Perichoresis

I grew up with a Preschool Music Teacher as a mother. Every time we got into the car it was an opportunity for her to do research with my brother and me as test subjects. We have heard more children's music tapes than you would believe even exist.

The song that has stayed with me most is Tom Chapin's "Great Big Words," which extols the virtues of excessively ponderous verbiage, or as the song's chorus puts it: Great big words, I like big words.

On a Sunday celebrating the trinity, one runs into a bunch of Great Big Words. I think this is largely because the trinity is one of descriptions of God that we can only understand by faith, because mortal minds can't wrap around the bigness of our God in three persons, who is still one God, and yet each person is also the full expression of God. Western Theologians have sought for generations to find an image that adequately portrays the Trinity, and nobody has succeeded. Every image either leans too far towards "God is one" or "God is three" So we professional theologians hide behind our big words so that we can look smart even while we admit that God is greater than our ability to describe God.

Today's sermon title is one of those big words: Perichoresis.

Having grown up singing songs about liking big words, and then majoring in English at Presbyterian College, I've become one of those people who talks about grammar and stuff for fun. So I'm going to take down the big-word mask and break it up so I can't hide behind it.

Perichoresis is the word you get when you mash "perimeter" and "choreography" together. One is the measurement around something, the other is dancing. Perichoresis, therefore, is dancing around together. We get it from the Eastern branches of the Christian Church, who use the image of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit dancing together to grab hold of the mystery of the trinity.

The dancing trinity shows how closely and joyfully the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit work together, and that's the image I want us to hold in our Genesis passage. "When God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth, being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and the Spirit of God sweeping over the water." Already the dance has begun, sweeping back and forth over the world before it even existed.

The word-lover in me is excitedly caught up in how artfully our Genesis passage is woven together. The shape of this creation story as first God builds and then fills creation, placing the capstone of God's blessing as God rests on the sabbath day. The way all the components relate with one another fills the Creator with joy. It doesn't just tell a story, story itself dances within the text, taking familiar steps each day: beginning each day with "God said..." and ending each one with "And there was evening, and there was morning..." The first three days God separates and creates space, light is separated from dark, the waters are separated by an expanse, and dry land is separated from water. Then in the next three days the sky is filled with greater and lesser lights, the sky and sea are filled with birds and fish, and the dry land is filled with all manner of animal life, including us!

Then on day seven, the dance moves we learned from days one through six are capped off with a blessing, with sabbath, with rest, "The heaven and the earth were finished, and all their array. On the seventh day God finished the work that he had been doing, and he ceased on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy, because on it God ceased from all the work of creation that he had done."

My Dad is a woodworker, always tinkering with some project or another in his shop. As soon as I was old enough to listen when I was told "Don't touch, you'll hurt yourself" he started inviting me to come help him on whatever project he was working on at the time. I might be reading or watching television and he would walk past and say "How about giving me a hand?" There was always an understanding that he would still love me if I said "No," but I usually jumped up from what I was doing anyway.

We would work for a while, sometimes until we were at a convenient stopping point, sometimes the stopping point came when Dad was frustrated and needed to walk away before he smashed the project into a thousand pieces.

Once we were done for the night, he'd pour himself a glass of wine and we'd sit out on the back porch, resting because our work for the day was done. We still work in the shop together when we visit one another. These days I'll have a glass as well, and that's the image I have of sabbath: a couple of people, lightly dusted with wood shavings, sitting with their feet up talking about the world after a long day of work.

Even holding up the images of Sabbath rest and the dancing trinity, this bible story is still very familiar. I've read this bible story more times than I can count, I've even preached on it before at an evening prayer service. Every time I read it through the words of Paul's letter to the church in Rome, "God speaks into being things which do not exist." God says "Lights!" and suddenly from everywhere and from nowhere, light floods the scene. But this time I noticed something different: "Let there be..."

In this passage, God's creative word is an invitation. "Let there be..." And at God's creative invitation, light, and an expanse, and dry land, and vegetation, and lights, and swarms of living creatures, and every kind of living creature, and people, all joyfully leap into existence.

In a world where folks very seriously and sternly debate precisely how the cosmos came into being, and the timetable in which it happened, the idea of joyfully answering God's invitation sweeps the perspective so far that we almost don't know it when we see it. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are having so much fun dancing together that God wants more dance partners! They say "Dance with me!" and light suddenly dances across the darkness, land dances between the waters, birds dance in the air, fish in the sea, animals dance on land and God sees that it is good!

Then God gets an idea: "And God said, 'Let us make [people] in our image, after our likeness. They shall rule the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, the cattle, the whole earth, and all the creeping things that creep on earth.' And God created a human in his image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them."

Just by being people we are answering God's invitation to dance alongside the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But because we are created in God's image, we are able to join participate in what God is doing in so many other ways, and we can celebrate each other the way the three persons of the Trinity joyfully dance around together!

This church is one body, but "none is the full image of God alone. Only in community of humankind is God reflected." We each are invited to dance alongside God, and none of us can see the full image of God in our own dance, no matter how sweet our dance moves may be.

Each summer for the last several years, I've been invited to serve on staff at Tri-Cities Workcamp, which is sort of a mix of church camp and mission trip. During the day, youth are sent out into inner-city Petersburg to do home repair in some of the most run-down neighborhoods in the city. After their daily work is done, we come together to share a meal and do an evening program. As the night draws to a close and we get ready to send the campers off to dessert and then to sleep, we invite a few folks to come forward and tell the whole camp where they saw God that day.

There's always a moment or two of silence, and then someone who has come to Workcamp for years will pop up, stride over to the stage and share their experience of God, and how they were able to participate in God's continuing acts of creation. Then another camper, perhaps a little younger, a little less sure of themselves, will take their place and share as well. And the kingdom of God gathered in that place will celebrate both of their stories, clapping and joyfully shouting even before they make it to the microphone because the invitation has been answered.

Workcamp is one of those communities where I have seen a slightly clearer image of God. This church is, and will be, another community where our congregation, and others around us, can see the image of God, sweeping over the waters, dancing through creation, joyfully doing the work God invites us to do!

