Ascension of our Lord

While portrayals of the birth and crucifixion of Christ and predictions of end times garner more support at the box office, the Book of Acts tells a different story. It is the story of the life of the early church and disciples, and it is all about the in-between times.

As one pastor says: “We are an Easter people living in a Good Friday world.” The statement recognizes how we live in a broken world where hope has been buried in a tomb. And yet, we know the sure and constant hope of the resurrection, even when all visible evidence argues for despair.

Upon the Ascension of our Lord, forty days after the glorious Easter celebration of the resurrection of Christ, we enter another in-between time. It doesn’t cast the same somber pall as Easter Saturday. On this day, Jesus leaves the disciples and, as we affirm in both the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds, “is seated at the right-hand of God” the Father in heaven.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus took time to withdraw from his disciples, and spend time with the Father in prayer and solitude.

But this time is different.

Since the fifth century, the focus on the Ascension has been on Jesus’ departure. Ancient works of art show him climbing a stairway to heaven; medieval paintings illustrate a group of disciples, and sometimes angels, watching his disappearing feet.  The impression one gets is that God has left us.

(pause)

But the Ascension does not revoke or break the promise of the resurrection. Jesus is not held somewhere between memory and hope, in some kind of cosmic suspended animation. And Jesus is not seated on a golden throne somewhere in the fluffy clouds above our heads. It looks different than the last forty days, but

God – Father -Son, and Holy Spirit – is still with us!

His departure is an ending, of his physical appearances and presence, but it is also a beginning. At the Ascension, Jesus promises his disciples that God is empowering us to be God’s people in wholly new way.

Up until now, Jesus has been with the disciples, teaching about the kingdom of heaven, and witnessing to them how to forgive and love and draw people into relationship with our merciful God. Jesus has been leading them every step of the way. Following him was as easy as following his footprints in sand because he was right there where they could see him.

Then, immediately before his ascension, Jesus tells the disciples to wait, saying,

“You are witnesses of these things. ⁴⁹And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here … until you have been clothed with power from on high.”

Now, the disciples are being asked to learn how to lead;

to wait on God’s initiative and make sense of where God is accompanying them;

to watch for God’s lead and follow, when the footsteps may not be as visible and the path is obscured.

Waiting is hard work. It’s much easier to rush in and do what we think is best, to create big and audacious programs, or to try to wrestle control and make people do what we want.

In our instant society where you can download a book in seconds, order movies on demand, and nearly anything can be delivered to your doorstep for a premium, we have lost the art of waiting.

About a week ago, the story of Noah was part of the daily lectionary – the readings assigned for the days between Sundays that are in Word and Season – and I noticed something new about this story that, even though I didn’t grow up learning memory verses in Bible drills, was familiar. You know the story, right?

God tells Noah to build an ark and then he tells him on a specific day to bring his wife and his sons and their wives and pairs of all the wild animals and creeping things and winged creatures onto the boat with him.

And then, it rains, and rains, and rains; for forty days, the flood continued, and every living thing on the face of the ground and the birds of the air were blotted out.

And when the flood ends, Noah sends out a dove and it returns with an olive branch and the next time he sends it out, it doesn’t return, indicating that all the waters were dried up.

And then God puts his bow in the clouds, and makes a covenant, or promise, with Noah and humankind.

That’s the story we all know. Except when you read Genesis 8 and 9 again, you hear a second story, an unabridged version that makes the story much more demanding, as if living on a boat for forty days with every blessed creature on earth isn’t enough!

Like the creation stories in the first two chapters of Genesis, Noah’s story is told by two different writers, and their stories are entwined in the text. In the longer version of the story, Noah and his family have to wait.

It says that, after the flood stops, “the waters gradually receded from the earth; at the end of one hundred fifty days, the waters had abated; and in the seventh month…the ark [reached land].” The waters continued to abate for three more months. After TEN months, three HUNDRED days, the mountaintops began to reappear.

