Sermon for Pentecost 8: "God is For You"

A Sermon for the Confirmation of Victoria Shatro

        

            For most everyone here today, this is an ordinary Sunday morning, just like every other Sunday morning we come to church. 

            But for Torie – this is a special day – it is the day she will confirm her faith.  It is her confirmation day. 

            It is a day that means many different things – and just one.  Confirmation Day is a day when a young person, in some ways, becomes an adult in the eyes of the church.

             In that way, it is a little like your Quinceanera last March, Torie, because at that time you vowed that you would be a Christian young woman,

            you received encouragement and prayers from the people who gathered, and – I remember this – you changed from wearing flat shoes to wearing heels – a sign that you are growing up.

            Confirmation, too, is a sign of growing up. 

            Today you will make promises to be a follower of Jesus, to “confirm” the faith given to you when you were baptized, the faith so many people have shared with you throughout the years. 

            But confirmation isn’t JUST a sign of growing up. 

            And it’s not just a day to MAKE promises to God – but it’s a day to remember the promises God has given to us.

            Promises like this:  “the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness… because we don’t know how to pray but the Holy Spirit prays for us….”

            Promises like this… “All things work together for Good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

            Promises like this…. “If God is for us, who is against us?” 

            Or promises like this…. “Can anything separate us from the love of God?  No, I am convinced that neither life nor death, nor anything else in all creation can ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

            Today these are promises for you, Torie, for this day when you will make promises of your own,

            promises to be faithful to God as God has already been faithful to you, promises to worship and serve and share and shine your light in the world…..

            The most important thing to remember is that God’s promises come before ours. 

            That everything we do and everything we are is a response to God who has given us such a firm foundation. 

            Nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.  Nothing. 

            God is for us.  God is for US,  and not because we’re so perfect, or have dotted all of the I’s or crossed all of the t’s. 

            God is for us, because the one who created us, sees beneath the flaws and the failures, the sees beneath the regrets and the sorrows, sees one for whom Christ lived, and died and rose.  

            God is for US – and God is FOR us – and I don’t mean that God will make sure that nothing bad ever happens to us, or that we will live a charmed life. 

            God is for us means that in the midst of everything that will happen to us – good and bad, success and failure, life and death – God will not desert you.  

            I remember once using this scripture reading at a funeral. 

            And the person who was to read brought a different version of the scripture, and when she read it, it made me sit up straight, because here is what she read,

            “Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love?  Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death?”  

            The answer to these questions is “No.”    

            Whatever happens to us, whatever our life looks like on the outside, whether we’re having hard times or good times:  God is for us.  God is for you. 

            Nothing in all creation can separate you from God’s love.

            You may not know this today, but you will experience it some days – that there are things in the world that try to separate us from the love of God.,

            try to convince you that God is NOT for you, that God doesn’t care about you. 

            I remember reading a memoir this past year, and there was this memorable little story in it. 

            The boy grew up up very poor in a sort of chaotic household. 

            And he relates a day that he turns to his grandmother, in the midst of some family crisis or another, and says to her, “Does God love us?”         That broke my heart.  The circumstances of his life caused him to doubt the love of God for him. 

            But that brings me to one other thing I want to say today. 

            We have this foundation, this unshakeable foundation – this gift of God’s love that never leaves us or fails us. 

            You have it Torie – you received it when you were baptized – and everyone else here has it too – but we also have a calling.  And this day is about both of those things – this gift and this calling. 

            And “God is for you” means that too. 

            God is for you means that God has called you to be his person in the world, that God has said, “I want Torie to be one of my people, not just to experience my gifts and my love.

            But also I want Torie to be one of my people to share that love with the world.    

            I remember the agony of getting chosen, or not getting chosen, for things when I was in high school.  Mostly sports. 

            We used to divide up the class into two teams to play softball, or basketball, and I always worried about whether I would be chosen, because I wasn’t very good. 

            And then one day I remember getting to be one of the first ones chosen – for basketball. 

            To this day I have no idea why my classmate chosen me – but you know what – I LOVE basketball. 

            I don’t know what God will call you to do, Torie –

            I know you have a heart for children, and a strong spirit.  I know that you are a pretty good public speaker. 

            Maybe someday you’ll help build a well in Africa.  Maybe you’ll advocate for those who are weak and vulnerable in the world. 

            Maybe you’ll tell a small boy somewhere, that God does too love him – and that Jesus died for him. 

            Maybe you’ll cook food for homeless people.  Maybe you’ll walk alongside people who are grieving. 

            Maybe you’ll bring communion to shut-ins. 

            Because God calls us in our whole life, not just one part of them, to know that God is for us.

            This is no ordinary day.  not just for Torie – but for all of us.

             It is the day of Torie’s confirmation, but it is also a day for us to re-affirm our faith, to stand on that firm foundation once again and put our trust in the one who promises to never leave us or forsake us.  

             It’s a day for all of us to delight in the grace of God, the gifts of God, and our calling to be an instrument of that love in the world.   

            Because nothing can separate us from the love of God. 

            Not the things you can imagine, and the things you can’t imagine.  Not the past, not the future.  Not poverty – or even riches. 

            Not grief or joy or struggle or success.  God is for you --- and has called you to live with him – not just in heaven, but in every day, and in everything you do.

            AMEN

            

Kairos

Sunday was Confirmation Day for eleven young people in my congregation.  It is just two weeks before my last Sunday as pastor here.

Because my time here is winding down, and because the pre-confirmation retreat was the same weekend that I had both a funeral and a wedding, I was not able to be with the confirmation students at their retreat.  I missed being a part of their day writing their faith statements, creating their banner, designing their worship service.

But on Sunday morning, I still got to be there, to be with them, to speak some words to them, to say their names, to witness their promises.

I saw them as they processed in together with their parents.  They each stopped in front of the baptismal font, where their parents marked them with the sign of the cross.  I saw tears.  And I felt tears.

Before the service, I was checking over parts with the other pastor, who was preaching.  I asked who was reading the lessons, and discovered that the parts were open.  I asked three of the confirmands if they would read, and they each said yes.

So, that morning, we heard so clearly and so passionately that for everything there is a season.  We heard that we were buried and raised with Christ in baptism, and now walk in newness of life.  We heard that we are light, and that our purpose is to shine.

