February 21, 2016 1 Corinthians 3.16 - 32

Some Context: Paul is writing to the churches in Corinth because they have been splitting over who their teacher was, be it Paul himself, or followers of Apollos or Cephas, etc. The following is Paul’s admonition against splitting and reminder that they all belong to God. Listen now for the Word of the Lord:


Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?
If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person.
For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.
Do not deceive yourselves. If you think that you are wise in this age,
you should become fools so that you may become wise.
For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. For it is written,
“God catches the wise in their craftiness,” and again,
“The Lord knows the thoughts of the wise, that they are futile.”
So let no one boast about human leaders.
For all things are yours,
whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas
or the world or life or death
or the present or the future
—all belong to you,
and you belong to Christ,
and Christ belongs to God.

***
It would be easy to begin this sermon by articulating I spent Saturday at a Presbytery meeting, and for you to expect a litany of boring reports. Presbytery is the representative governing body of the Presbyterian Church in Eastern Oregon, and there were moments as folks made motions upon motions, and amendments to motions, that I wondered if God was in parsing of church polity. Like mosquitoes, it was hard to decipher it’s usefulness. And like the bitten, I usually refrain from close examination and active participation of seconding motions, and, “all in favors.” I like being Presbyterian and at most times, I feel like I imagine the people of Corinth do, that there is a lot right about this leading body, call it Paul, or Apollos or Presbyterian. I like whom we are allowed to marry and ordain, myself included, but I like that people are allowed to disagree, I like the way the church mimics the checks and balances of the U.S. Government, I like the way we are encouraged to think and reason knowing we have a brain and a Bible. I like a lot of things. But sometimes, I think we as Presbyterian get boggled down in our own system. We get bogged down thinking, the way we have always done it is the only way.

At Presbytery, we had been discussing Pilot Rock Presbyterian Church, which had sent along a request to leave the denomination over theological differences with the national church. Folks in the Presbytery were sad, and frustrated, having spent time, like Jim Kauth has, preaching and visiting, and moderating their session the local governing body, taking communion together and being a family in Eastern Oregon Presbytery. It was like a couple who says they are trying to work things out and then send a text saying, we no longer wish to remain in the denomination with you. I have recently heard this same grief stricken hurt from my parents in San Antonio over the split of those who desire to remain Presbyterian and those who wish to leave. Congregants have left that church for theological reasons, but they have been missed for personal reasons. They are a family, and my parents miss that place where the pew remains empty. The trips that they still try to take together as friends have an unspoken divide. My parents speak in “us and them” terms, and hide behind theologies to mask a deeper loss of family that no longer shares communion. At Presbytery, a motion was passed to send an Administrative Committee to Pilot Rock to seek reconciliation, and if necessary bring forth to the Presbytery a recommendation for dismissal from the denomination. While I think seeking understanding is important, and reconciliation would be paramount, I also know that God made us unique, that whether we are Paul’s and Presbyterian, or Apollos and some non-denominational church, or Cephas and Catholic, we all belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. Perhaps, because I am younger, I don’t get so caught up in the who’s who of labels; I just want people to fit where they feel most comfortable and can grow. I want my parents to have a church that feeds them rather than drains them, while they agree theologically with their church, it might be too much of a former battlefield in which to worship, and I want their friendships to be likewise. You can have either with an ‘us and them,’ mentality. We all belong to Christ and Christ belongs to God.

Then at Presbytery, it was time to hear from Monument, which was clumped together with Pilot Rock. A middle aged rancher, with light eyes and freckles from the sun, stood up and told how he’d, “grow’d up,” in the church. And ashamedly, with that phrase, I prepared myself for what I expected to be a theological treatise on how the Presbyterian Church USA was no longer Bible based, or held family values etc. He talked of Sunday School, putting his hand just so, as you would top of the head of a little boy. He spoke of waxing and waning congregations using the building and the problems that ensued. My favorite line of his was one of the preacher running off with another man’s wife, and the treasurer stealing the church’s money - all of which sounded to be the same people. Perhaps it was at this point, I saw a more measured speech then I expected, one that was not one sided, but more evenhanded. He spoke of the need for whatever happened to have structure like the Presbyterian Church. I liked that that was what he held to, and as a rancher structure suited him. He talked of being trustworthy enough to talk to people about God, and God’s in his life. I kept listening for what was under the surface, but I couldn’t hear him saying he, or they, the few remaining members, wanted to leave the denomination. He was saying, don’t get rid of our building, (as all church property is owned by the Presbytery rather than the local church). He said, that though a church is not a building, it has been a place for Christians in Monument for a century, and I was reminded of this scripture, that as people we are God’s temple, and our spaces are built for service and worship to God. He really wanted God in that place, in Monument and was there at this Presbytery Meeting to stand for that.

