When Lent Is Advent

I don’t know about you, but it felt like Lent was extra long this year.  Of course, it took forever to start, with Ash Wednesday falling three weeks later than it did last year, and then it felt like it would never end. 

For me, it began in February, when I became a pregnant single working mom Monday through Friday.  In January, my husband accepted a job promotion that requires us to move and he began work there the next month.  I dealt with the first week by being out of town, too.  My daughter and I traveled down to Florida to visit with my mom’s best friend and her husband, neither of whom had ever met my daughter. 

The worst 48 hours was a couple weeks later, when I had two appointments one Thursday, the latter one at the eye doctor, who told me I had a spot on my eye and if I noticed either of two symptoms, then I was to call immediately because it meant I had a detached retina.  From that office visit, I picked up my daughter, found dinner, and went back to church for a meeting that was somewhat tense, on top of worrying about my eye on top of worrying about having my 1 year old out late two nights in a row.  Nothing eventful happened the next day, except that by the time I got my daughter in bed Friday evening, I went into full self-care mode.  I ate a bowl of cereal for dinner, put on one of my favorite childhood movies, and then read a good book until my husband got home from the airport.  I was done.

The best week of this spring happened a couple weeks after that, after I returned from two nights in the Bahamas.  My husband had a business trip to Nassau, so for the price of my airfare and food, I tagged along.  And I slept.  The following week was the best week this spring because it was the only time I was well-rested!

It has been a rough spring, a rough Lent.  Except, truthfully, I’m not in Lent.  I’m not being pruned or disciplined or in a season of turning to God.  I’m in Advent.  I’m waiting for God.  I’m waiting, expectantly, sometimes impatiently.  Waiting for another child to be born.  Waiting to move.  Waiting to find out if and in what capacity I’ll serve a church after June.  Waiting.  Something exciting is coming.  But I’m still waiting.  And making all the preparations in the meantime.  Packing.  Going to OB appointments.  The house went on the market on Sunday.  I’ve applied for jobs at churches.  And a District Superintendent has promised to call me in the next week.  Actively waiting.  It’s hard.

If you want a sign of hope, I do feel like I’m near the end of Advent.  The fourth candle has been lit on the Advent wreath.  I feel like I’m really close, things are about to happen (except with this baby, he better not be born until August!).  But the other changes are imminent, we’re in the final days, the final weeks, the end is almost in sight. 

And yet… this past Sunday at church was Youth Sunday and of all the things the kids shared, the phrase that stuck with me is that “this is not the end.”  So, the end of the waiting is coming soon.  The end of the story is not.

Eat Like You Mean It

Maundy Thursday

April 17, 2014

Exodus 12:1-14; Luke 22:14-23

            Jon Strother is the District Superintendent of our neighboring district, the Capital District.  He’s also an amateur photographer and often posts pictures that he takes on Facebook.  A few days ago he shared a picture that he took of a cup from Hardees’, with their new slogan, “Eat like you mean it.”  It struck me that this was pretty appropriate for any time that we talk about communion.  Communion is an important meal; it’s not something we do haphazardly.  Jesus very intentionally instituted it and left instructions to continue celebrating it.  I don’t know about you, but I look forward to every time that I get to participate in communion.  The Scriptures that we read tonight tell the story behind this meal. 

            The text Pastor Ken just read is Luke’s account of what we call “the Last Supper.”  This is Jesus’ last meal before he is betrayed by Judas a couple hours later and handed over to the authorities, who eventually decide to crucify him.  In “the Last Supper,” Jesus was celebrating the Passover. This is a feast that the Jewish people still celebrate today.  It’s the commemoration of the tenth and final plague of Exodus, often called the plague of the firstborn, and which we read about in our first Scripture lesson.  The term “Passover” is used because the Lord “passed over” all of the houses with lamb blood on the doorpost, which was all the Israelite houses, and killed the firstborn in all the houses without blood on the doorposts, which was primarily the Egyptians, and included Pharaoh’s house.  It is after this plague that Pharaoh finally agreed to let the Israelite slaves leave Egypt.  Every year the Jewish people celebrate the Passover, remembering that once they were slaves in Egypt, but God delivered them and brought them out of Egypt and now they are free. 

The reason that we say that Jesus’ ministry lasted three years is because the Gospels record three times that he went to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover feast.  This last time that Jesus celebrated the Passover, he transformed it into the first Eucharist:

“While they were eating the meal, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.”  Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

In the last supper, Jesus widened the scope of the Passover feast to include the whole human race.  We all were once slaves, in our case, slaves to sin and death, but now we are free!  Jesus invites us to remember that whenever we participate in Holy Communion.  We were once slaves to sin and death, but Jesus has forgiven us and set us free.  In Jesus’ body and blood, the Lord has “passed over” all of us and not given us the death we deserve.  The word “Eucharist” means thanksgiving, because when we celebrate the Eucharist, we are indeed thankful for what Christ has done for us. 

Now, just how Christ did it was a hot topic during the Protestant Reformation.  Before then, the Roman Catholic Church taught, and still teaches, that Christ was actually physically present in the elements, that “this is my body” and “this is my blood” mean that the bread and the wine actually become Christ’s body and blood.  This is known as the doctrine of transubstantiation and how the early Christians got accused of cannibalism.  Then came the Protestant Reformation in the 1500’s and each reformer had their own take on what happened in the Eucharist.  Martin Luther stayed the closest to Catholicism and said it was consubstantiation, that Christ was physically present alongside the elements of bread and the wine; the bread and wine didn’t transform, but Christ was present, too.  The main reformer who argued with him was Ulrich Zwingli, a Swiss pastor, who said that Christ was present in the hearts of the believers, not in the elements themselves.  John Calvin tried to mediate between these two and said that Christ was spiritually present in the elements, but not physically present.  If you’ve gotten confused yet, you should see the charts we drew in my Church History class!  Those are just the three main arguments.  As for us Methodists, John Wesley in the 1700s came closest to Calvin’s position.  He taught that it’s not transubstantiation, but it’s not mere memorial, either, that something does happen when we bless the bread and the wine.  The explanation in our Book of Discipline follows Calvin’s viewpoint, that Christ is spiritually present, but not physically present.  Communion was also important enough to Wesley that he participated in it every opportunity that he had. 

            So, something happens when we celebrate the Eucharist.  We remember that God passed over our sins and set us free from them.  We know that Christ is present in some way.  But there is still one more thing that happens when we all come to the table and that is that we eat together, we share a meal.  In the United Methodist Church we celebrate an open table, which means that anyone and everyone is welcome to participate.  It doesn’t matter whether you’re a member of the church, whether you’re baptized, whether you’re sure of what you believe about all this or not.  Everyone is welcome.  All that’s required is a desire to come.  God welcomes everyone who comes to him. 

At my previous church there was a lady who shared with me that while she appreciated all that, she had been taught years ago at another church that if you were sinning, then you could not receive communion.  She is not married to the man she has lived with for twenty years and the father of her teenage boys. Technically, he never divorced his wife in Mexico. By common-law standards, this couple is married. But they've never actually had a wedding in a church. And so she did not participate in the Lord's Supper because she was taught that she was unworthy.  My heart went out to her, while two responses formed in my head. One, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). None of us is worthy. We are all sinners in need of a Redeemer. Two, I was reminded of a song the praise band loved to sing: “Amor Sin Condicion,” or, “Unconditional Love.” Communion is one sign of God's unconditional love for us, one means of grace. God loves us no matter what.  God puts no conditions on his love for us; and we put no conditions on who can participate at his table.  Look at who was at that first table with Jesus – Judas, who was about to betray him; Peter, who was about to deny him not just once but three times; and the rest of the disciples who ran away from him when the going got tough.  Jesus loved them all, and invited them to share in the first communion.

