanity free will, offers laws and guidance, begs people to treat each other well, gets angry when they don't, and continues to draw near to us to invite us into relationship with God restore our broken relationships with one another.  And God even took on the vulnerability of human flesh to draw near to us in the person Jesus Christ.

If you have never see the TED talks by Brene Brown, I invite you to take some time today (or whenever you can) to watch her first TED talk from 2010.  http://youtu.be/iCvmsMzlF7o

Lenten Discipline -- March 24

Lenten discipline of the day:

sing a prayer.

Santus from "REQUIEM" by Gabriel Faure

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus
Dominus Deus Saboth
Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua
Hosanna in excelsis
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini
Hosanna in excelsis.

(English):

Holy, holy, holy, Lord

God of hosts.

Heaven and earth are full of your glory.

Hosanna in the highest.

Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

Hosanna in the highest.

Lent 3A Sermon -- March 23, 2014

Is God With Us, Or Not?

For audio recording, please click this link: https://soundcloud.com/emsworthup/march-23-2014-11-17-53-am/s-6KV1K

Exodus 17:1-7

From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. ²The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” ³But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” ⁴So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” ⁵The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. ⁶I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. ⁷He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

When my kids were younger, they played a computer game called The Oregon Trail.  Oregon Trail is supposed to teach children about19th century pioneer life. The player assumes the role of a wagon leader guiding a party of settlers from Independence, Missouri, to Oregon's Willamette Valley via a Conestoga wagon in 1848. Over the course of the game, members of the traveling party can fall ill and die from a variety of causes, all of which flash up on the computer screen -- measles! snakebite! cholera!  Playing the Oregon Trail is a grand adventure, a way for kids to virtually experience a dangerous journey through the wilderness without the inconvenience of actually leaving their 21^st century perch in front of the computer.  I found the Oregon Trail sort of creepy, as I recall how casually the kids would loudly announce the sudden deaths occurring in cybersace.  “Hey mom, guess what?  My whole family just died from typhoid.  Again.”

Most of us do have never been through a remotely “Oregon Trail” kind of experience in real life. Earthquakes, tsunamis and hurricanes.  Rebel uprisings, government takeovers and crackdowns.  We’ve had a rough winter that we’ve certainly enjoyed complaining about, but life-shattering natural and manmade disasters are about as real to us as what we see on a screen.  We probably understand as much about the reality of such experiences as my children knew about what it was like to be 19^th century pioneer on the Oregon Trail.  We can read about disasters and wars, and thanks to computer technology we can even virtually experience them.   But, most often we are left to interpret true disasters from a safe distance.  And the more distant we are from an event, the more likely we are to get the story wrong.

I think today’s story from Exodus is a text we very often get wrong.  All of us have heard at least one sermon about those murmuring Israelites who miserably fail in the business of faith.  From a distance, it seems that what we have on our hands today is a group of ungrateful people. After all, look at what God has done so far in this story.  The Israelites have been freed from slavery in Egypt, led through the Red Sea, and have so far been kept alive with sufficient water, manna and even quail.  God has done all of that for the people, through the person of Moses. 

In our text today, the group has arrived at their new camp in Rephidim and things don’t look so good in this new place to which they have been led by Moses.  There is not a drop of water to be found and pretty soon, the people begin to get thirsty and they panic.  And like most panicky people tend to do, they Israelites begin to flail and yell for help like someone drowning or surrounded by fire:  “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?”  Despite all that a faithful God has already shown them, they are convinced that they are about to die.

“Who do these people think they are?” says Moses.  “Who do these people think they are, testing and quarreling with God?” We may ask the same question.  Who do these people think they are?  Who are these people with such small, puny faith?  Haven’t they learned anything since Egypt?

This text begins to open up a little, if we narrow our focus, and really look around at where we are in this text.  In fact, let’s take at look at the wilderness existence from the point of view of a single Israelite.  Imagine if you can…all of your life, you have been a prisoner.  From your small and limited vantage point as a slave in Egypt, you’ve heard whispered rumors and vague promises about freedom.  Freedom is a concept so foreign to you that the possibility that you could be anything other than a servant to Pharaoh has never crossed your mind. Suddenly, you are kicked out of Egypt, the only home you’ve ever known, and find yourself out in the middle of a desert running for your life. You’re chased by Pharaoh and his army, and escape by the skin of your teeth.  Then comes the walking and walking for weeks on end. The trek through the wilderness is a daily struggle for survival.  Nothing prepared you for this.  Life in Egypt was difficult, to be sure, but it was a life that was small and predictable.  In Egypt, you had a place to lay your head at night.  In Egypt, there was familiar food to eat, and even an occasional break from the unrelenting heat.  But here you are, catapulted out of your small, limited life into a vast and frightening wilderness. At this point in the journey, just six months out of Egypt, you can only dimly remember the initial elation that came with the first breath of freedom.  You don’t trust your leaders who seem to be leading you in circles.  You thought you were leaving Egypt for a better life.  But every day, you are becoming convinced that this journey was a terrible idea.  Given the grim reality of daily life on the road with Moses, you have begun to romanticize about the good old days back in Egypt.

