Sermon: In Humility... (A Tribute to the Day Family)

Rev. Mandy Sloan Flemming
Mission Sunday
June 15, 2008

In Humility…

Philippians 2:1-13
2If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, 2make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. 4Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.
5Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 6who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. 9Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, 10so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
12Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence, but much more now in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; 13for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.
Let us Pray: Holy and Gracious God, we give you thanks for calling us into being and into service. Help us to respond to your call with glad and willing hearts. May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight. Amen.

Sisters and Brothers, I have just returned from my first mission trip in many, many years. If it seems odd to you that a minister in the early years of her service to Christ Jesus and the church hasn’t been on an actual mission trip since her own college days, well, you’re right. I have held fast to the notion that I have been serving in my own local mission context each day as I wake up with two young children who are beautifully demanding from morning until night, and into the night. But, I know in my heart of hearts, that nothing can shake us out of our spiritual doldrums like the opportunity to get away from our daily routine and enter into a world that is unlike ours. As Eugene Peterson once observed: “The Christian faith needs continuous maintenance; it requires attending to.” This week, I got my chance as my husband, two children, and five of our youth piled into a 15 passenger van and headed to the Hinton Rural Life center in Hayesville, NC.
This past week, I have witnessed some absurdities. It seemed somewhat absurd that my entire family, my own mission field, if you will, would be attending this trip. What on earth would I do with my 1 year old and my 3 year old?! How would the youth respond? And once we arrived, the absurdities continued. The church van from my home church in Knoxville, TN sat in the parking lot, dirty and faded from years of hard labor. It had been donated to the Hinton center several years ago, but it was in this very van that I took on all of my mission trips as a youth. As I went to visit Margaret and Tori in their room, I noticed that Rev. Jim and Virginia Hankins had sponsored it; Rev. Hankins baptized me at my home church. Absurd!
When we finally arrived on site at a little home in Murphy, NC, tucked away in the mountains, we became overwhelmed with absurdities. After all, when was the last time you saw a house whose water was brought in from a pipe, run from a well? A wood burning stove? A couple in their 70s who were still working so that they could pay their medical bills? A house that had been built room-by-room with found lumber and materials? A diamondback rattler on the guest room dresser? Okay- I didn’t actually see that last one, but it happened a few days before we arrived at the home of W.L. and Annie Day.
To give the full picture of W.L and Annie Day’s life would take longer than I have this morning, but I can tell you that W.L. was diagnosed with brain cancer two years ago, and has since had a tumor the size of his fist removed from his skull. He is left with a strong spirit, but a fragile body. His wife, Annie, has bones that are aging faster than she is, but she still goes to work at a nursing home at 5:30 every morning. They have two sons, and 5 grandchildren. Both of their sons live in decaying trailers on their property, off the gravel road that leads to their piecemeal house. Their oldest son, Dennis, has 4 girls, one of whom was taken in when she was 3. His oldest daughter, who turns 17 next month, is engaged to be married in December. W.L. and Annie’s youngest son, Michael, died last September 12. After his wife ran off with their infant son, the darkness overwhelmed the light and he turned to drugs. On that morning in the fall, they found him, alone.
As the stories began unfolding during our week with the Day family, it was clear that there was more work to be done than we could accomplish in 4 6-hour work days. If Paul exhorts for us to “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit,” it was clear that we could do nothing more than begin some good work here, but we wouldn’t come close to attaining our goal. But, we dove in and began to take down trim from ceilings, as pollen and dust showered upon us. Margaret and I were nearly paralyzed as our fear of snakes overwhelmed us. Joseph unhooked rickety plumbing, and Jacob removed a bathtub, while Ben took down rotten sheetrock and decaying floors to find more decay and brokenness. Because the house had literally been built room-by-room, nothing was square, level, or proper. This was the model of a home that was on the verge of collapse – physically, emotionally and spiritually. The Day family had seen just about all it could handle for one lifetime.
