Busy: The Right Tempo

1^st Sunday in Lent

March 1, 2020

1 Kings 8:54-61; Matthew 11:28-30

            What rhythm of life works for you? How do you know when your rhythm’s too fast? Or, maybe it’s too slow. What if you don’t have a rhythm and you’re just going from one fire to the next? I have always said that if I don’t have time to read for fun, then I’m too busy. What’s your marker or indicator that your rhythm is off and not life-giving?

            We read in both Scriptures this morning about rest. Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary, struggling and carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest.” It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Then I paired it this morning with the passage from 1 Kings. This is from after King Solomon has built the temple, the first temple, the original one. After it’s built, the Ark of the Covenant is brought in, that structure that was how the Israelites knew God was with them everywhere they traveled. Then Solomon offers God a lengthy prayer of dedication of the temple, including praise for all that God had already done for them. One piece of that is the line we read, “Praise be to the Lord, who has given rest to the people Israel just as the Lord promised.” Isn’t it wonderful when God’s promises come true? The Israelites wandered for forty years before finally entering the Promised Land. They went through a series of leaders, first judges and then kings. It wasn’t until the third king, Solomon, that a temple is built, a place for the people to gather to worship God. The people are now fully settled, entering into the rest that God promised them.

            What’s interesting is how we go about getting that rest. Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Now, a yoke is a wooden beam normally used between a pair of oxen or other animals to enable them to pull together on a load when working in pairs, like oxen usually do; although yokes can also be fitted to a single animal as well. So what does it mean to have an easy yoke? It means it fits well. It’s not choking you at the neck so you can’t breathe; it’s not weighing you down so you can hardly lift your head. It’s probably, however, not so light that you don’t notice its presence. When an animal wears a yoke, it’s because the animal has specific work to do and the work may be hard. Jesus never promises that the yoke would literally be easy; that’s a mistranslation. In this context of yoking oxen, the translation means ‘well fitting.’ As we begin our Lenten season and our series on Busy, we discover that each of us has a tempo that fits well, that energizes us. What is that tempo? What’s the rhythm that gives you life and energy? What tempo of life feels toxic to you? What is the cost?

            For an example from pop culture, I’m reminded of a song that came out in 1974, “Cat’s in the Cradle.” Anyone familiar with that song? The refrain goes, “The cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon/ Little boy blue and the man in the moon/ “When you coming home, dad?” “I don't know when”/But we'll get together then/You know we'll have a good time then.” Basically, the father is too busy for his son the entire time the son is growing up. And then when the son is grown up and the father is retired, the tables are turned. The father wants to spend time with his son but his son is now too busy for him and the father realizes that his boy is just like him; the son grew up to be just like his father. There’s a cost when your rhythm is off-kilter. The cost may be a relationship. It may be your health, physical, mental, or spiritual. But when you don’t pay attention to the rhythm of your life and put in the hard work to keep it one that fits you well and energizes you, then other things get out of kilter as well.

One thing to acknowledge is that there are different tempos for different seasons of life. For example, right now is a very busy season for CPA’s, accountants, and for those who work with them and live with them. It’s a different tempo than the rest of the year for them. Other professions have similar busy seasons, and you prepare for them and you plan vacations or other ways to celebrate when they end. There are right tempos for right times and it’s important to figure out what the right tempo is when you change seasons. For students and educators the rhythm of the school year is different from summer break. When you have a major change in your health, you have to adjust your rhythm to figure out what’s going work best with how life is now. Life changes and what works in one season is not going to work as well in another season.

In the Bible paraphrase, The Message, Eugene Peterson does something pretty interesting in both of our Scriptures. For Matthew, he interprets Jesus to say, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” I love that middle phrase, “Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.” When you have to work at a rhythm, it’s probably not the best fit for you. The right tempo for your life isn’t going to feel like work; it’s going to feel more natural. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.

