Young at Heart Message

This past week, I had the opportunity to attend the morning session of a workshop put on by the Calgary Alliance for the Common Good.

I will admit that when I showed up there, I was not expecting to be participating in this workshop.
​
I was expecting it to be a conversation with my Lutheran colleagues around the concept of “welcoming the stranger.”
 
It turned out to be an ecumenical gathering of Christians from a number of different denominations, including a Deacon in the Catholic Church.
 
The topic was still about “welcoming the stranger,” so at least I got that part right.
 
I was only there for a few hours, but what I took away just from that morning session was priceless – it gave me a lot to think about in terms of our ministry here at Good Shepherd.
 
We began that session by introducing ourselves and answering a few questions about our faith and our churches.
 
I thought it might be of value today to take a few minutes to answer some of these questions ourselves.
 
We won’t have time to go around the whole room and ask everyone here the questions, but as we have done several times before, I would love to hear at least some of your answers to these questions.
 
I would also like to ask our AV team to summarize our answers for us so we can mull over our answers, perhaps another day.
 
So I have three questions that I want to ask today. I will ask one question at a time. I’d like to give one minute of silence after I ask the question for you to think about it before I ask for responses.
 
The first question is this:
 
Why does this church matter to you?
 
What does our church do well?
 
What could our church do better?
 
Wonderful, thank you to everyone who responded!
 
These questions aren’t necessarily easy questions, and the final question especially requires some significant self-awareness among our membership to be able to really dive into the things we could do better as a community.
 
And of course, these are questions we can continue to ponder and wonder about together as we move forward as a community of Christ followers.
 
The Message
 
But, now that we’ve answered those questions for ourselves, let’s talk about why these questions matter.
 
Many of our answers to these questions beg more questions.
 
For example:
 
·       What is the role of the church?
·       Why do we need it?
·       What is our responsibility to it?
 
And, perhaps the most important question we must ask is this: what would Jesus think about the way we do church?
 
In our scripture passage today, Jesus’ words were clear:
 
Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
 
That’s it.
 
And yet, within those fourteen simple words derives a tremendous amount of complexity and uncertainty, it seems, in our world today.
 
We don’t always love one another, do we?
 
There are some people in the world who seem incredibly difficult to love.
 
But Jesus didn’t say “love one another… except…”
 
He said “love one another…” period.
 
I wonder, then, if this is the guidance we need to determine the answers to some of the questions we asked earlier.
 
·       What is the role of the church?
·       Why do we need it?
·       What is our responsibility to it?
 
It seems to me, the answer must have something to do with loving one another.
 
One of the things that came up in the workshop this week was a phrase I hadn’t heard before, but which really resonated with me.
 
It is the idea of “poverty of experience.”
 
What does this mean?
 
Well, I took it to mean that, very often, we lack perspective on things we have not personally experienced before.
 
I could give you many, many examples of this, but the one I want to specifically address today is poverty of experience around the plight of immigrants and refugees.
 
We currently have at least five people who have been coming to our church regularly who are dealing with the immigration process in one way or another.
 
And, as we know, two of our new members specifically are refugees.
 
Most of us have significant “poverty of experience” when it comes to what immigrants and refugees deal with when moving to a new country.
 
And now, our church has a slightly better idea because we personally know people who are going through the process.
 
And, because we have heard at least part of their story and have had the opportunity to get to know them, we have learned a bit more about their experience and what is involved in the process.
 
And, we have grown to love them as part of our community.
 
But, I want to point out a significant element of “closing the gap” on our poverty of experience around these issues:
 
They found us. We did not seek them out.
 
They became a part of our community, and we got to know them and love them and learn about their experience because they found us.
 
But, going back to our questions again about the role of the church, why we need it, and what our responsibility is to it, I wonder what it would mean for us to step outside of our comfort zone and reach out to others in similar situations?
 
Who are the people in our community that we have a responsibility to (as part of Huntington Hills, Calgary, Alberta, or Canada) that we have not yet met?
 
Stick with me here for a minute, because it does come back to love.
 
Do we have a responsibility to anyone other than ourselves and those who find us?
 
When we ask who we might have a responsibility to that we have not yet met, I am talking about anyone in the surrounding community who has not yet walked through our doors.
 
And, I’m talking also about the next generation of people who aren’t yet born.
 
Can the love that Jesus commands extend to all those we have not yet met?
 
If so, how?
 
I know that it can sound overwhelming. And, we cannot possibly address every concern within our own community, let alone the entire city of Calgary or the entire province of Alberta.
 
But, as we think about what Jesus meant when he told us to love one another, we do have a responsibility to think outside the walls of our own church community.
 
And I know what many of you are thinking.
 
There are only so many of us, and we only have so much energy, and that energy seems to be waning.
 
All of that may be true. But Jesus didn’t say “love one another, except… when you’re tired and your energy has depleted.”
 
We do a wonderful job of welcoming the stranger who walks through our doors.
 
Jesus would approve of that, I think!
 
And yet, he might push us to stretch our notion of love beyond ourselves.
 
To look at the resources we have and the assets we hold and wonder together how we could use them to best serve people beyond the walls of our church.
 
Are there other ways we could help immigrants and refugees, for example?
 
Instead of merely welcoming the stranger when they walk through our doors, could we invite them to walk with us in community?
 
Could we accept Jesus’ pat on the back that we have done a great job welcoming the stranger, and also walk with him as he pushes us to take the next step?
 
And what might that look like?
 
As we close today’s message, I would ask us all to just ponder these questions. 
 
There are a lot of questions I’ve thrown out today.
 
And some of it is my own way of mulling these things over myself.
 
As a pastor, it’s my job to ask these questions and wonder if there is more we could be doing in our ministry and if so, what that might look like.
 
But it’s not just my job. It is our job. Jesus certainly didn’t expect only pastors to be thinking about these things.
 
Pastors come and go from church communities, but the community itself remains to serve and love one another.
 
What that service and love looks like evolves and changes over time.
 
But we must continue to ask these hard questions in order to bear witness to evolution and change, and in order to bear witness to the love we are consistently called to share with others.
 
Jesus invites us each and every day to love one another as he loved us.
 
His love extended well beyond the boundaries of his own people and his own community.
 
And, it extended far beyond the generation of people he met. His love extended through time and space to meet us here.
 
So, as we go from this place to love and serve one another, may we wonder together how we can love as Jesus loved us and extend that love beyond the boundaries of our church community.
 
May we continue to welcome and love the strangers who walk through our doors.
 
And, may we consider how we can extend that love to all of those we have not yet met, and what that might mean in our context.
 
Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
God of welcome, God of the stranger. We come as strangers. We come as those who you welcome. We come as those called to welcome.
Christ, who reached across all lines, Messiah who looked the “other” in the eyes with love. Challenge us with your radical example of love. Stretch us to engage the way you engage. Humble us to receive and be.
 
Spirit who challenges, Spirit who connects, Urge us to compassion, Break down our resistance, Strengthen our resolve, Tear open our hearts, Mobilize our minds, Flow through our bodies, as Your vessels who will be conduits of welcome, compassion, justice and love. Amen.

​Young at Heart Message
​
It occurred to me as I was preparing for this week’s message that you all have not been blessed with a pastor who talks too much about her dogs.

I need to remedy that!

I know that Psalm 23 is very often associated with death.

People often request Psalm 23 be read at their bedside when they are close to death, and it is often requested for funerals.
 
And don’t get me wrong – I love using Psalm 23 in that capacity. It offers comfort and hope to people as they transition from this life to the next.
 
But, Psalm 23 is not just a Psalm for the dying. It is also very much a Psalm for the living.
 
And each time I hear this Psalm and think about the Lord as a Shepherd, I think about my dog Lacey.
 
Lacey is a Great Pyrenees.
 
Those of you who have seen Lacey recently know that her hair has been shaved. As she’s gotten older, this has become necessary for her.
 
But, in her prime, this is what she looked like:

​For those of you who don’t know, Pyrenees are livestock guardian dogs.
 
They are bred to watch flocks of sheep or goats, particularly in the mountains.
 
