Hopeful Joy

1^st Sunday of Advent

December 1, 2019

Isaiah 2:1-5; Romans 13:11-14

            There is a movie coming out on Christmas Day about World War I called “1917.” The first lines in the preview are from the actor Benedict Cumberbatch who plays Colonel Mackenzie. He says, “I had hoped that today might be a good day. Hope is a dangerous thing.” Hope is a dangerous thing. There are times when we don’t dare to hope, because we don’t want to risk being disappointed. There are times when we don’t want to get our hopes up, because we’re trying to be realistic. Yet it seems reasonable to hope that today might be a good day. Now, what happens when we combine hope with joy? Our theme for this Advent is joy, as we’re celebrating the 300^th anniversary of “Joy to the World.” When we add joy to hope, what does it look like? What does it feel like? Joy that is hopeful is active. It looks like a smile and an upturned face. It’s expectant and anticipatory, much like many of us are sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner or like little kids on Christmas morning. Hopeful joy.

            This is joy that cultivates and nurtures hope. Take a look at our Isaiah reading for an example. Isaiah chapter 1 is a realistic picture of what’s actually going on in Judah – violence, bribery, unfaithfulness, desolation, trampling on the poor. God’s people not following God’s laws. God calls for repentance, tells the people to “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of those who have no one to speak for them. Plead the case of the poor.”[1] Yet by and large, God’s people are rebelling against God, doing as they please, and criticizing those who need help. That’s chapter 1. So chapter 2 feels almost like Isaiah is starting over again: “That’s what I observed right in front me. Now this is the vision that the Lord gave me of what will happen in the days to come. People of every nation will stream to Mt. Zion, God’s holy mountain, including those who were enemies of Israel and Judah. God’s word will go forth from Jerusalem; God will judge between the nations. The people will be transformed by this teaching. Can you see it? They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” This is where joy cultivates hope. It looks like a temple high on a mountain that all people come to and where weapons of violence are turned into tools for cultivation and farming. That’s a vision of hope, and not just of hope but of hopeful joy.

All people coming together. That’s been one of my guiding visions for my ministry, although I usually draw on Revelation 7 where John’s vision describes all people, from every nation, tribe, people and language, coming together to worship God together. It’s a vision of hopeful joy. All people coming together. And regardless of differences, worshiping God together. And adding in Isaiah 2, not just worshiping together but also offering up their weapons, placing them on God’s altar, and receiving back those same instruments now transformed into plows and shovels and rakes and hoes. It sounds like good news for our community. If we were to offer up violent words and actions that do harm, whether they’re intended to or not, and receive back tools for nurturing and cultivating. What would our community look like then? What would our church look like? That’s a vision worth pursuing. And it is a dangerous thing, because the enemy does not want us to have hope. Satan doesn’t want us to change or to be more purposeful in our actions. The enemy doesn’t want us to come together. He’d rather we stuck with violence, with racism and sexism, with divisions. That’s why this vision of hopeful joy is dangerous: because it can change the world.

            And doesn’t our world need changing? Doesn’t our world need hope? We know things are not as they should be or could be. Christian author Sarah Bessey wrote a blogpost last week called “Does Advent even matter when the world is on fire?”[2] She writes, “How do we celebrate or ‘get cozy’ or turn towards Christmas when our hearts are broken by Syria’s refugees, by Hong Kong’s protests, by Brexit, by the U.S.A. impeachment proceedings and detention camps, by broken treaties, by one another? When, in response to every crisis, our communities seem splintered and divided even in how to bind up each other’s wounds and careless words are flung like rocks at our own glass houses? When perhaps we are lonely or bored or tired or sick or broke or afraid? When we are grieving and sad? In these days, celebration can seem callous and uncaring, if not outright impossible. But here’s the thing: we enter into Advent precisely because we are paying attention.” Advent is a season of hope and anticipation. It is hope in the midst of all that’s going on. Hope knows that all is not as it should be. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have hope for something better. You don’t hope for peace when life is calm. You hope for peace when there is conflict and violence. We celebrate this season of Advent because we know that all is not as it should be.

            My new favorite Advent song is called “Waiting for You” by The Many. It begins, “The earth cries out/ Nothing feels right/ The world cries out/ No justice in sight/ Fires burning everywhere/ Too many, too hot, too bright/ We are waiting for you. We are waiting for you. We are waiting for that Gloria in excelsis Deo, Gloria in excelsis Deo,” that chorus from “Angels We Have Heard on High.” We’re waiting for Christmas and for the angels to sing again. We’re waiting for Jesus to be born again. We’re waiting for all to be made right with the world. Yet we don’t passively wait, sit back and put our feet up. Mark down the days on our Advent calendar. No, hopeful joy is active. And so finding joy, choosing joy, and recognizing things that spark joy is how we act out hopeful joy.

One good way to connect to that deep joy, where joy always lives, whether we’re tapped into it or not, is through rituals. This is a time of year that has a lot of rituals. Decorating for Christmas, which some of our neighbors did well before Thanksgiving. Putting up the Christmas tree. Playing your favorite Christmas music. Participating in our community cantata. Going Christmas caroling. Going to the horse parade. Baking Christmas cookies. Decorating gingerbread houses. Coming to worship during Advent as we light one more candle each week and Christmas Eve worship. These are all activities that have become traditions for so many of us because they help us tap into that well of deep joy. We do them each year, not usually out of a sense of obligation, but because we feel happy when we do them. They bring us joy. They are life-giving. We do these rituals each year because they’re a way to act out our hope, because they are places where joy lives. They help our hope turn into reality.  