Then the Clerk of Presbytery explained how long he and others had spent trying to help this church, and all the requirements the congregation had not met to count as a viable congregation. The Clerk mentioned legitimate things like the need for worshiping at least four times a year with communion, having a session, etc. But I wondered too about what I call, “rules,” and perhaps the scripture calls the wisdom of this world. Rules are meant to foster relationships with God, not to shut that relationship down. I thought about the PCUSA moment of 1001 Worshiping Communities, groups of people who meet in coffee shops, or for dance practice, or to serve the community in one way or another, and wondered if those rules were different. Then a woman from Monument got up and explained they wanted God to continue there. I thought about how sad it would feel to be asking the Presbytery for help, for wanting to remain. The thought broke my heart, not just saying no, but the idea of even having to ask, to want to be a church, to want to be a part and to be told no. Then Roger Fisk, their former pastor, and member of Presbytery addressed how the Presbytery had left them, having once been a Mission area with a circuit preacher and when that was taken away by the Presbytery, the church lacked that structure and began to dry up, all but these few. I wondered how this church might become sustainable on their own. I thought about how Baker City was begun by four women in 1884 and how here were six, holding on in Monument. I thought about the hurt and pain, and why for the local branch of the PCUSA to give up on them. Then another woman said that decisions and conversations with Monument and Presbytery were made through e-mail and there was a need to explore in person, face-to-face. I thought, “of course, I would have hoped there would have been lots of face-to-face time, lots of sharing a meal, listening to stories, hopes and dreams.” Then another woman from Monument stood up and tearfully said, “We are asking for help. We want to stay Presbyterian. We just need some creativity and some ideas.” In my head I literally pictured myself raising my hand - I can do creativity.

I raised it and honestly, being the youngest member of Presbytery, was surprised when I was called on next in front of older and longer established members. I stood up and asked, “Maybe I am missing something, or there is something we aren’t talking about, but at the beginning of our meeting we looked at the map of churches in the Presbytery and we wondered where we might even add churches. Here we have a group of people who want to remain a part of the Presbyterian Church, who have come here in person, who are asking us for help.” I said, “I know I can do creative, I am not so good at the structure part,” of which the rancher spoke, “but I think there are people in this room who can do that.”

Then, the moderator asked me to make a motion, deer in headlights. I said, “I was just naming what I was noticing. I don’t know if that is how the body feels, remember I do creativity.” Others spoke, in agreement, while Jim Kauth kneeled beside me, and he whispered, “Would you be willing to serve on a committee for this?” “Yes.” I said without hesitation, except for the time it may mean I spend away from Baker City. I felt called. I wanted to go and listen to these people who had traveled from Monument to Milton-Freewater to try to save their church. I wanted to support them, to have a meal with them, to listen to them and the community, to hear their dreams, to listen to their gifts, to learn from them. I figured too, and I am asking, for you to support me in this as well. Because I don’t think we are Baker, or Monument, Pilot Rock, or Pendleton, Paul’s or Apollos, we belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. I even wonder, if any of you feel called to join me?

Then Keith Hudson, the pastor in LaGrande, came and asked me the same question, with the admonition, “I will join you Katy.” I again whispered, “Yes, I will serve,” and Keith, the structure one, made the motion. There were tears both from the Presbytery and the people from Monument, as well as some murmurs from those who had tried on previous committees and been unable to come to a resolution. Keith and I walked over and introduced ourselves after the meeting. The rancher said to Keith, we have a cabin you have a place whenever you need after a meeting. A woman came up to me and said, I will cook for you and we will have dinner together. Isn’t this what we are supposed to do? Isn't this what it’s about? I think this is how Jesus would have it, and I

February 14, 2016 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

So we are ambassadors for Christ, 

since God is making God’s appeal through us; 

we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. 

For our sake the Lord made him to be sin who knew no sin, 

so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 

As we work together with him, 

we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. 

For God says, 

“At an acceptable time I have listened to you,

 and on a day of salvation I have helped you.” 

See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! 

We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, 

so that no fault may be found with our ministry, 

but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: 

through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; 

by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God; 

with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; 

in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. 