They watch, defend, protect, care for, and fiercely love their flock. Kind of like mothers!
 
Now, Lacey has never had a flock to guard, per se.
 
Unless, of course, you consider her household her “flock.”

​Or maybe this actual flock she encountered at camp a couple summers ago…

​One of the traits of a Pyrenees is that they can appear to be sleeping or resting, or even lazy.

​But they are ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice:

​Taking a break to care for your human…

​Lacey has taught me a lot about working hard and playing hard. She’s taught me about balance.
 
And, she’s taught me a lot about God.
 
I can relate to the imagery of the Lord as my shepherd because I have had the joy of sharing my life with a “shepherd.”
 
And now, you all have had a little glimpse into what being a shepherd means. Lacey doesn’t know it, but being a shepherd also means being a teacher.
 
The Message
 
Now that we have a “real-world” example of at least one type of shepherd, I want to look a bit more closely at Psalm 23.
 
You might be wondering what I could possibly say about this well-known passage.
 
It’s a good question, so let’s explore it a bit more.
 
The versions most of us are familiar with are either the King James version, or the New King James version.
 
The version we heard earlier was the New King James version. The King James version uses “thee” and “thou” but otherwise sounds mostly the same.
 
But, what happens if we read a different version?
 
The version I’d like us to hear now is from a version of the Bible called The Message.
 
If you have never read this version before, it is a very accessible, easy-to-understand version of the Bible.
 
It does not attempt to translate word-for-word like many versions do.
 
Instead, it translates based on concepts and the idea each passage is trying to convey.
 
So, let’s read The Message version. I’ll read it slowly and intentionally, and as I do, I want you to ponder the ways in which this version might resonate for you.
 
Particularly in your life today – not necessarily on your death bed. 
 
God, my shepherd!
    I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
    you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
    you let me catch my breath
    and send me in the right direction.
 
Even when the way goes through
    Death Valley,
I’m not afraid
    when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd’s crook
    makes me feel secure.
 
You serve me a six-course dinner
    right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
    my cup brims with blessing.
 
Your beauty and love chase after me
    every day of my life.
I’m back home in the house of God
    for the rest of my life.
 
Does this version feel different to you?
 
God, my shepherd! I don’t need a thing.
 
Right away, I bring to my mind’s eye the image of a shepherd providing for the flock’s every need.
 
Unlike the line “I shall not want,” which sounds a bit more like I am trying to convince myself that God has provided for me, this version confidently has me realizing that my needs are met already, here and now, by God.
 
You have bedded me down in lush meadows, you find me quiet pools to drink from. You let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction.
 
Again, this version puts God right by my side. When I stray, God gently guides me back. When I need to rest or revive my body or soul, God provides for that, too.
 
Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.
 
This line traditionally is why so many people like this Psalm read at their deathbed or at their funeral. The NKJV version reads, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”
 
It wouldn’t have to be read as though one is dying, but it is often understood that way.
 
However, The Message version reads:
 
Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side. Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure.
 
This imagery doesn’t invite us to think that “Death Valley” means the end. A valley might be a low point, but inevitably on either side of a valley, we can go back up again.
 
And, if we imagine being in that valley with God as our shepherd at our side, this invites images of hope for those of us who are very much still alive.
 
The last few lines of this version read:
 
You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies. You revive my drooping head, and my cups brims with blessing.
 
Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. I’m back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.
 
This doesn’t sound like death’s doorway. This sounds like coming home.
 
This version would have God right with us, every single moment of every single day – within us, around us, through us, above and below us – protecting us, comforting us, guiding us, helping us to see the beauty all around us, and so, so much more.
 
It provides an incredible hope, even as we go through challenges, grief, pain, or suffering of any kind.
 
As we conclude this discussion on Psalm 23, I want to share with you a poem.
 
I’m sharing this poem because of the sense of “coming home” that Psalm 23 can provide – regardless of which version we hear or read.
 
The poem I want to share is called “Please Come Home” by Jane Hooper.
 
I invite you to close your eyes or soften your gaze and allow your body and mind to rest in the words as you hear them.
 
May you hear whatever it is you need to hear today in this poem:
 
Please come home. Please come home.
Find the place where your feet know where to walk
And follow your own trail home.
 
Please come home. Please come home into your own body,
Your own vessel, your own earth.
Please come home into each and every cell,
And fully into the space that surrounds you.
 
Please come home. Please come home to trusting yourself,
And your instincts and your ways and your knowings,
And even the particular quirks of your personality.
 
Please come home. Please come home and once you are firmly there,
Please stay home awhile and come to a deep rest within.
Please treasure your home. Please love and embrace your home.
Please get a deep, deep sense of what it’s like to be truly home.
 
Please come home. Please come home
For you belong here now. You belong among us.
Please inhabit your place fully so we can learn from you,
From your voice and your ways and your presence.
 
Please come home. Please come home.
And when you feel yourself home, please welcome us too,
For we too forget that we belong and are welcome,
And that we are called to express fully who we are.
 
Please come home. Please come home.
You and you and you and me.
 
Please come home. Please come home.
 
Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
God of wonder and beauty, thank you for welcoming us home. Thank you for loving us just as we are. Thank you for being our shepherd - for protecting us, guiding us, offering us grace and compassion, and fiercely loving us such that we can take your love and share it with the world. We are grateful for every walk through the valley, and every climb toward the sun. May your fierce love and compassion surround us everywhere we go. Amen.

The Message

This week’s scripture readings follow on the heels of last week’s scripture, in which Peter responds to the accusations of the jury he had to answer to by saying, “We must obey God rather than human beings!”

Last week, I talked about the challenges to obeying God in a world where multiple power forces converge to try to stifle the teachings of Jesus.
​
And of course, those challenges existed in the time of the disciples, and they still exist now.
 
I mentioned that the challenge is that many humans are motivated by power, authority, money, and control. And, inevitably, the humans who end up in leadership roles are not usually an exception to this.
 
I want to remind us all of the example I gave last week for why obeying God is so difficult before we move into talking about this week’s scriptures.
 
Last week, I said the following:
 
I don’t like green peppers. I would be perfectly happy to see legislation outlawing green peppers.
 
If I were a single-issue voter, and there was a candidate who was prepared to outlaw green peppers, I would vote for that candidate no matter what.
 
But, other people like green peppers. They add flavour to foods, they are healthy, and they are inexpensive.
 
If green peppers were outlawed, it would be good for me personally, but it wouldn’t necessarily be good for everyone else.
 
We talked last week about how this example is silly, of course, but it is how many people think about much bigger issues.
 
Peter, for example, was a devoted follower of Jesus, and if we could ask him, I think he would probably say that he was doing his best to “obey God.”
 
But, it is no secret that Peter struggled to trust Jesus and obey him completely.
 
Peter had a lot of questions and doubts. And I appreciate that about Peter because he helps many people to feel better about the fact that they have a lot of questions, too.
 
Peter also, as we just heard through Lent and Easter, denied Jesus three times. So, despite his very best efforts to obey and trust Jesus, he still failed when it mattered most.
 
Today, we see Jesus offer Peter grace despite his failures. And I appreciate that, too, because Peter receives from Jesus the grace that we all need from time to time.
 
Perhaps the more interesting passage from today’s readings is the passage about Saul.
 
Saul, as we know, becomes the incredibly devoted Paul who wrote many letters to various communities which have been recorded in the Bible.
 
But in today’s passage from Acts, we see a totally different Paul. We see him before he becomes Paul.
 
Before his encounter with the risen Jesus, Saul is devoted to fairly aggressively threatening and persecuting Jesus’s disciples.
 
The passage uses the phrase “breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples.”
 
That’s not such a great look, admittedly.
 
Saul believes so strongly in his cause that he was blinded by rage.
 
Interestingly, what he is really fighting for is his own spiritual cause. He’s fighting to preserve the Jewish laws and customs, and he’s fighting against the idea that Jesus was the Messiah.
 
If we go back to my green pepper statement for the sake of discussion, it would be like me going out publicly and trying to ban green peppers.
 
