Relationship Building 301--1 Corinthians 13

I’m fairly certain the love chapter is one of the most read and most well-known scriptures in the Bible. My guess is that most of us could recite it, or at least most of it, from memory. Love is patient, love is kind, it is not envious or boastful. It holds no records of wrongs. It is not arrogant or rude. Love hopes all things, believes all things, and endures all things.

Love is a good thing. It’s straightforward and simple and it gives us warm fuzzies. We talk about love and most of us around on board. Yeah. I want to be loved. I want to love people. I got this thing nailed. Often, I think we take love for granted. We’ve heard this passage so many times and countless sermons about love that we don’t believe there’s anything else to hear. Some of us may have already tuned out because we think we already fully understand this chapter so we can go back to our golf lesson, or to-do list, or figuring out who’s here and who’s missing and who’s just sitting in a different spot.

But the reality is that the love described in this chapter is not so easy. Sure it sounds simple. Patience , kindness, humility…blah blah blah. Those are the words we always hear when we talk about love, that’s nothing new. And it’s not new. Not at all. Love began in the beginning of time. When God set things in motion, God loved us. Throughout our ups and downs, trials and tribulations, God has loved us. In our most joyous celebrations and our darkest mourning, God has loved us.

It’s simple really. Too simple, actually. We’ve heard it so often that I think we’ve probably become immune to it. We’ve over-simplified it really. Because when you get down to it, this love that is described is incredibly challenging. Simple, yes. Easy, NO! Think about it—how completely have you loved lately? I’ll be honest, when I inventoried myself I didn’t do so well. Patience, check. Well, sort of. I was short with Beth on the phone. I yelled at the dogs. I couldn’t wait for Maggie to stop talking so I could get back to what I was doing. Patience, um, half check?! I definitely wasn’t patient with myself when I didn’t get all my errands run, or all the boxes unpacked. Patience…umm…quarter check.

Ok, let’s try kindness. The Greek word translates as benevolence or to show one’s self useful or to be kind. Well, I was fairly helpful this week. I think….I helped at VBS, I helped serve, I filled water balloons, yeah, I showed myself as useful. But did I do that completely and fully for everybody? There was that homeless man across the street, and I didn’t do much for him. And I’m not sure I directly neglected others, but was I as kind as I could have been? Kindness….half check.

Ok. On to envy. I think I should be pretty good on this one. I’m not really the jealous type. But I did covet that couch I saw, and the way her kitchen was designed. I did envy that woman whose dog didn’t pull on the leash. Hmm. Guess that’s another half check.

All this time I thought I was pretty good at love. I mean, I love a lot of people and feel loved by them. It seemed so simple. But to truly love. To love wholly and completely, that’s hard work. Really hard work. And who would have thought you had to work at love? There are tons of commands to love people in the Bible—love your neighbor, love God, love yourself, love those who do you harm, love your enemies, love the weak, love the poor, love the hateful, love the murderer, love the unkind. I figured if I’m supposed to love so many people that it had to be feasible. Don’t you think?

I mean, love as it’s portrayed here seems nearly impossible. Sure, I can be patient and kind, humble and giving, sometimes…or maybe even most of the time. But all the time? Unconditionally? Let’s be honest—there are some people who just aren’t loveable. They’re obnoxious. They’re abusive. They’re hateful. They’re vengeful and they’re not my top pick for someone to love. But then there’s the kicker in the love chapter—“Love holds no records of wrongdoing”. What?!!? How is that even possible? Come on. That can’t possibly mean NOoooo wrongdoing, can it? None? Zip? Zero? Zilch? But what about the time….? Nope. And what about when….? Nope. Love holds no records of wrongs. Man, if I thought I fell short on the patience and kindness side of things, I don’t even want to explore my long list of wrongs others have committed. I still remember when Matt Lamimon knocked my feet out from under me in first grade! No record of wrongs. Gimme a break!

But that’s what the scripture says. Love holds no records of wrongs. Love is hard. This is a big task God has placed in front of us. And if we’re not careful it becomes overwhelming, paralyzing even. We edge into thoughts like, “Well, if that’s what love is, there’s no way I can do that, so I might as well not even try.” If that’s where you’re at, I totally understand you. But the love chapter isn’t meant to challenge us into apathy. It’s not supposed to make us quit trying. It’s supposed to help us know that we can always keep growing in love, that we can always love more deeply and more fully. And it’s also there to help us know how profoundly God loves us.

Understanding the depth and breadth of God’s love is difficult. It stretches our imagination. I mean, if I can’t love perfectly and don’t know anyone who can, how could I possibly imagine what God’s perfect love is like? I can get mostly there, but I’m not sure I can stay there very long before my doubts take over.

Nevertheless, I think the best lesson in what true love is came from Eva and Charles Brown. Eva had Alzheimer’s and by the time I met her, she was already in the late stages. She could no longer communicate. She could no longer sit or stand on her own. She had to be hand-fed. She was completely dependent on the care of others. Her husband Charles was by her side faithfully each day. Her battle with Alzheimer’s lasted over 15 years and even at the end, when she was in a care facility, Charles would come to feed her, hold her hand, and be with her. Charles in and of himself was an incredible example of love. He displayed so many characteristics of love that are in this Corinthians passage. But I want us to focus on Eva, not on Charles. Some of you may wonder why we would focus on Eva, after all, she couldn’t speak or walk, or even feed herself, how was she capable of love? It may be challenging to understand, after all, we associate so much of love with doing—the care giving, the hugs, the words of affirmation, the small acts of kindness, the gifts—that’s love. Right?! Wrong. Those are signs of love, ways that we show love. But love at its core is what is described in 1 Corinthians—it is patient, it is kind, it is not envious or boastful, it is not proud or rude, but it endures, it hopes, it believes. And when you were in Eva’s presence, really with her in the moment—you couldn’t help but love.

