We live inside a story anchored in a day which occurred fifty days after Jesus rose from the dead. The day of Pentecost took the world by storm. That’s what Luke reports when he tells us of the Holy Spirit’s coming upon those first disciples of the risen Jesus.
Since then, the storms that seem to have taken over the world, crusades, earthquakes, floods, genocide, hurricanes, plagues, tornadoes, tsunamis, terrorism and wars, are too numerous to mention. And their combined toll on the human spirit is unimaginable.
We live in an age when “spirituality” is all the rage. Everybody, it seems, has one, even if they also have no church home, no religious affiliation, nor belief in the God of the Bible. More than that, followers of these assorted spiritual paths are eager to have us salute their practices because, as they say, “We’re all on the same journey, we just walk along different paths and call our ‘higher power’ by different names.”
Those are “nice” sentiments; seemingly “harmless” beliefs; and, even make the politically correct among us feel all warm and fuzzy because we’re all so darned tolerant.
Inside the story of the Bible’s God, where the coming of Emmanuel is announced, where the Messiah’s breaking open and pouring out is declared; where the raising from the dead of Jesus the Christ is affirmed, warm fuzzies are not sufficient for the spiritual life.
As Luke writes, Peter’s announcement about the Holy Spirit’s arrival onto and into the borning community of Christian believers offered simply stunning consequences. Quoting the prophet Joel, Peter testifies to the reality that now, life in the Spirit offers God’s dynamic embrace to the lowest of the low. No longer are the roles of speaking in God’s behalf, visioning God’s alternative reality, and imagining God’s "otherwise" restricted to a few chosen agents. Henceforth, all people are brought inside the margins of God’s boundless love. From now on, all people are gathered into God’s unearned for-us.
In God’s Jesus the final judgment has been rendered. The judgment brought an unexpected mercy, an unanticipated righting of the wrong, an unmerited belonging, and, an unwarranted opportunity to share a common life as God’s holy and whole people.
Peter’s encouraging refrain, offered to all those who would hear, was, “Repent!” Simply admit the world’s nice, neat, orderliness is a cruel hoax that’s kept us bound to the ravages of nature, tied in knots by greed, and separated from God by our selfishness and pride.
In that Spirit, we repent and are reborn each Sunday. On occasion, it feels nice!
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 29, 2006
Still Living, Still Giving
Each year, in September, our congregation receives a bequest from a Trust Fund. It was established by a 90 year old woman, who died in February 2002. Upon receipt of the gift, I always reflect on the words God gave me to speak at her home-going celebration.
This past week those who keep custody of the nuclear "doomsday" clock advanced the minute hand toward the midnight hour of final destruction. I can't attest to their
calculations about destruction, but I do know that they don't have the last word on what's final -and you know it, too. As her last gift to us - her community of faith - Dorothy brought us each closer to death as we make our own journey through Lent to Easter. Jesus' resurrection is God's answer to what's final.
Throughout her life Dorothy chose the quiet way. I'm not saying she wasn't aware of all that went on around her, or that she was sheltered from life's hardships. I'm saying that Dorothy chose to move through the unfolding of her life firmly attached to the strong foundation of God's promises. She never saw her life as a series of disconnected episodes that pushed her to and fro, and left her in a state of confusion. Drawing confidence in God's abiding love and nearness from the scriptures and from the Word of God made flesh in Jesus; Dorothy lived her life as someone who was being conducted through an immense cathedral, not someone lost on a shoreless sea. Dorothy's quietness was blessed because of its boldness, and her quietness was holy because of its fruitfulness.
Since Dorothy's whole world was the dwelling place of God, she wasn't governed, as so many of us are, by either social pressures or unwarranted fears. When I'd chide her for opening her door to strangers, she'd say, "Well, after I meet them, they're not strangers anymore." So, Dorothy regularly did things most of us would call reckless and foolhardy, she:
• looked you in the eye -not over your shoulder
• made sure she heard your question, before she answered
• was honest with herself before the Lord, so she could tell you the truth
• liked laughing at herself rather than at anyone else
• tried new things because, for her, life was an adventure, not a routine
• enjoyed welcoming new members -and their traditions -into her church, because she
believed their status, dignity and worth came from God's love, not her tastes or
her approval
• preferred sharing a ladle of love to hoarding a gallon of grudge.
People of faith don't call these courageous deeds random acts of kindness. We call that kind of breaking-open and pouring-out love, ministry.
Dorothy understood Martin Luther to be reestablishing the church as a gathering of disciples and apostles, not founding a resort into which the frozen chosen were to retreat. So Dorothy ministered to her family, her friends, her church, and - through the blankets she sewed and monetary donations she made - to the whole world. Those of us who knew her well couldn't say her ministry was orderly, but we could hardly suggest it had no focus. Dorothy frequently overextended herself ministering to those in need, but she never lost her way. At times her work interfered with her sleep, but not with her prayer. I always wondered how she kept her ministry so clearly on track through all the interruptions and problems she so readily shared with all those whom she loved.
Then one day it struck me that whenever she opened her arms and heart to embrace another, it was the same as Jesus opening his arms on the cross to embrace the whole world. Dorothy came among us as one who trusted that those who believe in Jesus will have eternal life, and the Jesus she believed in came to save the world, not to condemn the world. So the people she encountered as God guided her journey through the cathedral we call world were never interruptions, disruptions, or obstacles. For Dorothy, they were opportunities, sacred encounters, and new moments in time for her to carry out her share in Jesus' mission. That's why God called her into being.
I prefer keeping "world" time by Dorothy's clock. According to that time-piece it's not midnight's time for either destruction or finality. It's simply, graciously, a new dawn. Time to say, "Well done good and faithful servant. Thank you; till we meet again."
This past week those who keep custody of the nuclear "doomsday" clock advanced the minute hand toward the midnight hour of final destruction. I can't attest to their
calculations about destruction, but I do know that they don't have the last word on what's final -and you know it, too. As her last gift to us - her community of faith - Dorothy brought us each closer to death as we make our own journey through Lent to Easter. Jesus' resurrection is God's answer to what's final.
Throughout her life Dorothy chose the quiet way. I'm not saying she wasn't aware of all that went on around her, or that she was sheltered from life's hardships. I'm saying that Dorothy chose to move through the unfolding of her life firmly attached to the strong foundation of God's promises. She never saw her life as a series of disconnected episodes that pushed her to and fro, and left her in a state of confusion. Drawing confidence in God's abiding love and nearness from the scriptures and from the Word of God made flesh in Jesus; Dorothy lived her life as someone who was being conducted through an immense cathedral, not someone lost on a shoreless sea. Dorothy's quietness was blessed because of its boldness, and her quietness was holy because of its fruitfulness.
