People of faith across America will leave a light or candle burning overnight Sunday-Monday as a part of "Lights for Human Dignity," a protest sponsored by The Interfaith Alliance against atrocities in Iraq.
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Suicidal pigs
At lunch today, we talked and prayed about the story of Jesus healing two demoniacs in a cemetery near the sea from Matthew 8:28-34:
This story appears in a part of Matthew’s gospel that takes great pains to demonstrate the power that Jesus has over evil—he is no “ordinary” magician, but someone to whom the wind, the sea, demons and illnesses must submit. All he has to say to the demons is, “Go!”—and they immediately obey.
Some scholars think the series of healings Matthew writes about in chapters 8 and 9 speak of the need for disciples to submit—or surrender their own will—to the power of Jesus, just as the powers of evil submit.
Where in your life is God calling you to surrender to a good and gracious power greater than you? Where are you bracing yourself, creating resistance, where you might receive healing if you stopped protecting your ego and instead surrendered to the power of God? What “pigs” do you stand to lose if you obey, and what do you stand to gain? Could you recognize the power of God if it freed you from your demons—or would you be so afraid that, like the people of the town, you’d ask Jesus to leave your neighborhood?
Things to think about as you prepare to celebrate the feast of Pentecost, the day that commemorates God sending the Holy Spirit to the early church.
God’s Spirit is with us still, and worship is one place you can encounter it. This Sunday, the day of Pentecost, we’ll have a dramatic interpretation of John 14:8-17, 25-27, the text from which I’ll preach.
We’ll also pray a special version of the Lord’s Prayer from New Zealand, illustrated with art and photos. Our other scripture lessons will include the story of the tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9) and the story of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-21).
We’ll chant an invitation to the Holy Spirit, sing a hymn of the congregation’s choice, and sing the hymns “Spirit” and “Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove.”
God’s shalom to you this week—and I hope to see you Sunday!
When he came to the other side [of the lake], . . . two demoniacs coming out of the tombs met him. They were so fierce that no one could pass that way. Suddenly they shouted, "What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?" Now a large herd of swine was feeding at some distance from them. The demons begged him, "If you cast us out, send us into the herd of swine." And he said to them, "Go!" So they came out and entered the swine; and suddenly, the whole herd rushed down the steep bank into the sea and perished in the water. The swineherds ran off, and on going into the town, they told the whole story about what had happened to the demoniacs. Then the whole town came out to meet Jesus; and when they saw him, they begged him to leave their neighborhood.It’s a mysterious story. Why would the demons ask to be sent into a herd of pigs? Why would the people of the town ask Jesus to leave? (One good reason: The pigs that drowned themselves [and the demons!] represent a source of income and wealth.) Why doesn’t Matthew tell us what happened to the two people healed of demon possession?
This story appears in a part of Matthew’s gospel that takes great pains to demonstrate the power that Jesus has over evil—he is no “ordinary” magician, but someone to whom the wind, the sea, demons and illnesses must submit. All he has to say to the demons is, “Go!”—and they immediately obey.
Some scholars think the series of healings Matthew writes about in chapters 8 and 9 speak of the need for disciples to submit—or surrender their own will—to the power of Jesus, just as the powers of evil submit.
Where in your life is God calling you to surrender to a good and gracious power greater than you? Where are you bracing yourself, creating resistance, where you might receive healing if you stopped protecting your ego and instead surrendered to the power of God? What “pigs” do you stand to lose if you obey, and what do you stand to gain? Could you recognize the power of God if it freed you from your demons—or would you be so afraid that, like the people of the town, you’d ask Jesus to leave your neighborhood?
Things to think about as you prepare to celebrate the feast of Pentecost, the day that commemorates God sending the Holy Spirit to the early church.
God’s Spirit is with us still, and worship is one place you can encounter it. This Sunday, the day of Pentecost, we’ll have a dramatic interpretation of John 14:8-17, 25-27, the text from which I’ll preach.
We’ll also pray a special version of the Lord’s Prayer from New Zealand, illustrated with art and photos. Our other scripture lessons will include the story of the tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9) and the story of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-21).
We’ll chant an invitation to the Holy Spirit, sing a hymn of the congregation’s choice, and sing the hymns “Spirit” and “Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove.”
God’s shalom to you this week—and I hope to see you Sunday!
