A Preacher in Her Hometown

They say a prophet is never well-received in her hometown. Well, personally, I had an amazing experience this past weekend preaching in Grand Forks. So, maybe I'm not much of a prophet after all! 


This past Sunday, the young adults at Calvary Lutheran Church in Grand Forks put together a wonderful justice-focused action event called "Do Something Now." Over $3,000 was raised to help do something about global causes like building wells for families in the world who have no access to clean water, weekend meals for students in need in Grand Forks, and de-parasiting & fluoride treatments for people in Honduras. 


It was my honor to preach about justice this Sunday in coordination with the appeal to Do Something Now. It was my hope to highlight the ways in which God's justice is different than our sense of what is fair. Thanks to a special request from my cousin Ashley, I've posted the text of my sermon below.


Enjoy!
TSP

It's not fair!

How many of us remember saying this phrase as kids?  How many of the kids here have said this already today?  How many of us have suppressed the urge to shout this lately even though we are supposed to be more grown up than that?

Well, the world's not fair.

Lovely.  I can't wait to have kids so that I can tell them this.  It's like hazing.  We all experience injustice in our lives and want to scream about it, but when we grow up, we learn to deal with it.  And when we have kids, we get to pass on this agonizing yet true sentiment.  The world's not fair.

All of us are born with some sort of instinctual sense of what's fair and what is not fair.  We want the same portion of the pizza as our brothers and sisters.  We want an equal slice of everyone's attention as others receive.  We want to be paid a wage that's fair according to our experience and qualifications and time put in on the job, not a salary that is different because of our gender or race or age.  And we all want to get what we deserve when it comes to our merit…if we wrote a better paper we should get a better grade, if we are more competent at our jobs we should get a raise or a promotion or at least be safe from being laid off, if we helped to bake the cookies, we should get the first warm one when they come out of the oven.

It's not fair!

Our keen sense of what's fair can be a positive thing for the world.  Our childhood whining can grow into a mature sense of justice on behalf of those who are being treated unfairly.  It may lead us to see with the eyes of justice as the young adults who have organized the Do Something Now event taking place this morning have seen. 

With such eyes we can see that it's not fair that Children in Uganda, orphaned by HIV, have nowhere to sleep.  We can see that it's not fair that one in eight human beings in the world don’t have access to clean drinking water.  We can see that it’s not fair that some who attend that hunger meal today will be served a half a slice of bread while others will eat all they’d like until they’re full.  And we can see that it’s not fair that hunger statistics in the world mirror this great difference between plenty and not enough.

The problem is that, more often than not, our idea of "justice" becomes about, as Pastor Roger mentioned last week: just us.  We worry most of all that things are not fair for me.  We see most clearly when I am not being treated fairly.  And when someone gets, not what they deserve, but much more than they deserved, we find ourselves exclaiming, "It's not fair!"

The workers who worked all day, in the blazing sun, were certainly whining in these or very similar words.  "It's not fair!  We worked all day, we got more done, we were here from the start, we endured the heat, we are exhausted.  They hardly worked at all, they just got here, they didn't contribute as much, they didn't suffer as much, they certainly don't deserve as much as us."

It wasn't the workers' understanding of fair that was off.  It was their understanding of the one who was in charge.  The owner even agrees with them to some extent, "Sure what I'm doing isn't fair; it's more than fair.  It's generous.  Is it not my prerogative to be generous?  Have I not still treated you fairly?  I paid you what we agreed, and what I pay these others is really none of your business."

The vineyard owner gave out of his own generosity, not paying on the basis of what any of the workers deserved.

It's not fair.

It's not fair indeed, it's grace.

Through this story and beyond it in our lives, we get to know our God who gives based on God's merit, not on ours

This means that what we think is fair is not always what God thinks is fair

The laborers in the vineyard, the older son in the parable of the Prodigal, the grace given just the same to those who were baptized and will never show up to teach Confirmation or lead on Church Council, or give an offering to support the ministry of the Church

We tend to think that justice is getting what we deserve

But God's justice doesn't fit our worldly understanding of what is fair.

God blurs the lines between justice-getting what we deserve, mercy-not getting what we deserve, and grace-getting much more than we deserve.

This is Good News for us…

This is always Good News for us

For as redeemed sinners, we continue to be sinners still, and we need the kind of justice of our God who is a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love

There's only one problem, this justice, full of mercy and grace is not about just us

It's hard for us to swallow God's unreasonable mercy shown to others

Jonah found out how hard it can be to understand the way God shows mercy and justice.

He had been sent out from his homeland to the city of Nineveh to proclaim the coming wrath for this sinful city.  And they were the worst.  In fact, so bad that Jonah tried his darnedest to get out of the job.  You probably know how the story goes…Jonah runs from God, by way of ship, a terrible storm comes up and the sailors demand to know who has upset God and caused such a storm.  Jonah confesses and volunteers himself to be thrown overboard.  He should have drowned, but instead God sends a giant fish to save him of all things.  Within the belly of the fish, Jonah waited three days, praying to God for salvation.  Finally, the fish coughs Jonah up on the shore, and God sends him in the original direction again, to Nineveh.  Jonah proclaims, half-heartedly I’d imagine, God’s coming wrath to these his enemies.  And something miraculous happens, those nasty sinners turn from their ways, they repent and fast and wear sackcloth…everyone, down to the last cow in town.

Now we find Jonah, who ought to be elated as the only prophet who ever really succeeded in getting anyone to repent.  But instead he’s upset, and rather dramatic.  And he cries out to God, in what I imagine to be a very whiney voice…

" O Lord! Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.”

He knew it.  He expected it.  He tried to escape it.

But Jonah had been sent to be a prophet, to warn of God's coming wrath, when all along he knew that wrath might well turn to mercy

And in the end he basically says he'd rather die than have God be merciful to them

Jonah had to face the reality that God loved those who were his enemy

Those who even threatened his life and the life of all of Israel as Nineveh was the capital of the Assyrian empire that would one day crush his people and send them into captivity

Still, God loved them

He showed them mercy

He gave them the same favor thought to be reserved for those who lived "good" lives, those who did the right thing, those who go to church each week, those who had "earned" their share of God's mercy and grace

It's not fair!

