May 24 -- Angels Sidling Up & Ascension from Below (Easter 7A)

He is risen!  … Alleluias abound.  We are Easter people with signs of the resurrection all around us and around this world.  Christ is deeply present in our pain and in our joy.  In our hope and in our sorrow.  Christ breathes through us, Christ breathes us, he’s so close…

So what’s Jesus doing ascending into heaven, as we read today?  Why’s he leaving us?  Why’s that closeness shrinking and shrinking as he lifts up into the clouds?  I thought he’s always promised to stay with us.
Oh well, let’s just wait.
I’m sure he’ll be back.  [looking up]
Will you wait with me?
It’s very Christian to wait, together…
And we’re getting pretty used to waiting these days…

This may have been how those disciples long ago felt to:  Can you imagine the joy that they had just experienced on reuniting with their friend?  Forget for a moment all the theological implications of Jesus’ resurrection—these men and women had their friend, their son, their brother, their favorite teacher back!

But just as soon as he’s back in the flesh—walking with them down their roads, fishing in their waters, sitting around their tables—he’s gone again…this time up into heaven.
So they’ll wait.

The text says, “While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them.”

Jesus hadn’t even been gone for but a few moments—and they could probably still see him way up there, like when a little one accidentally lets go of a helium balloon and we all watch it drifting up and up, sometimes there’s some crying when that happens—and angelic strangers are sidling up next to them!

Jesus was never even gone completely and angels are already sidling up!

How we too may be caught staring at the heavens.  How nice it is to “gaze up,” to enjoy the serenity, the dreaminess—even the fun of tracking a drifting hot air balloon Jesus, somewhere up there.

OK maybe not literally, do we gaze up at the sky.  We’re busy, productive types here.  But what is your drifting Jesus balloon that you’re gaze up at wistfully?

Paying off the house?  Retiring in fine style?  Keeping the kids perfectly safe and sound?  Finishing the backyard?  Just getting to heaven?  Getting out of this shut-down, getting back to church, getting back to “normal,” getting back something or someone we’ve lost...

All nice things, to be sure; pretty normal really, all those desires.

But Jesus doesn’t operate in the realm of “pretty normal really”!  Jesus doesn’t just leave us gazing up.  And he doesn’t drop us a ladder from on high either, affirming our longings and blissful dreams, so that we can leave all this behind.
Instead Jesus sends angels, sidling up, to snap us out of our gazes [“suddenly”], and to position us for ministry in this world, in this world.  These angels locate us.
   
When we stare at the sky, we see no one else.  I wouldn’t even know if you were here or if you left, if just kept staring at the sky.  I probably wouldn’t care.

But when I’m snapped out of my gazing up, I see you, I see us, I see this world out the windows and doors.
And this is just Luke’s version.   (The author of Acts is the author of Luke.)  In Matthew’s version there is no ascension story, Jesus in fact never does leave.  Jesus says, “Lo, I am with you always.”

Meme on FB this week:  “Today we celebrate Ascension.  To those who wonder what it’s about: It’s the day when Jesus started to work from home.”
Whether its angels or Jesus himself, we have our focal point re-adjusted again today.  From gazing at the sky to seeing our siblings, seeing the world, and seeing all those angels right before us, right with us.  Angels sidling up.

And then starts an interesting progression: One of the great things I love about this text in Acts is this progression that Jesus offers:  “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria [cross that border], and to the ends of the earth.”

Heather and I had a friend who once said — she was a bit of a guru when it came to house projects, and I was complaining to her about being overwhelmed with stuff (thinking of her advice these days) — she said, just take one thing, one room, one part of the yard at a time.  “Don’t try to stay on top of it all, or you’ll drive yourself crazy.”  Her advice reminds me of “Jerusalem, Samaria and the ends of the earth.”  The progression is daunting, but when we take each step intentionally, lovingly, faithfully, when we are located by the angels myself, then we do everything we can in this time and place.  Not gazing out or up, taking a breath, one day at a time.  The angels are already sidling up next to you.

We are called to be witnesses, friends in Christ, witnesses...
1) to Jerusalem – those who are hurting right here at Bethlehem, in Fairfax, in Northern Virginia...but Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook at that...
2) we are called to be witnesses to Judea and Samaria too – that is, both in our country and across our borders – those who are hurting in the District, in Maryland and West Virginia, in Florida and Michigan and Puerto Rico, and then cross our national borders: in Mexico and Canada and Cuba.
3) And then, we are called to be witnesses to the ends of the earth.

WE are called to be witnesses, given the Spirit of Truth, the Word of God, word of life!
And we’re not alone in this work.  You’re not alone.

My theology professor (of sainted memory, on this Memorial Day Weekend).  Vitor was soldier of the Gospel.  He would get so passionate about this text, and point out the literal words of vs. 11: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?  This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go…”  In other words, his theological read of this, is that Jesus will come from beneath:  if he’s coming in the same way we saw him go, then if you want to see Jesus from now on, you will see him in solidarity with the below, with the downtrodden people, the marginalized people, the hopeless and cynical and lost and addicted and oppressed people, the victims of violence and grieving who are remembering this Memorial weekend…

You will see him come the same way the same vector you witnessed him go.  And not just rising from people: You will see Jesus ascend back to us from the bosom of the devastated earth.  Jesus ascends from the polluted streams, and chopped down rainforests, and the elephant graveyards, all the species who have been lost on account of greed and selfishness.  Jesus ascends to us.

And goes with us as we witness, for Christ gives us that same ascension Spirit which both enlivens us, gives us the courage and strength we need to go forth, and it binds us together.  We are never offering our hands to Christ’s work alone.  Even if the whole Christian church around the world dwindles, dwindles, dwindles there will always be two or three gathering, reading Scripture, sharing the meal, and being sent out in Christ’s name!  You are not alone.  We are bound together, bound together, nourished and then sent out.

I love that at the end of this text, after this amazing experience of ascension and angels, from gazing to seeing, from dreaming to scheming—after it all, the disciples returned to Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s walk from where they experienced all this.  They don’t go out from the hillside of the Ascension:  first they gather. And they start this whole mission into the world in prayer.  “They devoted themselves in prayer.”

How often we charge into our tasks before devoting ourselves in prayer.  (prayer before voting at assembly, prayer before council meetings...vs. not)

“They devoted themselves in prayer.”

Friends in Christ, that’s a picture of a Sunday morning!  A Sabbath day’s walk.  Devoting ourselves in prayer.

Luther: “I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.”

