March 27, 2016 Luke 24:1-12

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, 

they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 

They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 

but when they went in, they did not find the body. 

While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 

The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, 

but the men said to them, 

“Why do you look for the living among the dead? 

He is not here, but has risen. 

Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 

that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, 

and on the third day rise again.” 

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, 

they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 

They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 

but when they went in, they did not find the body. 

While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 

The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, 

but the men said to them, 

“Why do you look for the living among the dead? 

He is not here, but has risen. 

Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 

that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, 

and on the third day rise again.” 

Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, 

they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 

Now it was 

Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them

 who told this to the apostles.

But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. 

But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; 

stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; 

then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

***

(The numbers in the sermon correspond to the pictures.)

 So here is my admission of the week. I love creepy abandoned spaces 1, old dilapidated buildings that I’m not sure will stand the test of the next strong wind 2. Door frames hung more like hexagons than right angles 3. Exterior walls congealed with a mess of grasses and vines 4 which make the seemingly fragile - stronger, like a wrinkled woman defying death. unyielding when I try the door and find it locked.

5 I’ve come prepared, camera in hand, like spices to honor the dead, and this time the door isn’t locked and the handle turns, like arriving to find the stone rolled away. As I give a nudge its like cliff jumping, that moment where my body weight shifts past the plateau into the air before I fall toward the water, my arm likewise 6 hangs in that liminal space over the floor, and I can’t turn back because by opening the door, I’ve committed, I’ve already jumped 6 like knowing Jesus’ body rests on the other side.

Eyes adjusting, I watch the golden light of early dusk 7 spread dusty peach throughout the room 8 and fall on the mess that accompanies dead space. No matter how pristine our last breaths, all will become ashen, and bloated, the room silted and piecemeal. Death and time - the great equalizers of that which has been forgotten and abandoned 9 accompanied by the stench like a tomb after three days.

As I enter, the bowed planks of wood underfoot speak hoarse creaks of both welcome and foreboding. All it is, is an abandoned house, yet the last thing I ever want, is to see something alive. 

I spot a black leather kid’s shoe 10 from an era before my time, as if worn by children at Ellis Island or on the Oregon Trail. Simple construction, of sole, and ankle-high leather, bracketed by holes yielding spaces where laces once tied. Though dingy, the shoe is propped in a high window, as if desiring to go out and play, but it can’t, having lost its partner and its owner. Out of erie reverence, and perhaps defiance, I leave it in its space, and having found for what I came looking, though not what I was expecting, I silently ease out the doorway 11 I bow my face to the ground having witnessed the transcendent in the abandoned.

Turning to close the door, I pause to honor the gift the room has given me. What was once dead is alive 12. Fresh air breathes into the open room, color has returned to the cheeks of its walls, and glass and metal dazzle back the sunbeams which burn bright specks into my vision, like a holy haunting of glistening ghosts. As much as I would like to remain sun-kissed in the resurrected light, I cannot stay here forever, it is still a tomb 13.

Returning, I find my friends waiting outside 14. I am not sure how to put it, what I have seen. All it was, was just an abandoned house 15, anything more would seem an idle tale. How does one describe dazzling, that the room gleamed like lightening 16, that raspy and rusted turned to breath and life, and promise? How does one tell the Easter story? As we get on our bikes, I joke about the shoe that wanted to play. They should go see, but don’t and we bike home 17..

Later I get my film back and share the pictures 18, one of my friends says, “All of this stuff got torn down a week or two after we went there.” His wife remarks, “There were hundreds of thousands of wasps! You were brave!” But it wasn’t about bravery. Bravery assumes the brave are in control. Instead it was about wonder, bravery’s opposite, where the only thing I expect is to be amazed and this is what Easter is about. Easter is about humbly entering into the tomb to find traces of resurrection in our midst. 

Slide Show

March 13, 2016 Philippians 3:4b–14

If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: 

circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, 

of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; 

as to the law, a Pharisee; 

as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; 

as to righteousness under the law, blameless. 

Yet whatever gains I had, 

these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. 

More than that, I regard everything as loss 

because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. 

