May 28, 2017

Gospel (Jim Kauth Interpretation)    

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23  

While Jesus was sitting by the Sea of Galilee, naturally a crowd gathered around Him.

The crowd grew so great that Jesus finally retreated to a boat a short way from the shore.

As He surveyed the crowd He saw their hunger for hope. He knew that not all would understand His words. Some would fall prey to the evil one and listen to the evil one’s lies.

Some would receive Jesus’ words with joy but would not hold on to His words when this world punished them for believing. Some would hear His words but the world with its pleasures and desires would lure them away from God’s Kingdom. Yet Jesus also knew there would be a few who would hear His words and truly understand. These few would find their heart’s treasure in His words, these few would walk with His Father bearing fruit in yields far greater than they could ever imagine. How could Jesus describe things of the Kingdom in earthly terms?

He noticed a person sowing seeds in a nearby field. Jesus then began to speak; the sower went out to sow, broadcasting the seed by hand. Some seeds landed on the hard-packed earth of the walkways between the fields and the birds fed on them. Some seeds fell on the thin soil that just covered the limestone hard-pan, these seeds were warmed by the sun and started to sprout

but the soil had no depth to hold nutrients and moisture for the roots to grow so these seeds shriveled and died in the hot sun. Still other seeds fell on freshly turned soil but the weeds and grasses were still alive in this soil. The weeds and grasses grew quickly throttling the seeds, never allowing the seeds to grow into full bloom. Yet there were a few seed that fell onto good soil that was moist, deep, free from weeds and grass, full of nutrients. These seeds blossomed, grew, multiplied, yielding a harvest far greater than imagined. 

John 16: 7-11

So let me say it again, this truth: It’s better for you that I leave. If I don’t leave,

the Friend won’t come. But if I go, I’ll send him to you.

“When he comes, he’ll expose the error of the godless world’s view of sin,

righteousness, and judgment: He’ll show them that their refusal to believe in me

is their basic sin; that righteousness comes from above, where I am with the Father,

out of their sight and control; that judgment takes place as the ruler

of this godless world is brought to trial and convicted.

****

Some seeds fell on the thin soil that just covered the limestone hard-pan, these seeds were warmed by the sun and started to sprout but the soil had no depth to hold nutrients and moisture for the roots to grow so these seeds shriveled and died in the hot sun. Yet there were a few seed that fell onto good soil that was moist, deep, free from weeds and grass, full of nutrients. These seeds blossomed, grew and multiplied, yielding a harvest far greater than imagined. 

What is the difference between the two above seed-scenarios? Yep, not enough water and nutrients for the roots to grow! To carry this agrarian metaphor forward, who provides the water and nutrients? Well, we could say the farmer and it’s true the farmer does do the irrigation work and adds organic matter, compost, to the soil. But who created the water? Who created the organic matter that would turn into compost? God has a hand in everything!

Let’s continue to follow this metaphor by equating the farmer to you and I. Notice I’m not equating us to the sower, the sower is God, but I am saying we as Christians do the irrigation and add compost to the soil. We Disciples of Christ are not only “fisher of men” we are farmers of humanity, who are called to cultivate God’s Word in the hearts of all people. But remember, it is God who gives us the water to irrigate and the nutrients to add to the soil. How does God give us the spiritual water and nutrients to cultivate this world’s spirit?

To answer this question let’s talk a little about our faith. What makes our faith different from the Jewish faith or the Muslim faith? They both believe in a one God. Another way of saying this is we all, Jews, Muslims and Christians, are monotheistic. Monotheism or belief in one God is not what makes us Christians. Belief in Christ makes us Christians. This belief that Jesus is the Messiah and is the divine Son of God, both fully human and fully divine creates some theological challenges for a monotheistic belief. We Christians address this challenge through our belief in the mystery of the Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Our Trinitarian belief is what makes our monotheistic faith different from Jews or Muslims.

Hear John 16 again, “So let me say it again, this truth: It’s better for you that I leave. If I don’t leave, the Friend won’t come. But if I go, I’ll send him to you. “When he comes, he’ll expose the error of the godless world’s view of sin, righteousness, and judgment”. Belief in the Father, belief in Jesus our Lord and Savior, and belief in the Friend also known as God’s Holy Spirit is the foundation of our Christian Faith.