Then, King Solomon’s prayer becomes “Blessed be God, who has given peace to his people Israel just as he said he’d do… May the Lord keep us centered and devoted to him, following the life path he has cleared, watching the signposts, walking at the pace and rhythms he laid down for our ancestors.” What are the rhythms that were laid down? A Sabbath, resting from work one day a week; a Sabbath year every seventh year for the land for the land to rest; 7 times 7, making the 50^th year a year of Jubilee and liberation when everyone returns to their own property, remembering that the land really belongs to God.

The right rhythm is going to give you life and energy. It’s going to fit well and energize you. It’s going to be a rhythm that includes time for prayer and time for work, time for self-care and time to serve others. It’s not going to be too busy.

There was one more song going through my head while preparing today’s sermon. It’s a song called “Little Man” released in 1997 by the O.C. Supertones, one of the earliest Contemporary Christian rock groups, considered alternative and indie.

Lookin' out for number ones's a full time occupation

I'll give to me myself and I my own salvation

Some people try to tell me God can save me from my sin

But God can take a number and I'll pencil Him in

Busy oh so busy I got no time to search

My Sunday's are all booked I've got no time for church

That's for those poor souls, dry as a stone

God bless this child 'cause this child's got His own.

Oh, let my pride fall down I'm a little man

            Well, this Lent we are going to let our pride fall down and make time. We’re not going to pencil God in; we’re going to write the time in in ink! Let us slow down and make time now to pray...

(Worship series "Busy" from worshipdesignstudio.com)

Ash Wednesday 2020 Homily

Ash Wednesday

February 26, 2020

Matthew 6:1-6

Busy: Reconnecting with an Unhurried God

(Based on worship series from worshipdesignstudio.com)

21^st century society is one that is busy and on-the-go. If you ask someone how they are, the answer is often busy.  Being “busy” has become a measure of worth in our society. We get big points for productivity, collecting accomplishments, having and being “more.” Maryland especially is extra-busy, go-go-go! Because if you go slow, you get run over, or honked at, or you don’t get everything done because there’s too much to do and not enough hours in the day to do it. We subconsciously believe that being busy is what’s required of us and how we prove our worth, to God, to others, and to ourselves. But we are paying a high price in self-esteem, in physical health, in the enjoyment of life, and in connecting to one another. We are losing out on depth in our lives the more we spread ourselves thin.

Here’s the good news: God isn’t looking for us to perform as if we must prove how good we are or how worthy of love we are or how productive we can be. You can’t buy the Beatles’ love and you can’t earn God’s love. God offers it freely to everyone. In fact, God already loves you, regardless of whether you finish your to-do list or not, regardless of how long your to-do list is, regardless of how full your calendar is, regardless of good you look to others. God doesn’t care about your posturing so quit doing it. God loves you. Full stop.  

So this Lent, let’s practice simply being in God’s presence. Let’s clear out the lists and the things we think we have to do to look good to others. Let’s repent from unrealistic expectations and false beliefs. Let’s make room for what we want more of – more love, more peace, more joy, more generosity. Let’s stop striving after those things that won’t fulfill us, that aren’t what God requires of us. Instead, let’s make space and simplify – at home, at work, in church, in school, in worship, and in life. Let’s focus on what’s truly important and rather than giving something up for Lent, let’s make space this Lent so that we can live the life that truly is life.

Come to our Wednesday night Lenten services. Each week we’ll have a lay speaker and communion. The speakers will also be reflecting on this theme of busy-ness and what they want more of in their lives and how they’re going to make room for it. There’s a bible study, that I haven’t read, but the title is “Made to Crave: Satisfying Your Deepest Desire with God Not Food.” We were made to crave God. St. Augustine said “our hearts are restless until they find rest in you.” The problem is we try to fill that spot with food or another addiction when we really need to make more room for God in our lives. Take time for God.

This series is meant to focus us for a time on these things in order to offer a spiritual antidote to that which is stressing us out. We will find that there are very physical and tangible things we must attend to in order to address this spiritual issue. Tonight’s tangible thing is to receive the ashes of last year’s palms. I saved the palms from last Palm Sunday, when we had a big procession and parade and celebration, and last weekend my husband had some fun and burned them down to these ashes you’ll receive tonight. The ashes remind us that all of us will one day die, and in the process of life, we make mistakes, we sin, and the good news is God loves us, anyway.

