Well now, Abraham....not exactly father of the year material! Last week he sends Ishmael out into the desert and today he prepares to sacrifice Isaac. For a man who is inordinately concerned with having an heir he is certainly cavalier about his sons. Really....how many more sons can he expect from his ancient loins? Nevertheless, Abraham follows the voice of God, takes Isaac up the mountain, binds him and is ready to plunge a knife into his son's heart as a sacrifice to God. What kind of God is this? What kind of test is this? What kind of faith is this? Are we to worship a God, through Jesus who asks and expects us to kill? Is the point of our faith journey to overcome a series of tests to prove we are worthy?
The answer to that last question is a resounding NO! The point of our journey is to get to know God. Our bible is full of stories about people who did not understand God, who did not understand Jesus. The disciples were often confused and bewildered about just who this Jesus was. It seems as though no one except Jesus is really able to understand the God that Jesus came to show us until after the resurrection. So, it's not much of a surprise that Abraham would be confused about who God truly is. And, ps, Abraham did indeed pass the test. Not in the way we usually think about it, not by being willing to sacrifice his son and heir, but by finally hearing the TRUE voice of God, the voice of God that tells him to stop the insanity. That's the real take away message of this story, are we willing and able to hear the TRUE voice of God. The voice that says in Micah " I want mercy not sacrifice, I require that you do justice, love kindness and that you walk humbly with me". In order to do this we will have to commit our time, our energy, and most importantly our hearts to the journey that leads us to know God.
And, it's the knowing of God that is the bridge to our Gospel today. In the last few weeks we have heard Jesus preparing his disciples to carry on ministry without him. He's has given them authority over unclean spirits, authority to cure every disease and every sickness, and instructions to raise the dead. Jesus says "Go, proclaim the good news, the Kingdom of heaven has come near." You received without payment, give without payment. Then Jesus outlines for them how difficult this will be. He tells them they will be handed over to governors and kings. They will be flogged in their synagogues and betrayed by their own families. Only people who truly know God and clearly hear the voice of Jesus would attempt the journey that the disciples are beginning.
Now, all of what Jesus says will happen is scary enough. But....I think the really scary part is what we heard today, it's scarier than being flogged and scarier than being betrayed. Today Jesus says that people need to meet him through us! Matthew says that there needs to be a radical consistency between the Jesus we proclaim and ourselves. Who would ever believe the good news from someone who doesn't walk the walk, someone who doesn't feed the poor, visit the prisoner, comfort the sick and sit with the dying?
Jesus democratized his power and his responsibilities. God's power is now at work not only in Jesus but in and through his disciples, and in and through us. Three times Jesus says "those who receive" and that tells us there is no middle ground, we will either receive Jesus or reject him, and, as Jesus here on earth, we will either be received or rejected. That's all well and good, but there is more. We also have the power and the choice to receive or reject the Christ that appears to us in others.
When we generously and lovingly welcome all others, no exceptions, we are also welcoming God in Christ. It is one of those things that we must get out of ourselves and into God in order to do. Our task is to abundantly attend to the Christ in everyone. Christ in the stranger, Christ in the smelly and dirty, Christ in the mentally ill, Christ in the poor, Christ in the angry and bitter, Christ in the criminal, Christ in the homeless. Because only then, only when we see the Christ in everyone, when we regard everyone as Christ, only then do they have a chance to see the Christ who is in us. Only then can they begin to receive us, receive Jesus and receive the One who sent him.
Later in Matthew Jesus says " I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you took care of me. The righteous will ask " when Lord did we do all those things". Jesus replies "When you did it to one of the least of these you did it to me". There is no clearer statement of our absorption into the body of Christ.
Jesus was sent by God. Jesus sent the disciples and Jesus sends us to proclaim by word and deed the coming of God's kingdom here on earth. We not only proclaim the kingdom, we are the instruments, through Christ, by which the kingdom comes. We are sent! We are missionaries! There is no other way to be the church! Amen.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Funeral Homily for Ian Michael Libglid June 28, 2014
Give rest O Christ, to your servant, with your saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.
These are the words we will recite later in this morning’s service as we commend Ian’s soul back to God. I find the words comforting in times of loss—today Ian is at rest in the company of all the saints. He has taken his place in the great cloud of witnesses who surround us at all times and in all places, forever, no exceptions.
For Ian life has not ended, it has changed. And for those of us who mourn, life has not ended, it, too has changed. We carry on, holding our memories and love for Ian in our hearts.
All that said, and knowing that many of us here have great faith, this is really tough.
How could Ian, who battled depression for so long, yet seemed to be coming out of an exceptionally dark period in his life, feel so hopeless that he couldn’t, in this life, find a way to escape the pain?
It begs the question: Where was God in all of this? Where is our Lord when one of God’s beloved children is in such desperate circumstances? Where?
Right in the middle of it.
I have no doubt that, as Ian went about his day last Sunday, when he made the decision—impulsive or long thought out—to end his own life, Jesus was right there. Urging, cajoling, begging, hoping, praying that he wouldn’t do it, Jesus was there. I envision Jesus weeping; knowing all too well the pain that Ian felt, as well as the pain that would befall Craig and Joni and all who loved Ian-- the same pain our Creator God felt as Jesus himself died on the cross.
Jesus knew this to be a pain that may dull a bit over time, but would never leave. Hence, Jesus wept.
And then, once it was over and Ian’s life on earth ended I also know that Jesus, tears streaming down his face, opened his arms wide and brought Ian home, into that place where sorrow and pain are no more.
Today, Ian is free.
Ian is home
Ian is safe
Ian is happy.
We, on the other hand, have a lot of adjusting to do, a lot of grieving to live through, a lot of questions to ponder.
Let me be clear, suicide is a horrible tragic end to life. But, it’s not a sin, it’s not selfish, it’s not a cop-out. Suicide is the solution employed when someone reaches the end of what they can bear, a final outcome to a bad disease. No amount of love from or for other people could make its way through the desolation of Ian’s mind. It’s no one’s fault-- it’s a tragedy, it’s awful and it makes no sense.
But we know, in sure and certain hope of resurrection living, that today Ian is at peace. May that be a source of consolation, a balm to soothe the souls of all the bereaved.
Ian Michael Libglid came into this world with a bit of a flourish after an emergency c-section. He spent some time in the NCIU, but once home, you couldn’t find an easier, happier and sweeter baby than Ian. Joni told me that he just soaked everything up---learning all he could about whatever was in front of him.
