Jesus Offers Us a Yoke That Fits

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
July 6, 2008

Read: Matthew 11:16-19,25-30

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 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. -- Matthew 11:30

Comfortable words--these have been called comfortable words in the prayer book for centuries: words to encourage us. Too many compromises in your past? Too many bruises? Too many sorrows? Too much of what we now call "baggage"? Come anyway.
And Jesus said these words--what we call comfortable words-- after a particularly difficult experience. In today’s gospel story from Matthew, Jesus had just finished a preaching mission to several Galilean cities, where his welcome had been less than warm. The people in those cities were smart and capable. In spite of Roman occupation, both their local economies and their religious institutions were still working. They were not looking for help from Jesus or anyone else, and whatever gifts he had hoped to give to them, they declined to take.

This Galilean mission was a failure, in other words, and in the passage today we hear Jesus’ response to that failure. After heaping some powerful reproaches on those who did not welcome him, he thanks God for showing things to simple people that wise and understanding people cannot see. At least one reason why this is God’s will, apparently, is so that no one gets human wisdom and understanding confused with divine revelation. Those who know God do not arrive at such knowledge by their own natural intelligence or capable efforts. They know God because God has chosen to be known.

Next, Jesus offers to lighten the load of all who are carrying heavy burdens, some of which have presumably been laid on the shoulders of the simple people by the wise and understanding ones.

“Yoke” is a word used metaphorically to describe those things that control the lives of people. What controls your life? On this weekend of our Independence Day Holiday it is good to remember that the words at the base of the Statue of Liberty are from a poem by Emma Lazarus entitled “The New Colossus” . It echos Jesus’ comfortable words.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch whose flame
Is imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips.
"Give me your tired your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Jesus says his yoke is easy and his burden is light. Human beings have a perverse way of turning Jesus’ easy yoke back into a hard one again, by driving ourselves to do more and whipping ourselves to be more when all God has ever asked is that we belong to Him. That comes first; everything else follows that, but we so often get the order reversed. We think there are all kinds of requirements that must be met first, all kinds of rules to follow, all kinds of burdens to bear, so that we are not yet free to belong to God. We are still loaded down, not only by our jobs and our families and all our other responsibilities but by something deeper down in us, something that keeps telling us we must do more, be better, try harder, prove ourselves worthy or we will never earn God’s love. It is the most tiring work in the world, and it is never done.

There are two basic kinds of yokes that can be used to bear burdens: single ones and shared ones. The single ones are very efficient. By placing a yoke across the shoulders and fitting buckets hung from poles on each side, human beings can carry almost as much as a donkey. They will tire easily and have to sit down to rest, and their shoulders will ache all the time—their backs may even give out—but still it is possible to move great loads from one place to another using a single creature under a single yoke.

A shared yoke works quite differently. It requires twice as many creatures for one thing, but if they are a well-matched pair they can work all day, because under a shared yoke one can rest a little while the other pulls. They can take turns bearing the brunt of the load; they can cover for each other without ever laying their burden down because their yoke is a shared one. They have company all day long, and when the day is done both may be tired but neither is exhausted, because they are a team.

Plenty of us labor under the illusion that our yokes are single ones, that we have to go it alone, that the only way to please God is to load ourselves down with heavy requirements—good deeds, pure thoughts, blameless lives, perfect obedience—all those rules we make and break and make and break, while all the time Jesus is standing right there in front of us, half of a shared yoke across his shoulders, the other half wide open and waiting for us, a yoke that requires no more than that we step into it and become part of the team.

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” No wonder these words have weathered the centuries so well, no wonder they are still music to our ears.

Little Alex was out helping his Dad with the yard work. Dad asked Alex to pick up rocks in a certain area of the yard. Dad looked up from his own labors once, and saw Alex struggling to pull up a huge rock buried in the dirt. The boy kept struggling, and Dad kept watching. Finally, Alex gave up. “I can’t do it!” he whined. Dad asked, “Did you use all of your strength?” Alex looked hurt, and replied, “Yes, Dad, I used every ounce of my strength.” Dad smiled, and said, “No you didn’t. You didn’t ask me to help.” And, together, Dad and Alex easily pulled that big rock out of the dirt.

When Jesus offers us a yoke, he’s offering us his strength. Unlike all those other things to which we might be yoked, Jesus doesn’t expect us to get through with our strength alone! Remember: a yoke, at least in Jesus’ day, was made for two—for you and the Lord. With Jesus walking beside us, our strength will be just phenomenal! That’s when the burden will be “easy” and “light”. Jesus, after all, is strong enough to conquer sin and death—so, certainly, he is strong enough to ease our burdens—those burdens that seem impossible to bear.

