Unity with Country, a Lenten Sermon

An introduction, then a sermon…

Our church has Wednesday evening communion services during Advent and Lent. You may recall that we just passed through Lent on our way to Easter. So, prior to that, I got a call from one of our lay leaders who was helping to organize the services, wondering if I would come preach and preside one evening. I checked my calendar and found I was only available on one Wednesday - March 28. She said that sounded great and we put it on our calendars.

Later, I talked with my pastor colleague who is the liaison for these services. She shared that the theme for the series was “Unity.” We’d be hearing about unity with our selves, unity with others, etc. I asked her what I had drawn by virtue of the day. My topic – Unity with Country. So here goes...

Scripture – Luke 20:20-26 (see also Matthew 22:15-22, Mark 12:13-17)

So they watched him (Jesus) and sent spies who pretended to be honest, in order to trap him by what he said, so as to hand him over to the jurisdiction and authority of the governor. So they asked him, "Teacher, we know that you are right in what you say and teach, and you show deference to no one, but teach the way of God in accordance with truth. Is it lawful for us to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?" But he perceived their craftiness and said to them, "Show me a denarius. Whose head and whose title does it bear?" They said, "The emperor's." He said to them, "Then give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." And they were not able in the presence of the people to trap him by what he said; and being amazed by his answer, they became silent.

This is a really hard subject for me. How are you supposed to be united with something that is so divided? Now, especially, as 4 Republicans seek a presidential nomination and 1 Democrat seeks re-election, we get to witness just how divided we can become as Americans. How is it that our states hold together? How do California and Mississippi agree to co-exist under one set of laws? How does Texas find common ground with New York except that we share semi-common geography?

I will confess that I don’t enjoy election years. It’s just plain unpleasant. It’s tempting to duck my head down, ignore what’s happening in the stratosphere of politics, and just go about my everyday life. But I know that we have a unique challenge and calling as Americans who find their identity in Christ.

When I first felt called by God to serve in some way, it was through the ministry of a military chaplain. It was right after the war in Afghanistan started and I realized how far from God that could feel, far from friends and family, being asked to do the things you had done in training, but never imagined really doing.

I don’t know why I pursued this form of ministry, except that it was the open door that I could see. Having not seen many women in ministry in the local church, I had a hard time seeing myself as a pastor. So, I served 2 summers as a chaplain candidate, learning about the Air Force, its mission, and how to minister to airmen. It was a powerful experience to see the young men and women who had dedicated their lives to this way of life. And I also knew it wasn’t for me.

I chafed against so many rules. Now, I’m not naïve – I know why they’re there. They need folks to obey because in many circumstances it could be life-saving. But I have a hard time in such an authoritarian structure. I realized I really didn’t like being away from my family for long stretches of time. And I realized that I deeply missed the local church.

I feel like I have a great appreciation for the structure of our country, even with all its very human failings. Even without the butter bars of a second lieutenant on my shoulders, I have a certain amount of power based on nothing I’ve done but be born here. I am an American adult in 2012. That gives me access and voice that most people around the world will never know.

I had a conversation with a First Meal guest this past Sunday. His name is John. He is African-American and an actor who regularly appears at the theatre in town. He was expressing his dissatisfaction with the events surrounding the death of Trayvon Martin. Outside the justice issue at the heart of this, he said, “I get so tired of black people stopping at city hall.”

I heard what he was saying – he was tired of actions that gain media attention for a while, but ultimately do nothing. So I did something that I rarely do – I owned my white-ness. This is something we rarely talk about, but I will tell you now what I told him then – I know I’m white. And I know that that’s not right, but it’s the way it is in this time and place. So I vowed to him as I’ve vowed to God many times - to do whatever I can to work for justice.

When I was at Perkins School of Theology, one of the capstone projects of a seminary education there was writing your credo – your masterpiece of 30 pages or less that sums up your understanding of Christian doctrine. I recall that in my section on God, I focused on 2 attributes among the many available – omnipotent, eternal, omniscient, etc. etc. In my understanding of God, 2 attributes were most real to me – God’s love and God’s justice.

They really are just flipsides of the same thing. God loves us. God loves us all. And unlike human parents who may not be able to help but love one child a shade more or differently than another, God loves us all the same. Which is abounding, outpouring, and free.