            Our Romans reading this morning begins by saying, “You know what time it is.” And we respond by thinking, yes, we know what time it is. The busiest time of the year. The time I make a super long checklist to get everything ready. The time when I don’t want to schedule one more thing or commit myself to one more thing. The time when I have lots of shopping to do. Or, I don’t have to shop, but there are too many good sales to pass up. So, it’s time to spend money. But that’s not at all what Paul is getting at. We don’t read this passage about what time it is on the first Sunday of Advent because the time is the holiday season! Paul’s not saying wake up and go shopping! Paul’s saying, wake up from complacency. Wake up from accepting the status quo. Wake up from hopelessness. Wake up from the little things you do that cause or further division. Wake up and get dressed, not to go participate in capitalism but to go participate in God’s work of loving the world, bringing hope, sparking joy. “Paul knows what time it is: it is time to wake up and look forward to what God will do in the future and what God is beginning to do now in your life and mine.” It’s not time to go through the motions of Advent and Christmas. If that’s what you’re doing, if long-honored traditions are no longer bringing you hope or connecting you to deep joy, then don’t do them anymore. Find new traditions that do spark hope and joy. You’re allowed to do things differently and stop doing things that are life-draining. If a family member takes issue with it, then tell them just that. That old tradition doesn’t bring me joy anymore, it’s actually extremely draining, and so I thought I’d try this instead. And chances are, they will say ok. Your favorites are allowed to change. Your traditions are allowed to change.

            What time is it? Time to connect yourself to deep joy. Time to be hopeful, not just in attitude but in your words and actions. Time to actively live into that vision of hope. Hope is a dangerous thing. Nobody likes to be disappointed. Colonel Mackenzie has to hope the message gets there in time to stop 1,600 soldiers from walking into a trap. What do you see? Not just what’s right in front you, but what do you see that could be? What’s the vision you see? Do you see what I see?

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[1] Isaiah 1:17

[2] https://sarahbessey.substack.com/p/does-advent-even-matter-when-the?fbclid=IwAR12e19jf_tTarEeCpmsSZ4g9o6O14xka_cNenkZiBbWM8tmEgoqZ7zOvYU

Kind of King

Christ the King Sunday

November 24, 2019

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43

The kingship of Christ tends to rub our American sensibilities the wrong way. Our ancestors fought a way to get away from a king and set up a different kind of government where power was shared and with a system of checks and balances. We’re really not sure about kings today, unless they’re figureheads, like many of the world’s remaining monarchs, or they’re the fathers of Disney princesses like King Triton and…, well, how many Disney kings can you name? Even in fairytale kingdoms, they’re still mostly figureheads. And I think that’s why we have trouble relating to and understanding Jesus Christ as King. If he’s like the kings of old, we’re not sure we want him to have all the power and none for us. Or, if he’s a figurehead, he’s basically pretty useless and powerless. I was reading this past week a book that suggested that part of why so many of our churches are having trouble moving forward are because so many people who claim to be Christian are actually functional atheists. The accusation stung, especially this sentence: “Instead of believing in the manna that came from God’s hand, the church learned to set its own table and provide its own feast.”[1] As in, we think we have to produce all the resources (people, dollars, and influence) in order to make ministry happen. We believe we have to provide it! That’s functional atheism. It’s acting as if God doesn’t exist. As if God doesn’t provide. As if God doesn’t give us enough. The truth is God provided manna for the Israelites in the wilderness, enough for each day, and God provides enough for us, too, our daily bread. Christ the King is not a powerless figurehead. He is all-powerful, almighty – the difference from the kings of history is that he doesn’t abuse his power. Instead of using it to oppress people, he uses it to lift up the lowly.

Let’s start with our Gospel lesson this morning. The place is Golgotha, which means the Skull, also called Calvary. The scene is Jesus’ crucifixion. Jesus is hung on the middle cross and there is a criminal hung on a cross on each side of him. Jesus is mocked three times that this King of the Jews cannot save himself. Because kings are supposed to be powerful, right? And yet this king’s power is called into question, not just once but three times. What they don’t know is that by not saving only himself, this king can now save everyone. But before he gets there, look closer at what King Jesus does right before he dies. In Luke’s Gospel, this is Jesus’s last action before dying. He forgives. This is a King who forgives. First, he forgives those who crucified him! On your death bed, and you forgive what’s causing you to die. Some people do. Some people are at peace with it. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” They think they know what they’re doing. They think they’ve got this troublemaker, this person who would dare to defy the Roman Empire, this self-proclaimed blasphemer Son of God right where they want him. They don’t know what they’re doing. And even in agony and pain from the nails in his hands and his feet, because crucifixion is truly a painful way to die, Jesus forgives them. That’s what kind of King he is.

But he’s not just done there! Then there are these two actual criminals on each side of him, who know that their actions deserve punishing. One man joins in the mockery of Jesus’s power, “If you are who you say you are, if you are the Messiah, the Savior” (can you hear the sarcasm?), “then save yourself and us.” Before Jesus can respond, the other man criticizes him, calls him out on his functional atheism, because the first man does not truly believe that Jesus can save him. The second man points out that the two of them are getting what they deserve whereas Jesus is not. Jesus is innocent. And he says those beautiful words, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” This second man is a believer, and he recognizes that Jesus is the Christ, the Savior, the King. Jesus says yes, in effect forgiving this man who’s on the cross next to him, whose sins needed forgiving. That’s the kind of King Jesus is. He didn’t come for the do-gooders, for those who are sinless. As Jesus says earlier in Luke’s Gospel, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”[2] And he’s doing it even here, on the cross.

Another description of that is found in our Colossians reading this morning. It said, God “has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”[3] God saved us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into Jesus’s kingdom. It’s like that great verse from Isaiah that we read during Advent, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.”[4] We move from the kingdom of darkness and sin, where those things are in control and have power, to Jesus’ kingdom of light and love and forgiveness, where Jesus is King.

To add in our Jeremiah reading, Jesus is “a king who will reign wisely and do what is right and just.” Jesus is a King who gathers the flock, who seeks us out, and invites us to come back to the fold. Come home. It’s like that old hymn, “Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me; see on the portals he’s watching and waiting, watching for you and for me. Come home, come home; you who are weary, come home; earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, calling O sinner, come home!”[5] That’s the kind of king Jesus is. He does not force you. He does not say my way or the highway. He says, “This is the way that leads to life.” He says, “Follow me if you believe God’s kingdom is at hand.” He says, “I want you with me, in my kingdom. I like having you with me. You are important to me.” He says, “You do not need to be afraid any longer. You do not need to run or hide any longer. I love you.” This is the kind of king Jesus is: the kind who knows your name; the kind who will leave his throne and personally come find you; the kind who loves you no matter what and says there’s always a place for you at his table. This is a different kind of king than the world has ever experienced.