Ian was bright…that may have been hard for some people to see after his depression took hold and he became even more introverted than he already was, but Ian was smart and he was quick. Just last week he received a commendation at work for a job well done. He worked hard and well at the tasks he was given here at St Paul’s. Nick tells us that if he had any problem with technology, Ian would take care of it for him.
When he was younger, Ian loved being an acolyte. When Ian was on the schedule you knew that things were going to get done right.
I think compliments meant a lot to him…but boy was it a challenge to get him to accept one. Each and every time someone would say to him, “nice job, Ian,” he’d put his head down and blush. I pray he heard each one of the compliments he was given and that somehow they soothed his soul.
This is something a lot of you might not know—Ian was funny. He loved movies and could re-enact scenes line for line, getting the inflections and mannerisms “just so.”
I remember a time—it had to have been 5 or more years ago—and Mother Liza, Ian and I were in the sacristy and Ian made a joke. Now this was not something any of us were particularly used to-Ian joking around—but it tickled us to no end. When Mthr. Liza threw her head back and began to laugh, Ian, at first, looked stricken-- as if he had done something wrong—but when he realized that we were delighted, he beamed from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
As Joni and I spoke this week she told me about a favorite picture she has of Ian as a toddler. He was sitting in his room surrounded by his toys with an open book on his lap.
Ian loved books.
As a child, his favorite was “Good Night Moon.” You know the story—in the green room there was a telephone, a red balloon and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon….good night room.
Good night clocks, good night socks..
Good night stars good night air, good night noises everywhere.
The noises of Ian’s life became too much for his mind to bear last Sunday, he needed to say good night and farewell.
We’ll forever hold Ian in our hearts, we’ll forever hold Joni and Craig, Linda, Virginia and the entire family in our hearts and we thank God that Ian is finally and forever at peace.
Good night room, good night brush, good night old lady who says hush.
Good night fear, good night pain, good night to a son a nephew, a cousin, a friend, a child of God. Good night Ian. Rest in the eternal, glorious and wondrous peace that is God, watch over us and know that you are, forever and ever, loved. Amen.
These are the words we will recite later in this morning’s service as we commend Ian’s soul back to God. I find the words comforting in times of loss—today Ian is at rest in the company of all the saints. He has taken his place in the great cloud of witnesses who surround us at all times and in all places, forever, no exceptions.
For Ian life has not ended, it has changed. And for those of us who mourn, life has not ended, it, too has changed. We carry on, holding our memories and love for Ian in our hearts.
All that said, and knowing that many of us here have great faith, this is really tough.
How could Ian, who battled depression for so long, yet seemed to be coming out of an exceptionally dark period in his life, feel so hopeless that he couldn’t, in this life, find a way to escape the pain?
It begs the question: Where was God in all of this? Where is our Lord when one of God’s beloved children is in such desperate circumstances? Where?
Right in the middle of it.
I have no doubt that, as Ian went about his day last Sunday, when he made the decision—impulsive or long thought out—to end his own life, Jesus was right there. Urging, cajoling, begging, hoping, praying that he wouldn’t do it, Jesus was there. I envision Jesus weeping; knowing all too well the pain that Ian felt, as well as the pain that would befall Craig and Joni and all who loved Ian-- the same pain our Creator God felt as Jesus himself died on the cross.
Jesus knew this to be a pain that may dull a bit over time, but would never leave. Hence, Jesus wept.
And then, once it was over and Ian’s life on earth ended I also know that Jesus, tears streaming down his face, opened his arms wide and brought Ian home, into that place where sorrow and pain are no more.
Today, Ian is free.
Ian is home
Ian is safe
Ian is happy.
We, on the other hand, have a lot of adjusting to do, a lot of grieving to live through, a lot of questions to ponder.
Let me be clear, suicide is a horrible tragic end to life. But, it’s not a sin, it’s not selfish, it’s not a cop-out. Suicide is the solution employed when someone reaches the end of what they can bear, a final outcome to a bad disease. No amount of love from or for other people could make its way through the desolation of Ian’s mind. It’s no one’s fault-- it’s a tragedy, it’s awful and it makes no sense.
But we know, in sure and certain hope of resurrection living, that today Ian is at peace. May that be a source of consolation, a balm to soothe the souls of all the bereaved.
Ian Michael Libglid came into this world with a bit of a flourish after an emergency c-section. He spent some time in the NCIU, but once home, you couldn’t find an easier, happier and sweeter baby than Ian. Joni told me that he just soaked everything up---learning all he could about whatever was in front of him.
Ian was bright…that may have been hard for some people to see after his depression took hold and he became even more introverted than he already was, but Ian was smart and he was quick. Just last week he received a commendation at work for a job well done. He worked hard and well at the tasks he was given here at St Paul’s. Nick tells us that if he had any problem with technology, Ian would take care of it for him.
When he was younger, Ian loved being an acolyte. When Ian was on the schedule you knew that things were going to get done right.
I think compliments meant a lot to him…but boy was it a challenge to get him to accept one. Each and every time someone would say to him, “nice job, Ian,” he’d put his head down and blush. I pray he heard each one of the compliments he was given and that somehow they soothed his soul.
This is something a lot of you might not know—Ian was funny. He loved movies and could re-enact scenes line for line, getting the inflections and mannerisms “just so.”
I remember a time—it had to have been 5 or more years ago—and Mother Liza, Ian and I were in the sacristy and Ian made a joke. Now this was not something any of us were particularly used to-Ian joking around—but it tickled us to no end. When Mthr. Liza threw her head back and began to laugh, Ian, at first, looked stricken-- as if he had done something wrong—but when he realized that we were delighted, he beamed from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
As Joni and I spoke this week she told me about a favorite picture she has of Ian as a toddler. He was sitting in his room surrounded by his toys with an open book on his lap.
Ian loved books.
As a child, his favorite was “Good Night Moon.” You know the story—in the green room there was a telephone, a red balloon and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon….good night room.
Good night clocks, good night socks..
Good night stars good night air, good night noises everywhere.
The noises of Ian’s life became too much for his mind to bear last Sunday, he needed to say good night and farewell.
We’ll forever hold Ian in our hearts, we’ll forever hold Joni and Craig, Linda, Virginia and the entire family in our hearts and we thank God that Ian is finally and forever at peace.
Good night room, good night brush, good night old lady who says hush.