But like all people, and all communities, we're broken. We're a little afraid of looking silly when no one else seems to be joining the dance. It's so much easier to stand at the edges and watch what God is doing than to answer the invitation ourselves. We don't even fully understand what God is doing. We only have access to a piece of the greatness of God, a small part of the dance that God has chosen to share with us. It's more comfortable to hide behind our big words, even if it means trading joyful faces for stern looks.

When we got so wrapped up that we could not recognize the image of God, God the Son, the Word spoken at creation, came to us to get us out on the floor! We know him as Jesus of Nazareth, God-with-us, the Word made flesh. Just as God created people in God's image so that we could share relationship with God, so we are created anew through the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. Jesus brings us back into communion with God. After the resurrection, Matthew's gospel tells us a story of a new invitation to participate in what God is doing in the world.

"Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus told them to go. When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted. Jesus came near and spoke to them, 'I've received all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I've commanded you. Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age.'"

Still learning to dance, still learning to joyfully leap into the world where God is at work, some of the disciples doubted. They were so used to their brokenness they didn't know how to live in a world made new by the God who was dancing around it. Maybe they still saw themselves as broken, or couldn't accept that God loved them anyway. Maybe they didn't understand how God was still able to work after Jesus had been killed on a cross. Maybe they would rather hide behind big words than admit they didn't really know what was going on.

But even when we don't get it, even when we can't find the beat and our dance moves are terrible, God still extends the invitation, because it's not about who's the best dancer, it's about answering God's invitation to join in the work of the kingdom. It's about joyfully living as people created in the image of God. God's sovereignty is an invitation to communion with God. In a broken world that is still distorted by sin, "the good news is that life in God's well-ordered world can be joyous and grateful response."

So even though we know only in part, "We take a fragmentary community, fragmentary faith, a fragmentary understanding of the Trinitarian God, and we go into the world with everything Jesus has taught us." One day we will know fully, even as we are fully known.

God is dancing around the whole of creation, and is inviting us to dance alongside the Perichoresis. How will you answer God's invitation to join the work of the Kingdom of God?

Here's one suggestion from a guy named Jesus: "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I've commanded you. Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age."

Kind of makes you want to dance, doesn't it?

How to talk to dying people - Rev. Dan McCurdy

My friend Rev. Dan McCurdy, a pastor in Wisconsin, posted this on a Facebook group of which we are both members. I think it's one of the most important things I've seen on the internet. It's reposted here with his permission. Often times, in my experience, clergy and chaplains are looked to for this kind of ministry so that family/friends don't have to. However we often have other responsibilities, one of which is to equip families/friends to deal with these kinds of life changes.

So many people, when confronted with a dying person, avoid them because "they don't know what to say."
This is largely a byproduct of feeling like you need to cheer the other person up, or "make them okay with it." Given how rarely we are OKAY with it (especially if we love the one who is dying) this is a tall order. Luckily, it's not ACTUALLY our job.
So here's how you talk to a dying person.
1. Show up. This is 90% of the battle. So long as you aren't especially, near intentionally horrible, the mere fact that you arrived will make your visit a highlight of their day. The Western fear of death means that many people wind up dying alone, avoided by those who care for them. So show up, and you're off to a good start/
2. Touch them. This goes under the sub-heading of showing up... in the end stages of death, as people become less and less aware of what is happening around them, physical contact makes your presence a little more real. Most of the time, what is killing the person isn't contagious through simple physical contact, so unless there are signs around warning you off, feel free to put a hand on their arm or shoulder. (Washing your hands before you walk into the room, of course.) A lot of dying people go days at a time without being touched in a friendly way. It helps them feel more human in a time where a lot of their humanity is being taken from them.
3. "How is Today?" At least once, by accident, you will give your dying friend or loved one the opportunity for the best joke dying has given them... "How are you?" "I'm dying. You?" After the fun of that, a better greeting is "How is Today?" Terminal diseases have good days and bad days. This is a way to find out how they are feeling on this specific day, and lets you know what is going on.
4. Don't be afraid to talk about yourself. A dying person often feels like the world around them is gone... people around them only talking about the disease, funeral arrangements, travel plans, etc. If they ask you questions about what you are up to, don't feel the need to turn the conversation back around onto them, saying; "Well, that's not important right now..." let them dictate what is important, If that includes asking if you've beaten your high score on Candy Crush Saga yet, answer them.
5. Watch for leading questions. If they ask you a question like; "What do YOU think happens when we die," give your answer with a nutshell, and then ask them what they think. These questions are often looking for an opportunity to explore some murky concepts. Tell the truth, and listen for the truth they tell when you return the question.
6. Let them steer the conversation. If the deep talk gets to deep, they'll yank the wheel and take it somewhere else entirely. Let them. In a world where more and more decisions are being taken from them, allow them to dictate this.
7. Do not compulsively fill every silence. If they go quiet, and you don't have anything to say, don't feel the need to babble for the sake of babbling. Silence can be golden.
8. When the time comes to leave, make definite plans to come back. Whenever possible, pick an exact date and time. "I'll see you around" is too nebulous and opens up a strong possibility of "Is this the last time I'll see you." It can ruin a happy day. So be definite. It doesn't assure anything, but it sure leaves the visit on a strong note.
And finally, remember that no matter how far gone they are, until the very end, unless they were clinically deaf before, assume that they can hear you. Talk TO them when you are in the room, instead of always talking over them. Tell them that you love them, that you'll miss them, anything you need to say.
And when the time comes, say goodbye.

Language of Faith

We disciples have been waiting for a long time.

At first we were waiting for a messiah, the long hoped-for savior who would restore the covenant with Israel. A savior who would reunite the twelve tribes and free us from the Roman Empire's occupying influence.

He came, a man named Jesus of Nazareth, and he was the Christ, the son of God. He walked through our lives in a way that gave us hope, healing and teaching us wherever we went.

But he ascended into heaven about a week ago, taken up like Elijah from our sight. He told us to wait, that the Holy Spirit would be given to us, and that we would be sent out from Jerusalem to all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

So we wait.

