​​I’d like to tell you a story about a statue that sat in front of an old church, and greeted you as you came in.  It was a gift given by one of the church’s wealthier members who hired a well-known artist to create a sculpture that would be the centerpiece for the growing town.  The patron wanted the statue to say something about the ministry and mission of the church, something that reflected an open invitation to the community, to come and worship the Lord.
 
And so, inspired by the gospel story of Jesus’ calling James and John, the Sons of Zebedee, the sculptor created a six-foot figure of Jesus with outstretched arms overlooking a long rectangular reflecting pool. There was a kindness to the face, a certain grace in his smile, and mercy in his eyes. His body language was both stoic and sympathetic. It called out to you as well as invited you in.
 
Because of his prominent placement at the east end of the pool, Jesus seemed much larger than life. If you stood in the right place, and looked at your reflection in the water, it looked as if Jesus was embracing you.  As you might imagine, it was a magnificent work of art that quickly became the church’s pride and joy.
 
Each Easter, volunteers draped Jesus with white linen and adorned the edges of the pool with beautiful and fragrant Easter lilies. For the sunrise service, the congregation would gather around it and worship; always amazed at how the silhouette of Jesus came alive in the blinding, rising sun.  
 
Still, beautiful as it was, the statue could not stop the effects of time and progress.  As the years went on, the town began to grow and generations changed from one to the next. The statue became less prominent, almost invisible. Smog stains, tree sap, the dirt and grime of modern life could only hide the cracks for so long.   
 
When the homeless claimed the pool as their own personal bath, the church let the water evaporate. The once grand reflecting pool had become nothing more than a swallow box that collected trash and the occasional rainwater.  Then one day, and sadly, no ones exactly what day it occurred, something terrible happened. A vandal took a hammer to Jesus, smashing off both hands and part of his right arm.
 
The heartbroken church members lit candles around the empty pool. And held a prayer vigil as the hustle and bustle of the city passed them by. The only one who seemed to notice their sadness, was Jesus who looked down on them; holding out his broken outstretched arms that gave him the appearance of a homeless man seeking alms for himself.
 
Slowly and mournfully, the church community returned to worship as normal.  But something was brewing underneath. There was an air of uneasiness and sadness. And soon a bigger problem began to surface. The statue that once defined the heart and soul of who they were, and how they wanted to be seen in the community, had begun to redefine them.
 
They began to see themselves as aging, broken, and overlooked by the community at large. No longer did they have the prominence they once had. No longer were people being drawn to their worship. They began to feel like beggars themselves, desperately trying to get the world’s attention to rescue them.
 
Feeling lost, the members of the church did what they have always done. They formed a committee. And at their first meeting, they voted unanimously to hold a fundraiser to repair the statue to its full glory. They were going to save Jesus, no matter the cost.
 
For the next month or so, volunteers spent hour after long hour making the preparations for the fundraiser. They made flyers to get the word out. They visited local businesses and gathered donations for a silent auction. They even convinced a well-known caterer to donate her professional time as a way to draw more people from the community.
 
Yet a week before the big event, the minister, who had been mostly silent on this issue, stood at the pulpit and showed them of a wonderful opportunity to serve Jesus in a much more meaningful way.
 
God was not asking them to repair the statue. It didn’t need to be repaired. Instead God was asking them to look at the statue and be reminded of their call: to be the hands of Jesus.  Just as the statue once reminded them of their hospitality and place in the community, it was once again reminding them of who they had always been. And what we all have always been called to do.
 
The church community decided to cancel the fundraiser and agreed the hands would not be replaced. Instead, standing together, they publicly declared, “We will become the hands of Jesus.” And that’s just what they did. They opened a food and clothing distribution center; reached out into the immigrant community to teach English and help people find employment; they started a prison ministry to the youth in local detention center; created a community garden and even filled the pool back up with water.
 
Their story is a good reminder that the church is not a building, any more than it is a statue. The church is the people. And if we want the world to notice us, then we must become the centerpiece, God’s pride and joy in our community.
Paul reminds us that race, gender, or social status will no longer define or divide God’s people. Through Christ Jesus, we are one united and holy body. Through our baptism, we have been filled with the Holy Spirit and ordained to continue Jesus’ ministry. For just as we rely on God for help, so too does God rely on us.
 