But God is also just. God wants us all to have enough. And in our Scriptures we can see those times when God shakes things up for those who have hoarded away too much while denying those who have too little.

In our Scripture reading for today, Jesus neatly sidesteps a clever trap set for him by the religious authorities. He’s made his triumphant entry into Jerusalem and now the Pharisees, the Herodians, or the chief priests and scribes (depending on if you are reading Matthew, Mark, or Luke) are looking for a reason to take him down because he is a threat to their power.

So they’ve created a trap. These spies come with flattery that is actually true – Jesus is right in what he says and teaches. He shows deference to no one, but teaches the way of God in accordance with truth. Literally, the idiom here is that Jesus doesn’t “receive faces” – he makes no distinction between persons. God is loving and God is just.

As it says in Matthew 5 - "You have heard that it was said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others?”

So Jesus offers them an answer that amazes them, silences them, and (according to Matthew), makes them leave him and go away. Jesus says, “Then give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's.”

I can’t help but love Jesus a little more at this point. You give the emperor what is the emperor’s and God what is God’s. It begs the question – and what is God’s?

It’s such a wonderful answer because it sidesteps the trap – if he had said you don’t pay taxes he would have been a popular revolutionary of the people and if he had said you do pay taxes, he could have lost his following and looked like a Roman lackey. Instead, he questions our priorities and true allegiances.

We have a unique challenge and calling as Americans who find their identity in Christ. We put on Christ in baptism. That’s why we only use our first and middle names in baptism – our family name becomes Christian.

And as members of the family, we are called to be loving and just. In following this calling, I refuse to be silent or ignore the things outside my ordinary sphere. I’ll pay taxes and serve on a jury and obey the laws, all the while working for change in the things that are not loving or just.

I pray God gives me the strength and courage to speak for the marginalized and oppressed when they are too scared or powerless to speak for themselves. And I pray fervently that there will be day when our country and all others experience God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven – even if it means giving away some of my power and privilege that I enjoy today. Because it’s loving and just.

That’s who we are called to be as God’s sons and daughters. Let us remember who we are and whose we are this Lent and always.

4th grade theology

A couple of weeks ago, I got the children’s ministry newsletter in my inbox. At the top was a desperate plea for teachers. Our children’s ministry does a very cool rotation model for elementary Sunday school. The children learn a story for 6 weeks, reinforced through different ways of engaging – cooking, drama, art, music, etc.

Since I’ve transitioned out of youth ministry, I no longer have a regular commitment during the Sunday school hour, so I e-mailed the children’s ministry coordinator to offer to sub. Sunday before last I had drama with the kindergartners, which was a blast, even though the Scripture we were covering was Peter’s denial of Christ. This week, same curriculum, but 4^th graders were coming to my room.

First, it was a very small class, what with this Sunday being at the beginning of spring break. No problem, I decided to myself that rather than break into two groups to act out pieces of Scripture, we’d do it all together. But my good intentions never came about.

In the midst of decorating crosses and drawing ocean scenes for a VBS t-shirt contest, some deep questions started to come out.

·         Why do we have a cross for Jesus? Isn’t that where he died? It doesn’t seem right.

·         Where is the devil? I heard someone say he’s in the middle of the earth since it’s hot down there.

·         Isn’t the devil a bad angel?

·         If someone doesn’t believe in God, but never does bad things, do they go to the devil?

·         Why do people think God is a boy?

I tried to take them as they came, seriously but in terms understandable for their age and stage. Here are my efforts (with their help in parentheses):

Why do we have a cross for Jesus? Isn’t that where he died? It doesn’t seem right.

I’ve wondered why we have a cross for Jesus, too. But here’s the thing, is Jesus still on the cross? (No) That reminds us how even death can’t stop God. Jesus died on the cross, which is a very painful death, and was buried in a tomb. But 3 days later – BOOM! – the rock rolled aside and Jesus was alive again, he was resurrected. And then he was seen by his disciples and taught them some more things before going back to God.

Where is the devil? I heard someone say he’s in the middle of the earth since it’s hot down there.