You see, with Eva, there was no past. She could no longer remember it. She, unlike me, had no record of wrongs—neither her own shortcomings nor those of others. With Eva there was also no future. Firstly, her future wasn’t promised. None of ours is really, but looking at her and knowing her illness, it was obvious that the future was not what was key. With Eva there was only the present—only that moment, right then and there that you were with her and she was with you.

With Eva there was no room for impatience. Sure it could be frustrating not being able to have a conversation, having to feed her and wipe her lips, to do everything she needed to be healthy. But if you could let those expectations go. If you could recognize that she couldn’t, nor ever would be able to do those things again, you could just be in the moment with her. It didn’t require patience, it just required acceptance. Often, impatience stems from unmet expectations. We want a project finished by a certain day and time. We expect certain behavior. We strive for certain accomplishments. And when those things don’t happen, we get impatient. But if we didn’t put all our hope and energy into some future thing, then we could just be present in the moment and there wouldn’t be anything to be impatient about.

Eva taught me a lot about love. She particularly taught me about God’s love. For God’s love does not depend on our accomplishments, our GPA, our salary level, our rank, or our status. God’s love just is. God’s love is present in the moment; it holds no record of wrongs. It is patient, it is kind. It is not envious or boastful. God’s love hopes all things, believes all things, and endures all things. Similarly, Eva did not care what I wore, what degrees I had, whether I was overweight or underweight. She did not care if I spoke improperly or with an accent. She was simply present with me, exemplifying all the elements of love when I was with her.

Last week we looked at James and how our actions are a reflection, a manifestation, a fruit of our faith. We saw how we need to spend time investing in others to grow in our relationship with God and with others. We saw how giving of ourselves makes us a better person. And yet, we must always hold that in tension with this lesson about love. Love comes first, independent of who we are, where we’ve been, what we’ve done. And our future actions are a result of that love. We do not earn love. We do not achieve love. We just love. We stay present in the moment, clearing away expectations, and allowing for things to happen as they will.

We’re back to love sounding easy right. Yet, somehow I continue to stumble through this scripture, through this lesson. I stumble because as clearly as I saw and understood love through and with Eva, I have a 101 doubts about doing that ceaselessly. I have things to do. I have places to go. I have unjust situations to fight against. No expectations?! Yeah right. I expect people to act right. I expect people to strive to be better. I expect dedication. I expect commitment. And really, could I really spend my life living without a past and without a future—I mean, not caught up in those thoughts? I have to learn from my past. I have to see my errors and my successes and use those to better my future. I have to plan for my future, for retirement, heck, I have to plan my next sermon, the next staff meeting, the next step for our district in congregational growth and development. How could I lay all those things down?!

Maybe I’m going to be stuck with imperfect love forever. Or maybe I can find ways to let those Eva moments pervade in my life. Maybe I can’t live those Christ-like Eva moments every hour of every day, but I can seek to make them more regular in my life. When I spend time with someone, I can be present with them, ignoring the past and the future and simply focusing on the present. I can remember that my impatience stems from unmet expectations and can change my level of expectations. I can cherish each moment for what it is, nothing more, nothing less. And maybe, just maybe, I can edge closer to God’s perfected love.

Relationship Building 201

This whole month, we are going to be talking about relationships. Last week we started with Ephesians, talking about husbands and wives, as well as our relationship with Christ. Hopefully, for both instances, you saw how relationships should be about mutuality, reciprocity, love, and respect not dominance, subjugation, and inequality. Even the God of all the universe desires to be in a mutual relationship with us.

Today, we are looking at James chapter 2—faith without works is dead. James 2 is one of my favorite passages in scripture. I feel very strongly about doing something with my faith, about sharing God’s love, about living Christ’s example of humble service from the last supper. My conviction is so strong that sometimes it edges into works righteousness—the belief that we earn redemption if we just do enough good. To be quite honest., I’ve had to work hard to accept God’s grace as it comes despite my flaws, and in spite of my lack of action. God loves me, accepts me, and redeems me regardless of who I am or what I’ve done. And, of course, the same is true for you. You do not have to earn God’s love. In fat, you CANNOT earn God’s love—it is a gift of grace—something that can never be earned. It can only be given and received.

Now, despite my love of this passage, or maybe because of it, I heard the passage differently this week. This time as I looked at it again and thought about relationships, I heard not just the encouragement to act on our faith, but I also heard how action leads to deepening our faith—how it strengthens our relationships with Christ and with others. I heard the need to be intentional in our faith walk and relationship building with God.

I regularly look at things in the everyday and see a theological theme and my experience with the show the Bachelorette was no different. This year, I got hooked on the show. Now, in years past I have not had a tinge of interest in either the Bachelor series or the Bachelorette. I’ve avoided the competitive, selfish, forced, and superficial nature of these relationships of this so-called “Reality” tv show. But, somehow, this year was different. This year I watched faithfully as this 26 year old southern belle from Atlanta dated and discerned her way to a life partner. I can’t tell you why exactly I watched DeAnna and her group of bachelors week after week—maybe it was my similarities with her—age, hair color, having lived in Atlanta, hoping to find a bachelor who meets my expectations, or maybe it was the stellar men who lined up at her door—either way, I watched.