Pausing for a moment to give thanks that God is both up there and right here, at the very same time.  Lifting our hands in a gesture of thanksgiving, that this world is not ours to rescue, but only ours to serve.  Un-gripping our hands in a gesture of openness of heart and mind, for God to take us once again this day, and make us one, mold us into a people with eyes set not on the cluster of clouds and a one-track dream, but on the cluster of sisters and brothers across the street, and across the “interwebs,” and across the borders — and a one-track Gospel message of GRACIOUS LOVE.

We are gathered, we are baptized, we are fed at this manger, and now we are sent.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

May 17 -- Paul & Our Many Altars (Easter 6A)

Friends in Christ, if Paul was to wander through your life — your daily routines, where you spent your time and your money, where you made sacrifices: the things that bring you great joy, the things that get you really upset, and the ways you speak — if Paul was to wander down “your street”, stand at the center of your personal “town square” (the Areopagus) — WHAT WOULD HE NOTICE?

The question is not: “Are you/is anyone religious?”  The question is: “In what ways are you extremely religious?”  Everyone worships something.  The word worship, broken down, “worth-ship”.  What’s worthy of your sacrifices?  That’s what we worship.  Lots of people go to church but don’t worship God.  Because God’s not worthy of their sacrifices, the church is not worthy of their sacrifices: traveling the world is what’s truly worthy of their sacrifices.  Clothing or hobbies or housing improvements or sports or fancy alcohol or knives or guns or shoes or concerts or cars or crafts are what’s truly worthy of their sacrifices.  We all have our thing, I think.  What’s your thing?

The best way for Paul to wander down any one of our “streets” is for him to take a look at our credit card statements, right?  Our Amazon (non-essential) recent purchases.  Or however you can track how and where you spend your money.  (I was shocked at how much our family spent on food in this past year’s credit card report — not restaurants but food: organic, locally sourced, healthy food.  It’s more expensive.  We’ve admitted that’s a place we’re willing to make sacrifices.  I guess you could say it’s one of our idols.)  And I won’t even divulge all my non-essential Amazon purchases.  That’s the real “giving record,” right?

That’s where we can see where we really make sacrifices.  I know the whole, “but it’s not just about money when it comes to church” idea.

And that’s true, but so often, I think, we can hide behind that.   So much is about money...  x2 That’s why Jesus talked about money all the time!

“Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Mt. 6.21; Lk. 12.34).  What is it that you treasure?  What is it that you protect?  What is it that you make sacrifices for?  Where is your heart?
—
Well, all this was true in the ancient world as well, as Paul walked through the streets of Athens, “Athenians,” he says, “I see how extremely religious you are in every way.”

But there’s something else:
Paul notices that there is an altar to an unknown God.
You see, the people of Athens — like us today — worshipped all kinds of gods.  I think it was more overt then: maybe less shame or denial about it.  They made sacrifices openly to the gods of sports, food, parties, travel, transportation, music, crafts and weather.  (BTW, living in Southern California all those years, I think we really worshipped the weather there.  I mean, people really make sacrifices for that beautiful weather, higher cost of living, etc.  And our observation, leaving that region was all these comments on how much we were going to miss the weather.  How different is that from worshiping an ancient sun god?)  That’s just one of many altars...

But there was this one altar that was unmarked.  It was like the fill-in-the-gap altar — one for everything else.

...and Paul seizes on that image to introduce them to a different kind of God.

See, it actually was in fact a fill-in-the-gap altar:  Like today, the people lived in great fear.  If you didn’t sacrifice to every god out there, if you worship at every altar — the altar of security, the altar of beauty & youth, the altar of war, the altar of food and drink and sport and weather, the altar of work...If you don’t appease every god, then trouble would inevitably befall you.
So just in case you miss one, there was this little “fill-in-the-gap” altar.
 Just in case you forgot about a god or two.  You could sacrifice at the altar of the unknown god.

       Paul seizes on that to draw them into a new understanding...
--
See, it’s like, there was “something else.”  The people even knew it.  This way of living and worshiping and making sacrifices at all these altars, this way of being extremely religious was coming up short.

Don’t we see that too?  Do you ever feel that?  All these things we worship, and yet, somehow, it’s never enough?  (We’re having some real time to reflect on these during this shutdown.  During this “great pause” that this global pandemic has forced upon us...)

We’re always pouring more and more out at all these different altars?  And every god, will endlessly take our sacrifices: our money, our time, our devotion, our energy, our whole lives.  But it’s like they’re never appeased.  The gods are never appeased, and they’ll just keep taking…  (Just talking with dear friends about the tolls that stress is taking on our bodies, especially these days — I realize that not everyone is feeling stress right now amid this shut-down, some are even downright bored.  But, for so many, parents of school kids, or toddlers, balancing jobs and work from home, school, family, economic pressures, etc. the frantic pace at which we’re running around our own homes, from altar to altar to altar (it’s like all those altars got crammed into our house)…

Yeah, Paul could say it to us too:  “I see how extremely religious you are in every way!”

And, let me say, if life has had the brakes slammed on, and you’re more in the camp of twiddling your thumbs, staring at the wall, that’s certainly an opportunity for devotion to the many gods to tick up — surfing the shopping websites, buying crazy things in large amounts, consuming food, alcohol, social media, technology, instruments to fill the time.  So many altars!

Paul says it to us too:  “I see how extremely religious you are in every way!”
--
But then there’s this one other little altar.  This little tiny chapel, this insignificant table in the corner.  This silly, old cross.  Laughable really, in the shadow of all the other towering altars.  

Paul seizes on that little altar, and takes that fearful theology (“talk of God”) around that altar — how that has infected Christianity now too:  fearful theology — and fills it with incarnational theology.  God is with us.  This little, tiny, insignificant altar you see here, Paul says, “I proclaim to you that the God who made the world and everything in it, [the God] who is [composer and conductor] of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands…[this God] allotted the times of [our] existence and the boundaries of the places where [we] live, so that [we may] search for God and perhaps grope for [God]...though indeed [God] is not far from each one of us.  For ‘In [God] we live and move and have our being….’”

We don’t grope for God, as if God is some object of our attaining, yet another thing to acquire [“gotta go to church to get some God in my life…”].  No, Paul proclaims here: We are IN God already.  My whole life changed with I started to accept that.  [say it again]

This little, un-named altar is an entry point into experiencing a God that is truly above all other gods!  A God who’s got the whole world — the whole universe — in a loving embrace.  A God in whom we “live and move and have our being.”  A God whose name is love, in Christ Jesus.

This is where Paul takes us...along with his ancient hearers.  Paul preaches of a God who is beyond time and space, who is above all our petty obsessions and weaknesses, who holds us even as we try to appease other gods!