The message that morning was about Kairos time -- not the same as the time on our watches, not chronological time, but the right time, the acceptable time, the time of opportunity.  "it is your time," he said to the confirmands.  "It is your time to serve, your time to follow Jesus, your time to say yes to the grace and beauty and love of God in your life."  Those aren't the exact words, but that is what I heard.

This is your time -- the right time, the acceptable time.  That's the message that the confirmands heard, but not just those eleven students.  Is it the right time for us as well?  Who is Jesus calling us to be?  How is Jesus calling us to follow?

In two weeks my time here in this congregation will finish.  I will not be their pastor any more.  I will go to be pastor in another place, to other people.  I will help them dream dreams, follow Jesus, grow in grace.  It is the right time.

At the close of the service, the eleven young people processed down the center aisle to the back of the church.  I followed them.  A woman in the back of the church, someone I didn't know, grabbed my arm.  This was her first time in our church, and she asked if I would pray for her, and for her mother, and for their relationship, and for all kinds of healing.  I asked her name, and her mother's name.  She told me.  We took each other's hands.  And there were tears.  She said, I'll be back.

In the meantime, I am here.  Here with the water and the word and the tears, and the names that I know, and the names of strangers.  Here where we pray and heal each other in the power and compassion of Jesus.  It is the right time.

Saying "Yes" and Meaning It

Today was Confirmation Sunday for our congregation.  Eleven young people stood up in front of the congregation and said, "Yes", they wanted to continue to be disciples of Jesus, they wanted to live their baptism, they wanted be children of God, just as they were called when their parents carried them to the font a few years ago.  Eleven young people said, "Yes, and I ask God to help and guide me", when I asked them "Do you intend to continue in the covenant God made with you in Holy Baptism?"

And I think they all meant it.

Oh, I know that some of them have doubts.  Some of them wonder about the stories of the Bible.  Are they really true?  Some of them seem hard to believe.  But despite their doubts, they somehow want to continue the journey, being connected to this particular set of people who bear Christ's name.  Others of them are more certain of God, but they still have questions.  They wonder about how it all works, what eternity is like, why is there evil in the world?  But despite their questions, they still said "Yes" when I asked them "Do you intend to continue in the covenant God made with you in Holy Baptism?"

It's a pretty big question, whether you are in the 9th grade or whether you are 90.  "Do you intend to continue in the covenant God made with you in Holy Baptism?"  Just to prove it, when we ask 9th graders, we break the question down into five parts.  We say this is what it means to continue in the covenant God made with us in Holy Baptism:

*  to live among God's holy people
*  to hear God's word and share in his supper
*  to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed
*  to serve all people, following the example of our Lord Jesus,
*  to strive for justice and peace through all the earth.

I can't help thinking that, though all of the 9th graders meant it when they said "yes" today, they really didn't know what they were getting into.  In this way, they aren't that different from any one of us, at any age, when we say "yes" to being disciples of Jesus.

We all say "yes," because, at the time, we somehow know that saying "yes" means life to us.  Saying yes means grace and forgiveness, love that is stronger than death, a place prepared with many mansions.

Just two weeks ago, members of our congregation gathered after worship to learn the outcomes of some of our redevelopment groups.  We heard reports about the demographics of our community, learned more about the two paths our congregation could take:  either "redevelopment" or "legacy."   We learned that the path of 'redevelopment' is a path of change, and that it leads to growth and life.  We learned that the path of 'legacy' is a path that, eventually, leads to death.  The choice seems simple.  To choose to redevelop is to choose life.

But at the heart of it, it is the same sort of question as the one posed to the confirmation students today.  At the heart of it, to be a redevelopment church is to say "Yes," to the question "do you intend to continue in the covenant God made with you in Holy Baptism?"

"Yes, and I ask God to help and guide me."

On that Sunday two weeks ago, we said yes.  Just like those 9th graders.

And I think we all meant it.

But we don't yet know what it will mean.  We don't really realize how it is that God will transform us, in our encounters with our neighbors, in suffering and service, in worship and joy, in silence and in shouting.  We don't really realize how it is that God will transform us, from one degree of glory into another.

In the meantime, we all said 'yes.'

But more important than that, we asked God to help and guide us.

Pentecost and Confirmation

Tomorrow is Pentecost Sunday.

It is also confirmation day for our 9th graders.

I was confirmed on Pentecost Sunday a few years ago now.  Back in those days, and in my tradition, I believe that Pentecost was always Confirmation Sunday.  We chose the day that the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles to lay hand on the young people and ask that the Holy Spirit descend on them, too.

Back in those days, in my tradition, anyway, there was no prayer for the Holy Spirit at baptism.  We waited for about 15 years, until your confirmation day, to pray that the Holy Spirit would come to you. But somewhere along the line, when we were reading the Bible (always a dangerous thing to do), someone noticed that, in the book of Acts, everyone received the Holy Spirit right after they were baptized.  So now, whatever age you are, you receive the gifts of the Spirit at baptism.

At confirmation, we pray, instead, a prayer that begins this way, "Father in heaven, for Jesus' sake, stir up in _______ your Holy Spirit."

Stir up.  I like that.

It's a good for Pentecost, as well as for Confirmation.

So we lay hands individually on each 9th grader, each 15 year old, and pray "Stir up your Holy Spirit in this person."  And I suppose that what we are thinking is a sort of "get moving, Holy Spirit!" sort of prayer.  "Get this person through life!  There are going to be a lot of tests, and a lot of trials, and a lot of doubts going on, and be the Spirit that keeps this person faithful through all of those things.  Give them the strength that keeps them going when the going gets tough, when their spouse or child gets sick, when they lose their job, when they are lonely, when they are grieving, when they are dying."

That's sort of the gist of it.  "Stir up your Holy Spirit."

And that's not a bad start.  But "Stir up" has so many implications, complications.  I catch myself wanting to pray more this way, "Cause some problems, Holy Spirit!  Move things around that have been in the same place way too long.  Kick this person in the seat of the pants, help them to think in ways they have never thought before.  Open them to new possibilities, new missions, new ways of loving the world.  Stir up your Holy Spirit so that we might be your troublemaking church."