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Pedaling for pleasure
My son Ben has a new tricycle, and the first thing he says every day is: “I want to ride my bike!” (It reminds me of that old Queen song “Bicycle” . . . but I digress.)
Every night Ben pedals down the sidewalk toward the park, grinning, while I try to keep up. It’s a pleasure to see him enjoy the strength of his body as it delivers the experience of self-propelled speed.
Remember how powerful it felt to whiz along on your bicycle in the cool of the evening air?
Without fail, as I follow Ben around the park, my attention shifts somehow from the pleasure of watching him to my own pleasure in the moment: the tickle of the breeze in my hair, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the colors of the sky.
Even in the chaos and darkness of today’s world, God has given us much to enjoy, and some of the simplest pleasures can be discovered by focusing on what we experience through our bodies. The world around us, and the ways we experience it, can be a rich source of reflection on the goodness and providence of God.
I hope you’ll join us Sunday for worship, when we’ll focus on a verse from the book of Revelation that calls Jesus “the bright morning star.” Our sermon on that theme will draw on Revelation 22:12-14, 16-27, 20-21; our other lessons will include Acts 16:16-34 (in which the gospel gets some folks in trouble) and John 17:20-26 (in which Jesus prays for unifying love between his disciples).
We’ll sing “If Thou but Trust in God to Guide Thee,” “Take My Life,” and another hymn that will be chosen that morning by the congregation.
Every night Ben pedals down the sidewalk toward the park, grinning, while I try to keep up. It’s a pleasure to see him enjoy the strength of his body as it delivers the experience of self-propelled speed.
Remember how powerful it felt to whiz along on your bicycle in the cool of the evening air?
Without fail, as I follow Ben around the park, my attention shifts somehow from the pleasure of watching him to my own pleasure in the moment: the tickle of the breeze in my hair, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the colors of the sky.
Even in the chaos and darkness of today’s world, God has given us much to enjoy, and some of the simplest pleasures can be discovered by focusing on what we experience through our bodies. The world around us, and the ways we experience it, can be a rich source of reflection on the goodness and providence of God.
I hope you’ll join us Sunday for worship, when we’ll focus on a verse from the book of Revelation that calls Jesus “the bright morning star.” Our sermon on that theme will draw on Revelation 22:12-14, 16-27, 20-21; our other lessons will include Acts 16:16-34 (in which the gospel gets some folks in trouble) and John 17:20-26 (in which Jesus prays for unifying love between his disciples).
We’ll sing “If Thou but Trust in God to Guide Thee,” “Take My Life,” and another hymn that will be chosen that morning by the congregation.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Changing darkness into light
A sermon on Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5:
The brightness of the afternoon sun, the warmth of May, the smell of spring rain: None of the things I treasured about last week betrayed the fact that our world is shrouded in darkness. But it is.
The horrific execution of American businessman Nicholas Berg in Iraq, unveiled to the world on videotape Tuesday, was juxtaposed a day later with the release to Congress of even more photographs of the American military abusing Iraqi prisoners in violation of the Geneva Accords.
Do we need any other proof that something evil has this world in its clutches? Because there’s plenty:
AIDS is ravaging Africa and Asia and the inner cities of America; rates of adolescent suicide and adolescent pregnancy continue to rise; the fastest-growing jobs are low-paying, service-industry positions with little opportunity for advancement; children are sexually abused by parents and other people they trust; human greed continues to condemn the majority of the world’s citizens to poverty and hunger.
Do you think our new high-school graduates—the thoughtful ones, at least—are wondering: “Where am I headed, and where is the world headed? What is the purpose of my life in a world like this?”
But Christians have always lived in a world like this—and always asked those nagging questions.
II.
When the prophet John wrote his letter to the seven churches of Asia—the letter we know as the book of Revelation—Christians not only faced brutal persecution that would only get worse. They also lived in a tumultuous region, a part of the Turkish coast ravaged by war and natural disaster.
John wrote in the late 90’s of the first century, a time when the reign of three emperors in two years gave rise to never-ending political turmoil. The Roman Empire was struggling to hold onto its power, fighting war after war. Widespread famine devastated the villages, and the earth itself seemed unstable; earthquakes rocked the area and in 79 Vesuvius erupted, burying Pompeii and its neighbors and creating a massive cloud of ash and darkness across the region, which added to the widespread anxiety. There was tremendous social and economic discrimination.
