A Sermon for Christmas Eve

This is the sermon I preached Christmas Eve 2017.  I woke up this morning needing to hear these words, and I thought perhaps you do, too.  Merry Christmas, Beloved. God is with us.

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This is the night!  This is the night!  This is the night in which God put on flesh and came to dwell among us.

At the Easter Vigil I said that THAT was the night “Without tonight, Lent, Advent, Epiphany, even Christmas…without tonight, none of the rest of it matters. Without tonight, our preaching is worthless, and our faith is in vain.”  

And that is true.  Without the public execution of Jesus of Nazareth, would we have ever known the story of the life of the Word made flesh?  

This is what I am learning:  the life of Jesus is just as redemptive as his death.  

Growing up, I never understood why Christmas was such a big deal.  Looking at it with a child’s eyes, I thought that if Easter was the festival upon which our faith hangs, then why did we make such a much bigger deal out of Christmas?  And furthermore, why is Christmas inflated to be larger than it actually is?  We don’t tend to celebrate Christmas during the 12 days of Christmas (which begin on the 25th, by the way).  And secular culture has nearly overtaken our Christmas celebrations…there were decorations in stores after Halloween this year.  Christmas creeps earlier and earlier into the year.  Why is Christmas so important to so many people who otherwise are not observant?  And why are we so willing and impatient to get to Christmas?  Even in this congregation, where we intentionally observe Advent…the time of reflection and repentance and waiting…we sang this morning Christmas hymns!  And I helped put out the poinsettias on Advent 3…jumping the liturgical gun just a bit.  

But what I see with adult eyes (I think) is that the world is weary and aching and still desperately lost in deep deep darkness.  And we need to be reminded that God chose and God chooses to live among us.  And we cling to the joy of Christmas, pulling it closer and closer in the ways we know how…hoping that the the right dress, best music, movies from our childhoods, Grandma’s nut bars, and find the right gift will bring that joy to us.  Will mend our broken hearts.  Will fill the emptiness which can be so very overpowering…especially when the world seems dim, the news seems bleak, and we recognize that we don’t have the power to change what needs changing on our own.

Being human is very, very hard.  We have to be kind when we don’t want to be.  We have to suffer real physical pain.  We have to suffer real emotional pain when marriages don’t work out, when our families leave us because of death or separation, when when we feel utterly alone. 

But God chose to dress in our bodies and live among us.  God chose to come to the world in the most vulnerable way.  As a newborn, capable of not much more than moving his bowels and weeping with cold or hunger or fright.  A newborn with that super soft-spot on the top of his head and that sweet smell of milk under his chin.  A newborn with starfish hands and those sweet little puppy sounds.  Just the way we each come into this world.  Naked…but hopefully, with some other human to hold us, and certainly not alone.

And because God chose to become truly human we can rest assured that God knows very real physical pain.  God knows the pain of the separation of family.  God knows what it means to “go off to be alone”…God did it in the humanness of Jesus time and again.  Jesus wept.  Jesus raged.  Jesus ate.  Jesus loved.  

God didn’t become truly human because God needed to know all of these things.  God became truly human because WE need to know that God knows all these things.

And so as God has done since the very beginning, God took something simple and plain and ordinary and made it extraordinary.

God worked through a young woman, a terrified carpenter, a tired old donkey, some smelly shepherds and their even smellier sheep, an innkeeper, and even the most vulnerable…an impoverished, racially and ethnically, and religiously minority newborn, floppy-necked baby …took those ordinary people (and animals) and made the most extraordinary thing happen.

God poured Godself into our brokenness and brought healing to the whole world through the person of Jesus.

And, that, my friends is the very God news.  On this night, love takes flesh and lives among us.

Amen.

Don't Be Afraid

an installation from "Quilting the Lectionary 2014-2015"

Matthew 14:22-33

Last week we heard the story of Jesus feeding the 5000 with loaves and fish.  It begins with “when Jesus heard this, he left Nazareth by boat and went to a deserted place to be alone.”  (I wasn’t here, I was on vacation, so forgive me if Pastor Steve brought this to your attention, but) I noticed that the lectionary doesn’t say what Jesus had heard that made him leave Nazareth.  Jesus had just been told that his beloved cousin, John the Baptizer, the one who proclaimed his coming into ministry, the one who had baptized him had been beheaded.  And he had been rejected his own community in Nazareth.  “Prophets are not without honor except in their hometowns”.

