Celebrating a Life Well-Lived... words from my dad's funeral

In 2012, my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer. He was 85 years old. He survived surgery and multiple regimines of chemo therapy, all because he said he still had more to accomplish. He lived to celebrate his 58th wedding anniversary with my mom, and almost made it to his 90th birthday. We have cried a little these last few days, but mostly we have laughed, because we had lots of stories to retell, and because that''s what he taught us to do. I am especailly grateful to Rev. John Warren and the friends at St. Paul UMC in Spartanburg, SC for allowing me to share a few thoughts at my dad's memorial service on Sunday, August 21, 2016.


Celebrating a Life Well-Lived 

That’s why we’ve gathered – even from the four corners of the earth. When John asked if I wanted to just be a daughter and sit in the pew, or if I had something to say. I told him that I’m a Luther, I always have something to say. 

I tell people all the time that as Christians we have to learn not to be afraid of death. There is sadness for ourselves, of course, because of what we’ve lost, but there is much more joy because of what we’ve had. Our dad taught us a lot about life, and so I’ve had some time to think about the lessons I have learned. These are not the only ones, but as I was halfway around the world, thinking about all of the best things about my life, these are the ones that bubbled to the top.

My dad taught us what we know about sports. It should not be a surprise that this made the list. Dad believed that sports in general taught important lessons about success in life. His first job out of college was coaching, but even later in life, he refereed, coached little kids, and brought baseball and hockey to the forefront of the communities where he lived. So we love lots of sports – basketball, baseball, and anything related to the Olympics. But I especially loved watching and talking football with him. Some of my best Sundays as a child were spent sitting in front of the TV, watching whatever professional teams were playing. That’s why I know the different between a sweep and blitz, and how to enjoy watching a play unfold before me on the screen, - often at 3AM - or even better, in person. But more importantly, he taught us that being on a team helps develop common goals, instills loyalty, and builds community. Each of us has our favorite teams, often in competition with one another, but no matter what, our love of sports and football will always hold us together, rather than push us apart.

Second lesson: My dad was pathologically punctual. We were taught that if you're on time, you're late. Often when we went to visit my grandparents in North Carolina, he would give us a leaving time, and then go sit in the car about 30 minutes before the designated departure. No surprise, we always left early. My sister shared a story about living with my parents one summer between college semesters and staying out a lot longer that Dad thought was appropriate. He was waiting when she quietly entered their Norfolk condo. He then informed her that coming in that late was not acceptable. She replied, "Dad, I stay out late at school all the time and I've never had a problem." His reply: "Well, that may be the way things work at college, but they don't work that way here." She said it was a lesson learned. Whether we still hold to those policies of promptness ourselves is not the point... we at least worry about being on time wherever we go.

Next lesson: You didn’t have to talk to my dad for long before he would begin telling a tale. Now we have all been given a list of stories not to share, but I can tell you that whatever we know about telling a good story, we learned from him.  Yesterday, we gathered at my brother’s house to share a meal or two, but mostly we told stories. Whenever we gather, phrases like "tell the one about..." or "remember when...?" are often heard as we sit around together. In this process, dad reminded us that stories don't just communicate facts, they also tell something about where we came from and who we have become.

Which leads me to the fourth lesson… We each learned what we know about taking care of people from him. I think that friends and family alike knew him to be tough, but fair. I’m sure those of you who knew him can think of a time when he demonstrated this trait, but I especially remember this one Christmas. We were gathered in Birmingham when my nephew Will was just a baby. On the 26th, we headed out to the local mall for shopping and lunch. On the way, we were witness to car versus pedestrian accident when a teenager tried to make it across the street against the light. Before we knew it, both of our cars had stopped in the nearest parking lot. Mom, decked out in a beautiful purple running suit, started directing traffic, BJ and I attended to injured teen and driver, and Ola kept the crowds out of the way. Eventually the police and ambulances arrived and we were thanked and sent on our way. Skipping the mall, we gathered around a couple of tables at Chili’s, looked at our menus and ordered drinks and lunch. After the chips and salsa arrived, we started eating as if nothing had happened. Being an inquisitive seminarian, I asked, “Aren’t we going to talk about what just happened?” My sister looked up and said something like this, “What is there to talk about? We just did what we were taught to do… help whatever way we can.” And how could I argue with that?

At 84, my mom & dad took Disciple bible study, a 34-week biblical overview with homework! My dad had often worked on Sundays and so this was my first knowledge of him doing anything like that. He loved telling me what he learned each week, and when it was cold and rainy and tempting to stay home, he headed out the door on Sunday afternoon, saying, “We have to go. I did my homework this week.” The fifth lesson he taught us, and perhaps the most important, is that you don't have to beat people over the head with your bible or talk about Jesus all the time to be a person of faith. Faith is about the way you live, every day, with every person you meet. He really was the embodiment of the Wesley mantra, “Do all the good you can to all the people you can in all the ways you can.”

I look into the congregation and I see this group of people gathered and I am in awe of what I see. You are those people who go to funerals. Many of you were friends of my dad. There's a couple who were in my parents' wedding, and friends who love them here in Spartanburg, There are friends from his work in Virginia and friends of me and my brother and sister from our childhood, for whom my dad was another sounding board and authority figure. But there are also a lot of people here who never met my dad, and your presence here honors him, because of your friendship with us, his legacy. And so I want to make a permanant reminder of this day, with all of your smiling faces in front of me. So say "Cheese" and give me a big smile!

The gospel message – the good news – is that God is down every road. We have each known God in all of our accomplishments and celebrations, in our disappointments and difficulties, and in the everyday moments when we forget that God is even here. So let us be reminded that we are not alone on this unknown road, and that God is always preparing the way for joy.

Peace, Deb

Sermon - Whatever happened to trust? (11th Sunday After Pentecost Year C)

Whatever happened to trust? (Proper 13 – Year C)                               July 31, 2016

Colossians 3:1-11, Luke 12:13-21                                       Panzer Liturgical Service

I’ll admit it. I have finally come to the place where I am almost afraid to watch the news. The crazy and sobering events of the last few weeks feel too close to home, and events that would normally be relegated to the page 7 of the local newspaper end up as breaking news events for on CNN and BBC. The first questions we ask when violence strikes are, “Has terror come again? Is it really here to stay?” As we live in Germany, we see recent violence striking in places that we have visited, and in places near the very town where we live.