Perhaps God is modeling for us in the story of Jonah a higher good than fairness, an ethic of mercy, a philosophy of grace, a call to live a life that bursts forth with radical justice, full of the abundant love of God.  And in the story of the workers in the vineyard, Christ breaks our “just us” measuring sticks for fairness and lays out instead a pattern of generosity that goes beyond our judgment of what we or others deserve. 

Christ pours out for each of us much more than we deserve, grace upon grace.  And as much as we tend to think that we’ve earned it somehow, the truth is that God has done for us what only God could do.  God has given out of God’s generosity, not our merit.  In Jesus we have been freed from the grip that sin and death had on our lives. And this freedom, this grace, isn’t just for those who get it right all of the time, or even most of the time.  It’s for those who are sinful, those who mess things up, those who get it wrong over and over again.  That is to say that it’s for all of us.  We may wish that God were more fair, that our actions would count for something with God, but what a mess we’d be in if this were the case.  We’re all lucky that God doesn’t judge fair the way that we do—or we’d all be surprised to find out what we really deserve. Instead here we are, the undeserving recipients of mercy and grace.

Of course Jesus is the only one who can really deal out this kind of true justice, leveling the playing field in which all of us find ourselves living and working and making us equals in every way.  Christ’s work of justice and salvation is making all things new.  In the meantime, since the world is not fair, we are called as Children of the Kingdom to see matters through the eyes of Christ.  We are called, as those who have much, to ac, to strive for true justice on behalf of those who are marginalized.  We are called, as those who have access to the rule makers and the resources, to speak for those whose voice has no power in our world.

It’s not fair.

The world as we know it is not fair.  And the good news is that Christ’s Kingdom isn’t fair either.  It’s more than fair.  It is full of unmerited grace, undeserved mercy, relentless forgiveness, and true justice that has been given for you today by the Lord, our gracious God who is merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.

So we might say, Thanks be to God that it’s not fair.  Amen!

More than Enough

Yesterday was my official "Farewell and Godspeed" party at Bethany. It was my last Sunday in the pulpit. My last Sunday in general actually. It was a morning of blessings for me. Instead of saying "goodbye," we said "until we meet again." And so many people expressed affirmation of my call and my gifts. I left feeling uplifted and ready for the next part of the journey.

Today, the next part of the journey consists in cleaning up my office, attending further farewell get togethers, and tying up loose ends. Trey and I hope to hit the road bright-and-early exactly one week from now. While I am super sad to leave Colorado, there's a cool, shimmery Minnesota lake waiting for me at the end of the road, and you can believe I'll be jumping right in. Of course, I'm looking forward to spending some time with my family...I believe they're excited to have us back (don't spoil my illusion if you're reading this!). And a bit of RnR will be just the thing we need before classes start on September 6.

The new intern was here yesterday. It was fun to pass the cincture (or the torch if you don't speak nerdy liturgist terminology). I told him that he is a lucky dude, that he's going to have a great year, and that I could not have imagined a better internship all around. It's true. I am glad to be sad to leave. It means I connected, I invested, I loved. And I will carry the relationships I've built with me wherever I go. But for now, I'd better get back to boxing stuff up. The to do list is long, and reminiscing is hardly on it! In the meantime, you can find my final sermon as "The Intern" below, may it inspire you!


“More than Enough”
Matthew 14:13-21
A sermon by Jessica Harris Daum
7-31-11, Bethany Lutheran Church

The last time I reflected on our Scripture for this morning, the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000, I was in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. It was just over a week into my tour of the Holy Land, and I had seen and experienced so much. The group I traveled with was not just in Israel and Palestine to see the ancient stones and walk the historic footsteps of Jesus, but we were also there to meet the living stones, the Palestinian and Israeli people who live in the midst of a reality colored by conflict and need.

By the time we found ourselves sailing across the soothing waves of the Sea of Galilee, I had seen and experience more than I could process. I had witnessed the frustration of Palestinian young people who were unable to move freely from their villages to other parts of the country and world for education or jobs. I had witnessed the fear of Israeli mothers who worried that the systems of bureaucracy and occupation would never create a peaceful and secure future for their children. I had witnessed the grief of people who had been cut off from their livelihood, their ancestral farmland, by a fence intended to bring security. We witnessed the pain of two peoples; people who were not so different; people who, when moved by joy smiled very similar smiles, and when touched by sorrow, cried the same salty tears.

Rocking on the waves in that boat on the Sea of Galilee, all of these scenes flooded my mind. When we had reached a point in the middle of the water, the boat’s motor stopped, and we were still. It seemed that each of us was lost in the same reflection. Then, Pastor Arnie, our group’s leader and guide, broke the silence. He recounted the story of Jesus feeding the multitudes.

Jesus had come ashore, from these very same waters and found a crowd. There were always crowds. It seems that they even anticipated where he would be before he got there. And there they were. (If I had been Jesus, and thank goodness I’m not, I would have been annoyed. He had set out to find a bit of solitude and here’s another crowd.) But Jesus wasn’t annoyed….instead “he had compassion for them and cured their sick.” And he spent time in their midst. Soon it was evening, time to go find dinner. But just as everyone began to gather up their things and kids to leave…Jesus issued an invitation to a feast, right there, in the deserted place. The disciples didn’t get it of course. And they wondered aloud how it could be possible to feed such a crowd, they weren’t rich after all, and McDonald’s dollar menu had not yet been invented. But we know where the story goes from here. Miraculously, with only five loaves and two fish, Jesus feeds the masses…and there are baskets of leftovers…not just provision, but abundance…Jesus makes their very little into more than enough.