What I wish for our 9th grade confirmation class, is to be troublemakers -- in a good way, of course.  I pray for the Holy Spirit to stir them up so that the rest of us will be stirred up too -- to be a truly Pentecostal Church.

The End of the Day

It is the end of the day.  Most of the lights are off.  I'm ready to nod off.  Scout the dog is on the rug in front of our bed, quiet.  An empty glass of wine is on the nightstand.

There's a cool breeze coming in through the window.  There was a little rain earlier this evening, right before I left the church.

I got up early this morning, let the dog out, got dressed for church.  I needed to print a funeral sermon and some questions for a worship conversation we were holding at 8:30, with our Matins groups.  We want to find out what people in our church value about worship, what is unique about our congregation's worship,  so we are getting together with as many groups of people as possible.

We have a full Wednesday morning program at this church, starting with Matins at 8:00, a coffee and conversation time at 8:30 and a speaker at 9:00.  We were going to sandwich in a conversation from 8:30 to 9:00.  I had a funeral at 11:00.

When I entered the church, I ran into the Program Speaker, a retired pastor who now spends his free time writing books.  He asked me if I was a writer.  (How did he know? I thought, but did not say). "Do you have a manuscript?"  I had to admit, no.  I have a number of haiku prayers, though....

I stuffed the half-sheet of paper with his biographical information into my pocket, and gathered the group for the worship conversation.  "What does worship mean to you?" was the first question, which was met with a full and silent moment, and then a flood of responses.  We went on from there.

Afterwards, the funeral director was already there.  The family started arriving.  I did some practicing, honing the final sentences of my sermon for the morning, talked to the family, put new batteries in my microphone.

I have to admit, funerals have a way of erasing my hard drive, so I made a list of a few things I needed to do after the funeral.  Edit a letter to the congregation about summer worship.  Write a call to worship for contemporary worship.  Call a bride-to-be.

Right before the funeral, a man held out his hand and said, "Do you remember me?"  He and his wife were at the last funeral I had, just a little less than a month ago.  I had not known that their families were connected.

During the funeral, I spotted him, sitting in a pew with his wife.  Tears were running down their faces.

We had communion at the service today.  The woman who died -- loved receiving communion.  When she entered hospice, she said, "Now I can get communion every day, can't I?"  When she died she was 88 years old, married almost 63 years.  She was a woman of strong faith and strong love.  She was also a good friend of my mom's.

My mother came to the luncheon.  She wore the shawl I made for her two Christmases ago, even though it was a little too warm to wear it.

After the funeral I edited the letter.  I sent it to the office coordinator for formatting.  I took a little break and went over to visit with the family of the woman who died.

Then I came back to church, wrote some worship material, made some phone calls, had supper at the church:  sloppy joes.  There was another worship conversation in the evening.  "What does worship mean to you?"  we asked again.  "Why do you come to worship?  Why do you come back?"  One woman said, truthfully, "my son brings me back."

Finally, I met with a confirmation student and his dad.  We talked about faith and doubt and families.

It is the end of the day.

Low Sunday: Before I Forget

So, again I preached on what is known as "low Sunday" in some circles (although never in ours).  To be fair, I did get the opportunity to preach on Easter twice here, for the large crowds that come on Easter Sunday.  This is not an opportunity that your average Senior Pastor shares lightly.

We do not call the 2nd Sunday in Easter "low Sunday" although we do give the choir the Sunday off, and some of the people also seem to take the Sunday off as well.  So, the congregation was not quite as full on Sunday. 

It wasn't so low for me, though.

There was no choir, but there was a wonderful soloist at our first service, singing Handel's "I Know That My Redeemer Liveth."  At the second service we recognized the Sunday School teachers, and all of their students gave them flowers.  Also, the cherubs sang, and jumped around, and they made us jump around too.

We had our first annual Mother/Daughter Brunch after church (four kinds of quiche, salad, fruit, rosemary potatoes...).  I invited my mom to come to worship and to the brunch with me.  When I saw her sitting in the church, I approached her.  She said to me, mysteriously, I thought, "Someone from your past is here today."

I raced back out to the narthex, looking for the mysterious visitor.  No one.  I raced back into the sanctuary (thirty seconds after the worship service should have started) and whispered to my mom, "I didn't see anyone."  She said, "They said they were staying for the church service."

So I had the congregation stand and we began to sing the opening songs. 

Then I spotted them:  two old friends from college.  They had gotten married and moved to Idaho, then to Washington State.  I hadn't seen them for I don't know how many years.   I had roomed with her in college, and, since we both lived in the Twin Cities, we ended up getting together during the summers as well.  We went to prayer meetings together.  We sang together (special music) at my church.  

I did my heart good to see them.

I now have their email address.

Oh, and another thing, before I forget:  the day before 'low Sunday', I was at the 9th grade confirmation retreat.  I was going through the promises that the confirmands make, helping them to know what promises they are making.  I remember backing up a bit when they promise to 'proclaim the gospel,' to ask them, 'what is the gospel, anyway?  What are we proclaiming? 

And I told them that they were part of the body of Christ, and that they had gifts to share, and that we needed their gifts in our congregation, we needed their voices, their ideas, their thoughts.  One of the girls turned to me and said, "Thank you."

That's the other thing that made my day.

I Came Home From the Confirmation Retreat to Preach on Thomas

Those two things seem to be related to one another.

Our 9th graders are preparing for their confirmation this weekend.  I was with them last night and this morning as they did some serious work, completing Spiritual Gifts Inventories, reading stories out of the Gospel of Matthew, doing some initial thinking about the Faith Statements they will be writing. 

Our evening devotions last night was called "Stations of the Resurrection."  It's based on a now-out-of-print book for teens with scriptures, prayers and reflections for different of the resurrection stories.  They move around to different stations and read the stories and think about the experiences the apostles had.

Their favorite story?  Thomas.

This morning one of the confirmands was looking for a scripture verse about doubt, or even questions.  She has faith, but she has questions, and she wanted to choose a confirmation verse that told her it was okay to have questions.  I told her questions are definitely ok, even courageous, sometimes.