On top of it all, the church was in crisis. Its apostolic leaders—those who actually knew Jesus—were dying, and the church lacked a firm structure or sense of self-identity to lead it into the future. Christian converts were mostly poor, lower-class people with little hope for power in the political and social structure of the Roman Empire.
And they were asking: Where are we headed? Where is the world headed? What is our purpose in a world like this?
John’s letter to the churches, his revelation, is an answer to those questions: Our destiny and our purpose, John concludes, is the New Jerusalem, a heavenly city where we will live in the direct presence of God, face-to-face with the Holy One that no human being but Christ has ever seen, engulfed in endless light.
III.
“I saw no temple in the city,” John writes, “for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. . . . The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and God’s servants will worship God; they will see God’s face, and God’s name will be on their forehead.”
This is a vision of a place where there is no separation between the holy and the profane, where God is ever-present to us, where all of reality is a temple and the divine presence is directly, intimately available. In this city, God is present in the midst of the everyday, not limited to some designated holy place or some special holy time. In the New Jerusalem, all of the people of God will be priests, and God will claim us as God’s own, inscribing on our foreheads the Holy Name that no one has ever known before.
“And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it,” John writes, “for the glory of the Lord is its light, and its lamp is the lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Its gates will never be shut. . . . People will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations.”
This is a vision of a city where everyone is welcome, all the time. All of the nations will be there—even those who had given their earthly allegiance to the emperor, to false gods, to economic prosperity for a few rather than justice for all; all of the nations will be there—even those who persecuted the Christians.
“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal,” John writes, “. . . On either side of the river is the tree of life . . . ; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. Nothing accursed will be found there anymore.”
The nations—wracked by war and disease, plagued by discrimination and poverty, turning toward false gods for comfort—the nations will be healed of all that troubles them when they enter this city that is also a garden, where the tree of life and the river of life both dwell. And nothing accursed will be found there anymore.
Notice that John doesn’t say the inhabitants of the city will never have been unclean or practiced abomination or falsehood, or have been cursed, but that in the fullness of time, when all of creation is transformed into the New Jerusalem, everyone will be made clean and pure. All things will be made new.
John’s vision of the New Jerusalem pictures a purified and redeemed humanity and a fallen world delivered from the bondage of evil by the God whose grace transforms both pious individual souls and all of creation.
It is significant that John’s vision of the end of time takes place in a radically inclusive city rather than an idyllic wilderness. At the time, cities were metaphors for—and living sources of—safety and protection. Early Christianity was an urban religion, a faith that had to do with establishing justice in the gates of the city and witnessing to the truth in the marketplace amidst the complexities of social, economic, and political life.
Has John chosen a city as the symbol of eternal salvation because a city is the realization of human community, the concrete living-out of interdependence as the essential nature of human life? In a city, the tasks of life are divided up; each one of us does a part and the beauty of life is not a solo performance, but a symphony.
As community, a city is not streets and buildings, but people. The whole, not the individual, is central. And behind John’s imagery of the New Jerusalem is his conviction that God’s final dwelling place is in and with God’s people. The city as a whole is the community of believers, the living, breathing temple in which God dwells.
With this vision, John affirms this world and its value and pictures eternal salvation as the making-whole, the healing, of the world and of history itself. He envisions transcendent salvation as a world in which all that is human is taken up and transformed, a world in which nothing human is lost.
John’s words about the New Jerusalem are not a literal description of a vision of the holy city and eternal reality. Rather, they are a metaphor that allows a glimpse of the character of the eternal world to break through into our daily existence.
The depth and detail of this vision, and its location at the end of John’s letter, speaks to its importance in his theology. He is describing the ultimate destiny of our lives as individuals and of the life of the entire world. The meaning of John’s revelation is the revelation of the character and nature of God’s goal for creation—and God’s goal for each of us.
IV.
This is the vision toward which we live and move, and in which we can—and do and will—have our being.
But this is more than a vision for the future. It is an orientation for life in the present.
If John is correct about where the world is finally going under the sovereign grace of God—and I think he is—then every thought, every prayer, every move, every deed in some other direction is out of step with Reality and is finally wasted.
Do not let your lives be wasted. Live in ways that are in step with this vision—practicing what theologian Rebecca Chopp calls “anticipatory action.”