For The Lord’s sake 

I have suffered the loss of all things, 

and I regard them as rubbish, 

in order that I may gain Christ 

and be found in Christ, 

not having a righteousness of my own 

that comes from the law, 

but one that comes through faith in Christ, 

the righteousness from God based on faith. 

I want to know Christ and the power of Christ’s resurrection 

and the sharing of Christ sufferings 

by becoming like Christ in Christ’s death,

if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead. 

Not that I have already obtained this 

or have already reached the goal; 

but I press on to make it my own, 

because Christ Jesus has made me Christ own. 

Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; 

but this one thing I do: 

forgetting what lies behind 

and straining forward to what lies ahead, 

I press on toward the goal for the prize 

of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. 

***

At least a year ago, I swore off reading, or watching, presidential campaign news. Like a bad video game, campaign politics, at their least, seem a brain suck, and at their most, an addiction. It's an unhealthy pathology which takes its viewers beyond the scope of reality into a circus whose ring is filled with magicians of deception, all attempting to tame and trick the lion of American culture. And we as a culture have made this circus so grandiose that even a small town rural pastor can’t ignore the insanity as performers are shot out of cannons for our seemingly good pleasure. 

Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, is trying also to critique those gone astray following the authority of untamed leaders. Paul is reminding the Philippians, to whose authority they should subscribe. Likewise, in this sermon, I will attempt to do the same. A caveat, you may hear your candidate’s name critiqued but I promise those critiqued will be even handed. My attempt is not to put one person, or party, above the next, but rather, to point out the pathology of the political system against our pledge to Christ as our Lord and Savior. 

In Paul’s context, many of the Philippians are former Roman soldiers, whose values lie in power, in valor, in strength, in self-ambition, and wealth. Paul writes, 

“If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: 

circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, 

of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; 

as to the law, a Pharisee; 

as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; 

as to righteousness under the law, blameless.”

Here Paul is reminding the Philippians, he has played their game and won, that if they want to measure success with the authority of this world, he has had it. Paul explains he is from the right race - a Hebrew born of Hebrews, went to the right law school, had the right job - a Pharisee, was well known - a persecutor of the church, etc. Paul’s opening statement here reads much the same as the first words from Donald Trump’s website, 

“Donald J. Trump is the very definition of the American success story, continually setting the standards of excellence in business, real estate and entertainment. He is a graduate of the Wharton School of Finance,” (https://www.donaldjtrump.com/about). 

By the measurements of this world, Trump seems to have achieved much, just as Paul did in his time. But for Paul, as a Christian, the measures of this world no longer matter, Paul writes, 

“Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ.” 

And I wonder what Trump’s gains would become if we, as Christians, regarded them as loss? What might change if we measured our political candidates against Christ? What if Trump gave everything he inherited, and everything for which he had worked, and gave it to the poor, would we still follow him? or would we crucify his generosity?  How are we as Americans, and moreover as Christians, fueling the circus of greed by heralding wealth, power, and entertainment, as supreme? Are we are paying for our tickets and watching the greatest show on earth, instead of holding on to the promises of heaven? 

Paul continues, “More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” Here Paul is taking all that he achieved and learned from this world and turning its on its head. He says that the knowledge of this world is nothing compared to knowledge of Christ. And I wonder if our candidates would have a platform on which to stand if they said all they knew was Christ? 

Ted Cruz’s campaign slogan states, "Reigniting the Promise of America,” and when I think of the American Dream, it is easy to be swept away - in the founding of a place for freedom of religion, in the mixing of cultures, and in the prosperity of people like the Carnegie’s. But I wonder too about the ticks to the eye, that amidst a place for freedom of religion also stemmed the Salem which trials, about a place where cultures mixed also came rivalries between Irish and Italian Immigrant gangs controlling law enforcement and business, much less slavery, a place heralding Manifest Destiny while wiping out Native Americans. What does it mean that in the end, Andrew Carnegie sought to give away his wealth because he was afraid he would not get into heaven, because he saw the discrepancy between his working poor and his rich, because he saw the discrepancy between his life and Jesus’. Think of that next time you see a Carnegie Public Library, or Art Center. At the end of his life Carnegie got it, and so did Paul, that the promise of America is not always the promise of God. 