If I believed that I was doing God’s work by trying to get green peppers banned, and there were other people out there trying to make green peppers required with every meal because God told them so, we’d be in a similar situation to Saul.
 
So, how do I know if I’m right, of they are right?
 
Unfortunately, for many people, including Saul, it might take a really big “sign” to change the mind of someone who believes so passionately about something.
 
Saul got a visit from the resurrected Jesus.
 
That’s a pretty big sign.
 
But most of the rest of us don’t get those kinds of signs.
 
For me, I might need to personally know someone who can explain to me how banning green peppers might affect them personally.
 
Maybe my sister would need to tell me that green peppers are the only peppers she can eat.
 
Banning them would mean that she wouldn’t get to enjoy the flavour that peppers can add to her food because she can only eat green peppers.
 
The point here is this: Peter and Saul both demonstrate for us this notion that obeying God can be difficult and complex.
 
And, sometimes, we believe so strongly that we are right about something that it takes a very big “sign” to help us realize we may not be right, or that we may need to evolve our thinking.
 
Or, at the very least, to help us realize that other people might have different opinions and very good reasons for feeling differently than we do.
 
Jesus didn’t reprimand Saul. Jesus offered him an olive branch and let Saul make his own choice.
 
Saul could have chosen to continue his persecution. He could have chosen not to believe his eyes and his ears.
 
Many people make that choice because it is easier than confronting their possible biases.
 
But, Saul chose to obey. Saul chose to trust. And, he ended up changing his mind. Or, more accurately, he ended up evolving his thinking.
 
Instead of feeling ashamed for defending what he thought was what God wanted, Saul opened his mind and heart to another possibility.
 
He welcomed the change, and recognized that he didn’t know what he didn’t know. He received the proof he needed that prompted him to walk a different path.
 
It is the case for us, too, that God confronts us in ways that might make us uncomfortable initially.
 
I am sure that Saul was thinking “oh, crud. I was wrong.” He was probably trying to figure out every way possible to ignore this new information – this proof.
 
I am sure he was uncomfortable. But he opened himself up to the possibility that he was wrong.
 
And we must sometimes do the same.
 
I will admit… I might be wrong about banning green peppers. It might not be as black and white, or as “all or nothing” as I thought it should be.
 
So, may we all consider opening ourselves to new possibilities and ways of thinking.
 
We all have our “green pepper” issues. And we all struggle sometimes to understand the perspective of other people.
 
May we consider opening our eyes to the ways in which God might speak to us – perhaps through a big “sign,” but more likely through our relationships with other people and through listening to the lived experiences of others.
 
May we listen for God, wonder with God, and invite God to open our hearts to a better understanding of the world and of those around us who are different than we are.
 
May we work to trust God and the ways that God works in our own lives. Amen.
 
Let us pray: Gracious God, we do not always know if we are obeying and trusting in you, or in our own wants and desires. Forgive us when we stray from your path, and help lovingly guide us back when we wander.
 
Help us to feel your presence in our lives and to discern what it is you want from us in the ways we will understand. This may look different for each one of us, but we pray that with your guidance, we will be able to walk the path you wish us to walk. In your loving name we pray. Amen.

Young at Heart Message

Imagine with me for a moment…

Imagine I am young – say 10 years old.

At 10, I’m curious about the world, and I explore that world with all my senses. I try new things, and I learn about the world by observing or experiencing the consequences of my actions.
​
Now, imagine I live on a farm with a beautiful chicken coop. I’ve been around this chicken coop my whole life, so it’s not new to me.
 
But, what IS new to me is my discovery of this lighter.
 
Fire is fascinating, and I just discovered that I can create fire using this lighter. I’d like to play with it a little bit and see what happens when I ignite different things.
 
But, I also know that if I get caught playing with it, I’ll get into trouble.
 
So, I decide to play with it in the chicken coop where no one will see me.
 
I pick up a piece of straw in the chicken coop and I put the lighter to it to see what happens.
 
I figure there’s no real danger of doing this – after all, it’s just one piece of straw.
 
But, when I put the flame to the end of the straw, I don’t anticipate how quickly the flame will burn through that one small piece of straw.
 
It crawls quickly toward my fingers, and I get worried and drop the piece of straw.
 
But, it’s still ignited, and now it’s also lit the piece of straw next to it.
 
I’m not sure what to do, but I know I should probably cover it with something to put the fire out.
 
The only thing around is more straw, so I grab a handful and put it over the burning straw.
 
Whew! All I see now is smoke, so I breathe a sigh of relief that the fire is out.
 
I watch for a moment, but I notice the smoke isn’t stopping, and then I notice a small flame.
 
OK, I must not have snuffed it out with enough straw. So I put a huge pile of straw over the small flame.
 
The fire seems to be snuffed out completely now – I don’t see anymore smoke or flames. I watch it for a minute just to make sure.
 
All seems OK, so I breathe a sigh of relief, grab my lighter, and head back inside before anyone finds me.
 
About 10 minutes later, I hear my parents yelling that the chicken coop is on fire!
 
The adults in the room know that trying to snuff out a fire using flammable materials isn’t going to get us very far.
 
But, a child may not know that – what seems obvious to us isn’t always obvious to them.
 
Burying a fire with straw isn’t going to be effective in putting out the fire. Burying it will only cause it to spread further.
 
The Message
 
And this is where we find Peter and the Apostles today.
 
Multiple forces have been trying to bury Jesus and anyone associated with him.
 
But, the flame had already been lit, and trying to bury him was only causing more and more people to catch fire (metaphorically).
 
When I read this passage, I had to research what the Sanhedrin was.
 
According to my Google search, it can be defined in the following way:
 
The Sanhedrin was a Jewish legislative and judicial assembly in ancient Israel, functioning at both local and central levels. It was a council of elders or a senate, with the Great Sanhedrin in Jerusalem holding the highest authority. The term "Sanhedrin" itself means "council" or "sitting together" in Greek.
 
This trial that the apostles are dealing with comes on the heels of their miraculous escape from prison.
 
You might be wondering why Peter and the apostles were in prison in the first place.
 
They got into trouble because of their healing miracles and their insistence that Jesus was the only name by which humankind could be saved.
 
However, if you were a Roman in the time of the apostles, you knew that Augustus Caesar was the sole saviour of the world.
 
Therefore, this new group of people going around saying that Jesus was actually the sole saviour of the world was seen as a threat to the Roman Empire.
 
From their perspective, Jesus was an imposter whose name should not be associated with the titles the emperor had justly earned.
 
However, as we know, there is a huge difference between the actions of Jesus and the actions of the emperor.
 
The Roman emperor would have exercised absolute power in order to maintain his status.
 
Jesus, however, sacrificed his power and status in the process of bringing salvation to everyone.
 
The Roman emperor abused power and used violence to claim the status of saviour.
 
Jesus, on the other hand, was crucified, which was an act of solidarity with the marginalized. This is what ultimately made Jesus saviour.
 
People had been encouraged, or perhaps even forced, to believe that the Roman emperor was their saviour, despite the fact that they were coerced into believing it.
 
So when Jesus came along and contradicted the emperor, he started a fire among people who were thirsty for change.
 
Thirsty people are like dry straw – once they catch fire, that fire spreads quickly and it is difficult to bury or snuff out.
 
By the time we see the apostles at this trial, the flames have spread to a point where they are essentially out of control.
 
There are multiple powers now trying to suppress the Jesus movement.
 
While on trial, Peter and the other apostles are reminded that they were explicitly told not to teach in Jesus’ name.
 
Peter responds by saying “We must obey God rather than human beings!”
 
This line is heavy in a world where there are multiple power forces converging to try to stifle the teachings of Jesus.
 
And, it is a heavy line in every era after this, from the time of the apostles to now.
 
Why? Well, because power, money, authority, and control are motivating factors for many humans, including, often, those elected or appointed to lead.
 
Obeying God instead of obeying human beings can be quite difficult in any world where human beings lead other human beings, and in any world where those same human beings – the leaders and the led – are motivated by their own individualistic concerns.
 