Jesus offers us a yoke that fits. Amen.

God Hears the Cry No One Else Does

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
June 22, 2008

Read: Genesis 21:8-21

Do the promises of God to Sarah and Abraham mean that others can legitimately be cast aside? If one person receives the blessing of God, does that mean that another person is deprived of God's blessing? Does my being blessed by God mean that I can claim a special status for myself? What rights and responsibilities accompany the blessings of God? These are a few of the questions raised by this unsettling story from the first book of the Bible, Genesis.

You know this story. Abraham and Sarah were unable to conceive a child for years and years and years. Sarah gave up on God’s promise that they would have many descendants. She asked her husband, Abraham, to be with Hagar, their servant, so that he might have a male child to inherit and take care of them in their old age. Hagar did indeed get pregnant and bear a child, named Ishmael. However, it was difficult for Sarah to come to terms with her decision. She became jealous of Hagar. And when Sarah bore their miracle child, Isaac; her jealousy and fear that her husband’s first-born would take something away from her and her son, drove her to do something ugly. She wanted Hagar and Ishmael cast out. Sarah is human, with human shortcomings. She could not fathom the abundance of God’s love. She limited God by not seeing that God could fulfill His promises. She was afraid. And she did something ugly.

Can you feel Hagar’s pain and confusion? She had done nothing wrong, really. And when Hagar was cast out into the desert, her desert was a literal one. Today, ours are often deserts of the mind or heart. Leaving a job after learning the real reason it had become intolerable….Why had my name been used in a lie? What possible motivation could other professionals have had to stoop so low? One had once been betrayed by male ministers. Was she, like Sarah perhaps, just passing it on?

Sometimes our only choice is to sit in the desert and wait for God. Hagar’s story is for those desert times in our lives. They are the times when we have been enslaved or betrayed, when we feel expendable because the power structures of our lives seem oblivious to our gifts. Most of all, Hagar’s story is for the times when we have been rejected or abandoned and need more than anything to hear God’s voice. Because in those times God’s presence is required to open our eyes, so that we can see the well that contains that water of consolation, mercy and assurance. (Mary Zimmer, from “Hagar: God’s Comfort and Protection,” in Sister Images: Guided Meditations on the Stories of Biblical Women)

Today’s Forward Day by Day meditation reads: “Cast out, hopeless, cut off without a future, without a way to live, scorned, left waterless in a desert where her little boy Ishmael way dying, Hagar wept. Sometimes tears are the only prayer that speaks the truth: the truth of desolation. No bargaining here, no begging, no offerings: just a cry from someone who has nothing left but tears.

God heard Hagar’s cry. All though the Bible, God hears the cry no one else does. Long years later, God would hear the cry of enslaved Hebrews, and bring them out of Egypt with a mighty arm. Hagar would never belong to Israel. Yet God gave her a future, a family, a promise, and—immediately—the water of life.

When people are pushed out of the greater story the world reads and must live their life as they can in the margins, there is One who hears their cry. When you are desolate, whether in silence, in words or in tears, cry out to the One who saves!”

Now, this doesn’t mean everything is alright. Hagar is still hurt, she must still find food and shelter and raise a young boy by herself. It’s not like she won the lottery and has no more cares in the world. Nothing about the situation has changed all that much, except that God has shown care for her when no one else would. But sometimes, that makes all the difference. Hagar learned that precious few situations are genuinely hopeless, even when things seem at their worst.

Ishmael means God hears. God hears our cries when no one else does. God knows and loves us individually. The hairs on our head are counted. Let us listen with fresh ears to Hagar. Perhaps we will be the one God sends out to the desert with the cup of cold water. Amen.

Come To Me, and I Will Give You Rest

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
June 15, 2008

Read: Genesis 18:1-15;21:1-7 and Matthew 9:35-10:23

This morning Jesus tells the disciples to go to the lost sheep...the harassed and helpless ones...the ones without a shepherd, and give them good news. It starts with compassion – feeling another’s pain - and responding with hope. It’s the essence of doing ministry.

But doing ministry the way Jesus tells us to do ministry is dangerous, because these “lost sheep” are the dangerous ones who expose the evil of the world we have created. The harassed and helpless ones remind us how cruel people can be to one another. Their hurt reveals the consequences of injustice. Indeed, it would be better if these “lost sheep” disappeared. Then, we “found sheep” could go on living in the deceptive comfort of our illusions.