This is a king of love, as we sang in our middle hymn. And not only are we to feel and know the security and comfort of this king’s love and forgiveness and belonging, we are also to emulate this king. We are to love others as Jesus loves us. We are to forgive others as we have been forgiven (that’s actually part of the Lord’s Prayer!). We are to make space for others at our table. We are not part of a clique or a country club, we’re the church! We’re a hospital for sinners: you, me, everyone who walks through that door or turns down our driveway. This should be a safe space, where you are not judged or critiqued because of your sin or your looks or anything else! This should be a safe space, where all feel welcome and heard and included and safe. That’s what it means to share the love of Jesus. That’s what it means to be rooted in Christ, rooted in Jesus’ love, in order to nurture our community from that unending well of love. Christ the King isn’t a figurehead and we who bear his name as Christian shouldn’t function as atheists. Our words and our actions should proclaim Jesus as the Lord of our lives, Lord of our church, Lord of our country, and Lord of our world! Too many of us, and I’m talking to you inside these walls, not to those out there, too many of us here don’t live that way. We think our actions are what save us. We think we need to go find other resources than what God has already given us. Beloved, others aren’t going to save us. That work has already been done, on a hill far away. Jesus could have climbed down from the cross and saved only himself. Wouldn’t the people loved to have seen that! Instead, he stayed so that all could be saved, so that all sins could be forgiven, so that all might know how much God loves them.

As you go forth this week, as you sit around Thanksgiving tables, add an extra chair and place setting, so that you’re ready for one more. If you know someone who may not have a table to join, invite them to yours. It’s better to have ten invitations than zero. Remember, Jesus seeks out the lost and the lonely. That’s part of the work he invites us to join him in. And in today’s world, there are more lonely people than ever. I was talking with some of my clergy colleagues who also serve this area and it was mentioned that while some people move to this area to be alone, to live a little more secluded, to have more space, one unintended consequence is that sometimes they then become more lonely. Being alone can be good or bad or neutral. Being lonely means that you want someone to notice you, to see you, to include you. The Beatles wrote “Eleanor Rigby,” “look at all the lonely people,” over 50 years ago, and it’s more true today than it was then. This week, seek someone out. Include someone. Invite someone. Entertain angels unawares, as the book of Hebrews says of welcoming strangers. And if you’re the one feeling lonely, this is my invitation to you, call me. Come to my house for lunch today. Or let’s meet for coffee or lunch next week.

The other hymn I was thinking of while writing this sermon is the one called “Freely, Freely.” It’s 389 in your red hymnal. I invite you to join me in singing. “God forgave my sin in Jesus' name, I've been born again in Jesus' name, And in Jesus' name I come to you, To share His love as He told me to. He said freely, freely, You have received, Freely, freely give, Go in My name, And because you believe, Others will know that I live. All pow'r is giv'n in Jesus' name, In earth and heav'n in Jesus' name, And in Jesus' name I come to you, To share His pow'r as He told me to. He said freely, freely, You have received, Freely, freely give, Go in My name, And because you believe, Others will know that I live.”

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[1] Quietly Courageous: Leading the Church in a Changing World by Gil Rendle, p. 77

[2] Luke 5:31-32

[3] Colossians 1:13-14

[4] Isaiah 9:2

[5] UMH 348

Courage

22^nd Sunday after Pentecost

November 10, 2019

Haggai 1:15b-2:9; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17

            You may have noticed a theme in the All Saints songs we sang last week, something that’s spelled out in the All Saints song we sang this morning: saints are patient and brave and true. Every song about saints talks about how they are bold and courageous. The passage in the Bible we tend to think about when we hear the phrase “strong and courageous” is when the Israelites are getting ready to enter the Promised Land. Their 40 years of wandering in the wilderness is at an end. Moses sinned and his punishment is that he’s not allowed to lead the people across the border. In one of his last speeches, he tells the new leader Joshua, in front of all the people, “Be strong and courageous, for you must go with this people into the land that the Lord promised to their ancestors to give them, and you must divide it among them as their inheritance. The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”[1] Those are Moses’ parting words as he passes the torch of leadership to Joshua. Then, after Moses dies, the Lord speaks to Joshua and says, “[Get ready to cross the Jordan River into the Promised Land.] As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their ancestors to give them. Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go… Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”[2] Three times, be strong and courageous, and that reminder to not be afraid, because the Lord your God is always with you.

            This is the same refrain that the Lord tells Haggai hundreds of years later as Haggai prepares his people for something new. If you remember, Israel lived in the Promised Land for quite some time, ruled by judges and then kings. The kingdom split after King Solomon and into Israel in the north and Judah in the south. Then came the conquering armies: first the Assyrians who conquered Israel and later the Babylonians who conquered Judah. God’s people were taken into exile and their homes destroyed. The prophets stayed with God’s people throughout the exile, like Jeremiah who told the people to settle down in exile and build homes there and have families. The exile lasted about 70 years when “King Cyrus of Persia announced that the peoples who had earlier been exiled by the Babylonians could return to their homelands. They could settle in, rebuild, and worship as they wished. Persia would retain ultimate control, but Judea would have some modicum of say in the everyday order. So, exiled Judeans, though mostly their descendants, returned to Jerusalem and set about the difficult work of rebuilding a city. It was not a wholly peaceful time as those who returned had conflict with those who had remained among the rubble and those who had moved in during the interim” (like Nehemiah who had gone back to rebuild the wall and the city gate).[3] One big source of conflict was rebuilding the temple. The original one had been built by King Solomon and was a thing of grandeur and beauty. It was destroyed when Babylon invaded. Rebuilding has begun, but some people think it’s moving too fast, they can’t afford it yet.