Shine Light on Jesus

Transfiguration Sunday

February 23, 2020

2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9

            This last Sunday before Lent is called Transfiguration Sunday and we read the story of Jesus being transfigured on the mountain in front of the disciples Peter, James, and John. We know mountaintops are significant. On top of Mount Sinai is where Moses received the Ten Commandments. (On top of Old Smokey…?) It was in a cave on Mount Horeb that God passed by Elijah, not in the wind or the earthquake or the fire but in the small, still voice. And now Jesus takes three of the disciples up another mountain and is transfigured before them. His face shines like the sun. His clothes become as white as the light. And two more people appear, Moses and Elijah, who talk with Jesus. Moses was the person God called to lead the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt and through the wilderness for 40 years to the Promised Land. Elijah was the last prophet left when King Ahab and Queen Jezebel went on a killing rampage and after taking some time apart, he went back to challenge them and became one of the most famous prophets, even if he didn’t write a book about it like Isaiah or Jeremiah.

            The timing of this encounter is curious. We’re told it’s six days later. To read later than what, you have to go back to Matthew 16. There, Peter makes this dramatic confession about who Jesus is. Some people are saying that Jesus is Elijah come back again, or John the Baptist, or even Jeremiah or one of the other prophets. Jesus presses Peter, asking, “But you, who do you say that I am?” And Peter answers, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Ding, ding, ding! Peter gets it right. 100% right. He knows exactly who Jesus is and Jesus says that he will build his church on Peter and give Peter the keys to the kingdom. Peter’s golden and he does become the head leader of the early church and the first Pope. Yet in the very next paragraph, Jesus begins to tell the disciples about how he’s going to suffer, be put to death by the authorities, and will rise to life on the third day, and Peter says “No! This will not happen!” Peter knows who Jesus is, but does not want Jesus to follow the path to the cross. Jesus responds by calling Peter Satan and says those wonderful lines, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” Six days after this conversation is when Jesus is transfigured. “Thus, the transfiguration scene must be read in light of Peter’s insight and failure but also Jesus’ unflinching promise. In short, glory and the cross mix. Suffering and promises of judgment are intertwined. The cross and the glory of God are not at odds.”[1] They go together.

            Let’s look at Peter’s response to Jesus’ transfiguration. He says something to the effect of, “Jesus, isn’t this great that we’re here? We need to do something. We should mark and memorialize this moment. What do you think about building three shrines here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah? Great idea, right?” Peter is caught up in the moment. I can imagine Jesus might smile at his enthusiasm. Peter is overwhelmed by glory and wants to act; he feels moved to do something.

            We react different ways when we’re overwhelmed and part of it depends on what we’re overwhelmed by. Moses found out he was standing on holy ground and needed to mark it by taking off his shoes. When Elijah found himself in a holy moment, he put his cloak over his face. How do you respond to holy moments? With tears? With awe? Moving towards a posture of worship and bowing down? Do you find yourself wanting to memorialize it or finding a physical object with which to mark it? For years, I kept a candle that I had molded into the shape of a heart to remember the holy time when it was lit at a middle school youth retreat.

            And then how do you respond to other overwhelming moments? When you get bad news, or dealing with health issues, or there’s too much to do, or you’re feeling the pressure of deadlines or decision, or maybe you’re trying to juggle too many things, whether the little things have added up or there are multiple big things that need your attention. So many things can overwhelm us, good and bad and neutral. What do you do when you’re overwhelmed? Some people lash out. Others can’t stop talking or they over-eat or have trouble ending some other activity. Some people shut down. They’re done. You may turn defensive and cry or internalize the overwhelming-ness as failure. You may turn offensive and get angry and violent and yell and blame others. These are all different responses and it’s not an exhaustive list. Each of us respond differently to being overwhelmed and context matters; it depends on what is causing the feeling of overwhelmed. It’s not always because we see Jesus in all his glory and recognize this is a holy moment, possibly the holiest I will ever witness. So, what are healthy and faithful and life-giving ways to respond?