Act in your daily lives—at the breakfast table, the post office, the school—act in ways that anticipate justice for all. Act in ways that help make God’s radical inclusivity a reality. Act in ways that lead to peace and to open doors and to the end of grief and to the end of death. Act in ways that transform yourself and others for participation in the marvelous city through which flows the river of the water of life. Act in ways that acknowledge and value our interdependence as creatures of God and residents of a holy city in which we will see God face-to-face.
God’s goal will be fulfilled, no matter what humans do to thwart it. This vision from John calls us to recognize our wounds, our sinful ways, the ways in which we veer away from the reality of the New Jerusalem, and to repent—turn toward a new way of living, a way of living that anticipates the New Jerusalem here and now.
In our baptism we were chosen to be an active part of God’s kingdom. In our baptism, each of us has been called to a sacred vocation, some sacred work that God created us to do. And by living into that vocation, that work full of purpose, we are helping make the New Jerusalem a reality.
Perhaps your vocation is teaching children. Perhaps it is listening to someone who is hurting or alone. Perhaps it is singing God’s glory. Perhaps it is tending God’s creation, or discovering the cure for cancer, or caring for a baby God has entrusted to you, or finding a way to end hunger. Perhaps it is aging faithfully and helping others to do the same.
Vocation can be tricky to identify, but you discover your vocation through prayer and through listening to your life. Pay attention to the moments that give you joy and make you feel a part of some bigger purpose. Ask yourself: If time, training, or talent was no obstacle, what would you do for God and the church in the world?
No matter how you have answered that question in the past, know that your vocation shifts over time. What God calls you to do in your twenties might be quite different from what God calls you to do in your forties or sixties or eighties or nineties.
But no matter what your age, there is sacred work for you to do, work that contributes to the real/ization of the New Jerusalem, work that adds to the transformation and salvation of all of creation, from the tiniest earthworm burrowing in the soil along the Trinity River to the farthest star you can see at night from the football field up on Methodist Hill.
Yes, our world is shrouded in darkness. But a light shines at the heart of Reality, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
God has called you as an instrument of sacred work, to add to the light of the world. Listen to that call and respond to it with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength.
And keep John’s vision before you: a holy city bathed in light, where darkness never falls. It is your destiny, your inheritance.
May it be so among us this very day, in the name of the World-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.
The brightness of the afternoon sun, the warmth of May, the smell of spring rain: None of the things I treasured about last week betrayed the fact that our world is shrouded in darkness. But it is.
The horrific execution of American businessman Nicholas Berg in Iraq, unveiled to the world on videotape Tuesday, was juxtaposed a day later with the release to Congress of even more photographs of the American military abusing Iraqi prisoners in violation of the Geneva Accords.
Do we need any other proof that something evil has this world in its clutches? Because there’s plenty:
AIDS is ravaging Africa and Asia and the inner cities of America; rates of adolescent suicide and adolescent pregnancy continue to rise; the fastest-growing jobs are low-paying, service-industry positions with little opportunity for advancement; children are sexually abused by parents and other people they trust; human greed continues to condemn the majority of the world’s citizens to poverty and hunger.
Do you think our new high-school graduates—the thoughtful ones, at least—are wondering: “Where am I headed, and where is the world headed? What is the purpose of my life in a world like this?”
But Christians have always lived in a world like this—and always asked those nagging questions.
II.
When the prophet John wrote his letter to the seven churches of Asia—the letter we know as the book of Revelation—Christians not only faced brutal persecution that would only get worse. They also lived in a tumultuous region, a part of the Turkish coast ravaged by war and natural disaster.
John wrote in the late 90’s of the first century, a time when the reign of three emperors in two years gave rise to never-ending political turmoil. The Roman Empire was struggling to hold onto its power, fighting war after war. Widespread famine devastated the villages, and the earth itself seemed unstable; earthquakes rocked the area and in 79 Vesuvius erupted, burying Pompeii and its neighbors and creating a massive cloud of ash and darkness across the region, which added to the widespread anxiety. There was tremendous social and economic discrimination.
On top of it all, the church was in crisis. Its apostolic leaders—those who actually knew Jesus—were dying, and the church lacked a firm structure or sense of self-identity to lead it into the future. Christian converts were mostly poor, lower-class people with little hope for power in the political and social structure of the Roman Empire.
