To be braver and stronger than before …

When was the first time you realized that your parents were human? Not like you thought they were aliens before, but human in the way that they were not perfect and sometimes made mistakes. It happens to all of us – and it’s sobering and sad and maybe even makes us mad.

After that moment, we realize that we have agency. We have choices. We get to look at things from our own perspectives and make decisions that our parents wouldn’t make. And while it’s freeing, but it’s also scary. We can no longer rely only on the things that we have always believed or be bound to the way that things have always been. It means we have to do our own work to in figuring out the big questions of our lives.

I walked in a peace demonstration in Washington, DC the weekend after the Gulf War started, January 1991. Will Willimon was the Dean of Duke Chapel and he called me into his office and told me to reserve two vans from the motor pool and fill them up with students to represent the university and the chapel. And because I was his intern, I did just what he said. It was a holy day, and on the way home, I realized that this was a privilege that might not so easily be available to me anytime soon. 

It was a formative experience, but I didn’t talk about it with anyone in my new church because I got burned as soon as I got home. I shared my trip with my parents, who were not just worried that it would endanger my ability to get an appointment, they were mad. They felt that I had dishonored my dad’s service in the Army and all of those who fought for freedom. I disagreed. Eventually, our relationship healed but I kept the info close hold. 

Only two years later did I confess the trip to an Air Force pilot on our second date. I wanted to it out of the way in case this was the thing we couldn’t get over. His reply: “We need people willing to say the hard things that keep our leaders accountable.” In 24 years of marriage, I still feel that support, but have always been careful to make sure that my beliefs and actions do not reflect poorly on his service to our Country… I was a quiet ally, some would say.

Fast forward to today: I’ve had gay friends for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t until I went to seminary in the late 1980s that I was confronted with the position of the United Methodist Church on homosexuality. When I was ordained a few years later, I promised “celibacy in singleness and faithfulness in marriage,” and I was OK with that. Within two years of my ordination, I was engaged and then married and life ticked on as normal.

For my gay friends – not so much. They were not afforded the same options as me. Marriage was not sanctioned by the church or the State. I was continually tamping down this feeling of unease, that members of my community were being discriminated against because of their biology using biblical arguments of submission, many long since discarded.

I didn’t make public statements but tried to be a quiet ally. Still, friendships were lost. People left churches and even some left the Christian faith because the implied message was “You are not good enough” and “You will never really belong.” Some lived unauthentic lives in order to stay in the good graces of the Church. Some openly defied the Church’s rules and many, but not all, paid a heavy price.

Meanwhile, I was also living in another world. When the US Congress repealed the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy for military service, there were innumerable warnings of gloom and doom. Instead of morale going down, it went up. Instead of readiness suffering, it was enhanced. What could be more affirming for a workplace environment that people living out life with no apologies or excuses for who they are?[i] And when marriage equality became the law of the land, we celebrated with new families offering gifts to our military communities. I had every hope and expectation that my denomination would soon join the growing list of mainline Protestant churches that opened ministry and service to all who felt the call of God. I saw a path to greater understanding and acceptance.

So far, that’s not how it turned out.

A lot of people much smarter than I have written about the process and outcome of our recent called General Conference.[ii] And the reality is that while legislation was passed, we don’t even know if it can be enacted because of continuing constitutional issues. And maybe it doesn’t matter, because damage has already been done. And we're not sure yet where we go from here.

Over the last week, I’ve cried a lot of tears. I’ve asked a lot of questions. And I’ve tried to gain perspective on where we’ve been and where are now. In this short time, I recognize several problems with our approach – because hindsight is 20/20 and in gaining some clarity maybe we can keep from making the same mistakes.

• We operate out of a place of fear rather than mercy.
• We thought that there was a legislative solution to a heart problem.
• We misunderstand the role of “power” in how we live out life in the Church, letting the ways of the world dictate solutions and behaviors instead of rejecting them for something totally new and Spirit-led.
• We haven’t remembered and thought and taught what it means to be Wesleyan Christian. 
• Some of us thought it would be enough to pray and be quiet allies from behind the scenes, seeking safe protection from what others would think if we took a more open stance against the status quo.