Later on, we were talking about confirmation day, and the promises they will be making.  I told them that when they were baptized God chose them to be one of God's people, and that they had gifts to share with the church.  I told them that now they had the opportunity to publicly say that they wanted to be part of the people of God, part of God's mission in the world, and that they promise to "live among God's faithful people, to hear God's word, and share the Lord's supper...." (among other things.)

We talked about faith.... and doubt.  How some days when one of us is doubting, another one of us feels strong in faith, and how, when we gather, we help each other to keep going, keep following Jesus, even when we have questions. 

Tomorrow, when I preach, one thing I will say is that we come to church to hear the Word, but I don't think that's all we come to church to do.  I think we also come to church to see Jesus.  We come to church to see Jesus, if not in our own lives, in one another's lives.  We come to church because we want to know, again and again, "is it really true?"  Is forgiveness possible?  Can enemies really be reconciled?  Is Love really stronger than death?

I think that is what our confirmation students want to see, too.  They are looking at church leaders, their parents, the people they see at church, and they are not asking for perfection, but they are looking for Jesus in our lives.  Do we sing like we mean it?  Do we know mercy and do mercy?  Are we honest about our own questions, and our own failures, because we know that there is someone greater than our failures?

Tonight, I imagine those 9th graders sitting around the campfire, eating s'mores and telling stories and seeing each other's faces reflected in the glow.  I imagine that tonight they feel strong and committed to follow Jesus, even though they have questions, and even though they still (after three years) don't have any idea of all the places where Jesus might lead them.

Tonight, I believe that it is still Easter, and that Jesus is alive.  Forgiveness is possible.  Love is stronger than death.

Even if you doubt, join us tomorrow.

Especially if you doubt.

A Long Wednesday

Wednesdays are usually long around these parts, because they begin with a weekly Matins service at 8:00, and don't end until confirmation is over at about 7:30.  In between, anything can happen.

I was in charge of the Matins service this morning, the first Wednesday after Easter.  We lit the new paschal candle for the first time, I read the story of Mary at the tomb from John 20, and we scattered a few seeds from the new creation.  (You see, Jesus really is the gardener; Mary M. didn't really make a mistake.)

After snacks and coffee, it was my turn to lead the 9:00 Learning Event: a Bible Study.  The Pastors usually take one Wednesday a year and lead a Bible study.  I can't remember now why I thought the Sunday after Easter would be a good idea.  It may be that I had remembered that Holy Week was not quite as stressful for me, the Associate Pastor.  But this year was different, something I will not elaborate on at this particular time. 

Last week, as I was wracking my brain for one-hour Bible story ideas, I thought about "Lessons from (some) Bible Children".  That's what I did, focussing on Isaac, Miriam, Samuel, David, The Young Maid from the Naaman story, The Boy with the Lunch, and The Little Girl Who Got Up.  My Favorite:  Samuel. 

Afterwards, I had a conversation with a church member about some matters of concern, made a few phone calls, led my "Bag Lunch Bible Study".  Thought that my sermon Title might be, "The Next Week."

I picked up my mother-in-law and brought her to church for a funeral this afternoon.  We sat together, except for the part where I assisted with communion.  Sitting in the pew for a funeral in this church was a rare experience.  I've been the chief presiding for the funerals here for the past (almost) year, until this week.  I alternated between thinking it was a nice break, and feeling a bit blue about not being the one to proclaim the gospel to the family of a woman I had known for thirteen years.   (I am a more-than-fair funeral preacher, if I do say so myself.)

Afterwards, we had more coffee and cake, and I took my mother-in-law home. 

I sent a few e-mails, and went to congregate dining (pizza burgers!) before our confirmation session.  We break from our weekly sessions during Lent, so it was the first time I had seen the students for awhile.  I have seventh graders.  We got updated on our ups and downs, highs and lows, had a moderately successful conversation on a variety of topics, including 'what does it mean to you that Jesus is alive?' (I liked that one.)

At the end of class, we took a few minutes to pray.  I had them each pray this way today,  "I pray for..... (someone or something I care about).  Then we would all say together, "Lord, have mercy."  I modelled by praying for my dad and my mother-in-law.

Then they prayed.  They prayed for the world.  One girl prayed that in the future all wars would be virtual, and no one would die.  One boy prayed for another girls' grandmother, who had cancer.  They prayed for their families.  They prayed for their friends.  They prayed for peace.  Lord, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.

It was the best thing that happened all day.

Some Fragments of an old All Saints' Sermon

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and sin that clings so closely, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us...looking to esus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him eudred the cross, despising its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God."

A few years ago on a wednesday in early November twelve confirmation students were wandering around in a cemetery at dusk.  It was pretty spooky, as you can imagine -- their pastor had forgotten when she scheduled the field trip that daylight saving time would be over and it would already be pretty dark.  So what in the world were they doing there?  Why did they come?

Well, first of all they came because their pastor made them.  They also came because their parents drove them.

But most of all, they were there because it was All Saints Day -- and they were there to remember some saints, and to help their congregations remember them as well.  They came to the cemetery with flashlights, of course -- it was a good thing they had them along -- but they also came to the cemetery with crayons and big sheets of butcher paper.  They were going to find some interesting grave markers at the cemetery and make rubbings.

As their pastor had imagined it, they would find an interesting name or a Bible verse, or maybe even an interesting picture, and then hold the paper over the stone and rub with the crayon until the name and the verse and the picture came through on the paper.

They wandered around in the dark that night in search of saints.  It was so cold they could see their breath.  They held flashlights for one another, did their work and remembered some of the saints among them. 

The next Sunday they intended to display their rubbings on the walls of the churches they attended, so that the whole congregation could remember with them on All Saints Sunday.

...The author of Hebrews spoke of a specific cloud of witnesses from the Old Testament:  Abraham and Sarah, Jacob and Joseph, Moses and Samson and David, all who lived and died believing in God's promises, but not yet seeing Jesus.  Although he remmebers the stories of many famous people, he also mentioned the many who kept the faith but whose names we don't remember, whose stories we don't know.  They too are part of the cloud of witnesses.  When the early church first began the practice of celebrating an "All Saints Day", it recognized this reality:  that there are so many faithful ones, too many to receive their own day, too many for us to name.  The cloud of witnesses is too many to count, even too many for us to remember.  But they all deserve to be remembered, don't they?  Even ordinary saints deserve to be remembered.