Now let’s go back to our farming metaphor and what I said earlier, we are called to cultivate God’s Word in this world’s heart. We do this cultivation by sharing God’s Living Water and the Bread of Life given to us in the “Good News”. But like farmers we must know when to irrigate and where the soil needs more nutrients. This understanding of when and where comes from “the Friend”, God’s Holy Spirit. God’s Holy Spirit invites you and me, all of us, to be a part of the “harvest”, we are privileged to be a laborer in the grand harvest that will yield results far beyond our imagination. As ministers, yes we all are ministers, look on our bulletin. As ministers we must be open to the guidance and council of God’s Holy Spirit, who will show us how much water is needed, and where nutrients are needed. So how do we become open to and remain open to God’s Holy Spirit?

The best way to describe how we open ourselves to God’s Holy Spirit is by looking at our lives as kingdoms and us as rulers of our own personal kingdoms. A Baptist pastor name Paul David Tripp in his book, A Quest for More, “Living for Something Bigger Than You” describes our struggles to give ourselves over to God in terms of little kingdoms and the transcendent Kingdom of God. Another way to say this is we must first die to ourselves before we can to live for/in God.  We must let go of our rulership over our small kingdom of self before we can embrace the immeasurably large unequaled Kingdom of God.

If you’re not sure what little kingdom living looks like, consider this; “every day we invest our time, money, gifts, talents, energies, relationships, and resources in the pursuit of something”, now ask yourself these questions; is your life invested in pursuing only your life, your personal wants, your personal needs? Do you find it hard to say no to You? Do you find yourself struggling with irritation, impatience, anger when others unwittingly or not get in the way of what you want? Ask yourself, “whose plan are you following, whose dream shapes the decisions you make and the actions you take? Who sets the agenda for a given day, week, month or year?” Are you still holding tightly onto your life as if it really did belong to you? Answering these questions gives you a picture of which kingdom you are living in. If you answer yes to any of these questions, you just might be living in your own little kingdom which is “death pretending to be LIFE”.

If we truly believe we are children of God, then we will give up our pretense of self-rule and submit all that we think, all that we desire, all that we have and all that we do to something far bigger.

So, what does God’s Big Kingdom living look like?

It begins with:

Recognizing there is something far bigger than you. We make a commitment to live for our Lord Jesus.

We hold the conviction that place is important, we believe God has put us right here, right now for a reason.

Belief that God’s call to service is a “life style” not a program. Ministry is not a stage we step on to and then off of each day. Every aspect of human life is the stage for ministry.

We trust that redemption, as the Bible teaches, takes place in the context of relationships. Redemption begins with our relationship with God, initiated through Christ, cultivated by God’s Holy Spirit and then reflected in all our other relationships. Because of this we look for opportunities to build more relationships with people around us.

We recognize that hospitality is vital, just as God has opened the doors of heaven and has adopted us as heirs to the Big Kingdom we must open our personal world to those who God has paced near us.

Understanding we are called to live with patience and perseverance, our life of ministry is a process not an event. We must be willing to make long-term investments in the lives of others, knowing that God will do what God alone can do, transform each and every one of us. Because we are willing to make this long-term investment in Loving others we must be patient, just as our Lord and Savior is patient with us.

This is Big Kingdom living and when we live this type of big, we are open to God’s Holy Spirit. We hear God’s Spirit whispering in our ear – water here – fertilize there.

            People are living Big Kingdom everywhere! Next door here, the Boles family has taken some hard hits, first Bill Boles dies, Verla’s husband of 70 years. Bill had been on dialysis for at least 5 years. He was finally too sick to go to dialysis and died a day later. Verla knew he’d been dying for a number of years but losing your husband of more years than many people live, well it’s still a kick in the gut, then 3-weeks later to lose your only son, Steve? Verla, her only remaining child Lynette, Verla’s only grandson Luke and her only great grandson Taygen are all empty, there’s nothing left, they’ve been gnawed down to the bone, their burden is too heavy for them to bear. Big Kingdom people right here in this town, have stepped up, they’ve been helping the Boles family carry this intolerably heavy burden. These, big kingdom living, people have held the hands of Lynette and Verla as they sifted through the personal effects of Bill and his son Steve, they have made sure all were fed when eating was the last thing on anyone’s mind; they sat with them and listened while Verla and Lynette asked God questions and begged for answers.

These big kingdom people show up every day and tell Verla and Lynette they will keep coming until this heavy, heavy burden can be borne by the Boles family. And this big kingdom living is happening elsewhere, not just here, not just in the USA, not just in the America’s or Europe, or Asia or Africa but all over this world. When people tell you this world is going to hell in a hand bag, you remember what you’ve heard here today!

Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, 14 but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.

For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 34 They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

This world is hard packed earth; this world is thin waterless nutrient poor soil, this world cheers on the weeds and strangling grasses and this world punishes. Yet when we finally give ourselves fully to God we will hear the sweet voice of our “Friend” and we will know when to water, and where to fertilize. We will know how to cultivate the precious seed Jesus has sown in this world. When we give ourselves completely to Jesus we will be laborers in the grandest harvest ever and this harvest will yield results far beyond our imagination.

Amen

May 21, 2017 Matthew 11.16-19, 25-30

“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ 

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; 

the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.” 

At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal the Father. 

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” 

***

Heading back to our flights to our respective towns, my Uncle Dave said to me, 

“I never knew how indignant and frustrated Uncle John had become over caregiving for Grampa. It's like he has no compassion left for Dad.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.” I said. 

I had been thinking a lot about it actually, about the whole thing, of caregiving, of personalities, of the meanings of lives, and quality of life and death, about what we are called to do, and what we are not. 

My Uncle John had been caregiving for my Grampa for almost as long as I have been alive. No one ever expected Grampa, who had smoked, and drank, ate like every meal was his last, and sat like a couch potato to the extent that once a little boy asked if he ever moved, no one ever expected my Grampa to live until 93. My Uncle Dave, said, “It just went on too long,” of my Uncle John’s caregiving, and I wondered if deep down he also knew, what had gone on too long was my Grampa’s life. I agreed but I also thought, there was a way my Uncle John chose his own reality, I said, “He could have asked for help.” Uncle Dave defensively jumped in, “It’s not like there were not frequent offers,” and I responded, “I just hope someday, Uncle John is able to realize why he gave and gave up so much. You have to ask the question, what does it give you? There had to have been some reason for Uncle John, to do it so long, maybe honor, maybe duty, maybe guilt, maybe love. He couldn’t see it now, but I did.

I think the story that best describes Uncle John is this. There was one snowy evening that I got stuck on a layover in Detroit. My parents said to call my Uncle John, but I admitted I had always been a little afraid of Uncle John. I remember my parents tell him to watch his language in front of us girls, and with a pipe-smokers-teeth and a beard long before it was ever popular, he seemed a little gruff. Uncle John told me he’d pick me up and having worked for General Motors for decades described the make and model of his car to me his niece, who, might have been better off with descriptors like, black, and small. My luggage got lost, as did my Uncle and I from each other for awhile and finally when I got in the car, he was super frustrated, and I wondered what I had gotten myself into. We went to his and my Grandpa’s place, though my Grampa was visiting my parents at the time, and my Uncle John made me dinner, all three brothers of my dad’s family are cooks, and my Uncle has two bookcases filled with cookbooks and has since written his own, seasonings in alphabetical order line and decorate his walls, and with chopping and stirring, I ate the best pot-pie ever, in the comfort of his little table in his tiny apartment. I think this is how my Uncle must have been toward my Grampa. A rough exterior but action, upon action, of love. But right now  my Uncle was so empty he had nothing else to give, and while maybe we could have checked in more, people choose how they spend their energy, and the moment we forget it’s a choice, we forget that it’s not all on us to play God. It is not on us to take the yoke from another and be another person’s source of rest, and comfort. We can give, we can love, we can fulfill duty, we can try to rectify guilt, though that only deepens the wounds, but if we believe we are doing it for another, other than acknowledging what it brings ourselves, we are playing God.

I had arrived a day earlier than my family and it was my first hospital visit, not as a hospital chaplain, not as a pastor, but as family, and it felt strange to be walking down the hall, less out of pastoral duty and more out of familial love. Yet, through experience, there were ways I felt comfortable - waiting outside the door while he yelled in pain at being moved, letting him blow into a tissue and wiping the end his giant Schneider nose, feeding him Ensure and iced apple juice by angling the straw down to the last sips, such that my finger almost touched his lips and the prickle of his unkempt grey beard on his thinning face, strikingly like my own father. Experience gave me too the know how to ask questions and wait, and listen, as between, each, word, he, caught, his, breaths, of, air. Though slow enough to almost stall, there was a way our conversation came with more ease than perhaps it ever had, it was a setting in which we rarely found ourselves, one-on-one, with lots of time and me in his space rather than he in mine with my family and I scheduled from one engagement to the next.

