Thursday, January 8

Today’s Readings: Psalm 5; Isaiah 59:15b-21; John 4:46-54; Revelation 2:8-17; Psalm 113

One of the interesting elements of the Epiphany story from last Sunday was how God reached out and revealed Godself to those outside the formal religious structures of the day. God chose to reach out to the wise men, for instance, instead of to the priests or Pharisees. That same trend of God reaching out to the outsider is picked up once again in today’s Gospel reading in John when we hear the story of the healing of the official’s son. In that story, we are introduced to a person whose faith effects a remarkable healing. That individual, ironically, did not come from the safe confines of the established religious establishment of his day. He was located outside of those confines. That pattern this week got me to thinking about all the ways our location within established religious traditions might at times hold us back at times in our spiritual lives. If God had revealed Godself to faithful members of a church council instead of to the wise men, for instance, would the members of the council said, “Gee, we would love to follow you but we have responsibilities to fulfill around here so why don’t you go on ahead without us”? Or if Jesus had made himself available to effect a healing for a faithful church-goer, would that faithful church-goer have asked Jesus what letters he had behind his name (i.e. M. Div. or Ph.D) before he would have presented his loved one for healing? Today, I would encourage you to open your head and heart as you consider the ways our commitments might be obstacles that prevent us from experiencing the fullness of God’s presence and power in our lives. Perhaps we can find ways of living into that sense of openness that the wise men and the court official had so that we might have deeper experiences of the Divine. Til next time…

Wednesday, January 7

Today’s Readings: Psalm 45; Isaiah 52:3-6; John 2:1-11; Revelation 2:1-7; Psalm 44

When it comes to the portrayal of relationships in our society, we often put our emphasis on the wrong end of the relationship. Many movies and television shows, for instance, portray relationships in such a way that it seems as if the most powerful stage of the relationship is at the beginning. They focus on the magic of the first kiss, the first days where it feels virtually impossible to be out of one another’s presence, and one’s inability to think of anything other than your significant other. While those initial feelings are indeed powerful, individuals in a long term relationship know that they are hardly the best feelings. Many of the best feelings come years later in ways that can only happen when a relationship has grown and matured. The time when you’re coming down with a cold and your spouse/partner instinctively comes home with your favorite remedy. The first moments after a big fight when both parties realize their love for each other has to come before either of the egos involved and you make up. The time spent in each other’s presence – in complete silence! Each of those experiences convicts me of the fact that things in a healthy relationship don’t get worse over time – they get better! Of course, that principle doesn’t just hold in our relationships with other human beings; it holds in our relationship with God. I was reminded of this principle through today’s Gospel reading of John. Shortly after Jesus’ performs the miracle of turning water to wine at the wedding in Cana, the host was said to have remarked: “Everybody I know begins with their finest wines and after the guests have had their fill brings in the cheap stuff. But you’ve saved the best till now” (John 2:10 from The Message). Perhaps you feel as if you’ve gotten in a bit of a rut in your spiritual life - perhaps you’ve wondered if the power of those first days in your relationship with God has dulled. If that’s the case, hold on to today’s story from John and give thanks that we are in the sort of relationship with God that has the ability to get better over time: if only we let it. Til next time…

Tuesday, January 6

Today’s Readings: Psalm 72; Isaiah 60:1-7; Matthew 2:1-12; Ephesians 3:1-12; Psalm 68

One of the people I’ve worked with over the years was a gentleman in his mid-60’s. The gentleman adored children throughout his entire life; in fact, he was the father of three children himself. Several years before I met the gentleman, his wife had unexpectedly asked him for a divorce. In the decade that followed his divorce, two of his children refused any contact with him. This nearly killed the gentleman. He was convinced that he would never again see his children, and despair naturally overtook him. Then – after a decade had passed – one of his estranged children suddenly reached out to him. His other child followed suit shortly thereafter. The two reunions the gentleman never dreamed would happen in his lifetime – happened! I thought of that situation today as I read the words of hope and reunion from the book of Isaiah. A portion of those words read: “Your sons coming from great distances, your daughters carried by their nannies. When you see them coming you’ll smile-big smiles! Your heart will swell and, yes, burst!” (Isaiah 60:4 from The Message). As I read those words, I couldn’t help but think how quick we are to write off the troubled relationships in our lives. Our pride and our sense of ego often become barriers that make reconciliation seem impossible. Thankfully, words like those from the book of Isaiah remind us that the healing presence of God can do the work of reconciliation that we would otherwise think impossible. Perhaps there is a relationship in your life that you’ve given up on – a relationship that you think is beyond redemption. If that’s the case, take some time today and invite God’s healing presence into that relationship. You make not experience an immediate reconciliation with the other person, but chances are you’ll begin to experience an initial sense of healing within yourself as you begin to let go of despair and open yourself to hope. Til next time…