I am guilty of all of those and many more that I can’t even name right now. And I have no magic solutions to make this all go away. But I can address my own failings and be a better, more vocal advocate to the LGBTQIA[iii] community, in and out of the Methodist context. 

• I have to learn more about this community, it’s history and struggles and heroes. 
• I have to study more about what John Wesley taught theological conflict in his societies. I think some of this work can be done through the Wesley quadrilateral, but I may have to start reading Wesley’s sermons again. And Charles Wesley’s hymns.  
• I have to be braver in saying what I really believe, and back it up with good theological and biblical research to support my gut instincts about how we can be a Church that welcomes all to ministry and leadership in the Church.

I have no idea what that will look like in practice. I'm sure I'll get both pushback and support along the way. This is just the beginning of a new chapter in the faith journey that started at my baptism and continued through my confirmation, call to ministry and marriage, to the place where I am today.

I’ve recently studied the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus didn’t just tell this story for fun but in response to a specific question. The conversation went something like this:

Questioner: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus answers with a question: “What does the Law say?”

Questioner: “Love God and love your neighbor.”

Jesus: “Do this and you will have eternal life.”

Questioner: “But who is my neighbor?” 

And you know the story from there. Jesus ends the parable with the ultimate answer… the neighbor is the one who showed mercy… The question for us is this: what will it take for all of us to become those merciful people?

John Wesley had 3 rules: Do No Harm. Love Others. Stay in Love with God. I’m pretty sure that’s our starting place.

Peace in Christ,

Deb

(c) Deb Luther Teagan, March 2019

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[i] https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2012/09/study-of-dont-ask-dont-tell-repeal-helped-the-military.html

[ii] Washington Post article: https://www.washingtonpost.com/religion/2019/02/26/united-methodist-church-votes-maintain-its-opposition-same-sex-marriage-gay-clergy/?utm_term=.e2d2fa325859&wpisrc=al_news__alert-national&wpmk=1

Adam Hamilton: https://www.adamhamilton.com/blog/a-way-backwards-winning-the-battle-losing-the-church#.XHmPby2ZPOQ?fbclid=IwAR1IkhG1x-_AumvjiAk0qzXeVuvaQmeTvJrWsTHydSKhn3ufpEmvoGewgBU

[iii] LGBTQIA refers to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer or questioning, intersex, and asexual or allied (LBGTQIA Resource Center, UC Davis, CA)

TINK is Knit Backwards...

I started crocheting in earnest in 2005 when I went on a business trip with my husband. The plans I had to antique with a friend fell through and I was left with hours and days of free time. So I picked up a skein of yarn and a "teach yourself to crochet" kit for less than $10.  It was remarkably relaxing, and it because a favorite way to fill my time, even leading to migration from paper to audiobooks, and later podcasts.

During the next ten years, there were lots of scarves, hats and scarfs that flew off of my hooks. But my yarn life took a dramatic turn when we moved back to Germany in 2014. Just a few days after arriving in Stuttgart, I discovered a group of women knitting and crocheting in our Post Starbucks. Little did I know how much my life would change. Funny, irreverent, loyal, great teachers... they have it all, and while many have come and gone, it's a really wonderful place to grow friendship and skills over the years.

They have taught me much. First of all, collecting yarn and actually making something from it are two different hobbies. Germany and Italy have some of the most amazing natural fiber yarns... merino wool and silk are some of my new best friends. The colors, the textures, the variety of options... it really boggles the mind.

Second, since most of these new friends knitted, they wanted to share that gift with me. So on a late November day, my friend Becky invited me over for pizza and put a set of circular needles in my hands at said, "Knit!" And because she makes amazing pizza, I did what she said. Since then, I've made six or seven shawls (which I love) and attempted a pair of socks, which gave me absolutely ZERO joy, so no socks for any of you.

Third, they taught me that understanding how to TINK is as important as knowing how to KNIT. Tinking is the process of actually unknitting what you have just done. In crochet, when you see a mistake, you figure out how far back you have to go and you just pull it out, rewind on your ball, and pick up where you left off. In knitting, it's not that easy. Pulling out your needles often leaves you with a terrible mess. Tinking lets you work backward to the place of your mistake, maybe a dropped or skipped stitch, and then move forward when you've figured it out.