....Here's one reason to remember the saints -- their stories tell of God's faithfulness, God's mercy, God's wisdom, God's love.  Their stories tell about how God sustained them on a long sea voyage, thorugh a dusty depression, during times of scarcity and times of abundance, through both companionship and loneliness.  Their lives, whether long or brief, tell of God's tender mercy and love toward them -- and toward us.  their witness says to us -- keep running, it is worth it.

....Finally, we remember especially those saints who have died because they remind us of the place we are running toward, the kingdom of God, the kingdom of justice and mercy that they hoped for, that God has promised.  They remind us of the hope of the resurrection, the hope we have of a joyful reunion with those we love -- in the presence of Jesus.

...Gerhard Frost once saw a scene at an airport of a young family headed on a trip.  The father held the older child's hand, and the child was bursting with excitement.  "Where are we going?" he asked.  "To grandma's," she replied.  She didn't say, "To Fargo," or "To Billings."  To her, they were going to a person and the place hardly mattered.  Perhaps, Frost thought, heaven is not so much a place as a face.  Of this our saints remind us, for we confess that they are now at home with their savior, and that they see him face to face.  While we work in the dark with flashlights, they worship the Lamb in eternal light.

Those twelve confirmation students who walked in a dark cemetery one night remembered well.  So when the light of Sunday morning dawned, we were surrounded, in those little churches, by the names of those wih whom we had worshiped.  As we sang and prayed together, we remembered the grandparents who had died within a year of one another, the beloved daughter and aunt who died of cancer, the bachelor farmer who was always generous with his family of faith.  We remembvered the invalid who wrote poetry, the older sister who couldn't get to the hospital because of a blizzard, the Sunday School teacher who never had children, but who introduced many to Jesus.  We remembered the handicapped son who never spoke, a gracious mother, a secret giver.  We saw, for a little while at least, a small part of the cloud of witnesses that encourage us.  We gave thanks for their lives.  But most of all, we gave thanks for God's faithfulness to them, God's love which kept them going -- and that keeps us going as well.

So keep running, you saints of God's faithfulness and love surround you as certainly as this cloud of witnesses surrounds you.  God remembers you, and in the end, God will bring you out of the darkness into the presence of his Son, to celebrate together with the saints in light.  Amen

Scout Enjoys Helping to Collect Food for Food Shelf

Wednesday was our first "Service Project Night" For confirmation this year.  I had proposed a couple of weeks ago, that our two seventh grade groups (one group of girls and one of boys) have a scavanger hunt for our local food shelf, VEAP (Volunteers Enlisted to Assist People.)    What this means is that the young people would go door to door, collecting canned and boxed goods for those who had some to spare, and at the end of the evening, we would see what we had collected, and which group had gotten the most.

Just to make it fun, we say that each group should try to get one food group for each letter of the alphabet. 

I'll be honest:  I had been feeling poorly all day, and I wasn't in top form for Service Project Night.  But it was a beautiful evening, and I was starting to feel a little better by the time the boys all arrived.  One of the girls had thrown down the gauntlet:  "I bet you won't be able to collect as much as we will!"  So the boys were raring to go, all talking about how they were going to show those girls, even though the girls had the advantage with their "puppy dog eyes".

I decided that it would be fun to get Scout involved in the project, so we stopped first at my house to get Scout and some bags for collecting.  She followed us up and down the street, sniffing the grass, straining to see who was at the door, occasionally getting to meet another dog, or a small child who would pet her. 

We made sure to stop in at one house where I knew the couple were advocates for VEAP.  I heard the woman say to the boys, "We go to that church!".  She told them she didn't have any extra canned goods but she gave them $20.

Scout had a good time with this family's dog, a friendly golden retriever.  They circled and sniffed.

So, laden down with many groceries, we returned Scout to our house, and drove back to church.  My husband said that, after we left, Scout went from window to window for several minutes, looking for us, excited and hopeful.

And, by the way, the boys got the most groceries, but the girls actually followed the directions, getting a food item from A to Z.

I almost missed today....

It's early in the month, and, without really saying anything, I had decided to post something every day in November. (November is the month, and all that.) But here it is, almost 10:00 Central Standard Time, and I didn't get anything up today.

Oops. It's kind of early to give up.

Lately, I have a lot on my mind. Some of it is very complicated, and will take awhile to sort out. I've been thinking a lot about the Lutheran Core and the Word Alone, how, long ago I used to go to North Heights Church, a charismatic (Lutheran) church which I now regard as kind of scary. But more on that later.

Here are a few of my random thoughts:

1. I feel passionate about social justice, but I love the gospel.
2. I knit backwards. I just read a book that says that left-handed people don't have to knit backwards; after all, you knit with both hands. You CAN learn to knit just like everybody else. I'm not sure that's true about ME, though.
3. I've been reading a lot of poetry lately, some ouf of a book called Beloved on the Earth, which are poems dealing with grief.
4. My dad is probably coming home from the nursing home tomorrow.
5. My mom needs to go to Arizona soon to clean out their old place. She needs someone to drive with her. I would love to, but I live as a very over-scheduled pastor. Lately, I've been thinking: what does a healthy, balanced life look like?
6. In a healthy, balanced life, I would have time to cook simple suppers more often.
7. At the Celebration of Confirmation last night, we learned about all kinds of thirst, many kinds of thirst. The thirst for love. The thirst for meaning. The thirst for belonging. We also learned that there are people in this world who are literally dying of thirst, because there are not wells with clean water for them to drink.

I'm thirsty for a little compassion, I'm thirsty for time, I'm thirsty for the freedom not to feel like I have to "meet or exceed expectations" all the time. But that doesn't begin to describe it.

What are you thirsty for?

Worth it

Yesterday I went to the 8th grade confirmation retreat. Today I came home with a migraine, and one that didn't respond to imitrex or the nausea medicine I have but hardly ever use.

It wasn't that the retreat was so difficult. They're a good group of young people. They are 8th graders, which means giggling is mandatory at times, but they are very earnest and serious students, and, for the most part, they support and encourage each other as well.