We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; 

as unknown, and yet are well known; 

as dying, and see—we are alive; 

as punished, and yet not killed; 

as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; 

as poor, yet making many rich; 

as having nothing, and yet possessing everything. 

***
They said, one side will loose and the other will win. That if Session, the governing body of this church, decided to hire a full-time youth director, those who wanted to retain the purchasing power of our endowment would loose, namely the Finance Committee. The Finance Committee feared the church would loose part of its character if it continued to spend down the endowment. Where would be the ability to support our flagship programs and ministries and the building which sustains them? What would become of Open Door, without a sustained endowment? Where would the kids who walked to school in the earliest of morning find shelter, warmth, caring adults and breakfast to fill their bellies? Without an endowment what would youth ministry look like in ten years when Jake is a junior and May is ready for her first Mission Trip? What would our building look like without an extra pocket from which to fix sewer lines and a boiler someday to break? People feared that without an endowment, these things would cease and our church would be less.

We said, one side will loose and the other will win. That if session decided to retain the purchasing power of the endowment, we would have no full-time youth director. That without a full-time youth director our youth would go to a different church, that the burden of organizing would fall to the parents, that youth would have no one to call in a tough situation. People believed that without a youth director, our youth ministry would cease, and our church would be less.

We said, one side will loose and the other will win, and there are ways I hoped neither would win. I think the future of the church is neither dependent on an endowment, nor a youth director, but instead the stewardship of its people, the creative movement of the Spirit, and the unbounded grace of God. There are ways, we have used both the endowment and having a paid full-time youth director as crutches to bolster up our failing stewardship. Failing stewardship of finances that rely’s on an endowment to fill in the gaps of ministries we deem essential, while the number of people pledging has dropped by _ since last year with no easy answers as to why besides forgetfulness. A failing stewardship of time and talents, that have relied on a youth director to fill in the gaps of relational ministry and program organization, while we have congregants asking to be involved with our youth and not knowing how to plug in. I worried too about a failing stewardship of trust in the steadfastness of God and the creativity of the Spirit. The doomsday predictions aforementioned, that feared anything different than how it has been done. The doomsday predictions of having to do budgeting, or youth director recruiting and do them now. I worried that if either won we wouldn’t be relying on God’s unfathomable ability to transform us beyond our imagining in God’s time. I felt if we couldn’t do this, eventually our church would cease.

The thing is, instead of some people winning and other’s loosing, everyone won. The scripture reads,

As we work together with Christ,
we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain.
For God says,

“At an acceptable time I have listened to you,
and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”

See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!
We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way,
so that no fault may be found with our ministry,
but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way.