To paraphrase his final words Jesus said to his followers, “Go and make disciples. Go baptize them and teach them to bear the fruits that I have shown you.”   Paul defines the fruits as “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Jesus warns us that it is by these actions our life, our faith, and our church will be defined, both by the world and by God.
 
And so I encourage you, implore you, and beg you from the bottom of my heart, to stop the pettiness that divides and devours the church. And be the arms and hands of love, the visible presence of Jesus Christ our Lord; serving him and one another with gladness and singleness of heart. Amen. 

Jesus said, “Call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father- the one who is in heaven.” Now that puts a new twist on Father’s Day, doesn’t it?  In our house, we used to celebrate the day by allowing me, the father of the family, to do anything I want, or if I chose, don’t have to do anything at all. But all that has changed.
 
But leave it up to Jesus to mess with our beloved tradition. He just swoops in and takes all the glory away from me, without even asking what I think, or how it might make me feel. Instead he treats me like, well…like family.  
 
Yep, Father’s Day will never be the same, and perhaps that’s the good news.  Whether or not we love, or hate, or have never known our earthly father, we can say we have a Divine Dad who, through the Spirit of Love, claims us as his children.
 
No matter who we are, or what we’ve done, we belong to the Father who patiently gathers us, and cares for us, like a shepherd gathers and cares for the sheep. With this comes some responsibility around our holy house. Some dishwashing and taking out of the trash...some getting rid of the things in our life we don’t need. 
 
As God’s beloved children we no longer only belong to this world, but we belong, first and foremost to God’s world where there is one Father, who is God, and one teacher who is Jesus, who challenges us to set aside the ways of the world to become something new. In other words, we have to change. Believe me, I know how hard that is to hear, muchless do.
 
But it’s not really that scary. Over the last 162 years, this church has both grown and evolved because of the bold choices and changes its members have made. Interestingly, our church was founded around the same time Charles Darwin argued those species who adapt quickly to change are the ones that will continue to exist.
 
Children of God are no different. As the world evolves, we can no longer afford to sit and watch. We must be the catalyst of change. We must be Christians, not complacent, if we want our church to survive.
 
These are muscles we do not often exercise. Like I said last week, change makes us uncomfortable, nervous, and vulnerable. But it also wakes us up, snaps us out of our dream state, and returns our focus on God.
 
Jesus said, “Call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father- the one who is in heaven.”  Thank you Jesus. My father’s day will never be the same.

For example, just a few days ago, I celebrated the two-year anniversary of my ordination, which ironically was on Father’s Day. In looking back I was humbled by the many ways my life has changed since then: No longer do I get to do whatever I want, or refuse to do anything at all. Instead, I do what the Father has called me to do. That change led to another, which of course was a change of address. Here, in a land with four distinct seasons, I discovered change is natural, inevitable, and happens whether we want it to or not.  The weather in Michigan is a perfect example. It changes every five minutes.
 
Another big change in our life occurred on August 28, 2012 when Kathleen’s father died. When we lose our parent, or someone close to us, it seems like life will never be the same again. And it won’t.  There is nothing we can do to bring that person back.  Life has changed.  Through the pain and heartache, we discover a new sense of calling and purpose; one without him, but inspired by him in so many new ways.
 
If your father was absent from your life because of death, or a divorce, or a court order, or an addiction, or any number of reasons, then Father’s Day can be a painful reminder of the brokenness life.
You so desperately want to change from where you are, that you are willing go to some unhealthy places to seek out something new and different. Some changes make us; others break us.
 
Jesus knows this, and understands our pain, our fears, and he heals our wounds and restores our souls by setting our eyes on the one who saves and redeems us in love. God the Father.
 
For those who don’t have a great relationship with your earthly father, giving God this prominent title can evoke emotional connotations of authority, power, and control. And as result it pushes you further away from God. But Jesus, the divine Son of God, seeks to change the way we think, and the way we act, and does so by changing the dynamic of our relationship with the Father; especially in the way we communicate.
 
When Jesus prays to God, he begins by saying, “Abba, Father.” The word  ‘Abba,’ a tender term of endearment used by a child toward their own father. In modern terms, we might translate it as “Daddy.” The origin of the word literally comes from the mouths of babes, in that it’s a combination of simple sounds a baby first makes, like da-da, or pa-pa.  Think about it, Jesus is telling us the very first word we speak is praise to God, the Father. As such, every word must be spoken as if God is present; like every day is Father’s Day.
 
