July 22, 2012 MARK 6:30-34 NRSV

Rev. Halliburton                                                                       July 22, 2012

MARK 6:30-34 NRSV

³⁰The apostles gathered around Jesus,

and told him all that they had done and taught. 

³¹He said to them,

"Come away to a deserted place

all by yourselves

and rest a while."

For many were coming and going,

and they had no leisure even to eat. 

³²And they went away in the boat

 to a deserted place by themselves. 

³³Now many saw them going and recognized them,

 and they hurried there on foot from all the towns

and arrived ahead of them.

³⁴As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd;

and he had compassion for them,

 because they were like sheep without a shepherd;

and he began to teach them many things.

***

Some of us need the reminder to go out among the villages, preaching, teaching and healing. Others of us need the reminder to come away to deserted place. Some of us need to reminder to rest awhile. We need the reminder that Jesus remains at work while we rest.

The disciples have come back from being sent out by Jesus. They have been on the go for at least two weeks of the lectionary. They have traveled, stayed in stranger’s homes, preached, proclaimed the gospel, and healed the sick. They were so busy that they were unable to even eat in leisure. I think many of us can relate: grabbing a bagel on the way to school, eating in the car, or at our desk, turning the ritual of a meal together into simple sustenance for survival. This was not a relaxing vacation for the disciples. They were gone traveling on business. They needed a vacation from their vacation, so Jesus sent them out to a deserted place.

Jesus sent them out on a boat. I imagine it was the only place they could truly get way, the middle of the lake, surrounded by nothing but waves, water, and wooden vessel. The middle of the lake - its today’s trip that takes you out of town, or out of cell phone range, and if you’ve done it right, you’ve left your laptop at home too. Where is your middle of the lake? When’s the last time you went there? Is Sunday for an hour enough, or do you need to head up to Anthony where the only pestering you’ll get is from the mosquitoes. When’s the last time you went to a deserted place, a place where the call of, “Mom,” or “Dad,” is silent. Have you sent your kids to a deserted place, where you are not the one they are relying on? When is last time you have been in the wilderness?

The summer before this one, I drove alone from Colorado Springs to Glacier National Park. Will couldn’t go, and I figured it was my last chance being so close (over a thousand miles away close that is). I played my favorite tunes in the car, and was thoroughly enjoying myself until I reached Blackfeet Native American Reservation outside the park. Like so many reservations it was a sad, neglected, and run down place. It was here my car decided to start making noises I had never heard before. I may not be terrified to drive a thousand miles across the country and camp by myself, but walking into an unknown car mechanic with an unknown problem terrified me, as did the lack of respectable looking motels. At that point, I decided this trip was the dumbest thing I could have done alone. I turned off the car, and probably cussed more than I prayed. I called Will with the last bits of cell phone juice, in waves of poor and poorer reception. There was nothing he could do from a thousand miles away, but listen to my fearful tears. Afterward, I turned the car on and the noise was gone. Perhaps then I prayed.

I came to the Glacier Park Visitor’s Center and they told me the last campground that might have a spot. I drove off the beaten path, with our little Honda, and pulled into a tiny campground. As I drove up two women, a little older than me, were reserving a site on the board. Encouraged, I circled around; discouraged, I circled around again. There was nothing. In last hopes, I got out and looked at the board. I was choking back tears. I did not want to go back to the sketchy motels, I did not want to camp on the side of the road and be awaked by an officer asking me to move. This truly was the dumbest idea to go out into the wilderness alone. The two women were watching. “Do y’all know if there is any place to camp?” They shook their heads no, and my tears welled up. A shaky, “thanks,” was all I could muster. I walked toward the car, in order to have a good cry alone. Then one of them walked up and said, “You can camp with us.” It was one of those moments where no amount of, ‘thank yous,’ could have ever been enough. They were truly saints to me. We had a Stone Soup sort of meal: I with chili and a Coleman stove, they with a can opener. We parted ways in the morning, and from then on my trip was amazing. I hiked my own pace on trails I chose, walked alone in the woods, and wrote liturgy by a lake. I took time to take pictures of little tiny things, and listened to the whisper of wind, and crackle of campfire. It was, without apology, the best vacation I’ve ever had.