Paul writes to the Philippians, “If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete.” In discussing the passage this week, Margaret astutely pointed out the absurdity of Paul’s phrasing. Why would he say “If … then?” Shouldn’t he be a little more bold? Why phrase this as a question when it seems clear that we should assume that there is encouragement in Christ, compassion and sympathy. Perhaps Paul knew that for folks like the Days, encouragement and sharing in the Spirit were becoming luxuries beyond their ability.
We noticed without platitude our ability to come home and wash off the decay and rot, while we left the Day family with no running water or place to shower. Jacob, Matt and Joseph and Ben removed their bathtub, which was cracked before its installation in 2004, on Tuesday, and a new one won’t arrive until this week. We had to turn off the plumbing to the house. This meant that Annie and W.L. had to trudge up the hill to the trailer that had belonged to Michael. W.L. had been their every day over the winter to keep a fire going. Annie hadn’t set foot there since his death.
On Wednesday, Annie didn’t go to work. She, her daughter-in-law, Maria, and their two youngest daughters went to Michael’s to begin cleaning. They kept vigil there all morning while we worked on W.L.’s house. I have no idea what they were working on, but I do know that it smelled overwhelmingly of bleach when I visited after lunchtime. With Cooper sleeping on my back, I took W.L.’s suggestion to go visit Annie and the other women. Their youngest granddaughter, Hannah, gave me a tour of Michael’s home, pointing out his love of stockcar racing and Dale Jr. In the corner of the living room was a television the size of a SmartCar; it was the last thing he bought before he died, as a lease-purchase from ColorTyme. Down the hall was his son’s room, filled with stuffed animals and some new-looking baby toys. There were family photos and drinks in the fridge. Maria and her team were straightforward in their labor, but they asked me to pray with them.
On a hot Wednesday afternoon, in the valley of the Appalachian Mountains, I prayed with these women. I prayed for their strength, their love, healing, patience. I prayed fervently for hope and continued faith in Christ. They invited me to pray for them by name, offering me nuggets of insight into their most desperate longing. Truly these were people who were desperate for hope; their faith was beginning to waver, as the events of the last few years had been nearly too much for them. The words of Paul in Philippians came to mind as I prayed with them, and we thanked God for Jesus, who “did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.” Wendell Debner writes that, “Jesus abandoned all claims to the form of God in the choice of nothingness or emptiness. The rich one became poor for our sakes. Here is Christ under all conditions of human life.” Here is Christ, indeed. In a broken-down trailer of a broken-down family with a broken-down spirit. Here is Christ. In the midst of abject poverty and desolation. The son of God, covered in dirt, filth and sadness, joined in our circle of prayer.
There was a shift that day. The Day family, who was on the verge of giving into the darkness, saw new light. Our work on the site crawled to a slow and painful halt as we encountered setback upon setback. But, Tori – our family coordinator – laid a foundation for us to spend some quality time with this family. They helped us carry out scraps of wood, pile up lumber, store away insulation. They participated in the life and work that we had been called to do for them. John Baillie writes that “Humility is the obverse side of confidence in God, whereas pride is the obverse side of confidence in self.” This week, we witnessed humility, as none regarded any other as better than themselves. Our week of mission ended on Thursday night as we feasted in fellowship with the Day family. They joined us for dinner, and we, one of the smallest groups at Hinton, had one of the largest tables of folks. We ate, enjoyed dessert, and sat on the porch overlooking Lake Chatuge drinking coffee and hot chocolate, enjoying the beauty of God’s creation that is for us all.
Paul writes that we are to “look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” How are you doing this in your own life? Are you caring for a partner, friend, parent, loved one? Have you donated your time and effort to those in need? Do you serve with the breakfast or supper club? If so, remember that you are doing all of this for God and God’s call in you, in humility. Brothers and sisters, I witnessed this week some absurdities, but what a blessing these were. It led all of us to understand that truly “it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” Amen and amen.

