Young at Heart Message
 
​Several of you have asked if I was planning to share anything about my vacation with everyone.
 
I will admit it hadn’t occurred to me, mainly because I couldn’t think of a way to skillfully work it into a sermon and have it feel applicable to the scripture.
 
But, interestingly, I think I can work it in today if you allow me to take a little liberty with the text.
 
Now, to be fair, I do find it hard to work in my actual vacation, because all I did on my week off was take my dogs to a dog sports camp where we did fun things together for a few days.
 
So I’ll share a couple pictures of Lacey and Kanyon doing some Search and Rescue just for those who want to see cute pictures of my dogs doing fun things. 
 
These photos were taken as they found the “subject” they were searching for.

​There isn’t much more I can say about my vacation that’s relevant, but we did have fun.
 
However, last week I had a busy week and had to work on my usual Saturday off, so I took Wednesday and Thursday off and spent two days in Canmore.
 
What I did while I was in Canmore is what I actually want to talk about today.
 
I intentionally moved our special music to just before the sermon today because when I shared that the theme for today’s message was a play on Miley Cyrus’s song, “The Climb,” Michael told me he would sing it for us today.
 
Perfect. He’s practically preached my whole message in a three-minute song!
 
It worked out so perfectly that I wanted to make sure it was fresh in your mind.
 
“The Climb” is perfect for today’s message because when I was in Canmore, I did something I’ve never done before and I climbed an actual mountain.
 
Those of you who are connected to me on Facebook have already seen my journey, but I’ll share it today for those of you who have not yet seen it because it’s pretty cool.
 
This is my journey climbing the Mount Yamnuska trail.

​So, why share this with all of you?
 
Because Miley’s lyrics ring true for my own journey up a literal mountain, and for so many of us as we journey through life.
 
She sings, “I can almost see it, that dream I’m dreaming, but there’s a voice inside my head saying you’ll never reach it.”
 
Oh, how many times I thought about turning back or wondered if I would make it to the top.
 
She says, “there’s always gonna be another mountain, I’m always gonna wanna make it move. Always gonna be an uphill battle. Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose. Ain’t about how fast I get there. Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side. It’s the climb.”
 
And here is the truth of the matter.
 
The views from the summit of Mount Yamnuska were incredible.
 
I’m proud of myself for getting there, don’t get me wrong.
 
I won’t forget that I got to the top.
 
But you know what I will remember in far more detail?
 
I’ll remember the climb.
 
The Message
 
The Gospels are a bit like climbing a mountain if you think about it.
 
It wouldn’t be much of a story if the writers shared Jesus’ story like this:
 
He was born. It was miraculous. He performed a whole bunch of miracles. He was killed on a cross, and then he came back to life. The end.
 
If this was all there was to it, it seems unlikely that the story would still be in circulation 2000 years later.
 
It also seems unlikely that an entire religion would have been built around that story.
 
Of course, we also recognize that this just isn’t how humans function. We are storytellers at heart.
 
Jesus’ death and resurrection is of little importance without the rest of the story.
 
Certainly, the basis of Christian theology hangs on the death and resurrection of Jesus. This is the climax of the entire story.
 
No one forgets this part of the story.
 
In fact, we have an entire week of the year which focuses on the events leading up to the death and resurrection of Jesus.
 
But, we have 51 other weeks of the year which focus on the rest of Jesus’ life and works.
 
In a metaphorical sense, we get an awful lot out of the climb toward the summit of the mountain that is the story of Jesus.
 
Today’s story, for example, includes two miracles that are of incredible importance to his journey.
 
First, we receive the story of Jesus feeding the 5000 (or probably more, because it only mentions 5000 men, but there were likely also women and children around).
 
What do you suppose people who were there remembered about this story?
 
Did they remember the end result of how the food tasted and nothing more?
 
Probably not. They were probably grateful for the food in the moment, but far more inspired for the rest of their lives by the feelings of awe of being in the presence of Jesus and witnessing the miracle that allowed each and every one of them to eat.
 
Likewise, what do you suppose the disciples remembered about their crossing of the Galilee?
 
Do they remember the boat reaching the shore?
 
Again, perhaps in the moment they remember the suddenness of the boat reaching the shore.
 
But once their feet were safely on shore, I imagine they remembered for the rest of their lives being witnesses to watching Jesus walk on water.
 
The point I’m trying to make is that achieving dreams or reaching goals can be an incredible feeling in the moment.
 
But we cannot (and often do not) forget the process of getting there.
 
Imagine our lives being like climbing a mountain, with the summit being the point at which our life ends.
 
If we think about it this way, we can be certain that it isn’t about getting to the top. Rather, it’s the climb that matters.
 
It’s the way we treat people.
 
It’s the way we treat ourselves.
 