Monday, January 5

Today’s Readings: Psalm 133; Joshua 1:1-9; John 15:1-17; Hebrews 11:32-12:2; Psalm 82

One of the most challenging pastoral care situations I deal with is helping individuals cope with the death of a loved one. This is particularly challenging when the deceased love one is a close family member (i.e. parent, child, spouse, etc). One of the most natural ways people initially deal with such a loss is to completely shut down for a period of time. Part of the reason we shut down is because we become overwhelmed by the tremendous pain we feel at the time of the loss. Another reason we tend to shut down is that a part of us feels as is we are dishonoring our deceased loved one if we were to continue with our life. Today’s reading from Joshua reminds us, however, that moving on with one’s life after a loss is an essential aspect of our life. (I would note here that when I saw “move on with our life”, I don’t mean minimize the loss or sweep it under the rug; instead, I mean find ways of connecting with life in such a way that you can hold on to a sense of purpose and meaning for yourself.) Moses and Joshua must have been extremely close given what they had experienced together during their time leading the people through the desert. Sadly, Moses was not able to see that journey through to its completion. It would have been so easy for Joshua to completely lose himself in his pain and shut down. He didn’t, however. Joshua knew that God was calling him to important work – work that would help culminate the Israelites efforts for the past 40 years. So Joshua did the unthinkable. He drew upon the incomprehensible strength and courage of his faith and helped the people arrive in the Promised Land despite his personal pain and feelings of dislocation. Many of us find ourselves in a similar place as Joshua. In the midst of our loss, we have those in our lives who depend on us and need us to go on. The next time you find yourself in such a place, where you start to feel guilty about moving on – remember Joshua’s story. It might help you deal with your own grief process. Til next time…

Sunday, January 4

Today’s Readings: Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14; Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12; Ephesians 3:1-12

Some of my parishioners have been asking me to post my sermons (I actually call them my reflections) on line. In order to meet their request, I'll now make a habit of posting my reflections under my Sunday postings. Here is the reflection I gave on January 4, 2008.

Surveys have shown that by last Wednesday, roughly 50% of all Americans established New Year’s Resolutions for themselves.[1] I was not one of them.

“And why is that?” you might wonder. “Do we have a pastor that’s a little short on resolve? A little undisciplined?”

Perhaps. But those aren’t the reasons I resist making a resolution each year. You want to know the real reason I don’t make any resolutions for myself? It goes back to something that happened right here in Denver 13 years ago. Let me tell you what happened, and why it turned me off to the notion of resolutions.

Thirteen years ago, The United Methodist Church held their global meeting – their General Conference –here in Denver. And at the time of that meeting, there was one social issue that had caught the nation’s attention. The issue? Same-gender marriage. Congress was on the verge of passing President Clinton’s Defense of Marriage Act, and many faith communities – including the United Methodist Church – thought they had to do something to show their support of the principles behind that Act.

Feelings were split almost down the middle at General Conference that year. Half of the delegates felt that any proposal brought forward would be a mean spirited, “jump-on-them-while-their-down” sort of display directed against the LGBT community; the other half of the felt such action was their moral duty. It seemed for days as if the delegates were at an impasse.

But then someone proposed what they thought was a brilliant strategy that could appease both sides of that contentious debate. Let me give you a little background so you can understand that strategy.

You see the United Methodist Church has two books that inform its life. The first is called The Book of Discipline, and it sets out the rules that every local church must follow. The second is The Book of Resolutions. It merely puts forth suggestions for local churches to follow.

