3-17-19 “Preparing A Table”

3-17-19 Sermon  “Preparing A Table”

   One of my earliest memories of the kitchen in the house I grew up in was that it included a large, round, dark-stained oak table on a wood pedestal. 

I don’t remember how many chairs were around it, but I remember that it could expand with a leaf, but that the only time that was ever used was when we had guests. Otherwise, it was a circle. And I remember that so well because the first time I sprained my ankle as a kid was while chasing my sister - or was she chasing me? - around that table, round and round, when I tripped - I blame it on her - and I fell and sprained my ankle. 

I said it was an early memory - not necessarily a pleasant one.

   As a kid it was common for one of us to have a friend over for dinner, or to be invited to a friend’s house for dinner. At least once a week I would be invited for dinner to either my friend Mike’s or my friend Steve’s house. And likewise, one of them was at my house for dinner about as often. It was the same with my younger sister and her friends - although she didn’t eat away nearly as often as I hoped she would!

   And there were other guests as well. Friends of my parents, friends from church, the pastor and his wife and kids - it was not uncommon for some combination of those folks to be at dinner with us at least once a week. And often, we had fried chicken. That was one of Mom’s go-to meals. I had a lot of fried chicken as a kid. So much in fact, that after I left home, I went years without eating it because I needed a break. 

   And with Mom’s fried chicken there had to mashed potatoes too, and while Mom made pretty good fried chicken, her mashed potatoes were, well…

They used to be really good, but at some point she stopped making them from real potatoes and starting using those flakes in the box stuff. From then on her potatoes were either the consistency of spackle or runny enough they could be consumed through a straw. There really was no middle ground with them. 

So, if I was going to invite a friend for dinner, it was always good to find out what was on the menu first.

   So, all of that dinner talk aside, while it would be easy to preach an entire series on the 23rd Psalm, spending one week on each phrase, our focus today is primarily on the one line:

 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

   Now, this is not a Holy Communion reference, although it could be used that way, even if it is a pre-Jesus, pre-Last Supper Old Testament passage. 

And it’s not an invitation to the potluck next Sunday, although it could be that as well. No, the Psalmist - presumably David in this case - makes a larger point that is less about us and more about who and how God is. 

   The structure of the psalm is interesting as well. David begins by speaking about God in the third person. “The Lord..” does this, “he” does that, and so forth. But then in the middle, in the line at the very center of the psalm, “Even though I walk through the darkest valley,” (or the “valley of the shadow of death” if you prefer the King James version) the voice changes as David transitions to second person, saying, “you are with me,” “You” do this and “You” do that. David moves from talking about God in the first part to talking to God in the second. One commentator points out that in the original Hebrew, the word “with” is exactly in the middle of this psalm, the same number of words before as after the word “with.” God is with David. God is with us. God’s “withness,” this suggests, is not only at the center of the psalm, but is at the center of who and how God is with us. For David, it’s as though in the middle of this song, God moves from holding a place in David’s head to a dwelling place in his heart.

   In the midst of our often self-imposed busyness, as we face the myriad things we feel compelled to get done - all the things to do, places to go, people to see - this psalm reminds us that the unhurried God is with us whether we realize it or not, in the good times and in the bad, at the very heart or center of our lives. And that that has always been the case, from the beginning.

   God first revealed God’s self to be present with us, to be immanent, in the Creation. The Spirit of God, Genesis tells us, hovered over the waters even before God spoke creation into being. God created everything out of nothing; nothing, that is, except for God’s presence in that hovering Spirit. The God who was present in the primordial waters before Creation is the same God who is present at all times and in all things, all places and all peoples now; the panentheistic God who God is present everywhere and in everything, including in each and every one of us. God is present; God has never NOT been present with us. But because, in part, we either lost track of that, forgot about it, don’t trust it, or don’t want to believe that God is present in people who are different from us, God came to be one with us in Jesus Christ, called Emmanuel in the scripture passages that foretold this human incarnation. We remember that Emmanuel literally means “God with us.” God couldn’t have made the Holy presence any clearer if God had tattooed it on our body. But, do we experience God’s presence primarily in our head, or in our hearts? That’s the question, isn’t it?

   This “withness” of God doesn’t mean, though, that our lives will not have their problems, that there won’t be dark valleys that we must journey through. What it means though, is that whether as individuals, as a church, as a community, nation, or world, we don’t travel life’s hills and valleys alone. We do face challenges - every day. For some the challenges are existential; how will I get by today, where will I find food or medicine or shelter today, how will I live through this day. For others, while perhaps not as dramatic, the challenges are nevertheless just as real:

How will I get to this doctor’s appointment? 

Where will I get the money for my rent, or utilities, or medicine? How will I get my addiction under control, or that of my child? The challenges are real, even as they vary from person to person, from day to day.