            For Peter and the disciples, God intervenes. Peter is all excited and asks Jesus about building shrines, when another voice speaks up. “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” It’s the same voice speaking the same words as at Jesus’ baptism, although there weren’t any disciples present then. When Jesus is baptized in the Jordan by John, as he comes up out of the water, a voice from heaven speaks and says the same thing. “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am pleased.” Peter, James, and John hear this voice and now they have a different response. They are overwhelmed by the holy even more than they were before, and this time they fall facedown to the ground and are terrified. It’s like a toddler who triggered an action toy to dance and talk and they had no idea it did that and they go running crying back to their parents. God speaks. Peter, James, and John don’t just witness the transfiguration and see Moses and Elijah; they also hear God speak from heaven! No wonder they’re terrified! They are scared… to death. They fall face down. They can’t even. They are completely overwhelmed by awe and fear.

            Jesus reaches down and touches them, perhaps on the shoulder or the back. Physical touch can get your attention in ways other things can’t when you’re overwhelmed. Not everyone is touchy-feely, but a touch at just the right time can redirect our focus. Jesus says, “Get up. Don’t be afraid.” It’s like when Jesus calms the storm on the sea. Jesus is out with the disciples on the fishing boat. He’s napping while the disciples are fishing. Then a storm comes up and the disciples are terrified. The boat starts to sink. The disciples wake Jesus up because they’re convinced they’re going to drown. The waves are going to overwhelm them and this is the end unless Jesus does something. Jesus says, “O you of little faith, why are you so afraid?” And Jesus calms the sea and the storm. Or when Peter walks on water, his eyes on Jesus for a while… until he notices the wind has picked up and the waves are getting choppier. He starts to sink and cries out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus reaches out his hand and catches him, again with similar words, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When we get caught up in the wind and the waves, when we get caught up in the storm, when we get caught up in the feeling of overwhelming-ness, is when our faith starts to shrink. When we’re looking at what’s going on all around us and it’s completely terrifying and overpowering and all-encompassing and threatening to do us in, that’s when doubts can creep in because we forget that nothing can overpower Jesus. Nothing. Not even death. Not even the tomb can hold Jesus. We may be overpowered, but Jesus is not.

At the end of the scene, all Peter, James, and John see is Jesus. There is no more transfiguration, no more dazzling light, no more Moses and Elijah, no more ideas about building shrines, no more voices from heaven. Just Jesus. No more waves and storm, no more chaos, no more overwhelming-ness; it’s still going on around them, but their focus has shifted. They are now focused on Jesus. It’s hard to remember it in the moment, I know. I get overwhelmed sometimes, too. But try, ask Jesus to help you, ask him now, so you don’t have to remember that when the time comes, ask him that when you are overwhelmed for him to redirect your focus back to him. The faithful, healthy response to feeling overwhelmed is to take a deep breath. Slow down. Pay attention to what’s most important. Be in the moment. Ask for help. Focus on Jesus and not on the overwhelming situation. Ask Jesus to intervene. There’s a hymn that’s about a hundred years old called “Turn your eyes upon Jesus” (UMH 349). Sing it with me if you know it.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Look full in His wonderful face

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace

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[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4390

My Call Story

5^th Sunday after the Epiphany

February 9, 2020

Isaiah 58:1-12; Psalm 112; Matthew 5:13-20

            This is a week when I’m extra glad that I follow the lectionary because Isaiah 58 is exactly what I needed to spend time with this past week. On Tuesday I go before the Board of Ordained Ministry for an oral exam, the last big step in full ordination. And I have been extremely stressed about it. I’m trying not to be, but I can feel it in my body and in my eating habits. And so, to reread Isaiah 58, especially that middle section, has been extremely providential and this morning, in preparation for this exam, I’m going to share with you my full call story. As I’ve shared other times, my call to be a pastor began with my call to serve God in Nicaragua. Isaiah 58, especially verses 6-8, was my call passage for Nicaragua.

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.”