This little Altar, this Book, this Water doesn’t contain God (God doesn’t live, cooped up in here)!  But they do, we confess, carry God.  This little altar, this old book, these drops of water, point us to a God who is loosed in, with, above, below, all around and throughout, under this entire universe!

We cannot encapsulate or domesticate this God of whom Paul speaks!  All we can do is give ourselves up to this holy movement — sacrifice ourselves to what we are already in God’s hands.

...Think of when children are angry and restless in their mother’s arms: there’s no use in trying to overpower her, “Just rest. Just breath. It’s OK.”  Can’t we be like restless children running from altar to altar to altar?  (Paul was once a restless Saul!)

Friends in Christ, we are truly IN Christ.  Not every day do we get to reflect on the all-inclusive, all-loving, all-surrounding embrace of a God in whom “we live and move and have our being.”  Being in Christ is where we find ourselves.  So now all we we can do is enjoy it, take a breath...and go make disciples.  Go invite others into this understanding, into this joyful awareness.  Tell them that we don’t have to make all these other sacrifices at all these other altars!  Go, make disciples by pointing them to the water and the word of life, and this community of love, this communion.  For simply in this following, there is peace.

Peace that is fuller and deeper than any other peace that any idols can offer.  Love divine, all loves excelling!   Jesus calls us away from those other loves, to come and follow, make your sacrifices here, and make disciples.  You are Christ’s witnesses to these things: you have a job to do!  It’s a blessed burden, a labor of love.

Thanks be to God, who holds us and this whole cosmos now...and forever more.  Go spread that Good News.  Breathe.  It’s gonna be ok.  Because at this altar, we celebrate...that... God’s got us.  AMEN.

September 1 -- Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Jesus says when you go to a banquet or a dinner party, don’t sit at the best spot, take the path of humility.

Well frankly, I find such command hard to strike a chord for us at here Bethlehem.  Because we at Bethlehem are mostly coming from backgrounds, steeped in the virtues of modesty, humility, if-you-can’t-say-something-nice-don’t-say-anything-at-all, the virtues of self-sacrifice, never pushing your way to the front.   

“After you, please.”  — “Oh no, I’m OK.  Thank you.  How are you?” — “No, no, no.  You first, I insist.” — It’s how I was raised, as a little boy, and I imagine (and have noticed), in general, it’s been even more intensified for little girls.  Soft-spokenness is esteemed.  It’s even seen as a virtue.     

In fact, I would even venture to say that asserting oneself too much in lots of circles would really be looked down upon.  Making bold requests, or offering your solid, unbiased opinion, or speaking out of turn.  You can do that here in our midst, because no one will stop you — everybody wants to be nice — but many of us probably won’t look favorably on it, might even talk about you behind your back afterwards.  Right?  “Wasn’t he pushy?”

So when “YOU FIRST” is about the only thing many of us Christians are assertive about, wouldn’t it seem we’ve got this Gospel lesson covered?  Of course we’d give up the best seat...  Is there really a guiding word here for us?  Can we check this Gospel lesson off the list? “Yep, got it covered.”

As I was reflecting on this with some colleagues, however, a wise friend pointed out, “But isn’t our modesty/humility, and willingness to flip the conversation or the attention so quickly on another, a way of taking the place of honor?” 

Because by letting ourselves be passed over, we are essentially saying, “I don’t need any help.”  Let all the eyes go on to the poor, the lame, the blind -- the misfits -- not on me.  “I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP.   Let others be vulnerable.  I’ll sit right here, thank you very much.”  Could we be placing ourselves in a place of honor when we say that?  When we assert our independence and tell everyone ‘I don’t need your/any help’?  

Friends in Christ, this is a text again about hospitality and community formation, on all kinds of levels.  Welcoming the stranger among us, and welcoming us among our strangeness.  There is an important place for you at this banquet!  And for everyone!...

The truth is, the reign of God looks a lot more like the Department of Motor Vehicles than our congregations.  Everybody’s there!  What did Martin Luther King, Jr. say?  “Sunday morning is the most segregated hour of the week.”  We are called always to extend God’s wide welcome to everyone we meet.  Jesus couldn’t be more explicit here.  

We are invited again today into Jesus’ radical (last week I said) “holy flipping.”  That’s very Lukan: Jesus is always flipping things around, changing perspectives.  Bringing the haughty and the rich down, and raising up the poor, sick, bent over, outcasts.  The last first, the first last.  In fact, let’s just try something, as a way of getting into this text a bit…  

New perspective!  You probably sit where you do because it’s the best seat in the house...for you.  And now you’ve given that up for the opposite.  Worship in your new seat for the rest of the service today.  And in your processing afterwards, while your having lunch with family or driving home, the question is not “Did you like it, the different perspective today?” but rather “What do you notice from your new place?”  

Today we have again a glimpse of God’s original intention of radical diversity.  And of course that includes you, that includes us.  God’s welcome most definitely includes you, but not just you and me and all those who look and dress and live and worship like we do:  It also those who look, and dress, and live and worship very differently.  God always includes the outsiders.  For God, diversity, strangeness, difference is not a problem that creeps into our neighborhoods and our churches.  It’s God’s original intention!  Look at the creation story or the Pentecost event, when the church was born:  

     God creates a bunch of creatures, gathers a bunch of people, blesses ‘em, promises to stay with ‘em, and frees ‘em to go -- it happens in Genesis, in Acts, and it happens today.  

Our farmers and scientists warn us of the dangers of mono-cultures and extol the virtues of cross-pollinating.  That’s what this text is really all about: CROSS-POLLINATING!  Mixing it up.

Yeah! The reign of God is like a lush and colorful garden with all kinds of different smells, bees moving from here to there.  The top seat to the low seat to the middle seat -- seating doesn’t even matter.  What matters is all the mixing, the learning from one another’s different perspectives, the celebrating, and welcoming.  AND EATING.  (just a glimpse of that on Friday’s Summer Pictures and Stories!) God’s banquet is a feast of rich foods and drinks.  Laughter, children, stories, and songs, and dessert.  Do you see?!  Cross-pollinating.  CROSS pollinating.  CROSS pollinating.  