I think it’s hard to put a specific location on spiritual things. We tend to think heaven is up and hell is down, but our spaceships have never bumped into heaven. I think spiritual things work differently. I also think this is important when some people say hell is in the earth – who made the earth? (God!) That’s right. And what did God say after God had made everything? (It was good.) That’s right, too. So everything that is created, from you and me to the horse to the earth, starts out very, very good. So it would be weird to me to think that hell is somewhere inside the earth.

Isn’t the devil a bad angel?

From what I can remember this morning, there’s really not very much about the devil in our Bible. There’s much more in there about God and us and how we’re supposed to be in relationship. Some people have written a lot of other stories about the devil, since people always wonder about how things work, why bad things happen, etc. But one of the places I remember that is about the devil is in Job, when the hasatan, or the tester – someone who tests you, goes to God to talk about Job. Hasatan is a title, a role, but it is also where we get the word Satan. The hasatan’s job is to test people. So he asks God to test Job, to see if Job would still be faithful to God if he didn’t have his wife and children and camels, in other words, if he didn’t have everything a person could want. But that is a hard book, so let’s talk about that more later.

If someone doesn’t believe in God, but never does bad things, do they go to the devil?

Well, we all do some bad things, but you mean they haven’t killed anyone, they don’t steal – they’re not any better or worse than most of us. I get that. So there are lots of different thoughts on these things, but here is what Pastor Jessica thinks – I know God loves us. God loves us a lot. God wants to be in a relationship with us. And I can’t imagine God ever turning away from us or sending us somewhere away from God. It’s good to believe in God because it lets you enjoy a little bit of heaven now – you can have joy, peace, love, and incredible strength and comfort from knowing that God is with you. If you don’t believe in God, the world can be a lot scarier.

But if you don’t believe in God, I think when you die you go to work all that out with God. And, of course, you can keep choosing not to believe in God, which I think is what hell is like. Just because you choose not to believe in God, doesn’t mean God is not there. It’s like closing your eyes. Just because you can’t see the light, doesn’t mean it’s not there. But a lot of these things are a mystery. I don’t know exactly how they work, but I know that God does.

Why do people think God is a boy?

That is a good question! Back in the day, back in Bible times, who were really powerful people? (…pause…kings?) Right! Kings had lots of power and they were boys. Every once in a while there was a queen, but most of the time it was a king. Physically, boys are built to be stronger, so they were the ones who could get their way and make themselves the bosses. People wanted a strong king so he could protect the people from other people. So when they talked about God, it was natural to talk about God as a mighty king.

But there are also other images for God. God is described like a mother hen gathering her chicks under her wings. And there’s also this part in our Bible

Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.' So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)

So, what does God look like? (…pause…like Jesus?) Yes, but who else…it says “male and female he created them.” (So, God looks like me? says a girl) Yes, we all look like God. All people are made to look like God. (God has a wife?) No, God doesn’t have a wife. God made us to look like God, boys and girls. (I don’t think God is a boy or a girl.) I think God is probably beyond things like that, too, but God is very creative and made us all a little different, but we all look like God. It may not be what we look like on the outside that’s most important, but how we love others that makes us look most like God.


By the end of the hour, we hadn't done very much of what I had planned. And it was completely and entirely good. I thanked the children for their questions and encouraged them to keep asking. I let them know that many times adults stop asking questions because they think they're supposed to have the answers already, which doesn't feel good. I was amazed and humbled by the children's good questions and willingness to dig around to uncover more about God. It was such a good morning. What a gift for a pastor to be a substitute elementary Sunday school teacher!

Realizing you're there

I always have goals for my life – a metaphorical there to reach. Usually the details are not too specific, but the overall destination is important, for example finishing college (while not passionate about any particular major), getting a good job (that I really liked, hopefully), getting and staying married, continuing to learn (many things!), becoming a mom, etc. While I do like being in control of things, I’m also not a very disciplined person, so I tend to try to head fearlessly in the direction of my dreams, flying by the seat of my procrastinating pants most of the time.

And I’m always looking to the trailblazers. Growing up, I’d never seen a clergywoman, so I never imagined myself where I am now. But when we moved to Texas and I got a job as a secretary at a United Methodist church, I saw clergywomen doing what God called them to do. And I was inspired! Perhaps you could be a wife, mom, amazing woman and pastor. I was finally able to see what God had intended where before I had been blind to the opportunity.