   And then we encounter this “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies” line and wonder what we’re to make of that. The Twenty-third Psalm can provide great comfort as we imagine those green pastures and still waters, as we consider a life in which God restores our soul and in which we no longer want for anything. But it also recalls those dark valleys that we’d just as soon avoid or forget, and that maybe even make us doubt or deny the existence of those promised green pastures. And on top of that, and even more challenging, it calls us to the not-so-easy practice of sitting down at the table with our enemies.

   Now, when I hear the word “enemies” my first thought is usually tied to Batman and his arch-enemy “The Joker,” or some other comic book superhero, who almost always has an “arch enemy” of some kind. I guess, in the midst of a sea of enemies, the archenemy is the principle enemy, the main foe. What kind of challenges must one face, existential or otherwise, what kind of world-view, that makes one think of other beloved children of God as “the enemy.” I can’t think of a single person I would consider an enemy. Now, there are people I don’t agree with. And there are people I don’t really like so much, but enemies?

   Nevertheless, regardless of the labels we attach to those who look, speak, pray, love, or vote differently than us - our “thems,” our enemies if you will - the unhurried God of Creation who is present with US in the good times AND in the difficult times, is just as present with THEM, and not inly invites us, but challenges us to be radically present to each other in the same way God is present with us. As much as we might like, we simply can’t just gloss over this line of the psalm. “You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies” deserves some thought. From a Christian perspective, Christ’s table is the place where reconciliation begins and ends. It is where we are invited to share in the body of Christ which is all of Creation. The gospel writer Luke quotes Jesus as saying that when you have a dinner party, don’t invite those who can invite you in return (Luke 14) - invite those who can’t, or won’t. When all that he has worked for seems on the brink of falling apart during his final night, Jesus breaks bread with his disciples - the faithful, the denier, and the betrayer. He models for us that we, too, are to make peace at the table, not just with our friends and pals, but with those with whom relationships are broken or even nonexistent.

   You see, it’s when we’re willing to break bread at Christ’s table, or any table, with our enemies - those we would consider as “them” or “those people;” and we all know who that is for us - that we truly experience the “withness” of God’s love that is offered to us and the Kingdom of Heaven that Jesus invites us into, will be more than a mere hope, it will be an overflowing cup.

   Let’s conclude by reciting together the Psalm - it’s printed in your worship folders:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long. (Ps 23, CEB)

Amen.

3-10-19 - “The Right Tempo”

3-10-19 Sermon - “The Right Tempo”

   I think we all have times when we feel, as Jesus describes in this passage, that we are “weary and carrying heavy burdens.” Sometimes that comes from being busy and just having a lot of things to do or to deal with in a certain space of time, and other times it comes more from the nature of what we have to do, the heaviness of our task, more than the quantity of tasks. This week, coming off of renewal leave, was a busy week in the sense that there were many calls to make, several people to visit, lots of things on my desk to catch up on, a few appointments, and two worship services and messages to prepare. So there was a quantity of things to be done, but nothing that I would call “heavy” or “burdensome.” 

   Now, had someone died this week, within our church family or among my family or friends, had there been some kind of tragedy that occurred like a disaster, a terror attack, a car that drove through our church building, that likely would have made this week “heavy.” Something like that not only brings with it worry, pain, and grief, it comes bearing an added weight, a heaviness that is simply laid over the top of everything else that is already going on. We feel that weight in our bodies, in our minds, and in our souls. And we need support, we need help to bear that kind of burden, or it can break us.

   In the passages leading up to our reading today, Matthew is attempting to help us understand Jesus within the larger Wisdom tradition of Judaism. And God’s Wisdom, in scripture, is almost always referred to as feminine, her or she - to which the women present knowingly nod, thinking, well of course she is. 

In fact, the words Jesus speaks in our reading is taken from the Wisdom Writings of Sirach, that we find, not in our Hebrew Bible or Old Testament texts, but in the section called the Apocrypha, which most Protestant Bibles don’t include unless it’s a study bible. In Sirach 51:26, also sometimes called Ecclesiasticus, not to be confused with the Old Testament book Ecclesiastes, the writer says,

 “Put your neck under her (Wisdom’s) yoke, and let your souls receive instruction; it is to be found close by.”

   So Jesus is speaking to his listeners here, quoting from a Wisdom tradition that is largely lost on modern readers, while using an agricultural metaphor that, in this age of industrialized farming with multi-million dollar equipment harvesting more in a day than a farmer in Jesus’ time would have reaped in their entire life, is also largely lost on us. It’s easy for us to gloss over this passage as so many nice thoughts, or to respond cynically, “yeah, right!” and move on.

   But before we write this passage off as another pretty little saying to embroider onto a throw pillow or wall hanging, let’s explore what Jesus is trying to tell us here. And to do that it helps to understand exactly what the purpose of a yoke is. We often think of a yoke as something that confines us, a tool for labor that restricts us in our movement, our direction. But the purpose of the yoke was actually to train, to teach an inexperienced animal how to do the work of the farm by pairing it, yoking it, to a more experienced beast. By teaming the inexperienced, neophyte beast of burden with the more seasoned partner, the younger could learn how best to bear the weight of the plow together rather than trying to do the work alone - they would bear the burden alongside one another.