Since Dorothy's whole world was the dwelling place of God, she wasn't governed, as so many of us are, by either social pressures or unwarranted fears. When I'd chide her for opening her door to strangers, she'd say, "Well, after I meet them, they're not strangers anymore." So, Dorothy regularly did things most of us would call reckless and foolhardy, she:
• looked you in the eye -not over your shoulder
• made sure she heard your question, before she answered
• was honest with herself before the Lord, so she could tell you the truth
• liked laughing at herself rather than at anyone else
• tried new things because, for her, life was an adventure, not a routine
• enjoyed welcoming new members -and their traditions -into her church, because she
believed their status, dignity and worth came from God's love, not her tastes or
her approval
• preferred sharing a ladle of love to hoarding a gallon of grudge.
People of faith don't call these courageous deeds random acts of kindness. We call that kind of breaking-open and pouring-out love, ministry.
Dorothy understood Martin Luther to be reestablishing the church as a gathering of disciples and apostles, not founding a resort into which the frozen chosen were to retreat. So Dorothy ministered to her family, her friends, her church, and - through the blankets she sewed and monetary donations she made - to the whole world. Those of us who knew her well couldn't say her ministry was orderly, but we could hardly suggest it had no focus. Dorothy frequently overextended herself ministering to those in need, but she never lost her way. At times her work interfered with her sleep, but not with her prayer. I always wondered how she kept her ministry so clearly on track through all the interruptions and problems she so readily shared with all those whom she loved.
Then one day it struck me that whenever she opened her arms and heart to embrace another, it was the same as Jesus opening his arms on the cross to embrace the whole world. Dorothy came among us as one who trusted that those who believe in Jesus will have eternal life, and the Jesus she believed in came to save the world, not to condemn the world. So the people she encountered as God guided her journey through the cathedral we call world were never interruptions, disruptions, or obstacles. For Dorothy, they were opportunities, sacred encounters, and new moments in time for her to carry out her share in Jesus' mission. That's why God called her into being.
I prefer keeping "world" time by Dorothy's clock. According to that time-piece it's not midnight's time for either destruction or finality. It's simply, graciously, a new dawn. Time to say, "Well done good and faithful servant. Thank you; till we meet again."
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
The Other Side of the Big Easy
All of the of us 13 so-called missionaries who were in New Orleans last week came away with a host of questions:
where’s FEMA
what are the insurance companies doing
how come the mayor hasn’t fixed the street cars
why is LDR set up in the suburbs, not the inner city
who’s in charge of picking up all this trash
when will this city return to normal?
Strange as it may seem, we didn’t hear many of these questions from the members of Bethlehem. Stranger still, and maybe it’s because so much time has passed and the question is no longer relevant, or spoken aloud, we never heard one soul say, “Why us, why me?”
If you remember anything about the story of Job, you’ll remember that the questions, “Why; why me,” dominate the story.
And the answer Job hears from God, part of which we heard this morning, seems to offer little comfort. Even hearing the whole of God’s answer, from the first verse of chapter 38, mid-way through chapter 42, (which never gets much more consoling than this piece we heard) there’s not much to ease our human anxiety in the face of tragedies we can’t control.
Like Job’s three faith-filled friends, we who are believers in God and followers of God, often quickly come to God’s defense. We, like they, find it easier to blame the victim than to face God directly with questions about God’s wisdom and purposes.
I wish I knew how all this got started. For reasons I can’t explain - and I’m certainly including myself here - most of us operate along a faith-level that goes like this: “Once I’m in relationship with God, I’m on easy street. I’ll lose no more arguments; offend no one; have few financial concerns; experience little emotional upheaval; suffer no more accidents, face no problems, worries, or fears.”
Of course, we know it doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t even work that way on Sunday when we’re surrounded by believers, let alone the rest of the week when we’re swimming against the tide. Worse, no sooner than something “bad” does happen to a noble believer like us, the storm clouds roll in. We become flooded by doubt; we’re over our head with guilt.
In our best moments we tell ourselves that ours are just small concerns and this good, loving, powerful God is taking care of a bigger problem; maybe the Iraq war; or the genocide in Darfur; perhaps to fix New Orleans! In our worst moments we can find ourselves swamped by the feeling that somehow, somewhere along the way, we’ve reversed course and said “No,” to the God to whom we remember pledging a life-long. “Yes.” Now, in retribution for our backsliding, God has gone elsewhere to tend to more worthy believers.
Surely something like this is going on in the minds of Jesus’ disciples. Like Job’s friends, they, too, thought they had an inside track on God’s mind. In the verse just prior to this (4:34) Mark tells us that it was Jesus’ custom to take his disciples aside and explain to them the meaning of his teaching parables. Certainly, these special folk deserve special treatment – even from the forces of nature.
“Do you not care that we are perishing?” It’s an all too familiar question isn’t it? Now to be fair, we’re talking about a storm so fierce that the four of Jesus’ disciples who are professional fishermen are among those who fear for their lives.
Notice, also, that it’s not immediately clear that their waking Jesus is a plea for him to do something, or an expectation that he can change the outcome. Like as not, they simply wanted Jesus to share their panic.
I read an analysis from experts in stress management who found that only two percent of our “worrying time” is spent on things that might actually be helped by worrying. The other 98 percent is spent this way:
40% on things that never happen
35% on things that can’t be changed
15% on things that turn our better that we expected
8% on petty or useless worries.
So what does Jesus’ uninterrupted slumber mean; that he doesn’t care; that he’s above worrying? I’m remembering a conversation in the garden of Gethsemane that’s got an edge to it. I can recall a shout from the cross that sounds more than a little panicky. But in this moment, and what, no doubt, saw him over that edgy time and through that panicky time was trust, confidence. Not self-assurance, not self-reliance, but trust in God. Trust like that found in Psalm 121.
Do you see all that’s going on here – when we trust in the God described in this Psalm?
Just as importantly, can you see what’s not going on here when we trust the God described in this Psalm? There’s no:
free pass
get out of jail free card
free lunch
freedom from temptation.
There’s simply a promise; an assurance that while evil may deal you out, it won’t do you in. Your living here is not the sum and substance of your being on God’s mind and in God’s heart. And while that’s not likely to end your worry, trusting both the promise and the God who makes it can help you put your worry in perspective.
We’re probably not likely to grow a less fearful, less timid, less cowardly faith than the disciples in that boat did. But we can, like they did, stand in awe and wonder at what God gets us over and brings us through when our boat gets rocked.
We could begin to think and act as though the God who speaks these promises to us on Sunday is available to keep them through the rest of the week. We could recall a psalm we heard on Sunday and cease searching the rest of the week across the hills of television for words assurance from Oprah and Dr. Phil. We might recall a Psalm we heard on Sunday and stop probing the heavenly horoscope bodies for a sign that there’s another way out of no way besides God’s way.