But Jesus says, go to them. Go to them and confront their pain with them. Tell their illnesses and diseases, “You have NO power!” Tell the unclean spirits that torment their minds and distort their self-image, ”You have NO power!” Tell the religious elite and scripture shouters who are quick to judge and slow to serve, “You have NO
power!” Tell the politicians who court the votes and resources of the rich and ignore the poverty and desolation of the poor, “You have NO power!” Tell the presidents and kings of this world who are obsessed with making war at the expense of those with no voice, “You have NO power!” Tell those who secretly laugh and scoff when humanity cries out for peace, “You have NO power!” Tell those who preach a message of fear and hate, “You have NO power!”

Going to the “lost sheep” is dangerous. Preaching good news to these dangerous ones is dangerous. Acknowledging these powerless ones is dangerous. Jesus said so. He warned his disciples, and he warns us, too. (Based on the words of Glenn S, Desperate Preacher site)

As my friend, Barbara says, “What keeps nagging at me, though, is the way he sent them out—no money, no shoes, not even a walking stick. Why send them out with so much power and so few accessories? Wouldn’t they have had more impact if they had arrived in style, in a stretch limo or a long, sleek bus with something catchy painted on the side, accompanied by their own driver, caterer and publicist? That would have had some authority to it, some prestige appropriate to their task…but apparently that is not what Jesus wanted for them. Because the way Jesus set it up, they could not provide for others out of their own abundance, they could only provide for them out of their need.

There they were, vested with the authority to heal the sick and raise the dead, going barefoot from house to house, saying, “Excuse me, but may we stay with you? We can’t pay you anything, I’m afraid, and we don’t have anything to barter, but perhaps you could see your way clear to giving us a bowl of soup and a slice of bread?” There is tremendous paradox here. Are they beggars or miracle workers? And if they are miracle workers, then why must they depend on the kindness of strangers for a cup of water or a corner in which to sleep? (Barbara Brown Taylor – Bread of Angels)

There is a Buddhist custom that seems to have something to do with this story, this piece of scripture. As shared by someone who visited Cambodia, all seekers of the truth there spend at least a year of their lives as beggars. They go from village to village wearing nothing but a saffron robe and owning nothing but a begging bowl, asking perfect strangers to supply their most basic needs. After that year is over, they are free to return to their former ways of life, but none of them returns the same person.

What it must be like to own nothing, to have nothing but your own need, and to understand that the only thing you have to offer anyone else is what you yourself have been given? That whatever they give to you comes from what has been given to them? What must it be like not only to talk dependence on God but to live it everyday for a year, understanding that reliance on God equals reliance on the hospitality of others? In this dangerous world. That kind of knowledge could change a person for good.

After a year like that, you could hardly take your turn at a soup kitchen and hold yourself apart from the person on the other side of the counter. When you looked at her you would see yourself, or you would see God, but either way whatever you offered her would be offered not out of your abundance but out of your need. It would be offered out of your need to be related to her, your need to know about her life and to let her know about yours, your need to give her a portion of what has been given to you and to receive whatever she has to give you in return without thinking that makes you a hero.

It is simply what you do, when you know who you are and who you are working for, when you are sent out to proclaim the kingdom and to act it out with no money, no shoes, not even a walking stick. Because when it comes down to being a provider of God’s love, there is really only one provider, who sends us out with nothing at all and with everything that we need: healing, forgiveness, restoration, resurrection. (Barbara Brown Taylor – Bread of Angels) That is all we really have to share with others.

But when we are out in the field of harvest, which is our every-day life--Jesus says to us: "go and be healers--all of you!" The Spirit of God will empower you as you need it.

A neighbor may share with you: "I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t even want to live another day . . . my ex-husband is suing me for custody, I am three months behind with my bills, my kids cry themselves to sleep every night. . ."

And you may sit down with your neighbor and the Holy Spirit will guide your thoughts, and you will hear incredible words come out of your mouth--words of life, of hope, of encouragement. And as you touch this woman and pray for her, tears may run down her cheek and next she is thanking you for the words of life you have shared with her. And you’ll think: "this wasn’t me talking. This was God talking through me!"

Jesus says to his disciples: "you don’t need schooling, you don’t need a special gift, you don’t need to wait until you’re worthy, until you are perfected in this life. I am giving you a license --a license to heal! Go to my lost sheep and heal them. Give freely as you have received freely. And I will be with you every step on the way. Trust me . . . just go--you’ll see."

And the disciples came back and reported to Jesus: "wow!! God healed the people we prayed over ...and even demons were under our authority. And Jesus probably thought: "I told you, didn’t I?"

And Jesus says to you and me: "I give you a license to heal . . .freely you have received, freely give. Go to my lost sheep . . . and heal them. And I will be with you every step of the way. Trust me . . . just go--you’ll see."