I loved the show and would discuss it with friends as they joked that I should be nominated next. And yet, despite my interest, I also had to critique it. The romantic and once-in-a-lifetime dates were incredible, enviable even, but I was always hoping for something more. I wanted a greater test of character, something that added even more depth to their relationships. I began imagining my own dates—a visit to a local homeless shelter to wash feet and feed the hungry, after-school tutoring for elementary kids, building a house for Habitat for Humanity or with UMCOR along the Gulf Coast in Mississippi. I yearned for dates that shape people, that challenge them, and that draw them into being a better person and a better partner.

Having dinner together is great, but I think we learn and grow so much more when we live beyond ourselves, when we invest in others, and when we live the love that God has given.

For me, the need for greater depth of activity and relationships on the Bachelorette parallels our need for greater depth in our actions and in our relationships in our faith walk. I’d parallel going out to dinner on a date with going to church on Sunday. I know, they’re fairly incongruent, but hear me out. Generally, if you’re going to go on a date, going to dinner is a basic, often a given, and an element of relationships that is fundamental and expected. Similarly, if you are a believer—you go o church. It’s the easiest way to identify a disciple—they go to church regularly. Church attendance is basic, fundamental, and generally expected for the Christian faith journey.

Now, let me be clear, I am not criticizing either of these activities. I’ve gone to dinner on my fair share of dates and I obviously believe in going to church! But I also believe in doing more for our relationships. Going to church is a first step. It is fundamental and key to our faith for the way it forms bonds between us and others, how it draws us into worship regularly, how it challenges us to hear and practice God’s word and how it reminds us to be open to receiving God’s blessings. And as great as the blessings are when we gather for worship, there are even greater blessings when we invest in reading together, loving others, giving of ourselves, investing in the lives and well-being of those in need, in sharing of ourselves and our faith story, in praying with one another, in challenging our beliefs, in ridding ourselves of bad habits.

Yes, we can have a good relationship just by going to church, but we have better chances of a great relationship, of really growing in God and with others when we do Christ’s works—when we live our faith.

Let me give you another example, say you grew up, like I did, eating meat and potatoes, chicken, meatloaf, salad, grilled cheese and pancakes, and a variety of fruits and vegetables. You had a good wholesome diet that provided you the nutrients you needed. You had a good menu of foods to eat. But what if your menu could be great?! What if you could sample from the amazing schmorgasborg of food available around the world? Would you enjoy the spice of salsa? Tender lamb with yogurt dill sauce? Mango chutney? The spice of kimchi? The palate cleansing zip of wasabi on your sushi? Not only would you find new flavors, but you would also receive new nutrients and more vitamins and minerals that fuel your body. It’s not that your original diet was wrong, just that there is so much more you could add to it.

In a similar way, your relationship with Christ and with others may be balanced with study, prayer, worship, and mission—a good faith diet. But there is also a schmorgasborg of flavors to try in our faith walk as well—there are hospital visits, covenant groups, meditation time, prayer development, Bible studies to last a life time, and thousands, if not millions, of ways to reach out and serve others.

As we read this passage in James, it’s not just that our works show our faith—that they are a fruit that proves we in fact have faith, but they are the means through which we grow in faith and grow in our relationship with God and with others. Our faith requires action. We need to be involved in active ministry—doing for others in order to receive all the nutrients our soul needs. So as you go forth this day and into the week, I want you to think about how you are nourishing your faith walk and your relationship with Christ. What activities of depth are you doing to foster your relationship? Are you serving others? Spending daily time in prayer? Regular time studying the word? Are you seeking greater depth and not sure where to turn? How are you being challenged in your faith so that you might grow stronger and more faithful?

You have homework this week! And if you want a conversation partner, please just give me a call or make an appointment to see me and we’ll sit and talk about your faith journey and how you might further develop your relationship with God and with others.

Luke 15:1-7: Replacement or appreciation?

1 Now the tax collectors and “sinners” were all gathering around to hear him. 2 but the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3 Then Jesus told them this parable: 4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it. 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in the presence of angels over one sinner who repents.”

For regulars in the church, this is not an unfamiliar story, or an unfamiliar message. We’ve heard it various times in various settings. God sets about looking for the lost, the one who is missing. God goes looking just for one, even if it means risking the loss of 99. It is simple and fairly straightforward. It is at the heart of our faith. God values me. God values you. Not either/or, but both/and. Both you and I.

More often than not, I think of myself as one of the 99. I don’t think I’m lost, or “astray”, not unprotected or alone in the world. And, to be quite honest, when I read this passage, as one of the 99, I get a bit jealous of the one. The one gets the shepherd’s attention and gets the huge celebration. I want to be celebrated. My desire to be special and recognized and to stick out kinda makes me want to go get lost…not because I want to be lost, but because I want special attention from the shepherd and I want to be celebrated.

And yet, deep down, I know the heart of this message is that the shepherd attends to me and celebrates my presence, just as the one is celebrated, if I were the lost one, the shepherd would come for me and risk losing the others. That’s the nature of God. Culturally, I think sometimes that’s hard to understand because we think in stark dichotomies. Either/or. Either the shepherd cares for you, or the shepherd cares for the others. Either you’re a winner or you’re a loser. Either you’re popular or you’re not. Either you’re rich or you’re poor. Either you’re a success or you’re a failure. It’s one or the other and there’s no room for gray. This forced choice equates to a theology of replacement. If I’m not taking A, I’m taking B. If X is no longer suitable, then I’ll take Y. But I really think that kingdom thinking involves both/and. It’s not about replacement, it’s about appreciation. I think God is a God of both/and. We are both sinners and we are saved. We are both broken and healed. God is both immanent and transcendent—known and unknown. Made both human and divine in the person of Christ. God’s rule of both/and regularly brings opposites together. God appreciates both who we are, and who we can be at our best. God appreciates our value, our beauty, our creativity, our “us-ness”. And God appreciates each one of us—individually and uniquely.