Look at how this whole episode began – back to verse 4:35. Understanding God’s desire that Jesus go to the other side, where the land was filled with unworthy, non-believing Gentiles, those who followed Jesus got into a boat to go to unfamiliar, alien territory. And while the disciples lost sight of that goal; that destination; that mission, Jesus never did. So he slept confidently.
Like those members of Bethlehem, New Orleans whose homes we helped restore last week, our walk in faith is not a peril free passage on a cruise ship. It’s a journey with and toward God that takes us across the same geography, the same terrain; the same stormy waters Jesus traveled. It’s a crossing to the other side where those God loves as much as God loves us are waiting to be set free.
When we go to those places on that mission, we can trust that God is with us. We can have confidence that the God who bids us, “Go,” will guard our going out and our coming in, now and forever more.
by Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
where’s FEMA
what are the insurance companies doing
how come the mayor hasn’t fixed the street cars
why is LDR set up in the suburbs, not the inner city
who’s in charge of picking up all this trash
when will this city return to normal?
Strange as it may seem, we didn’t hear many of these questions from the members of Bethlehem. Stranger still, and maybe it’s because so much time has passed and the question is no longer relevant, or spoken aloud, we never heard one soul say, “Why us, why me?”
If you remember anything about the story of Job, you’ll remember that the questions, “Why; why me,” dominate the story.
And the answer Job hears from God, part of which we heard this morning, seems to offer little comfort. Even hearing the whole of God’s answer, from the first verse of chapter 38, mid-way through chapter 42, (which never gets much more consoling than this piece we heard) there’s not much to ease our human anxiety in the face of tragedies we can’t control.
Like Job’s three faith-filled friends, we who are believers in God and followers of God, often quickly come to God’s defense. We, like they, find it easier to blame the victim than to face God directly with questions about God’s wisdom and purposes.
I wish I knew how all this got started. For reasons I can’t explain - and I’m certainly including myself here - most of us operate along a faith-level that goes like this: “Once I’m in relationship with God, I’m on easy street. I’ll lose no more arguments; offend no one; have few financial concerns; experience little emotional upheaval; suffer no more accidents, face no problems, worries, or fears.”
Of course, we know it doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t even work that way on Sunday when we’re surrounded by believers, let alone the rest of the week when we’re swimming against the tide. Worse, no sooner than something “bad” does happen to a noble believer like us, the storm clouds roll in. We become flooded by doubt; we’re over our head with guilt.
In our best moments we tell ourselves that ours are just small concerns and this good, loving, powerful God is taking care of a bigger problem; maybe the Iraq war; or the genocide in Darfur; perhaps to fix New Orleans! In our worst moments we can find ourselves swamped by the feeling that somehow, somewhere along the way, we’ve reversed course and said “No,” to the God to whom we remember pledging a life-long. “Yes.” Now, in retribution for our backsliding, God has gone elsewhere to tend to more worthy believers.
Surely something like this is going on in the minds of Jesus’ disciples. Like Job’s friends, they, too, thought they had an inside track on God’s mind. In the verse just prior to this (4:34) Mark tells us that it was Jesus’ custom to take his disciples aside and explain to them the meaning of his teaching parables. Certainly, these special folk deserve special treatment – even from the forces of nature.
“Do you not care that we are perishing?” It’s an all too familiar question isn’t it? Now to be fair, we’re talking about a storm so fierce that the four of Jesus’ disciples who are professional fishermen are among those who fear for their lives.
Notice, also, that it’s not immediately clear that their waking Jesus is a plea for him to do something, or an expectation that he can change the outcome. Like as not, they simply wanted Jesus to share their panic.
I read an analysis from experts in stress management who found that only two percent of our “worrying time” is spent on things that might actually be helped by worrying. The other 98 percent is spent this way:
40% on things that never happen
35% on things that can’t be changed
15% on things that turn our better that we expected
8% on petty or useless worries.
So what does Jesus’ uninterrupted slumber mean; that he doesn’t care; that he’s above worrying? I’m remembering a conversation in the garden of Gethsemane that’s got an edge to it. I can recall a shout from the cross that sounds more than a little panicky. But in this moment, and what, no doubt, saw him over that edgy time and through that panicky time was trust, confidence. Not self-assurance, not self-reliance, but trust in God. Trust like that found in Psalm 121.
Do you see all that’s going on here – when we trust in the God described in this Psalm?
Just as importantly, can you see what’s not going on here when we trust the God described in this Psalm? There’s no:
free pass
get out of jail free card
free lunch
freedom from temptation.
There’s simply a promise; an assurance that while evil may deal you out, it won’t do you in. Your living here is not the sum and substance of your being on God’s mind and in God’s heart. And while that’s not likely to end your worry, trusting both the promise and the God who makes it can help you put your worry in perspective.
We’re probably not likely to grow a less fearful, less timid, less cowardly faith than the disciples in that boat did. But we can, like they did, stand in awe and wonder at what God gets us over and brings us through when our boat gets rocked.
We could begin to think and act as though the God who speaks these promises to us on Sunday is available to keep them through the rest of the week. We could recall a psalm we heard on Sunday and cease searching the rest of the week across the hills of television for words assurance from Oprah and Dr. Phil. We might recall a Psalm we heard on Sunday and stop probing the heavenly horoscope bodies for a sign that there’s another way out of no way besides God’s way.
Look at how this whole episode began – back to verse 4:35. Understanding God’s desire that Jesus go to the other side, where the land was filled with unworthy, non-believing Gentiles, those who followed Jesus got into a boat to go to unfamiliar, alien territory. And while the disciples lost sight of that goal; that destination; that mission, Jesus never did. So he slept confidently.
Like those members of Bethlehem, New Orleans whose homes we helped restore last week, our walk in faith is not a peril free passage on a cruise ship. It’s a journey with and toward God that takes us across the same geography, the same terrain; the same stormy waters Jesus traveled. It’s a crossing to the other side where those God loves as much as God loves us are waiting to be set free.
When we go to those places on that mission, we can trust that God is with us. We can have confidence that the God who bids us, “Go,” will guard our going out and our coming in, now and forever more.
by Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
There's More to Belief Than Believing!
Count on it. Like clock-work. As sure as April Fool's Day is on this year's calendar, so the mid-term congressional campaigns - especially in the south and west - will bring out the “god-squad.” These are persons whose belief in believing is deep-seated. They say they're dead-certain that every word of Scripture is both fact and truth - making the Living Word of God's Bible a dead-letter.