Jesus was going away to grieve.  

But 5000 families followed him(!), and that was last week’s story.  This week, we continue…after the 5000 families were fed with plenty of leftovers, Jesus put his disciples in a boat and sent them ahead while he climbed a mountain by himself to pray.

And to grieve.

In the middle of the night, as a storm was brewing, Jesus walks across the water toward his friends.  They see him, and, predictably, they are terrified.   These disciples.  Always terrified.  Jesus sees their terror and calls out…the most repeated phrase in the whole Bible…Jesus shouts, “Do not be afraid”

Peter, quicker to believe in ghosts than in the supernatural powers of Jesus, throws out a challenge, “if it's really you, Jesus, tell me to walk to you.”  And Jesus says, “come on!”

But then the wind really picks up, and Peter gets scared again, and he begins to sink.  So he throws out his hand, and he shouts “save me!”

And of course, Jesus does.  He throws out his hand and catches Peter, and they both safely make it into the boat.  

Jesus says, “you have so little faith!  Why did you doubt?”  And of course, Peter doesn’t say anything, or if he did the gospel writer didn’t think it worthy of writing down.

And so generations of priest and pastors have tried to preach this lesson with no answer.

I have heard some mighty fine sermons preached about how we have to “get out of the boat”…step out of our comfort zones, serve our neighbors.  And I’ve heard some excellent sermons about how this story shows that we just have to keep our eyes on Jesus and all will be well.

But this week, I heard a former professor of mine (teachers, we students really do listen to everything you say…that is both a compliment and a directive to say good and holy and helpful things)…I heard a former professor of mine say, “if this is primarily a faith story, where exactly does Peter loose faith?” 

It’s not when he becomes frightened, because many of us do things through our faith even when we are terrified.  Rather, my professor contends, it’s the moment Peter cries out, “save me!”  He begs for help…as though he didn’t already believe that Jesus would do the saving without being asked.

I’ve struggled with that this week, because I think of all the things I assume people will do for me that I ask them to do anyway…especially with my kids “let the dog out,” “replace that toilet paper roll,” “put away your laundry”…and I think about how i’ve always just sort of viewed it as conversation…but maybe they receive it as lack of faith…nagging as lack of faith?  

But is that even the same thing?

I don't know for sure.

But what I do know is that I wish I had witnessed that walking on water event, because I feel like there are so many details left out.  Like, how determined was Peter to walk to Jesus?  Did he hesitate?  Or did he just hop right out of that boat?  As he sank, did he keep trying to walk?  Did he stay still like they tell you to do in quicksand?

I wrote an outline for this sermon before I left for vacation…did the text study…thought it all the way through…figuring I’d write it Friday night on the plane or yesterday morning before our women’s retreat…easy-peasy.  I even sent Pastor Steve a text message about how confident I was about how easy it would be.  We’re talking about the saving work of Jesus, our role in faith or belief, and then our union with Christ.

But then I heard the news from Charlottesville, VA.  And I had to start over.

An alt-right rally was scheduled to be held last night.  It was repugnant, for certain, but it was constitutional.  We do protect a right to free speech in this nation, whether we agree with that speech or not.

But then Friday night, Christians gathered in church to pray ahead of the rally and sang “Wade in the Water”…with verses rewritten to reflect the history of racial injustice and the slow steps toward racial reconciliation, members of the KKK with torches marched through the campus of the University of Virginia, surrounded the church, shouted chants from the Nazi regime in Germany along with other hate-filled chants and slogans and slurs so that Blacks, Jews, and queer folk were and are terrified.  

Yesterday, a white supremacist has driven into the crowds.  So far, one person has died and nineteen others have been hospitalized due to that act of terror.  And two Virginia State Patrol officers have lost their lives in an effort to maintain public safety.  

I have friends who are there.  One in particular a Lutheran pastor.  I have seen photographs of folks with head injuries, respiratory distress due to chemical inhalation, and faces of children trapped in that church Friday night who know this hate is directed at them.

They are terrified.

And less you think this is something that only happens “over there”…as we are all want to do…yesterday in Travis Park, folks rallied in defense of the kinds of statues that continue to glorify this hatred…statues that belong in a museum but not in the public square.

In the last month, I have heard more anti-semitic/anti-Jewish language than I have heard in decades right here in San Antonio.

And I am terrified.