Choosing to describe God so intimately, Henri Nouwen reminds us that "Jesus changes our understanding of our relationship with God." No longer seen as a distant authoritarian in some far away heaven, God becomes an intimate part of us, as we become a part of him…heirs to his love.
 
Therefore, calling God Abba, Father is not so much about naming God but everything to do with claiming God as the source of who we are. Nouwen says it’s about “entering into the same intimate, fearless, trusting, and empowering relationship with God that Jesus had. It’s a cry from the heart, a prayer welling up from our innermost being” (1).
 
Take the words of St. Paul, who writes, “For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God… And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”  If we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ…in his glory” (2). As heirs, adopted into a heavenly family, we also inherit the divine qualities of our ‘Abba, Father.’ And so Paul warns us “not to be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our mind” (3). 
 
Change will either break us; or make us. But either way, it’s inevitable. It’s hard to say, and it’s hard to hear. But we get through it because the love of our Father remains constant. Therefore, our alliance is to him. God is our Father, our Abba, our Savior. And we are God’s beloved.
 
So what does this mean for us today? Return to the 23rd Psalm: we must become the shepherds that feed the hungry, restores the souls of the broken, offers comfort to those who are afraid, and sets a table for our enemies and offers them a feast worthy of a king. Take over the Father’s business as it were.
 
And so as we face the changes that are bound to happen, inside and outside our church, we do so with our eyes fixed on our father. We must regard each other as brothers and sisters; taking our cue from Jesus who said, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”  
 
Now take a moment to imagine how the world would change if everybody believed this and acted accordingly.   
 
May all praise be to God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

​
Work Cited
(1) Nouwen, Henri J. M. Bread for the Journey: A Daybook of Wisdom and Faith (p. 175-177). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.
(2) Romans 8:14-17 (NRSV)
(3) Romans 12:2 (NRSV)

There’s an old saying in Hollywood, “You want to find a writer, just throw a rock you’re your bound to hit one.” To which many writers might add, “And make sure you throw it hard enough to help eliminate the competition.”
The story written by Luke, recalls not a writer but a sinner, to which same idiom rings true. “If you want to find a sinner, just throw a rock at someone.”

It’s certainly easier to spot a sinner than it is to see a saint. Or as Jesus might say, “It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own” (Mt. 7:3). Our perspective, our way of seeing things, is often far removed from Jesus. As such, the way we see things…and the way others see us…becomes skewed.

In the first Century, Jesus’ point of view ruffled a lot of feathers, especially to those loyal to the Roman Emperor. Not much has changed in two millennia, for Jesus continues to make us all more than uncomfortable. And he should. He forces us out of our comfort zone, and opens our eyes to see a new life, different than that of “the norm.”

Jesus’ words, his actions, his boldness and sensitivity threatens popular culture, upsets the status quo, and angers our earthly kingdom purposefully. He came to restore God’s kingdom, and does it by transforming our earthly ones. Let's face it, Jesus came to change the way we view others, and the way we see the world around us, which is to say through God’s eyes. So it’s no wonder people quiver with fear when he says, “Come follow me.”

But human beings don’t like change. It demands too much from us. Requires us to face things we may not want to face. Here is what we need to remember: To be called Christian requires us to see God’s way, and to follow God even when it rubs us the wrong way or threatens our life.

In the reading this morning, the Pharisee Simon seems to believe he and Jesus see eye-to-eye. The story implies there’s a cordial relationship between the two men. But in the nuances of the text we discover there is a current of tension stirring under the surface. And the air is thick with whispers from the crowds, and perhaps a bit of smugness in their judgment.

When Jesus takes his seat at the table, a woman who seems almost invisible, quietly kneels behind him and begins to wash him, as it was the custom in those days. Like many women in the gospel stories, she is nameless…but like every one of us, she is certainly not blameless. Yet, when her hand touches Jesus, something amazing happens. Instead of shaking with fear and trepidation, she begins to weep, sobbing enough tears to wash the Lord’s feet.

Jesus asks Simon, “Do you see this woman?” Simon sees her, perhaps as you and I might, …by her reputation. He doesn’t see what Jesus sees. After hearing a parable about forgiveness and debts, he and his other guest continue to cast their judgment, oblivious to the power of God sitting among them.

What the story doesn’t tell us is what the weeping woman sees when she approaches Jesus. What has shifted in her life that enables her to see Jesus in such a way that motivates this outpouring of love and thanksgiving?