Haggai is the first prophet after the exile and his book is only two chapters long. In chapter 1, he reminds the people that they have homes and are quickly acquiring wealth. Surely they must have something for their God, too. They built their houses; it’s time to build a house of worship, too. Yes, they can afford it. In fact, they can’t afford not to.

In chapter 2, what we read this morning, the word of the Lord came to Haggai and said, “Go talk to Zerubbabel, the governor, go talk to Joshua, (different Joshua), this one is the high priest, and go talk to the people. There are a few who still remember the old temple in all its glory. To them, the new temple does not seem enough: big enough, fancy enough, good enough. Tell them to take courage, to be strong, and work, for I am with you and my Spirit remains among you. Do not be afraid!” That mandate to be courageous is repeated three times, just like with Joshua getting ready to enter the Promised Land. This time, it’s rebuilding God’s temple, which is going to look different than before, and God commands, “Take courage, Zerubbabel, the governor. Take courage, Joshua, the high priest. And take courage, all my people, and get to work.” Do it, anyway. It doesn’t matter whether you don’t think you have enough resources. It’s not going to be like Solomon’s temple, anyway. That was then, this is now. Now, rebuilding this temple represents your priorities and your allegiance to God who sustains you. Be brave, be strong. Don’t get sucked into the mindset of scarcity and not enough. There is enough. You have all you need. So be strong and courageous and bold, and get to work.

Our reading from 2 Thessalonians is similar in this way to Haggai. These Christians in the early church believed that God could do anything, but they were doing nothing to help.[4] They were just passively waiting for Jesus’ return, which the early church believed would be soon. In the meantime, all they wanted to do was watch and cheer from the sidelines. They were unwilling and hesitant to get involved in the church. It’s like an end of the world scenario, right? The end is coming, so why bother with anything? Some people turn into the “frozen chosen,” even though God says to keep working. As we read in Luke, “God is not God of the dead but of the living.”[5] So, Paul told the early Christians to stand firm and be encouraged and strengthened. God is with you. God says that great things are going to happen and that your help is needed. So, be strong and courageous and get to work!

There are times when we’re afraid to take that next step, whether it’s entering the Promised Land or rebuilding or getting more involved. I was talking with a colleague last week about that moment between when I get ready to preach, and I open my mouth. It’s terrifying. But I trust that what I’ve prepared was inspired by the Holy Spirit. I trust that the Holy Spirit can work through me and my nervousness and my flaws and the limits of language. And I trust that you will hear the Word from God that you need to hear today, if you are open to receiving it, whether it’s something I actually say or not. I take a deep breath, and I just do it. There’s a reason why Nike was so effective with that slogan. It’s about overcoming fear. It’s about being courageous and brave. And that’s what God calls us to do, too. To have courage to live. To have courage to do what we know we need to do. It goes back to that passage from Hebrews I quoted last week about how because all the saints surround us, this great cloud of witnesses, then we can throw off everything that hinders us, like fear, and run the race set before us.

Sometimes we need the courage to face the fact that life is different than it used to be and there’s no going back. It’s not going to be like it was before a major medical diagnosis or a natural disaster or job loss or any other major life event. The new temple isn’t going to be like the old one, so it’s not helpful to compare the present to the past, which we usually idolize, anyway, rose-colored glasses and all that. The past isn’t usually as great as we think it was. Have courage to live in the present and have hope for the future. Trust it will be ok. In this case, comparing the present with how things used to be isn’t helpful; in fact, it’s downright harmful. Because this is a new time. Today is a new day, one we’ve never seen before and a day we’ll never see again. Today, will you be bold and courageous? Will you live into your calling as a saint of God, to be patient and brave and true? Will you have courage to face whatever it is you need to face, knowing, deep within you, that God is with you? That’s the meaning of Emmanuel, which we’ll hear and sing more about next month during Advent as we prepare for the coming of our Savior.

            This morning I’d like to end a little differently. I’d like to ask you to reflect first on last week and when last week did you have to be courageous. [Pause.] Then, where this week do you need courage? [Pause.] Now, turn to your neighbor and tell them so that they can pray for you. After each of you shares, I expect you each to pray for each other.

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[1] Deuteronomy 31:6-8

[2] Joshua 1:5-9

[3] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4275

[4] https://www.ministrymatters.com/all/entry/4371/worship-for-kids-november-10-2019

[5] Luke 20:38

Inheritance

All Saints Sunday

November 3, 2019

Ephesians 1:11-23; Luke 6:20-31

            In 2003, a new book burst on the fantasy/sci-fi scene, similar to Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. The big difference was that the author was only 20 years old and had started writing the book at age 15. The book, “Eragon,” is the first book in a four-book series called the Inheritance Cycle, and it tells the story of an orphaned farm boy named Eragon, who finds a mysterious blue stone in the woods. The stone turns out to be a dragon egg, and the series follows the adventures of Eragon and his dragon as they fight against the evil king and Eragon learns of his true inheritance. His parents had not simply abandoned him to be raised by his aunt and uncle, as he’d believed. His father was a famous dragon rider who’d gone into hiding and his mother had died shortly after his birth. Eragon becomes a famous dragon rider in his own right, although there is no happy ever after in this story. At the end, Eragon and his dragon leave their home to go train with other riders and dragons elsewhere.

            How many times have we received an inheritance that we’re not even aware of? I remember a friend in my early 20s who, after meeting my mom, pointed out that I sit the exact same way that she does. It’s easy to identify the physical things that we inherit because we can see them and hold them, like a piece of jewelry. It’s easy to see in my children the abilities they’ve inherited, from my daughter’s art skills that are already better than mine (she gets them from her dad) to my son’s love of baseball and throwing arm, that goes back generations on my dad’s side of the family. It can be harder to name the things we can’t touch, the things we can’t see. Here in the church, we have received an inheritance, also, with some tangible pieces, like a church building, and some pieces that are intangible, like our faith. We have received an inheritance that spans 2,000 years of church history, and even longer when you consider the whole story of God and God’s people, going back to creation. 