But the best benefit to me of learning to tink is figuring out how the stitches actually work. That means paying attention and asking the right questions... what came before... what will come after... when am I in over my head and need to ask for help? Do I keep ripping out the mistakes or let them be a testament to how much I've learned in the process? (this is related to the question, do I post a picture of the mistakes for all the world to see?)

It is so easy to live life on autopilot... cruising along just the way we've always gone. Running into roadblocks or unexpected situations often throw us off course, and we are not sure what to do. Knitting and tinking remind me that there is no mistake big enough to cause us to just throw in the towel, especially if you love the yarn and project that you have chosen.

The same is true in life. We will make mistakes or be impacted by the mistakes of others. Life doesn't always go the ways we want to expect. A life of faith and knitting encourages me to choose well, to start something new, give away the things I make, learn new things, ask questions when I need help, and release what I don't love.

I used to say that I love it when my fiber world and my faith world crossed paths, but more recently I've realized that they are all the same world... God continues to show up everywhere, even in the places and projects where I expect it the least. 

Yeah, God!

Peace, Deb

Ministry reminders... No phoning it in!

I taught my first confirmation class in January 1992… and in my 5 years at Bethany UMC we confirmed over 200 youth… crazy, right? Especially in the beginning, it was super stressful because that’s a lot of responsibility. Fortunately, we had great confirmation mentors who made it possible to have ongoing conversation and discussion with such large class sizes. These confirmation classes fed our youth directly into our awesome youth programs, and I am always heartened when I hear and see these same youth, now adults in their 30’s and 40’s, living out their faith journeys all over the world. 

But there was always this underlying prayer surrounding my lesson preparation and teaching, “Lord, please don’t let me screw them up too bad.” 

27 years later, I still pray that prayer. But instead of being stressed by my confirmation teaching experience, I am exhilarated by it. And in our first class yesterday, I was reminded about why we can’t just phone it in when we are inviting people to take the work of Jesus and the Church seriously.

When we moved back to Germany in 2014, I figured it wouldn’t be possible to remain totally anonymous because there were people still here (or here again) from our previous assignment ten years earlier. But I didn’t expect that on the first Sunday, I would be asked to help the Protestant congregation have a conversation about why a confirmation class might be a worthy endeavor for us to undertake.

But it wouldn’t be just any confirmation class. We would be working with youth from many traditions who had all been baptized as infants or small children. It was a little overwhelming. I was challenged to put together a curriculum that addressed the common theological doctrines of different denominations – baptism, communion, the Trinity, missions and ministry, and spiritual disciplines – while also trying not to touch the third rails that separate us. And over the last five years, I have whipped together something that works, both for me and for the youth, their families and congregations.

I love all of my Stuttgart confirmands. I am so happy to see them successful and pursuing the questions of faith in local churches and our military chapel. Each class has had its own personality, and it usually takes a couple of weeks to figure out how to get them engaged with the material.

But this year’s class – they offered me no time to settle in. You know you’re in for a good time when it’s evident they have read the lessons, formulated questions, and took notes when I went off script with my answers. It was exhilarating! And now that I think about it more, it is scary – but in a very good way.

I have two bookshelves filled, mostly with books I’ve read before. This makes no sense to my husband. He reads a book and he’s done. He watches a movie and its classified a “recommend” or “see something else.” I scan through the channels and if “A Few Good Men” is on, he knows we are settling in for the night.

In the same way, I don’t mind leading a class or book discussion multiple times. Each group encounters the topic differently and those differences are always enlightening. 

But it does leave room to be a little less proactive in preparation if I’m not careful. Trust me, that lesson has been learned.

Here’s the whole reason I’m writing this all down… I am so thankful for the opportunity to reexamine my own faith journey and theological quest through the questions of these youth. It’s giving me the chance to not only help these youth develop a language of faith but to give mine a little tune-up at the same time.

In 1996, a cheeky 11th grader asked me a question with 5 minutes left to go in our Sunday night youth group… note to self – be careful when you ask “Are there any more questions?” She asked, “What the deal with the Trinity?” And maybe in the biggest turning point in my ministry, I did not blow her off but attempted to honor and answer her question in the spirit of my amazing Christian Theology professor, Frederick Hertzog… which took about 20 minutes. By the end of class, not one youth had left, and 20 parents were sitting behind me, taking it all in. I don't know that I gave the most theologically accurate answer, for I did want them to know that the question was worthy of our time.

