Sermon for Pentecost: "Whose Spirit Is it Anyway?"

Acts 2:1-21; Numbers 11:24-30

“Whose Spirit is it, anyway?”  2017

           

            I don’t know if you have noticed much, but we have been lighting a particular candle every week since Easter

            We have been lighting this beautiful, large candle, the one right here in front of the altar, every week. 

            But today is the last Sunday we will light it for a long time.

            There is something sort of sad about this for me. 

            I love light, and candles, and fire (as long as it’s safe). 

            I love a good campfire, when we are sitting around in the dark sharing stories, singing songs, whispering prayers. 

            And what does it mean, anyway? 

            What does it mean that we light this candle, and that after today we won’t light it any more?

            It has something to do with Jesus’ resurrection – but Jesus is still risen, so why would we not just go on and light this candle every single week? 

            That wouldn’t be a bad idea, would it? 

            We would light the candle and remember what we said on Easter, that “Christ is risen” and we would all answer, “He is risen indeed.”

            But we don’t do that.

            And to find out why we have to go back.. we have to go way back… we have to go REALLY far back to the book of Numbers in the Old Testament,

            to the story about Moses and the 70 elders that we read this morning.

             This story takes place while the people of Israel are wandering in the wilderness.

             They are wandering in the wilderness, and it’s going to take them awhile to get to the promised land.

             They are wandering and they are hungry and they are complaining to God. 

            Even Moses is complaining, because he’s feeling the weight of being the leader of all of these people, and there’s only one of him. 

            So God is hearing all of this grumbling and complaining, and he gives the people food – manna and quail, to be specific – and he also finds some leaders who will share Moses’ spirit – 70 of them to be exact.         So Moses would not have to do everything all by himself. 

            There were others. 

            And God put some of the Spirit on them, and they prophesied.  But Just once.

            But there’s this odd thing that happens. 

            There are 70 people who are in the authorized place, who prophesy. 

            But there are these two, Eldad and Medad, who are not where they are supposed to be, and they prophesy too.   (light a couple more candles). 

            And it seems that there is some anxiety about this.  Somehow the rules are not being followed.

             Someone is getting some Spirit who shouldn’t be getting the Spirit. 

            And we should stop this from happening! 

            But Moses actually is not bothered about this at all, and says instead that he wishes that ALL of God’s people would be prophets.

            Prophets.  What does it mean? 

            Moses wishes all of God’s people would be prophets. 

            I’ll bet you never thought of that as a name for yourself. 

            Child of God.  Yes.  Image of God.  I hope so.

             Sheep of the shepherd, Living stone?  But prophet? 

            What does it mean? 

            It does have something to do with this light right here. 

            And it has something to do with spirit.  Light and spirit. 

            They go together. 

            And God wishes that all of God’s people would be prophets. 

            Has wished it for a long time.

             Ever since the wilderness, when the Spirit spilled out – just for a little it – on Eldad and Medad. 

            To be a prophet.  We still think it has something to do with foretelling the future sometimes, having a crystal ball, when it has more to do with speaking God’s truth. 

            Dreaming God’s dreams.  Seeing God’s visions.  Carrying God’s light.

            Yes.  (light a couple of candles).

            Being able to having enough light to see the love of God, and share it… To carry the spirit of God, the spirit that raised Jesus from the dead – and in some way or another – to share it. 

            To bring light where there is darkness.  Light where there is death.  Hope where there is despair.

             That’s what it means to be a prophet.

            So.  This brings us to today. 

            Pentecost Sunday.

            On that day the disciples were all together in a room.  They were waiting. 

            On that day there were people gathered in Jerusalem, because it was  a Jewish festival 50 days after Passover. 

            So they were already gathered for one purpose. 

            But while the people were gathered, and while the apostles were waiting, the wind blew so hard everyone could hear it and the tongues of fire danced so brightly that they could see it, and there was light and there was noise, and the apostles were ALL like Medad and Eldad –

            It wasn’t just one person testifying – they were all testifying.

            There wasn’t just one person who held all of the spirit. 

            There were all of these people sharing the spirit. 

            And there wasn’t just one person who was bearing the light.  They were all bearing the light  All of them.

            That’s what Pentecost was.

            The dreams and visions of God, now a part of the disciples.

            The light of God.  Now a part of the didsciples.

            The spirit of God – the spirit that raised Jesus from the dead – now a part of the disciples.

            (I shared the story of the two men in Portland who stood up for the teenage girls who were threatened, and the last words of one who said, “Tell everyone on this train that I love them.”  I said this was his one prophecy.)

            So after today, the light of this candle will be extinguished.  We won’t be lighting it any more.  You can come back here and unless there is a baptism – the candle won’t be lit.  And if you have ever wondered why

            Here’s why that it

            Because the light is in you now.  