They're quick to scream about “deadly sins” in the bedroom, and much hushed about death-dealing boardrooms. They're quick to shout down gangsta rap, but deadly silent about predatory lending. With a dead-pan face they denounce a bishop, not because he's divorced and “remarried,” one of Jesus' only two sexual / genital no-no's, but because he's gay. They're dead-sure that prayer will revitalize public schools, as long as the prayer isn't the Hebrew / Jewish Shema - the prayer Jesus likely prayed every morning and evening.
They're dead-reckoning about who God is and what God wants leads them to believe in RELIGION. And woe (now and for eternity) to any sinner or outcast who won't yield, pay homage, and bear-up under its dead-weight.
There's more to belief than believing, especially if by believing you mean belief in the God of the Hebrew / Christian Bible. If you listen closely to the “god squad,” and that's not always easy to do, you'll likely discover that they rarely speak for this Bible's God, and only occasionally speak about this Bible's God.
What they rant and rave about is belief in a certain brand of RELIGION. That word's origins were neutral enough. Borrowed from medicine, it refers to a suture / ligature / stitch used to close a wound. Theologically, religion refers to those customs, codes, rituals and BELIEFS that believers “tie” themselves to in order to nurture their relationship with God. (Of course, these include those which we believe God has given / commanded us - for our freedom to maintain a life-giving relationship and a home-bringing encounter with God.) Sutures tied too loosely leave a wound open to infection, or severe scarring. Likewise, those tied too tightly can cause necrosis - the death of living tissue.
Religion's current bad rap, and believing's all over the map, should neither frighten us nor weary us. Someone once referred to the God we believe in and relate to as a “dear and glorious physician,” the Healer of our every woe - no matter if they come from our too loosening or our too tightening. This God's overriding characteristic is constancy in coming FOR us - never AT us - a God with plenty good room. The Messiah's religious ancestors call this steadfast-love. Our religious ancestors call this grace.
This God's coming is invitational, welcoming, and nurturing. Venturing forward in response to this God's call is discipling together as saints and sinners, not as screaming squadrons. That's why we rejoice so boldly in Whom we believe. Sometimes we call that relationship belief. Other times we call it religion. When we bank on this God's Word, trust this God's promises, feed at this God's table, break ourselves open and pour ourselves out in the name of this God, our believing - north, south, east and west - is rightly called Sharin' Plenty Good News!
by Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
They're quick to scream about “deadly sins” in the bedroom, and much hushed about death-dealing boardrooms. They're quick to shout down gangsta rap, but deadly silent about predatory lending. With a dead-pan face they denounce a bishop, not because he's divorced and “remarried,” one of Jesus' only two sexual / genital no-no's, but because he's gay. They're dead-sure that prayer will revitalize public schools, as long as the prayer isn't the Hebrew / Jewish Shema - the prayer Jesus likely prayed every morning and evening.
They're dead-reckoning about who God is and what God wants leads them to believe in RELIGION. And woe (now and for eternity) to any sinner or outcast who won't yield, pay homage, and bear-up under its dead-weight.
There's more to belief than believing, especially if by believing you mean belief in the God of the Hebrew / Christian Bible. If you listen closely to the “god squad,” and that's not always easy to do, you'll likely discover that they rarely speak for this Bible's God, and only occasionally speak about this Bible's God.
What they rant and rave about is belief in a certain brand of RELIGION. That word's origins were neutral enough. Borrowed from medicine, it refers to a suture / ligature / stitch used to close a wound. Theologically, religion refers to those customs, codes, rituals and BELIEFS that believers “tie” themselves to in order to nurture their relationship with God. (Of course, these include those which we believe God has given / commanded us - for our freedom to maintain a life-giving relationship and a home-bringing encounter with God.) Sutures tied too loosely leave a wound open to infection, or severe scarring. Likewise, those tied too tightly can cause necrosis - the death of living tissue.
Religion's current bad rap, and believing's all over the map, should neither frighten us nor weary us. Someone once referred to the God we believe in and relate to as a “dear and glorious physician,” the Healer of our every woe - no matter if they come from our too loosening or our too tightening. This God's overriding characteristic is constancy in coming FOR us - never AT us - a God with plenty good room. The Messiah's religious ancestors call this steadfast-love. Our religious ancestors call this grace.
This God's coming is invitational, welcoming, and nurturing. Venturing forward in response to this God's call is discipling together as saints and sinners, not as screaming squadrons. That's why we rejoice so boldly in Whom we believe. Sometimes we call that relationship belief. Other times we call it religion. When we bank on this God's Word, trust this God's promises, feed at this God's table, break ourselves open and pour ourselves out in the name of this God, our believing - north, south, east and west - is rightly called Sharin' Plenty Good News!
by Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
Mission Impossible: Keeping Politics Out of the Pulpit
There was a famous theologian, whose name I can’t remember, who gave this advice to preachers. He said; preach with the Bible in one hand, and the newspaper in the other. I’m not sure how often I do that. By that, I mean, both take advice from ivory tower theologians about how to preach, as well as use the newspaper as a resource for preaching. Today might be a good day to give that a whirl.
It seems strange to be preaching in a time and place where there’s so much talk about keeping politics out of the pulpit. Now there are many political and theological reasons why I believe that’s an impossible mission. I’ll spare you most of those. For now, let’s just hang with this one. At the very least, preaching is a way to share that God wants us to experience what we call life, and what we call faith as an integrated whole. To the ears of believers, preaching says there is no life apart from faith, and there is no faith that is not part of our everyday, lived reality.
The word, politics, is a combination of two Greek words. The first, politikos, means citizen; the second, polis, means city. So, preaching to people who trust that they live in, with, and under the God of Jesus, inevitably, speaks of, by and for the real, here and now world. Preaching that’s faithful to Jesus must be political.
Some of what has me going down this road is the sheer volume of theological issues that newspapers connect to political experiences of late. I’m thinking about:
California’s delaying an execution because doctors won’t participate
South Dakota’s new law banning all abortions
a New York attorney suing FEMA to get rent checks issued
and, the Supreme Court’s decision to hear a case on late term abortions.
It’s also a local trend. Here in our own polis, according to the newspaper, the House Speaker is appealing a federal judge’s ruling against prayer in the legislature. The newspaper also reports that two Indiana congressional representatives, motivated - they say - by their regard for prayer, are introducing a bill to strip federal courts’ oversight of speech in state legislatures.
Let me offer, then, to put a little theology into politics. There’s a level where what appears to be a court battle and legislative fight over the nature of prayer is on target. There’s no such thing as private prayer – at least not the kind of prayer we find in the Bible.
Now I know there are many folks who pray in quiet, secret, alone, or in solitary ways and places, but I’ve never met anyone who has taken anything to prayer that they don’t want to become public. Let me explain. You might pray to:
get married, word’s gonna get out
have a baby, folks are gonna notice
find a new job, your old boss will figure that out
stop drinking, the liquor store’s sales will fall
acquire a healing, the insurance company’s gonna hear that
win the lottery, the IRS will call you.