God's sense of humor is intimately linked with God's sense of time.

Today, Matt got up and rode to a conference for preachers with his friend and colleague. This conference, called the Festival of Homiletics, is kind of a big deal. Last year, 2300 preachers and ministers of all kinds descended upon Minneapolis for this conference. This year, it's back in Atlanta, and we were thrilled that it would be so close.

So, today, Matt arrived for the opening session and at around 10:30 am, was approached an asked to speak at the Festival. Today. At 1:30. Apparently, Jim Wallis missed his plane.

Jim, wherever you are, Thank you.

So, with a little bit of frenzy and a lot of trust, Matt walked to the pulpit at Peachtree Road United Methodist Church, and began his lecture. People laughed at his jokes, they nodded at his points, they murmured in agreement. Also, they showed up, which had caused some brief concern. He may not be Jim Wallis, but he's got something to say.

I'm proud of you, Matt Flemming. And, I managed to control myself and not bring my rainbow wig or big foam finger or sign that read, "I share intimate moments with this man!!" or, "I know Matt Flemming (Biblically, that is)" which I think is a sign of my devotion.

You've worked long and hard for such a time as this. Well done, Boo.

Remembering SPC Ryan King

On May 1, 2009, SPC Ryan King and two others from his unit were killed in an attack. He and his new wife, Rachel were both serving in the Army and stationed in Afghanistan. They were scheduled to return in June. Ryan was 22 years old.

Ryan's mother attends Saint Mark UMC, and today she grieves the loss of her oldest son with her partner, her two children and Ryan's widow.

The funeral was scheduled for 11:00, and when I arrived at 10:00, the funeral home was packed. The Patriot Guard was present for support and protection against any protesters. The service was powerful and moving, and the question hovering in the room was, "Why, O Lord? Why?" We lifted our voices and sang "I'll Fly Away" and "Amazing Grace" with throats thick with sorrow.

After the service, the funeral procession began from Dallas,GA to the Georgia National Cemetery in Canton. For the duration of the 36 miles, a procession of motorcycles, limousines, police escorts and cars stretched for a mile past the hearse. It seemed that all of North Georgia had come out to pay their respects. Schools and businesses shut down. Marquees donned Ryan's name. Veterans knelt in sorrow on the side of the road. Flags were waved and tears were shed. Interstates were blocked, and overpasses were crowded with people pausing to remember. The trees of the field clapped their hands in mourning.

We are gathering for the interment now. In this sight, there is the amazing grace of God who sits with us as we weep.

My Chains are gone, I've been set free.
My God, My Savior has ransomed me.
And like a flood, his mercy reigns.
unending love, amazing 'Grace.
- Chris Tomlin, Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone)

Sermon: Let us Love One Another

Rev. Mandy Sloan Flemming
Sermon, Festival of the Christian Home
Bearden United Methodist Church
May 10, 2009

1 John 4:7-21, NRSV

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. God’s love was revealed to us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God, but that God loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and God’s love is perfected in us.

By this we know that we abide in God and God in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and do testify that the Father has sent his Son as the Savior of the world. God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. So we have known and believe the love that God has for us.

God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is not fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because God first loved us. Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers and sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.

Jen: The Word of God for the People of God.
All: Thanks be to God.

May my meditation be pleasing to you, O God, for I rejoice in the Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Amen.

If I may, I’d like to begin this morning with an apology. The last time I was here, was on my birthday, May 24, 2002. It was a few days after my finals of my second year of seminary, and Rev. Pollock had extended an invitation for me to come and preach. I was young, inexperienced, and emboldened with one preaching class and a whopper of a Wesleyan Theology paper under my belt. So, I came, and preached to you what was essentially that paper. Sisters and Brothers, you were so gracious. So kind. Maybe I preached with some conviction and knowledge, but certainly with no sense of hospitality or compassion. So, today, my clever mother has found that the only way to get me to come celebrate Mother’s Day with her is to wrangle the UMW into inviting me to preach. Well done, Mom. Well done. It was with great joy and much humility that I accepted Linda Warner’s invitation, and I am so glad to be here with you today. I promise, this time, to preach you a sermon, rather than a final paper.

This morning, I also bring you greetings from Saint Mark United Methodist Church in midtown Atlanta, where I have been appointed as the Minister of Christian Education and Spiritual Formation for the past two years. They were gracious and kind to encourage me to come and be with you today with their blessing. Between their love and support, and yours, as well, I am certainly blessed to be called into service in this church we all call home.

Today, our text centers on the topic of love, and the love that we are called to have for one another. Today, we are also celebrating what we celebrate in the church as the Festival of the Christian Home. At Saint Mark, we have a number of non-traditional families. For days like this, when we celebrate our Mothers who have raised us, it calls into question what it means to be a family. Many of our congregants have been cast aside and are out of relationship with their mothers and fathers. So, this day arrives with weight. I imagine that’s true for some of us here today, as well. We know that we are commanded to honor our mothers and fathers, who have, from time to time, disappointed or hurt us, failed us or even abandoned us. On my best days as a mother, I am certain that I commit all of these sins, and yet, I still hope and pray for the love and forgiveness of my young sons.