But terror is not just about not-so-isolated attacks meant to strike fear in the hearts of everyday people. It also occurs in ways in which we have become immune. Did you know that in the first seven months of 2016 over 2,200 people have been victims of gun violence and 371 people have been murdered in the city of Chicago alone?[i] Did you know that this year there have been only 30 days when someone has not been murdered there?[ii]

This is not to say that the terror that we feel when there is violence on a local train, or outside a local restaurant, or when attending a local festival isn’t real… it is. But we often do not see or are not moved by the ways that violence has taken over our world. No community, no matter how small or peaceful, is immune to the simple truth that we live in a fallen world. It’s not the way we want it, and not the way God wants it, but we feel helpless to see past the realities before us.

Paul writes to the community in Colossae, where infighting and disagreement have taken over life. The people in this church have lost their way, being pulled apart by heresies which taken their focus away from what it means to be deeply devoted disciples of Jesus Christ. The exact details of their lost-ness are not enumerated in the letter, but it is clear that they have begun worshiping their religious practices and theology, not their Lord and Savior. The result is that they have lost their connection to Christ.[iii]

In the gospel reading from Luke, Jesus talks about the problem of a man who accumulates so much wealth that he focuses all of his efforts on making sure that he can hold it in reserve for the future, as if this would keep trouble from ever coming his way. Jesus story asks us to consider what the consequences are of taking care of only our needs and not living out our richness in the context of God’s generosity to us.

These are the problems of our lives. Our focus easily strays. We are easily lured into accepting theological and practical solutions that are most beneficial to us, no matter the consequences to others. We attribute to Jesus, God and scripture ideas that are often on the opposite side of the coin, phrases like “God helps those who help themselves,” actually penned by Benjamin Franklin, or “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” which is attributed to James Joyce in his book, Ulysses, written in 1922. It’s not that these are not good ideas in the appropriate context… but they aren’t a part of the gospel message

.

I’ve had a terrible time thinking about these two passages without making correlations to the current political and economic climate, not just in the US, but throughout the world. There is a constant battle between those who want governments that protect the status quo and those that to extend full citizenship to those who are other, or who have less, little or nothing than those who govern. We long of the “good old days” - whenever we think those were, and in our fear of the future, we hunker down for the calamity that the world tells us will come.

This passage from Luke is often associated with stewardship programs as a way to help people recognize their need to share a portion of their prosperity with their church family. But what if this story isn’t just about money, but also about the burden of isolation? The rich man doesn’t seem to be having conversation with anyone but himself… and I know from experience it’s pretty easy to convince myself of something if I never ask anyone else’s opinion.

This farmer is consumed with taking care of his own future. He has forgotten that there’s really nothing about his future that’s guaranteed. He can pull inward, build bigger barns and put away whatever he thinks will see him to the end of his life. But he can’t account for every disaster that might come… what if his barns burn down, or his crops get infected with a mold that makes them useless or even poison to those who try to work with them? What if he gets sick and can no longer tend his own bounty? What will he have then?

Jesus explains that despite our desire to make a secure future for ourselves is the antithesis of what it means to live for God – he calls that being rich toward God. Lutheran theologian David Lose frames it with this question: “…how can one be rich toward God without also – and quite frankly, first – being rich toward others? God, to paraphrase Martin Luther, needs neither our good works nor our wealth, but our neighbor does.”[iv] The richness of our lives is not defined by what we have, but how we live with others in community.

Remember, this parable actually starts with a question about unshared inheritance and broken community. Lots of families deal with this issue surrounding the death of parents and loved ones. Stuff has a lot of value, and not just monetarily. Stuff is about identity. Stuff is about status. Stuff is about identity. And if we’re not careful, stuff has a way of becoming a substitute for relationship, if we let it.

So Jesus’ point in telling this story is not just about what to do with our wealth. It is really about what to do with our lives. In over 300 places in the bible, we are told, “Do not be afraid.” Perhaps it’s a lesson that’s repeated over and over because fear comes so easily and is so hard to brush away. Fear is one of the biggest barriers to living a full life in Christ and a life filled with Christ. It’s the underlying theme in all of Jesus’ parables. Fear means separation and isolation. Trust in God, in Christ and in one another means life and defines what it means to be in community.

There is this whole genre of books, movies and TV shows that ask the question, “What will life be like if the world I know ends?” I have to admit they are a guilty pleasure of mine, but not for the reason you might imagine.[v] The best authors and writers don’t concentrate on the negatives but on how some people rise to the top to keep anarchy from reigning supreme over disaster. And the common threads running through my favorites are themes of sacrifice, sharing for the common good, and acceptance of those who are different as a way of affirming the goodness in life and affirming the future.

I love stories that underscore the value and even the necessity of being a part of a community. And I don’t think it’s enough to just have the same goals and values, because there are plenty of groups or communities that use fear to draw people in. Real community is born when people see that their own desires and ideas are not enough to keep a group going. Real community puts the needs of the many over the needs of the few… even Mr. Spock knew that.

Moving around so much, I have a bunch of crazy church-visiting stories. Places where when we got in the car, we looked at each other and said, “Let’s not come here again.” And everywhere we have been, we’ve found that just right place where we could live and serve Christ with others. But I also worry that people have left the churches I have served and said the same thing… that we weren’t able to be a place where they could see themselves growing and serving God and becoming a part of a family together.

When we commit our lives to Christ, it is not just about what we believe about who Jesus is or our ultimate landing place at the end of life. Committing our lives to Christ is about living for him, with him and in him. It’s a lot like marriage, where we are no longer “me” but now a part of “we.” And while it’s incredibly hard and challenging, it’s often joyful and fun at the same time.

Do you remember the movie “Cast Away” with Tom Hanks? He’s a FedEx official who is stranded on a deserted island after the plane he is on crashes. For a while, he holds on to the hope that he will be rescued. But soon, he is weighed down by the isolation of his situation and he is not only afraid, but soon becomes hopeless. Until Wilson comes along. Masquerading as a volleyball with a handprint face on the front, Wilson becomes his constant companion and confidant. Ultimately, Hank’s character is driven to attempt a reunion with civilization through a perilous sea when he tells Wilson, “I would rather take my chance out there on the ocean than to stay here and die.”