Likewise, Marco Rubio is calling for, "A New American Century,” and I wonder if this is what we want, another American Century? looking back to one with WWII and the Great Depression, Jim Crow Segregation and Japanese interment camps, the Vietnam War and September 11th. What if instead of a new American Century we asked for a century where God’s presence could be seen a new, a Divine Century. I think about the Biblical call for the year of Jubilee. That every seven years the land must lie fallow, that debts are canceled and inheritance dispersed among everyone. That disagreements are put aside and the slate is wiped clean. What if this, like in Biblical times, was how God was asking us to be renewed? 

Paul writes, 

For The Lord’s sake I have suffered the loss of all things, 

and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 

and be found in Christ, 

not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, 

but one that comes through faith in Christ, 

the righteousness from God based on faith.

In this Lenten time we are asked to give up that which we hold close. We are asked to let go of the pull of this world, and enter into a deeper faith. What if this was the new century to come? What would we have to give up?

Bernie Sanders tells us, "A political revolution is coming,” but maybe that isn't the type of revolution we need. What if revolution looks more like humbling walking with a cross on your back, instead of fighting the powers of this world. Paul writes, “I want to know Christ and the power of Christ’s resurrection and the sharing of Christ sufferings by becoming like Christ in Christ’s death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.” Paul writes this letter and this line from prison, he has spoken out and here he is sharing in Christ’s suffering. Paul will be killed for speaking out, and it makes sense to me that here in these last days Paul is focusing on what is truly important, the resurrection we have been given through Christ. I wonder, if we ourselves were on our death bed, would we be watching news and casting our ballot or reading our Bible and praying our prayers? And if one is greater than the other, which I believe it is, why do we not have the same focus today? How many minutes, or hours do we spend with the paper, the TV and the internet, instead of the Bible, a Bible Study, a prayer and worship on Sunday mornings? Which revolution do we want to take over our lives, a political one, or a Christlike one?

Hillary Clinton’s slogan writes, "Everyday Americans need a champion. I want to be that champion.” and this is my biggest problem with every one the candidates. I know it is simply the rhetoric, but I don't want politics to be our champion. As Christians, I want Christ to be our champion. Paul writes, “Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me Christ own.” What if politics wasn’t about who is better than whom, that it was about God being supreme? What if it wasn’t about whose party we fall into, but that God has already claimed us as God’s own. 

How do we live, knowing that before this hoopla, God created the earth, God created each one of us. How do we engage in that kind of campaign? I wonder how much energy do we put on each time. I know that as Americans voting is important, politics and being informed are important. We are Presbyterians, education, even education of the political spectrum is heralded, but I also want us to remember it is a balance and we need to ask what are we putting first? 

I called my parents the other day, and for much of the time my parents shared their worry about the future of our country because of the politics of today, and I thought, here we are, on the phone as family, and we are talking politics, there are greater things to talk about. Where had they seen God in their lives recently? How was Christ’s revolution alive in their community? Had they witnessed the work of the Spirit in their midst? And I wonder what likewise, is talked about around our kitchen tables, what likewise consumes our prayers, what likewise consumes our worries when something different could inform our hopes. Paul ends by saying,

 

Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; 

but this one thing I do: 

forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, 

I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.

May we all, this Lenten Season, this campaign season, follow Christ’s heavenly call, as God’s own.

Campaign Slogans from:

 https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2015/05/08/the-2016-candidates-slogans-ranked/

March 6, 2016, 2 Corinthians 5:16-21

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; 

even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, 

we know him no longer in that way. 

So if anyone is in Christ,

there is a new creation: 

everything old has passed away; 

see, everything has become new! 

All this is from God, 

who reconciled us to Godself through Christ, 

and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; 

that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to Godself, 

not counting their trespasses against them, 

and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. 

So we are ambassadors for Christ, 

since God is making the Lord’s appeal through us; 

we entreat you on behalf of Christ, 

be reconciled to God. 