Because people that I love beyond measure are Jewish, are Black, are Queer…and their sanctity, their value, their belovedness is not dependent on their relationship with me.  It is from the One who created them, loves them, calls them “good.”  And what I have learned is that hate breeds hate and that acceptance of hate toward one kind of person invites hate towards all kinds of people.  

And if we live in union with Jesus, we cannot tolerate hate.  Because we recognize that all people are made in the image of God.

So, even though you may be terrified about what folks might say if you call out hatred, even if you are terrified that someone might not like you, or might not frequent your place of business, or might egg your car…or worse…speak up.  Do it anyway.

And for heaven’s sake, this week if you know someone who is being subjugated or terrorized by the hate in the world, in this nation, in this city…call them.  Ask how you can support them.  That will help ease their terror…or a least let them know they have an ally and someone praying for them.

Get out of the boat.  Keep your eyes on Jesus.  And don’t be afraid.

In our union with Jesus, we are called to bear witness to the sanctity of all people.  And we are called to shout out “Don’t be afraid!”  And we are called to do the hard thing even when we ARE afraid because we know that God is with us…in us…in each of us…in all people.

Amen.

Grace and Gift

love and grace and nourishment...all in a fuzzy package

but the giver of this sweet treat is the real gift

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

A few weeks ago, we heard Jesus say, “I will be with you always even to the end of the age.”  This week we hear him say, “come to me and I will give you rest.”  And I’ve been reflecting this week on grace and the longevity of God and on God’s faithfulness…even when we can’t or won’t see it.  How so many times God works in the dark of the tomb to bring forth resurrection.  How God shows up again and again….because God loves us.  And not because we’ve done anything in particular but because God has decided to create us, love us, call us good.  

God has been making this promise to God’s people since Exodus (33:14) when God said to Moses, “My presence will go with you and I will give you rest.”  

Now remember, at this time, the people of Israel were a grumbly bunch.  They had been liberated from Egypt and had been complaining ever since.  They complained about food and water.  They had been given the Law as gift and guidance from God and had worshiped a golden calf instead.  And yet, as the people asked, they received…grace upon grace…manna in the desert, water from a stone, and a second chance at receiving the Law…those rules meant to help us to live into community as a people of God.  

Grace means unearned forgiveness, radical hospitality, and unfettered love.  (Note:  unearned forgiveness does not equal ignoring bad behavior!)

I want to tell you a story that has stuck with me for the last 20 years or so.

I was a staff member at a week long youth retreat (for lack of a better word) in the Southeastern Synod.  On the day that week we were focused on grace in worship, one of the pastors on staff  Steve told a story of when he was a young boy.

Steve said he had a big sister, and as many big sister-little brother relationships were, theirs was riddled with frequent conflict and name-calling, “pest!”  “jerk”…you get the idea.  And they got a kick out of tattling on one another…seeing who could get whom in the most trouble over silly things. 

Well, their family didn’t have a whole lot of money but when his sister entered high school, and he was still in about the 5th grade, she got to have her room redecorated.  This was a very big deal.  Gone was the little girl room of pastel plaid.  A more sophisticated palette moved in.  Complete with a solid white fluffy rug…reminiscent of a teddy bear skin.  It was so soft, Steve said, that he just wanted to touch it and pet it.  Now, remember their relationship… Sister would have none of it.  Steve was banished from the room.  He was never, ever to come inside because he might get it icky or dirty or look at it sideways and ruin the rug.

But one day, his sister was gone to a friend’s house for a sleepover and Mom and Dad had gone to run a few errands and Steve found himself alone in the house with the rug beckoning from his sister’s room.  So, he tiptoed down the hall (as though the faces in the family portraits might give him away) and slipped inside his sister’s room and closed the door.  He sat down and took off his shoes and felt the soft fibers with his little boy feet.  He reclined a little and saw from the corner of his eye…a red-inked fountain pen, another “don’t touch” according to the law of his sister.  So, he lay down, stretched himself out and rolled in that luxurious stark white carpet, and decided that, in for a penny in for a pound, he would take the opportunity to draw himself a nice picture with that red pen.  But when he took the lid off, red ink exploded everywhere.  All over the rug.  Oh-no!  He tried to blot it up, but that didn’t work.  He tried to flush the stain with water, but that just spread it.  Finally he surrendered himself to the terror that was to come as his sister clobbered him and his parents grounded him for life.  He used some rags to soak up the now giant and screaming pink pool of ink water on the carpet.  Threw away the pen.  Walked out of the room.  And closed the door.  And prayed that if God would just take the stain away…well, he didn’t know what he’d do.