But the truth of it is, for each of us to be given one shot at love – one shot at mothering or being mothered – lacks a lot of grace. The good news for us is that God calls us to love with a transcendent love that surpasses our failings and misgivings, disappointments and wounds. And God calls us, as the church, to love one another. Not because we’re good people or deserving. In fact, we’re called to love one another because we don’t deserve it. We’re called to love one another because God did it first.

Our scripture comes from a tiny but important letter in the back of your New Testament, 1 John. John is writing in the afterglow of the Resurrection, but with the understanding that this resurrection could not have happened without the crucifixion. Holding these things in tension, he writes in chapter four he hits identifies what our final call as Christians is: to love one another, because love is from God. John Wesley wrote in his notes on the Bible that “This is the sum of all religion, the genuine model of Christianity when we are reminded that God is love.”

The author of 1 John begins with a reminder that God’s love was revealed to us in a particular way: that God sent God’s only son into the world so that we might live through him. For the theologians in the crowd, we understand that God’s love has been revealed to us through the Incarnation. Revelation through Incarnation. We understand God’s love because God lived with us, died with us and rose again to remain with us through the power of the Holy Spirit. Revelation. Incarnation. Trinitarian. It’s getting heavy here in this little letter. So, what does this mean?

Sisters and Brothers, it means that God loved us so much that God couldn’t stand to live apart from us. So, Jesus was born. A humble child in a humble manger with humble parents and a fabulous birth announcement from the Angels and Archangels. When God breaks into the world, the world takes notice. This child was born, and from that moment on, death chased him – into Egypt, out of Egypt and into Jerusalem and all of Judea. As this boy Messiah came of age, he grew into a profession, taught in the synagogue, and got baptized. This boy. The Son of God. Of one essence with God, was baptized in the Jordan, where Naaman had been washed and cleansed and healed. Where John prophesied that one was coming who was greater than he. The fanfare that proceeded him pointed to his glory, but his glory was found not in gilded clothes or magnificent chariots, but in his dirty feet and worn garments. His glory and majesty didn’t set him apart, but made him all the more common. This man, this God, this Author of Life came to speak the Word to us, that we might hear and believe the truth and power of God’s love and grace.

But we, brothers and sisters, are dense people. We do not know what it means to love with such radical hospitality or forgiveness. With such grace and compassion. At least, not in the way that Jesus loved. He ate with sinners and tax collectors, and we prefer to cast down our eyes and pray quietly as we mutter, “Bless their hearts.”

One of my favorite authors is Anne Lamott. I conduct a class on Wednesday evenings and we’re currently reading her most recent book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. In this book are a collection of essays, including one called Sincere Meditations. Here, she describes a man she knows who has started a church, of sorts. He has come to claim that “unconditional love is a reality, but with a shelf life of about 8-10 seconds” (Lamott, p. 110). And when we get to that point, we should be grateful, name it and share it with our loved ones: “Darling, I love you unconditionally, but only until the end of dinner.” Cynical? Maybe. But true. You see, we can’t live like saints all of the time, since we are sinners all of the time. But on occasion, the grace and holiness breaks into our own lives and we’re able, if only for a moment, to love like we’re called to love.

The author of 1 John knows this, too. He writes about a concept beloved of our denominational father, John Wesley: Christian Perfection. The critics of our tradition like to misrepresent what Wesley was describing in this call. But, he was picking up on the language used in this passage: “Love has been perfect among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because God first loved us.” (v. 17-19) Wesley was drawn to the understanding of God as love because it had been so profoundly important in his own spiritual maturity. On his day of conversion, Aldersgate Day (May 24, 1738), he understood that God’s love was for him – even him – a sinner. For this epistle to center on the theme of love only solidified what Wesley encountered in his moment of justification. Revelation led him to understand perfection in love, because God is love: “This little sentence brought St. John more sweetness, even in the time he was writing it, than the whole world can bring. God is often styled holy, righteous, wise; but not holiness, righteousness, or wisdom in the abstract, as he is said to be love; intimating that this love is his darling, his reigning attribute, the attribute that sheds an amiable glory on all his other perfections” (Wesley, Notes on the Bible, v. 8, 19).