This Holy Spirit, this advocate whom Jesus is sending is going to be different than the way we knew Jesus when he walked alongside us on the earth, or when he walked up the hill to the cross, or when he walked towards us over the water. We didn't always understand Jesus's actions, but at least we could see what he was doing, hoping that we would understand it later.

The Spirit of God though? How will that lead us? What even will it look like?

Our Lord told us to wait, so we have stayed in the city for these fifty days since Passover, to the festival of booths, called Pentecost by those of us who speak the language of commerce and trade.

Our church has been waiting too, just like the disciples. We've celebrated seven Sundays in the Easter season, watching Jesus appear to the disciples in different ways each week, showing them the truth of the Resurrection. We're still waiting.

Many of us have been waiting for the end of the school year, for the end of exams and standardized tests  for the chance to go on summer vacation with our families and friends. Beaches and mountain cabins called to us as our schedules relaxed enough to allow us to get out into this great world that our God has created and lay our burdens down, at least for a time.

Many of us were waiting for a new Pastor, trusting that our church could finally move forward once there was stability in this pulpit, that we could resume the work that has meant so much to us when we pass stories of our own golden age around the lunch tables and meeting rooms in our lives.

We disciples have been waiting for a long time.

Throughout all our waiting, and that of the disciples who have gone before us, the Holy Spirit has already been working around us, through us, and on us, hovering over the surface of the waters even in the beginning. Speaking through leaders of the ancient Israelites, descending like a dove at Christ's Baptism, present and active inspiring artists and writers to declare the mighty works of God and calling God's people to gather with one another.

Like the disciples, we are gathered together in one place, waiting for we don't know, something amazing we guess.

But the something amazing for which we are waiting is already at work in us, and has guided us through the myriad experiences in our lives so that we can use our whole selves in the worship of God. Our mouths will tell the story, our hearts will beat with God's righteousness and grace, our minds will grapple with the great questions of faith, our hands will build up the kingdom of God, but these classic, images of faithful living are not the only ways to declare the mighty works of God. The Holy Spirit speaks through every language of faith, calling every aspect of our lives to the service of the Lord of heaven and earth.

A friend of mine, before she came to seminary, worked as a clown at Six Flags. It's a bit of an unconventional background, but she put her talents to work through puppet shows for community children, facepainting at church festivals, and when the pastor found out she could juggle, he made special plans for the following Pentecost.

Because other than speaking in tongues, the image most closely associated with this church holiday is the presence of the tongues of fire. So when the worship service came to a close at Pentecost that year, the church processed out and found her juggling torches, fire flying through the air, drifting in the gusts of wind, a powerful image that God gives us gifts so that we can give them back, no matter how clownish the gift may seem at first.

The Pentecost we celebrate today saw a crowd congregate at the outpouring of the Spirit's gifts just as that congregation crowded around their theological fire-juggler. "There were pious Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6When they heard this sound, a crowd gathered. They were mystified because everyone heard them speaking in their native languages. 7They were surprised and amazed,"

The Pentecost of the Old Testament celebrate the gifts of God in the harvest, the promised land, and the Torah. The Gift of the Holy Spirit in our scripture this morning adds to that list with different gifts. The Holy Spirit in this story of acts is giving people the ability to speak in tongues so that they can communicate, not as the ecstatic acts we see depicted on television or even in other places in scripture. Those moments are meaningful to those who experience them, but something altogether different is going on here.

Though some who overhear the disciples hear mass hysteria, it is instead an act of mass prophesy. The disciples who are filled with the Holy Spirit are speaking on behalf of God, declaring God's mighty works to all who might listen. The crowd which has gathered is made of up Jews from every nation under heaven, they are the covenant people who have been raised on these same stories of the mighty works of God. They know the stories of creation, of the great flood, of the liberation from slavery in Egypt, of David and Goliath, of the return from captivity in Babylon, where time and time again the LORD has shown that there is truly a God in Israel.

We are heirs to that tradition, and telling God's story is a privilege, not a burden. When we are filled with the Holy Spirit, it comes bubbling out of us in every way we could possibly express it.

Seminary begins with this thing called "Greek School." It's a two-month course wherein the students learn to read the New Testament in the language in which it was written. For eight weeks we become a semi-monastic community that eats, sleeps, and drinks Greek vocabulary and grammar. During the course of that term we are broken up into small groups and each group is responsibly for leading daily worship for one of the eight weeks. At the beginning of the term we pass around a sheet of paper on which each classmate writes down gifts they would love to offer as worship leadership.

Turns out we had some musicians in our class: a saxophonist, a drummer, a guitarist, a bass player, and me on the trombone. So one day in chapel we had a jazz band lead worship.

I've played Jazz since I was in the 10th grade, and it payed for part of my college education, but church music in our tradition calls for more Bach than in does the Blues. The centuries of tradition have given Back an aura of reverence, making its place in our prelude this morning all the more appropriate. The improvisation in a Jazz solo, however, tends to lend itself towards celebrating the individual musician, rather than pointing to God as worship should.

So I had always maintained an intentional distance between the language of jazz and the words we offer in worship. But for one chapel service during Greek School, those two were merged.

It very well may have set the tone for the rest of my seminary career.

Because in that service, someone offered a different perspective on the improvised jazz solo, not as an opportunity to celebrate my skill, or even to have a conversation with my fellow musicians, but to offer a prayer through the language of jazz improv, expressing joy and gratitude to God for all of his mighty works, and for the gifts that allowed me to sing his praises. That perspective, offered in passing, moved my musical vocabulary from performance to proclamation.

So for the rest of my time in seminary, I explored how we can translate our ancient truths into new languages. Not just from New Testament Greek into Standard American English, but into our own native languages.

Language is more than just the print that appears on your newspaper every morning, or the setting you select the first time you turn on your smartphone. It's the way we communicate with one another through sounds and symbols to convey our meaning to one another. Sometimes that is through alphabets and grammar, other times it is through the emotion we put into an improvised solo, or the concentration of a fire-juggler. Sometimes it is through the dynamic sweeping lines of art, or any of the other ways we can express God's gifts in our lives.