I could tell by the way his thick wooly white eyebrows raised, letting me peak at the blue of his eyes, that he was glad and surprised to see me but I could tell by the lack of verbal expression how tired he was. I went over and kissed him on the head, an endearment we called stealing kisses when I was little, and we kept score. “Grampa, I think I will be able to steal a lot without Grampa getting me back,” He asked, How is the preaching for the Most Beautiful Reverend?” he asked, applying his most recent endearment. I told him a little about me, and then shifted and asked, “How are you doing today, Grampa?” He used to respond, “Great, now that I see you, Pal!” but in the hospital he began, “Well Pal,” and then slowly he spoke of his father, and his father’s father’s brutal suicides. “Do you think they had depression?” I asked hinting and thinking to myself, I bet my grandpa too has had undiagnosed depression much of his life and still today at ninety-three and I guess there is no way to treat that now on his death bed. “Buddy, if I had a gun, I’d do the same,” he half joked, finally answering my initial question. I wasn’t surprised; he never has had really the will to live a full life but has ended up living a long one. And then he said, going back to his father, “I wonder if it was me that made him kill himself.” And here again, is where hospital chaplain Katy and granddaughter Katy abutted. I had to honor his own reality but I wanted to tell him it was ridiculous. 

“Why do you think that Grampa?” I asked, 

“Well, I told him to get out of my life.” 

“How long after you said that did he commit suicide?” I asked trying gauge the extent of my Grampa’s trauma.

“Oh years, later. After I got out of the Navy. The Navy really gave me independence.” 

“What happened that you had to take your dad out of your life,” 

“Well, your Grampa couldn’t do anything right, he controlled everything and was really demanding and angry. That’s why I never told my boys what they would do. I wanted them to make their own decisions.” 

“And they have Grampa, and they all did well.” 

“They did, they all did, and John took care of me so well. I didn’t know how good I had it until I went to the nursing home.” 

“Grampa,” I asked resisting his earlier statement, “Do you think if you committed suicide it would be our fault?”

“Oh no, Buddy.” Grampa said with reassurance. 

“Grampa, likewise, I think there are ways that when someone commits suicide or even dies, or is dying, that we question every thing we did or didn’t do. It’s never someone else’s fault.” 

I was telling my Grampa this, and telling myself. I didn’t know he and I could have conversions like this, we had them a few times about other things, about war and pacifism, but not the personal, ‘why’s,’ like this. I didn’t know he wanted to talk. Did he not share before because he didn’t think he was worth anything, as his dad had told him? Here my Grampa, an atheist, was in a way confessing, confessing a myriad of things, and I was his Reverend listening, but I was also his granddaughter the bearer of his history. Should I have reached out more, I wondered guiltily and wished I had, because I love stories, and they are even more special when it’s your Grampa. I wished I had for the gift it would have given me. But even with things as lovely as stories, as gnawing as guilt, and as deep as confessions, I knew I could not carry my grandfather’s yoke, just as his father’s is not my grandfather’s to carry, moreover a yoke of past wishes is likewise not mine to try to resolve. To do so is to forget the source of comfort, the true source of true rest, and to believe that we are that source. My Grampa began to tell me, “The, Navy, really, gave, me,” but he got too tired and I kissed his head and let him sleep mid-thought, and with his sleep, I let the story rest, perhaps forever. In his decision to sleep, and mine to kiss, all time stretched into an eternal now, of coming, all ye’ that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” 

I walked away, knowing this was the yoke of comfort I carry. 

Likewise, I pray, that in whatever role you find yourself, you too may know the peace of the comfort and rest we have been given to carry.

May 14, 2017 Matthew 10:40-42

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

***

I think it is the, “little ones,” who might get this passage the most, because have you ever seen a kid at a drinking fountain? Sweaty and red cheeked, the line forms up in front of it, the teacher counting to five so the next kid can take a turn to drink. Somehow, there seems to be more down the kid’s t-shirt than what must have gone in their mouth, despite smothering their face into the metal spout. And on hot days, like at the park, when they push the button and typewriter their face back and fourth in the cool water and come out dripping. When the fountain becomes play, with cupped hands under the stream, and toss to make a friend wet, the concrete becoming splashed until the parents remind them not to waste. A drink of cold water, to these little ones, is the essence of welcome. I remember being asked once if I could have invented one thing, responding that I would have liked to invent the water fountain for this reason. Can you imagine how many people, especially how many little ones, water fountains have welcomed? 