And they were asking: Where are we headed? Where is the world headed? What is our purpose in a world like this?
John’s letter to the churches, his revelation, is an answer to those questions: Our destiny and our purpose, John concludes, is the New Jerusalem, a heavenly city where we will live in the direct presence of God, face-to-face with the Holy One that no human being but Christ has ever seen, engulfed in endless light.
III.
“I saw no temple in the city,” John writes, “for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. . . . The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and God’s servants will worship God; they will see God’s face, and God’s name will be on their forehead.”
This is a vision of a place where there is no separation between the holy and the profane, where God is ever-present to us, where all of reality is a temple and the divine presence is directly, intimately available. In this city, God is present in the midst of the everyday, not limited to some designated holy place or some special holy time. In the New Jerusalem, all of the people of God will be priests, and God will claim us as God’s own, inscribing on our foreheads the Holy Name that no one has ever known before.
“And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it,” John writes, “for the glory of the Lord is its light, and its lamp is the lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Its gates will never be shut. . . . People will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations.”
This is a vision of a city where everyone is welcome, all the time. All of the nations will be there—even those who had given their earthly allegiance to the emperor, to false gods, to economic prosperity for a few rather than justice for all; all of the nations will be there—even those who persecuted the Christians.
“Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal,” John writes, “. . . On either side of the river is the tree of life . . . ; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. Nothing accursed will be found there anymore.”
The nations—wracked by war and disease, plagued by discrimination and poverty, turning toward false gods for comfort—the nations will be healed of all that troubles them when they enter this city that is also a garden, where the tree of life and the river of life both dwell. And nothing accursed will be found there anymore.
Notice that John doesn’t say the inhabitants of the city will never have been unclean or practiced abomination or falsehood, or have been cursed, but that in the fullness of time, when all of creation is transformed into the New Jerusalem, everyone will be made clean and pure. All things will be made new.
John’s vision of the New Jerusalem pictures a purified and redeemed humanity and a fallen world delivered from the bondage of evil by the God whose grace transforms both pious individual souls and all of creation.
It is significant that John’s vision of the end of time takes place in a radically inclusive city rather than an idyllic wilderness. At the time, cities were metaphors for—and living sources of—safety and protection. Early Christianity was an urban religion, a faith that had to do with establishing justice in the gates of the city and witnessing to the truth in the marketplace amidst the complexities of social, economic, and political life.
Has John chosen a city as the symbol of eternal salvation because a city is the realization of human community, the concrete living-out of interdependence as the essential nature of human life? In a city, the tasks of life are divided up; each one of us does a part and the beauty of life is not a solo performance, but a symphony.
As community, a city is not streets and buildings, but people. The whole, not the individual, is central. And behind John’s imagery of the New Jerusalem is his conviction that God’s final dwelling place is in and with God’s people. The city as a whole is the community of believers, the living, breathing temple in which God dwells.
With this vision, John affirms this world and its value and pictures eternal salvation as the making-whole, the healing, of the world and of history itself. He envisions transcendent salvation as a world in which all that is human is taken up and transformed, a world in which nothing human is lost.
John’s words about the New Jerusalem are not a literal description of a vision of the holy city and eternal reality. Rather, they are a metaphor that allows a glimpse of the character of the eternal world to break through into our daily existence.
The depth and detail of this vision, and its location at the end of John’s letter, speaks to its importance in his theology. He is describing the ultimate destiny of our lives as individuals and of the life of the entire world. The meaning of John’s revelation is the revelation of the character and nature of God’s goal for creation—and God’s goal for each of us.
IV.
This is the vision toward which we live and move, and in which we can—and do and will—have our being.
But this is more than a vision for the future. It is an orientation for life in the present.
If John is correct about where the world is finally going under the sovereign grace of God—and I think he is—then every thought, every prayer, every move, every deed in some other direction is out of step with Reality and is finally wasted.
Do not let your lives be wasted. Live in ways that are in step with this vision—practicing what theologian Rebecca Chopp calls “anticipatory action.”
Act in your daily lives—at the breakfast table, the post office, the school—act in ways that anticipate justice for all. Act in ways that help make God’s radical inclusivity a reality. Act in ways that lead to peace and to open doors and to the end of grief and to the end of death. Act in ways that transform yourself and others for participation in the marvelous city through which flows the river of the water of life. Act in ways that acknowledge and value our interdependence as creatures of God and residents of a holy city in which we will see God face-to-face.