After retelling the story, Pastor Arnie looked at our group and he must have sensed us wondering. We wondered, How is it that we can hear and believe such a story of Christ’s compassion and provision, in the midst of a present day reality of need and division? Then, looking at each of us, he said, “After seeing all we’ve seen here in the Holy Land, it’s easy to become overwhelmed and fall into despair. We see all that needs to be done and the little we have to offer, and we begin to wonder like the disciples wondered about the loaves and fishes, ‘What are these among so many?’ The problem seems huge, and we feel small in the face of it. But we know that Jesus multiplied the fish and loaves, and so we can trust that he will multiply what we have to offer. He will multiply the seemingly small efforts that we are able to make. He will make from our very little, an impact that is more than enough.”

This year, I’ve witnessed the miracle of the loaves and fishes, the miracle of more than enough. In fact, I’ve seen it more than once.

Within weeks of my arrival here at Bethany, I was amazed to witness the miracle of more than enough on October 10th 2010. The 10-10-10 campaign called upon each of you to gather and set aside a dollar a day or a pound of food a day for 100 days. And on that Sunday in October, at the end of the 100 days of setting aside just a little, I witnessed a miracle as the jars of dollar bills kept coming forward all morning long…until they amounted to a mountain of aid that would help Metro CareRIng fill the stomachs of hundreds of hungry families in our community. And on top of that, the mountain of canned goods in the hallway stood as a physical sign that through our small gifts God provides more than enough.

Lest I think that this miracle of more than enough was some sort of fluke, God made it happen again. On this altar at Thanksgiving, ordinary shoes became holy. In fact, it seemed like they were multiplying all on their own. And as I helped haul those hundreds of pairs of stinky shoes to fill the Soles for Souls shipping container, I felt like a disciple gathering up leftovers in my basket. Again, my eyes were gazing upon a miracle of more than enough.

These first miracles of generosity, and provision, and abundance are what gave me the confidence that God would help us pull off a crazy thing called Be The Blessing. As you all, one by one, signed your names to spaces on paper promising to give of your time and energy and talents on May 22, I witnessed once again, God’s multiplication. Do you know that together, more than 800 of us did in one day the work that it would take one person an entire year to do?! As a congregation we made an impact that was hundreds of times bigger than one person could have made alone. But what’s even more amazing is that God partnered with us. God multiplied the work, the smiles, the impact. We could never measure the results of a day like that, but we can trust that it was for sure more than enough.

There’s at least one more miracle of more than enough that I’ve been allowed to see with my eyes this year, and this one happened in me. A year ago, I worshipped with you all for the first time. Pastor Ron greeted me that morning…and then he tested my swimming skills by throwing me in the deep end of the pool! I didn’t know if I had what it took to stand up here in front of you all and do what I was called to do. But I didn’t have the chance to say all that before I was at the font, leading the confession and forgiveness. It wasn’t the last time this year that I felt like what I had to offer was too little. And it wasn’t the last time God took what I had to give and made it more than enough.

I have a favorite saying as a person going through the process of becoming a pastor. It goes like this: “God doesn’t call the equipped. God equips the called.” This saying is true. And it isn’t just about pastors. It can be scary answering God’s call in our lives—whatever that call may be. But God asks each of us to use what we’ve got to do his work. To bring our gifts forward without holding back. And as we do that, he promises to multiply what we have and make it more than enough.

Jesus could have fed the crowd on his own. Christ could have fed the whole world by speaking a word. But this wasn’t the way of Jesus’ ministry. This isn’t the point of Christ’s mission. God calls each of us to be participants in Christ’s mission of compassion to the world. God intends to feed the hungry in body and spirit. And he wants us to get in on the action. He wants us to be the ones handing out the loaves and fish so that we might witness the miracles. God wants us to care for our neighbors so that we might be changed in the process.

What is the food that you’ve been called to contribute? What is the little something that you can bring forth in faith so that God will multiply it?

Who do you know that is hungry? Who will you see this week that needs the bread of life? Can you be the hands and feet that bring it?

How have you been the one carrying the basket to gather up the leftovers? When have you witnessed God’s extravagance and the good news of abundance lately? Has it changed you to see the way God can create more than enough out of what you thought was much too little?

Are you the one hungering for food that satisfies? If so come, come to the table of mercy. Feast on the bread of life come down from heaven. Know that Christ, in all his compassion, has prepared a place at the table for you this day. And at Jesus’ table there’s always more than enough.

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Children's Sermon?

*the sassy passy in action*
As I said in a previous post, this past Sunday, I preached and helped to lead worship in the absence of my supervisor and our associate pastor. Leading worship often calls for me to draw upon all of the improvising skills I have. Luckily, I took a SPA (summer performing arts) course in improv one summer in high school...so I am abounding in improvising skill. At least I'm abounding in hyperbole skill.

For the first time as The Intern I was in charge of giving the announcements at the beginning of worship. And as a first-timer, I did a pretty good job. Except for one thing. When I sat down in my pew, it dawned on me...I had forgotten to introduce and thank our substitute presiding minister, Pastor Laurie J, a member of our congregation who serves as director of pastoral care at a Denver area hospital. Oh man, I thought as I listened to Pastor Laurie lead the prayer of the day, I dropped the ball. Super improv skills to the rescue!

It occurred to me that I could fix my mistake before beginning the children's sermon. I'd introduce her and thank her, all under the guise of an innocent intern who didn't know any better. The perfect plan.

Only one problem. As we sang "O Sing to the Lord..." the song during which the children were supposed to come forward...no children came forward. I could punt one off-the-script situation, but two? I had no choice, it was time to improvise.

"I have two problems right now," I announced from the front of the sanctuary. "The first problem is that, sometimes as The Intern you make a mistake. And I've made a mistake this morning by not introducing our guest presiding minister. Thank you, Pastor Laurie J., for leading us this morning. We are so glad to have you."

"Now, the second problem is more obvious...." The congregation laughed on cue as they realized I was standing up front to give the children's sermon...with no children. "Clearly you can see there are no children up here for the children's sermon. Last chance...are there any kids who want to come up? Okay, are there any kids at heart who will come up?" A shot in the dark, but I trusted God to provide.