I did a little session of "Praying in Color" with them this morning.

But that wasn't the main point of the retreat.

Our 8th grade retreat theme is "Holy Week." We have a Palm Sunday Parade with whatever we can pick up off the ground. We have an interactive teaching regarding how subversive Jesus' teaching really was: why was it that the religious and political authorities were so angry and afraid of him? We wash each other's feet, and, on Saturday evening, we put Jesus on trial. Everyone takes a part. There is a prosecuting and a defense attorney and witnesses for the defense and prosecution. Everyone spends time studying their part from the Bible.

One young woman played Simon Peter. She's a witness for the defense, of course, but her part secretly instructs her that she must deny Jesus during her cross-examination. She really struggled with this. When the time came for the prosecution to questions her, she ended up saying, at one point, "I didn't really know him very well."

The defense objected. (They had to be told that you can only object to the questions, not the answers.) At one point they looked at each other and said, "She turned on us."

Betrayal.

This morning we read all of the resurrection stories, from all of the gospels. The first story was from Mark: The messenger said: "Go tell my disciples and Peter that he is not here; he has risen." The students noticed right away that that seemed odd. Why do you suppose the messenger announced it that way?

Maybe because Peter, or the others, didn't consider him a disciple any more. Maybe because Jesus wanted Peter to know that despite his betrayal, he still wanted Peter to follow him.

We all got one less hour of sleep on Saturday night, of course; maybe that was the reason for the headache. I don't know.

But now that I'm feeling better, and I remember that one statement. I think, despite the pain, it was worth it.

He still wants me to follow him, too.

Confirmation Sunday

You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.
--- Psalm 16:11 ---


The path of life to me unknown,
through your word it now is shown.
Though the road goes up and down,
your loving face shows not a frown.
You’ve made my life eternally blessed,
my faith to you I have confessed.
Your followers Janet, Jon, Gene have found,
your heavenly body above sacred ground.
You lead the way through bad and good,
in you the strong have stood.
You strengthen, you cure, you love all

I know you will never let me fall.

A follower I intend to be
forever faithful as you speak to me.
An answered prayer I always seek,
for love, for hope, for a higher peak.
I wait for you in the shadows,
like a lamb in the meadows.
I look for you in the stars,
and see you in the flowers, the clouds, in passing cars.
I follow in your footsteps like a winding trail,
not sure where you’re taking me, but I won’t bail.
Send me an angel from your side,
uncover my path do not hide.
I will come out unscathed,
by your love I’ve been bathed.
In my Confirmation adventure
my path is still unsure,
I believe you will lead me to use talents

and keep me on my track to balance. -- Alison O.

Today was confirmation for 20 young people in our congregation. At our last service this morning, they said the prayers, read the lessons, carried the cross and torches, helped with communion. They led the service, except presiding at the communion.

Outside in the narthex, their faith statements and banners they had created were displayed for everyone to see. This is one faith statement; she and her parents gave me permission to share it here. Enjoy!

Sunday Sermon: Pentecost

"Varieties of Gifts"

A number of years ago, a popular children’s book imagined a brightly colored fish swimming through a great sea. I think at least a part of the book’s appeal, at least with young children, were the glittery images of the different scales on this special fish. He was called – for obvious reasons – The Rainbow Fish. And he loved and was proud of his brightly colored scales – who wouldn’t be? – and he was very offended when a little blue fish, an ordinary fish, came up to him and asked him: could he please give him one of his bright shining scales? Just a little one, please.
Of course, he wouldn’t give up one of this scales! Those were the things that made him beautiful! They belonged to him! And the beautiful Rainbow Fish swam away from the little blue fish.

Today is a kind of a "Rainbow Day" – for it is the Day of Pentecost, the day that the Holy Spirit fell on the disciples, all gathered in one place. It was a day of brightness, and great power – the colors of fire and the sound of wind, a day God opened God’s hand and poured forth gifts on ordinary people, scared people, wondering people. A variety of gifts came down from heaven, and caused ordinary disciples to do things they never imagined that they would do. So what do we do to make this day special?Some of us wear red – a bright color – to try to capture the passion, the excitement of that day long ago. Sometimes a congregation will try to capture the energy by hearing the readings in different languages, or bringing wind chimes, or some other sound effect – what can we do really to help us to experience what it was like on that day? One moment the disciples are inside the house, together – the next they are outside – with tongues of fire dancing on their heads and the word of God dancing on their lips. That’s what is looked like, when the apostles first received the gifts of the Spirit: a rainbow of color and sound.

The gifts of the Spirit: that’s what Paul is talking about as well, in our lesson from first Corinthians. "There are varieties of gifts, but the same spirit," he tells them. "There are varieties of services, but the same Lord, and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone." So the Holy Spirit that fell down on the believers on Pentecost kept falling on Christians – even in Corinth – giving them a variety of gifts, glittery and beautiful. And the Holy Spirit that fell on Pentecost – and that fell on the Corinthians – as well falls on us, here and now, and gives us as well a variety, a rainbow of gifts.

Except that with the Corinthians, there was a problem. And we get an inkling of the problem as we read Paul’s letter, when he tells them: "To each is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good." It seems that the Christians in Corinth were acting a little like the Rainbow Fish – they were proud of their beautiful gifts, and they used them to compete with each other, to try to figure out who was better. They thought that the gifts they had received were for their own benefit only, and not for the sake of one another – for the common good, as Paul writes. So what was supposed to be a good thing turned out to be the cause of pride and arguing and division. There are many gifts – Paul reminds us – but only one Lord, only one God – and our many gifts are be used for one another’s sake, for the "common good".

The common good – we hear this phrase sometimes, in a political way, and in fact, Paul is borrowing it from the political life of his own day. But what does it mean? I once heard a friend of mine talking about living in a cooperative versus a condominium. They seem similar in many ways. Both are places where people live together. They are something like apartment buildings, but they are different. He explained the difference this way: "In a condominium you think about what’s good for ME. In a cooperative, you think about what’s good for us – and that’s good for me."