This is the moment of our church body, by the way.  The ELCA. We are starting to break down as a mono-(bi-tri-)cultural church.  And we are in fact starting to cross-pollinate.  The ELCA publishes an African American hymnal -- did you know that?   We’ve got one in Spanish too!   We’ve got a joint declaration of justification with our Roman Catholic siblings, we’ve got the Call to Common Mission with Episcopalians, pulpit and table sharing, agreements and joint statements and ongoing dialogues with Methodists, Presbyterians, Moravians, interfaith dialogues and relationships and education materials committed to honoring our Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist and Hindu neighbors.  Mixing, mingling, cross-pollinating...not because diversity is some PC goal for the future, that’s the original state of God’s creation way back at the beginning!  And isn’t it interesting, as we do this, how the ELCA’s budget and head count is shrinking? Similar dynamic on a smaller scale too, right?  Many have reached their limit of cross-pollinating.  “OK, with that group — I WILL NOT come along.”  We all do this.  We all reach our limit.  Where can the conversation stop for you?  And where is God nudging you to grow?  Could that be Jesus asking you to take a different seat?  (for some, that’s letting yourself be served!)  A new perspective?  God’s welcome and embrace is always larger than ours...And friends, God’s mission goes on, despite our cut-offs, and limits.  The welcome of God extends always, with or without our participation or permission.      

This is tough work.  Hospitality is tricky — it’s tricky just with our friends and family.  It’s a lot of work cross-pollinating, learning to live with strangers.  But it’s right work.  It’s good.  

Friends in Christ, let’s keep working together as a community of faith at our hospitality.  Let’s stick together as we reach out, struggling to give that person — who is the most challenging for you — a top seat at the table...because like it or not, God already has!  And God gives you a place too.  Thanks be to God for new perspectives, new opportunities both to serve...and to be served (for those of us who might glory in our upstanding humility).  Today’s a new day of grace!  So let’s celebrate: let’s eat, let’s party, let’s sing!  The banquet is here and now!  AMEN.

--

HoD — ‘Vamos todos al banquete’  #523 — English or Spanish

July 7 -- Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Grace to you and peace….well maybe…  :)
Jesus sends us out like lambs out into the midst of wolves!

That’s us he’s talking about!  When it says he sends “the 70” out, scholars are pretty clear that’s referring to all humanity.  Everyone is sent!  (I haven’t preached Luke’s Gospel since Lent, but remember that Luke is very interested in the Gospel of Christ radiating out, locally then globally, from Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria...and to the ends of the earth.)

So how do you feel about that?!  Being the ones Jesus sends?

Ever wonder, like I do: What are we you doing, listening to and following after this Jesus?  I published that question in the newsletter this week, with my email asking for responses and got like 0!  :)   Uhhhh.  What are we doing following after Jesus, sends us, like lambs into the midst of wolves?

Why do you follow?  It’s good, in these hot humid days to ask what this is all about?  And to stop and take in the fact that Jesus asks us to go into some pretty terribly risky situations.  I love how he says (vs.2-3), “Go on YOUR way.”  My way?  My way is always the a easier way.  The most calculated, safest way.  The path of least resistance.  Jesus is telling us that we’ll most likely be rejected, even eaten up here!

I’m amazed Christianity is as strong as it is!  Aren’t you?  I mean, this faith stuff is not for the faint-hearted.

When tragedy strikes (my 42 year old friend from seminary’s husband died suddenly and mysteriously last week), when disease creeps in, when friends abandon/even betray you, when marriages fall apart, why do you keep following after this Jesus?
And then, at the core of this passage, like so many in the Gospel of Luke, is the call to stand up to the forces of evil in this world.  It’s not just rah, rah hang in there passage.  It’s not just about survival as lambs among wolves.  At the core of this mission Jesus gives to us (the 70) is the call to get face to face with the powers of this world and proclaiming a bold NO to the ways and means that hurt people and earth itself.

When you embrace, preach and live the peace of Christ (that we’ll share in a moment), ironically, you actually create conflict!  When the powers of this world are threatened, by a higher vision of Divine peace, the peace of Christ — where all are included, all are fed, housed, clothed, welcomed, educated — the powers start to get very disturbed, the dragons start to wake up and snarl and try to squelch the disturbance.  (Mother Theresa: feed hungry =saint; ask why there is hunger = communist)

See, everything in Luke is tying back to Jesus‘ inaugural address that we shared together back in January, where the poor have good news brought to them, the captives go free, debts are forgiven, the year of the Lord’s favor.  Luke, remember, I often like to call it: the Mercy Book.  When you start talking mercy, especially to strangers in power, like where Jesus sends us — out there! — you’ve got another thing coming.

Wait, wolves?!!!
Where is the Good News for us in that, friends?

Well, I believe it’s in the journey!  See, Jesus says it over and over, and it’s still really hard to get, but I’ll say it again (even to myself):  The kingdom of God is here!   It’s right here (at hand, upon us!  (candidacy essays: “I want to usher in the kingdom.”)
Our Creator God is already with us.  Christ is right by our side.  The Holy Spirit is moving all around in this sanctuary and in your home and your car and your office or classroom!  Out on the open road.  It’s in the journey!

Do you know the kinds of adventures you’ll have when you risk the call that Christ has for you here?  Don’t wait any longer.  Have the conversation that needs to be had.  Make the change in your life that will lead to deeper faith.  Let the investment go that’s been tying you down.  This is Christ calling us.  Sending you.  And do you know the kinds of fellow travelers you’ll meet?  The kinds of joys you’ll share, even amid the great struggles and pains?   The kingdom of God is here!  Now.  It’s all part of it.

I’m afraid I’m not making sense.
Church stories…
I have a friend who’s been the pastor of small church.  Opportunities for growth and renewal keep knocking on their door...literally but he cannot for the life of him get the congregation to trust God and open that door.  It would revitalize the whole ministry, but they are so stuck on protecting their building and their traditions.  He told me the other day, “It’s like there’s no room for God in there.  It’s like the Spirit is locked up in a cage, like a bird.”  The divine is crowded out by fear of the unknown.  And they just can’t take that step.

Meanwhile, here’s another church I knew in San Diego a few years back: They were literally dying.  Maybe that’s what it takes: my friend’s congregation wasn’t quite at that point yet.)  Anyway, Calvary Lutheran (aptly named in the moment) came together to have that really tough meeting about closing the doors.  It was a younger member of the church who stood up, faced with the realities of budget and staffing shortages, that said, “Well, if we’re going to die, let’s die serving.”  The whole congregation agreed.  This became their rally cry.  And with that they opened up a food pantry in their underserved neighborhood, where in a couple months and with some miraculous grants that came through they started feeding literally hundreds of families a week!   More than one of the more popular organizations downtown.  They just quietly kept feeding people — the whole congregation, not just a few dedicated members.  It became their whole identity.  Suddenly they weren’t worried as much about all they didn’t have.  Their whole perspective changed.  They heeded the call that Christ had for them all along.  And in that came true peace.

And it’s not romantic, it’s not like all their problems were solved and the church grew and recovered by leaps and bounds.  The renewal came in the paradigm shift, the radical re-envisioning of what it means to follow Jesus.