The first way we commended ourselves as servants of God was to wait, through great endurance, and some sleepless nights, we postponed our budgeting four months from November to February. It seems easy to say but it required not only the practicalities of interim budgets but the patience to wait for the right answer despite questions from the regional office.
The second way we commended ourselves as servants of God was to show up. All together there were six visioning meetings, some specifically for thinking about how to use our endowment, some for looking at our youth ministry, others for defining our church values and priorities. These then helped guide our discussions and inform our Session elders about where our heart and energy was and who we felt called to be as a people of God. We feel called to show God’s love, to the community through service and to one another. We feel called to our youth and our kids, and to be a family young and old together. We want to learn and grow in our faith and to be able to ask questions. We want to be inclusive of all.
The third way we commended ourselves as servants of God was to pray and discern, to pray and discern, and this was the part where the Spirit began to sneak in and by the time the Session met to set the proposed budget the Spirit was alive and moving. Each session member prayed in one word for what they hoped the meeting would bring, concencus, wisdom, creativity, hope, listening, and so on, and by the end of the meeting everyone’s prayer had been answered and I don’t think any of us expected it. We set the budget all except for the youth director and related line items, and I asked, should we total them up and see where we are? Then Lynn, the representative of the Finance Committee, those whose charge is to oversee the finances of the church and care for the endowment, said no. We should wait and as a group figure out what is best for the youth ministry of the church and then see how it works financially. And in that moment I saw how we had grown in our faith. It was the willingness to not let our finances dictate our ministry but to let our ministry dictate our finances knowing we could figure something out financially if we were following God’s call to our ministries. Each person on session spoke. Annie courageously challenged us to be more welcoming and to encourage people to share their gifts and in that moment Shirley lifted up Annie’s courage. Bryson gave thoughtful perspectives as a youth really rolling around different questions, critiques, and scenarios in his head and then speaking from his heart. That and his pencil and paper math skills rival LaVonne and her clicking calculator. Ginger, having led the youth group with Sharon Defrees as a volunteer, spoke with conviction about the ministry and depth program but also the realities of organization. Others talked about including younger kids as part of the ministry and doing more things intergenerationally. Then Karen, who does much listening offered up an idea she had heard in talking with her son in Boise about having an intern having graduated college, or perhaps mid-seminary to come. The church could be a place for teaching, and then it would be easier financially support a full-time position.
In that moment the Spirit was dancing, like watch this, I am going to spin around using all these things you already have a vibrant twirl for love of youth, and patterned out step for the personnel procedures that have been planned, a hands up for having already endured two millennials on staff, and then it came, this giant leap of faith. Session decided a full time youth ministry intern was the way to go, and then started adding up the budget. There it was, what was proposed was in line with the spending plan of the endowment, and would retain its purchasing power. Everyone won, even me, because what I saw was a a congregation trusting in God’s faithfulness and open to the creativity of the Spirit for change, and I also know, that it will require more stewardship. Additional funds will need to be raised for the youth ministry program as well as other budgets like Open Door or Backpack which were simultaneously reduced. Moreover, you can’t hire an intern without a Personnel Chair. If an intern is temporary the church will have to be the ability for the program, there will need to be a support team for that youth director, parents will need to be involved in connecting their youth and kids in. To meet someone new, the congregation will take on more relational duties, an idea has been floated that each kid have someone like a confirmation sponsor, that if something they would have a sponsor who said I am going to be there, I am going to come to your games, I am going to visit you in the hospital when you get a concussion, I am going to call your parents and support them. I am going to know you from the time you are in sixth grade until the time you graduate and beyond until you go to college, and are married, and have a child, etc. etc. Someone is going to have to help Wednesday night meals, getting youth there, and meals. Others will need to help them to figure out housing and fun things to do in Baker. Its not done, but I think we have the faith because we’ve trusted in the Spirit. It was a case where no one lost. It was all win. It was all God saying,

"As we work together with Christ,
we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain.
For God says,

“At an acceptable time I have listened to you,
and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”

See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!
We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way,
so that no fault may be found with our ministry,
but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way.”

I am proud of you First Presbyterian, and where you have traveled in the last months. In these past four months you have become even more faithful then you already were, even more loving than you already were, even more a community then you already were. I have watched the Spirit bring you together from that crazy word called consensus. That crazy word is just our definition of getting behind the Spirit’s moving. And its moving, its dancing, and I can’t wait to see where it will lead.

February 7, 2016 1 Corinthians 15: 51 - 58

Listen, I will tell you a mystery! 

We will not all die, but we will all be changed, 

in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. 

For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, 

and we will be changed. 

For this perishable body must put on imperishability, 

and this mortal body must put on immortality. 

When this perishable body puts on imperishability, 

and this mortal body puts on immortality, 

then the saying that is written will be fulfilled: 

“Death has been swallowed up in victory.” 

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” 

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 

But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, 

always excelling in the work of the Lord, 

because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. 

***

Did you know every Sunday is considered a little Easter; that a week’s time mirrors the church year? Did you know that we are called An Easter People, not just one day of the year, where we celebrate Christ’s rising and the forgiveness of our sins, but everyday we are an Easter people. That there isn’t a moment, not even as small as the twinkling of an eye, or as big as the rattle of our last breath, that God is not victorious and we are not changed. 