To me, that’s also a good description of "the common good" – there are some things that are just good for me, but there are also things that are good for us, for all of us, that make our community better – more beautiful, more just. Paul writes that the many varieties of spiritual gifts that have been given to us as Christians are not simply for our own benefit, but to share with one another. Then he recites a list of gifts: wisdom and knowledge, healing and miracles and tongues – not in an attempt to limit our minds about God’s gifts, but I think to expand them. There are probably many more gifts than these listed: gifts of listening as well as speaking, gifts of compassion and mercy, gifts of hospitality. Paul wants to open our minds to the many gifts that the Spirit is giving to us – and to those around us. For I think the Corinthians had a limited vision of both God’s gifts – and of who could have them.

You know there are two pitfalls for us when we think about the subject of gifts of the Spirit. And one is the pitfall that the Rainbow Fish fell into: He believed that his beautiful scales were given just for him, to make him beautiful. The first one is pride – and a temptation to think of ourselves as better than someone else. But there’s another temptation as well – and that’s the temptation to think that we don’t have any gifts, that what we do isn’t valuable, that we are useless. Perhaps it’s either because we are too young or too old. Perhaps because we think we are too small and insignificant. Perhaps it is because others put us down, and tell us we don’t know what we’re talking about. Sometimes you might be tempted to just give up, because others are ignoring you, don’t think you have a contribution to make.

I remember many years ago seeing a cover of the Lutheran that shocked me. It was a picture of a starving child in the Sudan. I remember that it was so painful to see that in our house, we kept it face down on our coffee table. And I remember that many people wrote letters to the editor of the Lutheran, protesting because they had put such an image on the cover of their magazine. And finally, I remember hearing that a Sunday School class somewhere had seen that picture, and decided to collect pennies to send to those children. "If everyone would do a little, it would be a lot, and there would be no more starving children," they said. And I am glad that no one told them that they did not have a gift to share, for the common good. I think they had the gift of faith: what do you think?

I was privileged to go to the 9th grade confirmation retreat last weekend. One of the things we do on the retreat (besides not get much sleep) is to complete a "Spiritual Gifts Inventory" on Friday night. There some of the students discover that they have the gift of Leadership, others Encouragement, some the gift of Service and others Administration, or Mercy, or Hospitality. Then on Saturday, they spend the afternoon at doing a "challenge course" where they spend about 3 hours using these gifts (and others) for the "common good": to complete challenges that they could not do alone. The different tasks required coordination and imagination, leadership and compassion – and many other gifts, too many to be numbered. And they required that the students learn to work together for the good of all.

There is one more pitfall, too, when we consider the gifts of the spirit: and that is to forget what OUR common good is. For us who gather here this morning, and for the apostles who gathered on that first Pentecost: Our common good is the common mission of going out into the world, and sharing the love of God in word and deed. Our common good is to share – not just with one another – but with our neighbors and with strangers, with friends and with enemies – the hope that is in us. Our common good is to share God's wide and forgiving love -- and do it with words and deeds of mercy and justice.

We have a beautiful gospel, a story of a God who loves us each in all of our variety, who came to heal us and forgive us and to share his life with us, and to die for us. We have a beautiful gospel of a God who took a small band of ordinary people – gave them a mission, gave them gifts, and made them into a Church. And in this Church, even one of us, from the youngest to the oldest, from the richest to the poorest, has gifts to share – with us, and with the world.

At the end of the story of the Rainbow Fish, the little Rainbow fish finally learns to share. It is a difficult lesson for him, but he starts to give away his beautiful scales, one by one, to the other fish in the sea. Finally, all he has left is one beautiful scale – but the sea is filled with color, and filled with life, and filled with glittering fish. That is the vision for us as well: to go out and share our many gifts, so that finally, in the end, the whole world is filled with the love of God in Christ.
AMEN

Campfire Burn, and other pleasures of retreating

This weekend the 9th grade confirmation students and four adults (including me) spent time in a cabin by a lake northwest of here, preparing for their confirmation day. Friday evening was a cold, rainy, muddy, dismal mess: a tough beginning for us, as we holed up in the lodge, writing and reading furiously. It was a pretty serious evening, until after evening devotions. At bedtime, the giggling and loud whispering always begins, at least for girls.

We shared the lodge with a group of developmentally disabled adults from a Catholic church in our city. At one point Friday evening, there was a knock on our door, and two men called out, "We're lost! We're trying to find the lodge!" I tried to explain that they were not far off. They just needed to go around to the upstairs door. But they kept saying, "We're lost! We're lost!" until I decided to lead them through the chaotic disarray of students upstairs to where their group was gathering.

I don't know much about their retreat time, except that sometime on Saturday they were going to make pretzels. And every once in awhile, while we were having our one on one conversations, we would hear them singing:

I am hope for all who are hopeless
I am eyes for all who long to see
In the shadows of the night, I will be your light
Come and rest in Me.

Do not be afraid, I am with you
I have called you each by name
Come and follow Me
I will bring you home
I love you and you are mine.



Saturday was beautiful, clear and cold. The "challenge course", with 3 and 1/2 hours of low ropes and team-building exercises, turned out to be exhausting and meaningful. One by one students spoke of their deepening trust in one another. The course is not so physically challenging, although some parts are easier for those who are more coordinated and athletic by nature. But the challenge is to work together, to share leadership, and to not leave anyone behind.

Saturday night the final activity was a campfire. Out in the dark, one of the students said, "We look good in the fire. We're glowing." It was true: we were glowing, and our hair smelled like wood and fire, and our faces were red with campfire burn. Everyone shared the most meaningful parts of the retreat, and prayed for each other. They were sad now, that their three years of study were coming to an end.

I had three girls in the car with me, driving home on Sunday. They were tired, but they couldn't sleep, they said. I put in a CD, one of my favorites. "I like that song," one of them said. "What is it?"



Somehow it seemed so right -- for all weekend, I heard the sounds of young people, finding their one voice, claiming their identities as children of God, trying, in faith, to sing and to live together in harmony.

But don't stop praying for them, okay?

We interrupt this blog....

I will be off-line this weekend at a retreat for our ninth grade confirmation students, who will be writing faith statements, designing banners and in other ways preparing for their Confirmation Day.

I am hoping for good weather as a "Challenge Course" is one of their retreat activities tomorrow.