He went to his room, and he waited.  Eventually his sister came home.  He heard her enter her room and suck in her breath.  And he waited and waited for the scream that was sure to come.  But it never did.  Eventually, he fell asleep in his anxious waiting, and finally his mother came to fetch him for dinner.  

All through the meal.  No one said a word about the rug or about the pen.  He waited all through cleaning the kitchen after dinner and all through TV time for someone to say something, absolutely certain that a clobbering or shouting or a terrible punishment was coming.  But no one said a word about the rug or about the pen.

As he walked down the hall to brush his teeth before bed, he looked inside his sister’s room…her door was open…and he could see that she had simply rearranged the furniture.  That giant horrible stain was now hidden under her bed.  And she never, ever told their parents what he had done. 

I think we receive God’s grace (or at least are aware of it) most frequently in relationship with other people.  Now, I know you love this…but think of a time (it doesn’t have to be the most traumatic or life-changing time) when you experienced the grace of God through another human being.  Turn to your neighbor and share that experience. 

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Now there are two allegorical ways to look at the story I told you about my friend Steve neither is more right than the other.

One is that his sister is God, and Steve is us, and if you look at it that way you can see that God chooses not to punish us or to hand us over to be punished…even though we do the things we are told by the Law not to do.  Grace handed out undeservedly by God.

The second one is a little more parallel to the gospel lesson for today.  Jesus says, take my yoke upon you for my yoke is easy…. What if Steve and his sister are yoked to one another?  What if his burden is halved because his sister shares it?  

What if sometimes grace is handed out by God in the form of someone with whom you can share life’s burdens and labors…with someone or a whole body of someones who adore you and who will risk themselves and their comfort to be with you in the thick of it?

Look back at the person with whom you shared your story a moment ago.  That person who is holding your sacred story is an undeserved, unearned gift of grace from God.  That person is holding your story and offering you welcome, hospitality.  That person is just one of many in your life who will do that for you and who will do that with you for others.

We are given grace upon grace by one who calls us to take God’s yoke and to bear one another’s burdens.  It is in sharing our lives that we really seek God.  It is in serving one another together (even when we feel like the ancient Israelites…grumbly from all that desert wandering) that our burdens become light.

Hear the Good News, people of God:  you are freed, you are forgiven, you are loved beyond measure.  Here in this place of grace you are welcome exactly as you are.  Seek God in your neighbor.  Serve God in the faces of others.  And Jesus promises that your burden will be light.

Amen.

Conflict and Baptismal Call

Matthew 10:24-39 & Romans 6:1b-11

They tell us preachers to tell the truth, to be true to the text, and to preach good news, but it surely doesn’t look like there is any good news in the gospel lesson today and the text is a little alarming, “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 wrestled with it all week long.  Read commentaries.  Wrote obsessively in my journal.  Talked it over with friends from different faith backgrounds....an American Baptist, a few Roman Catholics, a Reformed Jew.  Talked it over with other Lutheran pastors.  Complained to a few people, too.  And many of the people I complained to this week suggested (in one case implored) that I preach primarily on the Romans text. 

And really, Paul with his, “we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” is certainly easier to hear and to preach on than Jesus with his, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

To tell you the truth, I am a little afraid to preach on this text, because even though I understand what Jesus is calling us to do, even though I would and have and will put my life on the line to save and to serve others, it is terrifying to preach the call of Jesus to people whom I love…because what Jesus says is hard and what Jesus asks of us is uncomfortable and sometimes scary, and historically, when I have said these things in the light, folks whom I love have gotten mighty angry with me.

And that’s exactly what Jesus promises in this text.  He is talking about the kinds of conflict that will arise when we are fully committed to God’s way of mutuality.  We’ll find ourselves at odds with the public sphere, with the institution of the church, with our friends, with our families, with our loved ones.  But when we are committed to God’s way of mutuality, we are fully committed to the understanding of God’s love, grace, and shalom in everyday life, in every aspect of human relationship: public, private, economic, political, personal and communal, body, mind and environment.