In 300 days,

a person can hike the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine;

a gardener can sow seeds, plant, grow and harvest a bounty;

an infant can be conceived, carried and born.

Contrary to what popular culture and technology teaches us, waiting is not something to be avoided.

It is hard though. Ask the high school senior waiting on college admission decisions; the expectant parents and grandparents eager with anticipation; or anyone waiting for a loved one to return from a military deployment.

Waiting, and admitting our powerlessness, our lack of control, is tough.

But waiting on God isn’t “doing nothing.” It isn't about indecision or laziness.

Waiting on God is choosing to trust God’s promise to be with us in all circumstances, instead of anxiously worrying about what’s next.

Waiting on God is learning to be a disciple and be fully present in each day that God has given us.

With Jesus’ words echoing in our heads, may we wait, with courage and patience, confident God is with us.

Let us pray…[i]

Holy God,

Prepare us to go out into the world,

that in our words and in our lives we may bear witness to the Christ who has ascended to be everywhere present.

Give us patience and a spirit of wisdom and revelation,

that we would await the fulfillment of your promises in our lives.

Amen.

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[i]a Adapted from Laughing Bird Liturgical Resources

Sixth Sunday of Easter

In today’s Gospel, we join Jesus on the night when he will be arrested, as he is talking with his disciples. Throughout this Farewell Discourse that begins in Chapter 13 and continues through Chapter 18 of John’s Gospel, Jesus is preparing his followers,

explaining that he is on the move.

But in the midst of his goodbye to them, he makes promises too. In this short passage he affirms that he is not leaving them alone.

And, as if he knows their doubts and fears will drown out his words of assurance, he says it three times. First, he says,

“[An advocate] will abide with you”

The word Jesus uses here is “paraclete.” Helper, comforter, counselor and advocate are all ways it gets translated into English. The point is: we are not alone.

The disciples had been following their rabbi Jesus who was both very visible and vocal, and now he was leaving; he wanted them to know that even when they cannot see him face-to-face, he is still present. Their faith was not in an ordinary human, but in God, revealed in the person of Jesus.

Now, an advocate is not merely a friend, but someone who takes risks for another; someone who protects the vulnerable and speaks up for the neglected; someone who, as Luther put it in his Heidelberg Disputation, “calls a thing what it is” – naming evil as “evil” and good as “good” – without regard for popular opinion. An advocate lends strength and courage when it is waning, rallying us, bringing us to our feet when we are weary and helping us face life unafraid.[i] This is who Jesus promises is accompanying us in his absence.

But sometimes, when we look over our shoulder, it still feels like we’re alone. The people we are used to sharing our days or our lives with aren’t always with us. The disciples would scatter later that same night as they fled from the soldiers who arrest Jesus and hide behind locked doors after the crucifixion. Against the creeping uncertainty and fear, Jesus says,

“I will not leave you orphaned”

We are made sons and daughters of God by faith and that status is immutable; it cannot be taken away or lost. We are not orphaned because God is steadfast in God’s continuous and lifelong love for us. [ii]

Finally, saying, “I am in my Father, and you in me and I in you”

Jesus speaks of the indwelling of God.

We cannot separate Jesus from God and Spirit, and we cannot separate ourselves from God. Sure, we can try, and we do; we walk away or denounce God; we get angry and scream at God. More than once. But God remains steadfast. God persists in being God, and upholding the promise that God is with us.

So trusting what Jesus says here, that God is with us, empowering us, what does it mean to follow Jesus on the move? After all, faith in a living Christ means we are on the move, too.

For the first disciples, eventually, it meant traveling to new places, meeting people who didn’t know Jesus and teaching what he taught. Through the Acts of the Apostles we hear about their travels and persecutions, and how people were being added to the church.