In the ordination process, a whole new set of destinations were created for me – inquiring, exploring, declared and certified candidate (I know I’m dating myself here), seminary admission, completion, and graduation (preferably with some sort of honors), commissioning and ordination amidst the topsy-turvy process in itself of appointments. So I set out for there.

Sometime in seminary, a friend invited me to the clergywomen’s group that met for lunch. It was so amazing to see all these women, varied and beautiful and wise, who had all made it there. They talked about appointments, General Conference, the history of women in ministry in our conference. They reflected on holding the hands of the dying, the baby being baptized, and the Bible as they preached. They were amazing and I was grateful for these embodied glimpses of there.

So, as I posted earlier, I was recently at another one of these clergywomen’s lunches. I was running a bit late and as I entered, juggling a fast food lunch and drink and purse while fumbling with the door knob, I looked for those familiar wise and gracious faces. I saw them, but it was different – well, there were my friends and compatriots from seminary – and over there was the pastor from the church nearby who organizes local clergy get-togethers – but I was missing the women I had seen when I first came to these lunches. Where were the women who were there?

We went around the tables, introducing ourselves, and as we applauded those who had just been passed for commissioning and ordination, my mind startled in realization. I was there! Could it really be? I took stock – yup, I’m an honest-to-goodness elder in full connection doing hands-on ministry that’s a blessing and a challenge each and every day. Oh, and I’m actually serving on the clergywomen’s leadership team. I’m there. When did that happen?

The night I was ordained, the bishop laid hands on my head, praying the Spirit’s blessing on me, as I knelt in heels and my clergy robe, and then had a stole draped over my shoulders my two of the pastors I admire most as my mother and husband stood nearby. I smiled and talked with my friends afterwards, then drove home to change into my pajamas, wash the dishes, and go to bed, ready for another day of conference business the next day. It’s not as glamorous as what some of my friends did, so maybe I need to be better about celebrating it when I get there. But, honestly, there doesn’t look all that different once you’re there. It’s just another day to love life and live it fully.

The Way Death Comes

Last Thursday I attended a conference clergywomen’s lunch. We were asked to break into small groups to discuss how we were observing a holy Lent and what our churches were doing to do the same, especially any neat ideas or innovations. Well, I can tell you the first is a giant fail for me this year. I shared that with the group with the offhand remark that Ash Wednesday is probably my least favorite day of the Christian year, except maybe Good Friday.

My clergy sisters seemed shocked. “Really? Why?” was the general follow-up. I don’t know. Who wants to be reminded of their mortality? And who really wants to walk to the cross? I know why we do it, I know it’s healthy, but I don’t have to like it.

I was surprised that my sentiments were so unusual. Do some people really love these holy days of remembering death? Maybe I was younger than usual when I realized the reality of mortality. I remember lying awake in bed as the shadows crept around the room, feeling utterly small and alone, knowing that one day my heart would stop, my breath would cease, and something of what it was to be me would no longer exist. That’s a scary thought for a child, and some of that remembered fear colors my thoughts on it even now.

Most of the time you don’t know it’s coming. Death, that is. Well, sure you know that it comes to everyone, but most of the time, it’s the last thing on my mind. At the Large Church Initiative in January, Mike Slaughter, pastor of Ginghamsburg United Methodist Church near Dayton, Ohio, said that he always tries to pretend that he has one year left to live and then live into the boldness that inspires. And that sounds good to me, on the surface, but if I really knew I only had a year to live, I think I’d be depressed for a good long while. I’d probably become rather me-focused, seeing as how I was the one who was going to die. But maybe not.

Recently I logged onto Caring Bridge, a great website that helps those with a medical issue keep friends and family updated without the continual barrage of phone calls. While I was there to read a church member’s page as he battles another round of leukemia, as I logged in, I was brought to my home page. Listed there was my page as well as the pages I’ve visited. My page is the one I created for my grandmother a little over 2 years ago. And because I’m a masochist, I guess, I clicked on the link and read it in chronological order.

My eyes teared up as I realized how deeply we didn’t know what we were in for. My grandmother, who had suffered for a long time with Alzheimer’s, had gone in to figure out what was going on with her stomach. I remember being frustrated since she couldn’t help us with this diagnosis – the cruel overarching disease prevented her from telling us simple details like where it hurt, when it had started, what the pains were like, did they come and go. So her family had to make their best guesses with medical advice.

We thought she was doing better after surgery. She was moved into a nursing home, set up with rehab exercises. I read my reassuring tone as I talk about a scrapbook project she is working on with a therapist. And then the next few entries detail the quick decline as one surgery led to another to repair things that had gone wrong. In a matter of days, she was gone.

My mother said afterward that if she had known what the eventual outcome would be, she wouldn’t have put my grandmother through so much. But there was no way for us to know. Death comes like that sometimes. It walks alongside of us, content to stay at arm’s length, until it is our turn. Sometimes it brushes across our shoulder by mistake and we shudder at the near miss, if we realize it. Or it claims someone dear to us and we cry out in distress.

I believe in God, but many times I wonder at the Christian doctrine of providence (see the post More Questions than Answers). Some people use it to say that if God’s protective hand is on you, no harm will come. Really?! Surely God did not abandon the early Christian martyrs or those who still die for their faith today. Some people say that a natural disaster or an illness is the fault of those afflicted because of their sinfulness. Really?! It couldn’t possibly be because we rape and ravage the earth such that paradise is showing the scars.

But I also know what it is to huddle in the bathroom, my arms around my infant son, as the sirens wail the warning that death is approaching from the clouds. And I prayed. O God, did I pray. I bargained and whispered and cried. But I don’t think that my prayers spared me or that God chose to turn the storm aside from my home. I just think it happened to work out that way. As I preached last week, God limits God’s own self for the sake of the free will and creativity of humanity, despite our proclivity for evil. While I’m still struggling with the story of Noah and the flood, I can see it more clearly in Jesus. God put limits on God’s self to show us the way, not force us.

Yesterday morning, a clergy sister and I discussed a church member’s passing. It was unusual in that he was very conscious just before it happened. She shared the gift it was to her to be able to ask him, “Are you at peace?” and offer any pastoral counsel he might desire. I thought about the funeral I led a little over a week ago, how I got to know the family and be alongside of them in a hard time, but how I felt guilty that the service lasted only around 30 minutes. Shouldn’t it take more time to honor a life? I know the family chose not to have much music and not share witnesses, since the grief was so fresh, but I felt that it was so little to offer. They hadn’t seen death coming, since she went into the hospital for one thing and was on her way to rehab before coming home. But death kept pace with her and claimed her from our sight.

I don’t like Ash Wednesday. I don’t like Good Friday. I don’t think I have to. But I take comfort, hope, and strength from the fact that God is alongside me, even as death counts my steps. And though my mortal strength shall fail and death shall try to claim me, I’ll sing on as I go to glory. Death, while not a welcome companion, has no final victory. That is God’s. Glory be.

Redemption at the Kitchen Sink

Last night, I was washing dishes, which is my usual nightly chore after James goes to bed. We’re grateful dishwasher users, but with his birth, there were so many things that had to be washed by hand and often, that this became one of my chores. And usually I hate it. I often resent things that require my time and discipline when all I really want to is sit, rest, recover from the day, and maybe even spend some time with my husband.

But that was not the case last night. Last night, I tied an apron around my waist and laughed to myself. I had asked for aprons for Christmas and am delighting in the 2 cute ones my cousin got me – one white with black polka dots and the other a cupcake design. I laughed because as grateful as I am not to completely soak my clothes with the help of these aprons, it’s funny to think of myself – a strong, independent pastor, here in the kitchen in a frilly, pretty apron doing the dishes. It seems like a contradiction.

I felt peace settle over me as I reminded myself – “Mountain pose at the front of your mat” – in this case, the padded mat in front of the sink – “Stand up tall, feet parallel to one another, breathe.” When I stand this way, rooted into the floor, the ground, the earth, the chore becomes less painful on my back.

I considered all these things, because if there’s one thing washing dishes is good for, besides getting tiny bowls, spoons, and sippy cups clean, it’s giving me a chance to think. Maybe there’s not so much discord between who I am and what I’m doing as there might appear. In this small act, I serve my family. I get things clean that need to be clean. I take upon myself the dirt and grime and wash it all away. And I am nothing less for this act of love.