God’s darling: Perfection in love. Here, the author names that what we are called to be is not perfect models of unconditional love, which is good, because that’s only setting us up for failure. Rather, he is calling us to be fearless. Fearless because in love, there is no fear. No fear of punishment or abandonment, rejection or hurt. And, the source of this kind of love – the love that destroys not only fear, but even death – is God. For God is love. We learn that love is the opposite, not of hate, but of fear. Fear is what causes us to be timid, keeps us from being vulnerable, and leads us to mistrust. But God says: Fear not, for I am with you, and will be with you to the end of the age.

When I was 7 years old, my parents decided to go out of town together for the first time since I’d been born. It was a big decision, and one they made with much caution. They made arrangements for Carol Long to come and stay with me, and planned to leave on Friday while I was at school. That afternoon, I arrived home on the bus to find Carol waiting for me, as planned. We’d gotten a movie and some popcorn. It was going to be a great night. Except… I was sick. My stomach hurt more than I could describe. I’d always been prone to bad stomachaches, especially when anxious, so Carol did her best to comfort and console me. She offered me pepto bismol and fizzy drinks. I refused, curling on the couch and trying to find some comfort.

After a few hours of this behavior, Carol called the person she thought might know what best to do: Genie Kilday. Genie had successfully raised 3 children into childhood and through puberty. Genie came over, took one look at me and put me in her car. Relieved, and scared, I did what any queasy and anxious child would do in this situation: I vomited all over the floormat. So, I could add embarrassment and a bit of shame to my list of symptoms. When we arrived at the Emergency Room, Carol and Genie accompanied me back to the small, curtained off room. There, the doctor supposed that my appendix was on the verge of rupturing, and I would most certainly need surgery by morning. They sent me home for the night, and frantic phone calls were made to my parents to alert them of the situation. Remember, these are my parents, who took a weekend off from parenting their only child for the first time in seven years. They were due a nice vacation.

The following morning, Carol drove me to the hospital, where I was admitted and sent back to receive the anesthesia. My parents were driving from North Carolina, and I was scared. But, as I waited for surgery, something miraculous happened: you came to see me. Carol was there, Genie was there, and more and more faces from this congregation gathered to sit and wait and pray with me. It’s even more glorious in my memory because the anesthesia was kicking in, which made the gathering seem all the more ethereal, but I can say that I experienced what unconditional love is in that tiny room. You showed it to me.

And, Sisters and Brothers, I’ve watched you show that kind of love to so many throughout the years. Some saints of this congregation have passed away recently, and you’ve shown up to sit and mourn and grieve their passing with their families and friends. You have comforted the afflicted, helped to feed the poor, visited the sick, and wept for the dying. You’ve sat with scared little girls before surgery and shown that the greatest weapon against fear is love.

Wesley believed that “This commandment have we from both God and Christ. That he who loveth God love his brother - Every one, whatever his opinions or mode of worship be, purely because he is the child of, and bears the image of God. Bigotry is properly the want of this pure and universal love. A bigot only loves those who embrace his opinions, and receive his way of worship; and he loves them for that, and not for Christ's sake,” (Wesley, notes on the Bible, v. 21). Sisters and Brothers, you have shown me what it is to love for Christ’s sake, not for your own. I invite you today to show this radical sense of love to someone – someone who might have hurt you or chastised you or radically disagrees with you, or someone who might have taught you what it means to love – show them what it means to love as Christ loved… even if for only 8-10 seconds.

May the God who created us, give us love.
May the Christ who redeemed us, give us grace.

May the Spirit that abides with us, give us peace.

Amen.

Stained Glass Ceiling: Shattered!

Last week, I was driving with Jackson to a party. Something came up about St. Mark Church, and we had this exchange:

Jackson: Mom? Why don't you sit with Daddy, Cooper and I during church?
Me: Well, J, I have to sit up front with Reverend Josh and Reverend Jimmy and Reverend Phillip so that we can help lead worship.
Jackson: Oh. [Pause.]
I didn't know boys could be Reverends.

Congratulations, women in ministry! We have finally arrived! Matt and I have joked that the next mind-boggling topic will be the discovery that boys and girls can get married. (BA-ZING!) We've got a new generation of tiny folks on our hands, and I have to say, I like how they think.