Taking these questions seriously is so important. It tells the youth that their questions matter… that no question is too silly or simple that it doesn’t require a hearing. For those of us with a little more information and experience in Christian living, these questions help us perform a checkup on how we talk about what we believe. And often those words need to be spoken aloud. Added bonus, it’s the main reason I can still justify keeping all those books I’ve read before and buying new ones to add to their company.

First-week questions in our discussion of baptism included: 

• Why does the bible always refer to God as a man? 

• How is the Holy Spirit different from God and Jesus? and 

• If God has a plan, does that mean we don’t get to make choices for ourselves?

Please let it be noted that sometimes the answer is, “I don’t know… but let’s try to figure it out together.”

And now, I hope you’ll excuse me while I go read up on the Eucharist for next week’s class. 

Peace, Deb

WInning isn't everything... but it's nice!

It's been almost more than 30 years since I graduated from Clemson University. My freshman year was the first year of the 2-year Charley Pell era and football tickets were free for students - just show your ID at the game and take a seat. That year we went to the Gator Bowl, the first bowl appearance since the year I was born. We lost to Pitt, but what a great experience. That year was a real turning point for Clemson football.

They won their first national championship the year after I graduated - which was also the year I bought a pair of season tickets. When I left to go to seminary 6 years later, I told everyone the hardest part of leaving was giving up those 40-yard line seats, because I knew I'd never get them back.

What I didn't know was how far away from Clemson my life would go. In 24 years as a military spouse, I've lived in 9 different states and a foreign country twice. As the Clemson program gained prominence, the easier it became to see the games. The last five seasons the biggest problem has been living six time zones ahead of Clemson game time. Many Saturday nights I have set a 2am alarm to get up to watch the Tigers play... once even sitting in a hotel bathroom in Norway in the middle of the night to watch a Clemson/ Carolina game on my phone. Often, the games finished in time for me to head to church and preach at an early chapel service.

There have been a lot of wins the last five years, and a few heartbreaking losses.  I have to say that the winning part is great, but mostly I love that the team is so easy to love. I love the philosophy of the coaches and the team... growing young leaders is the primary goal and winning is the icing on the cake. 

Why am I such a big fan? Maybe it's because my dad taught me to really love the game of football. Maybe it's because I was a part of that student base who saw the team turn around and begin the march to today's greatness. And maybe it's my way of staying connected to my home state, my alma mater, and all the friends and family I left behind over 20 years ago. 

No matter what, I'm a Clemson girl, and heading out to a busy day with very little sleep. But it doesn't seem to matter very much right now, because while winning isn't everything, it is very nice, indeed.

Go Tigers! Congratulations of your 2018 College Football National Championship!

Peace, Deb

Many hats... one heart

I wear many hats.                         
                           

I'm a wife, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a pastor, a friend and a volunteer... a military spouse, a retiree spouse (!), a listener, a reader, a blogger, laundry woman, an expat and most recently, a knitter... and those titles only scratch the surface.

Anyone reading this will know me by a few of these roles... it's not really possible for me to wear all those hats at the same time. But I hope that it's also been evident that while I may wear many hats, I only have one heart.

It's a heart that attempts, in every instance, to put love first.

... that shares my gifts with those around me...

... that keeps looking forward instead of to the past...

... that sees everyone as created in the image of God...

... that tries to work toward justice and peace for those near and far away...

... that seeks to find inner peace for myself...

... that cries at the pain of others...

... that rages at the ways that people will intentionally hurt others in order to have their own way...

... that wonders if there is anything that I can do to facilitate healing to this crazy, mixed up world we are living in.

People have often asked me my favorite scripture. I'm not a big memorizer of bible verses, but there are a couple of passages that I start and end my day with, every day.

The first is the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10). You know it, but I can't help myself...

The answer to the question about eternal life is this: Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself. But the most important part of this story is the question that followed: "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus tells the story of a man beaten, abandoned and holding onto life by a thread. All the of the people we expect to help just passed him by. Spoiler alert: the hero of the story is the outcast, who touched the untouchable, and expended his time, energy and resources to bring the man back to fullness of life. 