            The Spirit is in you.

            It is you who go out into the world, to be light and hope and love to people who so much need to know, need to feel, need to see it.

            It is you who feed the hungry, it is you who lay hands on the sick, it is you who tell about God’s mighty acts, not only in the Bible but in your life.

            But here’s the thing:  remember that the light you bear – starts here.

            Not in this sanctuary, exactly, but in this gathering, among this people, and with the one who died and rose.

            We gather in grace, grow in Grace – and Go in Grace – and it is God’s grace that fills us.

            It is not your life, not your power, not your spirit, but the Spirit of God lives in you.

            Your small candle is a part of this large candle, and even though we can’t see it – the light still shines.

            AMEN

Sermon for Easter 4: The Gift of Community

Acts 2:42-47/John 10:1-10

            May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen.

            Back when I was living in Japan, my parents came to visit me. They spent three weeks with me, sightseeing and traveling around.

             We also toured the school where I taught and we met some people who gave them an idea of the mission of the Japanese Lutheran Churches. 

            I remember one day they met a man who wove hand-made baskets for a living.   

            What I remember about him was that he made these beautiful handmade baskets (My parents bought one – or maybe he gave them one), that he was disabled, and that he had a Christian testimony that he shared with them.

             If I remember right (and it has been many years now) someone gave him a Bible.

             He started reading the Bible, and he believed in Jesus and became a Christian just because of what he read. 

            That was amazing to me.

             Much as I believe that the Word of God has power, it is amazing that he came to Christ just by sitting in his room and reading it .

             He also said that for many years he had no way to get to church and didn’t know of any churches, so on Sundays he would read the Bible and pray in his house.

            That is a particular vision of what it means to be a Christian. 

            It is about our individual relationship with Christ. 

            It is about our own private devotion to Jesus.

             But it is not the vision that we have in Acts 2.  In this reading – which follows directly after Pentecost – one of the basic elements of being a Christian is being together. 

            And it is being a community in simple, but very particular ways.  They are:  devotion to the apostles teaching, to the community, to their shared meals, and to their prayers.  

            The church that formed on Pentecost found these the basic building blocks, the foundation, of their lives.  And it was a life together.

            So on Pentecost  the Spirit descended on the disciples who were gathered.  

            They spoke about God’s love and mighty acts in many languages.  Peter preached a powerful sermon.

             And on that day 3,000 people were baptized.  3,000!  

            So when I talk about Christian community as authentic community, please know that I am not necessarily talking about a small group.   

            But it is a group that sees devotion to Jesus as being about devotion to one another. 

            The community was one of true caring, learning and growing in Christ together, sharing their lives with one another, sharing meals – including Holy Communion – with one another –

             and praying with – and for – each other. 

            This community was not about ‘friendliness’ --- but about real friendship. 

            And one of the ways I see this manifested at Grace is in the fact that it is not just me that is willing to go and visit shut-ins and go to the hospital, but that we have a small group of visitors here who also go out with communion, with prayers and with friendship to visit. 

            One woman said this, after visitors from her congregation came to visit, “I wasn’t able to come to church, so the church came to me!” 

            Exactly. 

            That’s what community looks like. 

            In our Sunday morning class, we’ve been studying the Apostles Creed. 

            Last week we talked about the church.

             We might hear the word ‘church’ and immediately think about a building – this building – what a ‘church’ looks like to us. 

            But the word ‘church’ in Greek – the word is ‘ekklesia’ – really means a gathered people. 

            It is the people who have been called out and who have been gathered together. 

            It is the people who have heard their shepherd’s voice and who have been called together in community

            – to devote themselves to teaching, to share each other’s lives in deep commitment, to break bread together, and to pray – to experience the presence of God – and to share that with one another.   

            They are called out and they are called together, to share the mission of God, to share the love of God.

            And this – authentic community – is something that people are hungry for. 

            People want to be known.  Don’t get me wrong.  It is a little frightening to be known. 

            It’s vulnerable.  There is a downside.  We can be hurt, and we can hurt each other. 

            That’s why forgiveness is also essential for communities. 

            But there is also something powerful in this – in people who are willing to surround you with love in the middle of a crisis, -- in people who are willing to listen to you and pray with you,

            in people who are willing to roll up their sleeves and go out to serve with you

             – in people who are willing to crack open God’s word with you, and even admit that they don’t understand everything about it. 

            It’s powerful.  It’s life-giving.

            And there are two things that happen when we practice community – the first is that we become more generous. 

            Because we see that we belong to one another, and this is our community and we want to pool our resources so that we can do more things together. 

            We become generous with our time, and our gifts and our resources, so that everyone here – and people who are around us – can experience God’s generosity – God’s abundance.

