dinner church - sundays @ 5:30pm

f J e O a Y r

This week’s sacred story comes from Isaiah 42:1-9. You can read the full text here. We also experience the story of the shepherds through Godly Play, watch it here. (Stop at 8:09 to leave a little mystery for future weeks).


JOY in the midst of fear.

The weeks leading up to the mystery of Christmas are full of wonder - Not just the wide-eyed bushy-tailed adoring wonder of awe and delight, but also the wonder of questions, confusion, and chaos.  Through the prophet Isaiah, we see God’s promise to bring forth justice. In the story of Godly Play, the poor and outcast shepherds are invited to Bethlehem, to go and see a child who is changing everything.  It IS wonder-FUL. This season is mixed with many kinds of wonder. For each promise of joy, there is also a kind of loss…fear…grief. 

Bringing forth justice also means letting former things pass away. Going to Bethlehem means leaving the fields that are home. This changing reality disrupts our expectations and our plans.  Whether people or places or our situation changes for better or for worse, there is still an experience of grief.  We have lost something. The way we imagined things would be. We experience all kinds of loss – the loss of a person, the loss of an identity, the loss of a dream, the loss of a relationship, the loss of work or of meaningful work,  the loss of health, the loss of something so small we didn’t even realized we cared so much about it until it was no longer there.

The process of letting go, of letting former things be former things is difficult, and frightening, and long, and not a straight line of progress we can push through. When we’re in the midst of it, the promise of “new things” that God is doing? Seems vague, even hollow.  How could it be anything else when the ground seems to continually move underneath us? Sometimes even a song of joy, peace, and goodwill…sound frightening because it’s different than what we know or are experiencing.  Like the whole of life, in this season of Advent, joy and fear are all tangled up together.


It’s like that jumbled pile of cords that…even once you’ve figured out which one is your headphones, which one is the power cord, which ones go to this or that, even once you’ve worked them free…it’s like a law of the universe that they’ll end up tangled again. And when I get so frustrated and hopeless with it all that I throw the ball of cords against the wall and vow to go off the grid and give up on everything, when my heart is beating so loudly it seems to be the only thing I can hear…another voice enters the conversation.  Scripture tells us that the angels proclaim to quivering souls, “do not be afraid.” But my heart hears, “I know. I know it’s frustrating and crazy and wild and impossible and painful and just all too much. I know…do not be afraid.”

Only when I feel like the one who speaks hope has actually heard and understood my sorrow and complexity, can I also hear and maybe even possibly understand this word of hope. Only then can I release a little bit of the former things in order to be open for a new thing, because I don’t feel like I holding the former thing by myself.  Only in this kind of sacred community which has space for both joy and pain, frustration and delight, can I begin to imagine that the light has not gone out, but is changing. 

So I wonder….which part of you or your life is marked by grief, loss, hurt or confusion? For what part of your soul, do you long to hear God’s voice declare, “I know. I know.” ?

And holding this in your mind and in your heart, I invite you to pray with me: O God of former things and new things, we ask you to make your presence known. Sit with us in our waiting and our wondering. Speak your word of comfort and of hope to us, remind us that we’re not alone. Guard and guide us as we encounter the tangles of life. Help us in our work along this way. Put a song of joy in the air, and help us to hear it.  Keep singing to us; sing good news of joy and peace and goodwill until the rhythm of our hearts take up the tune as well. We are restless, but we find rest in you. We pray in the name of the child born in Bethlehem, who is changing everything. Amen.

Prepare ye...for an arrival

This week’s sacred story comes from Esther 4:1-17. You can read the full story here.

We also experience the story of the Holy Family through Godly Play. Watch it here (stop at 5:42 to leave a little mystery for future weeks).


Everything is changing.  This is the time to prepare.  This is the time to prepare for a transition.  This is the time to prepare for an arrival.

During this time many people are hosting guests and getting ready for other people to come into their sacred space. Friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, and plus ones are coming over. How do you get ready to welcome them? As my brother and his wife prepared for our arrival at Thanksgiving, they cleaned up space in the attic for us to stay, made sure they had food we liked (sugary cereals and fresh Brooklyn bagels), shifted their plans and schedules to make time to spend with us, and they checked in with us as made the journey. Sometimes there was a lot to physically and practically DO to get ready, and sometimes, the waiting was just…waiting.

As Mark and I prepared for the arrival of our baby, Marley, we were preparing to welcome a child into our home and into our family, but also preparing to become parents. Sometimes it seems it takes just as much if not more preparation to become pregnant. And even then, the road may take you to a different place than you thought. For us, along the way, this meant lots of checkups and the doctor’s office to tend to our health, gathering all the stuff a baby needs, and learning how it all works.  Seriously, it practically requires a training course to be able to set up and take down a pack-n-play crib. But it is even more subtle to try and learn how to respond to the all cries and colors and all the needs of an infant that you still don’t really know yet.

 As we prepare for an arrival, we prepare for something other- something different and distinct from ourselves to come into our midst. And that will certainly change our routines.

 Mary prepares for pregnancy, for travel, for birth, for motherhood. She may not have had google or a library or Target, but she had the wisdom and generosity of family, friends, elders, and even angels.