1. Yet, it’s not just water fountains, its the cups of water for the liturgist and preacher that the greeters put in the lecterns and pulpit each Sunday, and how, after preaching, I tend to down the glass during the following hymn so I can speak and sing during the rest of worship. It’s those rare times when my throat gets a tickle or a cough and right there below me is the gift to make it stop. 
2. It’s how on Easter Sunday the Miles family comes around with the coffee carafe and water pitcher for refills, and the gesture’s way of inviting people to linger and enjoy. 
3. It’s the Deacons who, at a wedding or funeral reception, walk up to the bride and groom, or deceased’s family, with a glass of water and insist they drink, knowing that if they are not served such, there will not the time to stop and they will unknowingly become parched and dehydrated. 
4. It’s the tiny glasses of powder, water, stir ridiculously sweet lemonade served at fellowship hour and the giant glasses of apple juice that are coveted by the kids at Open Door. 
5. It is also the backpack bags of food packed on Thursday mornings for students, and the boxes filled at Bread of Life for families who are likewise food insecure. 
6. It is also the cards sent by Ivonne Puget, and the rides given by the Ferns. 
7. It is Spencer Smith showing up at a Deacon’s meeting one week and being liturgist the next.
8. It is the McClaughry Family teaching Sunday School and the kids ringing the church bell. 
9. It is Linda Moxon helping to update those certified under our Child Protection Policy and Lynn Roehm running the background checks. 
10. 10. It is all our educators, especially at this time of year. 
11. 11. It is our students, like Sam Hamilton and Calli Ward, who under Sharon Defrees’ leadership with the Honor Society, held a dance here at the church for the Learning Center Students who otherwise would not have the opportunity for a prom or a special meal.
12. 12. It is those in the church who see part of our mission as not just to provide a space for our own church groups but also to be welcoming and flexible for such events. 
13. 13. It is dedication of our Session in not only planning leading and organizing in their own committees but really having a vision for what it means to be a Christian to each person. 
14. 14. It is each tithe written, or placed in the offering plate and the Finance Committee who so diligently oversees that it goes to serving God and God’s people. 
15. 15. It is Judy Baker’s ceaseless care taking for her brother and her baking communion bread, and it is anyone who has ever been a caregiver, from anyone from children to the elderly.
16. 16. It is Nancy Ames gift of music today, and Ginger Rembold and Nannette Lehman leading us on other Sundays, and Zach Allen and his trumpet on those special Sundays and is you who sing aloud or make a joyful noise.
17. 17. It is Melissa Irvine serving on the School Board and Kyra Rohner-Ingram seeking the best for our public Library. 
18. 18. It is how Dale and Shirley Dodson have a way of inviting people to church and how Sharon McKim is so good at making sure she greets them. 
19. 19. It is Bob McKim’s delivering what amounts to a fifth of the Baker population and the Buildings and Grounds Committee and knowing the church and manse’s every detail and double checking to make sure everything runs.
20. 20. It is Annie exuberantly teaching Zumba to the community.
21. 21. It is all those who have provided to the arts in Baker City, from music to drama, to art, and it is all who have ever attended, and clapped.
22. 22. It is our firefighters, like Danny O’Neal, Sam and Kate Averett, and our forest service like so, so, so many of you.
23. 23. It is our farmers who feed people and livestock like Tracy and Adam Lehman.
24. 24. It is our ranchers who wake early to feed and stay up late to care. 
25. 25. It is the way Tawny Dodson loves her horse, her chickens, and her church.
26. 26. It is those that stand up for those who have no voice from students sticking up to a kind who is being a bully, to lawyers who represent the underserved.
27. 27. It is Kourtney Lehman from the time she was in middle school attending every church event and being a strong presence on mission trips to now graduating and serving as FFA State President.
28. 28. It is anyone who has ever ventured to raise their hand to answer a teacher’s question or help a classmate with a problem.
29. 29. It is Sydney and Silas’ hug and exceptional manners, Jake’s leadership, Alex and Maddie’s exuberance, Grace’s sweetness, Coleman and May’s love of jumping from the church steps, and Avery and Nora’s bravery in coming up during children's time to be with new friends. 
30. 30. It is anyone who has ever held open a door.
31. 31. It is anyone who has ever washed while another dried.
32. 32. It is anyone who has picked up a piece of trash that wasn’t theirs or taken a misplaced bug outside. 
33. 33. It is anyone who has ever made a tense group laugh or apologized without provocation.
34. 34. It is anyone who has photographed a dew covered spider’s web, or pointed out a rainbow to a stranger.
35. 35. It is chains pulling someone out of the snow and shoveling another’s walk.
36. 36. It is a coat over your shoulders when the night chillier than expected.
37. 37. It is when a bottle of sunscreen becomes a community event.
38. 38. It is standing up and offering your seat to anyone older, or frailer, or a parent and their kids.
39. 39. It is our mothers, and our fathers, and our church family and the promises we make in baptism.
40. 40. It is someone who carries a bandaid in their purse and it covers your blister.
41. 41. It is getting your hands all sticky peeling an orange for a kid. 
42. 42. It is anyone who has ever listened and waited for the story that comes between gasps for breath and giant tears.
43. 43. It is anyone who has ever taught someone else, to drive, to read, to ski, to skip rocks, or hit a baseball, or dance, or play an instrument.
44. 44. It is everyone who has ever prayed for another person. 
45. 45. It is anyone who has ever made a card, or a meal, or stopped by to visit the sick, or the dying, or the lonely. 
46. 46. It is walking forward with your church to take communion. 
47. 47. It is washing someone else’s feet. 
48. 48. It is taking your shoes off in someone else’s house even if you have chipped toenail polish or your oldest pair of socks.
49. 49. It is waking up early, before first light, to go workout with friend because it’s good for you both. 
50. 50. It is staying up late doing your taxes. It is voting. It is reading the news and being informed. 
51. 51. It is sharing your favorite new song on social media, and telling another person Happy Birthday. 
52. 52. It is helping a friend with a house project that requires more than one person. 
53. 53. It is writing a thank you note. 
54. 54. It is serving on a board or being an active participant. 
55. 55. It is wearing a Baker shirt to a student’s game and cheering them on. Its the, “Thank you for coming.”
56. 56. It is being aware of those who are new and asking them questions about themselves and helping them know any unspoken traditions. 
57. 57. It is complementing a stranger. 
58. 58. It is entertaining someone else’s children or listening to your elders. 
59. 59. It is showing up on Sunday morning to this place to sit in these pews. It is just about anytime you show up to this place to do anything you do here.
60. 60. Welcome, is a glass of water, to the little ones, yet it is so much more. It is welcoming God. 