Dennis Folds tells the story of a damaged Jesus in London. The city had been devastated by the bombings during World War II. The bombs that dropped on the city struck and destroyed buildings of every kind: office buildings, factories, apartments, homes, museums, government buildings, churches.

Soon after World War II, a group of German students, through kindness and love and a deep desire to return Christian love to those who had lost so much, volunteered to go to London to help rebuild an English cathedral that had been severely damaged by German bombs.

As work progressed, they became greatly concerned about a large statue of Jesus Christ, whose arms were outstretched and beneath which was the written inscription from Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

The student volunteer workers had great difficulty trying to restore the hands, which had been completely destroyed. They worked and worked and tried and tried, but nothing seemed to successfully replace Jesus’ outstretched hands.

Finally, after much work and much discussion, they decided to let the hands of Jesus remain missing and they changed the written inscription to read this way: “Christ has no hands but ours.”

This morning, God is calling us to have an active faith. God is calling us to refocus--away from the causes of our problems or illnesses and focus on our healing. Whether you need emotional healing, healing in your relationships, or a physical healing, God is encouraging us to look for healing, to walk toward healing, to expect God to come through in some way to heal us and /or help us cope. We as Christians have every reason to look to our future with confidence and courage. For our Healer, Jesus Christ, is active in our lives always, no matter where our journey takes us. Amen.

Why Doesn't The Rainbow Come Full Circle?

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
June 1, 2008

Read: Genesis 6:9-22;7:24;8:14-19, Matthew 7:21-29

Noah and his family stepped out from the ark into the first sunshine they had seen in [many, many] days and stood upon land. When they saw the clean new Earth, Noah and his family wept for joy. God wept with them. God spoke to Noah and his family, saying: “I am your God who brought you forth into this new land. Look around you and see the cleansed Earth. Listen and hear the sounds of animals and see the wind moving through the trees. The world is once again new. I know the world cannot always be this way: it does not seem to be human nature to always be good. But you and the generations to come after you can try.” Noah was willing to do whatever God asked of him.

God continued, “I will make a covenant with you., the first of the world's new people. I will give you a sign that I am with you, one that will remind you that the world was created in peace and then re-created in peace, to remain so for all time. The sign will be a bow, that fills the heavens, an arc of light. But this will be a new light, one that shines through the waters of a flood or a rain of tears. This light will show all the colors of beauty that can fill your lives as you live in peace.”

Then God bent toward the Earth with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm and made an arc across the sky. And just where the hand of God had been, there was a sheltering band of every color spread out across the clear blue sky.

First, red for the blood that gives people life.

Then orange, for the flames of warmth that bring comfort, and for the fire of the soul.

Yellow, for the sun which helps all things grow, in the full light of day.
Green, for grass and trees, and the plant's new life.

Blue, for the sky and the sea, connecting heaven and earth.

Indigo, for the dawn and the dusk, at the beginning of the day and of the night.

And violet, for the deep night, when the world rests and renews itself.

Noah and his family gazed at the beautiful arc of light, watching the rainbow flow from one end to the other. They saw it touching near and far, bridging sky and ground.

And then Japheth, Noah's youngest son, asked his father, “We came full circle in our journey on the ark, from dry land to water and once again to dry land. Why doesn't the rainbow come full circle?”

Noah puzzled over his son's question. He looked up to study the arc of colors in the sky. Then he answered: “Perhaps the rainbow is a sign. Not all things are yet full circles. God has begun the work by making the arc in the heavens. Making the arc come full circle here on earth will be our work.” And so it remains. (A midrash by Cherie Karo Schwartz, from Reading Between the Lines: New Stories from the Bible, edited by David Katz and Peter Lovenheim).

So, how do we make the arc come full circle here on earth? How do we fulfill our covenant? How do we fulfill our purpose in life? What is our purpose in life? Who am I?

There is a pivotal scene in the film Lawrence of Arabia that occurs when Lawrence crawls out of the desert (the one they said could not be crossed). Standing along the Suez Canal, he is spotted by a lone motorcyclist who, seeing this figure encrusted in sand, calls out, "Who are you?" This is, of course, the question: Who is Lawrence of Arabia?

His story is one of many examples that demonstrates our fascination with this question "Who are you?" The lives of the rich and famous, fictional characters such as Harry Potter, and even our own selves all fall under its scrutiny. It is, in many respects, the question that the Gospel story for the day poses to us as well.

It is Jesus' words, interpreting the word of God as expressed in Torah (the first five books of Hebrew scripture, the Old Testament), that form the foundation on which the house is to be built. To say, perhaps the obvious, the foundation is not us. But, in a culture that prizes self-sufficiency, this is counterintuitive. In our world, it all depends on us; in the realm of God, it depends on the word of God that called us into being.

This brings us back to the question: "Who are you?" How we answer this question will also answer another important question: What is it that sustains us, that anchors us in a storm? And will we simply rest on this foundation, or, living out the word of God in action, will we build a life that does not crumble, but, like a house, is able to offer shelter and hospitality to others? Will we help bring the arc full circle here on earth?

There's a HUGE difference between being religious and being spiritual in how we go about building our lives. Knowing all the right buzz words and catch phrases does not a faithful follower make. Jesus describes the religious drum-beaters as saying, "Lord, Lord, don't we prophecy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?" Don't we do all the right things, say all the right words, Lord? Jesus' response is startling: "Yuck! You do all that really cool stuff, but there's only one thing missing... love. You use your religion to build up your own egos and conveniently label others as sinful and unworthy, all the while thinking that you are doing your Heavenly Father's will and doing me a favor. But I'm not interested in your pious activities. They reek of hypocrisy. I'm not impressed. Go away."

Wow. I guess Jesus is telling us it all starts with what's under the surface. If our belief system is not fundamentally grounded in love, even the most elaborate, ornate religious house won't withstand the storm.

The trouble with foundations is that nobody sees them. Trouble with roots is that nobody sees them. And in our "show time" society most people are not interested in foundations and roots. Most people want the skin deep, the show me foundationless.

Randy Quinn tells a story about someone who wanted to start his own house-moving business, but Mark’s business didn’t survive an early mishap.

It was his very first house and so he very carefully measured the house and poured a new foundation to match. He was careful to make the new foundation walls as thick as the old ones were. And he made sure they were level and smooth.

Then he jacked up the old house little by little before putting it on wheels and rolling it down the street to its new location. But as he lowered it onto the new foundation, one of the walls of the house fell and the house collapsed.

Mark learned a hard lesson that day. The old foundation was crooked and the house was suited for the old foundation, not for the new one.

Many people will acknowledge that the life of a Christian is to be built upon the foundation of Jesus Christ. But not everyone remembers that the house needs to match the foundation, too.

Jesus Christ is our solid foundation. Deepening our relationship with Christ is bringing the arc full circle. Amen

Worry is the Opposite of Faith

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
May 25, 2008

Read: Matthew 6:24-36, Psalm 131, Isaiah 49:8-16a

There is a game out there called the “Worst Case Scenario Game”. In this worst case scenario survival game players face interesting or dangerous situations. Can you fend off a shark? Clear a jammed copy machine? Survive a five-story fall into a dumpster? Land an airplane? It’s up to you to get out of your Worst-Case Scenario. Give your best answer and if you’re right you move on; if you’re not, your situation only gets worse. So, if you are one of the pessimists in life, you may just be a winner when you play this game. Pessimists are looking for the worst-case scenario in life and figuring out ways to save themselves from it.

I think Jesus is telling us in Matthew’s gospel that to worry, to have anxiety, to always be thinking about the worst case scenario is not the way to live our life. He’s not saying don’t plan, or don’t think carefully about your life, or your choices…He’s saying try not to focus on what might go wrong. Worrying doesn’t add “a single hour to your span of life." Worrying creates a barrier between us and our relationship with God.

Worry is on the opposite end of the spectrum from faith. As Ruth Graham Bell says, “I (have) learned that worship and worry cannot live in the same heart: they are mutually exclusive.” And Charles Spurgeon made this observation:

“Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its trials—it simply empties today of its joy. Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow—it empties today of its strength.”

Let me repeat that:

“Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its trials—it simply empties today of its joy. Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow—it empties today of its strength.”

I love it. Spurgeon acknowledges that life can be difficult, filled with trials. Trusting in God does not mean that the trials and sorrows will be avoided, it means that we trust in God to be with us, to be present in our trials and in our sorrows. A source of strength and comfort, through Jesus Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

The image in our psalm today is of God as a mother and the pilgrim as a “weaned child”. A weaned child is old enough to wander off on it’s own and to ask questions that are beyond answer. It can be frightening to be out in the wilderness on our own. In the arms of its mother, however, who has been the child’s source of nurture, comfort and sustenance, the child is calmed and quieted. This image echoes Isaiah 49:15 where the prophet declares that God is like a mother who does not fail to show compassion toward her child.

And our scripture reading from Isaiah ends with God telling us “See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.”

I find that very comforting. Inscribed on the palms of God’s hands. And if that is indeed true, then we can put God first in our life, we can lay down our anxieties, our worries about what might be. God has created us and loves us and will take care of us.

Louie Giglio is a pastor/evangelist who has spoken about the incredible nature of Laminin. His talk is popular on You Tube right now. Louie talks about how inconceivably big our God is..how he spoke the universe into being…how He breathes stars out of His mouth. Then he goes on to speak of how this star-breathing, universe-creating God also knitted our human bodies together with amazing detail and wonder. Those in the medical field can attest to this.

Louie goes on to talk about how we can trust that the God who created all this, also has the power to hold it all together when things seem to be falling apart. How our loving Creator is also our Sustainer through the rough times.

And then he talks about laminin. “Laminins are a family of proteins that are an integral part of the structural scaffolding of basement membranes in almost every animal tissue.” In other words, laminins are what hold us together…literally. They are cell adhesion molecules. They are what holds one cell of our bodies to the next cell. Without them, we would literally fall apart.

What is amazing is what laminin looks like. The structure of laminin is the same as the structure of a cross. So, the glue that holds us together, all of us…is in the shape of a cross. I have to admit that is pretty cool. Whether it is accident or coincidence, it is still powerful. Powerful, because it reminds us that God is indeed our Creator and source of life…it reminds us that we are inscribed on the palm of Gods hands. That we are held and comforted and nurtured and sustained by God, through Jesus Christ.

So, “do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

You are valuable and loved by God. Trust in that. God has already taken care of our worst case scenario.

Amen.

The Birthday of the Church

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
May 11, 2008 (Pentecost Sunday)

Read: Acts 2:1-21 and John 20:19-23

There is a lot of red in the church today. Red is the color we use to celebrate the Day of Pentecost. The day we were given the powerful gift of the Holy Spirit. The day the church was birthed, given new life…the birthday of the church. The day of wind and fire and languages that were different, yet the same. Each was speaking in their native language, and yet all could understand what was being said. There were accusations of drunken behavior….I suspect the crowd was in a state of joyful community. Barriers were broken down that day. Languages were different and yet the same. It was a unifying Spirit that crossed the artificial boundaries of language, race and culture. People could speak and be understood; strangers heard one another; communion happened. The Spirit breathes peace.

The film Chocolat, that we used in our Lenten series, tells the story of a gypsy woman and her daughter as they relocate to a very traditional and religious village in the French countryside. A hard, cold wind brings the pair to town, donned in bright red, hooded capes. They arrive in the middle of Lent and open a chocolaterie—shocking for certain, but not as shocking as their refusal to go to church.

But rather unexpectedly, their presence begins to transform the relationships and ideas of the village. Transforms in a very God-like way. It is amazing how relationships can be so transforming. I suspect we all have stories of people who show up in our lives, in a haphazard way, even irritating at first, only to stretch us and change us.

We are called, as baptized persons, to think in terms of “we” rather than “I”. Our culture has become one in which many of us are primarily concerned with our own needs and our own wants. Many advertisements deliver that message and appeal to that. Our consumer society has lost a lot of the concern for others that was present in decades past. But the biblical focus is on the community.

God’s answer to the human predicament was to create a new community, to start a family. We as individuals gain our identity by belonging to the community, and the community finds fulfillment in the growth and healing of the individual. Each nurtures the other. And the bread of life nurtures us all.

The story is told of a man who dropped out of church. He figured he could be just as faithful worshiping God on his own. A few weeks went by, and the minister came to visit. It was a cold and blustery day. They sat in the living room by the fireplace and made small talk. Then the minister took the fire tongs, picked up a glowing ember and placed it to one side of the hearth. The two men watched without saying a word. In no time, it began to cool. A few minutes later, he picked up the dead ember with his fingers and pitched it back into fire. Immediately, it sparked back to life. Without a word, the minister put on his coat and started to leave. The man looked at him and said, “That was one of your best sermons. I’ll see you in church this Sunday.”

To be in relationship with God is to be in relationship with every person who is also in relationship with God. This one-ness applies to the whole world and to the small piece of the world known as Trinity Church. What one of us does or does not do has its impact on the whole. What one of us received or does not receive has its impact on the whole. When one is forgiven the entire community is healthier in spirit. When we as a community forgive, each of us is freer.

Notice in our reading from John’s gospel that when Jesus comes through the door he shows them his wounds…his hands and his sides. Jesus reveals his wounded, but living self. He says Peace be with you. Jesus offers unconditional love…wounds and all.