Queen Esther is confronted by the cries of her uncle Mordecai and essentially the whole Hebrew people, who face genocide from a political rival who has successfully blamed them for every bad thing in the kingdom. I imagine Esther prepares by weighing her options and their potential for survival, then practicing her speech to the king - what she will wear, what she will say, evaluating what resources she has in relationship to make a difference.


While Esther now has the title of queen, she’s still an ethnic minority, the daughter of a people who can’t go home, a foreigner, and…a woman in the ancient world.  Mary is an unwed mother without much money or an important family name to protect her. Esther and Mary are nobody special.  They are just names of people we would otherwise pass by. And yet, they are crucial to God’s work and word in the world.  We would not know divine liberation and we would not have Christmas without these women, and without the ways they wrestled with getting ready.

What’s unique about the story of Esther is that the name of God is virtually never mentioned, bringing us to ask, where is God in this story? But perhaps unlike other stories and experience, because this story is part of our sacred text, we expect to find God here, even in the in between moments.  We get ready to see God in between the lines here We prepare for God to arrive.

So I wonder, what if you saw your life as part for God’s sacred story? And expected God to show up? To be there, even in the middle parts between the bigger moments, even when you think you’re nobody special? I wonder how you prepare for the arrival of joy, of hope, of peace, of love – in others distinct and different from you.  But also, I wonder how you prepare for the arrival of joy, hope, peace, and love…not just outside and around you, but in you. I wonder how this changes your routine and your heart. Let it be. Amen.

Stop. Watch. Pay attention

This week’s sacred story comes from the prophet Habakkuk, specifically Habakkuk 1:1-7; 2:1-4; 3:[3b-6], 17-19. For the full story, read here. In addition to the scripture text, we experience the story of prophet through Godly Play. Watch it here (stop at 3:50 to leave a little mystery for future weeks).

habakkuk (1).jpg

Prophets, like Habakkuk, are often described as messengers. A prophet usually rises from among an anxious and waiting people.  They often speak of an impending transition, a shift, a change – in thinking and in practice.


Sometimes, the word of a prophet can be considered as harsh, speaking critically to a people who have lost their way. But Jewish scholar, Abraham Heschel, reflected that it is not a world devoid of meaning that evokes the prophet’s consternation, but a world deaf to meaning. Again, it is not a world devoid of meaning that evokes the prophet’s consternation, but a world deaf to meaning. Stop. Watch. Pay attention.  Something incredible is going to happen here.

In these days, it seems as though our world is longing for something to change. 


We read, see, and hear

Violence, injustice, destruction

In our families, in our work, in our relationships

In tear gas, in discrimination, in the well-being of our climate

We long for a change, a transition something else, to peace, equality, and life.

Transitions are that time in between. The space between what was and what will be, between remembering, and grief, and lament…and hope…and fear.

I want to invite you to remember a time when you were in transition. If you feel you’re in transition now, think of another time in the past. Think of a time in between coming from something, and going to something else.  Perhaps it was something beyond your control. Maybe it was a “come to Jesus” moment. Maybe it was a time where you didn’t know what would come next or weren’t sure.

Got a memory in mind?

Now, I want you to reflect on…in what ways was God with you in that transition? 

In what ways was God pointing/leading you forward?

How does the recognition of God in your life then, help you to reflect on what God is doing in you now?

Tonight begins the Jewish celebration of Hanukkah, the festival of lights, which remembers the time that the people only had enough oil in the temple lamps to last a single day, and they feared running out before the celebration was over. But the oil didn’t run out. There was enough to last.

The prophet Habakkuk remind us that when the promised new day seems to tarry, to take too damn long, we are reminded that it IS coming. And that we can release our worries for rejoicing, in a defiant hallelujah that refuses to be silenced.  Rejoice: to echo joy again. Because we do not live in a world devoid of joy, but one that is often blind to it. In these days we are reminded that when the night seems darkest, there is always enough light for today.

What do you want, God?

This week’s sacred story comes from the prophet Micah, specifically Micah [1:3-5]; 5:2-5a; 6:6-8 . For the full story, read here.


Isn't it amazing how bargaining with God and bribery in general remains pretty much the same whether you're in the ancient Middle East or modern day Texas? As a parent, I am not 100% against bribery - a system of popsicle-based rewards has its place. And as a human, I am not immune to this habit of trying to make God exist on my terms. It starts of fairly reasonable. With what shall I come before God on high? Burnt offering and yearling livestock is pretty standard and actually a part of the ancient tradition. But when that hasn't made me feel good enough, things start to get desperate - more extreme and ultimately ridiculous? Thousands of rams? Who even has that? Rivers of oil? Ain't nobody in the world got that. Perhaps we even come to the point of trying to appease and/or control God with our bodies or the bodies of others. We wake up hungover from exhaustive attempts to be happy, or worthy, or in charge of it all and make offers that we still don't have the ability to keep.

You may not try offer God rivers of oil or your first born, but we try plenty of other things. Even if our head knows better, our broken hearts tell us that maybe….maybe we'd actually have value to God and the world if we just volunteered more, if we read the right articles, if we stayed sober longer, if we called our parents more, if we were nicer, if we put on a better show of how good we are.  