God appreciates us so much, that when we are lost and then found, God rejoices. In this parable the shepherd has pure joy at finding his sheep. So much joy that he calls his friends and neighbors to celebrate. Now, I’m not sure I know what it is to have this much joy at finding something. Either I don’t value what I have, or I’ve never actually lost anything of true value. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. Part of me thinks it’s because we have too much stuff. In all the abundance of consumerism, we actually undervalue what we have. We become desensitized to the value of one thing because we are overwhelmed by the presence of so many things.

As someone who works largely in a retirement community, it is common to hear stories of the depression and of how things were valued. Members recount stories of their one pair of shoes that got so raged and worn that they had to put cardboard in the bottom—not how they ran out and went to BoGo at Payless and got two new pairs for the price of one-but how those shoes were so essential, so important, that they had to be cared for even after the soles wore out. In that era, if something of value went missing—you went looking!! Each item had value and importance and could not afford to be lost.

Now, in modern day America, I’d venture to say, even though I’ll sound I’ve aged 60 years—I just don’t think we value things any more. I mean, if my jeans tear—I’ll buy new ones. I may or may not patch the old ones, and I most certainly will not turn them into an apron or a blanket for the winter. If the crackers go stale, I’ll throw them out. If I don’t like my home furnishings, I’ll redecorate. And it’s not that there’s anything inherently wrong with these actions—but a problem arises when they emerge because what we have is all replaceable, which, in turn, makes it insignificant and unvaluable.

With an abundance of things and a heavily populated world, we begin to fail to appreciate the individual, the one, and all of that can make this parable just a little bit beyond our reach. It’s hard for us to understand why the pastor would make such an effort for just one—I mean, it’s just one—he has 99 more. It’s not a big loss. At least not through the modern theological lens of replacement. Our theory is you just go buy another one or wait for a new one to be born. Better one is lost than 99. Right?

But God is not a God of replacement. One sheep, one person, is not simply “as good as” the next, each is precious and valuable and worth risking everything for. God risks everything for each of us, separately, individually, uniquely God claims us as worthy and valuable—both lost and found, both/and, God values each of us.

For many of us, even in our faith, we have fallen victim to the lures of consumerism and a theology of replacement. If one member leaves, we simply wait for another to come along. There are too many people here for us to even begin to really value each one individually and deeply, and so we have a general “oh-yeah-it’s-great-you’re-here” mentality, but what happens when someone doesn’t come back? Are we willing to risk everything and go looking when someone doesn’t return? With society at large, we know, you and I, there are people who are not with us, for whatever reason—some have left the church, some have their own “privatized” spirituality, others have never crossed the threshold, and we have failed to be concerned about their absence. Okay, maybe we think about one or two of them, or maybe we talk generally about wanting those who are not here to be here, but how many of us are really willing to follow the example of the shepherd and go find them? To leave the majority? To risk losing those relationships as we seek to find that “one” who is not with us? To risk danger? To wander into the unknown? To make more than one phone call or send more than one card? How many of us seek each one out, immensely concerned with their welfare, until we find them and can come back celebrating?

I assume all of you value being a part of the flock, part of the community, guided and protected by the shepherd, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, right? Hopefully, you enjoy this place, these people, these relationships, and if you do, then be preoccupied with the absence of others. Take an interest in their whereabouts. Seek them out, even if it means risking it all. Why? Because we are called to love as God loves, to live as Christ lived, to value and appreciate each individual, knowing that there is no way we can replace them. Our heart breaks when they aren’t with us. We yearn for their return, and we don’t just wait for it to happen, for them to “come around”. We are called to go seek them out, to bring them back, to remind, to tell each person how valuable and precious they are. In God’s kingdom, no one is just a number, lost in the crowd, forgotten or neglected—each person is priceless and precious.

I hope you know that. I hope you believe that for yourself—that no matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done, God sees you as priceless and precious. And I hope you share that. I hope you can reject a theology of replacement and have a theology of appreciation instead. One that values each person as God values them and an undying urge to go and share this good news, to bring those who are not with the flock back so that they too can relish the joy of being celebrated as one of God’s beloved.

[transition needed]

This week I’ve had the privilege of having Beth here with me. I’ve gotten to show her my “home”. We’ve been by the schools, to the places I used to hang out, by the old hangouts, and we’ve been able to visit and enjoy much of the natural beauty that surrounds us here. We’ve been to Mono Lake, Crowley, Mammoth, Lake Mary, Mammoth Mountain, through the deserts, smelled the sage, and been cooled by the mountain air. If you’re a local, you know these places well, if you’re from out of town, they’re probably part of the reason you’re here! At each turn Beth has been awed and amazed at the greatness and beauty of our surroundings. Often, she is moved to tears. Regularly she’s said, “It’s all just so beautiful”. And she’s right, it’s incredible. I love these mountains, these valleys, this desert, and the lakes. I miss them when I’m gone and celebrate the beauty each time I’m back. And yet, at the same time, I am not moved to tears. I’m not sure I ever have been. I may regret that confession, but honestly, I haven’t, namely because it’s been a part of my life since the beginning, so I’ve never had the opportunity to be struck by the awesome size of Mt. Tom, or the expanse of the valley before me. Sure, I love them, but there’s a plethora of beauty here, so much so, that it’s become so common that I take it for granted. As I have watched Beth in her wonderment, I have to admit I’ve coveted the wonderment and newness of it all. I’ve wanted to be overwhelmed by the majesty of it all.