For one man in Umbria in central Italy in the 13^th century, it meant living monastically for three years, before becoming an itinerant, or wandering, preacher who traveled in poverty and faith throughout Italy and to France, Germany, Spain, the Balkans and even to Egypt to share the good news of Christ. We know him today as St. Francis of Assisi.[iii]

For a whole lot of people on Friday night, it meant showing up in the heat at the fairgrounds for Relay for Life, gathering for fellowship, walking the track and reading the names on the luminaries as we celebrated, with thanksgiving, the lives of survivors,

and remembered, with tears, those who have died. But most of all, we were witnessing that death and disease do not get the final word; faith, hope and love are greater.

As we get ready to welcome summer, I invite you to think about where Jesus is on the move with you, in your life and in our community. To help you out, I borrowed an idea from children’s author Jeff Brown who wrote the book Flat Stanley. If you’ve known a first or second grade student in the last few years, you may have come across him. He’s a little boy who becomes flattened and flies through the mail to all kinds of adventures. Today, I have “Flat Jesus” here for you. All ages - you can take him and color him; some people like to laminate their Flat Jesus using clear contact paper or laminating sheets from the office store. That’s up to you.

This summer, take Jesus with you wherever you go, whether your day is filled with the everyday stuff of life, like work or school and errands; or you’re going on vacation, or you’re spending time with family and friends. If you have a phone with a camera, take a picture of “Flat Jesus” with you and send it to me in a text or an email, so we can share all the places Jesus goes this summer.

It may feel silly but laughter and silliness are part of our God-created life too, and it’s a hands-on way to remember that even when Jesus is on the move, he is with us.

Let us pray…

Emmanuel, God with us,

Thank you for the gift of your Son through whom we know your love for us.

Thank you for the gift of your Holy Spirit that we always have an advocate, someone on our side, with us.

Teach us to follow in faith, trusting your promises, and sharing the good news of your grace wherever we go.

Amen.

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[i] Interpreters’ Bible Commentary.

[ii] Moloney.

[iii] Chris Webb. The Fire of the Word.

Fifth Sunday of Easter

Returning to the portion of the letter to the early church that we heard this morning, the author is addressing the persecuted Christian community, encouraging them that God is the cornerstone upon whom the community rests. Our footing is sure, and our basic foundation is solid because it is found in God.

But then, he writes, “like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house….”

I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word “house,” I picture bricks and mortar, like this sanctuary. It’s true that we are cemented together by our common faith; but bricks disintegrate and mortar erodes, so I’m confident there’s more to this metaphor.

The Greek word at the root of both “build” and “house” here is οἶκος. And in addition to referring to construction projects with joists and beams, lintels and doorposts, this language is used to encourage Christians to edify and strengthen each other, and make each other more able to live as a community in Christ.

A spiritual house is not made of bricks and mortar;
instead it is a holy house where God dwells with the people of God,
a living church, filled with living disciples.

Bringing us all together probably gets even messier than a cement mixer at a construction site, but Christianity is a social faith; you can’t freelance it or go solo. Benedictine nun Joan Chittister writes:[i]

In community, we work out our connectedness to God, to one another, and to ourselves. It is in community where we find out who we really are.

It is life with another that shows my impatience and life with another that demonstrates my possessiveness and life with another that gives notice to my nagging devotion to the self. Life with someone else, in other words, doesn’t show me nearly as much about his or her shortcomings, as it does about my own…

In human relationships I learn that theory is not substitute for love. It is easy to talk about the love of God, it is another thing to practice it.

From Genesis on, we see God creating us for relationship.

First, we are created to live in relationship with God, and God loves us so much that God waits on us. Every time God’s people turn away or flee God’s presence, God is patient and waits for us to return.

And, in the meantime, God entrusts us with care for each other, too. Relationships don’t exist in a vacuum; they intertwine, overlap and weave together into a rich tapestry. Some may be more threadbare or worn, and others may be rough and even abrasive, but they are all of one piece, one people.

And because we are real people who live in the real world, we know heartbreak and elation. But together, we form 

a community that sustains us in the midst of suffering, of illness and disease, and in the face of tragic loss and death;

a community that gently corrects us, encourages us and affirms our gifts and talents;
a community that celebrates our achievements and thrills to watch us soar.