I “discovered” that passage in my early 20s, and it convicted me and it stayed with me. I was doing my master’s in education at the time and trying to figure out where I was going to teach when I finished. I applied to the Department of Defense to teach abroad. I applied to a school district out in Arizona where I had just visited a friend. I ended up back in North Carolina, teaching at an elementary school that was one of the feeder schools for the high school where I graduated. But I was still discerning: what does this mean? What is God calling me to? At the same time I was involved in a Disciple II Bible Study, first at the church where I was in grad school and then continued it at my home church in North Carolina. (Has anyone here done a Disciple Bible Study? I love them. They do require a commitment, but if y’all are ready, I’d love to lead one here, too.) In Disciple II, you spend the first half on Genesis and Exodus and the second half is Luke and Acts. Disciple involves daily reading with note-taking and for this study, it had been suggested to divide our notes into two sections: I read and God said; a summary of the passage we read and what we heard God saying through that passage. Well, we got to Acts and all of my “God said’s” were along the lines of “Heather, can you do this? Can you go where I send you, like Paul and Barnabas? Can you be full of truth and grace, like Stephen?” and so on. When I saw the pattern, I was like, all right God, what are you asking? Where am I supposed to go?

I started researching different mission agencies, Methodist, other denominations, and non-denominational. I was intrigued by Food for the Hungry because of three things: it offered health insurance (not all mission agencies do), it went to Latin America (and I was already proficient in Spanish), and they had a very clear mission and vision statement of why they do what they do. You hear me talk about wishy-washy mission statements or the phrase “we do good things because we’re supposed to”? That’s because that’s the mantra of too many mission agencies. We don’t do good things because we’re supposed to. We do good things because Jesus calls us to do them and Jesus calls us to specific good things. Food for the Hungry has a week-long orientation program before you even apply to go to the field. It’s time for them to get to know you and you to get to know them. That week was the first time I ever shared the pull that Isaiah 58 had on my heart. Others there had their passages. Every pastor you meet will have a call passage. Isaiah 58 is mine.

Food for the Hungry and I determined we were a good fit for each other and they offered me three teaching positions: one in Peru, one in Guatemala, and one in Nicaragua. Nicaragua was the only one where I’d be teaching children, and y’all know I have a heart for children. I was an elementary school teacher. I had to live off support and you had to have a certain percentage raised and committed before you were allowed to start. I don’t remember the numbers anymore, but you had a one-time set-up budget for initial costs, like your plane flight there, buying a bed, those kinds of set-up costs. I think you had to have at least 75% of that raised before you could even buy your plane ticket. Then there was your monthly budget, rent, food, those kinds of things, including a tithe built in, 10% for you to give to whatever church you became part of or how you saw fit to give away. That was covered through pledges; people pledged to give so much each month for the three years I was to serve there. I raised funds and prayer partners quicker than anyone else who was at my orientation week with me. It was a God thing. I finished my second school year in North Carolina and that summer went to Phase Two of orientation, getting ready to actually serve on the ground. In September I moved to Nicaragua.

I fell in love, with the country, with the people, with the food, with the culture. I thought I was going to stay longer than my three-year contract. I thought I might never move back to the U.S. My mom came down to visit and said she’d never seen me so happy in my entire life. In Nicaragua, Food for the Hungry has combined with about 10 other mission agencies plus many locals to form the Nehemiah Center. That fall I joined their education component, who was in the middle of visiting and evaluating Christian schools on the western side of the country (also where most of the population lives). Unlike ours, their school year follows the calendar year and so when the new school year started in January, I started teaching at two of those Christian schools that I had already visited, plus one day a week going out to the small rural community of Santa Maria, who had been devastated by Hurricane Mitch. I lived with a host family. I had a great teammate who lived with relatives of my host family. There were two other American families nearby who were serving with other mission agencies. Life was very good. I was actively living out Isaiah 58.