   Now, let’s make one thing clear in this image - the use of the word “easy” is a mistranslation. The passage talks about burdens, and by definition burdens are not “easy.” The better translation of that word here, as corrected in various commentaries, is “kind,” “good,” “useful,” or “well-fitting.” As Karoline Lewis offers,

   “To believe in Jesus is not escapism from burdens or struggles or the events in our lives that cause the kind of weariness that might strip us of our very souls. To be a disciple is to be yoked to Jesus.

   “We are yoked to Jesus, whose yoke is kind, good, useful [or well-fitting]. Yes, it is still a symbol of burden, oppression, and hardship. 

But we can’t forget who is pulling the burden with us, with his head through the other oxbow.With that truth in mind, I think this text says more than: you are not alone in your suffering. Although that is also true about this passage, nevertheless I think there is a promise that the load really will feel lighter. True, you are not alone. And therefore whatever burden you bear, you do not bear it alone. There’s the difference. There’s the good news -- realistic, good news we might actually experience."

 (Karoline Lewis, workingpreacher.org)

   So as we consider this passage in our Busy series, we find that each of us has a tempo that fits well for us, that energizes us, and other tempos that are burdensome. We want to explore what tempo gives us life and energy? What tempo feels toxic to us? And what is the cost of not living at a healthy, energizing, and life-giving tempo?

   When Matthew has Jesus quoting Sirach about being yoked to God’s Wisdom, he is yoking the ancient Judaic Wisdom tradition to Matthew’s concept of the Kingdom of Heaven; being in the Kingdom of Heaven is living in, yoking ourselves to the Wisdom of God, which we see in the person of Jesus. The Gospel writer John attempts the same thing but comes at it from a different angle, when he writes, 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” And later, “The Word became flesh.”

   To John, the Word, the logos of God, is the Wisdom of God yoked to, as Richard Rohr translates it, the “blueprint” of God - God’s “plan,” if you will. 

Matthew approaches this from the perspective of traditional Judaism while John’s approach is from what would later become known as a “trinitarian” point of view. Either way, I think we can see that they are suggesting the same idea.

   As followers of Jesus, we willingly “yoke” ourselves to Jesus as Wisdom, as God’s incarnate/enfleshed blueprint for the world - the Kingdom of Heaven, as Matthew refers to it. So what does that mean? It’s not a yoke of simple mental agreement with ideas or doctrines “about” Jesus - it’s not THAT easy. It’s a yoke of cohabitation, if you will. It’s a yoke of partnership, of going in the same direction or the same way, doing the things Jesus explicitly instructs because that’s where the “more experienced” one with which we are yoked in the team is leading us. 

   Theologian Lois Malcolm puts it this way,

“As we take on Jesus’ yoke, we not only become more fully united with Jesus, God’s tangible Wisdom in and for our lives; we also enter more fully in to the intimacy Jesus had with the one he called Father. In this way, Jesus truly is God’s Wisdom for all of us, whose yoke embodies a new way of being in the world, not as a set of standards [or rules] we need to live up to, [or a new set of ideals], but rather as God’s incarnate… presence within our lives.”   (FOTG - Matthew I, page 300)

   In the season of Lent we often think of “giving up” something that we enjoy - chocolate, desserts or the like - in order to “deny ourselves” and somehow let that denial move us closer to God. And that’s not a bad thing, IF that giving up us does in fact, bring us closer to or more in alignment with God, or helps us live life at a more life-giving tempo. Sometimes, as counter-intuitive as it might seem - in order to get the right tempo, we have to take on something that was missing in our life. Not in order to add more busyness, not so as to burden ourselves in a heavy and cumbersome kind of way, but so that we might share the yoke of that burden with the one who knows our life, who knows our pain, and who willingly comes alongside to bear our burdens with us.

   Shelley Best reminds us that,

“Jesus knows our yoke. Through him, we learn how to do our own work - and of the rest that comes when we work with him. Through faith, we are partnered with Jesus and taught how to balance and maneuver what is at hand, with the help of one who is more seasoned in the tasks associated with living. At first, the appeal to take on something more (like spending time in prayer or Bible study or other spiritual disciplines) in order to walk closer to Jesus seems impossible - or at least a step in the wrong direction. Jesus promises that by walking closer to him, our encumbrances will be lessened and we will find repose in the midst of what would otherwise be an onerous and lonely journey.”

   So perhaps the most restful, the most life-giving and burden-sharing thing we can do is to yoke ourselves more closely with Jesus. That is the invitation of this series, that is the hope of spending time daily in our “prayer chair.” 

That is the relief offered by physically writing down the things we can no longer control -   the things that bring us stress, and anger, and pain, and literally handing them over to God by placing them in your own “God box.” 