In that moment, the kitchen sink was redeemed as a beautiful glimpse of the self-giving love of God. God deigned it worthwhile to take on a human life in order to wash, to clean, to renew us all. And while some theologians have called this incarnation in Jesus Christ to be the humiliation of God and the exaltation of humanity, I question the former.

Is God disgraced by being among us? It sounds just like the kind of stuff God always does – whether it’s a walk in the garden looking for the two kids or passing a prophet by on a mountainside – God moves in creation, in loving relationship, and is nothing less for it. The incarnation was a surpassingly unique and powerful way of showing us, all of us thick-headed mud creatures, that God is always that close even as God is entirely transcendent. God’s inherent, magnificent, mysterious nature is no more stooped in the incarnation than my more ordinary life is debased by doing some dishes. We’re both in the business of creating order out of chaos and getting things clean.

I know some folks might think that this metaphor is silly. They might think that I think too much of myself or too little of God because I catch a glimpse of how my life story is caught up in the grand story of creation in something so mundane. But I think it’s important.

While serving as a chaplain candidate in the Air Force, I asked some of the young men training to be Catholic priests why women couldn’t do the same. It wasn’t rude – we’d already done countless runs and push-ups together, helped each other over brick walls and through truly boring classes and demanding memorization – so we were ready to ask real questions and understand each other more. The guys explained that it was because a woman could not be imago Christi, that is in the image of Christ. Literally because Christ was male and all women were, well, female.

I understand the literal nature of this interpretation, even as I detest the limits it sets for half of humanity. So, I rejoice that I’m able to see myself and all my sisters in God’s glorious work, fully embracing our imago Dei, even in the mundane workings of life, from birth to death and all the dishes in between.

Christmas Lists & Dreams Deferred

I’ve been thinking about transition, dreams, and contentment a bit lately. It’s that time of year when my family asks me for a Christmas list because, for many of us, our love language is giving gifts. Or, at least, it’s one of our love languages, a way of saying, I value you, I treasure you, I want you to be happy.

So, my cousin contacted us to let us know that our lists were insufficient. Probably because my grandpa starts Christmas shopping in July. So last night, just before we turned in, my husband remarked, “I don’t know what else to ask for that’s not really expensive.” I thought for a moment, then named 5-6 things I could imagine he could want or need. We laughed at how well I knew him and how good I am at thinking of gifts. Then I asked him to try to do the same for me, since I don’t have any idea of what to add to my list either. He was stumped. I think his exact words were, “If I knew what you wanted, I would know what to get you every year.”

As I lay down, I pondered his words. Why is it that I don’t want things? Why is it that I can’t come up with a good list of things that can be ordered and wrapped and given? Honestly, I think it’s because I’m content with my life for the most part. I have everything I need and then some. Sure, we have recurring needs – diapers, wipes, food, gas, etc. – but not the kinds of things that most folks think make good gifts.

But I refuse this year to ask for wasteful things. In the past, I’ve filled up lists with books that look good that I’ve never read, movies I like but never sit down to watch, or music that sits dormant on an ancient iPod. There’s something within me that has known this was not right, but this year, is adamant in saying, “No!”

Perhaps it’s because I’m in a different place this year. I’ve now been a mom for over a year and my perspective has been radically, irrevocably changed. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been in transition for that year and am just now finding my footing again. The transition of my body that occurred during the birth of my son – that agonizing, amazing time – was only the beginning of this transition of my life.

Recently on Facebook, I’ve been reminded of the fragility of our lives and how many things can cause these transitions. A friend posted the other day that it was 2 months ago that his daughter was born, who has since died. Then today, a friend who had announced that they were expecting shared the hard news that they had miscarried. It all made me think of this poem:

“Harlem” by Langston Hughes

  What happens to a dream deferred?
      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore –
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over –
      like a syrupy sweet?

     Maybe it just sags
     like a heavy load.

     Or does it explode?

Sometimes transition comes on the heels of a dream deferred. And lately, in my experience, that has looked like the lives of children being tragically short. I look at my son, who laughs and plays and tries to run, feeling the precarious nature of things. Last week in youth, we talked about joy and I taught that joy is an abiding gift of God that is deeper than happiness. I wonder in those moments of watching my child, if I could still feel joy if something happened. I trust, by faith, that joy would still be waiting, like a deep pool of peaceful waters, beneath the tumult of trouble or despair.