These are the kinds of adventures we have as we risk the call that Christ has for us.  The kingdom of God is not something far off, someday down the line — it’s right here, now (even as we’re dying)!

I love when babies scream during a baptism.  Well, I don’t love it, but I see a powerful reminder every time it happens:  this Christian life is not an easy one.  We should all shed a few tears.  It’s lambs-amid-wolves business.  And yet in this same crazy commission, Jesus talks about peace, true peace.  Finding and knowing God’s peace, right where you are.  Not moving around from place to place, always in search of a better deal, or more comfort or tastier food.  Right?  He says, “Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide.”
So here we go.  Jesus told them to go, and so they went.  And God stays with them.  God stays with you, this day and always.  AMEN.

June 9 -- Pentecost Sunday

It is so hard to do Pentecost again, isn’t it?  I mean, in our ordered, structured, controlled and many ways comfortable lives, our Confession and call to worship — more poetic, today — I think, kind of nailed it:  “So we listen, depart, and return to our ordered existence: we depart with only a little curiosity but not yielding; we return to how it was before, unconvinced but wistful, slightly praying for wind, craving newness, wishing to have it all available to us.”  (Those were the words of pastor, prophet and professor Walter Brueggemann.)

He concludes in that piece: “We pray toward the wind and wait, unconvinced but wistful.”  

With all that we have, why would we even need the Holy Spirit at Pentecost?  Right?  She just messes things up.

I mean the Acts story is kind of entertaining, we’re a little curious, but “shake us loose from lethargy, break the chains of sin asunder for earth’s healing set us free, crumble walls that still divide us, make us one in Christ our Lord” (all from verse 3 of the Hymn of the Day we’re about to sing) — that all sounds nice, but let’s calm down here, people: Pentecost is just a day for wearing red, maybe reading and singing in different languages...earth’s healing? crumbling walls? C’mon, Jesus — that’s too much, that’s too “out there”.  We’d rather remain “unconvinced but wistful.”

It’s hard to do Pentecost, isn’t it?  It’s hard to live Pentecost, and — what we in the church call — the Season after Pentecost.  Starting next week until Advent!  We’d rather just return to our ordered existence, only a little curiosity, but not yielding.

This is our dilemma:  It’s hard to yield.  It’s hard to let the Holy Spirit in, disordering, dismantling.

Couple years ago, I heard a story from a new friend about Emma.  I was at a training event in Chicago and met Jan, Emma’s pastor.  She told me about her larger-than-life little Emma, a 7-year-old member of this start-up congregation in suburban Kansas City.  

They had been gathering for only a few months, and they were just beginning another typical Sunday morning service with red hymnals like ours and synthesized organ on the electric keyboard, gathering at the font for the Invocation, the Call to Worship like we do.  Pastor Jan, offering the opening words in the Confession and Forgiveness.  And suddenly Emma says, “Stop!!”  See, they were worshiping in a storefront and one of the walls of their space was all window, and Emma was watching, and she saw that a new family had just arrived, running late with their baby in a stroller, but trying to be discreet.  Emma went running right through the gathering at the font and burst outside to throw her arms open and say, “Welcome!  We’re so happy that you’re here!  My name’s Emma!  What’s yours?”  (It happened to be a same-gendered couple.)  The congregation can watch this whole drama unfold through the glass, and within seconds, little, energetic Emma bursts back into the sanctuary, with her new friends and announces, a little winded now, “This is Anna and this is Julie, and this is baby Simon. [whew] Now we can start.”

When Pastor Jan told me this story, she ending by saying: “Best Call to Worship ever.”  

Crumbling walls, yes?  The gift of a storefront sanctuary, walls that are windows.  Or no walls at all.  I love when we worship outside in the pavilion, and what a gift it is to gather in a place where outsiders can be easily seen and welcomed in.  We have that too, in many ways, with our large narthex and multiple points of entry.  

This is doing Pentecost, and while it is hard, Christ fills us this day with courage and joy to go, and throw our arms open like Emma.  “Welcome, we’re so glad that you’re here!”

Another true story from the West Coast that happened in one of the congregations out in the desert.  Service was beginning.  It was a more traditional, established church, where people even dress up a bit for worship on Sunday (polo shirts).  And all the usual people were gathering and greeting one another, and in comes a very thin woman — we’ll call her Nora — she’s a white woman, but her tan skin is so dark and leathery that you can barely see the strange tattoos exposed by her tank-top, her hair is frizzy and tangled -- also beaten by the sun.  And her worn-out sandals are barely hanging onto her feet.  

The “greeter” — we’ll call her Joan — who is always the greeter and knows everybody who comes in by name (Joan’s even the type of person who knows personal details about just about every member), Joan sees this wild-haired, poorly dressed, age-worn woman coming in from the parking lot, and she immediately gets both nervous and suspicious.  “Hi...” she says to the visitor with a forced smile.  “Can we help you?”  

“Uh, yeah.” Nora’s starts, with a raspy voice from years of smoking, kind of peering into the past Joan toward the sanctuary, “Where are the service folders?” 

“Um,” Joan stops her.  Kind of looking over her shoulder.  In a hushed whisper, Joan offers some advice: “Maybe you’d be a little more comfortable at the church down the street.”  (Joan knows that St. James Episcopal, just walking distance, down on the corner really “specializes” in homeless ministry.)  “Maybe you’d be a little more comfortable at the church down the street.” 

“The hell I would!” says Nora, “I’m coming in.  I need to be here.”  And in she walks, finds the bulletin herself, takes a place in the one of the middle pews (nobody sits next to her), and proceeds to sing and participate enthusiastically...and off key through the service.  

The people remain nervous and suspicious, watching her out of the corner of their eye during worship. But Nora’s not going anywhere.    

[pause]

[slow] Friends, both Nora and Emma are Pentecost characters.  The Spirit bursts out to welcome the stranger and the outsider, and the Spirit sometimes is the outsider that’s “comin’ in!” “I need to be here,” Holy Spirit says, whether we’re comfortable with her or not.  

It is hard to do Pentecost, when we’re settled and comfortable, but friends in Christ, Pentecost is upon us.  We don’t get a say in it.  We have a God who blows out and blows in, with or without our permission or our parameters.  This God is with us and for us.  This God moves among us — sometimes we’re on board with her; many times, we’re ambivalent at best.  That doesn’t stop the Holy Spirit.  (In Greek and Hebrew the exact same word for spirit means wind or breath too.  Why do you think that is?)  