Last week church felt like Good Friday, as if Jesus was already walking to the cross to hang there with our every burden. Our jitney of prayer requests included, Kim Berry, a stalwart congregant who had died late the night before, Yvonne Pouget relayed about her cancer, Sharon Defrees lifted prayers for her daughter in law’s dying father, June Gallaway asked prayers for her close friend with cancer, and for the first time during prayer requests, I, your pastor literally choked back tears, a visiting friend remarked, “Is it like this every Sunday? I should have brought tissues.” I assured her it wasn’t, because I knew there was Easter too, that even in those pews were stories of births to come. This week I made a very unKaty decision, the family put together the funeral bulletin and added a poem entitled, “Butt Prints in the Sand,” which riffed off the equally theologically problematic, “Footprints in the Sand,” one cheesy poem where the moments where there is only one set of footprints Jesus is carrying you, and the other, where Jesus says, “So I got tired, I got fed up, and there I dropped you on your butt.” It was the anthesis of everything I was trying to preach that day, and today too, and perhaps every Sunday, but the sentiment of humor was spot on. The humor of it, was that we are an Easter people, and that we can have this very serious thing called a funeral, and remember the promise that God is with us in life and in death, and on the back of the bulletin, we can laugh. There is the victory, that as an Easter people, death does not have the final say, instead we have the last laugh. There was a quitter victory too, of Fran Burgess, able to attend her first funeral since her husband’s death. Her small frame almost disguising the courage of her steps. Steps that move forward from death’s sting, and remember we are an Easter people. After both the Sunday Service and the funeral June Galloway was embracing and sharing her joy of the outdoors. She had found and gotten bunnies to run in front of preschool Sydney on the church snow day up at Anthony. When I had entered the Sydney’s Sunday School class she came up to my knees and as I bet down she told me in her little slow quiet voice how she had seen a bunny the day before. Her eyes twinkling, more magical than had the creature been pulled out a magician’s hat. Then after the funeral June was making plans with Roxanna to go owl searching. They had a palpable excitement which surprised me. Here was June, whose friend was suffering with cancer, and yet she too was remembering that we are an Easter people, that in the midst of life and death there is a trumpet sound even in the quietness of a snow-white hare, or hoot of an owl.

I saw Yvonne in Safeway, and stopped to give a hug. And there I was teary again, as she told me with arms clasped in joy, that she was cancer free. We are an Easter people. Then in the Christian Education meeting, Sharon, who keeps her daughter in law’s father and family in deepest prayer, said she needed to scoot out early, Dallas, her daughter had received her wedding dress in the mail, and wanted to try it on. We are an Easter people despite the presence of Good Friday.

Perhaps we live in the balance of Good Friday and Easter. When I was a hospital chaplain I would hold the hands of a family and circle around the bed of the their deceased beloved and we would pray for the newly departed. After the time was done, I would walk down the corridor and down a few floors to where the babies were born. Again I would circle around a little isolate with new parents and we would pray blessings upon the newest addition. I think as Christians we live in that corridor time, where there is both Good Friday and there is also Easter, where there is death and there is life. To be an Easter people means that we don't just sit forever beside the deceased, it means with courage we walk along that corridor knowing that death is not the only or final answer, we go to a funeral after the death of our husband, we find bunnies in the snow and watch our daughters try on wedding dresses, and we clasp our hands in the grocery store knowing that Jesus does not remain on the cross. To be an Easter people means that the Lord is victorious and that God is giving us new life in this moment and in the next. To be an Easter people means it cannot be Good Friday forever, it is only Easter forever. In this we shall walk forth. Thanks be to God.

January 31, 2016 1 Corinthians 13:1-13

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, 

I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 

And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, 

but do not have love, I am nothing. 

If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast,

 but do not have love, I gain nothing. 

Love is patient; love is kind; 

love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. 

It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 

it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. 

It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 

Love never ends. 

But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. 

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. 

Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. 

And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love. 