Why don’t we put the prohibition on same-gender marriage in The Book of Resolutions? it was proposed. That’ll please those who feel compelled to take some action against same-gender marriage. And by putting it in the Book of Resolutions (instead of the Book of Discipline), we’ll also please those who oppose such action since resolutions have no real power.

As I followed the debate and watched it turn on that technicality, I thought to myself – “How sad that - even in our churches - the word ‘resolution’ no longer means anything!” Ever since then, I’ve made a point of striking the word resolution from my vocabulary.

Of course the word resolution isn’t the only word that’s come to be watered down over the years. There’s another word that has also come to be watered down a great deal – even in our churches.

That word?

Epiphany.

The word epiphany was first used by the church to mean “the appearance or manifestation of God”. It was used to commemorate the scholars visit to the baby Jesus following his birth. The event was so important to the life of the early church that its observance actually predated the celebration of Christmas!

But then something started to happen over time. The word moved beyond the realm of Christianity into the secular realm. And over time – its meaning began to change until finally the word now means: “a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something”.[2]

So what effect did this shift in meaning – a shift from where epiphany meant a manifestation of God to simply a sudden perception - have on our spiritual lives?

A profound one!

You see when you look at the word epiphany in its original context, the word had much more punch to it. For when put into the context of the Christmas story as a whole, you realize the word epiphany wasn’t just a sudden, one time event such as the moment when the scholars first saw the star. No, the word epiphany also included the radical life-change that followed the experience of seeing that star.

In its secular context, however, that link between perception and life-change is no longer made. By emphasizing just the suddenness of a thought, we begin to buy into the notion that simply seeing the star is enough.

That’s why over the years I’ve come to believe the single most powerful Communion service of the year is the Communion service we hold on Epiphany Sunday. I believe that because the act of Communion helps us reject the notion that simply seeing the star – simply paying lip-service to the manifestation of God - is enough. Communion reminds us that the experience of seeing that star must elicit from us the same thing that it elicited from the scholars: a response. Communion also reminds us that while God will make Godself known to us wherever we are – God will never leave us in that same place. God will call us to new places.

And so friends, in this season of Epiphany that stretches between now and Ash Wednesday on February 25, if we must make a New Year’s Resolution – let us resolve this: that we will never settle for merely a glimpse of God’s glory. Instead, let us resolve to do what the scholar did: pursue that glory - wherever it may lead!

Amen
[1] http://media.www.bgnews.com/media/storage/paper883/news/2006/01/06/OnlineUpdates/Statistics.Few.Americans.Keep.New.Years.Resolutions-1321869.shtml
[2] http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/epiphany

Saturday, January 3

Today’s Readings: Psalm 25; Genesis 28:10-22; John 10:7-17; Hebrews 11:13-22; Psalm 23

I went through a stage in my spiritual development where I assumed that God and God’s ways looked pretty much the way I thought they should look. When I heard that God was associated with a word like justice – I just knew that meant eradicating all of the “isms” that ate away at the soul of our society. When I heard that God was associated with a word like mercy – I knew that meant a willingness to cut us human beings some slack. When I heard that God was associated with a word like love – I knew that meant there existed a passionate connection between Creator and Creation. I spent years assembling a picture of God by pulling all of these attributes together. Without realizing it, however, I came to assume that the essence of God was defined by only two things: warmness and fuzziness. And God wasn’t just warm and fuzzy in a general way; God was warm and fuzzy in the ways that fit my understanding of those words. But then I encountered something years ago that challenged my warm, fuzzy notion of God. I saw a television show that detailed the lives of carnivorous animals. It showed lots of examples of the hunt and kills in which the animals engaged. The life-cycle that I saw portrayed was anything but warm and fuzzy by my standards – and yet it was one that was necessary to maintain life. In other words, those uncomfortable scenes of nature reminded me of the wisdom of the psalmist’s words as contained in this morning’s first psalm. The psalmist wrote: “Show me how you work, God; school me in your ways” (Psalm 25:4 from The Message). While I would personally like to believe that the fullness of God can be contained simply within my own preferences and comfortable levels (that would be within what I call “my warm, fuzzy zone”), once again I am reminded that God is much bigger than that. God spills over into aspects of life that I might otherwise not like to see or acknowledge. It is at such moments of awareness that I can begin to let go of my own attempts to define God on my terms, and open myself to being schooled in the vastness of God’s ways. So where do you come down in all of this? Do you worship a God that is safe and comfortable within the confines of your “warm and fuzzy zone”, or do you open yourself to being schooled in the vastness of God and God’s ways as well? Til next time…