Good night fear, good night pain, good night to a son a nephew, a cousin, a friend, a child of God. Good night Ian. Rest in the eternal, glorious and wondrous peace that is God, watch over us and know that you are, forever and ever, loved. Amen.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Pentecost 2 Proper 7 Yr A June 22, 2014 It’s Human to Fear and Divine to Love
+Wow, guess we’re not in Easter season anymore, are we?
The joy of the empty tomb, the wonder of a love so strong it beat away the worst humanity could offer, has faded away and here we are, back to business as usual. Easter has left the building.
Or has it? Isn’t the point of the full Easter story--from the empty tomb to the gift of the Holy Spirit-- to equip us, to give us the tools needed to overpower the forces of our utter humanity with the forces of the Holy and Undivided Trinity? Isn’t the point, as we were given with the Great Commission of last week, to go out into the world, stomping away fear and embracing faith? Aren’t we supposed to be exemplars of all that Jesus told us, showed us, gave us?
Yes.
But it sure isn't easy!
You see, we’re human and we forget, time and time again to trust God; to remember the sacred stories, to recall the pain of Holy Week, the joy of Easter morn and the power of the Holy Spirit.
And, each and every time we FORGET to TRUST God, fear wins and faith loses. And, every time we REMEMBER to trust God, Faith wins, fear is defeated and we are one step closer to the Kingdom of God here on earth.
Sometimes we remember and more often than we care to admit, we forget.
It's completely human to turn away from God and turn toward ourselves... when buffeted by our doubt, our fear, our envy and our hopelessness, we forget what we’ve learned and we fall into base, somewhat animalistic survival mode.
It’s what we do.
And it's what Sarah did.
Hagar and Ishmael have been cast out into the desert and Hagar is preparing to die. It’s a heartbreaking scene and Sarah, a hero of our faith, has orchestrated the whole thing.
This is not one of Sarah’s finest moments.
Holy Smokes!
How did we get from "Alleluia He is Risen" to this?
Fear.
When Sarah sees Hagar’s son Ishmael playing with her son Isaac she gets scared and acts out of fear instead of faith.
Just to be clear, for those of you a little rusty on your Hebrew scripture, Hagar had Abraham’s baby upon Sarah's directive. You see, Sarah was unable to conceive so, wanting Abraham to have an heir, Sarah instructs him to take the “Egyptian Woman” so she could bear him a son. And Hagar did, giving birth to Ishmael. But then, at her very advanced age and, according to the promise of God, Sarah also becomes pregnant and also gives birth to a son, Isaac.
Sounds like an episode of All My Children, doesn’t it?
Of course, Isaac and Ishmael became friends, sharing a bond of blood and community. Nothing suggests that Hagar and Ishmael were treated any differently than the other Egyptian slaves employed by Abraham. It wasn’t a posh life, but the slaves were part of the fabric of family life and Isaac and Ishmael were close. It’s important to know this as background to understand the severity of this move---Sarah has turned her back on loyalty and affection all because she saw the two boys playing and suddenly became very afraid.
When we get scared, we act in ways out of character…we cast our son’s friend, our husband’s first born, out into the desert where he will face sure and certain death. Why?
Because we’re afraid that there won’t be enough—not enough inheritance, not enough love, not enough happiness. A mother watches her son playing with his friend, his half brother, and instead of seeing community, seeing family, she sees a rival, a competitor, a challenger.
It’s envy, it’s fear, it’s a lack of trust…and it’s what fuels the forces of darkness in our world.
This is what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel. He’s telling us that by staying focused on the matters of this world, we forget the foundation of God’s world. This world is ruled by our innate desire for survival---and that survival instinct has a very simple formula: if my neighbor has something that I don’t have, then there won’t be enough for me…or, in the case of Sarah, not enough for my child. It’s a basic human trait that has been given a fancy name—mimetic desire—and it fuels the lesser parts of our existence, the parts that destroy families, communities and nations. The same basic thing—fear of not having enough---fear that if my neighbor has more I won’t have enough---it’s what led to Cain murdering Abel, it’s what led to Hagar and Ishmael’s expulsion, it’s what led to Jesus’ crucifixion, it’s what causes most wars, much domestic violence and school shootings. Fear causes our base human desire for survival to kick into high gear. In a panic we become scared and we absolutely forget to trust….ourselves, our family, our neighbor, our God.
Fear happens. Faith is forgotten and we limp through life, afraid and doubting, timid and worried, harried and haggard. That is until, until we let down our defenses, until we forget to be on guard and the light of love, the spark of the Holy Spirit, the glory of God in three persons, blessed Trinity takes firm hold of our hearts and minds and souls.
Today, as we continue the slow and steady progression known, in church parlance, as Ordinary Time we are to practice the lessons we have learned; we are to remember and welcome the Holy Spirit in our lives, every day, every hour and every minute.
Do me a favor, try it. This week when overwhelmed, this week when afraid, this week when doubtful, this week when angry, this week when lost, remember the greatest gift humanity has ever received: the Holy Spirit of God, breathed on us through Christ.
Invite her in, give her room and see where she takes you. For trusting in the Holy Spirit is exactly where the empty tomb has led us. Noticing the Holy Spirit in our daily life, making room for her, listening to her, is what we, as Christians, are all about.
Try her out, and see what happens.
The joy of the empty tomb, the wonder of a love so strong it beat away the worst humanity could offer, has faded away and here we are, back to business as usual. Easter has left the building.
Or has it? Isn’t the point of the full Easter story--from the empty tomb to the gift of the Holy Spirit-- to equip us, to give us the tools needed to overpower the forces of our utter humanity with the forces of the Holy and Undivided Trinity? Isn’t the point, as we were given with the Great Commission of last week, to go out into the world, stomping away fear and embracing faith? Aren’t we supposed to be exemplars of all that Jesus told us, showed us, gave us?
Yes.
But it sure isn't easy!
You see, we’re human and we forget, time and time again to trust God; to remember the sacred stories, to recall the pain of Holy Week, the joy of Easter morn and the power of the Holy Spirit.
And, each and every time we FORGET to TRUST God, fear wins and faith loses. And, every time we REMEMBER to trust God, Faith wins, fear is defeated and we are one step closer to the Kingdom of God here on earth.
Sometimes we remember and more often than we care to admit, we forget.
It's completely human to turn away from God and turn toward ourselves... when buffeted by our doubt, our fear, our envy and our hopelessness, we forget what we’ve learned and we fall into base, somewhat animalistic survival mode.