It would have been easy to stay home. I, like many of you, had to-do lists on which tasks merely transferred from one clean sheet to the next – never fully finished, never totally crossed out. I suppose in some ways going to Glacier was just another one of those tasks, but at least it was a task to give myself a Sabbath instead of do more. I think Sabbath is the task the disciples are given. If they stay on the land the people will just keep coming. The list will always grow. There will always be people to heal, and the poor will always be with us. We can take weeks to proclaim the gospel, but when we come back to our Lord, he orders us rest.

As the disciples rested in the boat, the people followed on foot on the land. They came from all the towns, and by the time the boat landed on the opposite shore, a great crowd had arrived ahead of it. Its like the pile of e-mail upon returning home from a trip, it is like laundry to be done, people to get back in touch with and visit, yet it is more. Lined up were all the people in need of Jesus, in need of healing, in need of the Word of our Lord. The feeding of the 5,000 comes next in the scripture; a multitude is gathered. The disciples will eventually have to get out of the boat, but for now, it is Jesus who goes ahead. He has compassion for the people, who were like sheep without a Shepard. He goes out to the oppressed, and the alone, the sick, and the poor, those in need of hope, and those in need of grace. He is still at work, while the disciples take rest, while they remain in the vessel just a tiny bit longer.

It is a reminder to the disciples, and to us that Jesus remains at work when we need rest. That even in the midst of our Sabbath, Jesus reminds us that he is with the sheep without a shepard, the lost sheep without a car mechanic, a campsite, or even a can opener. That perhaps when Sabbath to a deserted place seems like the dumbest idea of a lifetime, Jesus, through the saints both meets our need for Sabbath, and the world’s need of healing.

Sometimes we need the counter cultural reminder to be sent out relying on a stranger’s welcome, other times we need the counter cultural reminder to go out into a strange place alone, in search of rest. While we travel in the midst of strangers, and rest in the middle of the lake, Jesus remains at work sheparding the people. So, where’s your middle of the lake, and when’s the last time you went to a deserted place, and have you trusted Jesus to be at work while you were away?

July 15, 2012 EPHESIANS 1:3-14 NRSV

Rev. Halliburton                                                                       July 15, 2012

EPHESIANS 1:3-14 NRSV

³Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

who has blessed us in Christ

with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, 

⁴just as he chose us in Christ

before the foundation of the world

 to be holy and blameless before him in love.

 ⁵He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ,

 according to the good pleasure of his will,

 ⁶to the praise of his glorious grace

that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. 

⁷In him we have redemption through his blood,

 the forgiveness of our trespasses,

according to the riches of his grace

⁸that he lavished on us.

With all wisdom and insight 

⁹he has made known to us the mystery of his will,

 according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 

¹⁰as a plan for the fullness of time,

 to gather up all things in him,

things in heaven and things on earth.

 ¹¹In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance,

having been destined

according to the purpose of him

who accomplishes all things

according to his counsel and will,

 ¹²so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ,

might live for the praise of his glory.

 ¹³In him you also,

when you had heard the word of truth,

the gospel of your salvation,

and had believed in him,

were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; 

¹⁴this is the pledge of our inheritance

 toward redemption as God's own people,

 to the praise of his glory.

***

I wonder if you know what it means to be adopted by God. As someone who is adopted, this phrase means more to me than any other in the entire Bible. It speaks to me of a mystery I know well, and yet it leaves me in awe and sheer wonder of such grace, grace that is set before us all. If I can convey to you a modicum of this emotion, if I can convey to you one line of the list from Ephesians, then the Holy Spirit will have shed its grace. This my friends, is the promise of our baptism: we are adopted by God.

I am not usually one to believe in destiny. Usually, I think of God taking the pieces we are given and growing them into something miraculous, rather than some miraculous plan laid out that we simply follow. Yet, when I think of my adoption, and my later call, there is something of God’s destiny to be seen in the looking backward over my life. When I look at the mystery of my own adoption, I know God was at work in some miraculous ways. The miracle is not that I’m adopted. The miracle is that God adopted me, and has adopted each one of you.