Sharing a meal together is intimate.  Eating together brings people closer together.  Pastor Ken and I have seen the change at the 8:00 service, which has celebrated communion every week for over a year now.  There’s something about eating together that builds community.  Those disciples, except for Judas, reassembled after Jesus’ death.  After Jesus’ ascension, they continued to spread the Gospel that Jesus had taught them and they became the early Church.  There is something about eating together, about all coming to the same table.  There is no adults’ table and kids’ table.  There are no boundaries on who can come.  We all come together.

Yesterday I joined the Beloved Women’s group for lunch.  They have lunch together every so often, especially when they’re between studies, and they invite me.  We ate at Vimala’s Curryblossom Café, and as most of you area aware, Vimila, the owner and chef at her restaurant on Franklin Street, is also a church member here at Orange.  She served us family style, and we passed all the dishes around.  Eating breaks down boundaries and sitting around a table full of food enables us to get to know one another in ways that we don’t on Sunday morning or on the phone or email or in a meeting.  You learn about likes and dislikes and food allergies and who’s left-handed and all kinds of little things that come up at a meal together. 

Vimala also shared that her son had won first place in the Independent Weekly newspaper’s poetry contest.  His winning poem was about his mom, Vimala, and is titled “Notes from Our Chef.”[1]  I’d like to conclude by reading it:

Move fast, stay sharp. If it's not sharp, it's not a knife.
Be attentive to guests. Be interested, be loving, be generous in all things,
to each other and to them. The answer is yes.
The work we are doing is sacred. This food has come to us through God,
and we will serve it as his hands and feet. Wash your hands frequently
and wear closed-toed nonslip shoes. Be patient. A great meal is a spiritual experience.
You are empowered now as an extension of me to have a sense of ownership.
Own this, the words that you say and your every action. These ships that are blown
by strong winds are driven by small rudders, so watch your touch
that you don't put a single hand onto a plate in anger. And above all,
watch your tongues. Your tongue becomes your eyes when we lose our sight,
but it moves as a deadly weapon—more poisonous than the serpent's tooth. Control it.  It does not control you.

Beloved, not many of you should become chefs
because you know that we who teach shall be judged more harshly.
But I am with you in this. Do as I would do. You are empowered
to give what you need to give and say what you need to say
to make their experience positive. They are not customers, they are our guests.
They are not your guests, they are your family. Your self and the hand that feeds you, nearer than sight when your own family leaves you. They will come back and be here believing when you are tired, because you'll forget as you feed from this every day, how good this is, but they won't, because it is. It tastes good to them,
it tastes good to them, you can tell by the way they give themselves to it,
it is that good, down to the base chemistry.
We are alchemists working through generations of history.
Learn the recipes.

Amen.

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[1] http://www.indyweek.com/indyweek/introducing-the-winners-of-the-20th-annual-indy-poetry-contest/Content?oid=4042124

Highway to the Danger Zone, Part II

Palm Passion Sunday

April 13, 2014

Matthew 21:1-11; Philippians 2:5-11

            There is a tumblr blog that I follow called “Ev’ry day I’m pastorin’…”  A recent entry is titled “The Plight of the Associate Pastor” with a video clip from the movie “27 Dresses” showing the lead actress Katherine Heigl wearing one of her 27 bridesmaid dresses.[1]  The caption reads, “Always preaches Palm Sunday, never Easter.”  I truly don't mind, because there’s an advantage to preaching the same holy day each year, and that is that I remember what I preached about last year.  You see, it had a catchy title: “Highway to the Danger Zone.”  Last year I focused on how Jesus enters Jerusalem knowing that his Passion is coming, knowing that Good Friday is coming, knowing that the crowd that today shouts “Hosanna!” will in just five days shout “Crucify him!”  This year has become Part II because I’d like to take that idea a little further.  This year, I realized that Jesus does the joyful procession with the palms not just knowing that Good Friday’s coming, not just knowing that Easter’s coming three days later, but knowing the long-term future, the last things, the end of time.  He does this triumphal entry into the danger zone not just knowing danger is imminent, but from the vantage point of God’s kingdom fully come.  Jesus knows the end end game. 

            A couple weeks ago my Disciple class did an exercise that invited us to consider present events and dilemmas from the last things of your life, and I’d like us all to think about it for a minute.  Close your eyes, and think about what’s going on in your life right now.  What’s troubling you?  Now, imagine yourself at the end of your life.  In your last hours, your last days, will that trouble matter?  Looking back at your life from that vantage point, will whatever you’re going through be all that important?  What will be important then?  [pause]  You can open your eyes now.  It’s an interesting way to gain perspective.  Jesus perceives events this way throughout the Gospels, he views the present from the angle of the future.  He tells the disciples multiple times what’s going to happen with regards to his death and resurrection and that God’s kingdom is going to come.  And yet, even though Jesus can look back on his passion from the future, that doesn’t seem to make it any easier for him to go through this week.  He seems somewhat reluctant to go through with what he knows is coming, and he even knows how it’s going to turn out! 

We are all plagued with fear and doubt at times, and that includes Jesus.  As our second reading, also known as the Philippian Christ hymn, explained, in Christ, God took on human form.  Jesus is fully God and fully human and his fully human self experiences the whole range of human emotions.  He enjoys spending time with his friends and he weeps when his friend, Lazarus, dies.[2]  Jesus gets mad when he enters the temple and kicks out everyone who set up shop inside a holy place of worship.[3]  He calls King Herod a “fox”![4]  And as we journey with Jesus through Holy Week, we discover that while he is willing to carry out God’s will, there are times he doesn’t really want to.  Listen to his prayer in the garden of Gethsemane: “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”[5]  Or, in another translation: “Father, this is the last thing I want. If there is any way, please take this bitter cup from Me. Not My will, but Yours be done.”[6]  Or my husband’s paraphrase: “Seriously, Dad?  Do I have to?  Can’t we just do the fire and brimstone thing again?  No?  *sigh* Fine.” 

Jesus seems to have a few doubts.  He’s reluctant to do what God’s calling him to do.  The path is clear.  The happy parade into Jerusalem will lead to the cross will lead to victory over death and the salvation of the world.  Jesus knows God’s long-term plan, he knows what he’s gotta do, and he knows today begins a time of great trial and tribulation that will eventually lead to his death on a cross.  The disciples, on the other hand, think today is great!  Jesus is finally entering Jerusalem and will inaugurate his kingdom!  Yay God!  But Jesus has a different perspective on things.  He knows the rest of the story after today, and while the long-term is good (who doesn’t want to defeat death?), the short-term is fraught with peril (or, in modern parlance, sucks). 

Is that something you can identify with?  Are there times when you know God is calling you to something, but the journey from now to that place seems full of potential for disaster and so many unknowns?  You know God’s calling, but how he’s going to make a way just isn’t clear?  It’s all right to be reluctant.  Captain America in his newest movie has his doubts about what he’s doing and whether he’s doing the right thing or not.  Right and wrong were a lot clearer during World War II than they are now.  However, Captain America is a soldier, and soldiers obey orders.  He has his reservations, but he still does as he’s told. 

Because what’s important is that we follow through with it, anyway.  God calls us to follow him boldly, despite our fears and doubts and questions and reluctance.  Even Jesus, “being found in human form, humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”[7]  Jesus was obedient to God’s plan for his life.  He knows that the crowd cheering him today is fickle, and will turn on him by Friday.  But I can’t imagine him not smiling and enjoying today’s procession and enjoying the people’s happiness.  Jesus doesn’t sulk his way through the crowd.  He goes through with it, boldly. 