It’s what we do.
And it's what Sarah did.
Hagar and Ishmael have been cast out into the desert and Hagar is preparing to die. It’s a heartbreaking scene and Sarah, a hero of our faith, has orchestrated the whole thing.
This is not one of Sarah’s finest moments.
Holy Smokes!
How did we get from "Alleluia He is Risen" to this?
Fear.
When Sarah sees Hagar’s son Ishmael playing with her son Isaac she gets scared and acts out of fear instead of faith.
Just to be clear, for those of you a little rusty on your Hebrew scripture, Hagar had Abraham’s baby upon Sarah's directive. You see, Sarah was unable to conceive so, wanting Abraham to have an heir, Sarah instructs him to take the “Egyptian Woman” so she could bear him a son. And Hagar did, giving birth to Ishmael. But then, at her very advanced age and, according to the promise of God, Sarah also becomes pregnant and also gives birth to a son, Isaac.
Sounds like an episode of All My Children, doesn’t it?
Of course, Isaac and Ishmael became friends, sharing a bond of blood and community. Nothing suggests that Hagar and Ishmael were treated any differently than the other Egyptian slaves employed by Abraham. It wasn’t a posh life, but the slaves were part of the fabric of family life and Isaac and Ishmael were close. It’s important to know this as background to understand the severity of this move---Sarah has turned her back on loyalty and affection all because she saw the two boys playing and suddenly became very afraid.
When we get scared, we act in ways out of character…we cast our son’s friend, our husband’s first born, out into the desert where he will face sure and certain death. Why?
Because we’re afraid that there won’t be enough—not enough inheritance, not enough love, not enough happiness. A mother watches her son playing with his friend, his half brother, and instead of seeing community, seeing family, she sees a rival, a competitor, a challenger.
It’s envy, it’s fear, it’s a lack of trust…and it’s what fuels the forces of darkness in our world.
This is what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel. He’s telling us that by staying focused on the matters of this world, we forget the foundation of God’s world. This world is ruled by our innate desire for survival---and that survival instinct has a very simple formula: if my neighbor has something that I don’t have, then there won’t be enough for me…or, in the case of Sarah, not enough for my child. It’s a basic human trait that has been given a fancy name—mimetic desire—and it fuels the lesser parts of our existence, the parts that destroy families, communities and nations. The same basic thing—fear of not having enough---fear that if my neighbor has more I won’t have enough---it’s what led to Cain murdering Abel, it’s what led to Hagar and Ishmael’s expulsion, it’s what led to Jesus’ crucifixion, it’s what causes most wars, much domestic violence and school shootings. Fear causes our base human desire for survival to kick into high gear. In a panic we become scared and we absolutely forget to trust….ourselves, our family, our neighbor, our God.
Fear happens. Faith is forgotten and we limp through life, afraid and doubting, timid and worried, harried and haggard. That is until, until we let down our defenses, until we forget to be on guard and the light of love, the spark of the Holy Spirit, the glory of God in three persons, blessed Trinity takes firm hold of our hearts and minds and souls.
Today, as we continue the slow and steady progression known, in church parlance, as Ordinary Time we are to practice the lessons we have learned; we are to remember and welcome the Holy Spirit in our lives, every day, every hour and every minute.
Do me a favor, try it. This week when overwhelmed, this week when afraid, this week when doubtful, this week when angry, this week when lost, remember the greatest gift humanity has ever received: the Holy Spirit of God, breathed on us through Christ.
Invite her in, give her room and see where she takes you. For trusting in the Holy Spirit is exactly where the empty tomb has led us. Noticing the Holy Spirit in our daily life, making room for her, listening to her, is what we, as Christians, are all about.
Try her out, and see what happens.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Trinity Sunday Sermon at Ascension June 15 2014
Today, Trinity Sunday is the culmination of Jesus' life story, and the launching point for OUR ministry. Today we are cast out into the world with the Great Commission --- to go out and make disciples of all nations, that is, to go out into the world living this life of Love and Justice and Respect for every human being.
It's as if all that has led to this day was the pre-season and now the regular season, ordinary time, has begun!
The instrument through which we re fueled for our work is the Blessed and Holy Trinity, God in three persons: God as Creator, God as Son and God as Holy Spirit.
On this Trinity Sunday we are given the toolkit. It is up to us to use the tools.
Right now, in the life of Ascension, we have the opportunity to use all these tools as we enter a period of tremendous transition , a period of change, a time of journey.
This past week I and then our vestry heard the very preliminary plans for the adaptive re-use of our buildings-- the church proper and Bittner Hall
These were difficult conversations. Tears were and will be shed.
Anger flared, despair set in and some of us, myself included, began to feel very very nervous and kind of scared. As I said the plans are very preliminary and I have already begun scripting our response. The bottom line is that, for a adaptive re-use project to be successful for a developer, they need to use this space-- our worship space-- in other words, we may need to create a brand new worship space elsewhere in our two building complex. We may need to give up this space in order to carry our new life, a new life begun on Trinity Sunday 2011 when we began our 4:30 service and I joined you as priest in charge.
Only a few of you remember that day... There were about 9 of us who came for regular worship on Sunday mornings....a search for a priest had not been going well...so you took the advice of the congregational development people at the diocese, and began to look for a parish with whom Ascension could enter into a covenant relationship, sharing a priest and developing partnership. It was a scary scary time. For you and for me.
What many of you don't know, is that the first steps toward the covenant relationship began in January of 2011 when Tom Zimpfer called me to ask if I'd be interested in discussing a possible partnership. I had to tell him that while I would be interested, I needed to delay our discussion until April because I was just beginning cancer treatment. While I was very confident that I wasn't going to die of cancer anytime soon, I had no idea if the treatment would work , if the cancer would stop growing, if my treatment that was supposed to end in mid April really would end, or if I would have a recurrence-- a possibility my doctors kept reminding me was possible.
I could have given into my fear and quit, passively letting the doctors do whatever they were going to do and hoping that it would work.
Or I could face the facts, I had cancer, and with determination and faith, walk into the journey, eyes wide open and head held high, determined to deal with the changes cancer would bring to my life. I deal with those changes every day. Some days I barely remember that I am a cancer survivor, other days I feel a twinge, I notice a bump or I just don't feel right and I wonder, "has it come back? " but today I am celebrating from 53 rd birthday. I am healthy and I am happy three years after my formal treatment ended.