Did you know that the first definition of tradition isn’t “a long established way of acting and thinking” and it’s not “a continuing pattern of cultural beliefs and practices”? Tradition, at its root, is “the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs, information, from generation to generation.” The root is Latin, “traditio,” which means to hand on. Our inheritance in the Church is something that’s been handed on to us, the next generation. I’m sure most of us can name people in our lives who were instrumental in our receiving this inheritance. Sunday school teachers, godparents, pastors, other adults in the church all taught us about our faith and showed us how to live our faith. They passed it on to us. The Church is a living tradition as each subsequent generation inherits the faith and tradition of those who have gone before. Does it mean we do it exactly the same? No. Each generation practices it in their own way. It’s the same inheritance being pass on, the same Christian faith. Yet it looks a lot different to be a Christian today than it did 50 years ago, and different from 150 years ago, and different during the Protestant Reformation and different during the Middle Ages and different in the early church. Same faith, same inheritance passed on from generation to generation, and the origin of it is Christ.

In Ephesians we read, “In Christ we have received an inheritance.” The version we read this morning says that “in Christ, we were chosen.” Chosen for what? To receive an inheritance. And the pledge of our inheritance, the sign of it, the guarantee or down payment of our inheritance is the Holy Spirit. Verse 13 says, “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit.” What’s that mean? When you were baptized, wherever it was, the pastor made the sign of the cross on your forehead, marking you and sealing you as Christ’s own forever. And the Holy Spirit was present there at your baptism, sanctifying the water, making it holy. If you are baptized, then you have received this inheritance that was marked by the Holy Spirit. If you’re not baptized and feel the Spirit nudging you that you’d like to be, give me a call this week and let’s talk, because this is the inheritance waiting for you.

Now, let’s talk about the why. Why do we receive this inheritance? Or perhaps, why does God through Christ Jesus and the Holy Spirit offer this inheritance to us? So that you may know hope. Paul tells the Ephesians, “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be opened in order that you may know the hope to which God has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.” God has called you to hope. This is the glorious inheritance of God’s people. That in the face of loss, in the face of suffering, in the face of tragedy and evil, we might still have hope. We know that death is not the end. That’s part of why we celebrate All Saints every year. We know that there is this great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us and encourages us and supports us and nurtures us. And this great cloud is both people here present with us as well as those who have gone before us.

Kate Bowler was finishing her doctorate in church history at Duke while I was in seminary there. Not long after we each graduated, she was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. She’s about my age. She has a son right around my daughter’s age. In the midst of dealing with all of it, she wrote a book to her son that she considered to be a goodbye letter. It’s called “Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved”; it’s good, it’s short, I highly recommend it. Well, she’s still around, she’s received tenure at Duke, and she’s begun a podcast called “Everything Happens,” interviewing people about what they’ve learned during dark times. One of these was a father whose two year old daughter died in a random tragedy and one of the things he said that has stuck with me is that “just because there isn’t a body doesn’t mean there isn’t a relationship.”[1] Just because there isn’t a body, just because a person has died, doesn’t mean you don’t still have a relationship with that person. Many of you know that my last grandparent died this fall. Does this mean I’m no longer a granddaughter or that my grandparents are no longer my grandparents? No! It changes the relationship but it does not eliminate the relationship. Furthermore, I believe I’ll see my grandparents again in heaven. They are still part of the great cloud of witnesses that surrounds me, that surrounds us. That never changed.

And continuing in Hebrews, where that great cloud of witnesses is found, it says because they surround us and support us and nurture us, let us throw off everything that hinders us, get rid of everything that gets in the way, and run with perseverance the race that is set before us. Last week Paul said he had finished the race, he had fought the good fight, he had kept the faith. He knew his time was near and he was reflecting back on what he had done with his inheritance. He’s now part of that great cloud of witnesses and because we have this long history of the Church, because we have all these saints who have gone before us, we can keep the faith, too. We can run the race that is set before us, encouraged and with determination.

Also, because we have received this inheritance, we have a responsibility to hand it on, also. The tradition doesn’t stop here with us. The Church doesn’t end here, with us. We are here to pass it on to the next generation. And in case you haven’t noticed, Millenials are now all grown up. I’m talking about the next generation, which I’ve heard called Generation Alpha. We went through X, Y, and Z, and now what’s old is new again. One of my mom’s favorite hymns, to speak of things inherited, is one by Charles Wesley called “A Charge to Keep I Have.” It begins, “A charge to keep I have, a God to glorify, a never-dying soul to save, and fit it for the sky. To serve the present age, my calling to fulfill, O may it all my pow'rs engage to do my Master's will!”[2] This is our charge, too. Our job is to hand on the story, the old, old story of Jesus and his love, and the next generation will tell it in their own new way. Even that hymn, “I Love to Tell the Story,” recognizes that the story gets told in repeatedly new ways. It ends, “And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song, ’Twill be the old, old story, That I have loved so long.”[3] It’s going to take on different forms, and that’s ok. It’s for the sake of keeping the story alive. It’s because we serve a God who is ever doing a new thing. Our brains are trained to notice what’s different and be alarmed by it. However, each generation has always done things their own way. Church in 50 years isn’t going to look like church today, and that’s a good thing. Our job is to pass along the message in a way that the next generation will receive it. The form does not matter so much. In fact, sometimes the form can get in the way of the message.

We have received an inheritance that we are to pass on. We are the saints for the next generation of Christians. We’re only here because of those who have gone before us. And this isn’t an inheritance that can get used up and once it’s gone, it’s gone. Oh no. We pass on the same inheritance, the same story of Jesus and his love. It’s made a difference in your life. I know I would not be up here if not for the inheritance I received and for the saints who have gone before, nurturing, teaching, encouraging, and loving me.  So, let us rejoice in God’s saints and thank God for them!

Lisbon UMC altar on All Saints Sunday 2019

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[1] Jayson Greene: The Language of Grief, on “Everything Happens” with Kate Bowler, https://katebowler.com/podcasts/jayson-greene-the-language-of-grief/

[2] UMH 413

[3] UMH 156

All Saints’ Eve (a.k.a., Happy Halloween!)