It’s kindness and compassion, joy and wonder, pain and heartache, laughter and tears.
 
It’s learning and growing, scraping our knees and hugging our loved ones.
 
It’s connection and community and relationships with other people.
 
This journey through life would not be complete without joy and pain, happiness and suffering.
 
In other words, it would not be complete without the climb.
 
Some parts are easy, and some are incredibly difficult.
 
Sometimes we don’t feel like we have enough to feed ourselves, let alone 5000 or more other people.
 
But, like Jesus, we continue the journey even when we feel like we might not have what we need to reach the top.
 
And somehow, we keep climbing.
 
And, when we do get to the top, we can look back and say “wow, look at how far I have come!”
 
I’ll share one more example from my own life to illustrate that it isn’t about the destination, but about the journey.
 
The example I’ll share is about my ordination.
 
I remember the day I was ordained.
 
I remember that I was surrounded by many people that I love and care about, and who love and care about me.
 
But if I’m being honest, that day was not all that significant in the grand scheme of the journey I was on to get there.
 
I received a call the morning of my ordination that a member of the church I was serving was in the hospital and very close to her final moments.
 
I was asked by the family to come and offer a prayer with them before she passed.
 
So, I got myself ready and dressed for my ordination and headed to the hospital.
 
I offered a prayer with her family and then I headed to church for my ordination.
 
This moment of being with a family as they prepared to lose their loved one was symbolic of the journey I was on, and a stark reminder for me that my ordination itself was not the most important thing to happen in my life.
 
It was a part of the journey – a section of the climb.
 
It felt good to get there, but I learned so much more about myself as I climbed my way to that point.
 
Likewise, when I climbed Yamnuska, I learned more about myself and what I’m capable of on the climb, not at the summit.
 
Similarly, the disciples learned more about Jesus through the act of journeying with him toward his death and resurrection than they did by witnessing his death and resurrection.
 
Of course, these things are all interconnected, and without the summit (the climax of the story), we wouldn’t have a complete story that made sense.
 
But we cannot ever discount the parts of the story that get us to the summit.
 
So, as you leave here today, I encourage you to reflect on your own journeys thus far and appreciate the elements of “the climb” that got you where you are now.
 
Look back on that path that you’ve taken and recognize how far you’ve come, because that journey, that climb, is what makes you who you are today. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Loving God, thank you for reminding us that life is not about any kind of final destination. Rather, it is about the climb - the journey from start to finish, and all that happens to make us who we are along the way.
 
We offer our gratitude today that while we venture on this journey called life, you walk by our side. You are not far away in some distant land, but instead you are with us, among us, and within us.
 
You manifest yourself in ways we would never expect, and for that, we are truly grateful.
 
We ask that you continue walking with us, showing the way when we feel lost or unsure. And, on those occasions when we forget you are still with us through it all, forgive us for not recognizing your presence in our lives.
 
All of this we pray today in your name. Amen.

​As I was researching for today’s message and reading some of the commentaries on today’s Gospel passages, I was reminded of a speech I saw years ago.
 
It was a woman named Claire Wineland who was giving a Ted talk.
 
It caught my attention back then because she was giving her speech while on oxygen.
 
Here’s a photo of her giving the speech:

Claire had Cystic Fibrosis, a genetic lung condition, and she passed away in 2018. But before she passed, she was actively advocating for people with chronic illnesses.
 
I considered sharing the entire speech with you, but it’s about 6 minutes long and not all of it is relevant, so I just want to share some highlights with you.
 
She begins her speech by saying “when you pity people who are sick, you take away their power.”
 
She goes on to say “I am sick. I will probably always be sick. And yet I am 100% content and happy with my life. 100%.”
 
Her speech talks about how we can stop pitying people and start empowering people instead.
 
She says, “the way that our society works, we teach sick people that when they are sick, somehow, someway, they cannot be as happy as normal, healthy people.”
 
“We teach them that their happiness, their contentment in life, their joy in life is tied to how healthy they are.”
 
She recounts a time as a child when she was looking through a magazine and feeling sorry for herself because she was in the hospital and not having some adventure like the people in the magazine.
 
And then she realized that she could bring happiness to her hospital room.
 
She talks about making our lives beautiful, no matter our circumstances. She says, “we can make our lives into a piece of art.”
 
She goes on to say, “we look at people who are sick and we pity them because we assume their lives must be inherently less joyous than everyone else’s.
 
“Life is not going to stop unfolding itself to you just because you’re sick.
 
“Or just because your life isn’t how you think it’s supposed to be. There’s still going to be beauty.
 
“I have lived the kind of life that all of you spend your entire lives running from. I’ve been sick and dying my entire life.
 