There’s simply no way you can come into dialogue - speaking and listening to the Lord of the universe who governs all things and whose Kingdom-will organizes the universe, and have the results of that prayer - the outcome of that speaking and listening - all to yourself. Didn’t work that way for Jesus, isn’t gonna work that way for you.
Mark says Jesus took his three closest disciples up a mountain. When Luke tells the story, he adds, “(they) went up to pray” (9:28). None of the evangelists tells us what Jesus says in prayer. Neither do we hear the disciples’ prayers. However, we do hear the response to that prayer, and, I suggest, we see the effects of that prayerful speaking and listening - both in Jesus and in the disciples.
Let’s not get there too quick. Let’s look, first, at how Jesus went to prayer. One thing that’s clear, Jesus doesn’t seem to wait to pray until all else has failed. Even in the garden, when Jesus looks to be feeling desperate, his is not the prayer of a desperate man. Even on the cross, when Jesus looks to be a desperate man, he prays a prayer, Psalm 22, which includes the phrase, “he did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him.”
The Jesus who prayed often alone, sometimes aloud, and frequently participated in public, communal prayer took seriously the words God spoke to Jeremiah,
I know the plans I have in mind for you - it is Yahweh who speaks - plans for peace, not disaster, reserving a future full of hope for you. Then when you call me, and come to plead with me, I will listen to you. When you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me. (29:11-14)
Jesus believed that prayer is a posture of relationship, not a ploy to manipulate God.
What Mark tells us about what’s happening on this mountain is one of those biblical encounters that’s much easier to describe than it is to explain. In many ways, it’s like the story of Moses and the burning bush. Even though we don’t really get much clarity about how it’s all goin’ down, we really do get a pretty good idea about what it all means.
Thankfully, Mark lets us in on both God’s response to Jesus prayer, and the effects of that prayer. In other words, this true prayer encounter all becomes public
In his prayer, Jesus was open to letting God show Jesus who God
knew Jesus to be, and how God saw Jesus. He did that, I’d suggest, in two simple ways. First, Jesus, in a posture of prayer, was no stranger to God. Second, because Jesus’ posture in prayer reflected an ongoing relationship with God, Jesus, let God get a word in edge-wise!
We can learn to do that. The same Spirit who anointed Jesus at his baptism filled us at ours. The Abba who announced Jesus’ son-ship to him has declared the same identity to us. This same God is as eager to find us, hold us, shape us, and love us, in a posture of prayer – a regular, ongoing, speaking / listening relationship.
Have you got 15 minutes? Can you get hold of a Psalm book, or a hymnal? Try reading the psalm or hymn and hear it as God speaking to you, before you begin your speaking to God. You might want to read it through more than once. The second time, simply letting your eyes fall across the page until a word leaps out, a word just for you.
Prayer is too awesome to be argued about in court. Prayer is too tremendous to be trivialized in legislation. Both of those realities should bring us to our knees, not to bare our knuckles.
It's not likely we’ll ever have a mountain top prayer experience that comes close to what Peter, James and John saw and heard. Few of us will start seeing the details of our lives in some grand biblical story line. But each of us is called to do what the heavenly voice said: Listen to Jesus, because he’s God’s beloved Son.
As we learn to listen, in prayer, even if we say silly-sounding things, we might just find the glory of God surrounding us. As we come with our whole, real selves before this loving, forgiving, way-making God, we might just find the road ahead of us lit up with new insight and clarity.
Then, no matter how high our prayer plateau, we could begin to see the real miracle of this story of a transformed Jesus. Despite the inability of his disciples, then and now, to grasp the fullness of Kingdom vision, Jesus keeps coming down with them, with us, never losing faith in us, loving us enough to die for. If preaching that reality is not a political act, I’ll send my next tax refund check back to the United States Treasury.
Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
It seems strange to be preaching in a time and place where there’s so much talk about keeping politics out of the pulpit. Now there are many political and theological reasons why I believe that’s an impossible mission. I’ll spare you most of those. For now, let’s just hang with this one. At the very least, preaching is a way to share that God wants us to experience what we call life, and what we call faith as an integrated whole. To the ears of believers, preaching says there is no life apart from faith, and there is no faith that is not part of our everyday, lived reality.
The word, politics, is a combination of two Greek words. The first, politikos, means citizen; the second, polis, means city. So, preaching to people who trust that they live in, with, and under the God of Jesus, inevitably, speaks of, by and for the real, here and now world. Preaching that’s faithful to Jesus must be political.
Some of what has me going down this road is the sheer volume of theological issues that newspapers connect to political experiences of late. I’m thinking about:
California’s delaying an execution because doctors won’t participate
South Dakota’s new law banning all abortions
a New York attorney suing FEMA to get rent checks issued
and, the Supreme Court’s decision to hear a case on late term abortions.
It’s also a local trend. Here in our own polis, according to the newspaper, the House Speaker is appealing a federal judge’s ruling against prayer in the legislature. The newspaper also reports that two Indiana congressional representatives, motivated - they say - by their regard for prayer, are introducing a bill to strip federal courts’ oversight of speech in state legislatures.
Let me offer, then, to put a little theology into politics. There’s a level where what appears to be a court battle and legislative fight over the nature of prayer is on target. There’s no such thing as private prayer – at least not the kind of prayer we find in the Bible.
Now I know there are many folks who pray in quiet, secret, alone, or in solitary ways and places, but I’ve never met anyone who has taken anything to prayer that they don’t want to become public. Let me explain. You might pray to:
get married, word’s gonna get out
have a baby, folks are gonna notice
find a new job, your old boss will figure that out
stop drinking, the liquor store’s sales will fall
acquire a healing, the insurance company’s gonna hear that
win the lottery, the IRS will call you.
There’s simply no way you can come into dialogue - speaking and listening to the Lord of the universe who governs all things and whose Kingdom-will organizes the universe, and have the results of that prayer - the outcome of that speaking and listening - all to yourself. Didn’t work that way for Jesus, isn’t gonna work that way for you.
Mark says Jesus took his three closest disciples up a mountain. When Luke tells the story, he adds, “(they) went up to pray” (9:28). None of the evangelists tells us what Jesus says in prayer. Neither do we hear the disciples’ prayers. However, we do hear the response to that prayer, and, I suggest, we see the effects of that prayerful speaking and listening - both in Jesus and in the disciples.