And I'm a little nervous. The "Challenge Course" is not strenuous, but last year, after the retreat, I developed a back spasm that sent me to the doctor and had me in intense pain. I really don't want that to happen again.

P.S. I will read more Friday Fives when I return on Sunday!

Now, I need to finish packing, buy communion bread, and find a rain coat (for if it isn't good weather.)

Grace

There are many deep and complicated things weighing on my mind right now -- things I believe I have responsibility to think about and comment on and perhaps even, in some way, take action on. But right now, before I think about any of those things, I want to meditate on a moment of grace I experienced today.

Our 7th grade confirmation class is unusually small this year. I had a group of 6 girls for the past three years. They were serious and questioning Christians (not because of me: they all have good parents), and it was a pleasure knowing them. Last May they were confirmed.

This year there are just two in my small group. (I do teach large group classes as well; these are the ones I have been chosen to mentor.) So, we have been thinking that is just too small and that they would enjoy it more if we put them in with another group of four girls.

Tonight, I substituted for a mentor who was sick. And the other mentor, who had my two girls for the first time, floated to them the idea that they might permanently stay with her group.

They want to stay with me.

They like our little group.

That's all I can say about it. Really, I'm practically speechless.

Except to say, that I feel a little bit like the 13 year old who has just been allowed to sit with the cool girls.

After Confirmation

Yesterday was confirmation for sixteen of our ninth graders. I've been mentoring a group of girls for three years, so I was especially touched as I led worship that day. The Senior Pastor preached (we take turns), and I think he got something in his sermon from everyone's faith statement.

We always have a rehearsal on Saturday, because the confirmands lead the whole service the next day (except presiding at communion). We're kind of hard on them on Saturday, because we know that on Sunday they will be nervous and forget a lot of things. At one point all of the readers were lined up and the other pastor was making a big point about how how they should stand (reverently) and where they should look (toward altar) and where they should get their cues (from me).

Then yesterday morning, I was standing at the altar. The congregation was singing the "Gloria." All of the students came up to the chancel and stood in a line as we had rehearsed. Suddenly I noticed: they were all turned toward the altar, and looking at me.

And they were smiling.

I didn't get a chance to address the confirmands yesterday, except in the words of the liturgy. But as I saw them all dressed up and smiling, I thought about my own confirmation, many years ago. I was smiling pretty hard that day: there were 23 of us in that small congregation's baby boom generation. It was pretty 70's: I wore white boots and had a shag haircut, popular at the time (I hope it never comes back). I had on a lavender checked dress with a ruffle, made by my mother.

I have two sets of godparents, one is pretty dyed-in-the-wool Lutheran and the other Lutheran Pentecostal types. Both serious Christians, though, and both came to my confirmation. The Pentecostal types noticed how hard I was smiling and said that if I had really understood what I was doing, I would be crying. I suppose they meant that I would cry because I would realize the magnitude of what Jesus had done for me.

Yesterday, the confirmation students were smiling. And I felt like crying.

I believe that they were probably smiling for some of the same reasons I smiled: because they were proud of the things they had done in 3 years, and they were looking forward to the party and the fun with all of their friends and family, because they really do want to be regarded as an adult in the church from now on, because they're glad to be done with this time of studying.

As for me, I was crying because I was proud of them -- I knew how far they had come. They were little girls three years ago. Now they were young women. They had stood together with a friend when her mother died. They had supported each other and included each other even though they go to different schools and have different interests. They had come a long way, and I want to make sure that the church does include them as adult members and values their gifts.

But I was crying also because I know how far they still have to go. I know that their faith statements are only the "first try" at what it means to be a person of faith, a disciple in the world. I know that, as some of them have experienced pain and doubt already, they will experience those things in the future, as they follow Jesus and fall away, and return again. And I was crying because I want to be there for them, and I know that I can't be. All I can do is give them a book of prayers, and promise to pray for them, and really pray for them.

Each of their journeys will be so individual, and yet will be trod in the company of other saints. And I will miss our weekly study and fellowship sessions, probably more than they will.

"I give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers..."

Cookies

Last Wednesday, I had four of my 9th confirmation students over to bake cookies. They had been begging -- actually, one of them had been begging -- ever since the ninth grade retreat that they should bake cookies together before their confirmation. The one who begged said she had the best recipe for chocolate chip cookies, except that her recipe used Heath bits instead. So I went out and bought some Heath bits and made her promise to bring her recipe to confirmation.

Last Wednesday, she did not come to confirmation class. She had a band concert. But we were still committed to the cookie-baking idea, so they all piled into my Toyota and sped over to my house, where we did the fastest and most cursory confirmation lesson in the 2,000 year history of confirmation. (Sample question: Why is it called the Lord's supper? Sample Answer: Because it is a supper, and because it is the Lord's.) I had them working on some things together while I pulled out bowls and measuring cups and flour and sugar. Oh, and a recipe. What recipe would I use??? Luckily, there was a recipe on the back of the Heath bits package, and it was awesome. This is it:

1/2 cup shortening
3/4 cup Reese's Creamy Peanut Butter (I used whatever peanut butter we had)
1 1/4 cups packed light brown sugar
3 tablespoons milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 egg
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1-1/3 cups (8 oz. pkg) Heath Milk Chocolate Toffee Bits, divided

Heat oven to 375F. Beat shortening, peanut butter, brown sugar, milk and vanilla in large bowl until well blended. Add egg; beat just until blended. Combine flour, baking soda and salt; gradually beat into peanut butter mixture. Stir in 1 cup toffee bits; reserve remainder for topping. Drop by heaping teaspoons about 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheet, top each with reserved toffee bits. Bake 7 - 8 minutes or until set. Do not overbake. Cool 2 minutes. Remove to wire rack. Cool completely. About 3 dozen cookies.

All four girls took turns mixing and measuring and dropping and sprinkling. Nobody yelled at each other that they weren't doing it right, even when one girl spilled milk she was measuring into the batter. We did deviate from the recipe in one way: they all agreed that we should sprinkle the remaining bits right after the cookies came out of the oven.

Everyone took a few cookies home. I still have one bag of toffee bits left. Anyone?