Sermon: Not By Our Own Power or Piety

Rev. Mandy Sloan Flemming
Saint Mark United Methodist Church
Sermon: Acts 3: 12-26
Sunday, April 26, 2009
                "Not by our own power and piety!"

Acts 3:12-26

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o'clock in the afternoon. ²And a man lame from birth was being carried in. People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. ³When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. ⁴Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, "Look at us." ⁵And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. ⁶But Peter said, "I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." ⁷And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. ⁸Jumping up, he stood and began to walk, and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. ⁹All the people saw him walking and praising God, ¹⁰and they recognized him as the one who used to sit and ask for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple; and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him. ¹¹While he clung to Peter and John, all the people ran together to them in the portico called Solomon's Portico, utterly astonished.

¹²When Peter saw it, he addressed the people, "You Israelites, why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk? ¹³The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus, whom you handed over and rejected in the presence of Pilate, though he had decided to release him. ¹⁴But you rejected the Holy and Righteous One and asked to have a murderer given to you, ¹⁵and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead. To this we are witnesses. ¹⁶And by faith in his name, his name itself has made this man strong, whom you see and know; and the faith that is through Jesus has given him this perfect health in the presence of all of you. ¹⁷"And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers. ¹⁸In this way God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, that his Messiah would suffer. ¹⁹Repent therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out, ²⁰so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that he may send the Messiah appointed for you, that is, Jesus, ²¹who must remain in heaven until the time of universal restoration that God announced long ago through his holy prophets. ²²Moses said, 'The Lord your God will raise up for you from your own people a prophet like me. You must listen to whatever he tells you. ²³And it will be that everyone who does not listen to that prophet will be utterly rooted out of the people.' ²⁴And all the prophets, as many as have spoken, from Samuel and those after him, also predicted these days. ²⁵You are the descendants of the prophets and of the covenant that God gave to your ancestors, saying to Abraham, 'And in your descendants all the families of the earth shall be blessed.' ²⁶When God raised up his servant, he sent him first to you, to bless you by turning each of you from your wicked ways."

    There was a time when we walked in the presence of a great light. There was a time when our needs were met, and we felt as though we could do nothing but good. The truth seemed so clear, so present. There was a time when our focus was so singular, so distilled, so purposeful, that we talked and prayed and healed with the confidence of the children of God.

    That time was not so long ago.

    When you're in the presence of the one who has been promised to you for so long, it's hard to do much other than listen and respond with both assertion and utter befuddlement. It was so unlike any other time in my life. Once, many years ago, I was a fisherman. A good one. I provided enough food for an entire village in a single trip. My brother, Andrew, and I worked well together. I was good at what I did, but I never felt then like I felt during those three years. How quickly they passed, those three years. Like a flash of great light, and now, all I can do is try to ignite everything around me to see if it will shine as brightly.

    I remember the day he healed my mother-in-law. It was so quick. So simple – he touched her, and her fever abated. She was so grateful, her only response was to get up to make dinner. I think it might have been the only time in my life she's ever approved of me and the company I've kept. Until then, she didn't understand what I'd done. Why I'd stopped fishing and left to follow this man around. It seemed peculiar to her, and I can't say I blame her. It was peculiar to me. Why me? Of all people. I'm simple and dense. To me, the world was not a complicated place. We ate, we drank, we fished, we rested. My brother, Andrew, seemed a much more logical choice. He was always more straightforward than I. But, Jesus chose us both, and both of us followed, leaving our nets and joining James and John, who left their father Zebedee behind.

    Looking back, I could kick myself at how foolishly I behaved. I begged Jesus to let me wash his feet – and not just his feet, but his head and his hands. I tried to walk on water to see if it was really him coming to greet us during that awful storm. I denied him, just like he told me I would. Not once, but three times. I rejected this man who loved me more than I've ever been loved, trusted me more than I've ever been trusted, and called me his Rock: Peter - The Rock upon which the church would be built.

    Some rock.