“And yet, I am so proud of my life. What does that say about the way we’re all living our lives?
“We’re waiting to be healthy, we’re waiting to be wealthy, we’re waiting to find our passion, we’re waiting to find our true love before we actually start living!”
 
Claire says a bit more in her speech about life and joy and suffering, but I’ll stop here because I want to point something out.
 
She doesn’t mention this – in fact, she says nothing about faith – but I believe what Claire did was make space for God’s healing.
 
She opened herself to understanding that healing might not mean what she hoped it would mean – healing, for her, was never going to mean finding a cure for her illness.
 
Healing meant finding joy and contentment within the paradigm of her life story.
 
I am not sure if you all know this, but I have the same genetic disease that Claire had.
 
There are some amazing new medications out now that are about as close to a cure as someone with Cystic Fibrosis could ask for.
 
Claire didn’t live long enough to see that reality, but she made space for God’s healing, not on her terms, but on God’s terms.
 
So how do we make space for God’s healing in our own lives?
 
Our scripture passage today leads us to make a lot of assumptions about how Jesus healed people.
 
It says “the people brought their sick to him. They begged him to let them just touch his clothes, and everyone who did was healed.”
 
I think we automatically read that and assume that everyone was instantly cured of their ailments.
 
But what if, instead, they made space and opened themselves to healing in ways that go beyond anything physical?
 
What if we did this?
 
Earlier in today’s passage, Jesus recognizes that his disciples had not had a chance to eat, so he invites them to go with him so they can all rest.
 
Jesus invites his disciples to make space for healing – not necessarily because they were sick, but because they were exhausted and needed to care for their bodies and their souls.
 
I think this concept of making space for healing is difficult for people to understand, especially if they have not experienced examples of it in their own lives.
 
Like Claire, my Dad was sick most of his life.
 
He of course had different health issues than she did, but I grew up in a household in which we all knew Dad was sick, and my parents especially knew that his time here with us may be shorter than most people expect to get.
 
But I never, ever saw anyone in my family pity my Dad, and I never saw my Dad pity himself.
 
In fact, it was quite the opposite – Dad knew he was not ever going to be cured. His body was too damaged, and when multiple organs fail, it causes a snowball effect.
 
If you fix one thing, the other organs have already taken their beating, and in order to fix those, you have to damage something else.
 
Dad knew this. And yet, he modeled for me and my sister a life that left space for God’s healing.
 
He modeled a life that wasn’t about pity, but was about beauty and joy.
 
My parents did things together and they prioritized time together because they knew their time could be cut short at any time.
 
We did things as a family and we enjoyed life as best we could, and I would argue that compared to many average-income families I knew, we got to do more and take more “adventures” growing up because my parents didn’t want to miss out on life.
 
There was no Jesus (not in the literal sense anyway) that we could go to, touch his clothes, and have my dad be “cured.”
 
But my Dad was empowered to make space for God’s healing nonetheless.
 
That healing didn’t look like a body that was perfectly healthy.
 
Expecting that would have been unrealistic for my Dad, and would have just led to ongoing disappointment, or perhaps even anger toward God.
 
But, opening himself up and making space for God’s healing, in whatever form that took, allowed him to view his life differently.
 
It allowed him to demonstrate for his children this idea that Claire mentions – that contrary to what society wants us to believe, his happiness, his contentment, and his joy was not tied to how healthy he was.
 
It was tied, instead, to the joy he created around him, and to the space he made to allow himself to be healed beyond his physical body.
 
I share these stories so that we can reimagine what healing means in the context of these Gospel stories.
 
I do believe the writers were intending to imply “curing of all ailments” when they were writing.
 
But if we go into life expecting that every ailment we ever have will be cured, we may end up disappointed, depressed, or angry with God.
 
If instead we leave our healing in God’s hands, if we make space for God to share with us what healing might look like for us, we may receive an answer we did not expect.
 
Let us choose to make space for God’s healing power in our lives and be open to discovering what that might mean for us, even if our physical bodies may not be able to be “cured.”
 
Let us seek out the little things that allow us to, as Claire said, be “100% content and happy” with our lives.
 
May you open yourself to the healing power of God.
 
May you let God help you discover what healing might mean for you.
 
And, may you live your life with beauty and joy. 
 
Amen.
 
Let’s pray:
 
God of compassion, teach us to follow you, to trust you, to love you, and to love as you love.

​God of compassion, feed those of us who are hungry - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Allow us to open our hearts and minds to your healing power, setting aside our own expectations and opening ourselves instead to the healing possibilities we could not even begin to imagine.
 
God, teach us to have compassion for others as you do. Help us to show compassion in action the way you do. Remind us when it is time to come away with you for quiet and rest.
 
God, in your mercy, have compassion for us.
 
We pray all of this in your Holy name. Amen.