A life of faith is messy and challenging, but it is what we accept when we respond to Jesus’ call. A life of faith is not about safety, but about our willingness turn our lives over to him and to one another. Trust in God and in one another comes only when we put our former lives behind us and commit fully to him. And our best selves are truly made real when we are willing to live that life together.

Eugene Peterson spent years translating the underlying meaning of biblical passages into the language we use to talk to one another today, and we see it in his translation, The Message. If you look at verses 1-3 in the Colossians reading from today and listen to the way that Eugene lays it out for us, it’s hard to deny that Jesus is asking us to do something extraordinary.

 So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective. Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. (Colossians 3:1-4 The Message)

I started with the question, “Whatever happened to trust?” and I’ve been reminded that trust is a choice. It comes when we commit to community, and when we accept that challenge to become a part of the solution to the problems and worries that surround us. Trust comes when we understand and believe that God has given us this new life with great purpose and great possibility. May we together take steps toward God and one another, learning to trust again along the way.

Amen.

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[i] http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/breaking/ct-5-dead-40-wounded-in-weekend-shootings-20160725-story.html

[ii] https://www.dnainfo.com/chicago/2016-chicago-murders/timeline?mon=2

[iii] http://www.jesuswalk.com/colossians/0_intro.htm

[iv] http://www.davidlose.net/2016/07/pentecost-11-c-from-isolation-to-community/

[v] The Last Ship on TNT and Jericho on CBS are special favorites of mine. 

Sermon - We Have a Heart Problem, Folks (8th Sunday after Pentecost - Year C)

Pentecost 8 – Year C (Proper 10)                                              July 10, 2016

Luke 10:25-37, Colossians 1:1-14                         Panzer Liturgical Service

It turns out that context is everything. If I were pastoring a congregation in the States, I think my sermon might reflect conversations that had already started during thing, maybe at meetings or public prayer gatherings. The recent events of killings in Baton Rouge, St Paul/Minneapolis and Dallas, have once again stirred the pot of discord in our country. They are evidence that both sides of the argument are right… we don’t just have a gun problem; we also have a heart problem. But this heart problem isn’t just evident in America… look at the paper or listen to the news every day and somewhere someone has acted on their distrust of other members of the human race out of fear and hatred of those who are “other.”

We live in a world where assumptions are made every day about people’s character – on whether they are good or evil – solely based on the views they take on social, political or religious issues. We assume that we know everything about someone just because we know something. In many years as a pastor, during my years related to the US military community, and with the experience of living in a foreign country, I am more convinced than ever that any assumptions I make about people will probably be wrong.

This is only the second time in 26 years of ministry that I have preached on these texts. I find this encounter with Jesus one of the most memorable and defining moments in the gospels. I don’t think I would be exaggerating if I said I think about this conversation and the parable that follows every day. Jesus’ question in response to a question is radically relevant to my life, and to yours. These are our queries for today: Who is my neighbor? And what does love look like?

Today we encounter Jesus in conversation with a member of the following crowd.  Now there were two kinds of people who showed up whenever Jesus was around… the many who were desperately in need of what he had to share, and the few who wanted to trip him up.  The desperate ones were usually not members of polite society.  They were poor, lame, or diseased.  They were shunned, shamed and forgotten.  They were the woman who touched Jesus’ garment for healing, lepers who had spent much of their lives in solitude, people with shady backgrounds or occupations – In short, the outcasts of the world.

The ones who wanted to trip him up were the people who saw Jesus as a threat.  The one we encounter today is introduced as a scribe – a traveling judge dispensing legal advice on complicated matters of the law and its interpretations through hundreds of years.  His question seems to be as much about challenging Jesus’ honor as testing his knowledge of the Law.  This is not about personal salvation - It is much bigger than that.  His question is really about “Who is in?” and “Who is out?” of the Kingdom of God.

And to this expert, Jesus replies – love God with everything you have – heart, soul, strength & mind – and love your neighbor as yourself.  This statement implies that no part of us or our lives is to be withheld from God.  There is no compartmentalizing in God’s world… no such thing as a personal or professional… no sense that faith is only lived on Sunday.  Indeed, when one loves God fully, life is lived out in service to others as a natural extension of that love… we can do nothing else.  The scribe, a lawyer, is indeed well read.  But Jesus’ answer shows us that knowing about God or the law is not enough.  Real love of God is found in living the commandments in everything we do.  Real love of God is about being “all in.”

The scribe’s follow-up question, “Who is my neighbor?” is meant to push Jesus out on a limb, exposing him to the judgment of the religious elite.  But Jesus does not back down.  He answers the question by telling the story we all know so well, but with a twist the crowd is not expecting.  Our story’s twist:  the hero of the story is by all accounts the enemy.  Samaritans were other, outsiders, unclean and unacceptable.  But by making this man the one who lived within the commandments of God, Jesus smashes through all the conventional excuses for separation.  Race, religion & region (or nationality) – they count for nothing with Jesus. The Priest and the Levite have perfectly good excuses for not helping the stranger on the side of the road. But this Samaritan risks everything by showing compassion for a stranger, shattering all stereotypes in the process.^[i]

Jesus is teaching us that neighbors are not bound by social boundaries or class divisions.  Mercy is not the product of a calculating heart, nor eternal life the reward for following the rules.  We don’t love our neighbors to punch our ticket to heaven.  Being a neighbor is what we do in response to the gift of eternal life that is already ours through Jesus Christ.  Eternal life is the promise.  Loving God and neighbor is the “thank you” note we write with our lives every day.

Now with parables, it’s natural to see ourselves in the characters, and this one is no different.  Upon first reading, I want desperately to see myself in the role of the Samaritan – a helper and friend to those in need.  But as I study it more and more, I see in myself much more of the other characters in the story. 