Part of my calling is to help find it and for us to find ways to use the gifts of the Holy Spirit for the glory of God, and to celebrate how God works in each of us by using those gifts in worship, if possible.

We have plenty of practice in telling the stories our spiritual ancestors have passed down to us. Many of us can recite Scripture after Catechism after Hymn. Some of us can offer testimony to when we have experienced God in our own lives, but we cannot be limited to expressing the mighty works of God in these forms. We are people of the Word: the Word made flesh in Christ Jesus, the Word read in scripture, the Word proclaimed in worship, and the Word enacted in the sacraments. But often we have other native languages, languages of touch, of logic, of music, of movement, of relationships, and of art.

My experience of playing an improvised solo wasn't powerful because I got to show off, it was meaningful because someone gave me permission to declare the mighty acts of God through the language of Jazz. In the same way, my friend found power within her ability to tell our shared story of creation and redemption through juggling fire.

God's gifts are the language in which we testify to who God is, and how we express gratitude for who God has created us to be.

So we tell our ancient truths in new ways, not because the words are stale and need updating, but because they are so powerful we have to express them in every way we can.

The Spirit came as fire and a howling fierce wind. In my experience when one adds wind to fire, either the fire spreads or it burns hotter. Frequently both are true. We come to worship on Sunday's because we need to gather and be filled with the Spirit of God to that we can burn hotter and we go back into the world to spread the flame further, through accounting and teaching, music and contracting, and everything in between, the gifts God has given us are the language in which we express what God has done for us. Let us therefore offer those gifts back to the God who is the source of all our gifts, using them to God's glory.

We have been waiting, but we have already received the gift of the Holy Spirit. We have been given immeasurable gifts and are empowered by the Holy Spirit to express ourselves and in turn to declare the mighty acts of God.

We disciples have been waiting for a long time. But now is the time to speak God's love with every language the Holy Spirit has give us.

The Words God Gave Us

John 17:1-11

1When Jesus finished saying these things, he looked up to heaven and said, "Father, the time has come. Glorify your son, so that the Son can glorify you. 2You gave him authority over everyone so that he could give eternal life to everyone you gave him. 3This is eternal life: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you sent. 4I have glorified you on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do. 5Now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I shared with you before the world was created.

6I have revealed your name to the people you gave me from this world. They were yours and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. 7Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you. 8This is because I gave them the words that you gave me, and they received them. They truly understood that I came from you, and they believed that you sent me.

9I'm praying for them. I'm not praying for the world but for those you gave me, because they are yours. 10Everything that is mine is yours and everything that is yours is mine; I have been glorified in them 11I'm no longer in the world, but they are in the world, even as I'm coming to you, Holy Father, watch over them in your name, the name you gave me, that they will be one just as we are one.

This is the Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God

This is not a sermon. This is a very intimate moment between God the Father and God the Son into which the gospel writer drops us. Within the narrative progression of John's gospel, this prayer precedes Jesus's arrest in the garden, and follows a long series of teachings that began with Jesus washing the feet of his disciples.

Within the progression of our church calendar this is the final Sunday of the Easter Season, on which we celebrate Christ's ascension into heaven, to sitteth on the right hand of God the Father almighty. Knowing that he is returning to the Father, Jesus prays for the disciples at the end of his earthly ministry.

I am at the opposite end of my ministry timeline. I'm a first call pastor on his first Sunday. Sure I've completed all the appropriate coursework and crossed the stage, diploma in hand, I've even been approved by all the requisite committees and subcommittees. I have been affirmed in my calling and in being qualified. This is not my first time in this pulpit, I've been here as a supply preacher a couple of times over the last year. But this is my first service in this new relationship that we have together.

God could have put me in this pulpit at a time when we celebrate one of the great call narratives from scripture: Young Samuel saying "Yes Lord?" Isaiah answering "Here I am, send me." David being sought out in the field and anointed as the next leader in Israel. I'd have been thrilled to introduce myself alongside the call of the first disciples, leaving behind our nets and following Jesus, or Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus. But that's not what God had in mind.

God, in his wisdom, decided that I should begin here on a Sunday when we celebrate the story of Jesus's departure from being a physical presence among us. God, this morning, is present in the intimate prayer between Jesus and his Father, where we disciples fade into the background so that we can catch a glimpse of who Jesus is when he's not healing or teaching those whom the Father has put in his path.

So this is not a sermon, This is God the Son is speaking to God the Father, not to us. If this were a film, the camera would be centered on Jesus as he looks up to heaven. We'd be the slightly out-of-focus bystanders, wondering at all we've heard and seen over this easter season. We are imagining what may happen in the next chapter, after Jesus has returned to the father.

Our imaginations are fed by his prayer, "Father, the time has come. Glorify your Son, so that the Son can glorify you. You gave him authority over everyone so that he could give eternal life to everyone you gave him." Soon Jesus will be lifted up in a way that shows us not only himself, but reveals the face of God as well. Jesus gives our imaginations a picture of eternal life as well, "This is eternal life: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you sent." It's not a far-off possibility, it's a present reality where we are able to encounter and know God.

Once we have come to know the only true God and Jesus Christ whom God has sent to be among us, how can we not live a life that is free from all the baggage that burdens us in our lives. God sent Jesus to free us from that weight, to break the power of sin and death for all time! "This is eternal life: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you sent." Eternal life is present today. The sacrifice has been made, the victory has been won, we can act knowing that our baggage does not define us, our relationship with God does!

Today is not a day to celebrate that we have a new minister or that I have a church. It's a day to celebrate God. It's that eternal life thing: eternal life is not to know that our church is growing and has all the best programs. It's not to know that we have a context in which is do ministry. It's not that we have worked so long to come to this point. Eternal life is to know the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom God sent. Our celebrations are all conducted in knowledge that God intervenes in the world and has called us to be a community united in Christ. We celebrate because our chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.

So I'm grateful, and indeed I celebrate the opportunity to begin my ministry because I know that God is at work in this community, and I am honored to be a part of both the work and the community. I am joyful because I enjoy God, and by extension I shall also enjoy the ministry to which God has called us. For me, that ministry begins with getting to know what God is already doing in our midst, and in getting to know my fellow disciples here: the people who are the Presbyterian Church of Lowell.