The power of Beth’s experiences and her appreciation of these surroundings got me thinking about our faith. Imagine for a minute that having spent your life as a Christian, learning of God’s love, being forgiven even when you knew you didn’t deserve it. Knowing the depth of God’s love, is like being a local here. You know and recognize the beauty of God’s love like you know and recognize the beauty of Mt. Tom. You cherish it and love it, and at the same time, it has become so much a part of you that you no longer stand in awe. And then one day you meet someone who has never before seen these things. The mercy, the grace, the compassion, the humble self-giving--it’s new. It’s different. It’s breathtaking. And they’re overcome.

We should want to enjoy the wonder, greatness, and majesty of God’s love, as if we were newcomers. We should allow ourselves to be drawn in anew into the marvelous things we have taken for granted. We should look at the generosity of God’s love, which does not value us based on the color of our skin, our gender, our legal status, our sexual orientation, our political party, our economic status, or our level of education, and we should be consumed with joy. God, the great judge, does not hold these things against us, even when society does. God chooses us. God beckons us. God seeks us out. God appreciates us. God cares when we are missing. And God risks it all to get us back.

That, my friends, is good news. Really good news. Take a moment to soak it in. Revel in it. Be overwhelmed by it. And when you leave this place today, go share it. Share it with enthusiasm and pure joy. Share it as Beth will share her stories of the Sierra Nevada. And then follow Christ’s example and go seek out those who are missing from our midst, know that they are not replaceable-–not to you and not to God, and help them to know the same. Convince them that they are appreciated and missed, and then when they join you, ask your friends and neighbors to celebrate with you.

Juan 12:44-46 Anhelando Esperanza

Casi siempre anhelamos esperanza. Anhelamos promesas. Necesitamos saber que las cosas nos van a salir bien. Necesitamos saber que la guerra cesará, que los matrimonios reconciliarán, que los niños dejarán de ser traviesos, que las enfermedades curarán, que se encontrarán trabajos. Necesitamos saber que hay algo más que prueba, dificultades, pleitos, e ira. Hay que haber algo más.

Muchas veces miramos al mundo y hacemos una lista de nuestra peticiones—por los dueños de trabajo que no son éticos, por los políticos corruptos, por los países quebrados por Guerra, por los huérfanos, por los refugios, por los deportados, por los con SIDA, por los con cáncer, por los que no reciben educación, ni cuidado médico, ni agua fresca, por los víctimas de abuso y violencia. Se puede añadir más y más y más. Nuestro tiempo de oración empieza pesar y de ser una carga por los problemas del mundo. Aun, por el peso de nuestros propios problemas. Necesitamos esperanza. Necesitamos algo que podamos agarrar para que no se oscurezca tanto, para que no sea deprimente.

Yo creo que la mayoría de nosotros hemos experimentado esta oscuridad—depresión, aislación, nadie con quien hablar, aflicción, perdida de un trabajo, falta de cuidado medico, enfermedad, dolor, relaciones quebradas, traición, divorcio, el rechazo. De una manera u otra, la oscuridad ha amenazado consumirnos. Para algunos solo han sido unas horas, por otros la noche larga y oscura amenaza no ofrecer el amanecer, o para otros el dolor ha sido tan grande que nos quitó el aire, aun el querer vivir.

Es en aquellos tiempo que anhelamos una operación de rescate. Necesitamos que los soldados de esperanza nos lleven. Anhelamos que el hombre vestido en azul y rojo vuele y nos agarre y nos lleve al paraíso. Nuestro corazón llama al caballero para que luche en contra al señor oscuro.

Es en estos momentos que nuestro corazón grita en las palabras del salmista, “Hasta cuando Señor?” Y lo más increíble es que Dios nos escucha el grito. Dios responde, “No mucho, mijo, estoy contigo.” Dios viene para conquistar a la oscuridad.

Juan 12:44-46 dice, “El que cree en mi—clamó Jesús, con voz fuerte--, cree no solo en mi sino en el que me envió. Y el que me ve a mi, ve al que me envió. Yo soy la luz que ha venido al mundo, para que todo el que crea en mi no viva en tinieblas.” Yo soy la luz que ha venido al mundo, para que todo el que crea en mi no viva en tinieblas.

Jesucristo es la luz. Brilla aun por lo más grave de circunstancias. Aun cuando nos consume la oscuridad, su luz esta allí para iluminarnos. Aun poca luz hace una diferencia.

Bueno, el problema es que muchas veces esperamos al superheroe. Queremos que alguien venga en caballo o vuele con fuerzas no-humanas y ponga todo en orden. Y yo creo, de cierta manera, que también fue lo que esperaban los Israelitas del siglo uno—querían un Goliat de los suyos que pudiera conquistar a los Romanos e iluminara a la tierra prometida. Y, parece que si Dios puede poner en moción el mundo, y coordinar el nieve y el sol, y soñar de los dinosaurios a las mariposas, Dios debe tener poder para crear un líder fuerte y bueno que pueda poner las cosas en orden, ¿verdad?

Pero Dios no lo hizo así. Dios es el tipo que disfruta las sorpresas. Tenemos que esperar lo inesperado. En vez de un gigante listo a conquistar el mundo, Dios mando un infante. En vez de un líder poderoso, Dios mando un siervo humilde. En vez de un hombre volando con fuerzas no humanas, Dios mando alguien a colgar en la cruz. Y si somos honestos, tenemos que admitir que Jesús no es el héroe que esperamos. Es humilde, dócil, y relaciona con todos los malos. Si lo comparamos con el Hulk, no es mucho, y aun si lo ponemos al lado del gobernador de California, no nos parece mucho.