I see myself often too busy to stop and help, even when I see I need that I can meet with little delay in my schedule.  I see myself sometimes afraid of what others will think of me if they see me relating to someone outside my tiny, comfortable world.  I see myself at times alone and battered by life, wondering if anyone really cares about my pain, my loneliness, my isolation.  I see myself doing something for someone else, only to realize that I am getting a lot more out of it than I feel I am giving.^[ii]

We can easily be lured into thinking of Jesus as a kindly Savior, one whose friendship assures us of a place in heaven.  We are comfortable with the idea of someone who saves us from our sins… and ourselves.  But it’s always a surprise that Jesus rarely talked about that kind of stuff. 

Jesus didn’t come to make sure that things stayed the way they had always been.  Whether we like it or not, Jesus came to change the world - to challenge the status quo.  Prevailing religious wisdom said that following the letter of the law would save the world – some of us live that way today.  Instead, Jesus asked the people (and us) to follow two commandments:  First, to love God with everything we have.  And then, as a natural outpouring of that relationship, to love our neighbors as much as we love ourselves.  In a nutshell, the 613 laws from the Torah and thousands of interpretations all boil down to one simple command – just LOVE.

This week’s violence, in the US and in other countries, is evidence of a heart sickness that is in opposition to all that Jesus modeled. For sure, none of us here are the ones who carried out the violence we read about or see on TV. But are we willing to walk by, stand by, and do nothing to help? Are the stories we share or the conversations we have reflecting the person God intends us to be or merely a way to make us feel better about maintaining the status quo? Are we so afraid for our own safety and status that we are offended by movements that seek to lift people out of their stereotypes and identify them are beloved children of God, and in the US, under the equal protection of the US Constitution?

We are being called into relationship with all of our neighbors. And that is hard, because the world is telling us that people who are different are evil or of lesser value, all because of how they dress, or worship, or which political party or candidate they support or who they love. When I think of all that I would miss out on by only hanging out with people like me – that would be one boring life, for sure. I think that is one of the things that brought me to where I am now.

Several years before I was called to go to seminary, I worked with a youth mission project in my home state of South Carolina. Starting in the early 1980’s a minister friend starting taking high school youth and adult helpers into poor, rural communities to help families with small construction projects in their homes. Sometimes these houses had no electricity. Some had no running water. Most had leaking roofs and sagging floors. Often many generations lived under the same roof. For many of us, it was as close to living with people from a different race than we had ever come before.

Those weeks were life-changing, for the youth and for the adults. Once I had a parent ask where I left her son, because the teen who came home looked like someone she had given birth to, but was a totally different person. One year, I worked with another adult and 8 teens to clean up a lot where a very elderly woman lived in a trailer, with no power and no bathroom. We cleared away 10 truckloads of trash to the dump. We built a shelter over the trailer to keep the rain from coming in because it was too far gone to repair. We dug a hole 6 feet deep and built an outhouse so she wouldn’t have to use a pickle bucket from Hardee's as a toilet.

We worked hard in the Low Country heat and sun and we were proud of all the work we had done. So imagine our dismay when we returned the next morning to see yesterday’s trash littering the yard. Those kids were mad. I was sad. And in our evening gathering they wanted to know why they should go back and work another day if she didn’t appreciate all that they had done for her. And from somewhere outside my own sadness and frustration, I was able to remind them that God called us to love her because she needed love, not because we needed to be appreciated. And we cried together. And we prayed for God to change our hearts so that we could go back the next day and do whatever needed to be done.

At the end of each sermon, we say the words of the Creed… Credo… I believe. I think as much as anything, this parable reminds us that a life of faith is not just about having the right beliefs. It’s also about living those beliefs every day. It’s about seeing a need and responding, no matter who it is. And this is hard, hard work that happens over time. Anglican Bishop and New Testament scholar N.T. Wright says, "Character is a slowly forming thing. You can no more force character on someone than you can force a tree to produce fruit when it isn't ready to do so. The person has to choose, again and again, to develop the moral muscles and skills which will shape and form the fully flourishing character."[iii]

Different is not bad… more and more often, I am reminded that different is good. It helps me to grow outside of my own self-important little world. Always and never are words we rarely use anymore, because we experience more and more that is different than what we are used to. More and more, we expect the unexpected. And in the process, the world has gotten bigger and smaller at the same time, however that is possible.

Radical obedience to God’s commandment of love is a lifetime’s work.  It’s hard.  It’s scary.  It’s uncomfortable.  But that’s the job.  Paul’s greeting to the Colossians is a just a fitting reminder and encouragement for us today.

… Be assured that from the first day we heard of you, we haven’t stopped praying for you, asking God to give you wise minds and spirits attuned to his will, and so acquire a thorough understanding of the ways in which God works. We pray that you’ll live well for the Master, making him proud of you as you work hard in his orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work. We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us.. Colossians 1:9-12 (The Message)

Amen.

Peace, Deb

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[i] Culpepper, Alan, “Luke,” The New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume IX, Abingdon Press (Nashville:1995), pp 226-232.

[ii] Inspired by a reflection by Kathryn Matthews Huey, http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/july-14-2013.html.

[iii] N.T. Wright, After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters,

What I learn from teaching Confirmation again and again and again...

I just finished teaching my second Confirmation preparation class at our military chapel. The last four months have been filled with classes and conversations about what it means to live a Christian life. 

I have a long history of worshiping and volunteering in military chapels. It's always an interesting experience. In some places, I'm just another military spouse who happens to have theological training. In others, I have been invited to participate in ways that feel much like "doing church." This is our second time in Stuttgart and the first time we were here I came in anonymous. I was able to scope out my areas of interest and share my background on my terms. This time it was different. We walked into the same chapel eight years later and some of the people we had known from before were either still here or had also returned. So much for anonymity!

At the end of the first service, my friend Rick asked me if I would be willing to talk about starting a confirmation class. There were several youth who had spent the bulk of their middle and high school years in military chapels, where access to Confirmation classes is limited, at best. For the next several months, we had conversation and made a plan. And in January 2015, we started our journey with 8 high school youth - all of them baptized as infants - Methodists, Episcopalians, and UCC young people who gathered to learn about the theology and history of the church.

I've always taken the perspective that Confirmation is a rite of passage. It is a time when youth affirm for themselves the promises made at their baptisms. It is a time for them to learn in more detail what it means to walk on the Way of Christ. But has also been a time to affirm their home church traditions. 