Jesus is praying on behalf of the disciples, whom he has gotten to know very well over the course of his earthly ministry. He prays in verse seven "I gave them the words that you gave me, and the received them." We are just beginning to get to know one another. You've seen a brochure about me, and maybe talked with me once or twice around the church this week, but we're just embarking on this journey. God has put us on this journey together for a purpose, even though the destination has already been chosen on our behalf. Just as the disciples were God's and God gave them to Jesus, so God gives us each other because none of us will get very far by ourselves.

God has given us each other because we need each other. We have been called together for a purpose. I firmly believe that the reason we're on this journey together is that God has given us a word to give each other. Jesus gave the disciples the words that God gave him, and we, as disciples, have received them. Now it's our task to share them with each other, and with the rest of the world. For as our Acts passage read this morning, we "will be [Christ's] witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea, and Samaria, and to the end of the Earth."

Jesus, on the other hand, states outright that "I'm praying for [the disciples]. I'm not praying for the world but for those you gave me, because they are yours." Jesus's prayer is not some over-arching universal blessing, he knows God is taking care of all creation in the crucifixion and resurrection. For the ascension, he knows that the transition will be difficult for his followers, so he prays for them specifically. Even after they negotiate that shift, they won't be able to sit back and rest, the Holy Spirit is coming at Pentecost to compel them outward. They're moving from difficult transition to being equipped to work on behalf of the kingdom of God.

 I think it's a fair leap to say that Jesus wasn't just talking about his followers who were in the room, but all of God's people in every time and place. You know, like us. I've done a lot of research over the last several months into the history and character of our community. Even in the starkness of presbytery and church records one can see that this church has not had an easy road over the last few years.

My own path is also not without it's potholes. My final year at seminary my wife and I maintained a long-distance marriage. We were convinced that each of us were called to the work we were doing, she at Kings Mountain and I at Columbia Theological Seminary and Saint Andrews. We were also certain that we were called to be with one another within the covenant of marriage, which only made balancing our relationship and careers that much more difficult. We moved forward in faith that our distance was a temporary status, and that the God who called us to be together would provide the opportunity for us to labor close enough that we could live together.

A little over a year ago, I finished my coursework at Columbia, and moved back in with my spouse. It was, and still is, wonderful to live with the person whom I love, even though it meant leaving behind the work that I found important and fulfilling. I made a little money with supply preaching, and eventually found an unpaid internship at a hospital which gave me opportunity to develop my pastoral care abilities, but it didn't give me the opportunity for worship leadership that is part of my identity.

Now I'm here, not in some generic church to deliver a substitute sermon, but with the people whom God has given me. And this church now has a Preacher whom God has given you. God has built a community here, uniting two churches almost 67 years ago to become the Presbyterian Church of Lowell. I'm not going to try and remake this church in my image, or try and shape the community into what I think it should be. God is already present and active here. God has given you a word to say to me, and I want to pay attention to what God is saying to me through this community.

This is a sermon, an act of proclamation and testimony in public worship. This sermon, and the others that will follow over the course of our journey together, is one way in which I will share the words God gives me. So too will be my Pastoral Counseling and my involvement in Christian Education. I will find ways to share the words God gives me through mission and outreach, through service to the larger church, and even through administrative work.

This congregation also has words God gave y'all, and I want to hear them. It's not just feedback like "Enjoyed your message, preacher," although I am eager for that feedback. It's also the ways that your lives reflect how God is active in your lives. The Word of God is present in more languages than are spoken or written, and the name of God, which Jesus has given us, is written on our hearts. Let us, therefore, find every expression we can manage to share the words God gave us with one another, and with the world.

Irrespective of the difficult roads that have shaped our recent history, separately and together, God is always working on us and through us. I'm not here to try and reform the church or "save" it, we've already got a savior, and this is the last Sunday of his earthly ministry.

But it's the first Sunday where we share a ministry together. We will take the prayer Jesus lifted on our behalf and use it to propel ourselves forward. We will share the words God gave us with each other so that we can better know the God who is in our midst. From there we shall go from Jerusalem, to all of Judea, to Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

Witnessing to the ends of the earth is a big task, too big for even the giants of faith lifted up in other Bible stories. The only human action that reached that far is when a man named Jesus of Nazareth was lifted up on the cross to die, and then rose from the dead. Of course, that one was also God's action.

So for these big tasks, when we cannot make the breadth of the journey alone, God gives us each other. God has given us the words to encourage and instruct one another, and our hope is that we will be one, just as God the Father and God the Son are one.

My prayer, therefore, at the beginning of our ministry together that we are able to share with each other the words God gave us, and that we will remain united in Christ even as we share our diverse perspective of how God is at work in our midst.

Welcome, New Readers from the Presbyterian Church of Lowell!

I am pleased, excited, thrilled, chuffed, and tickled pink to announce that I have been called as the new Pastor of The Presbyterian Church of Lowell!

Of all the emotions one feels at such a significant transition, the one of which I am most aware is gratitude.

I'm grateful for a Committee on Preparation for Ministry which has guided me for the last ten years.

I'm grateful for the First Presbyterian Church of Morganton, who helped raise me and train me.

I'm grateful to Columbia Theological Seminary, for taking a chance and giving me the opportunity to develop ministry skills.

I'm grateful for St. Andrews Presbyterian Church, for teaching me the difference between being a good seminarian and being a pastoral presence.

I'm grateful for the Designated Pastor Nominating Committee (DPNC) for their diligent work in discerning God's will for what is now our community.

But most of all, I'm grateful to God who has guided us through all of our journeys so that the people who are the Presbyterian Church of Lowell and I can walk together for a time and be mutually encouraged by one another.

I'll be moving into my new study for the first part of the week, and would love for folks to drop by and introduce themselves. I also invite you to find me on Facebook, which will help me learn your names more quickly.

I'm so excited to get to know these people, to collaborate with them in ministry, and to participate with them in worship.