And every day I pray, "Lord, let me be the Samaritan..."

The second is another parable, this one from Matthew 25... the sheep and the goats... 

This story always hits me on two levels. 

* Am I treating others as if there were Christ in my life? * What kind of society do we live in that seems to discount or throw away the sick, the hungry and thirsty, the lost and naked... anyone who is different, as if their lives have no value at all? 

In a little town in Russia, there was a cobbler named Martin. He had lived long in the village, and had hardly been a pair of shoes he had not seen, at one time or another.Martin had always been a good man, but in his old age he began to think more about hissoul and to draw nearer to God. From that time on Martin’s life changed. He grew more peaceful and joyful. And one night, while reading from the gospel of Matthew, Martin had a dream that told him this, “Look into the street tomorrow, for I shall come.” In an instant, Martin knew that Christ would visit him the next day, and even in his excitement, slept with great anticipation for the coming day to arrive.

On waking, Martin said his prayers and made a pot of cabbage soup. Then he sat down to work. His windows were right at street level, so as he looked out onto the street occasionally, and if anyone unfamiliar walked by, he would stoop and look up to see if they were coming into his shop. And old and broken man stood in front of the window, having barely enough energy to brush the snow away. “What if I have him in and fame him some tea,” Martin wondered. The kettle is on to boil. So Martin beckoned him in and went to open the door. Come and warm yourself. I’m sure you must be cold.

The old man was quite grateful and they chatted as the afternoon went on. But Martin kept looking out the window, waiting for the Christ to appear. Soon the old man was warm enough to go on his way. He thanked Martin, and Martin went back to work.

People kept walking by. Soon a woman, carrying a baby stopped by the window. She had on summer clothes and was trying to wrap the baby in a cotton cloth. Martin could not help but invite them inside. There he shared with them bread and cabbage soup. He made porridge for the baby. He brought her a old cloak to wrap up the baby, gave her a coin to get her winter clothing from the pawn shop, and sent her on her way.

Finally, a young boy came by, snatching an apple from an old woman right in front Martin’s window. Martin saved the boy from the old woman’s wrath, buying him two apples, and making him promise not to steal again.

By now, evening was approaching, and it was too dark to get any work done. Martin set about the task of cleaning, and waiting. He wondered about the promised visit, and what could keep it from coming true. He just knew that Christ would come. Something important must have kept him away. And then he heard footsteps. “Who is it?” “It is I,” said the voice, and out stepped the old man, who smiled and vanished like a cloud. “It is I,” said the voice again. And out of the darkness stepped the woman and the baby in her arms. Smiling and laughing, they too vanished. “It is I,” said the voice once more. And the old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward, and then they too vanished.

And Martin’s soul grew glad, for he remembered the words he had been reading… I was hungry and you fed me… I was thirsty and you gave me drink (-- attributed to Leo Tolstoy in The Book of Virtues,158-166.)

======================
My faith journey has been filled with opportunities to make sure all of my hats fit securely on my one heart. It's not easy. The laundry women's heart can sometimes be resentful that all these clothes need to be washed and ironed (sometimes) again and again. And then I remember that I don't wash and iron because it's my job, but because it's my contribution to our family, and because whatever I don't spend on going to the cleaners gives me more to spend on yarn.

Some days I just want to play it safe, which might mean calling in sick to a group, or not speaking up when words are unintentionally, or worse, intentionally spoken. Some days I want to lash out... be mad... and ugly. Time and prayer and knitting usually help me recenter and uncover the heart that Jesus wants me to have.

A few weeks ago, a large manila envelope showed up in my mailbox. That night, before I went to bed, I sat down with my absentee ballot and my computer to research the candidates and issues before me. I tried to vote with my loving heart...

A few months from now, my denomination will be making decisions that affect our future together and my future as a member of its clergy. I hope they vote with their loving hearts, too.

No matter what, we are all called to live with one heart. As a Christian, my life's work is really simple and desperately hard... to love God and my neighbor with every ounce of my being, and to live that love out in the world, no matter what hat I'm wearing.