May 7, 2017 Matthew 10.24 - 39

“A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household! 

“So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. 

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. 

“Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven. 

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

***

I have got to tell you, Baker City is an interesting place. A neighbor was adamantly knocking on my door the other day and offered to spread Round Up all over the front lawn. “It’ll be good,” he said, “because it’s supposed to rain tomorrow and it will kill all your dandelions.” Now, as much as I dislike that dandelions begin to take over, the idea of all the killing dandelions, with their happy little yellow asters and delicate wishing seeds, seems as drastic and diabolical as setting a swing-set on fire because its located in a business park, my lawn is not that serious, nor am I afraid of an acyopolyse of dandelions. For my book club I had been reading, Silent Spring, published in 1962 and it “documented the detrimental effects on the environment of large scale indiscriminate use of pesticides,” Wikipedia. Would covering the lawn in Round Up, make the earthworms in my lawn dry and shrivel up like snake skin? I wasn’t sure and it seemed a big decision to make so quickly. So I said the church and I were going to call the lawn care guy, who just does the patches which need treatment, rather than spraying the whole lawn, like the book suggests. It seemed like rational moderation, of which I am a fan. 

I asked the neighbor, how his health was, which he had mentioned, and then he told me about that, and listed his travels around the world in the military, and said I should read the book he just finished, and then he made one of those comments, where I wonder if old men tell other old people or do they just say it to younger people when they want to pretend to be old and wise but end up sounding narrow minded and pejorative. It usually starts out with some comment about how the country, or the church, or the whole world, or young people these days, or teenagers, or kids, or immigrants, or this town, or our schools, or the Forest Service, or ranchers, or the government, or good ol' boys, or whatever - is ruined, and its about then that I discount whatever else they are going to say, because they have discounted an entire country, or planet, or age, or race, or place, or gender, or institution. He said he wrote his book because people don’t know the real history of the United States and I nodded because I agree, we have not written and taught the history of the oppressed, for instance, like how we have this big grand Oregon Trail Interpretive Center that looks down on the Chinese Cemetery which is over grown and only stumbled upon. But this wasn’t what my neighbor was talking about, he then mentioned the New World Order which is a conspiracy theory that suggests that politicians and the elite are secretly conspiring for a totalitarian world government. It comes out of an Alt. Right militaristic and Fundamentalist Christian world view that is concerned with the end-times and evil overcoming the world. I sadly wondered how many hours this man spent searching the bowels of the internet and listening to people pontificate on the radio, both without understanding about primary sources and fact checking. He went on for awhile and I saw the anger and it’s underlying fear rise in him, and when he took a breath for moment, I said to my neighbor, “That’s got to be a hard world to live in, ever fearful when it’s so beautiful outside.” It was like to him the whole world was my dandelion patch and he couldn’t see the happiness in little yellow flowers but instead proclaimed them weeds all deserving eradication. This isn’t a Christian world view. Nothing fear based is. 