Let’s not get there too quick. Let’s look, first, at how Jesus went to prayer. One thing that’s clear, Jesus doesn’t seem to wait to pray until all else has failed. Even in the garden, when Jesus looks to be feeling desperate, his is not the prayer of a desperate man. Even on the cross, when Jesus looks to be a desperate man, he prays a prayer, Psalm 22, which includes the phrase, “he did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him.”
The Jesus who prayed often alone, sometimes aloud, and frequently participated in public, communal prayer took seriously the words God spoke to Jeremiah,
I know the plans I have in mind for you - it is Yahweh who speaks - plans for peace, not disaster, reserving a future full of hope for you. Then when you call me, and come to plead with me, I will listen to you. When you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me. (29:11-14)
Jesus believed that prayer is a posture of relationship, not a ploy to manipulate God.
What Mark tells us about what’s happening on this mountain is one of those biblical encounters that’s much easier to describe than it is to explain. In many ways, it’s like the story of Moses and the burning bush. Even though we don’t really get much clarity about how it’s all goin’ down, we really do get a pretty good idea about what it all means.
Thankfully, Mark lets us in on both God’s response to Jesus prayer, and the effects of that prayer. In other words, this true prayer encounter all becomes public
In his prayer, Jesus was open to letting God show Jesus who God
knew Jesus to be, and how God saw Jesus. He did that, I’d suggest, in two simple ways. First, Jesus, in a posture of prayer, was no stranger to God. Second, because Jesus’ posture in prayer reflected an ongoing relationship with God, Jesus, let God get a word in edge-wise!
We can learn to do that. The same Spirit who anointed Jesus at his baptism filled us at ours. The Abba who announced Jesus’ son-ship to him has declared the same identity to us. This same God is as eager to find us, hold us, shape us, and love us, in a posture of prayer – a regular, ongoing, speaking / listening relationship.
Have you got 15 minutes? Can you get hold of a Psalm book, or a hymnal? Try reading the psalm or hymn and hear it as God speaking to you, before you begin your speaking to God. You might want to read it through more than once. The second time, simply letting your eyes fall across the page until a word leaps out, a word just for you.
Prayer is too awesome to be argued about in court. Prayer is too tremendous to be trivialized in legislation. Both of those realities should bring us to our knees, not to bare our knuckles.
It's not likely we’ll ever have a mountain top prayer experience that comes close to what Peter, James and John saw and heard. Few of us will start seeing the details of our lives in some grand biblical story line. But each of us is called to do what the heavenly voice said: Listen to Jesus, because he’s God’s beloved Son.
As we learn to listen, in prayer, even if we say silly-sounding things, we might just find the glory of God surrounding us. As we come with our whole, real selves before this loving, forgiving, way-making God, we might just find the road ahead of us lit up with new insight and clarity.
Then, no matter how high our prayer plateau, we could begin to see the real miracle of this story of a transformed Jesus. Despite the inability of his disciples, then and now, to grasp the fullness of Kingdom vision, Jesus keeps coming down with them, with us, never losing faith in us, loving us enough to die for. If preaching that reality is not a political act, I’ll send my next tax refund check back to the United States Treasury.
Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
Friday, September 22, 2006
Give God Some Elbow Room
Some of us spend a great deal of time marveling at a wondrous, far-off God. That's the God who shows up in: sunrises on the beach; new-born babies; rainbows; mountain snow peaks; and, autumn's bright hued leaves. Others of us spend a good bit of time fleeing from the God who scares the blazes out of us with tornadoes; tsunamis; hurricanes; blizzards; and frightening diagnoses.
What do you suppose God has to do to get our attention in our everyday-ness? If you think about it, the God who's promised to be with us - in Jesus - until the end of the age, had to have yesterday - TODAY - and tomorrow in mind when the promise was made!
Perhaps you missed God yesterday, and though you may hope to notice God more keenly tomorrow, tomorrow isn't here yet. So, while tomorrow is certainly God's, it's not quite yet ours. All we have is today. ALL we have is today. Need we more?
God could elbow a way into your life through a telephone call, an e-mail, a chance encounter at school or work, on a blog-site - even in your home. God can do anything, likely quite easily, except, it seems, changing our minds about where God is, increasing our awareness of God’s presence, and deepening our trust in God's promises.
I'm don’t doubt God's ability to change hearts and minds. I am pointing out how sharp God's elbows feel when God finds it necessarily graceful to rearrange my heart and my mind! Is it the same or different for you?
Looking for God, expecting God to show up day-by-day seems to be a more dignified and human enterprise than does waiting around all day in hopes of being wowed by an orange western sky, or spending an afternoon trying to outrun a storm. Trouble is, for too many of us, the echoes of biblical phrases like, “God's ways are not our ways,” block our ears from hearing and our eyes from seeing the new approaches a close-by God might make, just for us. So we lull ourselves into forgetting the promise that "until the end of the age," if it includes any day, captures this day, this hour, this minute, this moment in time. We’ll look for God “later;” maybe “over there.”
God's heart's desire is to be in relationship with each of us - now. That means we get to look for, and be surprised by God. The kind of God who is content to uncross loving, formerly nailed-up, arms and stick an elbow into our forgetful hearts, using the most close-up, ordinary people as well as close-by, ordinary circumstances to make it so.
What do you suppose God has to do to get our attention in our everyday-ness? If you think about it, the God who's promised to be with us - in Jesus - until the end of the age, had to have yesterday - TODAY - and tomorrow in mind when the promise was made!
Perhaps you missed God yesterday, and though you may hope to notice God more keenly tomorrow, tomorrow isn't here yet. So, while tomorrow is certainly God's, it's not quite yet ours. All we have is today. ALL we have is today. Need we more?
God could elbow a way into your life through a telephone call, an e-mail, a chance encounter at school or work, on a blog-site - even in your home. God can do anything, likely quite easily, except, it seems, changing our minds about where God is, increasing our awareness of God’s presence, and deepening our trust in God's promises.
I'm don’t doubt God's ability to change hearts and minds. I am pointing out how sharp God's elbows feel when God finds it necessarily graceful to rearrange my heart and my mind! Is it the same or different for you?
Looking for God, expecting God to show up day-by-day seems to be a more dignified and human enterprise than does waiting around all day in hopes of being wowed by an orange western sky, or spending an afternoon trying to outrun a storm. Trouble is, for too many of us, the echoes of biblical phrases like, “God's ways are not our ways,” block our ears from hearing and our eyes from seeing the new approaches a close-by God might make, just for us. So we lull ourselves into forgetting the promise that "until the end of the age," if it includes any day, captures this day, this hour, this minute, this moment in time. We’ll look for God “later;” maybe “over there.”