Leaders are often motivated not by doing the best for the most people, but by doing the best for themselves, including whatever will allow them to stay in control.
 
And, the general population tends to be motivated by whatever is in their own best interest.
 
So, for example, I don’t like green peppers. I would be perfectly happy to see legislation outlawing green peppers.
 
If I were a single-issue voter, and there was a candidate who was prepared to outlaw green peppers, I would vote for that candidate no matter what.
 
But, other people like green peppers. They add flavour to foods, they are healthy, and they are inexpensive.
 
If green peppers were outlawed, it would be good for me personally, but it wouldn’t necessarily be good for everyone else.
 
Now of course, that’s a silly example. But if we translate that to larger issues, we can see how people can very quickly lose sight of the big picture because all they can see is how they personally might be impacted.
 
So, when Peter says “We must obey God rather than human beings,” we can quickly see how this might actually be much easier said than done.
 
When power structures and individual motivations are at play in our lives, we can easily lose sight of what God might want because of our personal motivations.
 
God may want people to have access to green peppers, but because I personally don’t like them, I can easily lose sight of what God might want in lieu of my own desires.
 
Likewise, it can be difficult for me to see how God might want something for other people that I don’t want for myself.
 
We can begin to see how obeying God can easily become quite difficult and complicated, especially when we are talking about a community or society where everyone has different perspectives and opinions.
 
And, often, people have different opinions while both maintaining that their opinion is what God wants!
 
So, how do we reconcile these things?
 
Well, it’s not easy, but Peter does give us the “tip of the iceberg” answer. He points us to Jesus and his example, and the movement of the Holy Spirit among those who obey God.
 
I say this is just the “tip of the iceberg” because we can see how complicated it truly is.
 
But, we can start by looking just at our own lives, and we can lean on God to guide us in the small things so that we can get better at letting God lead for the bigger things.
 
If we are able to do this consistently in our own lives, it will become easier to see when others may be leading us astray (or when others may be working from their own selfish motivations rather than wondering with God what the answer might be).
 
If we are able to learn from the work Jesus did while he was on earth and wonder with God how Jesus’ example might be speaking to us in our own lives, we may begin to learn how to notice God’s movement in more of our day-to-day life.
 
As my Spiritual Director likes to remind me: wisdom is not knowing more; wisdom is knowing with more of yourself.
 
May we allow the flame of Jesus’ life and teachings to ignite in us a spirit of wonder and joy.
 
May we lean into knowing God with more of ourselves, and may we have the wisdom to know when we might be straying from God’s path.
 
Amen.
 
Loving God, we like to think that life is simple, and that we have all the answers to complicated questions and differences of opinion. Help us to listen for Your guiding voice. Help us to use Jesus as an example in our own lives when we aren’t sure what the right answer might be to the difficult questions. Walk with us as we journey together and continue to navigate a complicated world, reminding us over and over again that we are called to love and care for others without judgement. Amen.

Our Lenten Sermon Series is a series on women surrounding Jesus leading up to his death and resurrection. We are using materials from Reverend Kathryn Schreiber and her "in the big love living liturgies." Because this material is copyrighted, it will not be available on our website. Please consider joining us for worship during Lent this year, or speak with Pastor Jamie to get more information on this sermon series.

Kathryn's website is: www.inthebiglove.com. Many thanks to her for making her sermon series available to other pastors. She did a wonderful job compiling information and resources.

​Young at Heart Message
 
Earlier this week while I was driving, I noticed that my back windshield was so dirty, I couldn’t see cars in my blind spot because I couldn’t see through the parts of the windshield that didn’t get wiped by the back wiper.
 
So, I decided that it was time to get my car washed.
 
Everyone else must have had the same idea, because I waited in line for 45 minutes!
 
But, I finally got through the car wash, and promptly moved on with my day.
 
I headed to the gym, worked out, and when I left the gym, it took me a minute to find my car.
 
I didn’t even recognize my own vehicle because it was shining so vividly blue.
 
I had become accustomed to the dirty brownish colour that my vehicle had become over the winter.
 
It was covered with months worth of dirt and grime from the wet and slushy snow and the pickle mix that they tend to spread here in Calgary.
 
After it had been washed, all of that grime had come off. My car quite literally sparkled in the sunlight.
 
Compared to the other vehicles around mine, it was definitely shining the brightest.
 
I have to imagine that if the other cars could speak, they would be jealous of how clean mine looked!
 
In light of the transfiguration stories that we heard today, I started thinking about how brightly my car shined after the dirt and grime and other things that were muting its light had been washed away.
 
I began to wonder what we might be (metaphorically) holding onto or layered with that might be preventing us from shining.
 
For example, Moses held onto a lot of insecurity and anxiety about his ability to speak on behalf of his people.
 
He held onto so much of this insecurity that God tells Moses to have his brother Aaron speak on his behalf.
 
Moses also holds onto uncertainty, along with quite a bit of frustration over the complaints of the Israelites after they leave their slavery in Egypt.
 
So, by the time he climbs Mount Sinai and talks with God on this occasion, he is pretty bogged down with his own “stuff” that’s preventing his light from shining.
 
Moses comes down from Mount Sinai after talking with God and has no idea that his skin is shining.
 
Aaron and all the Israelites are afraid to come near him because of his dazzling appearance.
 
However, we know, from another part of this story, that Moses—tucked away in the cleft of the rock—only saw God’s back.
 
“You shall see my back; but my face shall not be seen” (Exod. 33:23).
 
So Moses isn’t shining because he saw God on the mountain. Moses is shining because God saw him.
 
All of this begs the question, then: what might be bogging us down or holding us back from shining so brightly?
 
What needs to be “washed away,” or what might we need to let go of in order for our light to shine as brightly as Moses or Jesus after being seen by God?
 
I’d like to take a minute to create our own list of the things that might be preventing our light from shining.
 
Our AV people will type our responses in for us.
 
Feel free to just throw your thoughts out.
 
These can be generic things, or something you might actually be holding on to that you feel you could let go of.
 
The Message
 
I wanted to create this list together because, as many of you know, I took a brief personal retreat this week.
 
Some of you may remember during my sermon last week, I shared a story called “Acornology,” in which we talked about acorns needing to be planted in order to become their “True, Oak Tree Selves.”
 
I spent a lot of time thinking about this metaphor during my retreat and wondering about it for my own life.
 
The metaphor asks us to consider what we need to let go of, or what parts of ourselves or the things we hold tightly to do we need to let “die” in order to allow ourselves to break free from the acorn shell and become the mighty oak tree.
 
As I was contemplating this for myself, I thought to myself, “if I only knew what the goal of becoming the Oak Tree was, I could take steps to get there!”
 
But, this is exactly the problem.
 
Becoming the Oak Tree, or “True Self,” is not a goal to be achieved.
 
It is not as though once I become the oak tree, I am done.
 
That’s it!
 
Become Oak Tree – check! One more thing off the to-do list!
 
Instead, I began to contemplate some of the things I need to try to let “die,” or let go of, in order to allow my acorn self to be planted.
 
The list we made earlier is similar in many ways to the list I made for myself.
 
What if Moses and Jesus were offering us examples of what this “dying before we die” looks like?
 
What if it is a foreshadowing of death and resurrection, but not of actual, bodily death and resurrection.
 
What if, instead, it is a spiritual death and resurrection?
 
Moses and Elijah speak with Jesus on the mountain top about his “departure.” The Greek word is the same as the word “exodus.”
 
In other words, they are talking with Jesus about his own death.
 
Peter suggests that they put up tents and just stay together on the mountain. Then Jesus would not have to die.
 
But Jesus knows that he must die.
 
Not only must he die a physical, bodily death, but he must show his disciples and his followers how to die to his acorn self before he dies a physical death so that he can become his True, manifested, spiritual self.
 
This brings us back to the question about what we are grasping on to that we might need to allow to die so that we can be planted and see what will grow from our outer shell – our seed.
 
Perhaps we need to let go of achievement as the ultimate goal, as I discovered about myself.
 