And today, three years after we began our journey of faith together, we average 18 people a Sunday...with the possibility, if everyone comes on a Sunday, for 25 people. We have a wildly successful pet food pantry, distributing literally tons and tons of food to thousands THOUSANDS of people.
Today I am alive
Today we are alive.
We're not big but we are mighty.
But we have our own cancer, our own chronic problem....these beautiful, yet aging and expensive buildings. This church was built for a congregation of a couple hundred. It was a different time, when everyone went to church, when stores were closed on Sunday and no Girl Scout troop, hockey team or real estate company would dare hold events or open houses on a Sunday. Sunday was family day.... church day.
Life isn't like that anymore. And while that might be sad, even unfortunate, it is reality.
Our church buildings were built for a different time.
We are in a new time, and we have an organization willing and eager to transform most of our space into housing...leaving us with a more nimble, adaptable and remodeled worship space. They will pay for it; we will keep the remaining endowment and we'll have space for our pet food pantry, worship and socializing, education and meetings.
It will be different.
It will be scary.
It will be new
It will be ........who knows?
Much like the disciples after the journey of excitement and despair, hope and loss, confusion and clarity, we are on the precipice of something altogether new. But we are not alone, we don't have to figure this all out by ourselves. We have a triune God-- Creator, Son and Holy Spirit to guide us. A Creator who formed us to love each other as God loves us; a Son who walks ahead of us in time, standing beside us, in all we do.
And we have the Holy Spirit, that still small voice inside of us that soothes us, prods us, encourages and supports us in all we do.
These next few months will be hard, and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will be sad and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will challenge our commitment to each other, our love for each other, our faith in our diocese, our parish our leadership and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few moths will expose joy and peace and fellowship in ways we can't even imagine right now and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will define the next 150 years of this parish and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will offer us a variety of experiences, a multitude of emotions and a range of responses and through it all, God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
Thanks be to God.
It's as if all that has led to this day was the pre-season and now the regular season, ordinary time, has begun!
The instrument through which we re fueled for our work is the Blessed and Holy Trinity, God in three persons: God as Creator, God as Son and God as Holy Spirit.
On this Trinity Sunday we are given the toolkit. It is up to us to use the tools.
Right now, in the life of Ascension, we have the opportunity to use all these tools as we enter a period of tremendous transition , a period of change, a time of journey.
This past week I and then our vestry heard the very preliminary plans for the adaptive re-use of our buildings-- the church proper and Bittner Hall
These were difficult conversations. Tears were and will be shed.
Anger flared, despair set in and some of us, myself included, began to feel very very nervous and kind of scared. As I said the plans are very preliminary and I have already begun scripting our response. The bottom line is that, for a adaptive re-use project to be successful for a developer, they need to use this space-- our worship space-- in other words, we may need to create a brand new worship space elsewhere in our two building complex. We may need to give up this space in order to carry our new life, a new life begun on Trinity Sunday 2011 when we began our 4:30 service and I joined you as priest in charge.
Only a few of you remember that day... There were about 9 of us who came for regular worship on Sunday mornings....a search for a priest had not been going well...so you took the advice of the congregational development people at the diocese, and began to look for a parish with whom Ascension could enter into a covenant relationship, sharing a priest and developing partnership. It was a scary scary time. For you and for me.
What many of you don't know, is that the first steps toward the covenant relationship began in January of 2011 when Tom Zimpfer called me to ask if I'd be interested in discussing a possible partnership. I had to tell him that while I would be interested, I needed to delay our discussion until April because I was just beginning cancer treatment. While I was very confident that I wasn't going to die of cancer anytime soon, I had no idea if the treatment would work , if the cancer would stop growing, if my treatment that was supposed to end in mid April really would end, or if I would have a recurrence-- a possibility my doctors kept reminding me was possible.
I could have given into my fear and quit, passively letting the doctors do whatever they were going to do and hoping that it would work.
Or I could face the facts, I had cancer, and with determination and faith, walk into the journey, eyes wide open and head held high, determined to deal with the changes cancer would bring to my life. I deal with those changes every day. Some days I barely remember that I am a cancer survivor, other days I feel a twinge, I notice a bump or I just don't feel right and I wonder, "has it come back? " but today I am celebrating from 53 rd birthday. I am healthy and I am happy three years after my formal treatment ended.
And today, three years after we began our journey of faith together, we average 18 people a Sunday...with the possibility, if everyone comes on a Sunday, for 25 people. We have a wildly successful pet food pantry, distributing literally tons and tons of food to thousands THOUSANDS of people.
Today I am alive
Today we are alive.
We're not big but we are mighty.
But we have our own cancer, our own chronic problem....these beautiful, yet aging and expensive buildings. This church was built for a congregation of a couple hundred. It was a different time, when everyone went to church, when stores were closed on Sunday and no Girl Scout troop, hockey team or real estate company would dare hold events or open houses on a Sunday. Sunday was family day.... church day.
Life isn't like that anymore. And while that might be sad, even unfortunate, it is reality.
Our church buildings were built for a different time.
We are in a new time, and we have an organization willing and eager to transform most of our space into housing...leaving us with a more nimble, adaptable and remodeled worship space. They will pay for it; we will keep the remaining endowment and we'll have space for our pet food pantry, worship and socializing, education and meetings.
It will be different.
It will be scary.
It will be new
It will be ........who knows?
Much like the disciples after the journey of excitement and despair, hope and loss, confusion and clarity, we are on the precipice of something altogether new. But we are not alone, we don't have to figure this all out by ourselves. We have a triune God-- Creator, Son and Holy Spirit to guide us. A Creator who formed us to love each other as God loves us; a Son who walks ahead of us in time, standing beside us, in all we do.
And we have the Holy Spirit, that still small voice inside of us that soothes us, prods us, encourages and supports us in all we do.
These next few months will be hard, and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will be sad and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will challenge our commitment to each other, our love for each other, our faith in our diocese, our parish our leadership and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few moths will expose joy and peace and fellowship in ways we can't even imagine right now and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will define the next 150 years of this parish and God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
The next few months will offer us a variety of experiences, a multitude of emotions and a range of responses and through it all, God in three persons, blessed trinity will be with us.