The Holy Spirit, she is wild: sometimes bubbly like young Emma, sometimes raspy and way off-key like old Nora.  Sometimes gathering us in, sometimes, breaking us out..of old ways and old suspicions.  This Holy Spirit is here in our midst today, and even while it is indeed hard to do Pentecost — to not just stay “wistful and unconvinced” — even while it is indeed hard to do Pentecost and this coming Season after Pentecost, the “What now? Season”...friends, the Spirit stays with us anyway.  The Holy Spirit in all her wildness rests even on our heads, burns our psyches, singes our egos, grants us visions and dreams, enables us to prophesy, that is say things that we would never imagine ourselves to be saying...and in all that, we are made free.  In other words, the Spirit moves us to yield.

She moves us to yield and sends us forth to serve in peace, for we are made free...whether we’re ready for this kind of freedom or not.  Pentecost is upon us.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.    

June 2 -- Seventh Sunday of Easter

How’d you like Jesus’ prayer here?  I sometimes struggle John’s Gospel, because I think it’s hard to follow some of Jesus’ words… “I in them and you in me and we one and they one I in them you us we he they…”  I loose track of all those pronouns.  But here’s the bottom line of the loving prayer that Jesus prays:  that Christ is in and with us, and that we’re together.  

Isn’t that beautiful?  And it’s easy to make fun of...

It reminds me a bit of something I’ve heard from loved ones who are tough to get a gift for, “I don’t want any ‘thing’ for my birthday, I just want us to be together, I just want us all to be together.”  Heather’s said this before...and clarified, “I don’t want to be sent away from the family, to a spa for the day or a retreat alone: I just want us all to be together.”  My dad talked this way a lot also...

Of course there’s no “just” about it, like it’s something easy or flippant.  It’s a bold desire.  How hard it is for families to “be” together, even when it’s possible physically.  So much strife amid families, so much history, and pent up bad/sad memories.  So many ongoing disagreements...on philosophies of parenting, or on politics or religion, or life choices.  It’s so hard to “just” be together, in peace, isn’t it…

And yet there are those among us, in this world and in our communities, who continue to call us back together — not idly and dreamily, but boldly and lovingly, calling us back to the fold, back to the community, back to the earth, back to a healthy life and a full life and a life together.  They’re like New Testament prophets encouraging us:  Stay together sisters and brothers in Christ, live kindly and peaceably with one another.  Love one another.

This is what Jesus prays for us today...and far beyond just our immediate family to come together.  Jesus too prays (boldly not dreamily), “I want the family to be together, in peace, and I’m going to be there too.  I’m not going anywhere,” Jesus says to us.  “Don’t send me off to some spa or retreat in the clouds.  I’m staying right here with you, no matter what you have to say about.  I’ll be here in water and word, wheat and wine.  I’ll be here in the faces of both friends and strangers alike.  I’m not going anywhere,” Jesus tells us today. 

Christ. Is. Here. Today.  Loving us, friends.  Praying for us.  (Not sure we think of Jesus praying for us, but here it is, today in the Gospel of John.)  And Christ isn’t going anywhere.  Praying that we come together, cross the divides, have the tough conversations, and greet one another in peace and joy. 

—

I want to shift over to this First Lesson that Michelle read from Acts...because there we have some pretty graphic imagery of family not coming together, of family bickering, not just that, but family hurting each other:  great story from Acts!

Paul and Silas...get annoyed...cast out “the spirit of divination”...upset the business establishment...upset the way things are done.  That’s Part 1 of this account. 

Then they get thrown in prison.  And here’s where we see glimpses of God working and bringing the most unlikely of people together:  the prisoners and the prison guards.  My friend’s dad was a prison guard, and I’ve heard and can certainly imagine that it’s rough in there.  That’s understatement, right?  And yet the other stories I’ve heard, kindnesses that take place, perhaps few and far between.  Perhaps not.  That’s the Spirit working in the unlikeliest of places.  People crossing the divides.  And that’s what happens in this reading for today.  Paul and Silas (the prisoners), befriend and even baptize the prison guard and his whole household!  

They even stay after an earthquake sets them free!

And can you see Jesus‘ prayer almost hovering over this whole scene?  Like when 2 brothers finally reconcile after years of fighting.  Like when 2 sisters finally have the tough conversation that ends in happy tears and a long embrace.  

Have you ever seen this in your own life?  It’s rare.  

And like in the text, sometimes it takes a disaster, like an earthquake, to catalyze the reconciliation, but when peace finally comes into a family’s (or a congregation’s or a community’s) dynamic, it is no small moment.  When after years of being at each others throats, calling each other names, arguing and fighting, or going long spells without ever even talking, when finally peace comes and settles into a family’s dynamic...there’s Jesus‘ prayer for unity and peace and presence, hovering over the whole scene.  It’s no small thing.  It is a gift.  Pure grace.

Friends in Christ, here in our final week of the Easter Season,  here at the beginning of summer, here at the end of one chapter and the start of another, God is here.  And God’s not going anywhere.  God through Christ prays for us today.  Prays for love, longs for us to reconcile with one another, to forgive one another, as we have been forgiven.  That’s the big Christian question, I believe:  

“HOW’S FORGIVENESS GOING FOR YOU?”

     (you forgiving others, yourself...you receiving forgiveness...)  

God is here as we struggle with that, holding us like a strong parent, calming us down.  As we struggle to shed our anger and our resentment, our bitterness and our remorse.  Christ isn’t going anywhere, off to a heavenly spa in clouds.  Christ is right here with us as we struggle.  Christ is right here with us in our pain, in our loneliness.  Christ is right here in our both in our joy and especially in our sorrow.  

This God knows pain (remember the Good Friday cross), this God comes and waits (and wades) with us through our pain.  This God holds us, and gives us hope, gives us peace...  

And we are made one; we are together...this day.

In Jesus’ name.  AMEN.

May 26 -- Sixth Sunday of Easter

Oh no!  Now Paul has had a vision!  (Remember last week when Peter had a vision—and everything changes?)  What an energetic and open group of people that must have been accompanying Paul, the way Acts 16 is narrated — “When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them.”

And so they set sail from Troas, to Samothrace, to Neapolis and from there to Philippi.  That’s their missionary journey.  How’s yours looking this week?  You know you’re all Christ’s missionaries, right?!

From where will you set sail this week, and where will your visions lead you this coming days, weeks, months?  How would you record your missionary journeys?  God’s calling some of us downtown, across the river or the tracks, maybe over borders, and maybe over to visit a friend’s house (or maybe someone who’s definitely not your favorite person) to offer comfort and support…

“During the night, ____ had a vision: there stood a man on the corner of Braddock and Backlick, pleading with her and saying, come over to the city and help us.  And when she had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over into downtown, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to the people there.  We set sail from Bethlehem’s parking lot, and took a straight course to the steps of the U.S. Senate building, which is the leading city in the district.  The following day we went to visit an aging friend who was lonely and from there we continued on…”  Something like that?  