God’s goal will be fulfilled, no matter what humans do to thwart it. This vision from John calls us to recognize our wounds, our sinful ways, the ways in which we veer away from the reality of the New Jerusalem, and to repent—turn toward a new way of living, a way of living that anticipates the New Jerusalem here and now.
In our baptism we were chosen to be an active part of God’s kingdom. In our baptism, each of us has been called to a sacred vocation, some sacred work that God created us to do. And by living into that vocation, that work full of purpose, we are helping make the New Jerusalem a reality.
Perhaps your vocation is teaching children. Perhaps it is listening to someone who is hurting or alone. Perhaps it is singing God’s glory. Perhaps it is tending God’s creation, or discovering the cure for cancer, or caring for a baby God has entrusted to you, or finding a way to end hunger. Perhaps it is aging faithfully and helping others to do the same.
Vocation can be tricky to identify, but you discover your vocation through prayer and through listening to your life. Pay attention to the moments that give you joy and make you feel a part of some bigger purpose. Ask yourself: If time, training, or talent was no obstacle, what would you do for God and the church in the world?
No matter how you have answered that question in the past, know that your vocation shifts over time. What God calls you to do in your twenties might be quite different from what God calls you to do in your forties or sixties or eighties or nineties.
But no matter what your age, there is sacred work for you to do, work that contributes to the real/ization of the New Jerusalem, work that adds to the transformation and salvation of all of creation, from the tiniest earthworm burrowing in the soil along the Trinity River to the farthest star you can see at night from the football field up on Methodist Hill.
Yes, our world is shrouded in darkness. But a light shines at the heart of Reality, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
God has called you as an instrument of sacred work, to add to the light of the world. Listen to that call and respond to it with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength.
And keep John’s vision before you: a holy city bathed in light, where darkness never falls. It is your destiny, your inheritance.
May it be so among us this very day, in the name of the World-Maker, Pain-Bearer, Life-Giver. Amen.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
"The Lord is risen!"
That headline's quite an affirmation on the day after the execution of an American citizen in Iraq and on the same day that Congress received new photos of US soldiers abusing Iraqi prisoners-of-war.
These are dark times, and I suspect they will grow darker yet as the war in Iraq continues.
But people who belong to Christ--people like us--affirm that a light shines in this darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
Simply put, the transformation of creation, God's ultimate purpose for us and the entire cosmos, will reverse the dark wounds of humanity and bring healing and justice to all.
We'll talk about that vision for the future, and what it means for our lives, in Sunday's sermon based on Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5: the revelation of the New Jerusalem in the fullness of time. For the third week, we'll experiment with multimedia in worship, taking a look at various depictions of this vision throughout history.
Our other lessons will include Acts 16:9-15, about the apostle Paul creating a new Christian community in Macedonia, and John 14:23-29, in which Jesus offers comfort to his disciples even as he says goodbye.
We'll sing "Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty," "Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken," and "O Master, Let Me Walk with Thee."
BUTTERFIELD BOOTH: Make sure you stop by the church's booth at the Butterfield Stagecoach Days Saturday in Harwood Park in downtown Bridgeport. Church members staffing the booth would love to meet you, and we'll have new brochures for you to take a look at.
LUNCH ON SUNDAY: Our congregation will have a feast day this Sunday with a potluck lunch in the fellowship hall following worship. Please join us! The Presbyterian Women will lead a program on their Birthday Offering, and I'll teach a second lesson on hospitality titled "Entertaining Angels."
COMMUNITY DINNER: We’re inviting more than 100 people from around Bridgeport to join us for barbecue, games, and singing on Saturday, June 12. If you'd like to attend, drop me an e-mail.
These are dark times, and I suspect they will grow darker yet as the war in Iraq continues.
But people who belong to Christ--people like us--affirm that a light shines in this darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
Simply put, the transformation of creation, God's ultimate purpose for us and the entire cosmos, will reverse the dark wounds of humanity and bring healing and justice to all.
We'll talk about that vision for the future, and what it means for our lives, in Sunday's sermon based on Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5: the revelation of the New Jerusalem in the fullness of time. For the third week, we'll experiment with multimedia in worship, taking a look at various depictions of this vision throughout history.