***

Luke, waiting for me to put feet warmers in my boots knew it would be awhile when I silded myself up to the oldest couple at Anthony, “You’ve been wanting to talk to them for ages, and when I saw the open seat and you approaching, I settled into mine.” The couple is like royalty at the mountain, in their nineties, the husband still skiing, looking sharp in his classic navy ski bib with eyes to match, and flannel likewise, his grey hair a silver crown. She with skin like that of a pumpkin, full but taunt, and colored warm from the heat of the fire. Her eyes still wide open taking in the world, though her memory  slowly letting it go. The jester’s court of Anthony rises to the occasion and looks after them, with handshakes and greetings formal for Starbottle Saloon but fitting for the way they carried themselves with stature and grace. While the husband skis her company is kept with everyone from the barkeeper checking if she needs a glass of water, to family and neighbors from LaGrande sitting throne-side speaking matters of the day, regaling her with tales of snowfall and skied down slopes. Like a pickup line, I asked, “May I sit here for a few minutes to put warmers in my boots?” and they explaining that family was coming, said that would be fine for a bit. I thanked them, and a minute later professed, “I really love watching you two dance.” It reminded me of the dancehalls of my youth, there were always the good dancers using their agility and strength and knowledge of spins and turns, and the little kids who move from swaying and jumping, to two step and half step, learning from their parents and family like Coleman, and Alex, and Maddy do on skis. My favorite though, was always to watch the older ones, it wasn’t about strength or speed, or some flashy outfit, but rather, worn like their old boots older couples marked a path that they had been dancing for years beyond my age, that hand settled comfortably in its place around the back, bodies as close as can be to still move with grace, and in that closeness which might be inappropriate at another age, was years of love. I asked them, “How long have you been married,” and she looked at him, the exact number now lost but reliance on one another not an once faded, “Seventy-four years,” he responded. “Wow,” I said, as if I had received a gift merely in the hearing. “And she is turning ninety-four in a couple months,” he added, she nodding. I admired, “When I was a hospital chaplain I would find the people ninety or above and visit them first because they always had some sort of spunk or spark or wisdom that kept them going so long.” It was essentially my, I love old people-caveat, especially those who had gotten past the point of holding out hand proudly and saying, “Five!” to choking down age thirty and hiding anything above, to the point where they are proud of the number and as if a cane was sector carry it pride. “So what advice would you give to someone my age on love and marriage?” “Hard work,” he responded. “We lived on a farm and worked hard. There wasn’t time for temptation.” Chiming in, hands reaching out to his, “I would carry him dinner out to fields if it got late, that’s love,” “We took care of each other,” he added, and I watched them do the same in that moment, and the way that their love, echoed in the way people treated them, perhaps lifting the caliber of the Starbottle Saloon to the table of kings and queens. He added, “You know, friends would go to the bar for a drink, and it easily would add up to four. When you work hard, you don’t have time for that.” The lofty advice meeting the place where it lay. “It’s love,” she added again, and I imagined her younger, steam still rising from a hot dish as she navigated plow and planting lines, eyes wide, to meet his blues. My feet warmers were now put in twice, Luke, though waiting, having said, “You better get them the same,” and waiting a little longer while I did. “Thank you,” I told the couple, and to Luke. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind.

I had seen it likewise, the obstacle course of getting kids in snow gear and Jim Ingram walking toward the little hill a tiny rope in his hand, pulling a tiny May Ingram on a pink sled. Kyra, with all strength stepping her skis one hand on her pole pulling Coleman up the hill, he holding onto its other end, and then at the chair lifting him onto the air, a complex dance like a path made worn, that same pole pretzeled into a seatbelt but also a snuggle belt, as all poofy in his gear Coleman silded up against Kyra like a pillow against a head. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind.

I saw it similarly, in Grandma Shannon Moon telling Coleman, “Coleman look I brought,” and bright orange string cheese flashing like a yield sign, and her explaining, “he is a cheese-monster,” and there like a meal carried across a field his eyes sparkled and cheese was devoured in childish chunks. Later, Carson, Coleman’s cousin, sat by Shannon and a grinning Bob and devoured more cheese, his cheeks red from his family taking him skiing, a dance passed down, until swaying becomes swooshing, and the Entire Johnson clan fills the basement of Anthony Lakes Lodge. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind.

I saw it in snowshoeing sister Sydney wanting to snowboard with Silas, and the way Aunt Annalea and Grandma Ed, calm and corral the kids, creating a special day them up at Anthony with their church. I saw it in the way that family dances close enough that their love is undeniable, making sure those two kids still have the opportunity to dance. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind.

I see it in Ben Merrill’s love of his kids, posting a video of the three of them doing the “Whip and NayNay,” and allowing his other kids, the students, to attempt to duct tape him to the wall at a monumental basketball game. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind.

I know it happened when Rick and Ginger Rembold snowshoed. He with athleticism and endurance surpassing his sons, stopped while she took pictures and caught her breath. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind.

Pulling into the garage, phone ringing at 9:50pm, listening to the voicemail, I saw it in a text from Linda Moxon, one minute after I found out Kim Berry had passed away. I saw it in my friend Bre, as she, knowing sleep and sermon had still to come, asked what she could do while I visited, those kindness with me as I pulled out the garage again. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind. I saw it in the memories of family lifted up naturally after a final prayer around Kim. Of the space they gave each other, and the listening, and the laughter, that finally returned from its long pause waiting for death. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind.

I saw it my best view in the church, when the kids light the Christ Candle, and Sydney looking up in the light and Nanette with her teachers gift, helping her and gently turning her around back. That is love. Love is patient; love is kind. I saw it in the joke Luke made, that, “but this is worship!” and all us knowing that whatever a kid does in this space is welcome because you, this church family, show love and kindness and are patient with all of our kids. I see it in each of you in this place whether we are here in this sanctuary, or up on a ski hill, or out and about, First Presbyterian church you are patient and you are kind and in so much that you do, you are God’s love. Amen.