Sound crazy, all this talk of visions?  A little irrational?  Maybe so.  One of the saints of the last congregation I served: Betty C..  Easter finest, we had brass instruments that that Sunday, and everything was intended to be glorious, to blow the roof off.  That’s when I first changed the seats to be in the round a way of surprising, shocking everyone.  It was a shock, I thought, and great symbolism in the Christian community gathering in a circle, equidistant from one another, looking at each other…

Betty, as she appeared to me after the service was unimpressed and un-phased really by any of the shock and awe of Easter fabulous-ness.  She just says to me quietly after the service, pointing over to this overgrown plot of land, “Pastor, I had a vision:  Why don’t we have a garden over there and grow food for hungry people?”

--

Before long, we had “set sail” from a clump of dirt and weeds, took a straight course to organizing, and in several months we had crossed over to 12 small plots where fruits and vegetables and herbs grew, 6 fruit trees, 8 families, a girl scout troupe, a preschool class, our Sunday School class, and members of our community, not even affiliated with our worship on Sunday (gasp!) all planting and growing food out in that deserted spot that Betty had re-imagined.  We set sail from a clump of dirt and weeds, and now there’s a garden, a community garden...

--

Our reading from Revelation this morning says “the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.”  Imagine the healing of the nations, friends in Christ.  It’s gotta start with a vision, with imagination.  If you could paint or draw or write a song about or act that that out—the healing of the nations—how would you do that?  For some, maybe they see the healing of the nations—in their Holy-Spirit-inspired minds’s eye—as a community garden.  

Where will our visions from God take us?    

We set sail from here...wherever “here” is for you.  Sometimes it’s not a pretty place, and we’re game for an adventure.  Other times, it’s very comfortable and beautiful and yet God calls us out of that comfort zone (that tireless Easter image).  

And look what happens to Paul and his companions!  In this story today, they are taken in!  They are taken care of!  Despite the insane risks they take, one vision and they’re off!  But they meet this woman of considerable means named Lydia.  Who offers them safety in a strange land, hospitality and welcome.  Who knew? 

Have you met any Lydias lately?  They are angels among us.  When we risk the missionary journey — whether we’re traveling downtown to help out at a soup kitchen or across the world or across the living room—when we take the risk and make the missionary journey, sometimes we’re met by Lydias — amazing people out there, ready to welcome us in, perhaps even ready to be baptized along the waters’ edge!  [pause]

And when we risk the missionary journey, oftentimes there is trouble too — resistance, threat, loss, pain, sorrow.  

But this is always where God calls us and needs us to go.  To set sail from clumps of dirt and weeds.  

The Rev. Dr. Ben Stewart, preaching prof at LSTC reminds us that we are “earth creatures”, dry clumps of dirt and weeds, but God takes us, and sets us to sail by breathing life into us.  And off we go, into this life, filled with God’s spirit/breath/wind (all the same word in Hebrew (ruach).  And look where we go!  

Where will God’s spirit/wind/breath blow you this week?  

Maybe you’ll meet a Lydia, and maybe you won’t.  But no matter what, friends in Christ, know that you will ultimately be taken in, cared for.  For you are a child of God.

Hear Jesus‘ words again from the Gospel of John: [slow] “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Peace I give to you.”  

We set sail, because when God gives us that holy CPR, we can’t help but live with gusto, live with spirit, live with vision, live like the new Jerusalem has dropped right on top of Fairfax, Virginia.  When God gives us CPR, when God blows into us spirit/wind/breath, we can’t help but live like the Tree of Life is growing right there in our front yards. (If you have a tree or a plant in your front yard, give thanks for it, and let it be a reminder for you of the beautiful passage from Revelation.) Right there in our own house, apartment, townhouse, trailer or cabin are images of the healing of the nations.  Your home, your dwelling place is a place of God’s healing!  That’s what God breathing life into you and me does for us, it turns everything around, it raises the dead, it hydrates the dry ground, it causes fruit to grow...for healing sake.  That’s what happens when God’s vision sets us to sail.

God, through Christ, sets you to sail this day in love and forgiveness, in peace and joy.  

So off we go!  

--

Memorial Day Sunday Prayer

We praise you, eternal God, for the devoted sacrifice of your servants who have laid down their lives that we might live. Into your holy keeping we commend them and humbly pray that we, like they, may give generously and never count the cost, asking no reward except the knowledge of your abiding love.

Almighty and everlasting God, whose providence guides your people in diligent service, bless the officers and enlisted women and men of the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, and Coast Guard as they perform the duties of their calling. Give them not only true love of country but also love of you and an understanding of your love for all people; so that, relying upon your guidance, they may courageously defend our nation from every foe, promote justice, honor, and unity among our people, and be a means of fostering mutual respect and understanding among all peoples of the world; through Jesus Christ, your Son and our Lord.

Amen.

(adapted from ELW Prayer Book for the Armed Services)

May 19 -- Fifth Sunday of Easter

Grace to you and peace, friends, from our risen savior Jesus Christ. AMEN.

Yesterday at our service for Pat and Ro Frodigh, I reflected a bit on this same Gospel text, so this morning I’m going to look at the first lesson from the book of Acts.
—
Peter has a clear understanding of what the right thing to do is.  He’s known his whole life.  Peter was raised by good observant Jewish parents, Peter himself has observed the Jewish laws.  He has, for the most part, eaten and lived and made distinctions appropriately throughout his life.  And then he meets a Jewish rabbi named Jesus, and continues to practice the Jewish customs and rituals. Even after the resurrection.  Peter was Jewish, even as he followed and preached and healed in the name of Jesus.  The name Christian had not really emerged; Peter was still Jewish...just as Jesus was always Jewish.  And that meant practicing certain rules and customs that set Jews apart from the rest of the culture.  What rules and customs do we/you practice that set us/you apart from the rest of the culture?  (Praying at meals, going to church on Sunday, tithing, Ash Wednesday, non-violence?)

For Peter, eating certain foods was forbidden.  It was unclean.  It was against the law.  For it represented a wiping away of distinctions, and blending, an unclean blending and mixing with the culture of the day.  (BTW, I love how the Jews-of-Peter’s-day paid such close attention to what they put into their bodies, not just (or maybe not at all) as a matter of health, but as a matter of religious practice.)