And God came through of course. So did about 6 adults in our 8am worshiping congregation. My "children" ranged from the few teens and preteens who came up to relive their no-so-distant childhood to a couple of young-at-heart parishioners whose age calls for enough respect that I ought not guess at their age. It was an inspirational testament to the fact that we are all God's children, no matter the year of our birth.

What a fun time! Sure, I could have just moved on with no children's sermon, but to tell the truth, that option just didn't occur to me. I am thankful for many things this year on internship, but most of all, I'm thankful for all the good, faithful folks who were willing to let me be their leader and who have followed me down many a path less-trodden, trusting the same faithful God that I trust to take us somewhere good. I hope all the years of my life in ministry are as fun as this one has been!

What a difference a year makes

Today was a milestone for me. Nearing the very end of my internship at Bethany, this morning was the first time that I helped to lead worship without my colleagues Pastors Ron and Ruth Ann. It was a crazy realization to discover that I was the one who knew what was going on in worship this morning! I went from being "the intern"--without a clue, just 11 short months ago, to being people's "pastor" this morning in the absence of the rest of our regular leadership team.

What a great capstone to the year. What a way to gauge all that I've learned. What a perspective this gives me to look back on the road I've traveled and how far I've come. What a morning!

I'm so thankful to have had this year to learn and grow with the guidance of mentors like Ron and Ruth Ann and in the midst of such a supportive and uplifting congregation and staff. The only downside is saying 'goodbye.' But I still have 2 weeks until I have to do that officially.

For now, here's the sermon I preached this morning, on gardening with Mom, holding back judgment, American Pickers, and our patient, hopeful God of transformations.



“From Weeds to Wheat”

Sermon by Jessica Harris Daum
on Matthew 13:24-30; 36-43--The Parable of the Weeds and the Wheat
Preached July 17 at Bethany Lutheran Church, Cherry Hills Village, CO


President Dwight D. Eisenhower once said, “Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil, and you're a thousand miles from the corn field.”

I feel at least a bit unqualified to be preaching to you about growing things this morning. You’d think that being a North Dakota Girl, I might know a bit about farming. But the truth is, I grew up in the city. Even though that city was surrounded by farm fields--fields that served as the “bread basket of the world” as North Dakota is the country’s leading producer of cereal grain crops like wheat. Yet, while I have seen more wheat fields than most and understand and appreciate their importance, I never really had the chance to enter them and learn about the art of farming that rich, black, Red River Valley soil.

What’s worse is I can’t even keep a house plant alive. I certainly don’t have a green thumb.

But even I know one thing: weeding your garden or your field is an important thing to do. I know this because of the number of times my mom has given me a pair of gloves, a kneeling pad, and some metal gardening tool of which I don’t know the name and pointed me to a patch of garden with one mission: remove the weeds.

The job of weeding goes on all summer long at my parents’ cabin. My mom will use any help she can get when it comes to weeding the gardens that snake up and down the hill. As evidence take the fact that she would put me to work, with my zero knowledge in horticulture.

Weeding is a tough job. Not just because of the physical labor involved, but also because it can be hard to tell which things need to be plucked up, and which ones are about to bloom into some wonderful, rare flower or bear some unexpected fruit.

This week I’ve gathered a number of definitions for the word “weed.”

Some say, “a weed is a plant for which we have yet to find the use.” In other words, it is an undiscovered treasure. Plenty of people have found good uses for plants once, or even still, considered to be weeds. For example: dandelions fashioned into a beautiful crown, or thistles that can be turned into thistle wine, or common milkweed--a large food source for the Monarch butterfly. I think that a plant we haven’t found a use for yet is a pretty optimistic definition of weeds. In fact I like it. But some people aren’t the biggest fans of their neighbors who use this definition in tending their yards.

Some say, “a weed is a plant that’s growing where you don’t want it.” I know some people with this definition of weeds. Some of whom make beautiful use of so-called “weeds” by allowing them to grow in parts of their garden. Others of whom use this definition to indiscriminately remove plants, even useful and beautiful ones, at the direction of their whim. My mom doesn’t like these sort of people weeding in her garden.

Since I’m back on the subject of my mom’s garden, there’s something important to note. My mom inherited the many gardens around the cabin from the previous owner. And prior to this inheritance, she had the brown thumb that you can find in her offspring. Weeding in the garden the first summer of the cabin was an experiment in patience. She and I had very little knowledge of what the plants were that were poking out of the spring ground. I would point and ask, “weed?” And she would page through her Minnesota Gardens book and sometimes answer “Yes! Pull it!” Then sometimes she’d find the picture of the little green sprout and share her discovery with joy, “No, that’s (some scientific plant name), it’ll have big pink flowers in July.” Most often she’d look up from her book, squint at me, and say, “Let’s leave it and wait and see.”

I think this is what God, the great gardener says when he looks at the sprigs and sprouts that poke up out of the dirt of this world. “Let’s leave it and wait and see.”

At this point, I’ve reached the very end of my little knowledge about plants. And I’m also doubting that very many of you have farming experience outside of your backyard garden. Assumptions are rarely good though, so let me check mine. By a raise of hands, how many of you would say that you have an agricultural background. As people who live in a mostly urban or suburban world, these farming parables of Jesus can sometimes miss the mark for us. So, I’m wondering if you might grant me permission to share my own parable with you: The Parable of the Junk Drawer.

First of all, let me be sure that this one will hit home for us. By a raise of hands, how many of you are the proud owner of a junk drawer....or an attic...or a basement, garage, or storage unit full of stuff? Okay, looks like we’re on the right track, so here we go...

I put before you another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who put important things in a drawer; but while everybody was busy doing other things, their children, (or spouse, or alternate personality) came and put junk in there, and then went away. So when the drawer began to fill up and somebody opened it to find their important item, the junk appeared as well. And the obedient children (or helpful spouse, or alternate personality) of the householder came and said to him (or her), “Master (your children or spouse call you that right?), did you not put important things in your drawer? Where, then, did this junk come from?! He answered, “An enemy has done this.” The slaves (errr, I mean obedient children, helpful spouse, or alternate personality) said to him, “Then do you want us to go and sort out that junk and give it to Good Will?” But he replied, “No; for in sorting out the junk you would end up getting rid of some of the important things as well. Let both of them remain in the drawer as long as we live here;; and someday when we move, while we’re packing I will tell the movers, Collect the junk first and throw it away, but the important stuff mark “handle with care” and ship to my new home.”