If we are committed to this way of life to this kind of life for ALL people, then it’s going to require a little uncomfortableness on our part.  It will require some stretching and some bending and some giving up and moving over and maybe some shouting in the public square…and that’s especially hard to do when we are aware that we are suffering, too.  (Or you know, if we’re introverts…that whole spontaneous public speaking thing can be challenging.)

But here’s the thing:  I think we all too often avoid the tough conversations and shy away from what Jesus is really saying in order to stay comfortable.  And too often, our comfort comes at high cost to someone else.

I think that within the confines of Christianity in the United States, we have attempted to domesticate Jesus.  If we keep Jesus in the box of healer, comforter, friend, divine guy who came to take away our sin and make us feel good…well that Jesus, the calm one in the landscape painting with sheep at his side and rosy cheeked, blue-eyed children in his lap, that Jesus is so much easier to live with than the guy who comes bearing a sword. Keeping Jesus tame helps keep us comfortable.

And it’s not that those things aren’t true or that that image of Jesus is bad or wrong.  It’s just that it’s incomplete.

If we examine Jesus through the gospels and through the lens of history, what we know to be true is that, in addition to those things, Jesus was a religious public leader, a nonviolent revolutionary who sought to fundamentally reorient the way people lived with each other and themselves. Jesus called systems and rulers into account.  He put his life and his reputation on the line for the sake of those whom the world called “bad.”  He got angry and threw things. 

If God took on flesh and walked among us today, in this nation, I wonder what she would think and say and do.  Would she calmly look around and tell us that she understands that globally we’re doing the best that we can?  Or would she flip over tables and shout because week after week our best intentions still leave children hungry, refugees displaced, and millions without access to healthcare.

Now, I don’t pretend to be an expert on state, national, or international policy.  I don’t know exactly what the answers are to the myriad troubles and evils that plague this nation and this world.  But I do know that if one child is hungry, Jesus weeps.  And I do know that if one person dies because there is no place which will offer him welcome, Jesus weeps.

And I also know that it is my job as a non-violent, public Christian leader to shine the light on the things that we are called by Christ to attend to.  Even if I'm afraid someone will be angry with me for doing it.  And that shows up in the gospel lesson today, Jesus 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”

 And it is our jobs as followers of Jesus, as Christians, to do the thing that is before us.  In recovery communities, we often say, “do the next right thing.”  Sometimes that next right thing is scary.  Sometimes we wonder if sharing means we are going to go without.  Sometimes amplifying the voices of those who are wounded by this culture of domination or lending our voices to the voiceless puts us in a position to be wounded, too.

Because the truth is, when you speak out for the weak, voiceless, oppressed, marginalized, and vulnerable, you are aligning yourself with them and making yourself vulnerable.  People will use that vulnerability to say you’re wrong or too-sensitive or bad.  It’s gonna sting.  It’s going to hurt.  Do it anyway.

Because it is our baptismal calling.  Remember hearing Romans?  “we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life”

Newness of life…a new way of living.  A reformed and reforming world where all people are loved, valued, cared for beloved…God’s way of mutuality.

As I pondered all of this this week, I felt overwhelmed.  And I don’t know about you, but when I get overwhelmed, I can shut down.  Become ineffective.  But then today my friend Kevin Strickland reminded me of Archbishop Desmond Tutu who said, “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

People of God, hear the Good News:  you are freed, forgiven, and beloved.

Now, in response to your baptism, do the thing in front of you.  Do the next right thing.  Do your little bit of good.  For the sake of the Gospel.  For the sake of the world.

Amen.

keep singing

keep singing

               light into darkness

               hope into hearts

               love into the world

keep singing even if you have to borrow

               somebody's words

               somebody's tune

               somebody's breath

keep singing

               until my heart becomes yours

               until your heart becomes mine

               until the world knows we all are one

               one heart

               one hope

               one humanity

               beloved

keep singing

(originally published on 6.13.16 in response to the shootings at Pulse in Orlando)

God in Relationship

   

the book read for the children's message at APLC on Holy Trinity Sunday

Holy Trinity Sunday

Matthew 28:16-20

2 Corinthians 13:11-13

Genesis 1:1-2:4a

a sermon for the people

of Abiding Presence Lutheran Church

“Three in One and One for all!”  This is what my imagination comes up with as I think about explaining the Trinity, and of course, it does’t completely capture God in three persons.  In the course of my life in the church, I have seen (and used myself in my youth ministry days) a variety of imperfect, incomplete, or downright laughable “illustrations”…none of them quite hit the mark.  Let’s see, there is shell + white + yolk = egg, or peel + flesh + core = apple, or that perennial favorite, steam + liquid + ice = water.  The water analogy is another version of the “I am always only ever me.  Yet, at the same time, I am ‘mom’ to my children, ‘daughter’ to my parents, ‘sister’ to my siblings. One person, three ways of being known." But that kind of thinking is called modalism.  And it is heresy!