God's heart's desire is to be in relationship with each of us - now. That means we get to look for, and be surprised by God. The kind of God who is content to uncross loving, formerly nailed-up, arms and stick an elbow into our forgetful hearts, using the most close-up, ordinary people as well as close-by, ordinary circumstances to make it so.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
More Than Bunnies Keep Going and Going and Going
If you're still seeking Jesus, and I hope you are, where are you looking? Are you looking in the same old places? What would it take for you to venture into some new places? And while we're talking about if you're looking, and where you might be looking, let's also be thinking about how you'd go about recognizing Jesus if you saw him! [Don't forget, too, that a good many holy people say when you're looking for Jesus, Jesus always finds you first.]
An angel is quoted as asking Jesus’ dearest friends, "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" Taking a cue from that, besides not hanging out in cemeteries, we might consider that our old hang-outs, even when we've met God there before, may not be the only or the best places for us to be seeing the Jesus who wants to be meeting us today.
That's right. Jesus wants to meet us today. Jesus' resurrection not only means Jesus is alive, it means God is on the loose. Think about it. When Jesus showed up immediately after the resurrection, he was disguised, variously, as someone doing the gardening, a religious pilgrim dining in a hotel, then as a beach front chef cooking breakfast for his friends. Sounds like God on the loose to me!
The point is, most of the verbs in this piece end in "-ing." And we all learned that "-ing" words mean, “this keeps going on.” We keep looking. Jesus keeps walking. We keep seeking. Jesus keeps showing up. We keep heading back home. Jesus keeps saying, "There's a place up ahead where we can eat some good food and share a good Word." We keep heading back empty handed. Jesus keeps preparing meals we didn't plan on eating, in places we hadn't planned on visiting.
Here at First Trinity we live in and under a few other "-ing" words. Our vision statement begins with the word, "Sharin’.” What an odd word to give focus to an organization in this get and keep all you can world! Because there's plenty of what we're sharing, more than any of us has need of, we can walk confidently in the rest of the "-ing" words we value here as we keep following Jesus: inviting; welcoming; discipling; nurturing; healing; and, rejoicing.
When these attitudes keep moving from our hearts into our hands and feet, there's simply no telling what disguise we'll see Jesus wear-ing each day.
An angel is quoted as asking Jesus’ dearest friends, "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" Taking a cue from that, besides not hanging out in cemeteries, we might consider that our old hang-outs, even when we've met God there before, may not be the only or the best places for us to be seeing the Jesus who wants to be meeting us today.
That's right. Jesus wants to meet us today. Jesus' resurrection not only means Jesus is alive, it means God is on the loose. Think about it. When Jesus showed up immediately after the resurrection, he was disguised, variously, as someone doing the gardening, a religious pilgrim dining in a hotel, then as a beach front chef cooking breakfast for his friends. Sounds like God on the loose to me!
The point is, most of the verbs in this piece end in "-ing." And we all learned that "-ing" words mean, “this keeps going on.” We keep looking. Jesus keeps walking. We keep seeking. Jesus keeps showing up. We keep heading back home. Jesus keeps saying, "There's a place up ahead where we can eat some good food and share a good Word." We keep heading back empty handed. Jesus keeps preparing meals we didn't plan on eating, in places we hadn't planned on visiting.
Here at First Trinity we live in and under a few other "-ing" words. Our vision statement begins with the word, "Sharin’.” What an odd word to give focus to an organization in this get and keep all you can world! Because there's plenty of what we're sharing, more than any of us has need of, we can walk confidently in the rest of the "-ing" words we value here as we keep following Jesus: inviting; welcoming; discipling; nurturing; healing; and, rejoicing.
When these attitudes keep moving from our hearts into our hands and feet, there's simply no telling what disguise we'll see Jesus wear-ing each day.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
PhraseWorthy People
Some call it a slogan. Many say it's a motto. A few refer to it as a tag line. Others, sophisticates I presume, name it a vision statement. By any name, the phrase, Sharin' Plenty Good News! - intends to capture our minds and hearts and focus the energies of the people God calls, gathers, and equips in this place to be and to do church.
In my faith walk, the phrase both shows what I believe and keeps my feet moving toward where the God who speaks to my head and my heart leads me. That's clearest to me when I find myself wondering if I'm holding back, clinging to "not enough," or disappointing someone by not meeting their needs.
In my head I never want to think of myself as a hoarder. My heart recoils from distrusting that God provides all we need. And both my hands and feet flinch when my halting voice speaks the word "No," to someone who's expressed a need. Just about the time I'm ready to despair, God finds a way to remind me that this awesome phrase doesn't belong to me. Rather, these words - Sharin' Plenty Good News! - are but one way to speak of God's gift to us, and to express God's claim on us.
Us! This odd, haphazard collection of uniquely gifted, sometimes feint-hearted, mostly generous, frequently uninterested, usually caring, occasionally indifferent, generally warm, welcoming and forgiving children of God! Somehow, despite our flaws, foibles, and tendencies toward missing the mark (sin), much of what goes on here is newsworthy.
Folks commit themselves and their babies to receive God’s transforming promises, in Baptism. Everyone finds an equally awesome place at a Table where gnawing hunger is sated by a wafer of bread, and burning thirst is quenched with a sip of wine. Couples covenant themselves to each other in marriage. Tearfully, loved ones claim resurrection in Jesus' name, at the feet of their dead. We teach children what we know about whom and how God is FOR us. Alone and together we praise God, each week, for all that's happened. Even before God has a chance to act, we say, "Thanks, in advance," for all God will do in us and through us in the week ahead.
In suffering and joyfulness we struggle to hear a new word from God and interpret familiar words in new ways. We pray here, in loud song and in unheard non-verbals, that we might name and claim the fruits of God's forgiving love for us, and for this broken world.
In, with, and under one name, Jesus, we cross the boundaries of selfishness, scarcity, and staleness - bold to keep on Shairn’ Plenty Good News!
Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
In my faith walk, the phrase both shows what I believe and keeps my feet moving toward where the God who speaks to my head and my heart leads me. That's clearest to me when I find myself wondering if I'm holding back, clinging to "not enough," or disappointing someone by not meeting their needs.
In my head I never want to think of myself as a hoarder. My heart recoils from distrusting that God provides all we need. And both my hands and feet flinch when my halting voice speaks the word "No," to someone who's expressed a need. Just about the time I'm ready to despair, God finds a way to remind me that this awesome phrase doesn't belong to me. Rather, these words - Sharin' Plenty Good News! - are but one way to speak of God's gift to us, and to express God's claim on us.
Us! This odd, haphazard collection of uniquely gifted, sometimes feint-hearted, mostly generous, frequently uninterested, usually caring, occasionally indifferent, generally warm, welcoming and forgiving children of God! Somehow, despite our flaws, foibles, and tendencies toward missing the mark (sin), much of what goes on here is newsworthy.