Whatever the outcome of these elections and other areas where there is potential for disagreement, here is my advice: Be gentle with one another. See Christ in others. Be good listeners. Accept our differences. Don't hold a grudge. And let us do it all in a spirit of love.

Peace, Deb

(c)  Deb Luther Teagan - November 2018

(c) https://newdaychurch.info/portfolio-item/who-is-my-neighbor/

Word of the Day: Mistake

I had an appointment this morning and instead of taking a book, I took my latest knitting project. This is a new thing for me - I've been crocheting for almost 15 years, but knitting only since last November. I'd like to think I'm getting better, but then something catastrophic happened... I dropped a stitch. I was talking with the nice receptionist and I didn't feel it slide off the end of my needle and within a couple of minutes, I saw it drop down two more rows.

In crochet, if you make a mistake, you just pull the yarn out back to the place you need to correct, find your place in the pattern, and keep going. In knitting, it's just not that simple. A mistake often means knitting backward, stitch by stitch, until you get to the place where your mistake is. When you drop a stitch, you either have to fix it right away or anchor it so that it doesn't get away from you. I usually use a crochet hook to pull the stitch back into place - no crochet hook today - or use to stitch marker or safety pin to hold it in place - nope, didn't have that either.

So by the time I got home, it was a real mess. I started tinking (knitting backward) for realized that it would take several hours, so I did the almost unimaginable, I pulled out 11 rows of stitches and gingerly rethreaded my project on my needles to start the color change again.

This was a great reminder of why knitting is still an emotional chore for me. The price of making a mistake is high, and it takes a crazy amount of time to fix it. In fact, if I didn't love this yarn so much, I might have stuffed it in a bag to come back to another time.

But I couldn't give up, so I came home, settled into my comfortable chair, and did the work necessary to get back on the right track. And in the future, I won't get over the end of my skis... my friends may be able to knit without seeming to look, but I am a long way from being about to do that myself.

So why am I sharing this? Because it made me mindful of how hard it is to admit making a mistake. We know that when we acknowledge it, we'll have to go back and do a lot of hard work to make things right. Recognizing our mistakes often means admitting wrongdoing or ignorance, owning the mistake, apologizing and going about the long and arduous task of making things right. Even then, big mistakes are not something that we ever really forget. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to show you where my scarf went off the rails... even though you would never be able to tell.

As a Christian pastor, part of my job is to claim the prophetic mantle, as uncomfortable as it is most days. I am absolutely positive that I have made many mistakes that I have never recognized, confessed or corrected... bad on me. Sometimes it takes a true friend to say to me, "Deb, I think you have some work to do here." But when I have messed things up, I hope that it's been my practice to make things right, the best I can. And if I haven't always done it well, I hope I've learned important lessons to help me in the future.

We live in perilous times, and I have been thinking lately that I should turn off the news, stop reading and only think of happy things. But my faith requires me to stay connected and to speak out when I see a place where Jesus' teachings and Christian traditions can help us stay true to our calling as disciples of Jesus Christ.

I will often post articles, book suggestions, photos, and memes which reflect my experience of a faithful response. Trust me, I weigh very carefully what I share. And even if we disagree, I hope that we continue our friendship in love, acknowledging that none of us can ever have the whole picture alone.

It's just another way I am reminded that being a pastor is not just a job - it's a way of life.

Here's my advice for the day: Be gentle with one another. Let us own our mistakes and work to make things right. And let us do it all in a spirit of love.

Peace, Deb

(c) Deb Luther Teagan, June 19, 2018

Sermon - How does your garden grow? (Pentecost 4B)

4^th Sunday After Pentecost                                                       June 17, 2018

Mark 4:26-34, 2 Corinthians 5:6-17                            Panzer Liturgical Service

I do love Spring. We have a garden in our backyard. In previous summers we have planted small seedlings from the garden center. But this year, everything we planted came from seeds. Before Easter, Shawn planted little dirt disks with 2 kinds of tomatoes, butternut squash, watermelon, cantaloupe, brussels sprouts, and sunflowers. Every day he would look under the clear plastic dome to see if there was any action.

It didn’t take long for something happen. The tiny seeds sprouted, breaking through the dirt and soon, small pairs of leaves were leaning toward the light. A month later, we transplanted our little seedlings to bigger containers and started acclimating them to the outside weather. One month ago, we planted them in our garden. The tomatoes and squash are doing best, growing visibly every day. In a couple of months, we will hopefully have a good harvest. And each plant came from just one seed.