20^th Sunday after Pentecost

October 27, 2019

Joel 2:23-32; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18; Luke 18:9-14

            Happy Halloween! Next Sunday is All Saints’ Sunday, and unlike other holy days, there isn’t much build up to it. Christmas has the four weeks of Advent and Christmas Eve. Easter has the 40 days of Lent and then the high holy days of Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday. Pentecost gets the count of 50 days after Easter. Epiphany follows the 12 days of Christmas. But All Saints’ Sunday just kinda appears each year on the first Sunday of November. Well, knowing that All Saints is next week, when I first read our Scriptures for this morning, they made me think of a preparation for All Saints, or All Saints Eve, if you will, except we already have an All Saints Eve. It’s called Halloween, All Hallows Eve! Since our festivities on October 31 don’t involve coming to church, we’re going to celebrate this morning.

            The most obvious All Saints Eve text is the one from 2 Timothy. It’s debated whether Paul actually wrote the second letter to Timothy near the end of his life or whether another author wrote it in Paul’s name after his death. Either way, it describes Paul’s assessment of his life and mission as they draw to a close. We know that at the end he was imprisoned in Rome, which is where he died. Here in 2 Timothy, Paul seems quite aware that his death is near. Listen to what he says, “I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.” Isn’t that all the more any of us want to be able to say at the end? I kept the faith. I finished the race. I lived a life worthy of the calling I received from God (that’s from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians).

            There are a couple ways Jesus puts it in Matthew 25. First, from the parable Jesus tells about the 8 bags of gold, there is the expectation that you will use wisely and invest in the talents that God entrusted to you. Are you being faithful with what’s been entrusted to you? The people God’s given you to love, the talents and abilities God gave you to develop and use for his glory, and the material things given to you take care of during your lifetime. Have you been faithful? Immediately after the story of the talents, Jesus says it will be the time for the shepherd to separate the sheep from the goats. I’m not sure why the goats get scapegoated, but the questions Jesus asks here are about whether or not you loved your neighbor.  Did you feed the hungry? Did you give something to drink to the thirsty? When you saw a stranger, did you invite them in? Or when you saw someone needing clothes, did you clothe them? Did you go visit those who are sick and in prison? Because by doing those things, by showing love to your neighbor in those concrete ways, you showed you love God. Jesus says, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

            At the end of his life, Paul was confident that he had faithfully completed his apostolic mission. He had gone to the places where God sent him. He had proclaimed God’s word and shared the good news of Jesus Christ. He had developed leaders, like Timothy, to come along after him. And he had done all this even when facing not just possible rejection but for doing the work God called him to he received beatings, whippings, imprisonment, at the end, is facing death as a result of staying true to the calling God placed on his life. We don’t all have the same calling. I don’t know that any of us here are called to go around Asia Minor as a church planter. We’re here in western Howard County. I’ve been called here, to serve with you. And as I look around and listen and pray, I think God’s calling us specifically to a mission of strengthening and nurturing families. How can we help the families in our community so that they have healthy relationships with each other, so that they are less overwhelmed, so that they have time to spend with each other, nurturing their faith and opportunities to serve God as well? We’re off to a good start. We’ve got wisdom and love in our pews and we’ve got some of us deep in the trenches of raising children. When you’re done, at the end of your life, will you also be able to say that you were faithful and you fulfilled the calling God placed on your life?

            Being faithful isn’t just actions but also in your words and attitude toward God and towards others. In our Gospel lesson this morning Jesus tells the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector. Jesus tells this story specifically to people who are confident of their own righteousness and goodness and looked down on everyone else, as in, people who think they’re better than others. Their moral compass points to true North. Actually, it’s really easy to judge the Pharisee in this story. He’s obviously the bad guy, the one with the bad attitude. When I preached on this passage three years ago, in my previous appointment, I pointed out the things that the Pharisees did right. They were very disciplined. They prayed regularly. They tithed, which means they gave ten percent of their income to the temple. And what the Pharisee seems to be missing is someone to listen to him. He prays loudly, front and center at the temple, to make sure not just God but other people hear him. Everyone needs someone to listen to them. And just listen to listen. Not listen to fix or listen to give advice or in one ear and out the other. No, a lot of people just need someone to listen to them. They need to know that they’re heard. They need to know that they matter. Maybe that’s the boat you’re in this week. If you don’t know who else to call, call me. That’s part of my calling as pastor is to listen. For all of us saints, however, are you listening to others? Are you faithful in your listening?

As for praying, the tax collector offers a model prayer, sometimes called the Jesus prayer. “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” We talked last month about the Greek phrase for it, “Kyrie Eleison,” Lord, have mercy. Are you praying that? Both for yourself and for others? Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord, have mercy on my brother and sister who are hurting. If you find yourself at a loss for words when you’re praying, try those two sentences and stay faithful in your prayer life and in your listening, which are really the same thing.

            Our last All Saints Eve passage is from Joel. The second chapter of Joel is really fascinating. The first part of it describes a plague of locusts, disastrous in any agricultural community. Then comes the passage we read on Ash Wednesday at the beginning of Lent, “‘Even now,’ declares the Lord, ‘return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.’ Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.” And then comes this promise that we read, a promise of abundance and of plenty and of being fully satisfied and never hungry again. God promises repayment for the years that the locusts have eaten and that we will know that “I am the Lord your God and there is no other.” Then, included in our passage this week, at the end of the chapter, is the description of the day when God will pour out the Holy Spirit on all people. It’s the section we read and claim on the day of Pentecost, with the coming of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the Church. Ash Wednesday and Pentecost all in one chapter, and even echoes of Jesus’ words in the Gospel of John, when Jesus tells the woman at the well, “whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst,” and he says to the disciples, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Ash Wednesday and repentance, just like the “Lord, have mercy on me” prayer. The pouring out of the Holy Spirit on all people at Pentecost, and we’re celebrating their lives next Sunday on All Saints. And this promise of abundance and no more hunger, because a longed-for change is coming. Joel was written around the year 400 BC, while God’s people were in exile. They’re looking for the end. They’re looking for the promised land. And God promises that God will do it. You see, the people cannot bring it about. We cannot save ourselves. We cannot get ourselves out of exile on our own strength. But God can do it and will do it. What is our God calling us out of exile to do and be in a new promised land? (Because remember, we can’t go back. We covered that two weeks ago.) Moving forward, I believe God is calling us to strengthen families. Please join me in praying discernment both to affirm and then how to go about it. 