And because we are a community of the living and risen Christ,
and not some lifeless edifice, we are created to be life-giving,
not only to the people who gather here regularly, but to our neighbors. For our neighbors who are hurting, hungry or alone, God’s people are called to provide balm for their wounds, food for their bellies and love and mercy for their hearts.

Maybe you remember in the fifth Harry Potter movie when “Dumbledore’s Army” discovered the “room of requirement.”

It was a giant room where the students could practice defensive spells that would be used to fight the enemy, the death eaters. “The room of requirement” was a magical space that was only revealed to a person

“when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker’s needs.”[ii]

It could shift and adapt, and become what the world needed in a specific time and place.

Maybe that’s what it means to be living stones:
to be present for people who have a real need for God and to adapt and become what the world needs, here and now.

Let us pray…
Living God,
Thank you for being steadfast in your love for us
and for forming us into a holy people.
Give us your grace to become living stones, strengthening each other as we live as a community in Christ.
Show us how to be life-giving in a cynical world, that our words and actions would reflect your love and mercy, and not our own selfishness and possessiveness.
We pray in the name of your Son Jesus Christ,
Amen.

[i] Joan Chittister, OSB. Wisdom Distilled from the Daily.
[ii] “Order of the Phoenix.”

Fourth Sunday of Easter

The shepherding imagery woven throughout today’s readings reminds us first that we are a flock, a community gathered together by God, who promises to seek the lost and bring back the stray, to bind up the injured and heal the sick, and to strengthen the weak.

God has formed a covenant with us, promising to provide for us, and confident in God’s promises, we are given responsibility for our neighbors and ourselves, that we will work together to bring about the Kingdom of God here on earth.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus levels criticism at the Pharisees,

echoing a prophecy delivered in Ezekiel 34. There the prophet charges the shepherds, the kings of ancient Israel and Judah, with neglecting the people they were supposed to be caring for. The people given the authority to care for God’s people were, instead, caring too much for themselves. They were eating the fatling and clothing themselves with the wool and letting their people be scattered and preyed upon.

Here, Jesus charges that, instead of being watchmen for the people of God, the religious leaders in Jerusalem were acting as temple gatekeepers, shutting out those who wanted to enter into God’s presence and community.

Jesus tells the Pharisees, “I am the gate for the sheep.”

Remember, when Jesus uses “I am” statements, he is describing who he is as the Son of God. His disciples and the Jewish community would recognize his “I am” as an echo of the declarations that the God of Israel made to Abraham and Moses.

But, what does he mean when he says, “I am the gate.”?

At night, shepherds lead their sheep into a pen or sheephold, protecting them against coyotes and wolves, and the gate is closed behind them to ensure their protection. Today, some people think of this gate like a cattle guard, an open place in a fenceline where the ground is depressed and bars are placed over it so a truck can drive over it, but cows won’t try to cross.[i]

While he’ll go on to make the more familiar statement, “I am the good shepherd,” that’s not the claim Jesus makes here. He expands his statement, saying, “whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.”

Returning to the image of the flock who has rested overnight in safety; in the morning, the gate is opened and they are led out again to find water and grass.[ii]

When Jesus says, “I am the gate,” you can be assured that this gate doesn’t lock behind you trapping you, and it isn’t a gate with heavy iron bars that imprison you.

Instead, in Jesus, you find a gate that swings easily,
granting you freedom to come in; to seek safety and refuge from thieves that threaten your peace; and, then,
to go out again, refreshed and strengthened for what lies ahead.

Too often, religious authorities — including our churches and congregations — forget Jesus’ words and we take on the role of gatekeeper, erecting barriers or obstacles to control who comes and goes, making judgments about who belongs and who doesn’t.

Here, Jesus reminds us that that’s not our job.