Thanks be to God.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
The Context blasting Holy Spirit
+Context. I just spent three days with Episcopalians from across the country, Anglicans from South Africa, South America, Scotland, Wales and New Zealand, representatives from our partners in faith-- the Lutheran, Moravian, Presbyterian and, if you can believe it, Disciples of Christ churches. The consultation, as it was called, was a conversation about the liturgy and support materials, adopted by our church, for the blessing of a life long covenant, otherwise known as the liturgy for same gender weddings.
From the start, we were encouraged to remember the context from which each of us spoke. The point was clear: we’re informed through our context—our culture, our point of view, our situation.
Pentecost was a Jewish holiday long before it was the birthday of the church, long before the Holy Spirit decided to make her appearance in that upper room. But hardly anyone knows that-- we just assume, from our Christian context, that Pentecost is called that because the Holy Spirit arrived 50 days after Easter. But Pentecost, derived from the Greek for fiftieth day is another name for the Jewish holiday of Shavu’ot which occurs on the 50th day after Passover.
OUR Pentecost context is simply one of many.
So, acting through their Jewish context the disciples have gathered in that upper room on Pentecost, Shavu’ot, to share a meal and utter the familiar prayers of their previous context while adjusting to their new context of a life following a Jesus who was no longer there. Everything was different.
Different is, challenging. Some differences intrigue us, but very often different scares us. We use our context to understand and interpret and when someone behaves in a way unfamiliar to us, when they operate out of a context different from ours, we often become afraid and resistant. It was fear that caused the crowds to shout “crucify him,” it was fear that caused Peter to deny, Judas to betray and everyone but a very few to flee.
Fear is at the root of most of humanity’s worst behavior. Wars and massacres, genocide, discrimination, hatred and exclusion can all be traced back to fear. Fear stems from a lack of understanding, fear comes when we don’t “get” another’s context.
The temple leadership didn’t understand the context of these Jesus followers, and the disciples didn’t understand the context of the temple authorities. Yet, as is often the case with differences, they weren’t all that different!
Jew and Christian alike, as well as Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and many others, strive for a very similar goal: loving the God of their understanding with all their heart and soul and mind.
Of course, intolerance of differences, fear of unfamiliar contexts isn’t only in our history books—it lives and moves through our life today—as members of this parish, as Episcopalians, as Anglicans, as WNYers, as Americans, as citizens of the world, male and female, white, black and brown, gay, straight, bisexual, transgendered, republicans and democrats, Yankees fans, Red Sox fans; misunderstanding one another’s contexts disrupts, erodes and at times destroys our unity.
That is unless…..unless we make room for and listen to the Holy Spirit. That is the point of this day.
On that Pentecost 2000 yrs ago, the disciples were juggling two contexts; the old familiar context of Shavu’ot observance and in their new context of all that Jesus had taught them. They gathered betwixt the old and the new, they gathered unsure of just what their context should be.
It was into this confusion that the tool of tolerance, the tool of insight arrived in that wind blowing, fire burning Holy Spirit.
Once the Holy Spirit entered them, the disciples looked at the world differently, they heard the world differently, they saw each other differently.
And we can too.
I saw it happen this past week as I attended the Consultation on same sex marriage. Some of us want to push the church farther into marriage equality to eliminate the separate and unequal rites of marriage and rite of blessing a life long covenant, others of us don’t want to lose the ground we’ve gained. Instead of forcing our contextual-laden opinions on each other, we prayed together and we listened to the nudgings of the Holy Spirit. Instead of directing the process, we let ourselves be part of the process. Instead of leading the charge, we opened ourselves to let the Spirit lead us to places we never ever thought we could go.
There is great hatred, incredible intolerance, and mounds of fear pulsating through our world. Sadly, WNY was put in the national spotlight of context issues this week with the hate-filled rant of a woman in Cheektowaga. I suppose it’s easy to call her a crazy racist and leave it at that…but such vile behavior comes from some place deep and fear-laden—what in the world was the context of that woman that led to such a place of hate?
We need the Holy Spirit in all that we do, all that we want and all that we hope —we need her Wisdom, her guidance, her fire and her wind to blow into and out of us, leading us into the world, spreading the good news, striving for justice and working for peace.
The good news of today is this:
As suddenly as the gust of wind, as fast as the raging fire, as encompassing as Jesus' embrace, the Holy Spirit is within each and every one of us. And when we let the Holy Spirit have her way us, we will understand one another-- not just those who look like us, not just those who sound like us, not just those who think like us, but everyone.
The Holy Spirit turns the walls of context from stumbling blocks of hate and intolerance and fear into building blocks of understanding, acceptance and Love.
From the crib to the ministry, from the despair of Holy Week to the brilliance of the empty tomb from the discombobulation of the Ascension to those tongues of fire, it all comes down to this ---the Holy Spirit, when given the room to move within us, through us and between us,
will bring us all into that one context of our Creating, Redeeming, Sustaining and always Loving God.
Yes, we have work to do, we have understanding to spread and we have contexts to appreciate. So let’s get busy, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit, Alleluia, Alleluia. Amen.
From the start, we were encouraged to remember the context from which each of us spoke. The point was clear: we’re informed through our context—our culture, our point of view, our situation.
Pentecost was a Jewish holiday long before it was the birthday of the church, long before the Holy Spirit decided to make her appearance in that upper room. But hardly anyone knows that-- we just assume, from our Christian context, that Pentecost is called that because the Holy Spirit arrived 50 days after Easter. But Pentecost, derived from the Greek for fiftieth day is another name for the Jewish holiday of Shavu’ot which occurs on the 50th day after Passover.
OUR Pentecost context is simply one of many.
So, acting through their Jewish context the disciples have gathered in that upper room on Pentecost, Shavu’ot, to share a meal and utter the familiar prayers of their previous context while adjusting to their new context of a life following a Jesus who was no longer there. Everything was different.
Different is, challenging. Some differences intrigue us, but very often different scares us. We use our context to understand and interpret and when someone behaves in a way unfamiliar to us, when they operate out of a context different from ours, we often become afraid and resistant. It was fear that caused the crowds to shout “crucify him,” it was fear that caused Peter to deny, Judas to betray and everyone but a very few to flee.
Fear is at the root of most of humanity’s worst behavior. Wars and massacres, genocide, discrimination, hatred and exclusion can all be traced back to fear. Fear stems from a lack of understanding, fear comes when we don’t “get” another’s context.
The temple leadership didn’t understand the context of these Jesus followers, and the disciples didn’t understand the context of the temple authorities. Yet, as is often the case with differences, they weren’t all that different!