It was all about making distinctions between Jews and Gentiles, between us and them.  And Peter was observant, he was keeping the law...always had.
Imagine, doing something, believing something, one way, the same way, your whole life.  That’s how Peter had practiced/observed...his whole life, the same way.  And he was old!
—
That’s a little background.  And our text in Acts today picks up when the “apostles and believers” — the other insiders — call Peter out:  “We’ve heard that you’ve been going to, talking to, mingling with, DINING with Gentiles!  What’s going on?”  So Peter shares what had happened to him.  That he had had a vision from God…

How many of you have ever had a vision from God, that totally changed the way you thought about something?

It was a couple years ago that I took my Confirmation kids at that time up to camp — a great class of 5 kids — and as you probably know, it’s a great chance to minister alongside other pastors and youth directors...all people that are passionate about the faith development of our kids.  We teach side by side in the mornings with the camp counselors, and then in the afternoon, when the kids are doing the fun camp stuff, we have some time to visit with each other about life and ministry.  I love it, especially as a chance to get to know some older, seasoned pastors from around our church.  Rare experience, to get away, to relax a little bit, and share and enjoy God’s creation, etc…

That summer 2012 I got to know a pastor who I had met once or twice before, but who I really didn’t know that well, other than that he was my best friend Brain’s pastor when he was growing up in Salinas, CA.  I had heard stories second hand through Brian, how wonderful and kind he was.  How much he loved the church, loved music, and cared for the youth of the church all those years.  His name is Wendell Brown.

I thought that he had retired at that time, but that summer, he was apparently serving at Hope Lutheran in Atascadero (central California), a good distance from Salinas.  And he and I got paired together as a teaching team with two counselors, and so we would talk a little about the lessons, and then work and play with the kids.  And one afternoon we’re playing ping-pong together and we get to talking.

As we’re talking about our congregations, and our experiences, at some point, I simply ask him why he had moved from Salinas to Atascadero.   Just a basic chit-chat question, right?  Pastor Wendell Brown responds by saying, “Well, God gave me a vision.”  This old time Lutheran pastor, solid head on his shoulders, solid credentials, a life of solid ministry — I’m sure BLC and any congregation would love Pastor Brown...up until this point.  But he wasn’t ashamed, or forceful about it, but I was asking and he tells me plainly: He had had a vision, and it was from God, and it changed everything.  This dear man’s credibility is getting a little crumbly for me, at this point, but my interest is solid rock.  I gotta hear this, right?  (And BTW he gave me permission to share this story.)    

Apparently Pastor Brown was not beloved by everyone in the Northern California synod over the past 30 years.  I had no idea, but Wendell Brown was a name at Synod Assemblies that  everyone knew meant staunchly anti-gay.  When conversation got heated on the Assembly floor, Wendell Brown was the name at the fore in the Sierra Pacific Synod.  He was the one at the microphone, with tears in his eyes and a bible in his hand, saying, if we accept gay and lesbian pastors into our churches we are breaking with the Bible and breaking with God.

He had had the passion and the certitude of Peter and Paul combined.  He had the Bible study clear in his mind, the certain verses set in stone in his heart, he had the majority of the people on his side (at that time), he was a champion and a warrior, and he wasn’t about to sit back and let his church go down this “liberal” road.

(I actually know a gay pastor from that area, and I’ve since asked him about Wendell Brown, and he shutters just at the thought of the man and what he stood for at assemblies.)

But about 2 years before our meeting in 2012, Wendell Brown went away on a retreat, just he and his wife.  And he started reading, and he started reading scripture.  This man knows the Bible backwards and forwards, but he started reading Acts again, and he read this passage for today, and something started to shake him from the very core, and he had a vision, and he was sure it was from God, and I WISH I could tell you what that vision was.  I’ve been trying to contact him this week to get the details.  What I remember is, his reaction to vision, and the exploding of this text: “What God has made clean, you must not call profane...who was I that I could hinder God?” Peter cries in Acts.  Weeping and weeping was PWB’s response!  This is a good stoic German Lutheran older man.  But he’s melting down before God.  He’s looking back at all the things he’s said and done, and questioning it all.  He’s looking back at scripture and seeing it in a whole new way.  He’s feeling called to go back to his dear congregation, and tell them what’s happened to him...in joyful, post-resurrection, Easter energy — that he’s been wrong about his stance on gay and lesbian pastors and the LGBTQ community in general.  How he had a vision from God, and while he suspected he’d find some resistance back home, he had to go and tell his beloved congregation, no matter what it costs him.

Needless to say, Pastor Wendell Brown loses all kinds of support back at Good Shepherd Lutheran in Salinas.  That’s putting it lightly:  People felt betrayed.  I mean,
people had joined that church — that church had grown by leaps and bounds over the years — because of his previous stance. And now he’s saying something totally different!

You can just imagine the un-doing, the fall out.  But he had no doubt in his mind, that this was what he had to do.  He ended up being edged out of that congregation, which he had served for almost 20 years.  (Long answer to my question, huh?)
—
I was with Brian this week in MN (preaching conference; Brian’s a pastor in SoCal), and we talked about ol’ Pastor Brown again.  Brian added to this and told me that there was a beautiful exchange that took place at his ordination reception, where both Pastor Wendell Brown and Brian’s uncle—who was the gay pastor who had often gone head-to-head with Pastor Brown at synod assemblies—were present!  Apparently at the water, the water cooler (great baptismal image), Pastor Brown: “Do you remember me?”  Uncle Howard: “Yes.”  Pastor Brown:  “I had a vision.  And I am so sorry.  And I am with you now.”

Friends, I’ve never heard a story quite like this.  Where an older, settled, deeply rooted man has a complete change of heart, mind and (I’d say) soul...and the courage to act in life-altering ways in response to that vision.  I leave it to you to determine whether his vision came from God, or from somewhere else.  Personally, I find this to be a modern-day parallel to Peter’s vision...only on a much smaller scale.  Because, frankly, our contemporary controversies in recent decades around human sexuality, pale in comparison with the Jew-Gentile issues with which the apostles were dealing!

Still, sisters and brothers in Christ, know that the Holy Spirit is still working in our lives in this Easter season and always.  Who are we to hinder God?
Know that the Holy Spirit is still working on us, here at BLC, in our individual and communal lives.  Who are we to hinder God?

Pay attention to your dreams and visions.  Know that God is still speaking in our lives, in many and various ways.
This is our God!

A God who’s Gospel shakes down the Law.

A God, whose cup of grace never runs dry,

A God who makes us new day after day, regardless of our age, or our life-long convictions.

A God who carries us through our darkest days, who forgives us our past iniquities, and lifts us up now to be the people that we are called, blessed, baptized and sent to be in this hurting and broken world.

That God “was there to hear your borning cry,” invites us to the water, the table, and goes with us now and always.  AMEN.