Pero no importa cómo nos parece, Jesús gana. El dócil, el humilde gana y su luz brilla por la oscuridad. Este humilde carpintero conquista la muerte. La sangre de este hombre es más fuerte que cualquier dictador, cualquier criminal, cualquier obsesión, cualquier adicción. La fuerza del hijo crucificado es más fuerte de toda oscuridad.

La pega es que tenemos que blandir este poder. Cristo hizo el trabajo de redención. Lucho contra el maldad, y cerró la puerta a la muerte—todas estas cosas son verdaderas. Pero para que el amor y la compasión, la luz y la esperanza conquistan a los problemas de este mundo, tenemos que llamara al nombre de Cristo vivo, tenemos que renunciar al pecado, tenemos que pedir la unción del Espíritu Santo, y tenemos que permitir la luz de Cristo, que brilla de nosotros, que penetre las tinieblas. El poder de Cristo es tremendo, y tenemos que utilizarlo, tenemos que compartirlo para que la oscuridad no permanezca.

Piénsalo así: imagínate la capilla bien oscuro. Oscurísimo. Y después enciende una vela—comparte luz, tiene una sombrita, y con su luz, podemos ver algunos de los detalles. Y mientras mas y mas gente comparten la luz, y otros invitan a Cristo a su vida, crece la luz—podemos ver con más claridad, podemos ver colores, como los colores son un reflejo de la luz. Para que la luz crezca, para que la luz brille suficiente para eliminar la oscuridad, tenemos que compartirla.

Yo se que el lenguaje de oscuridad nos incomoda a algunos. Y decir que hay gente en la oscuridad, aun más. Queremos que el poder de Dios, la luz y el amor de Dios se enfrenten con todo mal. Queremos saber que Dios esta con todos aun en la oscuridad mas fuerte antes de que se comprometan a Cristo. Y, de muchas maneras, Dios está con ellos, por su gracia preveniente, y por su presencia encarnada en el mundo. Pero también sabemos que la invitación para que Cristo viva en nuestras vidas cambia algo. Somos renovados, somos perdonados, y podemos descansar en la seguridad de Dios. Podemos ayudar a los necesitados no porque nos beneficie a nosotros, pero porque el amor de Cristo nos empuja a acción de compasión.

Por los de nosotros que crecimos en la iglesia o aun los que han sido cristianos por anos—todas estas cosas son obvias y asumimos que todos conocen el perdón, que todos dan por compasión, que todos descansan en la esperanza y la promesa de Dios. Pero hay gente que todavía no conoce a la luz. Hay gente tan cargados con ira, dolor, resentimiento, y miedo que la oscuridad les consume y no saben de donde vendrá la esperanza.

Pero nosotros sí sabemos. Sabemos que la esperanza viene de este niño, nacido en una cuadra, que crece para colgar de una cruz. Sabemos que tenemos esperanza porque Cristo conquisto la muerte y venció la oscuridad. Tenemos la promesa que los problemas de este mundo pueden ser vencidos. Pero los problemas del mundo no serán vencidos si nosotros nos sentamos y no hacemos nada. Los problemas de este mundo solo serán vencidos si clamamos a Cristo, actuamos con su amor, damos de bondad a los necesitados, perdonamos a nuestros enemigos, pedimos sanidad por las heridas, y compartimos la luz. Tenemos que ser las manos y los pies en este mundo. Tenemos que ser los agentes de Dios que hacen una diferencia y no esperarle a otro que la haga. Cristo ya hizo el primer paso, Cristo ya lo hizo posible, y tenemos que usar el poder que nos dio en el bautismo para brillar en este mundo. Que conquistemos la oscuridad. Que la luz de Cristo brille para siempre. Que el mundo sepa que hay esperanza. Que nos acordemos nosotros, en los tiempos de oscuridad, que Cristo es la luz y en el no hay oscuridad y con él se puede eliminar la oscuridad a nuestro alrededor. Amen.

John 12:44-46 Craving Hope

Most of the time we crave hope. We crave promise. We need to know that things are going to turn out alright. We need to know that wars will cease, marriages will be reconciled, kids will grow out of back talk, illnesses will be healed, and jobs will be found. We need to know there is something more than trial, strife, discord, and anger. There has to be something more.

So often we look around our world and list our concerns—for unethical business men and women, for corrupt politicians, for warn torn countries, for refuges with no place to go, for orphans, for those living with AIDS/HIV, for those with cancer, for those who can’t get education, health care, or even potable water, for victims of abuse and violence. The list can go on and on and on. Our time of prayer begins to weigh on us because of the greatness of the world’s problems. The greatness of our own problems. We need hope. We need something to hold onto so that things don’t become too dark, too bleak, too dismal.

I think most of us have experienced that darkness—depression, isolation, no one to turn to, grief, loss of a job, lack of health care, illness, pain, broken friendships, betrayal, divorce, rejection. In one form or fashion the darkness has threatened to take us over, to consume us. For some it was only a few short hours, for others the long dark night that threatened never to dawn, for others a pain so great it took our breath away, maybe even our will to live.

It’s at those times that we long for some great rescue operation. We need the soldiers of hope to sweep in and take us away. We long for the man in red and blue to fly in and scoop us up and whisk us away to a peaceful serene getaway. Our heart beckons for the knight in shining armor to come and fight the dark lord.