The scripture says, 

“So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.”

I suppose my neighbor believes he was uncovering what he hears in the dark and telling it in the light. Likewise, I believe the author of Silent Spring is doing the same. Both may be true, but I question anything that uses fear as an agenda because fear is not the God I believe in. Fear is that which can destroy both body and soul in hell when outside there are blue skies, fear is that which robs us of sleep, and of peace, and of progress. It circumvents courage, and feeds on shadows. I much prefer to believe that the ruler of the world is not a bunch of powerful bazillioneraires gathering around a table in some secret meeting room, but instead is a God who shows up in the light of day and over and over tells the common people, “Do not be afraid.” 

God has told me not to be afraid. In seminary, I had a horrible thing happen to me, the likes of which I have, for the most part, healed from, so much so that saying it in the light is easy now and I worry more about you hearing than I saying it. You see, there was a time that fear held me fast. When I was in Seminary, I was sexually assaulted (taken advantage of) by a fellow classmate and when I came forward I was victim-blamed by much of the school administration. I hid in my room, I dropped two classes, I shook every time I saw a black SUV, and I didn't know the few who I could trust and quickly learned whom I couldn’t. So because I was so alone, that is when I decided to garden. I planted Cosmos by scattering seeds willy-nilly all over the dirt. I’d never planted anything before, and doubted they would grow much like I doubted I would heal. Yet, in that Spring I began to see tiny green sprouts emerging from the ground, which then opened up into little feathery leaved stalks, and finally became a cacophony of pink and white and fuchsia whimsical flowers, they were some of the happiest things I’d seen and I realized that I was like them, that exposed to the light I too was now healing. This is the God I believe in. I believe in this God of light. Years later classmates and teachers have apologized for being afraid to help me bring what happened in the darkness to light. Yet, they have said because of my sharing they have been better pastors and teachers to people in the same position. My only regret is not shouting it from the rooftops. Because what I learned is that we have a God of light, a God who says do not be afraid. Do not be afraid, because all these dark fears are diminished when brought into the light of God. Even the worst of them become like whisky cosmos in the garden or like little yellow dandelions on the lawn. 

So whatever it is that keeps you up at night, shout it out, whatever it is that hides the dark parts of your worry, bring it to light. Have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear. We have a God of light. 

April 30, 2017 Matthew 9.35-10.23

Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, Jesus had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then Jesus said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” 

Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him. These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: 

“Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment. Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for laborers deserve their food. Whatever town or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave. As you enter the house, greet it. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town. 

“See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Beware of them, for they will hand you over to councils and flog you in their synagogues; and you will be dragged before governors and kings because of me, as a testimony to them and the Gentiles. When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say; for what you are to say will be given to you at that time; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you will be hated by all because of my name. But the one who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next; for truly I tell you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes. 

***

Yesterday was unexpectedly filled with a parade of diverse strangers all day long. 

It began literally running an errand to a friend’s house. I heard yelling from around the corner and couldn't place it until I saw, in a front yard, a young woman being physically blocked by a man as she tried to get around him to leave. I slowed and they saw me and he let her walk away. I looked in her eyes and asked her, “Are you okay?” She nodded and kept going. The man yelled at me, “Jogger, keep jogging,” and I wished I had my phone to call the police. He continued, “Now everyone is going to think I am a bad person,” as if that, instead of her safety was the main concern. He yelled at her, in a last ditch effort of control, “What do you want me to do? I’m going to put purse on the porch if your leaving,” and it worked, I watched her turn around and walk back in. I jogged on realizing the the helplessness of two women with nothing but the clothes on their back, and the shoes on their feet. All you have is your ability to walk, or jog, or look someone in the eye, and as I jogged back, I saw her in the distance, walking, and I wished I had my car to go see if she wanted a ride to May Day, or somewhere out of there. Then saw him rev up his car. 