   In this brief passage that we explored today, “Jesus pairs ‘yoke’ and ‘rest’  - one conjures an image of oxen bound for work and the other invites us into a state of peace for one’s soul. Perhaps we are being challenged to consider that the most fruitful and productive of all labors is precisely that which brings our souls closest to God.” (Erick Olsen, FOTG, page 300)

“Come to me all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest,” Jesus invites. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is [well-fitting,] and my burden is light.”  Amen.

3-6-19 Ash Wednesday - "Busy"

3-6-19 Ash Wednesday Sermon

   So in hearing this passage from Matthew, we should be clear that Matthew is NOT being critical of public worship or public displays of faith. There are times when public prayers, public worship, public acts of faith are not only acceptable, but expected. No, what Matthew is talking about here is not the act, but the intent. He’s not talking about what we do so much as for whom do we do it - who’s our intended audience.

   I heard and shared a story some time ago, and at this point I forget who it was who told me the story except that it was a clergy colleague and it had happened in his church, about a man who made a great show each week about making his offering. When it came time to receive the offering, the man - who sat near the front of the sanctuary each week - waited until the offering plate was coming down his row before he very deliberately removed his checkbook from his jacket pocket, opened the checkbook, took a pen from his pocket, wrote out a check, put the pen back in his pocket, carefully removed the check from the checkbook, replaced the checkbook in his pocket, removed an envelope from the pew, neatly folded the check in half, slipped it into the envelope, licked and sealed the enveloped, and then placed it into the offering plate that the person next to him had been holding for nearly a minute at this point. 

   And, according to my colleague, it wasn’t like the guy was writing particularly large checks to the church, he was not a BIG giver in the church. But he made a big show ABOUT his giving and the frequency of his giving. Now I ask you, do you think this display was about his relationship to God or about how he wanted to be seen by those in the church?

   Matthew’s point here is not a criticism of public displays of faith - if that football player is sincerely thanking God for his athletic gifts when he scores that touchdown and points skyward in the end zone, then good for him -  it’s about what is our intent in the display, and is this really who and how we are, or are we trying to portray ourselves in such a way that presents a false image or makes a false impression.

“Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don’t make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won’t be applauding”

   Jesus was often critical of the Pharisees because he considered them hypocrites. The Greek root of the word “hypocrite” means “stage actor.” 

So, when Jesus criticized the Pharisees for “liking to be seen in their long robes, and for taking the best seats in the synagogue,” he was neither criticizing their wearing of robes nor of their being present in worship - he was criticizing their intent, their reason for doing what they were doing. He’s not critical of worship, or prayer, or giving - he’s challenging us to make sure that our heart is in the right place when we say we’re serving God, and that we are, in fact, serving God and not our own ego.

“Here’s what I want you to do:” Matthew says, “Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense God’s grace.”

   Sometimes in our lives, though, we just go through the motions don’t we? Sometimes we don’t always give our best effort - we, as the saying goes - “phone it in.” Sometimes that comes as a result of apathy, sometimes it’s a response born out of anger, or humiliation, or embarrassment. Sometimes the “less-than-our-best” comes from tiredness, exhaustion - physical, emotional, or even spiritual exhaustion. 

   My golf game is terrible if I don’t practice or play regularly. My singing voice is uneven, scratchy, and pitchy if I don’t both warm up properly and care for my throat, watching what I eat or drink before I sing. My faith gets perfunctory, routine, even tired, if I don’t make the time to develop it and grow it and care for it. That’s kind of where I had gotten before I went on leave. My prayer had become automatic - I could recite the words of my go-to “daily prayer” while thinking about something else entirely. My scripture reading, as I shared with you, had been reduced to the purpose of sermon writing only, and not in order to grow in my faith. All other spiritual disciplines I had tried were done in a half-hearted way. Some weeks, if I’m totally honest, I think I was here more because I had to be than because I wanted to be. The voice of God’s calling in my life had become so drowned out, in some ways, that I could barely hear it anymore. My faith had become as tired as both my spirit and my body.

   By taking renewal leave I was able to, as Matthew wrote,  

“Find a quiet, secluded place so [I wouldn’t] be tempted to role-play before God.” Or before you for that matter.

   That secluded place was in my home - in my bedroom or the couch when vertigo hit me on day one, and then in my basement as I literally put my hands on every book I owned there, sorting what I thought appropriate for the church library and what I needed to keep for myself. Eventually that space expanded to the newly cleared and created nook that I had made for myself there. 

There, in a comfortable chair, surrounded by my books and my music, where pictures of family and friends adorn the shelves, and where reminders of my youth, my college days, and my love of both history and golf, invite and encourage me to just be me before God. 

   But the basement wasn’t the only space that I needed to clear in order to be real before God. There was some headspace that needed a purging as well. 

When I was flat on my back, or when I could only walk while holding on to something or someone, reminders of my dependency on God and on others, especially Lynn, came roaring back in the most humbling of ways. 

I couldn’t read for long or everything began spinning. 

I couldn’t watch TV for long for the same reason. 

If I turned my head too quickly, everything spun. 

If I moved my body too quickly, I risked falling. 

All I could do was exist for a while, and sleep, and as Matthew suggested, I could just “be there as simply and honestly as [I could] manage.” 

And as he said, in time,  “The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense God’s grace.”

   And that is what began to happen for me. 

So in this series my hope is that you will accept God’s invitation to simply be there, with God, “as simply and honestly as you can manage.” Each week we’ll look at different passages of scripture that invite or encourage us to slow down, to let go of something, to ease into a daily time of allowing ourselves to be aware of the presence of God’s grace in our lives. We have to lose the idea that our busyness somehow makes us worthy of God’s respect, or anyone’s respect for that matter. If you give up anything for Lent, give up that idea that God’s love, or your worth before God can be earned. Your worth to God was established well before you were born. Regardless of how you identify yourself - father, mother, spouse, brother, sister, pastor, retiree, whatever - first and foremost you are a beloved child of God, and nobody anywhere can ever take that away from you. 

   Ash Wednesday begins the “40 Day” season of Lent. Lent is a period in which we are called to focus on reconnecting with the God who, while we are sometimes too busy for God, is never too busy for us. There are different ways to do that, but sometimes the best way is simply to sit in our prayer chair and think about it. Some people feel uncomfortable with prayer because they think there is a right way or a wrong way to do it, that if we don’t do it just right, say just the perfect words, God won’t hear us. Rest assured, if you plant your butt in the seat with the intent to talk to God, God WILL be all ears. More than anything, God wants relationship. It’s not about what you say - or even if you SAY anything at all - it’s about making yourself available, being present to God. 

Whether that time is spent trying to put words to a prayer, or whether it’s just reading a brief or favorite scripture and thinking about it, whether it’s reading a poem or psalm or hymn or other inspirational writing and reflecting on how you sense God in that - you’re praying! You’re connecting! And if on the first day you only last five minutes, well great! That’s five minutes more than you spent with God the day before, right? 

   Oftentimes, we get so busy doing the urgent things that we forego the important things. The urgent things are like the ringing phone, the boiling pot, or the clanging of the doorbell - they require immediate attention, even though the phone call is likely just a telemarketer and the doorbell is probably someone trying to sell you new windows for your house! They’re urgent - they scream for your attention - but they’re not important. The time you spend reconnecting - with God, with your faith, with your family - that’s important. Ash Wednesday reminds us, very graphically so, that our time on this earth is short - from dust we came and to dust we will return. The mark of the cross, as rough and uneven as it is when placed on our foreheads and made from the ashes of burned palm leaves, is a sign for all to see, but more importantly a sign for us to see when we look at ourselves, our true selves, in the mirror. This, this image, this is who we really are. It’s not a call to repentance in order to gain salvation for the next life - it’s a call to repent, to turn around THIS life, to go in a new direction and to live the wholehearted life that God so desires for you to live, if you’ll just spend time with God in order to figure out what that looks like for YOU at this stage in your life. And before you say it, or even think it, NO, you’re not too old to begin to live a new and newly connected life in God’s grace. You’re never too old, it’s never too late. 

   What we have to do is described so succinctly in our scripture today.

“Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense God’s grace.”

   It’s not a one time event, rather, it’s a process. 

Give it the time it takes, grow the time you give, open yourself to the love and grace of God in your life, and you will be the love and grace of God in the lives of others. Amen. 

3-3-19 "We Are Not THAT Church!" - A Response to General Conference 2019

(Note - some of the content in the text version of this sermon is not found in the audio recording, as that content was shared separately in our worship service on 3-3-19. )

3-3-19 "We Are Not THAT Church!" - A Response to General Conference 2019

   

This story is told in the three synoptics gospels - Matthew, Mark, and Luke - nearly word for word, but not in exactly the same way. As I read and contemplated this passage in a lectio divina kind of way, there were some phrases and images that stood out for me. The first was the phrase “a very high mountain.” In several places in the Gospels we read that Jesus “went up a mountain,” but in Mathew the point is made that this is a “very high mountain.” So, this is not your run-of-the-mill mountain - this mountain is special. It’s very high. Mountains were thought to be, by the various religions commonly found in the middle east at this time, the homes of the gods - plural. So, the idea that this mountain was a very high mountain would have made it home to a very great god. I Googled, as I do, mountains in Israel, and found that the highest mountain in modern Israel’s controlled territories is Mt. Hermon, which is technically in southwestern Syria but descends into the Israeli-controlled Golan Heights. Mt. Hermon peaks at a bit over 7,000 ft above sea level.

   Within the boundaries of Israel, the highest peaks, 

and there are a few, are in the 3,000-4,000 ft elevation levels. Now that’s tall, but that’s not Rocky Mountain tall. Mt. Ranier, in Washington state comes in at a stately 14,410 feet tall, and Mt. Everest, arguably the highest mountain in the world tops out at 29,035 feet. 

   But in learning this, I also found that mountain elevation measurements are subject to variables. Mt. Everest is the highest mountain, but is not the tallest.

For example, if the measurement is taken as an elevation above sea level, then Mt. Everest is the highest.  The height of a mountain is taken from sea level. 

   But if the measurement is taken from the base of the mountain to the peak, regardless of sea level, then we’re talking about the tallest mountain, and that honor belongs to Mauna Kea, an inactive volcano on the island of Hawaii. Measured from it’s base under the Pacific Ocean, it extends 33,465 feet. So, if they were standing side by side, Mauna Kea would be 4,436 feet taller. 

   But wait, there’s more in this theological geology lesson. The other way that mountains are measured is the distance from the mountain’s peak to the center of the earth - all the way to the core. And that matters because, while the earth looks like a perfectly round ball or sphere, it isn’t. The planet flattens out at the poles and bulges near the equator. So with that in mind, when measured from the center of the earth, Mount Chimborazo, a volcano in Ecuador, almost directly on the equator, actually extends two miles farther from the center of the earth than does Everest, even as Everest is over 8,500 feet higher when measured from sea level. 

And all of this just goes to show that truth depends on your perspective, and there are different ways to look at things. However you look at it, though, those are some very high mountains.

   But as the saying goes, “It’s not the size of the mountain that counts…it’s what happens on the mountain.” That’s a saying, right? All of the scripture passages telling this story agree that up on this very high mountain, Jesus was transformed. He was transfigured, his appearance changed, at least for a moment. How long? We don’t know - it doesn’t say. Whether it was seconds, minutes, or hours we don’t know, but we do know it was long enough for the three disciples to take notice, and at least according to Mark’s gospel, for them to become frightened. Matthew and Luke don’t record the disciples’ fear, but Mark does. And they all say that this transformation took place in such a way that Jesus’ face “shone like the sun,” and his clothing became “bright white.” 

Now, the passage doesn’t say what caused this shining, this brightness, this light that was emanating from Jesus, but I suspect, being on this very high mountain and knowing that, at least according to the Exodus narrative, God liked mountains, that Jesus was experiencing and reflecting the Glory of God. Remember, back in our Advent series about Silent Night, we talked about “Glories streaming from heaven afar” and made note that that passage was indicating a shining light? I think that’s what Jesus is experiencing here, what the three disciples are witnessing here - the Glory of God reflected in and emanating from Jesus! 

   And the passage tells us that in this light, in this brightness, in this illumination, the disciples could see Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah - symbolic, representatives of the Law and the Prophets, right? In this light, they can see this. They didn’t see it before Jesus was transformed - Jesus didn’t tell them on the way up the mountain that they were going to meet somebody or see something special - it happens in the brightness of the light that emanates from Jesus. And Peter responds to this vision that they share by proclaiming, “Lord, it’s good that we’re here!” 

Say that with me, will you? 

“Lord, it’s good that we’re here!”

   I’ve shared with you before that at night, when I’m ready to sleep, I like it to be completely dark - totally black or as close to that as I can get. Well, at the other end of that spectrum, when I want to read I wants lots of light. Lynn can read in less than ordinary light levels, but not me. I recently replaced the 3-way bulb in the lamp next to my favorite reading spot, from a 50-100-150 watt bulb, to a 150-300-350 watt bulb! And wow! Can I see to read now! In fact, I feel like I ought to turn every 15-20 minutes in order to avoid sunburn from this reading lamp. I like the bright light because it makes it easier to see the words on the page, it makes the colors in pictures pop more, it makes it easier to find things I drop on the floor. The brighter light just makes it easier to see what I otherwise might miss. The heavenly light shining on this mountain enables the disciples to see, not only the presence of Moses and Elijah, but it also allows them to see Jesus in a whole new way. It’s no wonder Peter exclaimed, “Lord, it’s good that we’re here!”

   And it’s as Peter is making this confession, that Matthew tells us that a “bright cloud overshadowed them.” Now, the other gospel writers just call it a cloud, Matthew alone describes it as a “bright” cloud. And truly, what other kind of cloud would we expect God to be in, certainly not a dark cloud. And a voice comes from within this cloud that surrounds and envelopes them says, “This is my son, whom I dearly love. I am very pleased with him. Listen to him!” And if those words sound familiar to you, it’s because God spoke nearly the same words at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, when he was baptized, rose up out of the water as the Holy Spirit descended on him like a dove, and a voice was heard from above saying, “This is my son whom I dearly love; I find happiness with him.” And upon hearing this admonition from God for the three disciples to listen to Jesus, it says they fell on their faces to the ground in awe. The God who sent angels to announce the coming birth of the Son - saying to Mary and Joseph, to Zechariah, and to the shepherds, “Do not be afraid” - the God who was present at Jesus’ baptism and claimed him as God’s own, now returns in a bright cloud and reaffirms him. In front of his three most trusted disciples and again, God confirms Jesus’ worth and worthiness as a child of God and tells these most dedicated of followers to “Listen to him!” 