    Most days, I felt more like a pebble in Jesus' sandal that nagged him constantly and wore a sore on his sole. His stories and analogies sailed over my head, as I desperately tried to understand what on earth he was saying to us. He was obtuse and vague, opaque and unclear. My feeble, stone-like brain could only take him literally. I had some crazy sense of audacity when it came to Jesus, though. I said things to him I never could have said to anyone. In a particularly idiotic moment, I had the nerve to rebuke him. I took him aside and reprimanded him! Can you imagine? On what authority did I do such a thing, other than my own foolishness. I did this to the one who called me blessed, and promised me the keys to the kingdom of heaven. In response to my audacity, he shouted, "Get behind me Satan" and reminded me where my head was – I couldn't get past my fear that he would be taken from us. I couldn't imagine that his life would end and mine would continue. So I did what I knew to do: I tried to stop him from saying these things. But nothing could stop the truth, not even my own ignorance. And, yet, he never denied me and never turned me away.

    And that week, that awful week… when we went from waving palms to weeping at the foot of the cross. I thought… I thought when that week began that we were making headway. That the countryside was truly beginning to resonate with the truth and understanding that this man, this Jesus, is truly the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. It had taken us so long to spread this news, but we finally joined with the company of believers who shouted their Hosannas and welcomed him into the city. But, when they shouted "Hosanna! Save me!," they didn't believe that this man was the one who could actually save them. They thought he was a prophet – pointing beyond his own words and witness. They couldn't hear his testimony that the Kingdom of God was here and now.

    And who am I to blame them? I couldn't understand, either. This man, the person to whom I've been most strongly drawn, remained something of a mystery to me. Even the day – the moment – that I got it right when Jesus asked us who we thought he was… .I still didn't get it. My words were no match for this one – THE WORD – who had come that we might know how much we are loved by God.

    I didn't get it until days and weeks after we saw him die, buried him in the tomb, and could not find his body. The women came to us, and their words seemed an idle tale and we did not believe them. I had to go and see for myself. Thomas is blamed as the doubter, but I harbored just as much doubt and disbelief. I ran to the tomb, and stooped to look in. There, I saw the linen clothes by themselves, and I went home, amazed. He appeared to us, later, on that road while we were walking to Emmaus. He broke bread. He returned once again so that we could see him ascend to heaven, and he left us with the promise of blessing and power from on high.

    What, then, O Lord? What then?

    We stayed in the temple, praising God's name for all that we had seen and heard and witnessed. But when you've been in the presence of God, all you want to do is re-claim that sense of overwhelming peace and joy. We did our best to re-tell these stories - these stories and times and events that had happened weeks and years before. We revisited them, and retold them and reminded one another of them. But, sharing theses stories amongst the disciples grew stale. My brother and our friends went to the upstairs room in Jerusalem to talk and pray. But, my spirit could not be contained there. I loved them, but I couldn't keep all that I'd seen to myself or the others. If Jesus was going to call me his Rock, and build the church upon me, then I had to be out in the world, with the sun warming my skin. I would stand among the believers and shout to them about the scriptures that had been fulfilled in our presence. I prophesied and witnessed and healed and rebuked. I spoke with authority, which was given to me by the Holy Spirit. And, when I spoke, people listened.

    My life changed again, after he ascended, after the Holy Spirit was given to us. In the beginning, I was a fisherman. When he was among us, I fished for people. And now that the Holy Spirit remains, I have become a prophet and an apostle. The student has become the teacher. I speak with humility, because there is no way that this hard-headed fisherman from Bethsaida would ever dare to speak in such a way. My mouth forms words and phrases that I could never conceive of on my own. I am a vessel for history, prophecy, scripture, and truth. But, I am a vessel that is earthen and broken. My cracks are so deep that the contents spill out without nuance. So, I shout "Repent, and be baptized!" I demand that all who will hear seek forgiveness, and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

    But it all comes back around. I wake each day, aware of what I've seen and the call I have to testify to the light that has come into the world. But, I awake each day with the reminder of my failings. How I denied Jesus, three times over, on the night that he was betrayed - by Judas. By me. And yet, I was not forsaken as he ascended the hill at Golgotha. I was not forsaken as he was lifted on the cross. I was not forsaken as he took his last breath. Instead, I was forgiven.