We all have a junk drawer, or closet, or room, or level of our home...but most of us don’t intend for it to be that way. We don’t say “let the junk and the good stuff remain in the drawer together as long as we live here, for in sorting out the junk we might get rid of something good.” That’s called hoarding, and it’s a diagnosable, treatable disorder that people would rather not have. Instead we have junk drawers that accumulate over time against our best struggles against them and our many good intentions to clean them out. If a member of our household should volunteer to sort out the junk, most of us would gladly take them up on the offer.

I’ve been watching the show “American Pickers” lately, and I think it has inspired this new parable. If you haven’t seen it before, it’s a show about a couple of guys who love to dig through junk piles, and garages, and basements, and barns--all in search of the diamond in the rough. They drive around and keep an eye out for the yard with six old cars in it or the old barn with gasoline signs hanging haphazardly from it. Then they pull in, meet the owner, and ask if they can dig through their trash to find a hidden treasure. In the show’s opening, one of the Pickers Mike says, “Where other people see junk, we see dollar signs.”

It seems to me that the same couple of definitions of “weeds” I’ve mentioned can function to describe people’s understanding of “junk” as well. As Trey and I sort out our stuff to get ready for our trip back to MN, we tend to be defining junk as stuff that is growing where we don’t want it. Or rather, stuff that we no longer need or want...really stuff we don’t have room for anymore. Most of the people that the Pickers visit look at junk and see something that hasn’t reached it’s full potential. To them, junk is a thing for which we have yet to find a use. One woman explained as she showed the Pickers around her “junky” garage, “My father wasn’t a junk man really. He was just a depression era man who saw a potential use in everything.”

As I’ve watched this show I am taken, not by the entrepreneurial spirit of the “Pickers,” though they do love to turn a profit on the things that they find, but I’ve been moved by the way their eyes sprakle when they pull a 1920s tin toy out of a pile of old newpapers. The way that their spirits light up as they tell the story of a high-wheel bicycle that is rusting among the carcasses of junked autos. The way they shout as an old Studebaker is brought out of a garage and into the sunlight for the first time in 30 years. These guys delight in finding the treasure among the junk. Even more so, they delight in turning junk into treasure. Most of us don’t have the gift of seeing things this way. But I believe this is how God looks at us. With a passionate gleam in his eye, God looks at each of us and sees not the rusty exterior or the space we take up, but sees instead the shiny self we will be when he’s through restoring us. God sees in us great potential, and is as excited as a Picker at the opportunity to reclaim us and remake us.

The landowner who turns down the opportunity to have his field weeded is bizarre. Any other landowner would not only take his workers up on the offer, he wouldn’t have been waiting for the offer at all, but instead he would have been scolding his neglectful employees who hadn’t already taken up the obvious and necessary task.

Last week Pastor Ruth Ann showed us how the parable of the seeds sown on the path, and rocky ground, among thorns, and in good soil tells us less about the type of ground and more about the sower. I believe the same is true for us with the weeds and wheat this week. Jesus lays out for us a story that is Good News for you and me. Not a story of the fiery fate of those who turn out to be weeds in the end, but the story of our God who is an extra-ordinary farmer. A farmer with the generosity, joy, and audacity to throw seeds “willy-nilly” and see what might come up. A farmer with the patience and hope to “wait and see” when it comes to the weeds growing among the wheat.

Horticulturally speaking, weeds cannot become wheat. Theologically speaking, that’s exactly what we are: people who have been changed from weeds to wheat. Changed from junk to treasure. Changed from people without a purpose to the Children of God, workers in the Kingdom, and heirs with Christ in all that God has to offer, including eternal life.

If the workers had been allowed to weed us out, we would have been in the Good Will box along with all of humanity. But the Good News from Jesus today is this: God is not an ordinary gardener. We are not ordinary plants. Instead we are seeds sown in the spirit, genetically altered sprouts infused with the DNA of Christ, and one day we will grow to mature plants, created in the image of our God who loves to perform horticultural miracles in us each day.

Thanks be to God for that. Amen.

Be The Blessing is Here!

Be The Blessing day of service is here! 700 Bethany members and friends are out in full force, putting their faith in action, and serving God by helping their neighbors. I'm off to witness God's work, our hands! Keep your eye out for green shirts all over Denver.

What follows is our official Be The Blessing press release, feel free to send it along to any news contacts you may have. We hope to spread the Word and inspire others to serve.

Blessings!
SassyPassy



Bethany Lutheran Church launches major effort to help people in Denver.
Sunday, May 22, Bethany Lutheran Church congregation will fan out across Denver to make a
difference in people’s lives. This is especially important as so many have been hurt by the
economic downtown.

“Be The Blessing” is a major service opportunity in which more than 700 church members will
help people at more than 50 different locations. Members of the congregation will help people
who are experiencing homelessness, hunger, loneliness, poverty, illness and mental health
issues. They will also assist in repairing and building homes and beautifying neighborhoods and
Denver community parks.

We believe this effort is the largest of its kind undertaken by a Denver church. “We will impact
the lives of thousands of people in need,” said Senior Pastor Ron Glusenkamp.

The project was organized by Pastoral Intern Jess Harris Daum. “We have so many people from
our congregation who want to make a difference that we are literally doing a year’s worth of
work in a single day.”

Bethany Lutheran cancelled two of its three services scheduled for Sunday to give its members
the opportunity to serve. The church’s sign reads, “Worship is cancelled. Join the service.”
“You may have heard of pay it forward. This is pray it forward,” said Pastor Glusenkamp.

Follow this link for a list of projects, times and locations http://bit.ly/iT1sli
Follow this link for a map of locations http://bit.ly/in0hbV

There will be several visual opportunities as well as people available for interviews all day.
Projects are scheduled from 5:45am-4pm.

Call Intern Jess Harris Daum at 720-421-0434 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 720-421-0434 end_of_the_skype_highlighting if you would like to set up an interview and/orfind an appropriate location.

Pastor Ron Glusenkamp is available for interviews. His cell phone is 303-564-9769 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 303-564-9769 end_of_the_skype_highlighting
Sarah Hulslander will be able to answer questions on Sunday. Her cell is: 303-653-1731 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 303-653-1731 end_of_the_skype_highlighting

Bethany Lutheran Church
4500 East Hampden Ave
Cherry Hills Village, CO 80113
www.bethany-denver.org
303-758-2820 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 303-758-2820 end_of_the_skype_highlighting

Follow this link for national coverage by Livinglutheran.com http://bit.ly/iT1sli

Claimed, Gathered, and Sent

This Sunday I got to preach. You'll find the entirety of my sermon below. Lucky for me, the text for this past week was the perfect match for all that I wanted to say to the congregation about our Be The Blessing Day of service coming up in just 3 short weeks. As Thomas longed to see and the Risen Christ for himself, so we all long for our own experience of the Messiah in our lives. As the Father sent Jesus, so we are being sent into the community to be Christ's hands and feet that others might experience God's love for them and come to believe.

If you'd like to serve with our congregation in Denver on Sunday, May 22, fill out our online registration form--it only takes 5 minutes. You can also support our Be The Blessing event and find out more about it by visiting our facebook page.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

John 20:19-31

“Claimed, Gathered, and Sent."

Happy Easter! I know, I know, that is so last week. But as Christians we gather to celebrate Easter every single Sunday. So between that truth and the fact that today is the Second Sunday of Easter, I definitely have the right to do this: Alleluia, Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia!

When I was a Youth Director in Minnesota I was teaching a confirmation lesson one night, and I wanted to make a point about all that we have in common through our shared faith. I started off by asking the group of junior high kids, hoping for a gimme, “How many of you are Christians?” No response, so I tried again, thinking maybe they hadn’t been listening. “Raise your hand if you are a Christian!” Still, no hands, no response at all, just a bunch of empty stares in my general direction. I started to think we had a pretty big problem on our hands—half way through at least one year of catechetical instruction, some almost through two years, and none of our Confirmands were Christian? I asked one more time, “Come on everybody, raise your hand if you are a Christian.” One girl shouted out, “Jess, we’re Lutherans!”

Needless to say, our regularly scheduled lesson for that evening was put on hold in order to describe exactly what it means to be Christian and how it is that we share in a Lutheran expression of the Christian faith.

As Lutherans in this place, we are also a part of an even more specific group. We are members of a denomination called the ELCA, or the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. As a part of this national church-wide body, are involved in something even bigger than our own congregation. Through the ELCA, along with other Lutheran bodies, we’re blessed to be a part of huge efforts such as Lutheran World Relief, Lutheran Disaster Response, and Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services. Many of our young people have been able to experience the Body of Christ in a big way through participation in ELCA National Youth Gatherings.

This might all be news to you. It may also be news to you that the ELCA has a mission statement—a roadmap for a mission which we are all called take on in our communities, congregations, and lives. It’s a baptismal mission. It’s God’s mission. Here it is:

“Marked with the cross of Christ forever, we are claimed, gathered, and sent for the sake of the world.”

Now, what does that have to do with Jesus’ post-Easter appearance to the disciples and Thomas’ experience of doubt turned into belief from our Gospel reading for today?

First of all, as our wider church body’s mission reminds us, we are Claimed by God’s grace for the sake of the world, we are a new creation through God’s living Word by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Christ’s wounds make a claim on Thomas. Before he saw, he couldn’t believe. The witness of others wasn’t enough for him. He hungered for his own experience of Christ, risen and present in relationship with him, not someone else. We can all relate to Thomas. We all have doubt. When we are being authentic, “Triple A” Christians, we are hopefully able to admit this. We have moments or season of doubt, in which we long for the risen Christ to come to us, show us his hands and side and prove to us once and for all that what we’ve believed without seeing is as true as we’ve hoped.

And for Thomas, that’s exactly what happens. He longs to experience Christ risen for him. And his heart’s desire is fulfilled. Jesus meets him in his doubt and gives him solid proof. For Thomas, seeing is believing. He cannot unsee the wounds of Jesus, and he can’t undo the claim they’ve made on his life. Now having seen, Thomas is gripped in the inescapable grasp of God’s self-giving love, the love of the savior who laid down his life for his friends—a grasp which certainly held him long before his profession of belief.

They say that faith is believing in things unseen. But I think faith is also being gripped in the powerful grasp of Christ, whom we have seen, who has come to us, who has shown us his love, who has died and rose again that we might be free from the hold sin and death had on us. And we, even in our moments of doubt, can’t deny that we have seen the Risen Christ, we’ve touched him and been touched, we’ve experienced him in the sacraments of baptism and communion.

As those who are claimed, we are gathered. Our ELCA mission statement affirms that we are Gathered by God’s grace for the sake of the world, we will live among God’s faithful people, hear God’s Word, and share Christ’s supper.

We are not gathered like the disciples when Jesus appears to them, huddled somewhere with the doors locked for fear of some terrible fate. We gather boldly, in the midst of a world that doesn’t always acknowledge the power of hope or the value of forgiveness.

We gather to support one another in faith. In fact, in the toughest of times, when doubt is all that we feel, the community of faith believes for us. How many of us have been gripped by grief or depression or other tough stuff and have found it impossible to sing the song of faith. In these moments, we are lifted up by the faith of the community, who will sing the song of faith for us and pray the prayers our own heart cannot bear to pray. Gathering keeps us in the faith, gathering reminds us that we have been claimed.

But gathering isn’t the end of the story, our mission has one more component. As God’s people claimed and gathered we are finally sent. We are sent by God’s grace for the sake of the world, we will proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, serve all people following the example of our Lord Jesus, and strive for justice and peace in all the world.