Perhaps we need to let go of worry and anxiety.
 
Some of us may need to let go of past hurts that are keeping our light from shining.
 
Some of us may need to break down the walls around our hearts that we’ve built to protect ourselves, but that ultimately keep us from extending our love outward to others.
 
Perhaps we need to let go of distractions, physical things that clutter our lives, or guilt and shame about something from our past that we cannot change.
 
The story of Transfiguration is an unexplainable mystery.
 
But, that mystery ushers us into the season of Lent with an invitation to die so that we can allow ourselves to be raised to new life.
 
Grasping – holding tight to the dirt and the grime that hides our true colours – prevents us from shining brightly.
 
I’d like you to try something with me quickly.
 
Hold your hands tightly in a fist, as though you are grasping onto something for dear life.
 
How does that feel? For me, it feels tense and uncomfortable.
 
Now, slowly open your fists.
 
Does this feel different? For me, it feels like a comfortable release – an opening up – an invitation to receive what God may be offering me.
 
Lent invites us to release what we are grasping on to and wash ourselves of any grime and dirt so that our light can shine through brilliantly and beautifully.
 
By pointing us toward the cross (and resurrection) the Transfiguration story prepares us to enter the season of Lent with hope rather than fear or doubt.
 
So, as we enter the Lenten season, I invite you all to ponder this question of what you may need to “die” to in order to fully live.
 
It is not an easy question. It is one that you may need to ruminate on throughout the Lenten season and beyond.
 
But it is a question worth asking, and Lent invites us to do so.
 
Moses and Jesus show us what happens when God sees us.
 
This notion of letting go – of dying – so that what God sees in us can shine for the world to see – is the Good News of the Transfiguration.
 
May we wash ourselves of the things that keep us from shining brightly. God can always see beyond the dirt and grime. May we open ourselves up so that we can see what God sees underneath.
 
May we delight in God as God delights in us. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Holy One, today we are grateful for so much. The sunshine, the blue skies, the warmer weather, and even the wind that has helped move the warm air and melt most of the snow and ice. We are grateful for the transformation from cold to warm, from winter to spring-like weather. Even as we know we are not fully through the winter, this transformation gives us hope for the future.
 
In the same way, the Transfiguration gives us hope for the future. We are grateful that you see through the things we are grasping and holding on to. We are grateful that you see our light underneath whatever dirt and grime the winter of our hearts has covered us with. We pray that you would help us let go of or die to the things we hold tightly to such that we could allow our brilliant light to shine for all to see. God, we delight in you just as you delight in us. Amen.

​Young at Heart Message
 
I would like to start today’s message by reading a story I found recently in a book by Cynthia Bourgeault called The Wisdom Way of Knowing.
 
The story she shares she calls “Acornology.”
 
It goes like this:
 
“Once upon a time, in a not-so-faraway land, there was a kingdom of acorns, nestled at the foot of a grand old oak tree.

​“Since the citizens of this kingdom were modern, fully Westernized acorns, they went about their business with purposeful energy… and they engaged in a lot of self-help courses.
 
“There were seminars called “Getting All You Can out of Your Shell.” There were woundedness and recovery groups for acorns who had been bruised in their original fall from the tree.
 
“There were spas for oiling and polishing those shells and various acornopathic therapies to enhance longevity and well-being.

​“One day, in the midst of this kingdom, there suddenly appeared a knotty little stranger, apparently dropped “out of the blue” by a passing bird.
 
“He was capless and dirty, making an immediate negative impression on his fellow acorns.
 
“And crouched beneath the oak tree, he stammered out a wild tale.

​“Delusional thinking, obviously, the other acorns concluded, but one of them continued to engage him in conversation: ‘So tell us, how would we become that tree?’
 
“ ‘Well,’ said he, pointing downward, ‘it has something to do with going into the ground… and cracking open the shell.’
 
“ ‘Insane,’ they responded. ‘Totally morbid! Why, then we wouldn’t be acorns anymore!’ ”

​The point of this story, of course, is that an acorn is only a seed.
 
Its true destiny – its True Self – is to become an oak tree.
 
But, when you are an acorn looking around at other acorns, it would be impossible to believe that any one of you could grow into a mighty oak tree.
 
The size difference alone makes it impossible to believe!
 
The Message
 
How do we apply this parable, if you will, to ourselves?
 
We assume that the person that moves around the world making choices and doing our thing is who we are.
 
But, really, that person is the acorn. Inside the acorn is a vastly more majestic destiny and a True Self who lives within it.
 
But this oak tree of ourselves can only come into being if it lets go of its acorn.
 
But, this journey toward full selfhood is more than just an awakening. It involves a letting go that is also a dying.
 
This sounds an awful lot like Paul’s words in the 1 Corinthians passage we heard today: “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.”
 
In other words, the seeds you plant cannot not come to life unless they die.
 
The seed – the acorn – in its natural form, must “die” in order to grow into its full and True Self.
 
Paul says our bodies are planted as our natural bodies, but raised as our spiritual bodies.
 
He goes on to say that if there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. The spiritual did not come first, but the natural, and after that, the spiritual.
 
Finally, he says “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.”
 
Our “natural selves” – the acorn part – the seeds of our True Self cannot inherit the Kingdom of God. Only our spiritual selves – our True Selves – are able to do that.
 
From the same book, Cynthia says, “The ‘Kingdom of Heaven’ is not a place we go after we die, but is a way of being present here and now that makes us transparent to the light.”
 
But what does this mean?
 
The Sufi mystic Rumi explains it this way:
 
The Mystery of “Die before you Die” is this:
That the gifts come after your dying and not before.
Except for dying, you artful schemer,
No other skill impresses God. One divine gift
Is better than a hundred kinds of exertion.
Your efforts are assailed from a hundred sides,
And the favor depends on your dying.
The trustworthy have already put this to the test.
 
The acorn must “die” in order to become its true, destined, manifested self. And, we must “die,” too, to become our True Selves.
 
Essentially, what Paul is referring to, is surrender.
 
This idea of surrender is the transformation from the “acorn self” to the “oak tree self,” brought about by an act of letting go.
 
Contrary to popular opinion, surrender is not cowardice.
 
Surrender is an act of spiritual power because it opens the heart directly to wisdom and energy.
 
We must let our attachments to things, to patterns of behavior, and to old ways of thinking die. We must surrender ourselves to the possibility of new ideas and new ways of being in the world.
 
And of course, like most of the things that Jesus and other prophets and teachers in the Bible and throughout history suggest, surrender is not easy.
 
Surrendering to this type of dying requires presence and awareness that we are often blind to.
 
Let me offer an every day example of this type of surrender.
 
One day when I was still living back in Wisconsin, I’d had a stressful day and had a lot on my mind.
 
I was waiting for a friend, and they were running late, so I decided to go for a walk through a nearby marsh.
 
I was annoyed and having a hard time letting go of the negative feelings I had toward the day.
 
I was caught up in my own “stuff,” not really paying attention to anything at all.
 
Then, suddenly, I walked near the marsh and stopped dead in my tracks.
 
All I could hear around me was a cacophony of sound – the marsh was consumed by the sounds of water, bugs, frogs, birds, wind, etc. I had never heard so much noise happening at once.
 
I was mesmerized. In an instant, every worry and concern I had disappeared as I listened to the noises in the marsh.
 
I stood there listening for at least 10 minutes, until my cell phone ringing brought me out of my trance.
 
I hadn’t even realized that much time had passed, and now I was late to meet my friend!
 
I had surrendered in that moment to the delight of the life-giving sounds of the marsh.
 
And, I was able to relax enough to notice the life quite literally buzzing all around me.
 
This is a small and simple act of surrender – a dying of sorts to the negative energy I was holding which allowed space for a truer, more delightful and positive energy.
 
It is a small example of what Paul is trying to convey to the Corinthians.
 
Remember, the Kingdom of Heaven is not a place we go after we die. It’s a way of being present here and now that makes us transparent to the light.
 
Sometimes, being present to our own realities can be quite difficult.
 
I was stressed and grumbly and, quite frankly, I was not particularly happy to be “present” in that moment fully. I would rather have been somewhere else.
 
In fact, I probably had wished several times that I could be somewhere else.
 
But, that marsh drew me back to my present.
 
Perhaps I had a glimpse of this notion that the Kingdom of Heaven is a way of being present here and now.
 
I wonder how much the 1 Corinthians passage and this new thought about the Kingdom of Heaven ties into the Luke passage we heard today about loving our enemies?
 
In the world today, it seems that loving our enemies has become harder and harder to do.
 
Jesus tells us to “do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”
 
This can, at times, feel difficult or even impossible.
 
And yet, we are reminded to be fully present in the moment. Fully present with our negative feelings toward our enemies, while at the same time blessing them and praying for them.
 
Whew! That’s tough!
 
But I’m reminded of a body prayer I learned recently that can help when we’re feeling some heavy feelings of negativity toward our enemies, or toward life in general.
 
Some of you may remember the prayer that I offered back in October when I was sick with COVID and we met online.
 
I’ll share it with you now as the conclusion to this sermon. We’ll do it together 3 times, so feel free to join in from your seats if you wish.
 
The prayer is a reminder to be present in the moment, just as we are, just as the world is. Even if we come with bad feelings toward someone or something. Even if we are feeling down or defeated like I was that day at the marsh.
 
This reminds us to be fully present and to be open to surrender so that we can see the world for what it is, even as we are feeling bogged down with our own worries and cares.
 
The prayer goes like this:
 
1.   Here I am… as I am
2.   In the world… as it is
3.   Supported by the earth
4.   Floating in the cosmos
5.   Awake
6.   To the heart of love
 
*Repeat 3 times*
 
May you be fully present and alive as you leave this place and you go about your business this week.
 
May you see yourself as the acorn, ready to be planted and fulfill your destiny as the mighty oak.
 
May you love your enemies and find yourself in the Kingdom of Heaven – not a place to go after you die but instead, a way of being present here and now that makes you transparent to the light.
 
Amen!

​The Message
 
Today’s sermon was hard to come by. The scriptures we heard today should have been easy to think of something to preach about.
 
And yet, as any pastor will tell you, sometimes it is difficult to determine where to go on any given Sunday morning.
 
As I pondered the scriptures and tried to figure out what God might want said, I remembered a poem by Marianne Williamson that I want to share.
 
I am actually going to read it twice, pausing in between to allow her words to sink in.
 
It goes like this:
 
Our deepest fear
     is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear
     is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light,
     not our darkness,
              that most frightens us.
 
We ask ourselves,
     who am I to be brilliant,
              gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
 
Actually, who are you not to be?
 
You are a child of God.
 
Your playing small
     doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
     so that other people
              won’t feel insecure around you.
 
We were born to make manifest
     the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us;
     it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
     we unconsciously give other people
              permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
     our presence automatically liberates others.
 
Silence
 
I’ll read it one more time:
 
Our deepest fear
     is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear
     is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light,
     not our darkness,
              that most frightens us.
 
We ask ourselves,
     who am I to be brilliant,
              gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
 
Actually, who are you not to be?
 
You are a child of God.
 
Your playing small
     doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
     so that other people
              won’t feel insecure around you.
 
We were born to make manifest
     the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us;
     it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
     we unconsciously give other people
              permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
     our presence automatically liberates others.
 
Jeremiah says that “blessed is one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”
 
Blessed are we who trust in God.
 
Like the tree planted by the water, we do not fear our own light.

​We are children of God, and as such, diminishing ourselves – shrinking our own being such that we take up as little space in the world as possible – hides the glory of God that is within each of us.
 
The tree that Jeremiah describes isn’t afraid to take up its space along the stream.
 
The tree knows that spreading its roots allows it to be nourished, to grow leaves, and to fulfill its purpose as part of God’s creation.

​And, like that tree, we must allow ourselves to rest in the nourishment of God’s grace and love.
 
Jesus says “blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are you who hunger, blessed are you who weep, blessed are you when people hate you.”
 
In other words, blessed are those of us who are frightened by our own light within.
 
Blessed are those of us who do not let our own light shine for fear that others will put our light out.
 
The tree planted by the stream is not anxious about what it is or where its water will come from.
 
There is a sense of peace and contentment, of trust and delight.
 
The tree trusts fully in that stream – in God’s grace that allows it to bloom each season.
 
And so it should be for us.
 
But, both Jeremiah and Jesus caution us today, as well.
 
The tree does not fear or worry, but the tree also does not believe that it became the mighty tree it is of its own accord.
 
The tree would not be sturdy, lush, and green without the stream.
 
Jeremiah warns us of this. He tells us that “cursed is the one who trusts in man… and whose heart turns away from the Lord. That person will be like a bush in the wastelands.”
 
And Jesus also gives a warning: “woe to you who are rich, woe to you who are well fed, woe to you who laugh, woe to you when everyone speaks well of you.”
 
In other words, be careful not to become so arrogant that you might believe that you have come into riches, or fulfillment, or contentment of you own accord.
 
We should not cover our own light – the parts of us where God shines through.
 
But neither should we assume that light within us is ours and ours alone.
 
Likewise, the tree should not assume that it is lush and content on its own. Without the stream, the tree would be no more than a bush in the wastelands.
We are children of God. Diminishing the light of God within us does not serve the world.
 
We are nourished by God, like the tree is nourished by the stream.
 
For example, not too long ago – perhaps a couple weeks – I had been going through a streak of not sleeping well.
 
I lifted that to God one night and just asked that God might help me to sleep well so I could be the best version of myself when I woke up.
 
I woke the next morning having slept better than I’d slept in a long while.
 
I sprung from bed, excited to start my day.
 
I ate breakfast and showered, going through everything I hoped to accomplish that day.
 
I made tea and sat down to read and journal a bit, and as I did, I suddenly remembered my prayer from the night before.
 
While I was subconsciously grateful for the great sleep, I also woke assuming I had slept well because of something I had done.
 
I relaxed before bed, I journaled, I prayed, I stretched, I drank a cup of herbal tea – I allowed myself the proper wind down.
 
It was all me! I slept well on my own!
 
And then I remembered my prayer and realized that I could in no way assume that everything I’d done had been the reason for my good sleep.
 
Those were the same things I did every night before bed.
 
The difference was that I had taken “nourishment” from God. I had planted myself by God’s stream, and asked God to nourish me.
 
And then I woke up and didn’t thank God. I didn’t even acknowledge the stream of nourishment that I’d so desperately planted myself next to the night before.
 
Woe to you who are rich. Cursed is the one who trusts in man.
 
I realized just how it easy it is to assume I’m on my own, and that God is nowhere to be found, when all along, I have planted myself such that I can readily drink from that stream of nourishment that God provides.
Blessed are those of us who are poor in spirit – who hunger for the presence of God and don’t necessarily notice when God is flowing right beneath us.
 
And blessed are those of us who are afraid to spread our roots, worried that by doing so, we might inconvenience others.
 
May you receive nourishment from God’s stream, allowing your roots to stretch along the stream’s bank and nourishing your spirit so that you are able to truly bloom.
 
May you make manifest the glory of God within you.
 
And, may you let your light shine, giving others permission to do the same.
 
Let us conclude with Marianne Williamson’s poem one more time before we pray:
 
Our deepest fear
     is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear
     is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light,
     not our darkness,
              that most frightens us.
 
We ask ourselves,
     who am I to be brilliant,
              gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
 
Actually, who are you not to be?
 
You are a child of God.
 
Your playing small
     doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
     so that other people
              won’t feel insecure around you.
 
We were born to make manifest
     the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us;
     it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
     we unconsciously give other people
              permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
     our presence automatically liberates others.
 
Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Nourishing God, thank you for allowing us to plant ourselves next to your stream of living water. Help us overcome our fear and let our light shine, giving to others even a small portion of the nourishment you give to us. Remind us that we are your children, and as such, we were born to let our light shine in the world to serve others. Thank you for your regular reminders of your love for us. In your holy name we pray. Amen.

Young at Heart Message
 
I wonder how many of you can relate to this:
 
I used to work as an Executive Assistant at a large company.
 
Of course, that company had a computer network and an entire IT department.
 
Whenever something would go wrong with my computer, I had to call someone in IT to have them help me fix it.
 
Unlike my own computer at home, I was very limited in terms of what I could do to fix my work computer.
 
The one thing I could do, though, was turn the computer off and turn it back on and see if that fixed the problem.
 
Inevitably, every time I had a computer issue, I would turn the computer off and back on, and the issue wouldn’t be fixed. So, I would call IT.
 
And, what do you suppose IT tells you to do?
 
Turn off the computer and turn it back on.
 
And, of course, I would say, “I already tried that.”
 
And what would they say?
 
“Try it again.”
 
What do you suppose happened next?
 
Voila! 99% of the time, when IT told me to turn it off and turn it back on, it would magically work, despite the fact that I already tried that.
 
Here’s another, more recent story that perhaps you can relate to:
 
Some of you may know that a couple weeks ago, my car wouldn’t start.
 
Someone from church very kindly came to jumpstart my battery to help see if that was the issue.
 
We got the car started, and I drove it around a bit – perhaps 15-20 minutes total.
 
I turned the car off, thinking all was well, only to come back out 30 minutes later to a car that wouldn’t start again.
 
Another very kind church member came to jumpstart my battery again, and then followed me to the shop so I could have them take a look and replace the battery if needed.
 
What do you suppose happened?
 
I arrived at the shop, and they did their battery tests, and lo and behold – the battery was working fine. They said it had 85% life left.
 
Of course when you get the vehicle to the shop, they’ll tell you nothing is wrong with it!
 
Just like the IT department assumes you’re either lying or you’re nuts when you tell them you turned your computer off and back on already and it didn’t help, the car works just fine when you get it to the shop.
 
These things might actually be some kind of universal law.
 
We try something – sometimes trying multiple times, or at least giving it quite the valiant effort with no luck – and then the professional comes along and tells you to do the same thing again.
 
You humour them and try again, skeptically, only to look a fool when you said it wouldn’t work, and suddenly, the thing you’ve already tried works like you never tried in the first place!
 
The Message
 
I cannot be the only one who has had experiences like this.
 
Because most of us have experienced this before, we can relate to how Simon Peter feels when they’d been out fishing all night, dropping their nets over and over again and not catching any fish.
 
Then Jesus comes along and tells them to go do the same exact thing they’ve been doing all night to no avail.
 
They go and drop their nets, and voila! Like magic, they catch so many fish that their boat almost capsizes!
 
And now, Peter looks a fool because he told Jesus they’d already tried that.
 
This is basically the 1st century version of the IT person or the auto mechanic appearing to be a magician.
 
Peter has not met Jesus before now. I can only imagine he thinks this is some kind of sorcery.
 
And yet, it is a perfect example of our very human resistance to follow God’s call.
 
We saw it last week when we read from the Book of Jeremiah. When God calls Jeremiah to be a prophet, Jeremiah says, “I do not know how to speak; I am too young.”
 
God chuckles at this and says “sure you do!” God touches Jeremiah’s lips, and lo and behold – Jeremiah can speak as a prophet.
 
From our vantage point, we might wonder, “who wouldn’t want to be a prophet and follow God’s call?”
 
As it turns out, a lot of the prophets didn’t initially want to be prophets or follow God’s call.
 
Moses, when encountering the burning bush, says to God, “who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (Exodus 3:11)
 
Elijah, afraid of Jezebel, runs into the wilderness and asks God to take his life. “I have had enough, Lord,” he pleas. (1 Kings 19: 2-5)
 
Jonah literally ran away from his calling. (Jonah 1:3)
 
Similarly, Ezekiel isn’t too pleased to be carried away by the Spirit either: The Spirit then lifted me up and took me away, and I went in bitterness and in the anger of my spirit, with the strong hand of the Lord on me. (Ezekiel 3:14)
 
And, of course, in the New Testament we see this constant push-back from Jesus’ disciples, starting with Simon Peter by the Lake of Gennesaret.
 
I actually like all of these stories because they all demonstrate just how normal it is to feel uncertainty about our call.
 
And, more importantly, they demonstrate each person’s journey toward what I will call “becoming.” Each of these prophets or disciples becomes exactly who God created them to be.
 
But, part of that journey for each of them was acknowledging their own resistance.
 
I don’t know if you remember, but nearly a year ago during Lent, we spent weeks following Simon Peter’s journey as he wrestled with his call and repeatedly questioned Jesus.
 
I don’t know how many times Simon Peter tells Jesus that what Jesus is asking is impossible, only to be proven wrong time and time again.
 
But it is in Simon Peter’s journey that we watch his story of “becoming” unfold.
 
Are there times in your life in which you have experienced a similar resistance, thinking “ugh, God, I’ve already tried this! Why do you keep pushing me to try again? It never works.”
 
And then, all the sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, you try again and voila! Like magic, the thing you resisted for so long works.
 
I’ll try to give you an example from my own life.
 
For a very long time – most of my life, in fact – I resisted my call to ministry.
 
Well, perhaps more accurately, I wasn’t aware that God was calling me to ministry at all. I did not hear God ask, ”Whom shall I send?”
 
And yet, somehow, despite my resistance to organized religion and Church, I kept skirting around religion.
 
It just kept showing up!
 
I chose to leave the Catholic Church and explored the Lutheran Church in high school.
 
I went to University and studied and explored Buddhism and Hinduism academically, and I explored the Baha’i faith on a personal level.
 
I graduated with a degree in Religious Studies and eventually got a job working for a company at which I got to work with people on their own faith journeys of exploration.
 
I landed a part-time gig as a church office manager.
 
Then my ex-partner invited me to his church, and I very reluctantly went along, which sparked my curiosity about Christianity and prompted me to decide to go to Seminary.
 
BUT, it’s important to note that I had no intention, even at that point, of becoming a pastor. God, by the way, had to have been laughing at this point.
 
Then I found the Moravian Church.
 
Throughout my journey, I imagine God repeatedly felt like Jesus felt with Simon Peter.
 
Jamie! Get it together! I know you’re going to end up a pastor – you can’t get around it. Just get on with it already!
 
But, like Simon Peter, I had to ask a million questions. I had to go in circles a bit.
 
I had to make sure God knew that I’d already tried to get back into religion and the church and it didn’t seem to be working for me.
 
And then, like Jesus tells Simon Peter to try once more, God told me to try again. God kept asking, “Whom shall I send?”
 
And finally, I sighed and said “Here I am. Send me!”
 
Suddenly, I was on a journey of becoming – a path I continue to walk. I continue to wrestle with God, ask hard questions, and, sometimes, resist God’s call.
 
And I bet you do, too. Because we are human. We are no different than Simon Peter.
 
We are each on our own journey of “becoming.”
 
It is beautiful. It can be painful. It can be difficult. It can take us outside of our comfort zone. But it always surprises us and delights us when, like magic, we know we are no longer resisting what God wants for us.
 
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the nets we’ve cast over and over again without success are filled to the brim with metaphorical fish.
 
And Jesus looks at us with a knowing smile and says, “see, I told you. All you had to do was trust me, leave your resistance behind, and follow me.”
 
And in doing so, we humbly begin our journey toward our true self, called by God, setting aside our resistance, and delighting in the joy of becoming.
 
God asks “Whom shall I send?” And we finally respond “I will go. Send me!” Amen.
 
Let us pray:
​
God of compassion, help us to trust you and to welcome your call into your hearts. When we hear you whispering, wondering “Whom shall I send?,” give us the courage to boldly respond “I will go. Send me!” Help us to set aside fear of the unknown and step bravely toward you, setting aside any resistance we may feel. Guide us into your loving embrace and hold us there, delighting in your mystery, your love, your acceptance, and your grace. In your holy name, we pray. Amen.

Young at Heart Message
 
Did you all know that we have in our midst the best guitar player in all of Calgary today, and he owns the very best guitar in the city?
 
Do you want to hear him play a song?
 
John, come on up and play a song for us and show off that amazing guitar you have.
 
John plays us a song.
 
What did you all think? Pretty awesome, right?
 
Wait, it wasn’t awesome?
 
Why do you think it didn’t sound that great? He’s the best guitar player in the city, and he’s playing the best guitar!
 
The problem with his guitar is that, for the strings to work, they have to be held tightly by two points. In other words, the strings need to be holding tension.
 
These guitar strings aren’t holding any tension. As you can see, the strings are very loose.
 
So, when John tried to strum the strings, they didn’t sound right because they weren’t holding any tension.
 
So, even if John was the best guitar player in the whole world, not just in Calgary, and he was playing the very best guitar in the world, without any tension on the strings, he cannot make a beautiful sound.
 
The Message
 
Thank you John for helping us demonstrate Paul’s point in our scripture passage today.
 
We heard one of the most common scriptures read from the Bible about love. 1 Corinthians 13 is often read at weddings as a reminder to the couple of what it means to love one another, even as things get difficult in their marriage.
 
Paul reminds us that love is not always easy.
 
The kind of love he talks about goes far beyond the emotional love that we think of, particularly when we think about the kind of love that couples experience.
 
Paul is talking about something far deeper. He’s talking about the love we experience between ourselves and God, between one another, and the love we hold for ourselves.
 
But, he throws us a word of caution, too.
 
He starts out by telling us that no matter how amazing we think we are, no matter how much better we think we are than others, no matter how “right” we are, without love, we have nothing.
 
Paul says, “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I have nothing.”
 
This is an incredibly humbling statement he’s making.
 
Often, we believe that if we are just good people – if we give what we can, if we volunteer our time, if we extend kindness to others – we are good to go.
 
But Paul says that even if we do all of that, but don’t hold space for love, we have nothing.
 
Now, our actions often say more about us than our words do, so doing these things might be a demonstration of love.
 
But if, instead, we do these things to make ourselves feel good rather than doing it for others, or if we do them for other selfish reasons rather than as a demonstration of love, we ultimately have nothing. 
 
I’ll try to offer an example from an experience I once had.
 
When I first returned to the church, I was attending a non-denominational church. After a few months of attending, I learned that the pastor was an interim, and they were beginning their search for a new pastor.
 
In that process, they invited three potential candidates to come preach to the congregation. The first two came to preach two weeks in a row, one after the other.
 
But the third candidate wasn’t able to accommodate their schedule for over a month.
 
When he finally came to preach, he swept into that church and gave a charismatic sermon in which he spent most of the time boasting about how amazing he was and the wonderful things he did (on behalf of God, of course).
 
He had a way of invoking people’s emotions – people were crying and carrying on in ways I had never seen happen in that church.
 
No one knew this man, and yet he was able to play on their emotions and, in my opinion, manipulate them quite easily to rouse an emotional response that had nothing to do with God.
 
I wanted to run from that place. But I forced myself to stay, and at the end of the sermon, this preacher said something I will never forget.
 
He said “my wife and I are quite prophetic, so if you have been wanting answers from God about something, I invite you to come forward after the service and we can lay our hands on you and God will speak to you through us.”
 
Now, maybe this man and his wife did have the gift of prophecy that Paul mentions in his letter to the Corinthians. Maybe they could “fathom all mysteries and all knowledge.” Maybe they did “have a faith that can move mountains.”
 
But there was no love there. There was no trust.
 
People put their faith in that man that day. God was nowhere to be found. It was entirely about him.
 
That’s why Paul starts this passage with a word of caution.
 
He goes on to say what we most often remember from this passage: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not self-seeking, or easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs.
 
Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
 
Paul is talking, just like in last week’s scripture, about wholeness and completeness. You can be the most amazing person on earth, but without humility, without this love that is patient, kind, not envious or boastful or rude, you have nothing.
 
Essentially, you cannot think you are the most amazing person in the world and also be the most amazing person in the world.
 
Truly amazing people love others in the way Paul describes, and they love themselves in the way that Paul describes, but most of all, they love God in the way Paul describes.
 
Loving God ultimately means demonstrating that love toward others, but not for selfish gain.
 
And, while Paul doesn’t say this, I would add that love is risky. We put our hearts on the line when we extend our love to others. We also put our hearts on the line when we commit to loving God.
 
Why?
 
Well, anyone in this room who has ever prayed for something incredibly important to them and has not had that prayer answered likely has questioned God. Perhaps your heart broke a little bit, or a lot, when that prayer wasn’t answered.
 
Perhaps your trust in God waned. Perhaps anger and hurt bubbled over and out and engulfed you like flames, pulling you further from God.
 
Loving God is risky. Opening your heart to other people is risky. There is always a chance you’ll be hurt.
 
And yet, it is often, or perhaps always, worth the risk.
 
As I was writing this sermon, I originally made that statement – that loving people is often, or perhaps always worth the risk – and I moved on to my next point.
 
But as I thought more about this, I realized that I need to say something about why loving is worth the risk.
 
I will admit that opening my heart in this way – to this deep, abiding love – has led to hurt in my past.
 
I think that’s true for many people. We love deeply, and then we lose someone. Or we love deeply and then that person leaves us. Or perhaps even worse, that person hurts us in small ways over months or years.
 
Sometimes, people hurt us so deeply that it can take a very long time to recover. So, what do we do?
 
We put up walls around our hearts which keep us from allowing us to love others deeply.
 
These walls keep us safe, but they also might keep us from taking the risk of loving others as deeply again in the future.
 
But opening ourselves to that risk is worth it because this kind of love goes far beyond the superficial love we see in romance movies or novels.
 
The kind of love Paul is talking about is a love that changes us and the world around us.
 
This kind of love creates a deepness and a richness to life that helps us create purpose and meaning.
 
It allows us to be fully present with people – to hear them, to see them, and to appreciate even the things about them that might not jive with our own personalities or preferences.
 
Even if we end up loving this deeply only to be hurt down the road, it is the kind of love that we would do over and over again, accepting the potential for hurt as part of the value of loving in such a rich and meaningful way.
 
We cannot become wholly ourselves until we have learned to love in this deep, abiding way that Paul speaks of.
 
Much like the best guitar in the world cannot play the most beautiful music without tension in the strings, we cannot be our full, complete selves without this kind of love.
 
We must accept the risk of hurt in order to move fully into our True Self. 
 
We must build trust with ourselves, with others, and with God.
 
That man that came to preach at the church I went to long ago was missing the most important part of his message, which is what wasn’t said. He had not built trust with the congregation. He had not demonstrated kindness or patience.
 
Instead, he was boastful and proud and self-seeking. He felt good about himself by placing himself above the rest of us, and above God.
 
May we learn from my experience, and may we open our hearts to the possibility of this deep, abiding love that Paul speaks of.
 
May we accept the risk of allowing ourselves to be patient and kind, to trust, protect, hope, and persevere.
 
May we rest in God’s loving embrace, extending that same love to those we meet, softening our hearts and breaking down walls we’ve created so that we can become whole.
 
May we remember that love is patient and kind.
 
May we know fully, even as we are fully known, and may we remember that no matter what, these three things remain: faith, hope, and love.
 
But the greatest of these is love. Amen.
​
Our prayer today is more of a reflection on love than a prayer, but I thought it worth sharing. This is a slightly modified version of a reflection called “Love Is,” by Roddy Hamilton.

Love is… hugs
Love is… a kind word or gesture
Love is… when two become one
Love is… friendship
Love is… sharing laughter, joy, and pain
Love is… hard to explain
Love is… unbelievable
Love is… unpredictable
Love is… endless
Love is… protection
Love is… a rollercoaster we’d ride over and over
Love is… a smile
Love is… a heartbeat
Love is… patient
Love is… kind
Love is… a never ending story
Love is… eternal
Love is… a circle of friends
Love is… steadfast
Love is… wholeness and completeness
Love is God, and God is love. Amen.