The second set of strangers was also a couple. My gal friend and I had taken a raft the size of a bathtub and forded the Snake River at the calm water of the Oxbow Dam and hiked up into a secluded Hot Spring. I’d never run into people there, but it was the first beautiful day in months and a Saturday at that. Cresting the ridge, I saw a woman laying out and a man scrubbing the primitive tub. Not wanting the startle them, and not being able to see her well enough to see her suit I said, “Hi,” loudly twice. He couldn’t hear me over the sound of the water, until she, sat up with a suit on and got his attention. He looked up, and said, “No.” Maybe he said, “Oh.” Either way, I felt badly, and unwelcome. There is a way, with small remote hot springs, that they feel like the child’s game, King of the Hill, they belong to the first person to claim it. Like if your second, you have to go find a better bigger hill, or kick the king off. We had no other hill, we had driven a couple hours, and gotten snacks together and fit ourselves in a tiny raft. It was her first time since she could remember having a day without her kids and I could not remember the last time I woke up and got to put on a swimsuit, what I had remarked were the makings of a great day. With no other place to go, we had to share the hill, so I put down my stuff, found a scrub brush and hopped in the clay tub and started scrubbing. I asked where they were from and how they got there as no boat was docked at the shore. I was relived to hear Idaho, and he and his family owned a jet boat company at Hell’s Canyon, and this was their regular haunt, but I felt sadly that they had been dropped off as they were stuck with us. So, I said, “My name is Katy,” and they too introduced themselves. Seeing my bag, the woman commented, “You brought a pineapple?” and when we picnicked, while they hot tubbed, and after it was cut, I said, “Let’s share with our new friends,” and on the makeshift cutting board of a magazine my friend offered them bright yellow rounds, telling them it was great with the chill/tamarind seasoning and they talked about different things they had had them on. When she got back to our spot, I said to my friend, this is the scripture. We are in it. And I wondered, how many picnics the disciples shared when perhaps all they had was a snack. About an hour later, when the couple was picked up, it felt friendly saying goodbye and wished each other a good day.

As the afternoon drew on and my friend and I were in the water my friend said, “There are people.” Like us, they were hesitant to walk up so, I sat out of the water a bit to help them see us, and then realized it was my friend from town and her family. I waved excitedly, and said to her daughter who shares my name, “Hi, Katy!” and her mom, “Hi Kim.” It was immediate energy as my friend and Kim also went to college together. A small world for sure. I pointed out to the family the wild asparagus, and the goose sitting on her eggs, and I showed little Katy, the tube that brought the hot, hot water, and the one that brought the cool river water. It always feels like if you can bridge with the kid, everyone else soon feels comfortable. Not long after, though they hadn’t brought suits, they dipped their legs in the warmth, and we talked and told stories together until they felt it was time to go. I wondered about Jesus reminding the disciples to welcome the children, and how it must have felt for them to see someone they knew so far away.

Already fingers prune-y, my friend and I began to pack up, when over the ridge a couple peeked up and then stood their hugging, swaying, clearly on something. The sky had grayed by then and in the same way their group of two sallow faced couples entered the space like a grey cloud covering the sun. I tried likewise, in my unease and perhaps because of it, to again express welcome to them in this space they were quickly overtaking, “Hi, how are y’all? We are just packing up, it will be all yours soon.” My friend said, “Perfect timing,” It was a way of naming where we were unwelcome, and wiping the dust off our feet. There was no hesitation on their part and they quickly walked around us, and the hot spring, and the hill above it and it did feel like perfect timing as we walked down to our dinky raft and saw that the couples on drugs had at least been functional enough to plan a trip with nice kayaks. We crossed the river back laughing at ourselves and the spectacle we must be two girls in a tiny, tiny raft crossing the river. It's easy to laugh when you don’t have much bogging you down. 

It’s easy to get along naturally when all you have is all you are - nothing but the words you can speak and the clothes on your back, and the way you can stop jogging or start walking, or jump in scrubbing, or offer your snack, or wild asparagus and space for others to dip their legs in the water, or to let your peace return to you as you wipe the dust off your feet. Yesterday, after months bundled up inside with all my things, I remembered how much easier it is to be graceful when you aren’t carrying anything. It's when we are our best disciples.