Folks commit themselves and their babies to receive God’s transforming promises, in Baptism. Everyone finds an equally awesome place at a Table where gnawing hunger is sated by a wafer of bread, and burning thirst is quenched with a sip of wine. Couples covenant themselves to each other in marriage. Tearfully, loved ones claim resurrection in Jesus' name, at the feet of their dead. We teach children what we know about whom and how God is FOR us. Alone and together we praise God, each week, for all that's happened. Even before God has a chance to act, we say, "Thanks, in advance," for all God will do in us and through us in the week ahead.
In suffering and joyfulness we struggle to hear a new word from God and interpret familiar words in new ways. We pray here, in loud song and in unheard non-verbals, that we might name and claim the fruits of God's forgiving love for us, and for this broken world.
In, with, and under one name, Jesus, we cross the boundaries of selfishness, scarcity, and staleness - bold to keep on Shairn’ Plenty Good News!
Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
Thursday, September 14, 2006
You'll Know a Church Home When You Find It!
In less than three minutes I can provide you with the ten top things to look for when choosing child care, adult day care, a nursing home, or a school. So I was struck by the way I fumbled for words when a young couple I met with for pre-marital counseling asked, “How do we choose a church?” Given my day-job, shouldn’t that be a real softball question? How would you respond?
Now I know what Martin Luther - the founder of Protestantism - might have said, “Go where the Word of God (Gospel) is preached boldly and the sacraments are administered rightly.” But given the emotional territory we’d been wandering in for many hours over several weeks, those words seemed to say less than what this couple needed to hear - and maybe too much like what a professional minister ought to say. I “backed-in” to a more authentic response.
I began by saying how I wouldn’t choose a church:
· location is unimportant
· worship format is only a marginal concern
· music style is a so-so
· preaching is not the highest priority
· “brand name” / denomination is peripheral
· programming for my kids is totally irrelevant.
This last piece opened my eyes and my heart.
For me, feeling that the people gathered for worship share a sense of being Spirit-led and Spirit-fed, makes a congregation worthy of deeper exploration. I’d explore by attending worship for at least six weeks in a row. Then I’d begin to sense whether or not those who claim membership in this particular embodiment of what God has done, and is doing in Christ, are:
· traveling a personal faith journey together
· seeking to hear and respond to the voice of God
· attending to what God is here after, not the hereafter
· making bold claims about God’s work to save the world, not their work to save souls
· judging issues, not people
· asking God, and each other, for help to walk in ways that bring life and faith together.
In short, I want to be part of a transforming community. A mysterious gathering of folk God sets me within to: help me be the image of God, despite the fact that I keep missing the mark (sinning); trust that God chooses to love me; believe God longs to use me to express what life and world under the holy rule of God can be like for all God’s people.
A transforming community links my story to the story of the Bible’s God. That story doesn’t end exile, stop suffering, pooh-pooh real pain, or shrink from the struggle against injustice. It promises that through it all, this God is God-with-us, this God-for-us.
A transforming community doesn’t compete with the world’s agencies to make a better world. Rather, it gives hands-on testimony to God’s presence, creating and saving world moment-by-moment, heart-by-heart.
A transforming community doesn’t lust after worldly power. It joins God’s power - which can even overcome death - by breaking self open and pouring self out, in the manner of Jesus and his cross.
A transforming community is less interested in doing the business of God’s judging and more interested in witnessing to the godly enterprise of compassion - that wombing expression of God’s own heart that makes a way out of no-way, by word and water.
A transforming community doesn’t put demands on me. It liberates me from all that the world says I must do to make my own meaning. And frees me to receive and express God’s commitment to me in bread and wine, by what God lets me do in the world.
A transforming community challenges me to change, holds me accountable when I won’t, forgives me when I don’t.
We’ve saved a place for you to renew your identity in a transforming community at worship this Sunday morning at 10:45 A.M. Come as you are. Leave differently. Three minutes gets you a decent soft-boiled egg. Sharin’ Plenty Good News, living life in the Spirit, takes a bit more time and lots more grace!
Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
Now I know what Martin Luther - the founder of Protestantism - might have said, “Go where the Word of God (Gospel) is preached boldly and the sacraments are administered rightly.” But given the emotional territory we’d been wandering in for many hours over several weeks, those words seemed to say less than what this couple needed to hear - and maybe too much like what a professional minister ought to say. I “backed-in” to a more authentic response.
I began by saying how I wouldn’t choose a church:
· location is unimportant
· worship format is only a marginal concern
· music style is a so-so
· preaching is not the highest priority
· “brand name” / denomination is peripheral
· programming for my kids is totally irrelevant.
This last piece opened my eyes and my heart.
For me, feeling that the people gathered for worship share a sense of being Spirit-led and Spirit-fed, makes a congregation worthy of deeper exploration. I’d explore by attending worship for at least six weeks in a row. Then I’d begin to sense whether or not those who claim membership in this particular embodiment of what God has done, and is doing in Christ, are:
· traveling a personal faith journey together
· seeking to hear and respond to the voice of God
· attending to what God is here after, not the hereafter
· making bold claims about God’s work to save the world, not their work to save souls
· judging issues, not people
· asking God, and each other, for help to walk in ways that bring life and faith together.
In short, I want to be part of a transforming community. A mysterious gathering of folk God sets me within to: help me be the image of God, despite the fact that I keep missing the mark (sinning); trust that God chooses to love me; believe God longs to use me to express what life and world under the holy rule of God can be like for all God’s people.
A transforming community links my story to the story of the Bible’s God. That story doesn’t end exile, stop suffering, pooh-pooh real pain, or shrink from the struggle against injustice. It promises that through it all, this God is God-with-us, this God-for-us.
A transforming community doesn’t compete with the world’s agencies to make a better world. Rather, it gives hands-on testimony to God’s presence, creating and saving world moment-by-moment, heart-by-heart.
A transforming community doesn’t lust after worldly power. It joins God’s power - which can even overcome death - by breaking self open and pouring self out, in the manner of Jesus and his cross.
A transforming community is less interested in doing the business of God’s judging and more interested in witnessing to the godly enterprise of compassion - that wombing expression of God’s own heart that makes a way out of no-way, by word and water.
A transforming community doesn’t put demands on me. It liberates me from all that the world says I must do to make my own meaning. And frees me to receive and express God’s commitment to me in bread and wine, by what God lets me do in the world.
A transforming community challenges me to change, holds me accountable when I won’t, forgives me when I don’t.
We’ve saved a place for you to renew your identity in a transforming community at worship this Sunday morning at 10:45 A.M. Come as you are. Leave differently. Three minutes gets you a decent soft-boiled egg. Sharin’ Plenty Good News, living life in the Spirit, takes a bit more time and lots more grace!
Pastor Jeff Iacobazzi
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