Some of our religious communities ask questions like, "When were you saved?" and "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?" and those are good questions. But within many traditions, those questions are not a great starting place. I remember the lovely folks who visited my dorm room ?*&# years ago when I was a college freshman and asked those same questions. I didn't have a clue what they were talking about, because I never remember a time when Jesus wasn't a part of my life.

And I've always wanted the youth I know to have better answers than I did.  My desire has always been for these youth to understand that God chose them first and their faith in him is an amazing response to all the ways that we have been loved and nurtured, inside and outside of the church.

Some people say that once they've read a book, they never need to read it again. The same is often true of bible studies... we learn the things we need and keep moving forward to the next great lesson. But every Confirmation class starts with the same basic requirements that grow and change according to the needs of the individuals in the class. 

So we talk about God and Jesus, we talk about justification and sanctification, we talk about the history of the Christian church and we talk about liturgy and spiritual disciplines, acts of service and acts of mercy. I remind them often that confirmation is not a graduation but a beginning. I tell them that anyone who says that the Christian life is easy is lying, and this the work of being a Christian will be hard almost every day of their lives.

I hope they remember a few of the things we talked about. And I hope with them, as I have with every group I have ever worked, that my own successes and failures at being a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ hasn't confused them or messed them up too badly.

Teaching confirmation, more than anything, reminds me of the basics of what it means to be a Christian... to keep the main thing the main thing... Love the Lord and love your neighbor... and when you've mastered those, then go on to more complicated theological concepts.

I am so grateful for these wonderful youth, who have willingly shared their own faith experiences and their questions of what might be required of them. I am in awe of their parents, who made our classes a priority and reinforced our weekly lessons with family projects and discussions. And I am thankful for the opportunity to share some of my own gifts, just as God intended me to do.

Peace, Deb
May 2016

Sermon - Called to new life - (3rd Sunday After Pentecost C)

Just when you wonder if you did a good job interpreting the texts, someone tells you how much encouragement your sermon gave them... we are always our own worst critics. Last week was super crazy - family company from the States, three birthday celebrations and hosting a party on Saturday took a toll. I wrote this sermon on Wednesday and never really touched it again. I hope you can take something helpful from it.... Deb

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C          June 5, 2016
1 Kings 17:7-24; Galatians 1:11-19; Luke 7:11-17                 Panzer Liturgical Service

Called to New Life

God is the original author of new life. He spoke a word at creation, and breathed life and light into a world of chaos and darkness. Through the works of his prophets, he proclaimed the good news that all was not lost. When we read through the stories of the bible, we see the upheaval created by the reality of human sin. But we also experience startling moments of clarity… moments when we have no doubt that God is totally capable of doing miraculous things.

The three passages for today reflect to us various understandings about new life for the people of God. In the reading from 1 Kings, we see Elijah giving unending food to the widow and her son, raising him from the dead and providing for their every need. In the letter to the Galatians, we hear Paul describing his change of heart and how his ministry went from being one of destroying the early church to becoming a singular instrument of encouragement and growth. In the gospel of Luke, we see Jesus raising to life the son of a widow, this time with only a word, and ironically almost identical to the story from 1 Kings.

In his book, 90 Minutes in Heaven, Pastor Don Piper relates the story of his own death in a car accident in Texas in 1989. For over one hour his lifeless body remained in the car where he perished. A passing minister and friend received a word from God to pray for the man in the car as traffic stopped for the accident. Miraculously, in the midst of the prayer, life returned to Don’s body. Before the prayer, Don experienced the fullness of heaven’s splendor, and was actually devastated at being ripped from the pure joy back to a life destined to be filled with pain. Don’s story of being raised from the dead is a testament to the power of prayer, the faithfulness of God’s people to care for one another, and the authority that God has over life and death. For over 13 months he barely endured, bed-ridden, hospitalized with over 30 surgeries, and burdened with months of agonizing rehabilitation. Over and over he asked, “God, why did you bring me back to life?” And the answer was always the same, “I did it because I love you and because it testifies to who I am.”

Jesus raised the son of the widow, not because he deserved to be raised, but because God chose it as a way to show people who He is. It not only changed the life of the man who had been dead, but also especially changed the widow’s life. In first century Palestine, and even in parts of the Middle East and Africa today, widows are persons without power or property. Their identity was grounded in their role as wife and mother. The death of a husband would be a devastating thing, but the subsequent death of male children would leave a woman with no status at all. So Jesus’ actions have great consequence for this family. Once again, she is a person with status. Even the people gathered around the funeral procession said in wonder, “Look at how God is working to meet the needs of his people.”

First Lesson: New life is about turning ourselves wholly over to God. I hope that this woman will always know that she is living in a new reality. She has been given a chance at new life. Don Piper understands that his ministry is different because of his experience and what he has endured. He knows what pain is, and what it means to be depressed, alone and afraid. So his testimony is pure when he says, “God was with me all the way. This new life of mine belongs to God, and I’ll live it for him until I can go back to the heaven I experienced for a brief moment in time.”

Second lesson: New life is about trusting God to meet our needs. How many people would be willing to do as the widow in 1 Kings 17 – to share perhaps her family’s last meal with a stranger who promised the unbelievable?  The people of Israel were enduring a long drought when Elijah was led by God to the land of Sidon, east of the Jordan. There God sent Elijah to a widow who was gathering sticks to make a fire to prepare a final meal for her and her son from the last of her supplies. Elijah asks her to feed him, too, promising that God would not allow her flour and oil to run out until rain had come to the land. She did as she was asked, not knowing the outcome, but believing in Elijah’s word of promise, which was God’s word, too. Even when her son later dies, Elijah is there meet her needs. He cries out to God for intervention, and life is returned to the son. As in Luke, the widow is once again a person of status.

Often our needs are being met in ways that we do not comprehend or see. Sometimes the pain we endure and the suffering we experience can be the path by which we recognize our need for God. Blessings come in unexpected times and places. Sometimes we expect the worst and downward spiral turns upward to renewed hope. And even in the midst of tragedy, we catch glimpses of God turning darkness in ways we never imagined or expected.