And then I got sick. I had dengue fever the first Christmas I was there and gotten over it. And I’d had a couple joints, like my right pointer finger, randomly swell up. But I’d ignored them and moved on. Then it was my knees, which I couldn’t ignore so easily, because it hurt to walk. Then it was all the joints acting up all at the same time. I went to the doctor I’d seen when I had dengue, and his diagnosis was the same as my best friend’s, who was in med school at the time: rheumatoid arthritis. He put me on bedrest for a week, acknowledging how hard it was for me to stay still like that. And I took it as a personal retreat time to figure out what God had to say to me when I was on my butt that I couldn’t hear God say to me when I was more active. On the first day of bedrest I had emails from two Methodist pastors, both of whom had separately told me when I was fund-raising that when I returned from Nicaragua I’d be ready for seminary. Their emails that day both said, don’t forget. And so I spent that week in prayer, journaling, reading my bible, talking with close friends, trying to discern what God was saying and what was next. Just because I had RA didn’t mean I had to leave Nicaragua. But the Word that came was that God was doing a new thing. Three years had never felt like the right number, not because it was supposed to be higher, but because it was going to be lower. God had other plans. 

Lee and me with my host family, the last time I was in Nicaragua

 Y’all know most of the rest of the story. I came back. I went to seminary. I re-met Lee and this time, we fell in love and got married. I served two churches in North Carolina before God did another new thing and brought us up here to Maryland. In the move, the Baltimore-Washington Conference had me start the ordination process over again from the beginning. When I was commissioned three years ago was the earliest I was eligible for provisional ordination. This year, ten years after finishing seminary, 13 years after leaving Nicaragua, is the first time I am eligible to go forward for full ordination. It has been a long journey. It has been a different journey than any of my colleagues. It all started with Isaiah 58.

“Is this the kind of fast I have chosen, only a day for people to humble themselves? …Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?... If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.”

            “Instead of the traditional fast days, ‘the fast that I choose,’ says God, is a whole new way of life.” Fasting is no longer something you do for one day every now and then. “Instead, fasting is a new set of relationships within ongoing life. The fasting acceptable to God is a daily fast from domination, blaming others, evil speech, self-satisfaction, entitlement and blindness to one's privilege. The fast that God seeks calls for vigilance for justice and generosity day in and day out.”[1] It’s a different way of life. It’s a different way of being in the world. And you don’t have to leave home and family and go to another country to do it. It ties in with the kindness we talked about last week, because essentially God is saying fast from unkindness.

            Let your light shine. Don’t worry about rejection. Take courage. Jesus said, “You are the light of the world… let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Let your light shine. In our psalm we read that those who have a right relationship with the Lord “rise in the darkness as a light for the upright.” You are the light of the world. Let your light rise up. Let it shine. Let it break forth, to go back to Isaiah 58.

            Actually, it’s not a choice in Isaiah 58; it’s a promise. “If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.” There are a few more promises, too, if you keep reading. In this part of Isaiah, the people have returned after the exile back to Jerusalem. They have to rebuild the city and their community. God reminds them their moral choices have consequences and that God expects them to be both restored and restorative people. When you let God into your life, when you partner with God in God’s fast, then your light will break forth and your light shall rise in the darkness. Thanks be to God!

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[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4374

Shine Light on Kindness

4^th Sunday after the Epiphany

February 2, 2020

Micah 6:1-8; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31; Matthew 5:1-12

            I saw this yellow bumper sticker on a car a few weeks ago, and then saw it again when I went to Books with a Past, the secondhand bookstore in Glenwood. Has anyone else seen it before? What struck me about it was that it seemed like a secular paraphrase of Micah 6:8, that wonderful verse that says, “What does the Lord require of you? To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” “Do what is just” is “do justice.” “Do what is kind” is “love kindness.” “Do good," well, that’s the only one that’s not an exact match. Micah 6:8 is the theme verse for the mission agency I served with in Nicaragua. It was on the t-shirt I got at orientation and it’s engraved above their parking lot at their U.S. office in Phoenix. Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with your God. It sums up what God expects of you. It answers the question in any given situation of “what should I do?” You should do the right thing to do, that’s justice. You should do what is kind. You should not be arrogant or presumptuous about it. There’s another bumper sticker I’ve seen around that reminds us that this is a choice: #choose2Bkind. Choose kindness over cruelty. Choose justice over injustice. Choose humility over egotism. Choose to be kind.

            Why? Because there’s an awful lot of unkindness out there. There is more malice and spite and meanness and harshness and heartlessness and there doesn’t have to be. There’s a lot of unnecessary cruelty when it would have cost you nothing to be kind instead. Let’s talk politics. Yes, I am going there. A study came out last week by the Pew Center showing how our partisan divide has gotten deeper over the past five years.[1] Only the last five years. You wouldn’t think that much had changed since 2014. It doesn’t seem that long ago. And our country was divided then, too. Well, we have grown more divided. Here’s your homework for this week: have a conversation with someone with whom you disagree politically and do it with kindness. That means no yelling, no put-downs, no shaming. It means listening, really listening to what the other person has to say. It also means being present in the moment and not thinking about your to-do list or how you want to respond, or how you wish you could respond if your pastor hadn’t insisted you be kind. Listen to the other person. Repeat back what you hear them say. We all want to feel heard. You can repeat back, “I heard you say... X” without agreeing with X. You can love kindness and practice kindness and choose to be kind without being likeminded.  If your like-mindedness and source of commonality is kindness, then you can talk about any topic under the sun! Make kindness and love your starting point.

            Hillsong Church is a Pentecostal megachurch in Sydney, Australia. Part of their ministry is a huge music ministry, including writing and recording many of their own songs, which have become well-known around the world. One of my favorites is “Mighty to Save,” which came out in 2006. It begins by saying, “Everyone needs compassion, a love that’s never failing, let mercy fall on me. Everyone needs forgiveness, the kindness of a Savior, the hope of nations.” Everyone needs compassion. Everyone needs love. Everyone needs mercy. Everyone needs kindness. And not wishy-washy niceness but true, authentic kindness. Love kindness.

            Micah was writing in the 8^th century BC, most likely during the reign of King Hezekiah. Israel had prospered economically under the previous kings but, with increased prosperity also came, as we know, increased egotistic materialism and mistreatment of the poor by the ruling elite. Israel hadn’t forsaken God or gone back into idol practices; Israel was still talking the talk and worshiping God, at least with the words they used. However, they were no longer walking the walk. They were no longer doing what God had commanded them to do from the beginning: to take care of the poor and the marginalized, the orphan, the widow, the immigrant and the refugee, those who need help. Their mouths were still worshiping God but they were not practicing justice and kindness and humility. Their lives had become very unethical according to how God wanted them to live and treat others. That’s why God got upset with them and sent Micah to scorn them. God brought you out of Egypt, redeemed you from slavery, and sent leaders to guide you. Remember your journey. Is the Lord going to be pleased with burnt offerings and sacrifices when you’re also trampling on the poor? No! “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” That’s what God wants from you.

            It is not what the world wants from you. Our society says self-promotion and self-aggrandizement are the way to go. It doesn’t matter who you trample on to get to the top. The ends justify the means. And if you trample on people who are undeserving or poor or otherwise disadvantaged, well, too bad for them. You’re gonna get yours. You deserve yours. Watch and see how many Super Bowl commercials tonight tell that message. Or it’s like Sally in the Charlie Brown Peanuts Christmas special, “All I want is what I have coming to me. All I want is my fair share.” That’s not how God works. God knows what you need, and provides it. God does abundance, not fair shares. And, God doesn’t follow the wisdom of the world. Instead, “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus.” “The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing;” it doesn’t make sense. It’s not how the world works. The cross says, “Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord.” The cross says, “Love your neighbor as yourself. And oh, by the way, everyone is your neighbor.” The cross says, “You can learn from anyone, even those you would deem un-smart or foolish.” That’s one way you “entertain angels unawares.” The cross says it’s not about upward social mobility but downward social mobility. Downsize your house and your cars. Don’t buy more than you need. Share freely with what you have. Have a conversation and learn from someone who you wouldn’t normally expect to learn from. Those whom you would dismiss and disregard can teach you so much. Spend more time with the poor and those in desperate need of help. Engage in random acts of kindness.

And do it, anyway. Choose love, anyway, regardless of the reaction. Not everyone’s going to approve of your actions. Some folks are going to call you foolish. When I gave up my teaching job in North Carolina, sold my car, and became financially dependent on donations in order to answer God’s call to serve in Nicaragua, most people were supportive, including all church people. But one fellow teacher asked me what was I doing that for, if I’d really wanted to teach in Latin America I should have just asked her and she’d have hooked me up at her mom’s school in Argentina. She thought I was crazy. She didn’t understand.

Where we lived in White Marsh, I used to see a guy walking around the community, sometimes carrying bags of groceries. One time when it was raining, I stopped and offered him a ride. I knew it was risky, but I’d seen him around and it was pouring rain. He didn’t accept. He put his hand up and kept on walking. Not everyone is going to accept your kindness, and that’s okay. Offer it, anyway.

Sometimes people are going to take advantage of your kindness. Years ago, I participated in Christmas in July in Philadelphia and we helped repair someone’s home in West Philly. One year, the couple was very appreciative and grateful. The husband actually worked with us and the wife was in the other room saying prayers. The other year, the house was filthy. We had to clean before we could start work. When we came back the second day, the homeowner had undone some of our work, ripped the doorframe out of the wall. I actually had nightmares about that house, it was so intense. And all the homeowner did the whole time we were there was watch TV. That was actually the first year I participated. Then I went back the second year for a completely different experience with that other couple. We help, anyway. We love kindness, anyway, even when others aren’t kind toward us. But you know what they say next door at Lisbon Elementary School? Kindness is contagious. When you are kind, when you #choose2Bkind, it inspires others to be kind, too.

My cousin tends to post quotes about kindness on her Facebook page. She calls it her protest against hate. This past week she shared two. The first one said, “Today you could be standing next to someone who is trying their best not to fall apart. So whatever you do today, do it with kindness in your heart.” You never know what someone else is going through, or what life is like in their shoes, the choices they’ve had to make, the tragedies they’ve dealt with. In line next to someone at the store, or behind another driver on the road, or anywhere else you are, they might be trying their best not to fall apart. So be kind. The second quote from a couple days ago said, “Are you still alive? Are you still breathing? There’s still time left today to do something compassionate and kind and loving. Don’t waste it.” It’s never too late to be kind. It’s never too late to #choose2Bkind. Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with your God. Actively, intentionally choose to do those things this week. Have that conversation. And let me know how it goes. Let’s see if we can work to bridge that divide, or fill some dirt into that chasm. I don’t think any of us want to see our divisions get worse over the next five years. It would practically be a civil war. So, be counter-cultural, which we are, anyway, by following Jesus. Practice justice and kindness and humility instead.

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[1] https://www.journalism.org/2020/01/24/u-s-media-polarization-and-the-2020-election-a-nation-divided/

A Reflection on My Facebook Feed After Last Night's Halftime Show

Here’s what I observed on my Facebook feed about the halftime show. Read carefully and please recognize that I recognize I am making some broad statements.

Every negative comment was by a white person.

Every person of color who commented said something positive.

Some white people said positive things, too.

The positive and the negative comments did not overlap. For example, no one said that objectification of women is a good thing. And no one denied the fantastic physical shape that Shakira and Jennifer Lopez are in.

We’re having two different conversations.

We white people are so quick to criticize people of color, without also pointing out any great things, and rarely do we celebrate aspects of people of color’s culture that don’t overlap with white culture.

As a result, people of color are put on the defensive and can’t talk about the problematic things like overt sexualization because they must instead build up their culture and point out all the positive.

This is white privilege. We don’t have to build up anyone’s culture because our culture is the dominant one and has been for centuries.

So, again, we’re having two different conversations.

We white people focus on the problems to the exclusion of anything positive, like the celebration of Latin culture, the amount of Spanish we heard on national TV, and the statement made by the children in cages representative of the border crisis.

That halftime show made a huge statement for the Hispanic/Latinx population, and rather than recognize that and applaud that, like I heard our Black brothers and sisters do, many of us whites have to pick it apart and put it down instead. This is white fragility. It would cost us nothing to be kind instead.

I noticed the same phenomenon in Facebook comments on my feed after Beyoncé’s halftime show in 2013, too.