If we’ve been given any authority at all, it is to gather the flock to feed, heal and strengthen. Not, in the words of Ezekiel, to ravage people as we “push with our flanks and shoulders” or “butt with our horns.”[iii]

Other times, we lock ourselves behind closed gates, afraid of the unknown and suspicious of those who are different from us. But, here’s the thing, when we stay hidden, we are cut off from the green pasture and all the good gifts that God has given us to nourish us.

Jesus is the gate and we are the flock. Today, at Dylan’s baptism and in the affirmation of baptism for the Turners that we will celebrate in a few minutes, we are reminded what our responsibilities as God’s people really are:
to live among God's faithful people,
to hear the word of God and share in the Lord's supper,
to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed,
to serve all people, following the example of Jesus,
and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth.

May we always remember that Jesus comes that we may have life as God’s people, and, knowing that God calls us each by name, trust in God’s promises.

Let us pray…
Shepherding God,
We give you thanks for your Son Jesus who reveals your love and mercy for us.
Free us from the illusion that we are in control and help us to welcome everyone who comes seeking you and needing nurture and care.
Lead us by your Holy Spirit to places of rest and refreshment and strengthen us to go into the world as your people.
Amen.

[i] https://revgalblogpals.org/2017/05/02/cattle-guard-jesus/, accessed May 6, 2017
[ii] http://pres-outlook.org/category/ministry-resources/looking-into-the-lectionary/, accessed May 6, 2017
[iii] Ezekiel 34:21

Third Sunday of Easter

For several months now, when the congregation council meets, we begin with a time of prayer and conversation around questions focused on “living every day as disciples” [of Jesus] in and through our ministry here at Ascension.

Most recently, we were talking about the joy of new life and what that looks like in our congregation. Next Sunday, we will celebrate a baptism of one of our children and in June, the baby for whom we’ve been praying is due. Certainly young children and baptisms are welcome signs of new life, but they are not the only place where we see new life taking root:

• We are building a little free pantry that will provide our neighbors the personal care items that SNAP and EBT don’t cover; 
• We are establishing a public prayer garden between the church and the columbarium to provide a quiet place for reflection and meditation; 
• We are confirming four of our middle school students on Pentecost in June, honoring the promises we made at their baptisms to support them and pray for them; 
• and we are paying attention to what it means to live wholly and well in all the different areas of our lives, whether it’s financial, physical, emotional, intellectual or spiritual matters.

God is birthing new things in our midst and in our lives.

In the epistle today the author speaks of what is being born anew in us when we receive the inheritance of faith and God’s love – that inheritance that we heard described last week as “imperishable, undefiled and unfading.”

Today, we hear again the word “imperishable” only this time it is describing not God’s love for us, but the nature of what is planted in us by God.

Do you remember the parable of the sower that shows up in both Luke 8 and Mark 4?

The sower goes out to sow, intending to plant in a particular place, but the seed falls in other places, too. Often we hear this parable as a charge to the church,
but I tend to think, instead,
that God, who is always the actor, is the sower, and we are more likely the ground. There are parts of us that are all of the things described in the parable — trampled, rocky, thorny and good — but the seed of the Good News is still sown into each one of us.

In the portion of the letter we read today, the comparison is made between the perishable seed and the imperishable seed, and the author affirms that what is planted in us is the latter – the imperishable seed.

Perishable seeds are like the most transient of spring flowers, the brightly colored annuals that fade and die.

But imperishable seed is like the seed from morning glories that falls off and lands on the ground, blooming again even more boldly the next season.

As the recipients of this imperishable seed, the living and transformational Word of God, sometimes we feel well-watered – confident of God’s care – and other times we feel parched and dry – separated somehow from God’s presence.

Remember though that God is the one who’s active here:

Regardless of our condition, God’s Word is at work in us and we are born anew, just as God is at work in our congregation and community, making all things new and stirring up new life in our ministries and lives.

Let us pray…
Holy God,
Help us discern what is perishable in our lives that it will not distract us.
Open our hearts to receive your imperishable love, and life-giving Word.
May your Holy Spirit direct us toward the new life that you are stirring among us.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior we pray.
Amen.