Jew and Christian alike, as well as Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and many others, strive for a very similar goal: loving the God of their understanding with all their heart and soul and mind.
Of course, intolerance of differences, fear of unfamiliar contexts isn’t only in our history books—it lives and moves through our life today—as members of this parish, as Episcopalians, as Anglicans, as WNYers, as Americans, as citizens of the world, male and female, white, black and brown, gay, straight, bisexual, transgendered, republicans and democrats, Yankees fans, Red Sox fans; misunderstanding one another’s contexts disrupts, erodes and at times destroys our unity.
That is unless…..unless we make room for and listen to the Holy Spirit. That is the point of this day.
On that Pentecost 2000 yrs ago, the disciples were juggling two contexts; the old familiar context of Shavu’ot observance and in their new context of all that Jesus had taught them. They gathered betwixt the old and the new, they gathered unsure of just what their context should be.
It was into this confusion that the tool of tolerance, the tool of insight arrived in that wind blowing, fire burning Holy Spirit.
Once the Holy Spirit entered them, the disciples looked at the world differently, they heard the world differently, they saw each other differently.
And we can too.
I saw it happen this past week as I attended the Consultation on same sex marriage. Some of us want to push the church farther into marriage equality to eliminate the separate and unequal rites of marriage and rite of blessing a life long covenant, others of us don’t want to lose the ground we’ve gained. Instead of forcing our contextual-laden opinions on each other, we prayed together and we listened to the nudgings of the Holy Spirit. Instead of directing the process, we let ourselves be part of the process. Instead of leading the charge, we opened ourselves to let the Spirit lead us to places we never ever thought we could go.
There is great hatred, incredible intolerance, and mounds of fear pulsating through our world. Sadly, WNY was put in the national spotlight of context issues this week with the hate-filled rant of a woman in Cheektowaga. I suppose it’s easy to call her a crazy racist and leave it at that…but such vile behavior comes from some place deep and fear-laden—what in the world was the context of that woman that led to such a place of hate?
We need the Holy Spirit in all that we do, all that we want and all that we hope —we need her Wisdom, her guidance, her fire and her wind to blow into and out of us, leading us into the world, spreading the good news, striving for justice and working for peace.
The good news of today is this:
As suddenly as the gust of wind, as fast as the raging fire, as encompassing as Jesus' embrace, the Holy Spirit is within each and every one of us. And when we let the Holy Spirit have her way us, we will understand one another-- not just those who look like us, not just those who sound like us, not just those who think like us, but everyone.
The Holy Spirit turns the walls of context from stumbling blocks of hate and intolerance and fear into building blocks of understanding, acceptance and Love.
From the crib to the ministry, from the despair of Holy Week to the brilliance of the empty tomb from the discombobulation of the Ascension to those tongues of fire, it all comes down to this ---the Holy Spirit, when given the room to move within us, through us and between us,
will bring us all into that one context of our Creating, Redeeming, Sustaining and always Loving God.
Yes, we have work to do, we have understanding to spread and we have contexts to appreciate. So let’s get busy, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit, Alleluia, Alleluia. Amen.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Ascension Sunday Sermon preached at St Paul's in lewiston June 1 2014
What just happened? Jesus was here and now? He’s off to heaven on a cloud?
Within the 50 days of Easter there are three days of special significance: Easter Sunday itself, Ascension Day and the Day of Pentecost. Ascension Day was, technically, on Thursday—40 days after Easter Sunday, but we are commemorating t today, 43 days after Easter Sunday. For forty days we adjust ourselves to Resurrection living—for forty days we try to wrap our brains around Jesus being dead then not being dead. It takes 40 days to realize that death has, once and for all, been defeated. Death is dead.
Jesus needed forty days too. It took 40 days for him to reach the doubters, the deniers the disbelievers. It took 40 days to make one last pitch for His message of uncompromising Love and never-ending Peace.
So, after 40 days, just as our adjustment to Resurrection Life seems almost complete, just as we’ve adjusted to the brightness of resurrection life, there is another Divine surprise: Jesus leaves. He physically and boldly rises to heaven perched atop a cloud. Now we can debate whether Jesus’ leaving happened exactly like this, but doing that just distracts us from the effect Jesus’ ascension has on us.
In his remarks immediately before the ascension Jesus promises that if we’re patient, if we wait, the advocate will come and we’ll be “furnished with heavenly power.” The arrival of the advocate, the instrument through which we are all divinely empowered, will come next Sunday—the day of Pentecost.
This begs the question---what purpose is served in making us wait again—after all , we waited in uneasy emptiness from Good Friday until Easter morning, and now we have to do it all over again? Why another period of limbo? Why doesn’t Jesus leave on one train and the Holy Spirit arrive on the next?
Because there’s something very holy in the waiting…something very spiritual in the waiting… something important—very very important in the waiting.
Brother Curtis Almquist is a monk with the Society of St John the Evangelist, an Episcopal monastery in Cambridge MA. He has written a poignant, moving meditation on this period of waiting, this period between Jesus’ departure and the Holy Spirit’s arrival.
He writes:
“Ascension Day follows the high drama of Holy Week: the palm-waving crowds, the betrayals, the scourging, the crucifixion and resurrection. All of those days are full of interpretation and meaning. But Ascension Day is rather vacuous of meaning. Jesus says to his followers, ‘Stay here. Wait. Wait until you have been clothed with power.’ Why the wait? “ Well, Br. Curtis continues, ”I think God is waiting for us, for me and for you, to say ‘yes’ with our own lives: our readiness or at least our willingness to co-operate with God for what God has in mind for our own lives…
God is waiting for us to say Yes to our lives, which will [then allow] God’s power [to] work within us and through us. ”
Ok, now I understand why we spent all that time this Easter season reading John’s Gospel accounts of the first Holy Week….because the utter and complete absence we experienced then we experience again now… because this week is another week of emptiness.
An emptiness that we felt so deeply as we read the account of Mary and the other women taking that long sorrowful walk back to the tomb on Easter morning; they were completely and utterly spent, completely and utterly void, completely and utterly EMPTY, only to reach the tomb and find that it too is empty, it too is vacant.
There’s great poignancy in the abundance of emptiness on Easter morning. It’s into that space, that empty broken, bereft and spent space that the Love, the Peace and the Joy of the Resurrection takes hold. And so here we are, with another period of waiting, of emptiness, of disorientation and loss.