            The second thing that happens is that we grow.  It’s true.  The early church grew.  The community was contagious.  People wanted to be a part of it. 

            Where have you experienced true community?  At Grace?  Somewhere else?

            How has it changed your life?

            How has this community been a gift to you?

            (write on an index card anonymously and put them in  the offering basket)

           

           

            The man my parents and I met in Japan – the one who became a Christian all alone by reading the Bible –his story has stuck with me in part I think because it seemed so unusual. 

            I can’t imagine coming to faith without people – witnesses – surrounding me, showing me the love of God, making those Bible stories real in my life. 

            But that’s what happened to him. 

            But of course, that’s not the end of his story.  When we met him, he was no longer alone.

             No, somehow a group of Christians found him – Lutherans from a place called Kosa Church. 

            They had a ministry to people who were disabled, and somehow they found him and invited him to come to church and worship with them. 

            They even offered to pick him up. 

            Of course he was eager to go and worship and study and pray with other Christians. 

            He became a member of Kosa Church – he was baptized there (even though he believed in Jesus he had never been baptized.) 

            The church often shared meals after worship on Sunday, and, just like that New Testament Church, they prayed together. 

            He met the woman who would become his wife.

             He continued to make his bamboo baskets, and he gave much of the proceeds of his work to the mission of his congregation. 

             He wanted people just like him to know the love of Jesus and not be alone. 

            In this world of isolation, in this world where we are so encouraged to go it alone and make it on our own – true community, authentic community – is a gift.

             It is a gift of the resurrection.  It is a gift of life – abundant life – life together. 

            And it is ours – to share.

            Amen

      Image by Vonda Drees.  Used by permission.      

The Call of Ananias

On Sunday, we hear the story from John 21 of Jesus and Peter on the beach.  Jesus asks Peter three times, "Do you love me?" and three times Peter answers, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."  Then Jesus calls him, "Feed my sheep."  We also hear about how Saul became the apostle Paul, on the road to Damascus.  Here he was, on the way to persecute the followers of The Way, and out of the blue, Jesus speaks to him, too:  "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?"  There he is struck blind, and when he sees again, he has a new calling as a follower of Jesus and a missionary to the Gentiles.

On one Sunday, we hear stories of two of the main characters from the New Testament.

But I can't help being drawn to Ananias.

Who is Ananias?  In all of the drama of the story of Saul, we might not notice another drama taking place on the sidelines.  It is the drama of God, telling Ananias to go and heal Saul.

It is clear that Saul is the main character in this drama.  God even says that to Ananias.  "Go, for he is my chosen instrument," God says.  We are supposed to focus our attention on Saul.  We are supposed to consider his turn-around life, his passion, his calling.

But I can't help being drawn to Ananias, instead.

Perhaps it is because, in my extremely brief theatre career, I mostly played small parts.  I was the 2nd maiden from the left, a member of the crowd.  Sometimes I had one glorious line.  Once, in a church production of Camelot, I got to sing a wonderful solo as Nimue, the enchantress who lures Merlin away near the beginning of the play.  Unfortunately, my part was heard but completely unseen, from behind a curtain.

I am good at playing the small parts.

Or maybe it's because I tend to look around the edges of things, at the margins, even outside the margins sometimes.  Maybe it is because I am just a little bit subversive, deep down inside.  I am always wondering about the people who get left out, whose stories are not told, whose names we don't know.  I can't help being suspicious of what seems important.  We know so much about Paul, and his adventures, and his churches, and his letters.

And then there is Ananias.  He just gets this short scene in one chapter of the books of Acts.  God tells him to go to Saul, and heal him.  God is sending Ananias into the lion's den, right into the jaws of the man who has vowed to eradicate the followers of Jesus from the earth.  Ananias understandably has a word of protest.  He has this brief, "Wait a minute...." moment, where he questions God's wisdom.

And then he goes, and he heals Saul.

It's a small part.  It's off on the margins, something you notice out of the corner of your eye.  Or maybe Saul is so loud and passionate and such a force for the church that you don't notice Ananias at all.

I can't help thinking, though, that a lot of God's work in the world is like this.

I once did a project where I asked people to send me their faith stories, which I would publish in a booklet and distribute to the congregation.  So many people told me, "I don't have a faith story."  But then we got to talking and it turned out that they did.  It may have been the story of their prayers during their child's illness, or how God guided them from work in one city to another.  It may have been a story from their courtship and marriage, something they learned from their great-uncle or taught their niece.  But they were small stories, not big ones.  

Still, when I think of the scene back in Damascus, when I imagine the hands of Ananias, I can't help imagine that they are really the hands of Jesus, in a cameo role.

A lot of God's work in the world is like this.  It looks like a cameo role.  But it is really the main thing.