In the movie “A Stranger’s Heart,” a young woman waits in the hospital for a heart transplant. Her life has been sad in many ways. Her mother died when she was a small child and she was raised by a father that never really got over the loss of his partner and soul mate. She suffered from a congenital heart defect that severely reduced her ability to participate in life as she wanted. Surrounded by other patients also waiting for transplants, she began to see that maybe she had given up on life too soon, and she wept for the opportunities that she had never taken because she was afraid to take a chance. Soon enough, she received a new heart, and soon was on her way to physical healing.

But Callie is unprepared for the emotional trauma that her new heart brings to her life. She knows that she wants to be more present to life’s opportunities, but she really doesn’t know how to begin. One day, she is resting on a park bench when she is strangely drawn to a young girl playing nearby. Without any explanation, she finds that she needs to know more about her and eventually figures out that she has received the heart of the young girl’s mother. In time, she believes that her growing love for this young girl has been embedded in the heart that she received, and is pouring out into her life, teaching her an unconditional love she has never known.

Scientists are skeptical that the individual and collective cells in our bodies have memories of what we know and do, even amidst the anecdotal reports from transplant recipients. My purpose in sharing this story with you is not to question the scientific validity of such ideas, but to impose on them instead a spiritual dimension. What if the new life that we receive through Jesus Christ gives us ways to love that we never experienced before? We are burdened in our own spiritual doubts and frustrations, absorbed with our own needs, mostly not seeing or responding to the needs of others. What if this new life – new life in Christ - gives us new eyes, new hearts, and new hands, all given solely to serve the God who has given us a second or seventieth chance at living?

Paul’s journey to Jesus is well-recorded in the book of Acts 9 – how he persecuted the church, how he was on the road to Damascus, literally knocked off his well-intentioned pedestal and blinded by the light of God’s presence. Only after three days was Paul’s vision restored, and with it, a new heart for God beat in his chest. This heart understood his call as God’s chosen instrument, to proclaim Jesus as the way, truth and life. Paul’s life was totally turned around, and his life journey reminds us that God can change anyone’s heart.

Third lesson: New life is about living our lives in a new way, believing that it is our relationship with God that gives our lives their real meaning. Maybe that’s what happened to Callie – her heart was opened up to all the possibilities that she couldn’t see before. Life was hers for the living, not to squander away, but to serve and love others in response to the love that God has for us.

Most of us will never have a family member raised from the dead, but we can get glimpses of God’s glory in healing of body, mind or spirit. Most of us will not be asked to give the last of our food to someone that we barely know or trust, all in response to promises we don’t even know can be kept. But we do all have the opportunity to turn our hearts and our lives over to God, to experience the memories of God’s love for God’s world and to act them our every day.

Jesus didn’t raise this woman’s son because he felt sorry for her. It went much deeper than that. Jesus dared to enter this woman’s world, unrecognized and uninvited. With just a word, he made a new future for a family that only had a past. And this moment of transformation changed the lives of many, not just the widow and her son. Even the surrounding crowd knew that something miraculous has happened.

In our own experiences of new life, like Paul, we are called to set aside our former lives and turn to a new path and new calling. It’s too easy to accept Christ, and then keep living our lives the ways we always have. But despite indications to the contrary, we are asked to live in solidarity with those whose lives are more vulnerable than our own lives and to help make new life possible through our work together. New life changes not only our destination, but our paths along the way.

These are not just stories about what God did for other people. They are also the blueprints of what God does for us… raising us to new life every day. And in the process, God has the ability to help us discern how we are to serve those who are in need. In concert with our spiritual and physical gifts, we are called to practice compassion and to be in partnership with God in the ongoing work of transformation.(2)  The love to which God’s calls us is a love that is seen, lived out every day in the lives of people who don’t live their faith in secret, but for everyone to see. Christian love is a love that is inclusive, gathering in all people; even those we assume might be excluded because of previous assumptions and ideas about who is in and who is outside the Kingdom of God. New life in Christ calls us to a love that is active, bearing fruit in our lives – like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.(3)


And so with the witness of these people before us, I say to you, “People of God, rise! You have been called to new life.” Amen!

Peace, Deb

1- Don Piper, 90 Minutes in Heaven
2- Pulpit Fiction Podcast – show notes Episode 170.

3- Steve Scott, “A Lasting Legacy of Love,” Holy Cross Lutheran Church and School website, http://holycrosslutheran.net/sermons/a-lasting-legacy-of-love-john-15-9-17/ 

Mother - noun and verb...

This started out as a Facebook post, but kept bouncing around in my mind all night, so I decided to expand on my original thoughts... 

Mother: (noun) a term of address for a female parent or a woman having or regarded as having the status, function, or authority of a female parent... (verb) to perform the tasks or duties of a female parent

I never had any children of my own, but I don't feel like something is missing. I was 35 when I got married, and it took another six years for us to figure out if we were ready to have kids. By then, it just didn't happen, and after a lot of prayer and conversation, we decided that being a family of two would be just right.

After all, I've been mothering others most of my life, and count it as blessing all of those who have been a part of my classes or bible studies, and those who have come to me for a listening ear or comforting shoulder. I'm an aunt, I've served four church communities, volunteered in seven local churches and two military chapels, and been a military spouse mentor for the last 21 years... and most days, it all feels like mothering... sometimes complete with poopy diapers and quarreling children. 

I came to Facebook about seven years ago, after resisting for a long while. In truth, I joined because I wanted to keep an eye and ear out for some of my military spouses who were having a rough go of it. Following their profiles and connecting with messages, emails or calls felt more present than just waiting to find out something bad or good had happened that day. I was content with my little group of about 50 friends... until one day, someone outside my Air Force family found me. 

My first appointment after seminary was at a large United Methodist congregation near Charleston, SC. I stayed there for five years, meeting and marrying my husband, and then ultimately moving away when the Air Force called. It's been sixty years since our denomination began ordaining women, but even 35 years later, there were some days that being a women minister felt like a burden. But at the same time, I understood intently the need for women's leadership in the life of the church. Over 20 years later, I see the had of God moving through my ministry and the ministry of other women in the life of the church. 