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

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

SERMON

As she waited for her loved one’s passing, she asked me to send along some words. I was both surprised that she knew me well enough to ask something so fitting, and also that I had never been asked before. There isn’t much I can do in those times. I am not the one you want to bring over a casserole, or remember the formality of a card, but to e-mail along some words, was something I could do. I can write a prayer and so I did. I sat fireside with folk music in the background, and for the next hour and a half at least, I plucked out words like a child picks dandelions, arranging them for a rudimentary bouquet. With each key type and spacebar came the intentionality of a word prayed, of a flower smudged in beside another flower. As I pressed send, came the image of child lifting up bright yellow flowers on plasticity stubby stems to an adult towering above. In both cases the reaching and lifting was the culmination of its beauty, transforming its crude state to one which points beyond. This is what Lent is about, God’s transformation of a broken world. This is what this scripture is about. 

“So if anyone is in Christ, 

there is a new creation: 

everything old has passed away; 

see, everything has become new!”

Lent is about taking our brokenness, and healing it. It is about taking our distraction and refocusing it. It is about turning our hopelessness into hopefulness; it is about shedding big words that make us sound smart and substituting them with words whose meaning is solely prayer. Lent reminds us that it is not the elaborate flowers that evoke beauty but the giving and lifting up of dandelion weeds and palm branches as a gesture of care. Lent is a waiting preparation for the Easter to come, and part of preparing is noticing the little Easter that are already sneaking in to these thin places, where heaven and earth collide. 

“You won’t believe this,” she said, and I knew I would. A dove of peace was the image I used throughout the poems, and as she got up after midnight, before dawn, a dove was cooing outside her window. Inside, her baby likewise cooed. She had received the prayer. This is what Lent is about. This is what the scripture is about. 

“All this is from God, 

who reconciled us to Godself through Christ, 

and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.”

Lent is about God reconciling the world, that alongside a dying loved one is cooing baby and a dove. This is what this scripture is about. It’s about those places where awe sneaks in past common sense, to land us in a place of wonder and gratitude. This is what Easter will be about. That from a cross will come an empty tomb and angels. This is our time of waiting, our time to practice watching, because even now Easter is sneaking in, we are becoming new, and God is reconciling the world.

February 28, 2016 1 Corinthians 2.1 - 5

When I came to you, brothers and sisters,

 I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. 

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, 

and him crucified. 

And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. 

My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, 

but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, 

so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.

***

I was talking to a friend yesterday, and she was surprised that being a pastor of a church made dating hard. I explained that I don’t tell blind dates what I do until I can see them face to face, and when I do, I say, “I will tell you what I do, if you tell me your first assumption, no hesitation,” “I am Presbyterian pastor, Go.” In response, dates have blurted out, “Do you hate gay people?”  “Can I still go skiing on Sundays or will I have to go to church?” “Can you get married, have kids? Can you make out? and then often they ask if there are congregants around, and what is that like. Living as a pastor sometimes is a tricky dance. At one point, I fell in love, and the person listed my occupation as the reason he knew it wouldn't work. My friend, said, “Wow that’s a sacrifice,” and I have thought about that. She said, if that person asked you, “them or the church,” what would you pick? I said, “I think if they were to ask that, they wouldn’t know me. While I often joke that I am the Black Sheep of the Presbyterian Church, discarding rules, hanging out with atheists and evangelicals alike, and a claiming theology with sort of mysticism, this is who I am. This is who I am called to be. I explained my former husband was agnostic and despite the church being historically nefarious, he still was able to say, that I was doing good in the world and helping people. Perhaps he was more gracious about the outcome of my ministry, but I appreciated that he saw the attempt. The attempt to live a life that intentionally points to the mystery of God. It’s not a thing I can pin down, like going to church every Sunday, but a thing from inside that leads me. As I think of all this congregation does both inside and outside the church, I wonder, do people know that what leads us is a life proclaiming the mystery of God?