The very first sermon ever I preached before I’d even had a class on preaching and was at my first summer field ed.  The text was from Genesis 22, when God asks Abraham to take his only son Isaac and sacrifice him.  God had already promised to Abraham that he would make of him a great nation through Isaac, offspring as numerous as the stars.  It doesn’t say what Abraham was thinking, we’re just told his actions, but Abraham had to be wondering.  What God was asking him to do didn’t make sense.  But Abraham trusts God and obeys him, anyway.  He does what God asks, even though it didn’t make sense.  Since this was my first sermon, it didn’t have three points and I only had one illustration, taken from my life.  Before seminary I had been serving in Nicaragua on a three-year contract with a mission agency.  After only one year, God said it was time to leave and to go to seminary.  I had my doubts about that, as you might imagine.  Leaving early meant leaving my students, breaking my contract with the mission agency, and announcing an abrupt change of plans to my supporters.  Plus, I had already done grad school once and I swore I was never going back to school!  It didn’t make sense for me to return to the U.S. permanently at that time.  But I did.  And two weeks after I finished that first field ed is when my husband and I were married.  God knew the long-term plan; he has that advantage.  He knew it was the right time for me to return.  I had to put aside my doubts and follow. 

If we face our fears with our faith in God, he will see us through.  A lot of us are going through major life changes this spring: selling a house, changing jobs, the death of a parent, the birth of a child, the graduation of a grown child.  I don’t know if it’s the season, or what, but it seems that a lot of us are going through major transitions this spring, some which we chose and others which we didn’t.  We have our doubts and our fears about what’s going on.  We may pray for a sign for reassurance that we’re doing the right thing.  Sometimes God sends neon signs and sometimes it’s harder to interpret.  Sometimes it’s our own fault and we ignore the sign because we don’t actually really want to do what God’s calling us to do and we’d rather pretend otherwise. 

Christian comedian Ken Davis tells the following story about waiting for a “sign from God.”  A Christian gets on an empty city bus, walks to the rear, and sits down.  ‘Lord,’ he prays, ‘if you want me to speak to someone about you, please give me a sign.’  At the next stop another passenger boards the bus, goes all the way to the back, and sits down right next to the Christian.  The passenger asks, “Do you know anything about Jesus?”  The Christian excuses himself for a moment and slowly bows his head and once again prays, ‘Lord, if you really want me to talk to this stranger, I need just one more sign.  Please turn the bus driver into an armadillo.’[8] 

Now, if you’re praying for armadillos, then it sounds like you don’t really want to do whatever it is you’re praying about.  You don’t want to obey God, whether out of fear or doubt or for some other reason.  Are you praying for armadillos?  Or are you ready and willing to follow your Savior wherever he may lead, including this week, to the cross?  God doesn’t always call us to things that make sense by the world’s standards.  He calls us to die to ourselves and live to him.  He calls us to be obedient.  And if you are obedient, God will see you through. 

My Disciple class moved into the book of Acts this week and the first few chapters talk about how the apostles and early believers act and preach boldly.  Moreover, the early church prays for more boldness!  What would happen if we were to pray for more boldness?  If we were to act more boldly, and less fearfully?  If we were to follow Jesus, wherever he may lead us, secure in the knowledge that there’s no safer place to be than in the center of God’s will?  Sometimes following Jesus leads us through a danger zone.  Sometimes it means we go through a period of uncertainty as we wait for God to open a door, or even a window.  Sometimes it’s hard to follow Jesus, but he’s a better wingman than Iceman or Maverick, and he will see us through, just as he will see us through this Holy Week as we follow him yet again to the cross.  Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services are both at 7 p.m.  Come listen to the story again, discern where God’s calling you to obey him, and gain the courage to take up your cross and follow him once more.

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[1] http://everydayimpastoring.tumblr.com/post/81100757678/the-plight-of-the-associate-pastor

[2] John 11:35

[3] Matthew 21:12 MSG

[4] Luke 13:32

[5] Matthew 26:39 NIV

[6] Matthew 26:39, The Voice

[7] Philippians 2:8

[8] www.preachingtoday.com/illustrations/2012/december/7121712.html