To an Unknown God

Acts 17: 16-34

16While Paul waited for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to find that the city was flooded with idols. 17He began to interact with the Jews and Gentile God-Worshippers in the synagogue. He also addressed whoever happened to be in the marketplace each day. 18Certain Epicurean and Stoic philosophers engaged him in discussion too. Some said, "What an amateur! What's he trying to say?" Others remarked, "He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign gods." (They said this because he was preaching the good news about Jesus and the resurrection.) 19They took him into custody and brought him to the council on Mars Hill. "What is this new teaching? Can we learn what you are talking about? 20You've told us some strange things and we want to know what they mean." (21They said this because all Athenians as well as the foreigners who live in Athens used to spend their time doing nothing but talking about or listening to the newest thing.)

22Paul stood up in the middle of the council on Mars Hill and said, "People of Athens, I see that you are very religious in every way. 23As I was walking through town and carefully observing your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: 'To an unknown God.' What you worship as unknown, I now proclaim to you. 24God, who made the world and everything in it, is Lord of heaven and earth. He doesn't live in temples made with human hands, 25Nor is God served by human hands, as though he needed something, since he is the one who gives life, breath, and everything else. 26From one person God created every human nation to live on the whole earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their lands. 27God made the nations so they would seek him, perhaps even reach out to him and find him. In fact, God isn't far away from any of us. 28In God we live, move, and exist. As some of your own poets said, 'We are his offspring."
29Therefore, as God's offspring, we have no need to imagine that the divine being is like a gold, silver, or stone image made by human skill and thought. 30God overlooks ignorance of these things in times past, but now directs everyone everywhere to change their hearts and lives. 31This is because God has set a day when he intends to judge the world justly by a man he has appointed. God has given proof of this to everyone by raising him from the dead."

32When they heard about this resurrection from the dead, some began to ridicule Paul. However, others said, "We'll hear from you about this again." 33At that, Paul left the council. 34Some people joined him and came to believe, including Dionysius, a member of the council on Mars Hill, a woman named Damaris, and several others.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God

The close of the Easter Season and the close of the Academic year often parallel each other, and this year is no exception. Around the country institutions of learning are celebrating the accomplishments of their graduates, faculty are awaiting their sabbatical leave even as they reach back to grade last term's papers and exams, and newly christened alumni listen with mildly bored expressions to commencement speakers who try in vain to teach one final lesson through the words of this poet or that philosopher.

And Paul, waiting for his companions, is deeply distressed to find the city of Athens flooded with idols.

Auditoriums swell with parental pride as the parade of graduates passes by to the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance." Churches hold special rituals to recognize the transitions that their youth are making from Youth Groups into whatever may be next. Students compare notes and final grades, celebrating triumph or commiserating about the teacher who "just didn't like me."

Paul talks to some philosophers who happen to be in the Athenian marketplace one day. They are unimpressed with his public speaking abilities, snickering to themselves even before he leaves earshot.

This time of year we see celebrations of graduations, as our brothers and sisters, children and grandchildren, and sometimes parents and grandparents, are honored as learned ones. This amazing mind which God has given us allows us to stretch ourselves and discover more of the world around us, reaching for new understandings of creation, and seeking to know more about its creator.

Paul is taken into custody and brought to the council on Mars Hill. He's interrogated about this new teaching. They've surmised he is a proclaimer of foreign gods, telling him "You've told us some strange things and we want to know what they mean."

The philosophers of Athens are the height of pluralism, and our scripture passage points to why: they were after the newest thing. Their learnedness stemmed not from a quest for truth, but from wanting to push the boundaries of what the next big thought might be.

But no matter how big the newest trend might be, God is still bigger, and for all their philosophy and culture, the Athenians don't have a handle on the one true God.

It's human nature to try and make sense of the world. Though we catch glimpses of God's activity in creation, or in a still small voice, we cannot truly know the God whom we seek by our own insight. Since we cannot hold onto the vast greatness of God we carve him up into little earthly tokens, grasping only what pieces appeal to us, making idolatry out of God's glory. Or, as Anne Lamott put it, "You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out he hates all the same people you do."

Once you've made that leap, as those who built the temples and idols that flooded the city of Athens, you're left with plenty of opportunities to pat yourself on the back for choosing the right combination of little gods. Then you can judge those who don't have their lives as together as you do. When they fail and you succeed, you can congratulate yourself for being so enlightened.

But Paul seems to have a different take on their broad swaths of enlightenment: "Paul stood up in the middle of the council on Mars Hill and said, 'People of Athens, I see that you are very religious in every way. As I was walking through town and carefully observing your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: 'To an Unknown God,' What you worship as unknown, I now proclaim to you.'"

Perhaps this altar to an unknown God was meant to be an expression of hospitality, inviting those whose worship practices were not represented elsewhere in the town. Perhaps it was a sign that their pantheon was constantly expanding, an adoptive tolerance of all new things. I tend to think it was a confession that for all their being "very religious in every way" something was still missing which their wisdom and philosophy could not fill. There's innate human desire to seek our creator, and Paul points out that "God made the nations so they would seek him," even though we are stumbling around in the dark on our own. The Athenians sense that their pantheon is just a bundle of idols, leaving them unsatisfied because it lacks truth.

Their quest for novelty thinly veils their longing for truth, as though their whole culture is saying "perhaps the next new thing will bring us wholeness." It's easy, in such an unfocused world as first-century Athens, to lose trust when each new "truth" fails in turn.

After all, in a universe that is constantly expanding, how can we really know anything? Science empirically describes the laws of nature with a little more precision each day, Arts intersect with the human experience in a few more places each moment, but they just give us facts and shadows, which can only give us passing excitement, rather than assure us of truth. In a world like first-century Athens, we can recognize the tendency toward abandoning the trust in an absolute truth. Perhaps there is only "talking about or listening to the newest thing." Are the objects of worship in the Athenian Pantheon, or even all the world's religions just different paths toward the same spiritual goal? Some universally accessible unknown god?

Nope.

This stranger, amateur, proclaimer-of-foreign-gods named Paul speaks into the maelstrom of our moral relativism with conviction that can only come with personal experiences of God: "What you worship as unknown, I now proclaim to you."