It is not at all surprising that at least some of the Israelites begin to wonder if they wouldn’t have been better off just staying put in Egypt.  It is always tempting to critique the troubles of the present by improving the memory of what was in the past.  When life has become unmanageable in its current state, we all have a tendency to wax nostalgic for some better time that never actually existed.  But the Exodus story tells us that once you have left Egypt and entered into God’s reality, life will never be the same and there is no going back to who you once were.  The future lies ahead out there, somewhere, formless and mysterious as a dream.  And only the God of mystery knows how to get you there.  And the only option is to keep moving forward.

This is scary stuff.  I do not believe there is one of us who wouldn’t prefer a predictable outcome to the wildness of freedom.  Egypt starts to look pretty good when you can’t sleep at night and the anxiety of not knowing what’s next begins to creep in.  When provisions run low, when deep thirst sets in, when your belly begins to ache from hunger, it’s easy to forget that God is not only with us, but out ahead of us.  

You see, that question at the end of the text:  “Is God with us or not?” really is the punch line of Exodus.  And the rest of the Hebrew scripture seems to flow out of that question.  And it is a question that flows out to us, who are the inheritors of the journey begun in Egypt.  “Is God with us, or not?” is a question resonating when we find ourselves in desolate places, gasping for breath. In times of deserts and drought.  When life feels unlivable.  When prayer dries up.  When hope for something better seems stupid and love is just too much work. It is the question that hangs over us wherever and whenever there is the kind of suffering that brings us to our knees, or the kind of suffering that we carry around like a continuing dull ache.  The question, “Is God with us or not?” has been so much a part of human history for so long that to ask it seems almost rhetorical. 

And the question of God’s presence with us is never more finely drawn than in the season of Lent, when we begin another wilderness journey, this time to Jerusalem.  The question that rings over the Israelites in the desert is the same question that haunts us as we stumble along a shifting landscape with Jesus toward the cross.  From a distance, such an event seems a terribly tragic ending to the story of Jesus.  In Lent, everything is falling apart, and taking this long road to the cross seems a very bad idea.  We wonder if there isn’t an express train to whisk us past all that is still to come…the journey, the Passion, the betrayals, the denials, and the crucifixion…right to Easter and resurrection.

Some of us are being sustained by God in dry places but do not recognize it. We have been unable to trust our full weight and the weight of our burden to God. We are like that man who fell over the edge of the cliff and managed to grab with both hands a root sticking out of the side of the cliff. Dangling there, he looked up and shouted, "Help! Is there anybody up there? Help!"

A strong voice came from a cloud above the cliff, "Yes, I am here, my son. Trust me and let go of the root."

There was a moment of silence, and then the man shouted, "Is there anybody else up there?"

This is part of what Paul has in mind, I think, in today’s passage from Romans.  Our journeys through the dry deserts of life are not, as it may have appeared to an individual Israelite, circular misadventures leading to nowhere.  Paul understands the pain of life; there’s nothing distant or disinterested about Paul’s language in Romans.  Paul understands that there are plenty of alternatives to the Lenten progression.  One alternative is not to go on the journey at all, to keep holding on to the roots of the past and remain back in Egypt where life is awful, but also controllable.  Egypt is where our expectations are so low that we’ll never be disappointed.  That’s the way fear operates in our lives, when we would rather remain locked in our familiar ways of doing things, even when such habits of mind keep us dangling from a cliff, or even hurt us deeply.   Instead of opening up our lives to God’s better intention for us, we are fearful to take the journey at all. 

But Paul says not only should we not allow ourselves to become stuck in fear, but to boast in our sufferings, because the bad stuff teaches us “endurance, ⁴and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”  Before the manna and the quail and the water, there is the love of God which we don’t need to seek, but is continually poured into our hearts.  Love that is as light as air and strong as iron.  Like living water that never runs dry, God’s love is like an overflowing fountain in the desert.  God’s love is the voice that whispers in the night, “Don’t be afraid.  Seriously. You can do this.”

God’s love gives us the hope that grace will come – slowly but certainly.  We may not experience grace as water gushing from a rock.  It always seems like grace creeps in slowly at first, like a stubborn and dawdling Spring thaw.  Dean Leuking has a lovely metaphor drawn from the realm of a glacier rather than from the realm of the desert that describes the grace of God.  He writes:

A tiny rivulet of flowing water between tons of ice and snow is called a winterbourne.  It is hardly discernable, but it is there.  And as it continues to flow, the icy mass that threatens to choke it, gradually gives way.  The tons of debris does not choke the winterbourne.  That tiny stream finally melts away the icy mass over it.

Every year, during Passover, our Jewish brothers and sisters recite the Exodus story so that every generation will remember not only how easy it is for us to lose sight of God when we are in the wilderness, but also so we can be confident that God will never abandon us.  Even on a good day, we are easily distracted people.  We allow fear and cynicism to rule us. Our emotions are fractured, our loyalties are divided, our commitment is fleeting, and, like the Israelites, we want what we want when we want it. If we allow it, the season of Lent takes us to places where we may practice our spiritual survival skills, skills that can become weak in our more well-fed and watered seasons.  Skills that can build up our endurance in order that we may see the small cracks in our lives which reveal the movement of the Holy Spirit.  Skills we need in order to detect and uncover that tiny trickle of living water when our spiritual thirst overwhelms us.  