How does this happen? A seed gets planted in the ground and sooner or later, a crop is ready to be harvested. Oh, we do a little – make sure there is good soil, take away the weeds, give water and sometimes shelter them from an unexpected cold. But the process of growing is really out of our hands unless we kill our crop from benign neglect. What a miracle to watch fruits and vegetable and grains come into their full potential all around us. All we have to do is sow and get ready for the harvest.

When you heard the lesson for today, I’ll bet you said, “OK, today’s lesson is the one about the mustard seed, I know this one.” In fact, the mustard seed is the star of parables in all three synoptic gospels.  In Matthew & Luke, it’s a simple message – the mustard seed is small, but grows into a big tree. It’s a metaphor for faith – faith, even if it’s small, is big enough to uproot the largest tree.

But in Mark, Jesus prefaces the mustard seed parable with another about sowing seed. It addresses the joint nature of the harvest. The sower plants the seeds, maybe carefully, maybe just throwing them to the wind to fall down where they may. But everything is not in the sower’s control. Yes, the sower or farmer can make conditions optimal for growth, but the power for the seed to sprout and make fruit is the hands of God and his creation alone.

So how does this relate to a life of faith? We are quick to put all kinds of conditions on what it means to be a person of faith. Did you say the right prayer? Where you baptized by the right person in the right church by the right means? Are you attending the right church or right denomination? How do you interpret scripture? Do you follow the right rules?

But in this passage, it feels like Jesus is questioning this premise. In the first parable we hear that “the kingdom is like scattering seed.”  The sower/farmer doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but has confidence that as the seed grows, the harvest will come. It sounds like Jesus is saying that the Kingdom of God will come, often in spite of us. Apparently, both Matthew and Luke are uncomfortable with this world as well; they omit this first parable and all this talk of secrets. And for a long time, this made me uneasy, too. What remains clear is that the kingdom is a marvelous thing, a gift from God and not totally under our control. Small beginnings bring large outcomes, even if our good intentions get in the way. [i] 

I don’t know if you have ever read through Mark’s gospel in one sitting. You should try it. It’s only a little over 600 verses and reads like a superhero story, with Jesus in the staring role. Only he isn’t very hero-like, and his sidekicks, the disciples, are clearly clueless most of the time. This first parable actually gives us some hope that if we just keep at it – working for the Kingdom – we won’t mess it up too much if we remember that God is the master gardener. It is the nature of God’s reign to manifest itself. That’s what it does.[ii]

And that’s the easy part of the lesson. But there is a more difficult message embedded in this second parable… difficult if you like your Kingdom of God neat and orderly and the way it’s always been. If you ask any farmer in the Middle East about the mustard tree or shrub, he will tell you that once it gets in your garden you may never get rid of it, sort of like dandelions, but bigger.

So maybe one of the first questions a person in Jesus’ audience would ask is, “Why would you intentionally plant mustard seeds in your garden?” Not only is it an ugly weed, but when it grows large enough for birds to come and roost in its branches, those birds are going to do a lot of damage. Roosting birds in a garden will wake you up early, eat your crop, and leave little presents behind … it’s hard to imagine a world where you invite them to come to make a home with you.

But that’s exactly what Jesus did. He invited everyone to come and follow him. The passage that we read from 2 Corinthians is pretty complicated and convoluted, but it ends with a declarative statement. Paul writes:

For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died… So, if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! 2 Corinthians 5:14,17 (NRSV)

Paul said a lot of things that we as the church declare as definitive – absolute must-follows for faith. Well, I think we need to add this one to the list. Here Paul echoes the message of the parable. Jesus came and died for everyone… for you, for me, for the person next door, for the guy who parks at the end of your driveway blocking you in, for the parents and children seeking asylum, for those who want to turn them away, for those who haven’t even heard of him yet, even for those who don’t yet believe.  And when people do commit themselves to Jesus, they are a part of our family, whether we like it or not.

But do we really believe this? Do we believe that every person who has walked on this earth has value simply because “Christ died for all”? Do we believe that just because Jesus was willing to die for everyone, that gives their lives intrinsic value? Even at my most optimistic, I would have to say, No, we don’t. 