My first summer there, I was planning with our youth ministry team for the opening dinner, and in addition to the skit that the youth put on each year, I decided that we would open with a short liturgy that included scriptural passages that would be our theme for the year. I asked a youth from each of the 6 grades to participate in reading and leading, and remember distinctly choosing a rising 7th grader to read the passage for 1 Corinthians 13.

And when she got to the part of the passage where Paul talks about his spiritual growth, she said,  "When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, reason like a child, think like a child. But now that I have become a woman, I’ve put an end to childish things" ... well it blew me away. I actually got tears in my eyes. And when I asked her about it, she told me that it felt right to her and she thought God was OK with it, too. 

That teenager, now in her 30's, was the first church person to find me on Facebook. And when she found me, the gates just opened up. Many of those kids, their parents and other church members have shared memories of turning points in their faith journeys, and have told me about the way their faith remains real today, even as they are spread all over the place. I love seeing their families and watching them wrestle with what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. And I thank God every day that I got to be a part of their journey... and am hopeful (and thankful) that the mistakes of my young ministry did not mess them up too badly.

In the days when I thought about not bearing children of my own, I knew that God had called me to mother in different ways. No, I haven't carried a baby in my body. No, I haven't spent years sleep-deprived from colicky babies and changes thousands of diapers, but I have celebrated new life that has come to many families and I have wept with those whose idea of family was not realized in the ways that they expected. And in the joy and in the sorrow, I have kept a mother's heart.

And so I can be joyful when a preschooler asks, "Where are your kids?" I am happy with my answer, "I don't have any kids of my own... can I borrow you if I need one?"  I can be confident in responding to those who express sadness that I never experienced motherhood with a reassurance to them that God has fulfill my need to mother in the lives of countless church and military friends who need someone to be present with them in all the days of their lives.

Seven years ago, my 11-year old nephew came to visit us in Oklahoma for a week. We worked on boy scout merit badges a lot of the time, but I think he was ready to go home after about 3 days, so we spent a lot of time talking about random things in the four days he had left. One night he asked, "Aunt Deb, if you don't have any kids, whose going to take care of you when you get old?" I replied, "I guess our nieces and nephews will have to take care of us. What do you think about that?" And without batting an eye he said, "I'll do it... my sister can take care of my mom and dad... I think you guys would be easier."

As I write on this day after Mother's Day, I want to thank all the women who mothered me at different times in my life - my mom, my mother-in-law, my grandmothers, aunts and sisters, and countless friends who received me and loved me, just the way I am... and helped me to grow stronger in character and faith along the way.

At our wedding, Shawn and I chose the hymn "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" as our entrance hymn. My favorite verse has been changed in many other hymnals, but in the United Methodist hymnal, the fourth verse is my favorite:

Praise to the Lord, who doth nourish thy life and restore thee,

fitting thee well for the tasks that are ever before thee.

Then to thy need God as a mother doth speed,

spreading the wings of grace o'er thee. 

Like God, that is what mothers are call to do... spread grace. 

Peace, Deb

Sermon - Life Ripples in a Pond (Easter 6 C)

Sixth Sunday of Easter, (Year C)                                                                   May 1, 2016

Acts 16:9-15; John 14:23-29

Have you ever been a missionary? I have a few friends who have done that. Dave and Kristin from seminary spent over 10 years in ministry in Lithuania, reestablishing United Methodist churches after the fall of communism in the 1990’s. Their children were born there, and the relationships they nurtured there built there brought lifelong friendships. Their mission efforts helped to raise a church that had been in hiding for 50 years, and the church is now being served by local Lithuanian pastors alongside one missionary family who continue their work.

I have another friend who grew up in a missionary family overseas. It has greatly influenced her life. She sees being in mission, not as a just as a finite call with a beginning and an end, but as a way of life. Mission was not just what happened when you were in church or bible study. It wasn’t just about helping people know who Jesus is and inviting him into their lives. It was about being with them in everyday tasks and helping Christ be present there, also. And it was about adsorbing from her host country all the ways that God was working, even as it was different from the way that people in the US experienced God.

We are getting ready to celebrate Ascension Day this Thursday… you will know that it’s a special day because the stores will be closed and people will take a day away from work. In German, it is “Himmelfahrt”… literally heaven travel… Jesus, leaving behind the burdens and trappings of the world as ascending to his rightful place in heaven. In his last words to his follower, Jesus commanded, “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I’ve commanded you. Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age” (Matthew 28:19-20).

During this season of Eastertide, we have been following the story of the early church as we read through the book of Acts. We have seen the disciples struggle and grow as they worship and are taught by the risen Jesus. We have met Paul, as he is converted from persecuting Jewish leader to Christian teacher and leader. We have seen the struggle that the church has figuring out how to blend the Jewish and Gentile Christian communities and make unified expectations for all. This week we see Paul pushing the bounds of the Christian community outward from Jerusalem – out of the Middle East, out of Asia and into Europe.

Today’s lesson from Acts is a powerful portrait of how Easter faith gives rise to a desire to spread the good news. Paul’s mission is making its way northwestward, through Asia Minor and onto the continent of Europe. He had tried to go east, further into Asia, toward Ephesus, a center of cultural and trade activity. But several times he was stopped by different circumstances, which he saw as roadblocks put up by God to send him in another direction.

Paul’s call to Macedonia comes in the form of a vision, Luke’s reminder of the extraordinary nature of our bidding to go out in God’s name. With this dramatic event, the mission to Europe begins, and Paul must feel that nothing will ever be the same. The gospel is moving out of familiar territory where the Pauline gospel is well established.  It is moving into uncharted waters. It is as if the events of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection were a big rock, thrown into a pond, rippling out to reach all the world.

We often think of Paul as a hater of women, or at least unappreciative. People have used some of Paul’s writings to prove that women were not equal to men in matters of faith and leadership. But this story is one which reminds us that the issues of faith are not always black and white. Lydia’s conversion reminds us that God will call whom God will call, and the all of us, man, woman, youth, and child, are opening to the changing power of God’s grace.