My parents were unable to have children. They wanted someone they could tuck in, and someone to read to. They wanted a child to love and raise so they decided to seek adoption. At that time in the state of Texas, a place never known for its separation of church and state, they had to obtain a minister’s signature in order to adopt a child. Therefore, my parents decided they ought to try going to church. They liked the Universalists but figured it wouldn’t count in Texas. So, instead they found the black sheep of the Presbytery.  A pastor, named Bill Mounts, is pictured in some of the first photographs of my life. His signature linked my life to the worship of God before I was even known. He was the first of many pastors at that church to make an indelible mark on my life. I have to wonder if God had a hand in Rev. Mounts signing those papers. I have to wonder if God had a hand in bringing my parents to church. I have to wonder if God had a hand in choosing St. Andrew in San Antonio. I think God did have a hand in all this, and I think it's one of the amazing parts about our adoption by God. God adopts us and is at work in our lives before we are even born. Before we are known, we are blessed by God, and called God’s own.

When we baptize a child, it is not about us claiming what that child believes. It is about God claiming that child, and loving that child, before the child was even formed. It’s about the spiritual blessing in the heavenly places that each of us has, and has had all of our lives and before our lives even began, because we are adopted by God. Before your mother knew you existed, God created you and loved you. Before you ever saw your brothers or sisters, you were a sibling to Christ. Before you took your first breath, the breath of the Holy Spirit was preparing a life for you. It doesn’t mean my, or your childhood was prefect, or even good, but it means it was blessed by God, and that God was at work. Are there ways in which you can see God’s work in preparing your life for you? Are there ways in which Christ was drawing you close as a child? How might the Holy Spirit have been at work before your coming into the world?

I was born of two teenagers, ages fifteen and sixteen, and first cousins. My birth-mom was the daughter of  a prominent city councilmen, and a very Catholic mother who had once studied to become a nun. There were many reasons why I could not stay. My birth-grandfather, the city councilmen, went through papers of perspective adoptive families. When he read my parents, he stopped and said, “This is it. Here they are.” His wife asked if he ought to read the rest of the papers, but he knew, and I wonder if God knew too. I wonder if God knew that in me was a penchant for public speaking and community leadership like my city councilmen birth-grandfather. I wonder if God knew that in me was a spiritual streak like my almost nun birth-grandmother. I wonder if God knew there was a rebellious curiosity streak in me like there was in my birthmother. I wonder if God knew her shame. I wonder if God knew the pain of my birthmother never getting to hold me. I wonder if God knew the love and the loss with which they gave me to another family. I believe God knew this all. God knew I had a bent to become a pastor, with a curious rebellious streak, just as God knows each of the hairs on our very heads. God knows us that intimately. God loves us that closely. You are known by God inside and out, head to toe, and including the fingerprints on your feet. God loves you so much to know you this closely, and God loves you even after knowing you this closely. When you feel misunderstood and completely unknown, God understands you and knows you completely. God also knows us in our shame, like that of my birthmother. When you have done something you deem unforgivable, God has forgiven you, and God’s grace is working for redemption. God also knows the love and loss of my birth families, because God, the Father, God like a mother in labor, gave God’s only son. That we might be adopted in Christ, that we might know God’s love on earth in the Beloved. We share in the blessing of Christ’s baptism when the heavens opened up, and a dove descended, and God said, “This is my Son, with whom I am well pleased.” God also extended this blessing to us. We, just like Christ, are also are God’s own children, whom God watches over and loves. We have been adopted by God. And through Christ we are brothers and sisters.

My sister’s name is Diana. We look nothing alike. She is adopted too. Her story has mysteries like my own, and grace like my own too. God is at work in her as an artist and a counselor. But that is her story to tell. Mine is that she is grace to me. Though we fought like normal sisters growing up, she is my best friend. I would not have known her without God’s mysterious grace that put us together in the same family as sisters. I tell you, it is the same with you and I, and you and the person next to you, and the person across the aisle from you, and the person in a pew across the world from here. God’s adoption has truly made us family. What mysterious circumstances brought each of us to this place in this time to worship together? What mysterious grace that the people in these pews have been family to us? We are family. We may sometimes fight like siblings, but we are unavoidably and graciously brothers and sisters. This is God’s adoption, a family reunion every Sunday, sharing the holidays together, raising each other’s kids as our own, gathering for funerals, marking life moments with one another, watching little ones grow, and adults grow old. This is our family. We are family. God has adopted us.