   “Lord, it’s good that we’re here!”

   And it is then that Jesus reaches out and touches them, his appearance having returned to normal, and he says to them, “Get up,” and “Do not be afraid.”

   So my personal reflection on this scripture, my own personal lectio divina approach to this scripture lifted up these things, these images and ideas to me:

• it was a very high mountain
• transformation took place
• Jesus shone like the sun
• Peter’s proclamation, “Lord, it’s good that we’re here”
• a “bright” cloud overshadowed them
• and Jesus told them to “Get up,” and “do not be afraid.”

   And as I thought about these things, in the afterglow, if you want to call it that, of our United Methodist General Conference this week, there were some other thoughts that came to me, many of which were not fit for a sermon, but many that were. I didn’t attend conference in person, as April did, I watched a good deal of the live stream and followed along on some social media sites that tried to help explain what was going on and described some of the things that were happening in the arena that were not seen on camera. And what we witnessed was, to say the least, not what I would call an enlightened or transformative mountain top experience. 

   Now, for those of you who don’t know, who haven’t been United Methodist for very long, or who just don’t get the politics or structure of the church, here’s a quick primer. The General Conference is the main body of the United Methodist Church. The UMC has no president or executive that oversees or runs the church. While we have Bishops - the Episcopacy - who oversee geographic areas called Annual Conferences or Central Conferences and head our various agencies - they do not make church law or church policy, that is done by the General Conference which meets every four years. The General Conference that was held in St. Louis this last week was a special general conference, called specifically to deal with the single issue of human sexuality as it pertains to life in the United Methodist Church. It is this body of delegates, elected from the various annual conferences and central conferences around the world, who gather to write church law and polity - what we call our Book of Discipline. 

   Now, lest you think that the “UNITED” in United Methodist Church means that we are of one mind on everything, or anything for that matter, you should know that “United” is part of our name as a result of the merger, in 1968, of the two separate denominations that formed the UMC, the then Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren, or EUB church. But what’s in a name, right? Human sexuality has been a divisive issue in the United Methodist Church ever since 1972, four years after the church was formed, when language was inserted into the Book of Discipline by conservative delegates, stating that “Homosexuality is not compatible with Christian teaching.” 

   And every year in Annual Conferences around the country, and every four years in General Conferences, the conservative delegates and the progressive delegates have fought over this language and its ramifications for life in the individual churches and for our clergy. And as we have struggled, the divide between the two sides has only grown deeper and wider. By the 2016 General Conference in Portland, OR, the chasm had grown so deep and so wide, that it threatened the survival of the entire denomination. So, in order to avoid a schism, the 2016 General Conference asked the Council of Bishops, who have no power to make church law and who do not even have a vote in General Conference, to step in and help us find a way forward as a church. And so they did. 

   They formed what became known as the Commission on the Way Forward, made up of conservatives and liberals, men and women, gays and straights, clergy and laity, black, white and brown, from around the world, to come up with a plan to present to a specially called General Conference in 2019 - one year before the next regularly scheduled General Conference in 2020. 

That is what took place this past week.

   The Commission on the Way Forward took two years to listen, to learn, and to explore how we can move forward as a denomination with very diverse and disparate viewpoints on the subject of human sexuality in general, and the role of LGBTQ folks in ministry and the life of the church in particular. The Commission on the Way Forward brought plans to the Council of Bishops for review, and as is our polity, other groups were allowed to put forward plans to General Conference as well. 

   The most progressive of the plans considered, what was called the Simple Plan, simply removed all of the language about homosexuality that had been inserted over the years since 1972. Another plan, the Connectional Conference Plan, would have kept the church together as a loose confederation of connected churches and conferences who believed different things and that would have required churches, clergy, annual conferences, and other groups to vote as to how they wanted to be connected. The most conservative plan, called the Traditional Plan, actually went the other way and doubled down on penalties for churches and clergy who allowed same-sex marriages, who performed same sex marriages, who were in fact LGBTQ, or who would not sign what amounted to “loyalty oaths.” 

   The plan that the Council of Bishops ultimately endorsed was called the “One Church Plan,” named as such because it allowed churches, clergy, and annual conferences to decide for themselves how they wanted to deal with issues of same sex marriage etc., while not forcing any one way of thinking or acting on anyone and maintaining our current connectional structure that makes us uniquely, the United Methodist Church. It allowed us to stay connected as one church, while recognizing and honoring the cultural differences that exist between not only countries, but also within regions, areas, states, and even within annual conferences and districts. 