Lydia, a woman of means, probably a merchant and leader in the community, encounters Paul and his companions at a place of prayer by the river. The authenticity of her response is indicated by the eagerness with which she responded to Paul’s sharing. Both she and her household were converted, and the genuineness of her conversion is reflected in her hospitality. When they hesitate, she teaches them by asking them to judge her by nothing but the realness of her faith. So we shouldn’t be surprised that after Paul and Silas are released from prison at the end of Chapter 16, they go back to Lydia’s house, and find that faith in the Christian life has already grown in the town, and that a house church has been established, with Lydia as the driving force.

There are so many aspects of this passage which appeal to me. It reflects the radical nature of the gospel in that the message is available to all who will listen and let it change their lives. Think about it. Paul, one of the chief tellers of the faith story, has been sharing the story of the Messiah within the traditional Judaic framework. When he arrived in a town, he went to the synagogue, because he knew that there would be people there who shared a common foundation with him and with Christ… belief in the God of the Jews.  And he talked to the men, because they were the leaders in the society, and could help him gain access into other parts of people’s lives.

But when Paul got outside the region of Asia, he encountered a different set of circumstances. Here, the place of prayer was not in a synagogue but by the river. And the people, mainly women, were probably not gathered in formal worship, but sat together sharing stories of life and faith. Maybe it was a shock to encounter a situation so different… maybe not. But Paul and company never debated on whether to share the good news. They didn't flinch or hold a conversation about how to handle the situation -- they just sat down and started talking. They met Lydia, a Gentile woman who quickly became the first European convert to Christianity (thus in our Euro-centric congregation, our mother in the faith).

For many years, this passage has been lifted up to affirm the ministry and leadership of women in the church. Lydia’s ministry within the community at Phillipi gained a good reputation and supported Paul in his further missionary travels. They took care of people in their community. They witnessed to the love of God. They used the gifts that God gave them to do the work of Christ. And they set a pattern for leadership that can be followed even today.

Ministry opportunities comes to us in all shapes and sizes. And often we do not recognize them for what they are… divine calls from God. We are so busy, so distracted, by the worries of our world that we do not see the people that God is calling us to walk beside. If we think to ask how someone is doing, we are more than likely thinking of how troubled our own lives are… seriously, when you are telling me the struggles that you are going through, I am having to work so hard to not say, “Well, you think you’ve got it hard… here’s what I’m dealing with…”

Too often I am not present enough in my day to ask myself these questions: God, how are you speaking to me through this encounter? What do you want me to take with me and what do you want me to leave behind? What am I meant to learn from this – how do you want me to change from this conversation, and sharing another’s story?

These questions matter because they make an assumption that most of us are unlikely to make… that God is traveling with us along the course of our days. Too often, our own inner monologue is drowning out the voice of God calling us to think less about our own need to be center stage and more on hearing and responding to the needs and pain of others. Can we hear God telling us to be open to a new plan and new challenges, ones that we didn’t expect or even want for ourselves? Are we willing to hear a call and just go – and are we ready to receive the gifts that come with unexpected encounters and their mysterious way of helping us take new and grace-filled paths?[i]

In our gospel lesson, Jesus gives us the promise of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, which is a very interesting part of the work that the Holy Spirit does. We are able to see the Spirit as Comforter, because it’s often our first experience. But to know the Spirit as Advocate, that’s a much more unsettling way to experience God.  Bruce Cromwell reminds us:

Beyond believing that God still speaks, we then need to believe that God knows whom to call, and why…By the gift of the Holy Spirit, God gives us spiritual gifts in addition to our natural talents and skills.  And so when God has work to do in the world, women and men are called and equipped to do that work.  We simply have to faithfully respond to that call.  When ministry in the church in the world falls short, nine times out of ten it’s because one or two or ten of us have a hard time believing that God would ever, that God could ever, choose us to do something worthwhile and of significance for His Kingdom.[ii]

Imagine their surprise when two Air Force Academy cadets discovered that the janitor that had been cleaning up after them for the last two years was actually a Medal of Honor recipient from World War 2. When they asked him if he was the soldier they read about, he replied simple, “Yep, that’s me.” “Why didn’t you tell us?” they asked. He slowly replied after some thought, “That was one day in my life and it happened a long time ago.” At a loss for words, they sped off to class, but shared the news with everyone in their squadron.

After that, things were never the same. No longer was he “the janitor.” Students regularly stopped to talk to Mr. Crawford and invited him to formal occasions. Not only did it change the students, but it also made a difference to Mr. Crawford, who seemed to walk a little taller and offer them words of encouragement throughout the year.[iii] 

There are many lessons of leadership to be learned from the story, but it is also a great portrait of what it means to be a person of faith. Mr. Crawford’s heroic actions saved lives in 1943 and changed the lives of Air Force Cadets over 40 years later. And it makes me think about how the things that happen in one day in my life now could still be sending out ripples, long after I have stopped talking about or even remembering them.

Think of a still pond on a cloudy day. And gradually it begins to gently rain. See the ripples on the water? They reach out and keep spreading until they meet up with another ring, and then they head back to where they started. The history of the church is filled with the stories of people of all descriptions who have lived out their faith in the best way they could. Sometimes we feel like the only drop in the pond. Other times, the rain is coming so fast we cannot see where our rings end and where others begin.

Lydia’s faith was made strong by listening to Paul tell the story. The town of Phillipi grew strong in faith by seeing the witness of her call. And as we hear the story, we too grow in faith and belief.

What are the ripples of faith that have reached you? Have they changed you enough to help you be a ripple maker, too?  No matter where we are in our journeys, let us be reminded that if we are willing to see them, God’s ripples of love and grace are witness to the fact that we are called to be a witness and channel of the transforming power of God.

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[i] “On Macedonia and Being Open to God's Vision,” Janet H. Hunt, Dancing With the Word, April 24, 2016. http://words.dancingwiththeword.com/2016/04/on-macedonia-and-being-open-to-gods.html

[ii] A Plain Account, Bruce N. G. Cromwell, April 25, 2016

http://www.aplainaccount.org/#!Acts-16915/bhul0/571e11d70cf26b6d6841eee6

Commentary on Acts 16:9-15, Mitzi J. Smith, May 1, 2016.

[iii] “Leadership and the Janitor,” James Moschgat, USO On Patrol, Fall 2010.

See also: https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2829