Christ speaks these words to his disciples, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

A prayer by Saint Teresa of Avila has something to say about how and why it is that we are sent into the world:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

Our congregation is experiencing a call to be Christ’s body in the world in a very special way. On May 22, we will gather, not in this sanctuary, but out there in the community of Denver. We will gather as people who are sent to serve our neighbor in love. We will be working with over 20 Denver area organizations, who each have their own mission for change in the world, but who all see our vision of God’s kingdom on earth. There are over 50 sites, 50 projects, 50 opportunities for you to serve. If you don’t think there’s a way for you to be involved, then talk to me, and I’ll help you find a way to Be The Blessing. We are waiting and hoping for 100 more people to answer the call; over 600 have already said they will Be The Blessing May 22. If you haven’t responded to this opportunity to live out your faith yet, find our registration table outside of the sanctuary today or register online.

Because someone in Aurora is doubting that the Good News is true. The hands that pound nails into the frame of a Habitat for Humanity house on the street where they live on May 22^nd will be Christ’s hands, showing them that the Prince of Peace truly is present.

And a woman in a nursing home is losing hope and finding it hard to believe that she still matters in the eyes of the world and in the heart of God. The feet that step across her doorway to spend a short Sunday visit as a part of the Bessie’s Hope project will be more than a blessing for her, they will be the feet of her Savior, who has appeared to restore her faith.

And there’s a man in downtown Denver who hungers for more than breakfast as he arrives at Denver Rescue Mission at dawn. His spirit will be filled again as he looks Jesus in the eye, the one serving heaping helpings of grace with the scrambled eggs.

And even someone in this sanctuary is struggling to have faith. Out of obligation, or peer pressure, or in one last attempt to experience resurrection they’ll sign up to Be The Blessing, as crazy as it seems. And at the moment they least expect, the hand of one whom they expected to serve will become for them the hand of Christ—wounded and vulnerable, close enough to touch, and real enough to believe.

Jesus is risen and we shall arise. In the meantime, let us be Christ’s hands and feet for those who are still yearning to see and believe.

Christ is risen. Amen.

The Neglectful Blogger: A brief, though significant protest of Time

I am in complete denial.

I refuse to recognize the fact that an entire Month (and possibly a little more than that) has gone by since my last blog post.

And it's not just about my neglect of blogging.
It's about so much more!

Time and I are not on the greatest terms right now.
You see, somehow Time keeps slipping away from me. Right when I am sure I have him in my grasp, I turn around and a few Days have gone by. It feels as though each time I blink, an inordinate number of Moments flutter past, unseen. That Minute hand moves faster than I think it should.

Then, as quickly as Time flies by when I'm preoccupied with other matters, he also seems to stretch out into long, successive Days, Weeks, Months, and Years, so far ahead of me. Time keeps busy by creating a great gap between where I am and where I can't wait to be!

Next Year at this Time, I will have a Synod assignment (fingers crossed!). [Which means, to those of you who are unfamiliar with the system of checkpoints and actions that create a Pastor, that Trey and I will know what geographical location we will be serving in on our first assignment as ordained ministers.] And I know, that one Year from now, I will inevitably say to myself, "Good grief, that Year went by fast." I will claim I have no idea where the Time has gone. But in that Age-old trick that Time is so fond of playing, from my Present vantage point, the 365 Days between me and that Moment seem unfathomably long.

I'm setting all of you observers of my Life up for a perfect "Told you so" opportunity. And I give you full permission to remind me next Year of my lack of perspective. I always need to be reminded, lest I lose sight of the importance of each and every Minute. Lest I always live in the Not Yet, and neglect the gift of the Now.

So, Time, I just want you to be aware that I'm on to you. And I know you will win this little game that you play. For I am a creature bound by Minutes, Hours, Days, Months, Years, and a Lifetime for now. I can't escape your earthly grasp. I can't control you, Time, but you don't completely control me either. For although it seems you are my master and that your Days and Years will hold me, I have been freed by the Keeper of Eternity, and one day I will live outside of you, Time.

But right Now, I offer a brief though significant protest of Time's constant push and pull ever into the future by taking a deep breath and fully experiencing This Moment.........*sigh*..........

Good grief, look at the Time!

Life Out of Death

I have been waiting patiently for the opportunity to teach the old, old, yet in many congregations brand new, dual Good Friday tradition of The Procession of the Cross and the Reverencing of the Cross.

I don't know why, but I think there is something very cool and counter-cultural about expressing our adoration for the cross. First of all, the cross is such a deep and layered symbol: instrument of death, tool of torture, death of God, sacrifice of the lamb, beginning of the work of salvation. And as Christians, we can't help but look at the cross and see resurrection.

Last Wednesday night I had the honor of introducing 50 some junior highers, their parents, and various other people from age 5 to 95 to the ancient posture and position of taking a knee at the foot of the cross: where indeed we encounter the love of God.

The lead in began with the sermon, as I preached about, of all things, Jesus' love and sacrifice for you. In our planning meetings leading up to this night, it was tangible that the greatest desire was to express the personal, pivotal impact of the cross. Not just that God is love, or that God loves the world, but that God, radically, loves you. And God loves me too.

But the most important thing about the service, in my opinion, is that we embraced worship as a context for learning. Instead of hauling in a cross, singing an unfamiliar tune tentatively, and walking nervously by the cross in fear of making a fool of our selves, we explained thoroughly what was about to happen, and then we did it.

I have no proof that what happened last night would not have happened had we not inserted a teaching moment in the middle of liturgy, but I'd like to think that it sure helped. What happened, by the way, was that nearly every member of our congregation, regardless of age, background, gender, reverenced the cross in a way that was, I hope at least, meaningful for them. As I distributed communion, I snuck a glance over my shoulder to see a community, the Body of Christ, gathered at the foot of the cross, in curiosity, in wonder, in worship, and in love. And half of those venturing outside of their comfort zone to reverence the tree of life were junior highers! Now that's uplifting and encouraging.