God is always leading us into better future than we could ever come up with ourselves.  And God will water us with grace all along the way, pouring love into our hearts so that we may never be thirsty.  What God requires, what God wants for us most lovingly is nothing more and nothing less than all our attention.  God wants our attention so much, that in the fullness of time, God once and for all time answered the question of, “Is God with us, or not?” with the resounding yes! that is Jesus Christ.  Emmanuel. God with us and for us, to the end of time.  

Wilderness journeys give us time and space – precious time in which we are able to turn our full attention to God. How much richer would we be if we considered not just these 40 days of Lent, but our whole lives as time in the Lenten desert?  What if we awoke every morning, determined to look for the movement of the Holy?  What would our lives be like if we were attentive to God in the same manner that God is completely and forever fascinated with us and all of God’s creation?  This is not just the territory of the monks and the mystics, my brothers and sisters.  I truly believe that God is in all, just waiting for us to notice God’s amazing work among us.  

If we take the time to give all our attention to this God who is leading us with loving care, we will see how Holy Spirit is at work in every moment of our lives.  If we trust the One who loved us so much that he was willing to take on our flesh and abide with us, we will discover not just trickling streams, but gushing fountains of living water that never run dry. We will be led by the One who fed us in the wilderness to a table that is overflowing with good things for all who hunger for righteousness.   Thanks be to God. 

Lenten Discipline -- March 22

Lenten discipline of the day:

take an hour to just be…happy!

You have turning my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy (Psalm 30:11)

Sometimes I wonder if we need a Lent entirely devoted not to penance and confession, but  to rejoicing and praise. It seems to me that the church is pretty good at recognizing sin and sadness, but not so hot at seeing the joy of God's spirit among us.  Maybe we could use some practice rejoicing in the Lord.  I'll say it again -- rejoice!  

So here's a soundtrack for you to take an hour or so over the next few hours and rejoice!  The song "Happy" by Pharrell Williams has been out for awhile now.  It's incredibly catchy, but what I love is that the singer has made a "24 hour" video of the song.  So pick your hour to practice happiness.  https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKPi39tTpkdpjBVQZo5oFLWjFjlOMkd2A

Since the church is having a bowling party this afternoon, I know when my hour will be!

Lenten Discipline -- March 21

Lenten discipline of the day:
forgive someone.

When Rev. Fred Rogers died in 2003, Rev. Fred Phelps and the members of Westboro Baptist Church showed up in Pittsburgh to stage a protest at Rogers' memorial service.  Why?  In an interview with the Post-Gazette, this is what Phelps had to say about Mr. Rogers:

          "Mr. Rogers gave aid and comfort to homosexuals," Phelps said, his Mississippi accent dripping with insincerity. "He was a man who preached tolerance of all sorts of people in ways that directly contradicted the Bible. His syrupy teachings led millions astray. He was a wuss and he was an enabler of wusses." 
(http://old.post-gazette.com/columnists/20030307tony107col2p2.asp)

Rev. Phelps died yesterday, March 20, which just happens to be Mr. Rogers' birthday.  Many commentators were quick to point out the irony that one of America's most gentle and loving icons and one of America's most belligerent, polarizing figures will be forever linked in such a way.  

Phelps not only protested at the funeral of Mr. Rogers, but also at the funerals of soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, linking their deaths to God's judgment of America for being tolerant not only of gay people, but also Jews, Catholics and others not fitting Rev. Phelps' definition of "Christian."  Tolerance, according to Phelps, is not a biblical principle.

To imagine Fred Phelps at God's heavenly banquet seated next to Fred Rogers is a hard thing to do, but it is a vision of God's grace that gives hope to all of us who sin and fall short of God's intention for us.  

It is not for me to forgive Fred Phelps for the pain he caused countless people during his lifetime.  His offense was not against me, but against the families and friends of every person who suffered his cruel and hateful tirades.  But his death leads all of us to wonder -- who is outside God's circle of grace and forgiveness?  Can grace teach us something about forgiving what seems unforgivable in our own lives?  

Forgiveness is tricky business, I realize.  Sometimes there are harms committed against us that are so deep, we cannot imagine ever being in relationship with the person who has harmed us ever again.  And in some circumstances, keeping a safe distance is the proper, healthy option.

But God is just as interested in what goes on in our hearts.  Learning to forgive again and again is how we imitate God's grace in our lives.  Loving the agreeable neighbor demands very little of us.  Loving the neighbor or enemy who makes our skin crawl is a spiritual discipline that can free us from living a constricted and rigid life.

When Mr. Rogers said he likes us just as we are, I think he meant it.  He liked our good stuff and our dark stuff.  Rev. Rogers modeled grace and forgiveness throughout his whole life.  So it's not such a stretch, is it, to imagine him greeting the other Fred with open arms?