    And because I am forgiven, I have to give that same gift to others. It is my call, and I am obedient to it. John and I were going to the temple one day to pray, and we saw the man who had been lame since birth sitting at the gate – the Gate that was called Beautiful. It was the entrance to the House of God, where we could come and set all other duties aside and we could worship and pray, sing and lament. To cross the threshold of the Gate was to enter into a place of humility and grace. This man, whom we'd seen so many times before, called out to us, asking for alms. On this day, I looked at him. I saw him. My heart softened, and John and I approached him. I asked him to look at us. And, he fixed his attention on us, expecting, it seemed, to receive something.

    But I gave him nothing from my pockets. "Brother," I told him, "I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." I grasped his right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. He was so strong, he jumped up, like a child playing with an older sibling. With joy, unbound, and amazement, he stood and began to walk with confidence. His feet walked to the only place they could possibly go: the Temple, and he walked and leaped and praised God. It was quite a sight – this man, more than 40 years old, lame since birth – jumping about like a hyper toddler, shouting and singing. All in the temple took notice - they knew him. They knew this was the man that they'd passed every day for 40 years, who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple. You could see the awe and amazement on their faces.

    I should have been delighted, proud, even. But I was furious. These people – this was all it took? Hadn't they seen men healed before? The sight of the blind restored? The wounds of the bleeding healed? The madness of demoniacs cast out? But, here they sat, praising God in the temple as if this was the first miracle they'd ever witnessed. My heart pounded with rage and disappointment. They had seen death defeated! Lazarus was raised! Jarius' daughter was awakened! Jesus returned to us after being buried in a tomb!! What was it going to take for these people to understand how close they were to God – this day and every day? They shake their fists for feeling so far off, for thinking that God had forsaken and abandoned them, but one man walks, and they forget their doubt… at least for today. But, what about tomorrow when nothing astonishing happens? Do you have faith because you've witnessed a miracle? Or do you witness miracles because of your faith!?

    The day the man was healed, we walked with him toward the temple, through the Beautiful Gate. The rest gathered around us, surrounding the man and John and I on Solomon's Porch. As they rushed closer, my mouth in all of its boldness began to unleash all I could think to say:

    "You Israelites! Why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power and piety we had made this man walk? The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus, whom YOU handed over and rejected in the presence of Pilate, though he had decided to release him!
    But YOU rejected the Holy and Righteous One and asked to have a murderer given to you, and you killed the Author of Life, whom God raised from the dead.
    To this we are witnesses. And by faith in his name, his name itself has made this man strong, whom you see and know; and the faith that is through Jesus has given him this perfect health in the presence of all of you."


    They looked so shocked that it made me soften. My words stung. Their joy was tempered. But they were listening:

    "Friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did your rulers. But God, who through the preaching of all the prophets had said all along that the Messiah would be killed, knew exactly what you were doing and used it to fulfill his plans. Now it's time to change your ways! Repent, therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out. But, for the time being Jesus must remain out of sight in heaven until everything is restored to order again just the way God, through the preaching of his holy prophets of old, said it would be."

    That day, on Solomon's Porch, the man who sat at the Beautiful Gate walked into the temple in wholeness. There, on Solomon's Porch, I testified that it wasn't by my own power or piety that this one man was healed, but in the name of the one who loved me and never turned me away. And there, on Solomon's Porch, our work continued as we waited and hoped and prayed that the people would someday understand that the light that had come into the world had come to enlighten all people. And there, on Solomon's Porch, we stood in that light which broke through the shadows, and for a moment, we knew the truth – that the name that is above all names has more power than any of our actions. And if I can understand that… you know it's something.

Amen and Amen.

 

Why I'm obsessed with NPR...

Because they have a sense of humor, and can even (dare I say it) laugh at themselves.

Reporting for Reverend Mama, I'm Mandsy Baden-Baden

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What's Your NPR Name?

by Linda Holmes

In a roundabout way (by which I mean via Peter Sagal's Twitter feed), I discovered this entirely user-created and absolutely unofficial time-killer in which you discover "Your NPR name."

The rules: Take the first letter of your middle name and insert it anywhere you'd like in your first name. And then your last name is the smallest foreign town you've ever visited. Presto: You too can compete with Korva Coleman, Lakshmi Singh and Mandalit del Barco.

My NPR name? Alinda Castelldefels, which you must admit is awesome. I am absolutely using that next time they let me on the radio.

Hit it, in the comments.