This waiting period between Ascension and Pentecost isn’t because God needs time to get God’s ducks in a row, the waiting period isn’t because the Holy Spirit has a time management problem. The waiting period isn’t for God in any of God’s forms.
The waiting period is for us.
It’s for us to become receptive. It’s for us to become open. It is for us to become instruments of this Holy Power. The waiting period of this next week is for us. For us to accept, to say yes to the forgiveness Jesus offers us for our mistakes, our blunders, our less than stellar moments.
The waiting period is for us.
For us to accept that God’s Love, that inexplicable, overpowering and never ending Love, is ours for the taking, it’s ours to receive,
it’s ours to accept, it’s ours to make room for.
The waiting period is for us. For us to accept the Peace that surpasses all understanding, the peace that Jesus showed on the cross, the peace that Jesus showed in the upper room, the Peace that Jesus showed in all he did and said.
The waiting period is for us to realize that Jesus has left this world and taken the fullness of the human experience into the realm of the Divine. The waiting period is for us to begin to understand that the human condition is no longer a concept to God, it is part of God.
The waiting period isn’t about us waiting on God, it’s about God waiting on us—not waiting on our ability to accept the Spirit, but on our availability to receive the power of the spirit, our availability to say yes to being Christ’s Body in this world.
And so we have another Holy Week. Another span of time where we need to adjust and readjust to the new ways God moves in and through our lives.
May we spend this week adjusting our eyes to the brightness of God’s glory given to us in the Risen and Ascended One, Jesus Christ. May we spend this week preparing to receive the power promised to us, and may we spend this week shouting Alleluia Alleluia, Death is Dead, Love is in charge and joy is ours now and forever. Amen.
Within the 50 days of Easter there are three days of special significance: Easter Sunday itself, Ascension Day and the Day of Pentecost. Ascension Day was, technically, on Thursday—40 days after Easter Sunday, but we are commemorating t today, 43 days after Easter Sunday. For forty days we adjust ourselves to Resurrection living—for forty days we try to wrap our brains around Jesus being dead then not being dead. It takes 40 days to realize that death has, once and for all, been defeated. Death is dead.
Jesus needed forty days too. It took 40 days for him to reach the doubters, the deniers the disbelievers. It took 40 days to make one last pitch for His message of uncompromising Love and never-ending Peace.
So, after 40 days, just as our adjustment to Resurrection Life seems almost complete, just as we’ve adjusted to the brightness of resurrection life, there is another Divine surprise: Jesus leaves. He physically and boldly rises to heaven perched atop a cloud. Now we can debate whether Jesus’ leaving happened exactly like this, but doing that just distracts us from the effect Jesus’ ascension has on us.
In his remarks immediately before the ascension Jesus promises that if we’re patient, if we wait, the advocate will come and we’ll be “furnished with heavenly power.” The arrival of the advocate, the instrument through which we are all divinely empowered, will come next Sunday—the day of Pentecost.
This begs the question---what purpose is served in making us wait again—after all , we waited in uneasy emptiness from Good Friday until Easter morning, and now we have to do it all over again? Why another period of limbo? Why doesn’t Jesus leave on one train and the Holy Spirit arrive on the next?
Because there’s something very holy in the waiting…something very spiritual in the waiting… something important—very very important in the waiting.
Brother Curtis Almquist is a monk with the Society of St John the Evangelist, an Episcopal monastery in Cambridge MA. He has written a poignant, moving meditation on this period of waiting, this period between Jesus’ departure and the Holy Spirit’s arrival.
He writes:
“Ascension Day follows the high drama of Holy Week: the palm-waving crowds, the betrayals, the scourging, the crucifixion and resurrection. All of those days are full of interpretation and meaning. But Ascension Day is rather vacuous of meaning. Jesus says to his followers, ‘Stay here. Wait. Wait until you have been clothed with power.’ Why the wait? “ Well, Br. Curtis continues, ”I think God is waiting for us, for me and for you, to say ‘yes’ with our own lives: our readiness or at least our willingness to co-operate with God for what God has in mind for our own lives…
God is waiting for us to say Yes to our lives, which will [then allow] God’s power [to] work within us and through us. ”
Ok, now I understand why we spent all that time this Easter season reading John’s Gospel accounts of the first Holy Week….because the utter and complete absence we experienced then we experience again now… because this week is another week of emptiness.
An emptiness that we felt so deeply as we read the account of Mary and the other women taking that long sorrowful walk back to the tomb on Easter morning; they were completely and utterly spent, completely and utterly void, completely and utterly EMPTY, only to reach the tomb and find that it too is empty, it too is vacant.
There’s great poignancy in the abundance of emptiness on Easter morning. It’s into that space, that empty broken, bereft and spent space that the Love, the Peace and the Joy of the Resurrection takes hold. And so here we are, with another period of waiting, of emptiness, of disorientation and loss.
This waiting period between Ascension and Pentecost isn’t because God needs time to get God’s ducks in a row, the waiting period isn’t because the Holy Spirit has a time management problem. The waiting period isn’t for God in any of God’s forms.
The waiting period is for us.
It’s for us to become receptive. It’s for us to become open. It is for us to become instruments of this Holy Power. The waiting period of this next week is for us. For us to accept, to say yes to the forgiveness Jesus offers us for our mistakes, our blunders, our less than stellar moments.
The waiting period is for us.
For us to accept that God’s Love, that inexplicable, overpowering and never ending Love, is ours for the taking, it’s ours to receive,
it’s ours to accept, it’s ours to make room for.
The waiting period is for us. For us to accept the Peace that surpasses all understanding, the peace that Jesus showed on the cross, the peace that Jesus showed in the upper room, the Peace that Jesus showed in all he did and said.
The waiting period is for us to realize that Jesus has left this world and taken the fullness of the human experience into the realm of the Divine. The waiting period is for us to begin to understand that the human condition is no longer a concept to God, it is part of God.
The waiting period isn’t about us waiting on God, it’s about God waiting on us—not waiting on our ability to accept the Spirit, but on our availability to receive the power of the spirit, our availability to say yes to being Christ’s Body in this world.
And so we have another Holy Week. Another span of time where we need to adjust and readjust to the new ways God moves in and through our lives.
May we spend this week adjusting our eyes to the brightness of God’s glory given to us in the Risen and Ascended One, Jesus Christ. May we spend this week preparing to receive the power promised to us, and may we spend this week shouting Alleluia Alleluia, Death is Dead, Love is in charge and joy is ours now and forever. Amen.
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