          So, finally, in view of the coming All Saints Sunday, remember Hebrews 11. It’s the role call of faith when all kinds of faithful saints are commended for their faith: Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, Rahab, and the list goes on. Yet, that chapter also says, “All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth… These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.”

I was reminded this past week that what we do is so counter-cultural, and the saints who have gone before us knew it, and lived it. Life as a saint is counter-cultural because we give shelter to strangers and food to the hungry and we don’t do it because it’s a good thing to do or to make ourselves look good! We do it because this guy, Jesus, tells us to. We do it because we believe that loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves are the two greatest things we can do. We come here every week to worship God and not ourselves, which is quite countercultural in this egocentric day and age. Worship is about God, not about us. Worship reorients us back to God, just like on Ash Wednesday. We pray for God’s Spirit to be poured out on us again, just like on Pentecost. And we live in a very countercultural way of believing in and trusting God’s abundance and salvation. We don’t hold on tightly to our things. Rather we know that everything we have has been entrusted to us by God and we will be held accountable for being good stewards of them. Be encouraged to finish the race. Stay faithful. Live a life worthy of the calling you received from God. Amen.

Being Gentle on Yourself: A Reflection

October 17, 2019

"You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."
from "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver, published in 1986

My husband and I had some miscommunication over what he meant when he said I'd been pushing myself hard (the opposite of being gentle on yourself). I thought he was referring to the past four months of working out and found myself wondering how supportive of it he really was. But no, he was only referring to the two fitness classes I took that each resulted in my being practically dead to the world for the next 48 hours and significantly fatigued for at least three days. Imagine. Using three days' worth of energy in one hour. Because I could get through the class ok, with modifications. But three days of recovery is excessive. It means that a one hour fitness class is not being gentle on myself. My 30 minute exercise videos, yes. I can still function and have normal days with them. I can't with that class.

It was frustrating hitting that wall, learning that boundary of my body that I didn't know was there. I'm in arguably the best shape of my life - muscle tone and definition, it's all there. And I can get through a class! And enjoyed it! But at a high price. Another betrayal of my body. Another boundary line in the exile country of rheumatoid arthritis.

My sermon on Sunday (Oct 15 - https://pastoraheather.blogspot.com/2019/10/no-going-back.html ) hit home for me, more than usual. There's no going back to life before RA, no matter how well I manage my symptoms, no matter how well I adapt to my limits, no matter how physically fit I am. There is only going forward. Settle down and build houses (Jeremiah 29:5). In the well-being of your place of exile, you will find your well-being (Jeremiah 29:7). Life is permanently changed. I knew this, I've known this for 13 years. I thought I could still do this one normal thing of an exercise class, with modifications. It turns out my exercising is far more irrevocably changed than I had realized.

A Minced Oath Is the Voice in Your Head

19^th Sunday after Pentecost

October 20, 2019

Jeremiah 31:27-34; 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5; Luke 18:1-8

            We usually remember Jeremiah’s call story for the first part.[1] That’s the exchange between the Lord and Jeremiah when God says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” And Jeremiah replies, “Who, me? I’m no good at public speaking. I’m too young. They won’t listen to me.” Then the Lord tells Jeremiah, “Do not say, ‘I’m too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you.” And we often stop the call story right there with the reassurance of “Go where I send you. Do not be afraid. I am always with you and will rescue you.” While that seems like a nice stopping point, the conversation doesn’t end there. Next, “the Lord reached out his hand and touched Jeremiah’s mouth and said to him, ‘I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant.’”[2] Those six verbs, four destructive: uproot, tear down, destroy, and overthrow; and the two constructive verbs: build and plant; show up again in today’s Jeremiah reading. Now in chapter 31, the Lord declares, “Just as I watched over [my people] to uproot and tear down, and to overthrow, destroy and bring disaster, so I will watch over them to build and to plant.” God watched over his people while they uprooted, tore down, destroyed, and overthrew. Now it is time for God’s people to build and to plant. God watched over them through the bad times; now God is going to watch over them during the good times.

In addition to watching over his people while they build and plant, God is going to make a new covenant with them. The Lord declares, “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’ because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest.”[3] “In other words, this is to be a relationship guided by an internal voice,” not by external words and actions.[4] “God will relate to each person as an individual, not just to the community as a whole,” because each person will know God and have access to God. We don’t need to go through the priest as an intermediary. We will each have God’s laws written in our hearts and on our minds. That’s where the internal voice comes from.

So, how do you develop your internal voice? Where does it come from? Whose voice is it? Does it sound like your mom or your dad? Is it a voice of criticism or one of encouragement? Maybe it’s a character like Jiminy Cricket who serves as Pinocchio’s conscience. 

You know what’s interesting about that is the origin of the phrase “jiminy cricket.” Anyone ever heard someone say it? You have if you’ve ever watched Disney’s “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.” One of the dwarves says it. Jiminy Cricket is a minced oath for Jesus Christ. You know, like when you stay gosh or darn instead of something stronger? That’s called a minced oath. The minced version of taking Jesus’ name in vain is jiminy cricket. It’s not one you hear anymore, perhaps because Disney took it and made it into a cartoon character, but isn’t that interesting to think about Jiminy Cricket, Pinocchio’s conscience, as another name for Jesus Christ? It’s interesting because your internal voice should sound like Jesus. That’s what it means to have God’s laws written on your heart and mind. And the answer for how you develop your internal voice is found in our other Scripture readings this morning.