But when you’re in transition – when all you can do is breathe and cry and curse and try to run from the inescapable pain that will not be denied because it is a part of you – it can be hard to know anything else. I pray for all of us that we will not dry up or fester or rot or become sickeningly sweet or sag or explode. I don’t believe that is the will of God. I believe the tragic times of transition in our lives are a byproduct of the broken, sinful world we live in. But I also believe that God is with us in the transition, no matter how painful, waiting expectantly to bring new life into being.

Take Our Lives and Let Them Be...

Two Sundays ago, on October 9, we had our drivers license covenant service to lift up and celebrate those youth who had gotten their license in the past year. This service grew up out of tragedy. Years ago, two young men in our church were involved in a very bad car accident and lost their lives. Since that time, we have conducted this service to celebrate a milestone but also to make clear the responsibility of joining the community of drivers.

Since July, I’ve been starting my third year in this pastorate. The first year, all young pastors are admonished to change nothing, so the service flowed as it had been designed in previous years. Then last year, I was out on maternity leave during the fall. But this year, with ordination around my shoulders, an intern on my staff, and a passion to do more and better, we revamped this service.

The first thing was to set the table. With the help of a congregant who owns a local salvage yard, I was able to get a tire, a steering column, and a dash from various cars. Then I put the cross in the center (where it should always be, right?) and three candles in front representing our triune God. I borrowed the licenses of all the adults present and placed them around the altar. A small bowl with the items our new drivers would be receiving – an ichthus keychain and a “dnt txt n drv” thumb ring – was put on top of the tire. One of our offering plates was placed front and center for use during the service.

Following a prayer for admission to the community of drivers, these newly licensed folks came and put their licenses in the offering plate. Then a youth read this scripture:

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. ⁵ Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. ⁶ Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ⁸ Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. ⁹ Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you. – Philippians 4:4-9

Then I gave a message which sounded something like this: This could easily be a time of admonishment – don’t speed, don’t be distracted while driving, etc. etc. But that’s what you’ve probably been hearing from everyone else. So tonight, I invite us to rejoice! You were one thing and now you are another and in the church, we rejoice when that happens. We see it in baptism – you were outside the church and now you have been washed and united to the Body of Christ. We see it in baptism – you were two separate people and now you have been united together. We see it in a funeral – you were here among us where we could see you and now you have gone on to glory in God. So, tonight, we have come to another one of those points – you were one thing, and now you’re another.

You are a driver. You are the wielder/director of massively engineered pieces of metal. Your status has changed to be a blessing to the community. Now you can be the one who asks another, “Do you need a ride to church?” Or maybe later in your life, “Let me drive you home.” You have the capability to move people and things from one place to another with speed and care. It’s amazing.

I never thought much about my own driving until I became a seminary student and put the sticker on my rear windshield “SMU: Perkins School of Theology.” I was so proud, so excited to be a seminary student. But then I realized that everyone knew exactly who I was, and whose I was, every time I drove. The person I pulled in front of, the person I sped past, the person I gave a dirty look – they all knew I wasn’t living up to who I said I was and who had claimed my life.

You’ve put your drivers licenses in the offering plate because you are offering that part of your life to God. No part of your life is out of God’s sight or reach or care. So, with that in mind, I would simply lift up a piece of our scripture reading – “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen, and the God of peace will be with you.”

I invited them to stand before the altar, to receive back their licenses, and to receive the keychains and rings with the words, “Remember who you are and whose you are.”

For those of us whose days and lives are so fragmented – a lot of work here, a little time for family there, a little time for self shoved off to the side – it’s hard to see our lives as whole offerings to God. But that’s what I’ve finally concluded is true.

Take my life, and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee.
Take my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands, and let them move at the impulse of they love.
Take my feet, and let them be swift and beautiful for thee.- UMH 399

Which makes this video funny to me, because it’s true, too: Wrong Worship. Or at least in our selfish, normal mindset it is. But God is always asking more of us – whole lives offered as living sacrifices on the altar – hands motivated by holy love – feet (and cars) quick to serve.