Does she know the power of forgiveness, and is so overwhelmed with a sense of humility and gratitude, that she can’t help but weep tears of joy? Does she get the true meaning of God’s grace, or the value it has on her life as her shame washes away like the dirt on Jesus’ feet? I would say a resounding, “Yes.” She sees God’s power made manifest before her very eyes.

This nameless woman’s story, and the nameless sins she has committed, teach us to see how our status and standing in society, be it religious, political, or social, are irrelevant when it comes to God’s love being poured out upon us.

Paul writes in Romans, “We all fall short of the glory of God.” Meaning not one of us is above the other, we are all one people… under the power of one true God. And yet, for some reason, we continue to draw boundary lines between us. We set ourselves against one another. We whisper unkind things behind each other’s backs. We push people to the margins. We bully them and shame them until we get our way. Too often, we don’t see the hurt these actions cause others, or perhaps we do and we just don’t care.

This story reminds us that we can’t hide from our sin. But we can run to forgiveness, by running to Jesus. And not simply running to him, but walking with him towards a new and redeemed life.

Just as Jesus knows Simon’s thoughts, and guilt, he also knows the nameless woman’s and ours as well. He knows our intensions and will judge accordingly. But when Jesus tells us to open our eyes, he isn’t telling us to see a sinner. Instead he teaches us to look for grace, forgiveness, mercy, and love. This, of course, requires us to step out of our comfort zones and habits, if we wish to be truly transformed; living more like Jesus, and less like…well, human beings.

When Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven…go in peace,” He is offering us more than a clean slate. He is offering us the way to move away from sin, and become something new.

But when we willingly choose to return to the same old ways, fanning the flames of gossip or untruths, hurting others with rumors or acts of violence- it is as if we are turning from the face of God and saying, “I am washed clean, and will be again and again, so what’s the big deal?” What does this attitude say to God, or to those watching us from the periphery?

As St. Augustine points out, “We cannot accept a gift when our hands remain full.” We can’t accept God’s forgiveness if our heart is filled with bitter jealousy, anger, resentment, and an unwillingness to be transformed.

This nameless woman teaches us that a truly repentant heart comes to God, with empty hands and a desire to be made new. Taking for granted God’s gift of love and forgiveness, whether we know it or not, is a far greater sin that you might imagine. It devalues God’s love and cheapens his grace. We can’t split our loyalty to God, nor can we divide God’s love as we see fit.

So ask yourself these questions, “How many times must I be forgiven before I shift my way of being?” “How many times must the Lord prove to me that I am, in fact, better than I tend to behave?” “How many times will it take for me to realize the hurt I cause others is, in fact, the same pain I cause Jesus?”

We are not isolated individuals, but members of God’s family, members of a living and conscious body of Christ. When one of us hurts, we all feel it. My charge to you is to seek the Kingdom of God by seeing Jesus in the face of others. Treat one another as if your actions are directed towards God.

When we look into the eyes of another human being and see Jesus, we begin to transform this earthly kingdom into God’s kingdom. When we decide to serve the God that loves us by treating all his beloved children with love and respect, then we can truly rejoice and begin to share joy with God and one another. Remember our acronym for Joy? Jesus first, others second, and you last.

When we become one with the One who forgives us and lifts the burden of shame and rejection, gives us value and self-worth in spite of how unworthy others have made us feel, then we receive peace. We become a valuable part of God’s shalom.

If you ask me, this is real freedom, freedom that no symbol or nation can give us. This is the real gift of a loving God, who frees us from all sin, shame, guilt, jealousy, anger, malice and the like.

Let us all take these words home today. “A heart that is bound by sin withers and dies, but the love of a forgiving God lifts us to a height beyond our greatest dreams and causes us to weep and sing with great joy.” (Bartlett 2010)

Come, let us weep with joy and embrace the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ who said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
​
Amen.

​Works Cited
(NRSV), Bible. Luke 7:36-50; Matthew 7:5 (MSG).
Bartlett, David L., Barbara Brown Taylor, ed. Feasting on the Word, Year C, volume 3. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2010. Quote by M. Jan Holton.
Kim-Kort, Mihee. "Reflections on the Lectionary." Christian Century, May 2016: 21.

Today was a day spent in The Beatitudes.

Matthew‬ ‭5:3-12‬. The Message, translated by Eugene Petterson.

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

“You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

“You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

“You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

“You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

“You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

“You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

“Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company.

"My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble."