Being obnoxious

Luke 15:1-10

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

So he told them this parable: “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbours, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbours, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

In the Name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer, Amen.

As you know it always vital to consider the context of any gospel passage we read - to look at what has gone before, to look at its setting, to step back and get a bigger picture.

And, in todays, possibly familiar passage, considering the context makes all the difference.

At the beginning of this passage we are told that Jesus is surrounded by two sets of people - tax collectors and sinners on the one hand and scribes and Pharisees on the other.

The scribes and Pharisees are grumbling about him hanging our with the tax collectors and sinners.

So, he tells them a story.

And, as is his wont, Jesus places them in that story.

He says to the scribes and the Pharisees - which of you…

Which of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one, would not leave the 99 to go and find it?

The question - or the challenge Jesus is making seems to be making is - would you go and seek the lost?

Would you leave the comfort you know to show concern for those outside of your circle?

I suppose that’s the way I’ve always understood that parable - perhaps you have too. A call to us as spiritual leaders to go and find those who’ve lost their way.

But in todays world - and the gospel always has a word to speak into our current climate, in todays world, I wonder if the challenge is not something else.

In todays world of social isolation, of religious and political difference, of economic uncertainty and fear of those who are different from us. In this world, perhaps the parable, speaks to us as the 99.

The 99 who have stayed together, remained within our comfort zones, stuck with what we know, hung out with those who are like us, even done good and charitable things.

Perhaps it speaks to us as the 99 whose actions have nonetheless proved exclusive.

The 99 who have made it plain that we’re fine as we are - and don’t need to worry, that we have resources and enough to share.

That if folk want to join in, fair enough, but on our terms.

Perhaps we’re the 99 who wait quietly, huddled together for safety and security.

We are weary.

And that’s perfectly understandable.

Together we’ve endured global trauma and upheaval - that shows no signs of abating anytime soon.

And in our own political climate, there appears to be little good news - quite the opposite.

No wonder we’re weary.

No wonder we want to rest with those we know.

We do what we can with the resources we have.

We go through the motions.

What is missing is JOY.

The two stories Jesus tells - of the lost sheep and the lost coin - they both end Rejoice with me .

They both end with communal rejoicing.

Lord knows, there has been precious little of that around, for sure.

And the immediate future is not looking too hopeful either.

So what would connecting with that joy look like, for us and for those we serve today?

I believe it looks a lot like love.

Like love and grace.

Shining the light of love and grace in a world that is overwhelmed by darkness.

Yesterday, I spent the morning on Girvan Beach, making some beach art intended to raise awareness of suicide.

Commemorating the 753 deaths by suicide that have affected Scottish families and communities in the last year.

In the afternoon, I was working with a team who run a soup bus in Ayr.

And one of the things I asked them to do, was write affirmations for one another.

To write down the things they saw in their colleagues that made a difference to the lives of others.

We are surrounded by those who feel hopeless.

By those who never hear words of affirmation.

There is joy in heaven over one person who rediscovers the light of love and grace.

There is joy in heaven over one person who discovers that they are fearfully and wonderfully made.

And I want to add - that there is joy in heaven over one of the 99 who recognises and has the courage to say  that our institutions do not care for the most vulnerable in our communities. Not even close.

There is joy in heaven over one of the 99 who will say charity is not the answer.

Food banks and warm banks should not be part of the fabric of our society, should not be celebrated, however well intentioned, as something we can provide.

Our importance is not in normalising what is gross injustice but in being as obnoxious as the prophets, Jesus included, were.

Calling out what divides and excludes and widens the gap between rich and poor, the in and the out.

There is rejoicing in heaven when the 99 find a way to stand in the gap, making a bridge that links communities in opposing injustice until all know themselves as sheep of God’s own searching and lambs of Gods own finding.

In the midst of grief and despair today, God invites us - Rejoice with me.

Let’s recover the joy in our faith by reclaiming our activism as prophets of God, calling out the injustice in our world, not just seeking the lost but recognising how we have to change to live as Gods people today in the kingdom that has room for all.

In that place, God invites us: Rejoice with me.

Amen.

Both/And - Martha and Mary

 

From the book: Stories of the Well: Recovering Her Story (Liz Crumlish 2022)

Luke 10:38-42

Jesus Visits Martha and Mary
Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Which is the better part?

For years interpretation has sought 

to divide Martha and Mary

determining that only one of them

can be commended by our Lord

that only one way

is important in the kingdom.

Yet truth be told

we know all too well

that we need those who welcome others

doing all the things necessary

to provide hospitality

as well as those 

who will take time to listen,

affording intimacy.

And in both women

we see the norms of the day

confounded yet again

turned on their head

by women refusing to conform.

Martha, welcoming Jesus boldly

as a head of a household might.

And Mary, sitting at the Rabbi’s feet

as a disciple might.

Both, in their own way contributing 

to the table fellowship they shared.

And, we can imagine Jesus

taking the fruits of Martha’s labour:

bread still warm from the oven

its aroma filling the room

and sweet, heady wine,

kept for just such an occasion

and, wrapped in the adoring gaze of Mary,

transforming those gifts

in the knowledge

that the portent of death

was not missed in this home

For here were two women

who simply got it

and, together, made room for the One

in whom everything made sense

Two women who demonstrated that love

does not consist in either/or

but in both/and.

Martha and Mary

who recognised

that the kingdom was near.

(Liz Crumlish 2022)

We are all born naked

 John 16:12-15

“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.

In the Name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer, Amen

Some of you may have noticed by now, that I prefer to use Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer when I invoke the Trinity rather than Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

There’s something about naming God who is each and all of these things for us - Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer.

All of these things gathered up together, each indistinguishable from the other, but, together signalling all that we might need or desire. God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer.

Trinity Sunday is one of those days that provokes fierce debate on social media about how many heresies will be preached as preachers of all hues try to explain the Trinity.

Hopefully, I’m not going to get into that today - though who knows?

This week, I want to share something I heard recently on Ru Paul’s Drag Race - “ we are all born naked - all the rest is drag.”

Although I’ve heard that a few times - Ru Paul’s Drag Race is my go-to for some light relief - that phrase hit me between the eyes this week as I’ve been focusing on how we might  celebrate the Trinity.

Because one of the things I am drawn to again and again, is the messiness of God.

God, who from the dawn of creation refused to go for either or, refused to conform to the binaries in which we often try to confine things - instead, creating a spectrum, a rainbow, if you will, of multiple possibilities.

In creation, light doesn’t suddenly become dark, there is a whole spectrum in between.

When we look out at the loch here, land merges into sea that merges into the horizon - with no firm lines where one ends and the other begins.

I don’t believe God subscribes much to the either/or, or the in/out that we humans are so fond of.

God smudges the lines that we so carefully draw - again and again, sweeping all of creation up into love.

“We are all born naked - all the rest is drag”. 

As creations of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer, God has already decreed us beloved.

God delights in us, however we choose to display or to mask our identities.

God delights in all the diversity and colour that we add to the palette of creation.

And God delights when we colour outside of the lines that some use to try and restrict or confine the wonderful spectrum of Creation.

No wonder Jesus said “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now”. 

Making sense of the machinations of God - who, among other things, is Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer is beyond our binary logic.

And so, rather than try and explain the mystery of the Trinity today, I want to invite you to allow yourself to be caught up in it.

To be caught up in the swirl of God’s love.

Love that does not exclude.

Love that is not withheld from any because of who or what they are, or of how they self identify.

Love that encompasses the whole spectrum of life.

Love that is God’s invitation to you and to me to know ourselves perfectly created whoever we are, however we identify.

Perfectly created to be Co-creators with God, contributing to the messy and wonderful canvas that God continues to paint, everyday revealing new ways of understanding the depths and the mysteries of love.

Every day helping us come closer to knowing that WE are God’s delight.

May we find our identity in the love of God and knowing that God loves and accepts us, may we love and accept others.

In the name of that messy technicolour God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer

Amen 

Don’t look away

 

John 12:1-8

Mary Anoints Jesus

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

In the Name of God the Creator, the Redeemer and the Sustainer. Amen

This is a story that is recounted in all four gospels.

And I’ve always been annoyed that, in every version, the men in the story, steal the show.

It becomes all about them - rather than about the beautiful gift that a woman gave.

In John’s gospel, we see them suggesting how the cost of this gift might have been better employed in the service of the poor.

And in the other gospels, the men around Jesus question how Jesus can calmly accept the unconventional hospitality this woman shows instead of censuring her.

It becomes about the men - rather than about a woman who spontaneously offered radical love.

When we consider when this encounter happens in Jesus’s timeline:

It happens in a real threshold moment.

A turning point for Jesus.

Just at the time when his ministry is about to change direction.

The authorities - civil and religious were already looking for a way to shut him down.

And then he raises Lazarus from the dead.

Now there is no way he’ll be allowed to continue his disruptive influence.

This anointing happens in that liminal space.

When he’s about the leave the shores of lake Galilee to head to Jerusalem.

Where the cross awaits.

It’s why we read it today, this 5th Sunday in Lent.

Passion Sunday.

The tide is turning for Jesus.

Those who want him gone are closing in.

And he knows it.

He’s been telling his friends, warning them.

But most of them want to bury their heads in the sand, stick their fingers in their ears and pretend that it’s business as usual.

Mary of Bethany has listened.

She’s picked up on all the cues.

She knows that the gift of life for Lazarus, her brother, is the final nail for Jesus.

She knows - this man, whom she loves - his days are numbered.

So she does the most radical thing she can imagine.

She breaks open her expensive ointment and anoints her beloved.

It must have been excruciating and beautiful to watch.

And THAT’S why the men in the room have to divert attention.

They couldn’t bear to watch this overtly public display of affection.

And they they couldn’t square up to the truth that was staring them in the face.

They wanted to believe that life was always going to be one big beach party with Jesus.

Instead of a one way ticket to death on a cross -  for him.

Mary’s radical act confronts these men with something they’d rather avoid, so they look away and make it about something entirely different.

Prophets always make us uncomfortable.

And when we find our discomfort growing, we might ask ourselves why?

What is being stirred up in us?

And, more importantly, how are we being nudged into action?

For our call is to be prophets today.

To respond to the injustice we witness.

To call attention to what really matters in our world - and to keep on recalling others.

Not to be distracted, but to keep on working for justice and protesting against all that gets in the way.

No matter how uncomfortable it makes those around us feel.

We are called, with Mary of Bethany to indulge in spontaneous acts of radical love and hospitality, to be extravagant in whatever way we can to address and confront injustice in all the places we inhabit as prophets today.

May we do all that we are called to with the love, the singularity, the purpose and the conviction of Mary of Bethany.

One radical act of love at a time.

It’s not about the poor

It’s not about the dinner guests 

It’s not about the keeper of the purse

It’s about a woman’s extravagant gift

The costly ointment

The fragrance

The unadulterated love exposed for all to see

And the discomfort of 

witnessing such beauty and truth 

becomes too much to bear

And so the focus is diverted

from a woman’s gift

to the men’s distraction techniques

lest we, too, should be moved

to such radical acts of  love

that are searing to witness

causing those not comfortable in their own skin

to look away

to find distraction

in things that, in this moment,

do not matter.

Our discomfort might be transformed

by looking deeply

at the longings

and the fears

the envy

and the loss

that are stirred up in us

who bear witness

to a pure

and spontaneous love.

Until we too

counter injustice in the world

with acts of radical love.

Still a long way off

Luke 15:1-3; 11-32

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

So he told them this parable: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” ’ So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

“Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”

In the Name of God the Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer Amen

The story of the Prodigal Son is one of those multi-layered stories of Jesus - that every time we read it, we might see something different in it.

We hear lots about the younger son, living it up, falling on hard times and coming to his senses.

I’ve always wondered about whether the younger son really changed - or whether he simply came to know where he was well off.

And we hear much about the father, rushing to welcome him home.

Those words, “while he was still a long way off” are some of my favourite words in scripture.

One of our post communion prayers used to use those words: While we were still a long way off, you came to meet us.

For a long time I’ve had much sympathy for the elder brother who felt left out of the party.

I wonder if he ever joined in?

Or whether he carried on doing all the things he had done - with added resentment.

I wonder if the elder brother ever woke up to the knowledge of all that was his for the taking- “ all that is mine is yours”

And of course, the woman of the house, if there was one, doesn’t get a mention.

How will this parable speak afresh to us today?

Will we recognise where we are well off and return - changed or not?

Will we see afresh the abundant gifts of God that have always surrounded us?

And will we share out of that abundance rather than scarcity?

Will we know our God as the prodigal one - who is extravagant with love and with grace?

Will we know today that we are enough?

That we can make a difference?

Today, as we read this parable, at the mid point of Lent, I’m drawn back to Ash Wednesday, recalling that as we gathered to remember that we are dust, Russia invaded Ukraine.

And we had an all too tangible reminder that we are dust.

Almost 4 weeks on, lives are still being lost, cities are being destroyed and we’re seeing the best and the worst of human behaviour.

The courage and compassion of those who rush to help.

And the seeming inhumanity of those in power who rush to put obstacles in the way of those fleeing for their lives - especially here in the UK.

While an evil regime continues to wreak carnage.

We’re at the mid point in Lent.

We need Easter and we need it to come quickly.

We need resurrection - the reminder that death does not have the last word, that love will triumph over evil.

In the meantime…

May we not stand by as evil gathers forces and takes up arms.

May we recognise the abundance that surrounds us - the amazing love and grace of God.

May we be filled not with resentment but with hope as we continue to serve God - to spread the love and grace of God wherever we are, knowing their overwhelming power to conquer evil.

May we be generous with the gifts that God has given, doing all that we can to bring peace into a world at war.

In the name of Christ, Prince of Peace.

Amen.

Beautiful dust

 

Luke 4:1-13

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’ ”

Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.”

Jesus answered him, “It is written,

‘Worship the Lord your God,

and serve only him.’ ”

Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here,

for it is written,

‘He will command his angels concerning you,

to protect you,’

and

‘On their hands they will bear you up,

so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ ”

Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ ” When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

In the Name of God the Creator, the Redeemer and the Sustainer, Amen

Before we consider today’s gospel, I want to pause for a moment with Ash Wednesday, our entry into Lent.

I want to pause to consider the words spoken as ash is placed on our foreheads:

Remember that you are dust - and to dust you shall return.

It is my hope that remembering that we are dust also takes us to remembering what God did - and does -  with dust.

God created humans out of dust - and invited us to be involved in the stewardship of all creation to work alongside God in caring for the earth and all its creatures.

Remember that you are dust.

God created stars and galaxies out of dust and invited us to take our place in that vast universe.

Remember that you are dust - and to dust you shall return.

And I want to add - and remember the amazing things that God can do with dust.

Jan Richardson puts it like this:

All those days

you felt like dust,

like dirt,

as if all you had to do

was turn your face

toward the wind

and be scattered

to the four corners

or swept away

by the smallest breath

as insubstantial—

did you not know

what the Holy One

can do with dust?

….

So let us be marked

not for sorrow.

And let us be marked

not for shame.

Let us be marked

not for false humility

or for thinking

we are less

than we are

but for claiming

what God can do

within the dust,

within the dirt,

within the stuff

of which the world

is made

and the stars that blaze

in our bones

and the galaxies that spiral

inside the smudge

we bear.

You can find the full text here

Here, this first Sunday of Lent, let us Remember that we are dust - and to dust we shall return.

Remembering the hope and trust that God has in us - and for us-  may help to give us a different lens through which to look at our world today.

A lens that sees power and beauty and strength to be harnessed out of the dust.

And so as we hear today’s gospel, of Jesus in the wilderness, being tempted by the devil, we bear witness to Jesus harnessing the power of dust to vanquish evil.

Jesus refuses to turn stones into bread to satisfy his own hunger, knowing that the bread God provides is the bread of life.

He refuses to assume power by bowing down to evil.

And he refuses to put God to the test by misusing the power that he knows he has.

Jesus withstands the temptations that the devil put in his way - and our gospel ends with these words: When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

Evil does not give up.

We know that only too well.

And we, created out of dust, are entrusted to vanquish evil.

To see evil in all its subtle and blatant forms and to harness the power of dust by standing always against evil wherever and however it is encountered.

To seek truth that informs our prayers and our actions.

To refuse to be seduced by media coverage that paints a whole nation as evil but to see the shades of a people whose choices are limited.

This Lent, may we take on rather than give up.

Take on discerning truth so that our prayers and actions are informed by love.

Take on the power and the beauty and the strength that are in the dust by which we are created.

May we take on harnessing the power of dust to stand against evil.

May we take on looking for beauty, even and especially in the rubble of war.

May we take on strength that enables us to hope that we are enough and that God does miraculous things with dust.

We are created out of dust breathed into with love.

And love is stronger than war and stronger than death.

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. 

And remember the amazing things that God can do with dust.

May it be so. Amen

Cutting through the noise

 

Luke 4:21-30

Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’ ” And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.” When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

In the name of the creator, the redeemer and the sustainer. Amen

This week I’ve been particularly drawn to the last sentence in our gospel: 

he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

How that has resonated with me this week - and perhaps you too - he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

How often have you wanted to just keep walking - through the crowd and the noise, through the debates and the discussion, through the anxiety and the confusion, through the posturing and the pontificating? he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

In a week when we’ve heard more crazy about our government and the institutions that underpin the fabric of our society.

In a week when more migrants have taken to little boats in dangerous waters.

In a week when it seems world leaders have learned nothing about war.

In a week when we’ve remembered the Holocaust, pledging never again, yet knowing that hate crimes are on the rise - and seeing our culture edging closer and closer to the kind of indifference and weariness that allows such intolerance to arise in our midst, I want to retreat

I want to retreat, not to escape the noise and confusion but to get my head straight.

I want to retreat, not to ignore all that is going on but to take it all in.

I want to retreat, not to shirk what God is asking of me - but to discern it anew.

I want to retreat, not to conserve my energy but to gather my courage to jump back in.

I don’t believe Jesus passed through the midst of them and went on his way to escape what they might do to him.

I believe he kept on walking because he had work to do:

In presenting his manifesto, that came from God…

In recognising that the Spirit of God was on him, that he was appointed to bring good news for the poor, release for the captive, sight for the blind - the whole kit and caboodle…

In recognising that and in seeing how his own kith and kin reacted, Jesus needed to take time to reset, to get his head straight, to gather his courage, so that he could get back to it.

Get back to confounding years of tradition.

Get back to questioning years of entitlement.

Get back to demonstrating the costly nature of living out God’s radical message of love and inclusion.

Jesus’ call wasn’t simply to shore up the religious institutions of his day.

Or to be silent about the latest political pronouncements that condemned many to harsh lives of poverty and injustice.

His call was to question those in authority - in church and in state - and to model a new way - a way that transcends all our notions of right and wrong, that oversteps every line we could possibly imagine.

Our communities are full of tired and restless people right now.

Surviving 2 years of a global pandemic has opened our eyes to possibility - to the good that communities can do and be when they work together.

And it has opened our eyes to the appalling lack of leadership or compassion or moral compass that exists elsewhere.

We, as Christ’s body can no longer be silently compliant in the many injustices of the world.

It’s not enough to slip back into our familiar routines and practices.

As we are assaulted by a cacophony of noise in the world, 

as we witness anger and protest and discontent in our communities, 

our call is to recalibrate what God demands of us today.

To walk on through the noise of the crowds, the haters and the doubters, and to find newness of purpose in the one who called us before we were born.

As we read in Jeremiah:

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

and before you were born I consecrated you;

I appointed you a prophet to the nations…

today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms,

to pluck up and to pull down,

to destroy and to overthrow,

to build and to plant.” (Jeremiah 1:5,10)

Do not underestimate the power of taking time out to recalibrate

Do not underestimate the difference you can make

Do not underestimate the power of love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.(1Corinthians 13)

For the love of God

Amen