It is in these times of darkness that our heart cries out in the words of the Psalmist and says, “How long O Lord?” And the amazing thing is that God hears our cry. God responds, “not long my child, for I am with you.” God sweeps in to conquer the darkness.

John 12:44-46 says, “Then Jesus cried out, “When a man believes in me, he does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. 45 When he looks at me, he sees the one who sent me. I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”

Jesus Christ is the light. He shines brightly through even the gravest of circumstances. Even when the darkness is over-bearing, his light is ready to illuminate us. And even a little bit of light makes a big difference.

Now, the trouble is that all too often we’re expecting a superhero. We want someone to charge in on a horse or fly in with superhuman strength and set all things right in that instant. And I think, in many ways, that’s what the 1^st century Israelites hoped for too—they wanted a Goliath of their own to conquer the Romans and illuminate the promised land. And really, it seems that if God can set the world in motion, and orchestrate ice ages and heat waves, and dream up everything from dinosaurs to dragonflies, certainly God can come up with a good strong leader to set things right, right?!

But that’s not what God did. God’s the type that seems to enjoy catching us off-guard. You’ve got to expect the unexpected with God. Instead of a big strong giant ready to conquer the world, God sends an infant. Rather than a shrewd leader with powerful connections, God sends a humble servant. Instead of a flying man with superhuman strength, God sends someone to hang on a cross. If we’re honest, most of us have to admit that Jesus isn’t exactly the hero we expect. He’s humble, meek and associates with all the wrong people. Compared to the Hulk, he’s not much, heck, if we put him next to our governor, many of us would place our bets on the governor!

And yet, he wins. The meek humble one wins and his light shines through. This humble carpenter conquered death. The blood of this man proves mightier than any dictator, any criminal master-mind, any obsession, any addiction. The strength of the crucified son overpowers any and all darkness.

The catch is, we have to wield this power. Christ did the work of redemption, he fought the battle against evil, he closed the door on death—all of those things are true, but in order for love and compassion, light and hope to take over the ills of this world, we, we must call on the name of the risen Christ, we must renounce our sins, we must ask for the anointing of the Holy Spirit, and we must allow Christ’s light, which shines in us, to break through the darkness. Christ’s power is tremendous, but we have to use it, we have to share it so that the darkness does not persist.

Think of it this way: Imagine the sanctuary were completely dark. Pitch black. And then one candle is lit—it shares light, it casts a shadow, and with its light, we can even begin to see some detail. Now, each of us has a candle of our own, but it remains unlit until we ask Christ to live in us, to shine in our hearts. And when we do, Christ lights our candle and we too begin to share light, to show details. And as more and more people share the light and others invite Christ in, the light grows—we can see more clearly, colors reappear, as color is a reflection of light. For the light to grow, for the light to be strong enough to overcome darkness, we must share it.

I know language of darkness makes some of us uneasy. And to say that there are people living in darkness can be even more uncomfortable. We want God’s power, light, and love to prevail against all. We want to know that God is with all people even in the most profound darkness before they make a commitment to Christ. And, in many ways, God is with those people, through prevenient grace, through God’s incarnate presence in this world. But we also know that the invitation to have Christ live in our lives makes a difference. We are renewed, we are forgiven, we can rest in God’s assurance, we can reach out and care for those in need not because it will benefit us, but because through Christ we are moved to compassionate action. For those of us that are life-long Christians, or even those of us that have been Christians for years—all of those things become obvious and we assume that everyone knows what true forgiveness is, we assume that all people are drawn into compassionate giving, we assume that all people rest easy in the hope and promise of the Triune God. But there are people that do not yet know the light. There are people so burdened with anger, hurt, resentment, and fear that they are overpowered by darkness and have no idea where hope will be. But we know. We know that hope comes through the unlikely infant, born in a stable, who grew up and hung from a cross. We know that we can have hope because Christ conquered death, and conquered darkness. We have the promise that the ills of this world can be overcome. But the problems of our world will not be overcome if we sit idly by. The problems of this world will only be overcome if we call on the name of Christ, act with his love, give generously to those in need, forgive our own enemies, ask for healing of our wounds, and share the light. We must be Christ’s hands and feet in this world. We must be God’s agents who do something to make a difference instead of waiting for someone else to take the initiative. Christ already took the first step, Christ already made these things possible, and we have to use the power bestowed on us through our baptism to go out and shine in this world. May we overcome the darkness. May Christ’s light shine brightly. May the world know that there is hope. May each of us remember, during those times of darkness, that Christ is the light of the world and in him there is no darkness at all, and with him we can eliminate the darkness around us. Amen.

1 Corinthians 11:23-26 (Maundy Thursday)

My maternal grandmother is a great cook. I remember driving 5 hours from Bishop to San Gabriel and then sharing a big ham dinner with scalloped potatoes, pineapple, bread, and dessert. There was comfort in those meals, and love. Like women around the world, my grandmother shows love through food. Through her hours in the kitchen she offered herself in service and love to us. And now, whenever I eat ham and scalloped potatoes, I am reminded of her—but not just some memory lodged somewhere in the file cabinet of my mind, but drawn into her person—her smile, the wrinkles of her hands, her French twist hair style, her smell, the furnishings and details of her home. Those simple bites of food draw me into years of history and memories. They renew in me the love and affection I have for her.

I imagine most, if not all, of us have someone we associate with special foods or drinks—an ice cold coke, chocolate chip cookies, fresh green beans off the vine, eggs and bacon…for each of us it is different. Yesterday, at Eva Brown’s funeral, we received copies of her German chocolate cake recipe and almond rocca. Those are her trademark foods—the ones that prompt each member of her family to remember her with fondness and affection and to call forth their many memories of her.