We are marked with the seal of adoption, our papers are signed, our spiritual gifts come with us and God knows them. God has given us God’s Son in Christ, and our family brothers and sisters in Christ. Our response to these inherited blessings is our pledge of thanksgiving. Our response to grace of our adoption is to praise God with our life. When I look back on my adoption story, I see the mysterious ways God has graciously adopted me, in response I am called to live my life in worship of God. Likewise, God has adopted each one of you, and you are called to life lived in praise of God. Do you know what it means to be adopted by God? To humbly grasp even a modicum of this emotion, or just one line from Ephesians sets us on path to respond as those alive in the Holy Spirit. We are adopted by God. Thanks Be to God.  

July 8th 2012 MARK 6:6-13 NRSV

 MARK 6:6-13 NRSV

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 

He said to them,

"Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 

If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you,

as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet

as a testimony against them." 

So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

***

In my life, I have been outside the faith. I was an odd mix of Southern atheist and child of the church. People proselytized and evangelized; I was both pushed away and welcomed in. I was told I was wrong with the punishment of hell, and also told faith was a journey always circling between different stages of belief. I was condemned for my lack of faith and loved as church family. I saw the painful hypocrisy of exclusion and the Christ-like love of inclusion. I witnessed the type of witnessing that works, and the type that breaks whatever was once working.

As a Christian I still see this pattern of condemning proselytization vs. persuasive evangelism. Since becoming one inside the faith, my call has often been to those, ‘outside.’ I tend to agree with these, ‘outsiders,’ more than many of my fellow Christians. As a window between the in and outside, I often explain the inside with phrases such as, “Not all Christians believe that.” or “Being a Christian is the goal, being a sinner is the reality,” or simply, “I don’t think anyone really knows the answer to x, y or z.” I take the role of trying to balance the boundlessness of God’s divinity with our bound human reality.

As one who loves this Christian calling, I must acknowledge the pain Christianity has caused others today and throughout history. I must also acknowledge my own part in both the grace of my calling, and the sinfulness of my being. In order to hold this weight, I pray my words and my life reflect my faith, and my sinfulness reflect my common humanity. As a church leader, my call is to the proclamation of the gospel, yet, I am, just as much as anyone, prone to mistakes and failings. Therefore, I, just as much as each you, must attempt to be humble, to listen, to speak carefully, and to wipe the dust off my feet in pursuit of the proclamation of the gospel. This the call of the 12 in this Mark passage: humility, listening, speaking carefully, wiping off the dust, testifying against, repenting, casting out, healing, anointing, curing.

The disciples are called first to humility. First they are to be humble before Jesus. Jesus calls them to him, and Jesus sends them out. It is he to whom they come, and from he they are sent out. Likewise, are we are to come to Jesus and be sent out. Have you come to Jesus and stood ready and open to be sent out in whatever direction he may point? This itself is an amazing feat of obedience. I am sure the disciples each had their own ideas of where they wanted to go, and with whom they would travel best. I wonder if Jesus paired them so they would share authority. I can just imagine one disciple reminding the other it’s about Jesus, not us. I can imagine them also supporting one another along the way.

I wonder too if his directions and destinations for the pairs was in order to keep remind them of his authority? I am sure some wanted to stay where they were, and others simply wanted to follow beside Jesus. In my own call process, I ruled out huge swaths of the Deep South. Can you imagine the Disciples similarity negotiating with Jesus? What negotiations have you made with our Lord? How might these negotiations put your wisdom before his? If we are unwilling to put Jesus first, how can we be sure it is his call we are following? If we are unwilling to put Jesus first, how can we be sure it is his Wisdom we are proclaiming? When we speak to others about our faith, they all too often see our hypocrisy. When we speak to others about our faith, they all too often see our humanity and not God’s divinity. The first step to the proclamation of our faith must be our humility before Jesus in our own life. The second step to the proclamation of our faith must be our humility to recognize our own humanity, which so often stands against Jesus’ wisdom.