We are here today, but if you were to look from the outside, if your neighbor saw you pulling out of the driveway, would they think going to church was just something you did, or would they know the why, that this is something to which you are pulled, something to which you are called, that coming here is a deep place for you? I don’t go around talking about church or being a pastor, and frankly, sometimes talking about it outside of church, feels like talking about work, or being pushy in a way I don’t want to be, but there are other times, when I am listening to a friend without the judgment that can come from other Christians, or get asked to do a Sunrise Service up at Anthony Lakes, or get held up at the Starbucks in Safeway because a barista who sometimes makes my coffee is telling me in tears her life story, because I asked what made it a tough day, and stood there to listen, and told her I was the Pastor of the Presbyterian Church, and that I was going to pray for her, in those times, I feel like this is why that I do what I do, and the I point to the mystery of God.  Even as a Pastor, and perhaps especially as a pastor, I always feel a little funny saying my role and where I serve, but I figure the push of evangelism is worth the welcome that she might feel. That maybe if I mention this place she could come and feel welcome. Its not an easy thing to say, even the Apostle Paul acknowledges it, 

“And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. 

My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, 

but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, 

so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”

Its not an easy thing to say, but I think it is important that people know the source of the why we do what we do. If you come to Open Door on school mornings to feed and interact and create a space of welcome for Middle School kids, do your neighbors know why you come? Do they know what it is about that program that called you there? Did you hear a story of hardship and were glad you could be someone to whom that kid could talk? Did you play ping pong with a group of kids and know that in those moments bullying wasn’t happening, did you serve up two helpings of eggs to a kid who ate so ferociously that you know it was the first meal in awhile? What brought you there? As you pull out of your drive, do your neighbors know? Do those who pack backpacks of food for kids on weekends, know why each person is in that room? Do you know why Lynn leads the program, or why the Irvine Family brings the fruit? What is the calling on their lives? Its not easy to explain, we really can't with plausible words of wisdom, but have we tried like Paul, with fear and trembling, with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that (the faith we share) might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.

But it isn’t just about this place. There is a project going on during Lent for churches to take pictures of their Open Doors, not pictures facing inside, to the pews and the pulpit as often seen, but to the street and the community outside. Sharing about God doesn’t just happen here. Deb Trapp an occupational therapist, tells a story of being in class and exploring cadavers, and her professor taking a moment and explaining that these bodies often seen as gross, were in fact beautiful and really point to the Biblical scriptures of the body. Scriptures where the body has many members who must work together, scriptures which describe the body as a temple. Years later she remembers it, what if this is what Pail is asking us to do? Similarly, to hear Jason or Mark Ferns speak of their faith as connected the work as geologists is inspiring and explains why they do what they do. Have you asked Rick or Ginger why they do Habitat for Humanity work during retirement? We know these people do what they do this is human wisdom, but to hear them tell why speaks to the power of God. As teachers and ranchers, as farmers and forest service, as lawyers, and mothers, and brothers, and students, and retired people, do our neighbors know why we do what we do? Or do they just see us pull out of our driveway, not knowing the calling of our heart? Have we invited them to join us in the drive, to sit with us at 10:30 and see? Have we mentioned what leads us out those doors, do we live so others know perhaps suggesting the right book to the right person at the right time, is calling at the bookstore a kin to Jesus offering a parable. Do we know that offering wisdom of healing and health has defined or will define why we do what we do, much like Jesus to the sick? 

In this time of Lent, in preparation for Easter, we are asked to be intentional. Its not only about whom we speak to but is about our own practice of being intentional, of claiming who we are. Therefore, I am not asking you to give up chocolate as a Lenten diet plan. I am not so sure about those types of intensions. I am asking you to a deeper intentionality, to think about why you do what you do and to wonder about who knows why, and who doesn’t. I love doing funerals, because I feel like I get to find out people’s whys. I love doing visits, because I get to ask those questions. But what if we didn’t have to wait until someone passed away to hear their whys? What if we began to share with one another, with our neighbors, with those whom we call colleagues, or clients, or customers? Do your neighbors know why you come to this place, and have you ever invited them to see? Do your neighbors know why you go to your work, and have you ever shared with them why you do what you do? I think we can take the example form Paul, 

“When I came to you, brothers and sisters,

 I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. 

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 

And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. 

My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, 

but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, 

so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”

This Lent, what brings us in these doors, why, and what leads us out? May it be a calling on our hearts we not deny, lets us share what leads us is a life proclaiming the mystery of God.