Author and pastor Dawn Chesser put it this way:

Paul says that each person’s value has already been established through Christ’s death… We don’t need to know whether or not a person has confessed Christ as his or her personal Lord and Savior before we decide to treat him or her with dignity and respect… We don’t need to know anything about the person, because we already know all we need to know: he or she is valuable because Christ died FOR him or her, just as for us.[iii] 

It’s easy to get caught up in a “them vs us” mentality. In our worlds of education, position, income and status, we forget that 

the original followers of Jesus were, in the eyes of the culture, all pretty much losers – lowly fishermen, despised tax collectors, prostitutes and criminals, lowlifes loathed by the religious establishment. [But] maybe that’s the way the followers of Jesus have always looked to the rest of the world – those people desperate enough, lowly enough, to find hope in Jesus’ message.[iv]

So where is our hope? When we are struggling, experience loss, or just can’t find our footing - when we wonder what the future holds and if this Jesus-life is really for us, Jesus reminds us that the Kingdom of God comes of its own…and it comes for us. There is room for everyone in this kingdom. Jesus’ parables tell us that all things are possible because our God is great.  We think the work of faith is difficult, but when we recognize our own needs and the needs of others are the same, everything is possible through the love and power of God.

Someone asked me the other day what I do for a living and I answered, “I read.” I read books, I read articles, I listen to podcasts [which is like reading with your ears], and then I look up resources on the stuff that I’ve already read. I also subscribe to a bunch of faith-related newsletters from a variety of sources. I guess that 40-50% of these newsletters address the topic of boosting church attendance. Now I’m all for having more people in church, but I am more convinced than ever that this will not solve the institutional church’s problems.

Church is not just the building or the people who have gathered inside. Church is just not about how we ourselves come to faith in Jesus or the strategies we will employ to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. The growth of our religious institutions is not the measuring stick which will determine our faithfulness. Instead, we are called to see our place in the biblical story, and in the process, hear Jesus’ call to live our lives in the shadow and protection of God’s greatest gift – love.

Today’s readings inspire us to see God in unexpected people and places. We are called to look beyond the obvious to discover God everywhere, in everyone. And while the life unfolding around us often feels precarious and unimportant – and our role infinitesimal – a great harvest and great possibilities are on the horizon for those who see from a God’s eye view, through the eyes of faith. Great things do come from small beginnings.[v]

I originally intended to end with the story of Johnny Appleseed.[vi]  It’s a wonderful tale in it’s simplest form and gives a good snapshot of a person who dedicated his whole life to the love of God, neighbor, and nature. But the events of the week could not be chased from my mind or heart as so often happens these days. And when I was looking through my library for a book I own about a village in France that operated an underground railroad for Jews during World War II[vii], I found something even better.

I encountered writer Ina Hughs through a book on a bargain sale table at a brick and morter bookstore. It is a collection of columns she wrote for the Knoxville News Sentinel in the early 1990’s, mostly about children and divided into three sections: Yours, Mine and Ours. These essays are about children she knows and ones she never met. Some are laugh-out-loud funny and others will bring a tear to your eye. In the front of the books is a poem – a prayer for children. I’m going to end the sermon with this poem, this prayer today. 

Link to A Prayer for Children – Ina Hughs (1995)

These are the children Jesus invites to the Kingdom of God. This is who we are called to love.[viii]

Amen.

Peace, Deb

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[i] James Boyce, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2469

[ii] Matt Skinner, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3676

[iii] Dawn Chesser, http://www.umcdiscipleship.org/worship/lectionary-calendar/third-sunday-after-pentecost5

[iv] David Lose, http://www.davidlose.net/2015/06/pentecost-3-b-preach-the-truth-slant/

[v] Bruce Epperly, http://www.patheos.com/blogs/livingaholyadventure/2015/06/the-adventurous-lectionary-the-third-sunday-after-pentecost-june-14-2015/

[vi] Wikipedia, Johnny Appleseed, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Appleseed

[vii] Philip Hallie, Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed, Harper Perennial, 1994.

[viii] Ina Hughs, A Prayer for Children, William Morrow Publishers, 1995.