Rubem Alves, a liberation theologian from Brazil, says that, “Hope is hearing the melody of the future. Faith is to dance to it.” “Hope”, he says, “is the pre-sentiment that the imagination is more real, and reality less real, than we had thought. It is the sensation that the last word does not belong to the brutality of facts with their oppression and repression. It is the suspicion that reality is far more complex than realism would have us believe, that the frontiers of the possible are not determined by the limits of the present, and that miraculously and surprisingly, life is readying the creative event that will open the way to freedom and resurrection.”

The Spirit calls us to imagine this world as it should be, to hear the melody of God’s future. And to dance to it.

But that can be intimidating, can’t it. What if we don’t hear the melody and don’t know the steps. And what if we begin to dance to the melody of the future and someone tells us that we’re doing it all wrong? What if we begin to dance to the melody of the future and someone laughs at us, calls us naïve, or drunk, or worse? What if we begin to dance to the melody of the future and we realize that we’re out there all alone? What if we begin to dance to the melody of the future and it sweeps us away, overcomes us, changes our lives and our outlook altogether?

The prophet Joel, as quoted by Peter today, talks about young men and old men, sons and daughters, slaves seeing visions and dreaming dreams. Notice that the listing is of those who live on the margins of life, not those to whom we would normally look for leadership, the middle-aged CEOs, but the young, the old, the sons, the daughters, the poor…

“It isn’t to the palace that the Christ Child comes, “ sings Bruce Cockburn, “but to shepherds and street people, hookers and bums.”

In the book, Animal Dreams, by Barbara Kingsolver, Codi, who has gone back to her hometown to face her past, corresponds with her sister Hallie, who has gone to teach agriculture to the peasants of Nicaragua during the time that the United States is sending millions of dollars to the Contras. Codi is proud of Hallie, but is scared for her, too, and in one of her letters she writes:

I feel small and ridiculous and hemmed in on every side by the need to be safe. All I want is to be like you, to be brave, to walk into a country of chickens and land mines and call that home, and have it be home. How can you just charge ahead, always doing the right thing, even if you have to do it alone with people staring? I would have so many doubts—what if you lose that war? What then? If I had an ounce of your bravery, I’d be set for life. You get up and look the world in the eye, shoo the livestock away from the windowsill, and decide what portion of the world needs to be saved today...

Hallie, in her return letter to Codi, writes this:

Codi, here’s what I’ve decided: the very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under it’s roof. What I want is so simple I almost can’t say it: elementary kindness. Enough to eat, enough to go around. The possibility that kids might one day grow up to be neither the destroyers nor the destroyed. That’s about it. Right now I’m living in that hope, running down its hallway and touching the walls on both sides.

The Spirit calls us to figure out what it is that we hope for, and then to live inside that hope, under its roof, to run up and down its halls touching its walls on both sides. The Spirit calls us to envision the future as it should be, and then to live as if that future is already here.

Come, Lord Jesus….come as the rushing of the wind, breathe the gift of new life, ignite the embers….in communion, through relationships, may we renew the face of the earth and dance to your melody of life. Amen.

Saying Goodbye

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
May 4, 2008 (Ascension Sunday)

Read: Acts 1:6-14 and John 17:1-11

Today in the Book of Acts, we hear of Jesus being lifted up into a cloud. Jesus’ Ascension. Can you imagine how the apostles felt, what they were thinking? As they stood there, staring into the sky in wonder and awe, at where they last saw their beloved Jesus, two men in white robes—angels—said, “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” What????

In 1986, the entire world gazed at the sky with wonder and awe. The space shuttle, “Challenger” was scheduled to blast off from its launching site in Cape Canaveral, Fla. As the countdown began, students in every classroom in the United States were tuned in to their local TV station. This was a truly historical event because for the first time, an ordinary person – a teacher, wife, and mother of two was going into space. The countdown completed, the space shuttle left its launching pad – and before we could count down from ten again, “poof” – the shuttle and everything in it – vanished into thin air. “Poof.” We were left to gaze at the sky with wonder and awe – and an air of deep sadness descended on the entire nation.

In the days and weeks that followed, we watched this tragedy unfold before us hundreds of times as news programs reported the latest concerning, “what went wrong with the Challenger.” Every time I watched it unfold before my eyes – I was hoping, praying, that this time it wouldn’t vanish. Every time this event was replayed on national Television – I would silently say to myself, along with the entire nation, I suspect, “stay with us.” Stay with us.