Friday, January 2

Today’s Readings: Psalm 105:1-45; Genesis 12:1-7; John 6:35-42, 48-51; Hebrew 11:1-12

Last October – as the grim news about economy started to spread like wildfire - there was an article in USA Today that caught my eye. The article explored how people of faith were more optimistic about things than most others in our society about the economic future. When I discussed the article with a friend who doesn’t attend church, his first response was straightforward: “Most people of faith are conservative and tend to support the current president and his decisions come hell or high water. That’s why ‘people of faith’ are more optimistic than the rest of us.” His take on it was in line with what many Americans think. But had he read the entire article, he would have seen that the reasons for their optimism were much broader than he thought. The optimism was there whether or not individuals were conservative or liberal – whether they were supporters of President Bush’s policies or opponents of President Bush’s policies. In other words, the article suggested that the reason for their optimism wasn’t political – it had to do with something else: their faith. In this cynical age, it’s common for folks to forget the transformative power one’s faith can have in terms of how one sees and experiences the world. One person who didn’t forget the power of faith, however, was the author of today’s passage from Hebrews. In that passage, the author wrote: “The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It’s our handle of what we can’t see” (Hebrews 11:1 from The Message). The author then goes on to provide a list of those ranging from Abel to Sarah who accomplished great things by stepping out on faith. Today, I have a challenge for you that you can spend the rest of the year pursuing. Spend some time prayerfully discerning a place in your life that God is calling you to step out in faith. It might be doing something like returning to school, ending an abusive relationship, accepting a new position that is better in line with your gifts and graces – you name it. My goal for you and I is to have our names included in that list of people who have stepped out on faith and done remarkable things – in 2009 and beyond! Til next time…

Thursday, January 1

Today’s Readings: Psalm 21; Ecclesiastes 3:1-13; Matthew 9:14-17; Colossians 2:1-7; Psalm 92

I’m someone who generally enjoys learning in a classroom environment. I love the opportunity to explore possibilities and try things on for size. In the 25 years I spent in the classroom (13 as a student in the K-12 system, 4 as an undergraduate, 3 as a graduate student, and 5 as a teacher), there was really only one activity I came to despise. It was an activity that we did at the end of my formal studies in seminary; that activity was called a verbatim. Let me tell you what a verbatim is. In our pastoral care classes we would have to select an incident that had happened to us in a church setting; we would then write out the flow of the encounter as if it were a script of the incident. Other students in the class would then read through the verbatim and tear it apart – analyzing what you could/should have said/done better in the encounter. While I understood the purpose of the activity, I hated the way verbatims often got played out. People in the classroom who knew nothing of the individuals involved got to sit back in judgment and conclude what should have happened. The individuals who sat in judgment usually had no clue about the larger context of the encounter. Everything seemed so easy when you removed the context for the situation and treated the pastoral encounter as if it were a mathematical equation (i.e. if Person A says this, then Person B should say that). If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life in parish ministry, it’s that each and every pastoral care encounter is different – even if two people are dealing with the same issue. So what got me on my anti-verbatim soapbox? Today’s reading from Colossians. The author of today’s passage wrote: “You know your way around the faith. Now do what you’ve been taught. School’s out; quit studying the subject and start living it!” (Colossians 2:7 from The Message). That verse reminded me that while it’s easy to sit around in a classroom setting and talk about how one’s faith ought to get lived out, it’s absolutely essential to move out of the theoretical mode and into the practical mode where you finally get the opportunity to put your beliefs into action - for it’s ultimately through the realm of action where most folks really encounter the Gospel in life-changing ways. As you start your New Year today, I would encourage you to look for more ways to put your beliefs into action this year. You just might be surprised at what happens in 2009 if you do that. Til next year…