Because although humanity cannot grasp our infinite God on our own, God reveals himself to us. Scripture is one such revelation, preserved by the Holy Spirit in a form that is meant to be a unique and authoritative witness, through which God is revealed. The way we truly know God, though, is through Jesus Christ, the Word made Flesh.

The place where we know Jesus best is in the crucifixion and resurrection. At the crucifixion, God shows us that death, even death on a cross, is not enough to separate us from the God who loves us. Jesus Christ descends into total separation from God, crying out "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" But such a separation cannot stand, and the power of sin and death is defeated for all time. Nothing will separate God from those whom he loves, and "God has given proof of this to everyone," Paul says, "by raising [Jesus] from the dead." No matter what else may happen, we trust that God has us firmly in hand, and will not let us go.

In a world that is so frequently unfocused as our own, where science and art redefine the boundaries of human thought daily, it is a great comfort to me to know that God is wholly reliable. The truth of God is certain, even if our perception of the world is not.

Paul frames his testimony of the risen Christ as a call to repent, to "change our hearts and lives" in this translation. But when the truth is revealed, how can we not turn away from the idol distractions of the marketplaces of Athens and dedicate our lives to glorifying God and enjoying him forever? Christ has established a new model for what it means to be a human being, one grounded in obedient faith and relentless love for God and our fellow humans.

That's the next new thing that Paul offers Athens: a life liberated from slavery to sin, an opportunity to participate in the work of the Holy Spirit, and the assurance that we are redeemed by a God who loves us. It's a new life, but an ancient truth that was established from before the foundations of the world. It also means leaving behind the habits we built in "our ignorance of these things in times past." That's a tough thing for those who have benefited from those old habits to do. Chasing each new thing has made them famous, or wealthy, or powerful, the truth of God promises none of these things. As one commentator put it, "Novelty attracts their attention more quickly than truth."

While we are pursuing the new and shiny, the truth of God pursued us and claimed us as precious, and honored in God's sight. Where Paul saw an altar to an unknown God, we have come to know God through Christ. We can walk, therefore, in newness of life, instead of just chasing novelty.

So, in that newness of life, let us establish a pluralism that isn't based on the newest thing, but is grounded in truth. Let us build a tolerance that isn't based on permissiveness, but which flows through righteousness. We have a God who is known to us, we know that "In God we live, move, and exist", and we live in a world that is seeking God. If that's not a call to service, I don't know what is.

But something seems to be stopping us. It's possible that we don't entirely trust this new opportunity to participate in the work of the Holy Spirit. Maybe we are afraid that like Paul, we'll be mocked. Perhaps we're worried that if we share too much of this news we'll have to change ourselves. Compared to the cost of discipleship, it's certainly easier to dismiss others while celebrating our own achievement.

There's a lot of self-congratulation among the Athenian Philosophers who mock Paul for his simple mannerisms and strange ideas, and I think that is a temptation for the church as well. When we look at ourselves as the enlightened ones we look down on the "others," whomever they may be. Occasionally that means non-believers, but usually it means people whom we have decided worship in the wrong way, or who do church differently than we do. It's easy to say that this group is too quick to follow the new and trendy, or to say that group is too slow and stuck in their ways. Either way, we take a moment to celebrate that we are wiser and more aware of the "real world" than they.

By judging ourselves as superior to those on whom we shower our disdain, we are supplanting the true Judge - our Lord Jesus Christ - of whom we are called to be servants. Our task is not to judge the "unenlightened," but to love them, just as Christ first loved us.

Paul states that "God has set a day when he intends to judge the world justly by a man he has appointed." But that should not give us anxiety. The man whom God has appointed to judge the world justly is Christ, who died for us, who rose for us, who reigns in power over us, and who prays for us.

The same one who judges us is also the one in whom we have our redemption. Though it will not make sense to any of our philosophies born of human observation, Christ's resurrection shows the truth of who God is.

Because the truth of God cannot be contained. The Roman Empire tried to crucify the truth, but Christ lives through the resurrection. "When the council of Mars Hill heard about this resurrection from the dead, some of them began to ridiculed Paul", and Lord knows God's petty people have found innumerable ways to misrepresent the truth over our history. But we know God is still active in the world, sometimes through us, sometimes in spite of us. Through all the hurt in our world and in our church, we do not seek "an unknown god." We pray to the God who is revealed in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Pentecost is almost upon us, Easter season is coming to a close. Like the graduates commencing with the next chapter of their lives, we have been given the knowledge we need to begin. The only degree we need was conferred at our baptism. We are called to serve not because it's the next new thing but because it's who we are. Our identity is deeply rooted in the identity of Jesus Christ, who shows us what it means to be a human being. It's not enough to just say it in our buildings, we've got to get out and listen to the ways that our people are seeking God, and to find ways tell to them the truth that has set us free.

Emmaus Imagination

We're in this worship space celebrating the third Sunday of Easter. We're still here talking about the resurrection that happened, for us, last month. Some churches invite special guests musicians, or add an extra sunrise service, or do things in a generally "bigger" way than we worship from week to week. A lot of folks wear a special Easter dress, or a different suit. Did Don wear his pink bow tie again this year, or was that a one time thing?

In all the Pomp, we may be losing perspective on just how strange these events were to those who lived them. A handful of folks had been raised from the dead, but nobody had ever seen anything like a resurrection before, so the word was a little slow getting out.

Our morning worship, therefore, begins on the afternoon of Christ's resurrection. Verse thirteen: "On that same day, two disciples were traveling to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem." 

One of the things that struck me in reading this question is why these disciples, who have heard the report of the resurrection, are already heading out. Our churches have been celebrating for two weeks, and have several more to go, and these two guys are skipping town. If we back up just a couple of verses into Luke's account of the resurrection, the women are telling the rest of the disciples about the empty tomb. But "Their words struck the apostles as nonsense, and they didn't believe the women."

It's possible to hear the good news of the gospel, the promise of the resurrection, and be struck as though it is nonsense. It's possible to witness the collapse of a ministry and not believe that something can be built from the rubble. It's possible to find yourself ready to leave Jerusalem on Easter Sunday because the Golgotha imagination can only see the end of a ministry, the death of one we had hoped would redeem Israel.