The disciples gazed at the sky with wonder and awe. And as Jesus ascended, what were they to say, except, “stay with us.” Jesus had come to them and turned their lives around. He had come and left and then come again. Jesus had turned the disciples’ lives upside down and inside out. In the Gospel accounts of the days following Jesus’ death, the disciples wander around in a cloud of confusion and loneliness. And when he finally appears to them again – they party on the beach, he breaks bread with them and teaches them concerning the fulfillment of scripture. Only a few days pass before he is engulfed in a cloud and carried away to the heavens. The disciples gaze up at the sky in wonder and awe as “poof” Jesus disappears in a cloud. They gaze up at the sky, wishing, it seems, that he would come back and stay with them. And then the men in white who are standing next to them say, in summary: “Don’t worry, you’ll see him again someday.” I suspect the disciples wanted Jesus here, now. Not in some distant far-off future. Not in some grandiose exhibition in which Jesus would descend from the heavens in glory and honor. I suspect that the disciples longed for Jesus to stay with them on that day. Stay with us. Stay with us now.

Jesus was present and now was absent. We’ve all been in that space…that space between presence and absence. We've all said good byes in our life and none of them were easy. We wonder where the years went. But there he is--a kid who one moment was fighting with his brother and the next going off to Penn State. Somewhere else two people come to say good bye. Their relationship just isn't going anywhere. They go out on some dates, but as the weeks are swallowed by seasons, they realize it's over. Time to say good bye. Not just farewell to the movies and lunches and shopping and games. But really good bye to a presence and a quality that will never completely be recovered. Saying good bye is hard.

Something deep down in us resists the move from presence to absence. When someone is present to us, our space is filled, we are not alone. There is conversation and communion. When someone leaves us, there is crisis. Absence means silence--lonely, gaping silence.

One thing is for sure--we had better get accustomed to bidding farewell. Life is a series of leave-takings, movement from presence to absence. Carly Simon sings, "Nobody ever stays in one place anymore..You say hello, but I say good-bye."

We honestly need God when it comes to hellos and good-byes. Our faith used to be embodied in words like the English, "good-bye, the Spanish "adios" the French "adieu." They all imply that when we part--in that moment between here and not here, between presence and absence, we'd best give someone to God when we can no longer hold them ourselves. Good-bye means God be with you.

So it is that we find a group of disciples this morning caught hearing a good-bye from the Leader who it seemed only months before had said hello. Jesus has finished his job and now returns to heaven. The story wasn't supposed to go like this. Everything within the disciples, everything they had been taught, had convinced them that Jesus was supposed to stay. The Messiah they knew was to reign on earth. Thy will be done on earth.

If the promise of the resurrection is forgiveness of sins, what then, is the promise of the Ascension? Hidden between the lines of repentance and forgiveness and the lifting up of Jesus into the clouds – is a promise so great, a promise so enduring, a promise so life-giving, that I wonder why we often miss it. The promise of the Ascension is that God is with us. We don’t need to beg God to stay with us. We don’t need to gaze at the sky in wonder and awe as we ask, “where is God?” God sends the Holy Spirit so that we might not be alone in our work on earth. God sends an advocate so that we might be empowered to spread the Gospel to all the ends of the earth. God sends a comforter who is with us in our despair, our loneliness, our hypocrisy and our fear.

Toward the end of his days on earth, Jesus instructed his followers to love one another, to rely on each other, to help, encourage, and empower each other. This is the essence our Lord's prayer for his disciples in John 17:26: "I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them." Jesus was to live on within the community of his followers through God's Spirit--the Spirit of God's Agape Love.

So Jesus' good-bye really turned out to be God's big hello! The real story goes like this: God never left. Never moved. Never said farewell. God simply made an equal exchange. A shift in the plan. For tucked right smack in the middle of our lesson from Acts are these words: “...when the Holy Spirit comes upon you,
you will be filled with power, and you will be witnesses for me in Jerusalem and in all of Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth,"

So far from saying goodbye, God is saying hello in a big way. God is no longer contained to a single person in a single location on planet earth. By coming into our very lives, God now wants to work through us, giving us the power to live out our faith, to share the Good News, and to grow in our relationships.
And, because God says hello with the giving of the Spirit, it means that we can say goodbye. We can say goodbye to our attempts to cling to the past, to cling to people, to structures, to old ways of thinking and doing, and even to our comfort zones.

We can follow God's Spirit as the Spirit moves among us to give us greater mission, clearer vision, and the power to do what we've never done before. As we follow the lead of God's Spirit we may also have to risk walking down new paths at times.
But the bottom line is that far from a goodbye, God has granted us the Spirit of Jesus and that means that we are filled with power to follow in our Lord's footsteps--to be in joyful mission to a hurting world. In the midst of our current crises and periods of transition, let us on this day embrace and celebrate God's big hello, the giving of God's Comforter and Encourager. For we are the people of God, empowered by the Spirit of Jesus. Amen.