How are we to think of the Trinity then?  Excellent question.  And the truth is I have no idea.  Like much about God, the Trinity is a mystery…one beyond our human imagination.  Unencompassed by even the very, very clever (and completely original, I’m sure) “Three in One and One for all!”

In our lessons for today: Genesis tells of God the Spirit moving on the waters and God the Creator creating the world by speaking it into being; and since the Gospel according to St John says that God the Son is the Word of God and that “in the beginning was the WORD”, we who are self-professed Jesus-as-Son followers can find traces of the Trinity in the first creation account.

The New Testament and the Gospel readings are a little more explicit; Matthew refers to baptizing in the name of the “Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” and 2 Corinthians refers to the grace of Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit.  There’s no “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” language here.  Rather there is a focus more on community, love, and grace than on the names or titles of the three in one.

Nowhere in scripture do we find the word “trinity” or an explanation of how God is both three and one at the same time.

So maybe rather than thinking about the “how” of the Trinity and risking a burning at the stake as heretics (just kidding.  I’m pretty sure we don’t do that anymore), but just maybe we should be thinking about and praying about the impact that the Trinity has on our lives, on our reality.

The Trinity shows us God in relationship…in God’s way of mutuality.

And that relationship is ever changing, ever growing, ever expanding to invite absolutely everyone to relationship with God and with one another.  Where each is valuable, “good”, precious, beloved by God.  Where each seeks to value, love, and call one another “good”.

I believe that we are called to God’s way of mutuality.

“Jesus' believed that God's way for human beings to live, to live with each other and the planet that is in our care was emerging and in-breaking. He taught that while the kingdom of domination was all around us and in us, that God was moving to change that. Jesus invited disciples to join him in announcing and living within God's Reign of Mutuality.

Everyone was invited: Jews, Greeks, Romans, gentiles, Samaritans, the poor, the rich, the blind, lost, the confused, those who were too certain of themselves, women, men, children and so on.

Everyone is still invited. Everyone.

In God's Reign of Mutuality we are invited to practice Baptismal Awareness: to integrate into our conscious lives the paradoxes and contradictions of human life. This means that human beings can learn to reduce the teeter-totter of dominance and submission and learn to hold one another as equals and to remember that we are beloved of God. Paul speaks to this in his beautiful imagery of the church as the body of Christ.

In domination culture the ideal human is a powerful one. In mutuality culture, the ideal human is one who embraces life-as-it-is and who seeks to hold others as equals with differing gifts. Mutuality culture can be understood as an open circle with the cross in the middle. The cross represents God's willingness to join us in the midst of our humanity and to suffer with us rather than to dominate us. Jesus whole life reminds us of God's self-giving love.”^[1]

God exists in community, and God invites us into that community, too, into a family of equals who share a common mission and a common life but who exist in that community as individual members of creation uniquely beautiful but who are more brilliant together than they could ever be on their own.

If we think about God this way:  God in relationship, then it makes our reality more understandable…we are made in the image of God and God needs community…of course we need community, too!  A community centered around our God…who created us, loves us, and calls us into life with God…living in God’s way of mutuality in which no one person or group of persons is more valuable or beloved than another…but in which we are called to love and to serve and to invite the whole world.

as my Goddaddy says,

“Our calling today, on this Holy Trinity Sunday, is neither figuring out the Trinity nor explaining it.

Our calling is living the Trinity in our lives and in the holy and loving community we call the church. (and inviting others into God’s Reign of Mutuality)

Our calling is to join with one another in caring for creation.

Our calling is to take up our cross and follow the Christ in the work of spreading God’s love in the world.

Our calling is to pray together and to be open to the leading of God’s Spirit on our lives, come what may.”^[2]

Amen.

---

^[1] catacombchurches.org

^[2] lectionarylab.com

skyward bound

fireflies rising from their sleep

under the weeping willow

each drop of sorrow

was buried

and resurrected

to joy and light and life

on this summer evening

skyward bound

              +agm