If you're interested in teaching this old tradition (that's making a comeback) in your setting, you may want to sneak a peak at the words that set up the action. So what follows is my short sermon "Jesus Loves Me" followed by Instructions for the procession and reverencing of the cross. Good luck! May God meet you at the foot of the cross, and at every point in your life, as Christ truly comes down to us.

Sermon: "Jesus Loves Me"

I want you to sing with me. Will you sing with me? I think you know the song. Here we go…Jesus loves me this I know. Let’s try that one more time, Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so, little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Yes Jesus loves me. Yes Jesus loves me. Yes Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so.

They are weak but he is strong.

I am weak. You are weak. Our reading tonight points this out very clearly…It is written, about you and about me, about all of us that, “There is no one who is in right relationship with God. Not even one of us. There is no one who understands, there is no one who seeks God. We have all turned away, and together we have become worthless, there isn’t even one person who shows kindness, not even one.” Wow, we are weak, that’s for sure.

Jesus is strong. Jesus is the only one who was strong enough to make it through a human lifetime without sin. Jesus, as we learned at the very beginning of this year, was strong enough to resist temptation. And, Jesus, is the only one who has ever lived who is strong enough to beat death and break the hold that death and sin have on our lives. How can Jesus be so strong? It isn’t because he’s a superhero, or a warrior, or a really great man. Jesus is God. And with God all things are possible.

God saw our weakness, the weakness of all human beings over all of time, and decided to step in on our behalf. God saw how you cheated on your math test. And how you are mean to your sibling when you don’t think anyone is looking. He sees me as I make mistakes, and believe me I make mistakes. And he even notices how you are mean toward yourself, thinking things about yourself that you’d never want anyone to know.

God saw our weakness and decided to enter our lives in a very unusual way.

The Jesus we picture on the cross. Hanging there, helplessly, with blood running down his forehead. That Jesus doesn’t seem very strong. The cross looks to us like a defeat not a victory. If we had been there, we would think that Jesus had lost. Score: Human beings: 1, Jesus: 0. It seemed clear to those who witnessed the crucifixion that he wasn’t the Messiah after all. And that he definitely wasn’t very strong.

The truth is: It is in weakness that God displays his greatest strength. It’s in the cross that Jesus takes on sin and death and conquers them on our behalf. Without this feat of strength by Jesus, without this act of power by God, we’d be the helpless ones. Left to be overcome by darkness, disease, violence, emptiness, failure, sin, and death.

But instead of leaving us to our own defenses, weak and powerless against sin and death, on the cross Jesus enters into all of those terrible things. And he is God, and as God he could have definitely avoided all of those things. Instead he chooses to enter it, to empty out his life on the cross, and to become our savior. Jesus is strong on our behalf.

It might surprise you to hear that Jesus died on the cross for you. Of course God is love, and God loves the entire world. We believe that because we’ve heard it since we were in Sunday School. But the amazing thing, the great surprise, is that Jesus loves you. Jesus loves me. It isn’t for some abstract idea of all of humanity that Jesus took on death on the cross. As he entered into the darkness of the cross, each of the individual people of the world across all of time flashed through Jesus’ mind. And right before his eyes, as he gave up his life, he saw your face.

For me, this can be hard to believe. In fact I’d have to wonder if I’m worth it. The fact is that I’m not worth it. Nothing I have done or ever could do could earn me the gift that Jesus has given me through the cross and resurrection. But Jesus didn’t die for us because we deserve it. He died for you and for me because he is love, and even more so because he loves you, yes you, and he loves me.

Jesus loves me him who died, heavens gates will open wide, he will wash away my sin, let his little child come in. Yes, Jesus loves me.

Let those words sink in way down deep, and as you look to the cross, may you see it as a sure and certain sign that Jesus loves you.

Thanks be to God. Amen.


Explanation of The Procession and Reverencing of the Cross

Throughout history the cross has been referred to as “the tree of life.”

The cross was an instrument of death, but not a simple painless death, a terrible death. So, why is it that we wear it around our necks or hang it in the front of our churches? And how could we possibly think of it as a tree of life.

As Christians we don’t see the cross as just a symbol of death. We know the next part of the story. Jesus conquers death and is resurrected. Because of his death and resurrection, we will be resurrected and we are free to live our lives abundantly. And so, the tree of the cross is for us the tree of life.

Especially on Good Friday, we acknowledge the cross before us as God’s gift of life. We meditate on the meaning of Christ’s cross in our lives, and we pray.

There is an ancient tradition that is making a come-back and becoming a part of more and more churches’ worship on Good Friday. This tradition is called the procession of the cross and reverencing of the cross.

We’re going to do this tonight, so here’s how it works: We rise as the procession of the cross begins; the cross enters the sanctuary and we sing together acknowledging it as the tree of life. We sing again as the cross is in the center of our midst, and once more as it is at the front of our sanctuary. All the while we turn our bodies to face the cross. Then, you are invited to spend a moment at the foot of the cross. At the foot of the cross we encounter God’s love.

Tonight we’re going to take part in this worship before the cross. The cross will process up the aisle, we will sing, and after you receive the bread and wine of communion, I encourage you to reverence the cross.

To reverence means to show respect, honor, to worship, and to adore. You can reverence the cross in many ways. All of these ways engage not just your heart and mind, but your body too.

You can stand before the cross, kneel beside it, touch the cross, make the sign of the cross on your body, lean your forehead against it, simply pause before it, or bow in respect. Any action that helps you to focus on the meaning of the cross and express your respect, worship, love, and gratitude is just fine. Keep in mind that the cross that we will reverence tonight is a real wooden cross, so be careful for splinters.

I do challenge you tonight to try this. Reverence the cross. And do it in a way that is maybe even one step outside of your comfort zone. This is a safe space, and we are all trying this as a new thing together.

Before the procession of the cross, let’s practice our part. Paula will sing the cantor’s line, and we will respond with the congregational part. Let’s do this two times through.

"Behold the life-giving cross, on which was hung the Savior of the whole world."
"Oh come, let us worship Him."

Please rise for the procession of the cross.