All of our journeys are going to have stretches when the good news of Christ's resurrection sounds like nonsense. That's part of our reality as Christians. As followers of Jesus Christ, we have been chosen for an arduous journey, and as a church we choose to travel that path together, as faithfully as possible. There are obstacles on our path that challenge our ability to imagine what may be on the other side.

The ancient Israelites journeyed to the promised land and grumbled against Moses all along the way because they were only able to imagine life as slaves in Egypt, or the hardship of the wilderness wanderings. The people of Judah were carried into exile in the land of Babylon and mourned the total collapse of their society, they were only able to imagine that God had failed them and the idols of Babylon had defeated their Lord. The chief priests and leaders in first century Palestine killed a man who was the Christ because they were only able to imagine the weight of the Roman empire crushing their people if a rebellion sparked. These two disciples left Jerusalem and headed for a little town called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, because they could not imagine that God would resurrect their crucified redeemer.

But just as God sent a lawgiver who could imagine a land flowing with milk and honey. Just as God called prophets who could imagine a God that was with the people even in exile, working to bring them back home at the right time. So God sent a Messiah who could imagine redemption and resurrection for all God's people.

And those two disciples on the road from Jerusalem? "While they were discussing these things, Jesus himself arrived and joined them on their journey."

I think what happens next is one of the truest parts of the gospel narrative. Although it only appears in Luke, there's so much power in it to expand our imaginations and shift our lives. Even before they believe, or even know, what God is doing in their midst, they proclaim the gospel. They can only imagine Calvary's suffering, and the news some women from their group brought them seems like nonsense to them. But when a stranger whom they do not recognize asks them what's happening, they tell the story even if, at that moment, they cannot believe it.

God's action is not limited by our ability, or our imagination. God's ability to use us for ministry is not bound by our belief. God interrupts us on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus, "What are you talking about as you walk along?" and then takes over so that the gospel may be preached even in our unbelief. The good news of Jesus Christ is so powerful that it is proclaimed even through our weak faith and limited imagination.

So they tell Jesus his own story, not imagining that they are telling the most important truths of human history. ""The things about Jesus of Nazareth. Because of his powerful deeds and words, he was recognized by God and all the people as a prophet. But our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. We had hoped he was the one who would redeem Israel. All these things happened three days ago.

"But there's more: Some women from our group have left us stunned. They went to the tomb early this morning and didn't find his body. They came to us saying that they had even seen a vision of angels who told them he is alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women said. They didn't see him."

The resurrected Christ responds to the testimony of their Golgotha imagination by breaking down all of scripture, giving them the truth of the arc of human history. His response is not without judgement. ""You foolish people! Your dull minds keep you from believing all that the prophets talked about. Wasn't it necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Essentially: "You should have known!"

We should have known that God would not be stopped by something as limited as death. All death can do is carry us to our graves, but God is capable of anything. I was at a wedding yesterday, and the minister read the scripture that says "Love is strong as death.

" He then pointed out that the resurrection demonstrates that love is stronger than death. Jesus gives the disciples, and us, just a taste of judgement for not having the imagination to recognize how God was at work, for not having the faith to believe that the cross would not stop God's redemptive love.

But Christ's word of judgement, "You foolish people," is ultimately a word of  love. "You should have known better, but since you didn't, here's what's going on." He's not willing to leave behind these disciples who are trying to get out of Jerusalem because all they can imagine is faith that has died. "Then he interpreted for them the things written about himself in all the scriptures, starting with Moses and going through all the Prophets."

But the disciples were still prevented from recognizing him.

When they were unknowingly preaching his death and resurrection, they did not recognize him. When Christ was lecturing them on the theology of the Old Testament, they did not recognize him. When they were walking along the road to their homes, they did not recognize him. When they invited him into their home, they still did not know who is was who was in their midst. "After he took his seat at the table with them, he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Their eyes were opened and they recognized him,"

It is at the breaking of the bread, the enactment of the Lord's Supper, that we encounter the risen Christ. It is the power of the Holy Spirit that elevates us to dine with Christ at the Lord's Table, and that encounter gives us an Emmaus Imagination, where we can catch a glimpse of the kingdom of God already in our midst. Our eyes had been clouded with the heartbreak, heartbreak that the one we hoped would redeem Israel was handed over to be crucified. Now, however, we have seen the Lord and know the truth of those words that had once seemed to be nonsense.

Christ is certainly present with them throughout this whole story, and I have every confidence that Christ is present with us throughout our stories as well, whether we are able to believe it or not. Christ's presence among us is very real, although it is not in a physical way. Since we cannot experience Christ through our senses, it is left to our Emmaus Imagination to open our eyes so that we can recognize someone who's presence is more real than any sight or touch or smell.

Perhaps the strangest, most complicated, mysterious branch of theology is how we understand the sacraments. Most people just say they don't know how it happens, only that it does. Sharing in the Lord's Supper is one of the central acts of the worshipping life of the church, because it's how we recognize Christ in our midst. One commentator remarked on this Emmaus story saying, "There is no doubt that Luke is serving not only the story of Jesus but also that of the church which knows him in these ways.

"

Once Christ breaks the bread and the disciples' eyes were opened, and they recognized him, he disappears. The two disciples, who had left Jerusalem because they could not imagine the nonsense of the women from their group being truth, leave after it's already dark and walk, perhaps even run, seven miles back from Emmaus to tell their friends and colleagues, their brothers and sisters in Christ, what they have seen.

So even though the word of Christ's resurrection has gotten out slowly, spreading through the testimony of those who have gone from inability to believe to absolute faith in the resurrected Christ, the story is still told, and we still encounter Christ. We share in the first-hand experience of the resurrected Christ with these disciples who have returned filled with Emmaus Imagination.

The nonsense of the women at the tomb has become these disciples testimony too, and in turn has become ours. We have seen the LORD, the Messiah of the resurrection, whenever we gather around the bread and the cup, which awaken us to the real presence of Christ in our midst.

Alleluia, Amen.