Jesus’ second set of directions to the disciples was to practice humility in their relationship with others. He striped them of their worldly power and forced them to rely on the generosity of those to whom they were to proclaim the gospel. The disciples had neither food, nor money; they carried nothing except for a staff and the clothes they wore. Can you imagine? I just got back from a trip, and although I had no more than a carry-on and a purse I had tons more than the disciples. I had gifts for my hosts, money for expenses, snacks for when I was hungry, and clothes for different days and weather. I imagined if I were a disciple I would have to show up empty handed. I would be homeless, hungry and walking. I would be praying for the welcome of others, possibly strangers. I would need shelter, food, and even a change of clothes to wash my own. As someone who has never taken the homeless in my own home, it is hard to imagine my being homeless and welcomed in. I would be humbly, even helplessly, asking for my basic needs. This is the power structure of the disciples and those to whom they disciple.

I wonder if we too disciple best when we are not ones in power. What if instead of proclaiming the gospel from our own homes, or even our church home, we instead went out seeking to be welcomed in another’s home? This switched paradigm strips us of our power both of place in these walls, and number as a congregation. This switched paradigm gives the other, the outsider the power. They are their place of comfort; they are head of the table and the conversation; we, as a humble guest, we must learn about them, and watch their social cues in order to share our story. We also are graced with their kindness as our host, and therefore, with thankfulness, we can share our faith in love. The outsider should become someone inside your heart, someone you respect, and see as an equal, before you can share your faith with them. If not, the power you hold over the other will easily push them away. So what if our outreach was not only how well we welcome those who come through our sanctuary doors but also how well we are welcomed in doors of others? What if instead of a strong handshake and a good Presbyterian sermon, we went out two by two, seeking to be welcomed by others.

It’s a lot harder of a paradigm; we are not in control. We must be the guest, rather than the host. We also must be willing also to face rejection. The disciples were told, “If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you…” The disciples were reminded that they, at times, would be un-welcomed. I like that Jesus did not say being refused was always the host’s fault. Jesus leaves the refusal open for the disciples to be able to question their own motives and actions. It serves as a reminder that with the responsibility for proclaiming the gospel comes the responsibility for how we proclaim the gospel.

How we deal with rejection also allows us to proclaim the gospel. Jesus tells the disciples, “as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them." The disciples are not told to cause violence, verbally degrade, or publicly humiliate someone. What they are told to do is in fact not for the other person at all. Shaking the dust from their feet was a way for the disciples to testify to what happened and move on without making a mark. Jesus recognized the hurt of rejection, especially when we make ourselves vulnerable and share our faith, something close to our heart. Jesus allows us to testify against those who reject us, yet we must do this without rejecting them. We must leave and wipe the dust from feet. We must keep following Jesus’ direction for us and remember his authority. This type of reaction is not submissive but subversive. Perhaps in leaving in this way, the disciples proclaimed the gospel and offered those who rejected them another glimpse. I know in my own life as an atheist, I was more willing to listen and be open with those who did not reject me, or leave bashing me. I know in my life as a Christian, those who are outside are more willing to remain in dialogue with me when I do not reject them or their beliefs. Perhaps how we deal with rejection can be a way of proclaiming the gospel. Perhaps as we move in the direction Jesus sent us, we show whose authority we live under.

Lastly, the disciples used Jesus’ authority to serve others. He gave them authority over unclean spirits and they cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. This was their call. This too is evangelism. Evangelism is not only about talking the talk, but also about walking the walk. So often our service in the world is what brings people to Jesus. Quiet a few of our newest members were brought to this church because of work in mission of some of our members. For my own faith, I saw my home church doing good in the world and in their community, and even as an atheist I knew something transcendent was going on. Let them know about Christ by our love. Let our service be our proclamation of the gospel. Does your call in this life, your job, your time spent in retirement, your life at home, your life outside your home reflect the call of the disciples? What unclean Spirits and demons to you cast out? Who do you anoint with oil? Who do you seek to cure? Is your tithe to the church enough, or do you need to go out of your comfort zone with only a friend, a staff, and a tunic.

This the call of the 12: humility before Jesus and before neighbor, listening, speaking carefully, wiping off the dust, testifying, repenting, casting out, healing, anointing, curing. This is our call to proclaim the gospel.