   And while the Commission on the Way Forward was doing its work in good faith, the Wesley Covenant Association, a group of ultra conservative UMC churches supporting the Traditional Plan, 

was working behind the scenes to prepare to leave the denomination if they didn’t get their way on this vote at General Conference. And perhaps, even if they did.

   In the end, as you have no doubt heard or read in the news, it was the conservative Traditional Plan, that was passed by the General Conference, of which 43% of the delegates come from Africa, the Philippines, and other conservative countries where homosexuality is often illegal and punishable by death. The final votes was approximately 53% in favor and 47% against. 

   Even with those results, however, news of the death of the United Methodist Church is, I believe, premature. Why do I say that? Well for a couple of reasons:

   First - much of the Traditional Plan, as it passed, had already been ruled as unconstitutional by the standards of our own United Methodist Constitution by our Judicial Council, the denomination’s equivalent of the Supreme Court. While some unconstitutional parts of the plan were amended during General Conference after that ruling was received, the vast majority of it was not changed. The Judicial Council will meet in April and will review everything that was passed by General Conference, and anything that they deem to be unconstitutional will simply be cast aside and not become church law. We’ll know more of what that will look like in April, but the expectation among many is that much of what is contained in the Traditional Plan as it passed will not, in the end, become church law, at least night right now. 

   Second - One of the pieces of legislation that did pass the conference was an exit plan for churches that desire to leave the denomination. As our Book of Discipline currently stands, if a church decides to leave the UMC, they’re free to go but they cannot take their building and property - those are owned in trust with the annual conferences. The exit plan that was passed would provide for a temporary lifting of this “trust clause” so that churches that no longer desired to be part of the denomination could leave and take their buildings, on the condition of payment of a certain amount of reparations, past due apportionments, and things like that. It is believed that that is really what the Wesley Covenant Association was after - a way to leave, either soon or after the 2020 General Conference - rather than a way to stay together as one church. We’ll see how that plays out, likely beginning after the rulings by the Judicial Council.

   So, while some things have changed, and the UMC is currently a top story in the news cycle, the story isn’t over yet. What hasn’t changed is OUR call as Crossroads United Methodist, to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world, by feeding ALL God’s children - body, mind, and soul. That is who WE are as the United Methodist Church. We are not THAT United Methodist Church, which seeks to judge others, as though our poo doesn’t stink. We are not the church that climbs a very high mountain, supposedly to draw closer to God, only to cast stones on those we perceive to be beneath us. We are a church who loves God, who loves one another, who loves our neighbors - ALL of our neighbors - because we know that ALL are beloved children of God. 

“Lord, it’s good that we’re HERE!” Amen?

   We are NOT the church that seeks transformation in everyone else, seeing the speck in their eye, while blindly ignoring the log of self-denial planted firmly in our own! No, this is the church that loves its neighbors, that feeds its neighbors, that welcomes its neighbors - ALL of its neighbors, because that’s the only kind of church that reflects the body of the transformed Christ, the resurrected Christ, the living Christ!

“Lord, it’s good that we’re HERE!”

   No, it is NOT our call, our mission, our vision, to allow ourselves to be overshadowed by the dark cloud of hate, judgment, and fear that settled over St. Louis this past week. The God we worship comes as a bright cloud, a light in the darkness that emanates from the face of Jesus and lights the path of love for all Christ’s followers. 

That’s who WE are!

“Lord, it’s good that we’re HERE!”

   And when we hear the stories that will be reported in the coming month, when inevitably change occurs - all things change; this isn’t the first time for our denomination and it won’t be the last - remember the words of Jesus to his disciples in the aftermath of this mountain top experience of transformation - “Get up! Do not be afraid!”

   We must get up, we cannot allow ourselves to be knocked down by the forces of evil and fear who deny God’s children’s right to exist, while grasping for power, money, and property for themselves, all the while claiming to embrace a “biblical Christianity” that they seek to hold others to but not themselves. 

Get up! Do NOT be afraid! The Christian Bible I read, the words of Christ I see, says to “judge not, lest YE be judged!” It says, “let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.” It says “love your neighbor as yourself.” 

It says “God is love, and those who do not love do not know God.”

   So, while the denominational powers that be work out how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, and who is the better Christian, and who gets custody of what in the divorce that is surely coming, and while the WCA plots to pack up and leave town in the middle of the night, more closely modeling former Cleveland Browns owner Art Modell than Jesus Christ, let us remember that OUR call as beloved children of God in THIS place is simply this: 

to love ALL our neighbors, to feed our hungry neighbors, to clothe our naked neighbors, to visit our sick and imprisoned neighbors, and to follow Jesus Christ where he leads us - to the margins and to the marginalized. 

    And finally, know this - a General Conference can legislate many things, but regardless of how they read scripture, regardless of where they call home, regardless of how many votes they cast,  they cannot legislate against God’s love for all God’s children!

“Lord, it’s good that we are HERE!” Amen? Amen.