In his second letter to Timothy, Paul wrote that “Every scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for showing mistakes, for correcting, and for training character, so that everyone who belongs to God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.”[5] In other words, Scripture is inspired by God and it’s helpful. These stories didn’t get written down just for the sake of writing them down or to make money publishing books. Scripture is helpful and effective at helping you grow in your faith and grow closer to God, and you shouldn’t let others read it for you. You need to read it for yourself, whether it’s a physical book on your lap or you download an app or you listen to it on audible. It’s important to spend time with Scripture not just on Sundays but every day, whether you following a reading program or you just pick a random passage. Read it and meditate on it; this is what our ancestors in the faith called lectio divina. Holy reading. You read the words, or listen to them, and you let the holy words of Scripture read you and influence you and affect you, not just cognitively but in your heart. That’s how God’s words get written on your heart. That’s how you develop your internal voice. And, in turn, this develops character, just as Paul said. Because it’s not the ethics case study of what are you going to do in a crisis; instead you are already formed as part of God’s people, you already know God’s Word, and in any scenario, you’re going to love your neighbor as yourself. Jesus said that was the second greatest commandment, after the first one, which is to love God. One way you love God is by reading scripture and letting those words be written on your heart and mind.

And maybe you’re not a reader and audible books put you to sleep, well, how about music? Many folks over the history of the Church have put Scripture to music. Another way to learn God’s Word and develop that internal voice is by learning and knowing the music that is inspired by Scripture. A lot of it is found in that red book (hymnal) next to your bible in your pew. At the bottom of many hymns, along with the author and composer’s names, is the scripture that inspired the author to write that song. For example, our last hymn today, “Here I Am, Lord,” was inspired by Isaiah 6:8, the part of Isaiah’s call story where Isaiah heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And Isaiah said, “Here am I. Send me!” These hymn writers were inspired by God, some by how they saw God moving their life circumstances, some directly by Scripture. Our choir accompanist likes to say that there is a song for every mood, and there is, because there is Scripture for every mood. “There is nothing new under the sun,” as it says in Ecclesiastes 1:9, and if you look, you will find the word that you need to hear. Jesus says, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”[6] Seek and you will find, but you’re not going to find if you don’t go looking. So read your Bible and your hymnal. If you don’t have one, we have extras here J Scripture will help form your internal voice in a healthy, life-giving way.

Our Gospel story this morning talked about persistence. Sometimes you have to keep looking and keep praying and not give up, even when it feels like it’s not making a difference. I mentioned last week that health and wellness take time and work. You can’t snap your fingers and you’ve got your Jiminy Cricket. I love the verse before Jesus told the story of the unjust judge and the persistent widow. Luke wrote that “Jesus told his disciples this parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.” Pray always and do not lose heart. Don’t become discouraged. After all, this widow had to keep coming to the judge, keeping her case ever before him, keep asking, demanding for justice. And for a time the judge refused. He didn’t care about God or the people. But eventually, the widow wore him down. The corrupt judge finally gave in, because she had pestered him to death. He said, “Even though I don't fear God or respect people, yet because of all the trouble this widow is giving me, I will see to it that she gets her rights. If I don't, she will keep on coming and finally wear me out!” And Jesus says, “So what makes you think God won’t provide justice to his people who cry out to him day and night? Will he be slow to help them? I tell you, he will give them justice quickly. But how much of that kind of persistent faith will the Son of Man find on the earth when he returns?” How persistent are you in your faith? If you don’t find a good Scripture the first time you go looking, do you close the book and stop looking? If you don’t hear a good song on the radio when you turn it on, do you turn off the radio? No, either you change the station or you wait out the bad song to see what comes on next! Don’t give up! In fact, I’m going to challenge you. From now until the end of the year, that’s 71 days, read your bible every day. I don’t care whether you sit down for an hour or you sign up for an email list that will send you a verse a day. Read at least one verse every day. This may already be your habit, in which case, great! You’re well on your way to developing your internal voice. If it’s not your custom, it’s time to start. See what you can do, whether it’s in the car or you set your alarm 5 minutes earlier or go to bed 5 minutes later. Every day. And ask me how I’m doing, too. I use a morning devotional, but probably only read it about 90% of the time. Hold me accountable as well, and let’s see if together we can’t get to 100%.

Finally, and you may have already figured this out, you don’t have to do it on your own on Sundays. On Sundays we come together to read Scripture, and sing, and pray. The morning bible study is reading a classic book on Christian community, “Life Together” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The first chapter was on community and the importance of the physical presence of other Christians. Last week’s chapter was on “The Day with Others,” and talking about worship. For Christians the day begins with dawn, when Christ rose in victory over the grave. So, therefore, the “morning does not belong to the individual, it belongs to the Church of the triune God, to the Christian family.”[7] We’ve already covered Scripture, so let me touch briefly on singing and prayer. First, when we sing together, “it is the voice of the Church that is heard in [our] singing together. It is not you, [individually], that sings, it is the Church that is singing, and you, as a member of the Church, may share in its song.”[8] This is something to remember. We’re singing for Jesus, not for each other. It does not matter how “good” your voice is or how well you know the song. The Church is singing, and you are invited to join in. And the same thing goes for prayer. First, during prayer, anyone’s prayer, do not be afraid to pray, do not be timid about having the right words, and do not be critical of another’s prayer.[9] Whenever a prayer is offered in the name of Jesus, Jesus receives it in the spirit it’s offered, regardless of stammering or word choice or eloquence. We are to receive and listen to and offer prayers in the same way and to do it regardless of our mood at the time.[10] I know there are times I’m a more eloquent pray-er than at other times. The point is you do it, anyway. This is part of being the Church together, of helping each other develop their internal voice, of reminding each other that God’s words are written in our hearts and on our minds. Who knows? Maybe the voice in your head does sound like Jiminy Cricket. Keep going. Be encouraged. We’re all in this together and we’re here for each other.

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[1] Jeremiah 1:4-8

[2] Jeremiah 1:9-10

[3] Jeremiah 31:33-34

[4] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3023

[5] 2 Timothy 3:16

[6] Matthew 7:7-8

[7] Page 41

[8] Page 61

[9] Page 62

[10] Page 64