I’m hopeful you can see where I’m going with this—bread and fruit of the vine are Jesus’ trademark foods. The ones where with a simple bite of bread and a sip of juice we remember, we call forth, our memories of him—both from that night in the upper room, but also the many other stories and moments. Listening to his teachings—“Blessed are the poor in spirit for they shall inherit the kingdom of heaven…” “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you…” “Love the lord your God with all your heart, mind, strength, and spirit.” We remember our astonishment at his miracles—the exorcism of the legion of demons, restoring sight to the blind man, raising Lazarus from the dead. We remember meals shared together—loaves and fishes on the Sea of Galilee, a ladle of water from a well in Samaria, and bread and wine shared in an upstairs room in Jerusalem.

Communion takes us to the moment of Jesus’ meal with the disciples. We are drawn to the upper room of the 1^st century, and in turn, we draw it near to us. In Greek, the word anamnesis is the word for remembrance. Its meaning is rich and full. It isn’t simply remembering the words to the pledge of allegiance, or remembering our shopping list, its meaning includes a transportation of the mind—a re-living of the moment. It’s sort of akin to nostalgia—being drawn back into the moment, or calling forth the moment into the present. The Lord ’s Supper, the Eucharist, holy communion, is a stimulus of remembrance—it’s the keepsake, the photograph, the memento we use to remember.

Much like ham and scalloped potatoes remind me of my grandmother, as we eat and drink during Holy Communion, we remember the fullness of the person of Christ, the details, the character traits, the moments shared together, and we remember, too, the love and affection we have for him. We remember the many ways he has cared for us, healed us, forgiven us, and poured himself out into our lives.

We also acknowledge that the Lord’s Supper represents something bigger than a meal shared together—it is the symbol of Christ’s offering on the cross—his humble gift of redemption and salvation from sin, darkness, and death. So, as we eat and drink, we remember not only the tangible moments that are important to us, but we also remember the intangible, the spiritual—we call forth a remembering of forgiveness, of restoration, of healing, of wholeness. By participating in this Holy meal we are once again drawn into the miracle of the cross—the newness of life, the transformation of self, the wiping away of sin. We call on the memories of our conversion, of acceptance of what Christ has done for us, of our profession of faith: “I believe in God the Father Almighty creator of heaven and earth. I believe in Jesus Christ his only son, our Lord…” Christ’s saving act is made alive, real, and present by our remembering—our anamnesis—our calling forth of the power of the blood.

This day, as we receive the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ—let us truly remember, let us call forth, let us be filled with moments and memories of our relationship with Christ. Do this in remembrance of him. Take and eat. Do this in remembrance of him. Take and drink, do this in remembrance of him.

Mateo 21:1-11 Entrada Triunfal monologo

Viene el Mesias? En serio? No te creo. No jugues conmigo. Yo tengo que hacer mis deberes. El mesias, en serio? Hombre, esto seria increíble! Sabes? Nos podria guiar y podria conquistar a los Romanos. Tendriamos nuestra tierra, nuestros templos, ya irían los recaudores, podríamos vivir por nuestras reglas, las leyes que nos dio Dios!

Hombre, no lo puedo creer. El mesias, ya esta aquí, tan cerca que lo podremos tocar. Esta aquí! Esta aquí. El escogido de Dios, el decendente de David, esta aqui! Esta aquí para ayudar. Va a mejorar las cosas—la corrumpcion, las mentiras, los escándalos, el fraude, ya cesara todo. ¡Gloria a Dios! Es hora de celebración! Vamos a hacerle sentir bien, vamos a darle la bienvenida! Corrale, busca las palmas. Vamos a ponerle un banquete, lo mejor de lo mejor. Mejor vino. Mejor comida. Mejor ropa. Este es el hombre! Es el que hemos esperado!

No lo puedo creer. Hemos esperado tanto. Mis padres, y los suyos, y los suyos, y los suyos…catorce generaciones…han sufrido, han endurecido, han sido maltratados y marginalizados, y esperabamos, esperábamos al Mesías, y ahora, por fin, esta aquí!

Es extraño, sabes? Digo, no quiero ser cínica, pero Dios ha quedado en silencio por estos anos. El sufrimiento, los romanos, los recaudadores, los que nos oprimen. Yo se que no debo decir esto, pero es como si Dios se haya olvidado de nosotros. Aun me pregunto si somos los escogidos de Dios. O sea, no me siento tan escogida cuando viene el recaudador de impuestos y se burlan de nuestros costumbres. Yo se que es malo, pero a veces, no se, la duda me gana cuando no oigo, ni veo, ni siento la s acciones de Dios.

Yo se que nos han ensenado del Mesias, el ungido, pero nadie sabía si vendría. (Pause) Quizás debo ser mas como Job—mas fe, menos duda, todo aquello, pero, asi soy yo. (Shrug).

(Pause, surprise) Dios mio! Mira! Alli esta! Esta aqui! Lo crees? El mesias! Esta aqui!

Hosanna!

Hosanna al hijo de David!

Hosanna!

(Es el, lo crees?!?!)

Hosanna!

Bendito sea el que viene en el nombre del Señor!

(Es incredible! Esta aqui! Esta aqui de verdad! El mesias! Esta aqui!)

Hosanna!

Hosanna en lo alto!

No puedo creer que estuve aquí el día que vino el Mesías! Mi abuelita hubiera dado su pierna izquierda para conocerle!

Esto es tan increíble!

Gloria a Dios! Hosanna! Hosanna! Gloria a Dios!