Our other lessons will include Acts 16:9-15, about the apostle Paul creating a new Christian community in Macedonia, and John 14:23-29, in which Jesus offers comfort to his disciples even as he says goodbye.
We'll sing "Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty," "Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken," and "O Master, Let Me Walk with Thee."
BUTTERFIELD BOOTH: Make sure you stop by the church's booth at the Butterfield Stagecoach Days Saturday in Harwood Park in downtown Bridgeport. Church members staffing the booth would love to meet you, and we'll have new brochures for you to take a look at.
LUNCH ON SUNDAY: Our congregation will have a feast day this Sunday with a potluck lunch in the fellowship hall following worship. Please join us! The Presbyterian Women will lead a program on their Birthday Offering, and I'll teach a second lesson on hospitality titled "Entertaining Angels."
COMMUNITY DINNER: We’re inviting more than 100 people from around Bridgeport to join us for barbecue, games, and singing on Saturday, June 12. If you'd like to attend, drop me an e-mail.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Pass the salt . . .
Jesus told us that his followers should be "salty"--have a particular taste, and particular uses, when compared to the broader culture.
Keeping ourselves salty, however, can be a challenge--but this quick assessment from Christianity Today can remind us how to keep a unique Christian flavor in all parts of our lives.
Keeping ourselves salty, however, can be a challenge--but this quick assessment from Christianity Today can remind us how to keep a unique Christian flavor in all parts of our lives.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Food for the body and for the soul
Thanks to all who brought food for the hungry last month. Today we delivered at least eight sacks of groceries to the food bank at First United Methodist Church. The staff there reports more requests for assistance than is typical at this time of the year. We’ll bring food again on the third Sunday of May (May 16).
Our “month of experiments” in worship will continue Sunday with repeated, meditative readings of the sermon text and the interplay of images with the sermon and the Lord’s Prayer. We’ll also sing the contemporary hymn “Child of God” (which some of you might remember from a while back).
To prepare for worship, read Acts 11.1-18, which tells of a strange dream that Peter had that helped him see that God was extending the covenant beyond Israel to include the Gentiles. And then look at the hot water he gets himself into! In the sermon, we’ll explore at one way the conflict in this scripture is being played out in the contemporary church.
Our other readings will be Revelation 21:1-6, about the arrival of the New Jerusalem—God’s perfect community in the fullness of time—and John 13:31-35, in which Jesus gives us a new commandment related to love. We’ll also sing “Spirit of the Living God” and “Today We All Are Called to be Disciples.”
Hoping to see you Sunday—
Our “month of experiments” in worship will continue Sunday with repeated, meditative readings of the sermon text and the interplay of images with the sermon and the Lord’s Prayer. We’ll also sing the contemporary hymn “Child of God” (which some of you might remember from a while back).
To prepare for worship, read Acts 11.1-18, which tells of a strange dream that Peter had that helped him see that God was extending the covenant beyond Israel to include the Gentiles. And then look at the hot water he gets himself into! In the sermon, we’ll explore at one way the conflict in this scripture is being played out in the contemporary church.
Our other readings will be Revelation 21:1-6, about the arrival of the New Jerusalem—God’s perfect community in the fullness of time—and John 13:31-35, in which Jesus gives us a new commandment related to love. We’ll also sing “Spirit of the Living God” and “Today We All Are Called to be Disciples.”
Hoping to see you Sunday—
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Branding, Brueggemann style
A prayer from Hebrew Bible scholar Walter Brueggemann:
"You mark us with your water,
You scar us with your name,
You brand us with your vision,
and we ponder our baptism, your water,
your name,
your vision.
While we ponder, we are otherwise branded.
Our imagination is consumed by other brands,
- winning with Nike,
- pausing with Coca-Cola,
- knowing and controlling with Microsoft.
Re-brand us,
transform our minds,
renew our imagination.
that we may be more fully who we are marked
and hoped to be,
we pray with candor and courage. Amen"
"You mark us with your water,
You scar us with your name,
You brand us with your vision,
and we ponder our baptism, your water,
your name,
your vision.
While we ponder, we are otherwise branded.
Our imagination is consumed by other brands,
- winning with Nike,
- pausing with Coca-Cola,
- knowing and controlling with Microsoft.
Re-brand us,
transform our minds,
renew our imagination.
that we may be more fully who we are marked
and hoped to be,
we pray with candor and courage. Amen"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)