When we are subject to the world, the answer to salvation is that we can always be and do more, more, more. We transfer that system onto God and we expect that God must also want bigger and better from us in order for us to belong. The prophet Micah reminds the people what we always seem to forget - that God’s love and will for us is not up in some lofty far off place, but all around us, right in front of us. God’s way is not always grand and dramatic, it is most often simple and steady.  Like last week with Naaman - healing didn't happen with some over the top gesture or fancy quest, but simply to go and wash in the river. Micah tells us that in this same way of being - the child who will be born – the Christ, comes not from the biggest baddest tribe of Israel, but one of the smallest.

With so much happening in the world, ANOTHER mass shooting in Thousand Oaks when we’re still reeling for the one in Pittsburgh, and then whole towns destroyed by fires just up the road from there, remembering our veterans who take great risks in the name of the well being of others, who do not always come back whole, remembering the 89th anniversary of atrocities like Kristallnacht when hateful rhetoric and anti-Jewish legislation bubbled over into mass violence, killing, and destruction of Jewish life,  ...with all this, plus our own messes...

we want God do something, or tell us what to do...anything! And ideally, the magic solution to it all would also somehow also make us the heroes and the saviors of our own souls. What do you want from us God? Shall we solve global warming? cure all diseases? Find the solution to gun violence? Drive out every speck of racism? Fix every broken heart? Snap our fingers and end addiction?

In a world where we’re wrestling with the lines between truth and falsehoods, trying desperately to have a definition of what is good – here we already have an answer:

Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly.

It's not grandiose, but simple.  and yet...not an easy path to follow. Justice is slow work, but the beat is steady over time.  Kindness isn’t dramatic, but is gently softens our own hearts and perhaps those around us. Humility with God doesn't necessarily  change what's around us, but perhaps it changes what's within us.

What is justice anyway? Where have you seen justice rising? What are some examples of kindness in action? Where have you been humbled? Where have you experienced the humility of someone else inspiring you?

The prophet Micah tell us that all this doesn't just happen on its own nor is it anything we do ourselves, but WITH God. I find that when I’m scattered, frustrated, overwhelmed, confused I’m also usually ignoring God. Micah reminds us to make sure that we are still clearing space to see our connection to God – in prayer, in silence, in community, but with intention.  It doesn't necessarily change our feelings, but I think it opens us up to new ones.

Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God isn't really an answer to how we fix everything. That's what the child born in Bethlehem is for. But it does guide us in how to keep going day by day. For those times when it all seems too much and you don't know where to start, it's that playlist gets you putting one foot in front of the other again. It's that steady beat like the voice of Mavis Staples belting out “keep your eyes on the prize, hold on”

Sources of Hebrew wisdom offer it this way, saying:

"Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it."

We won't save the world or ourselves.  We can't. We don't have to. God has already done that for us all. God declares us good from the beginning and shows us what good can do, day by day.  

A Disruptive Borderless God

The Sacred Story comes from 1 Kings 5:1-5; 8:1-13 - a story of King Solomon’s misguided construction of a fabulous temple cage for God. Read the full story here.

We just celebrated my daughter’s 7th birthday yesterday. We…ok, I…envisioned this epic Double Dare theme.  I thought I could keep things simple and unfussy but still special. Preparations definitely started out that way, but then I remembered that given the opportunity I will fuss and fluff as much as there is time. So I scoured pinterest for activities and décor ideas, I ordered safety goggles for every single child to protect them from the buckets of slime I now had recipes for. Somehow our “simple celebration” required my husband and I to stay up late making a giant paper mache nose.  On the big day I got her flowers and filled her bed with balloons, because I do want her to know that this day is special and I want her to feel honored and cherished. And I think she did experience that through all the fanfare and fun. But our love for her is reflected best…not by lavish gifts or on a single special occasion, but in the daily minutia of living in love. She experiences my love even more profoundly when I put down my phone, look her in the eye, and listen to the drama of her day as we build legos together. Our relationship is honored and nourished when she gets to tell me about her friends, the people that she loves, when she gets to show me her discoveries, and we all get to spend quality time together.

King Solomon builds this grand temple which God is indeed worthy of, but misses the mark because he does so at the expense of real people and real relationship. In between these chapters we know the Solomon uses oppressive labor practices that are eerily similar to the Israelites bondage in Egypt.  The stunning temple is built on the backs of the underpaid working poor, and the priests and elders get all the glory in the end. While he makes a big show, Solomon stops really listening to God.


We hear Solomon proclaim, “The Lord has said that he would dwell in thick darkness. 13 I have built you an exalted house, a place for you to dwell in forever.” It’s as if Solomon thinks he has outdone God by finding a way to contain the uncontainable, the silver bullet for the divine, for with Solomon all things are possible. His motives are warped into an aim of making God proud, and he at least subconsciously holds the expectation that building a glorious temple would give him a bit of an edge in the market on God. Still, the Lord’s presence amidst the dark clouds re-asserts divine freedom, especially against the temptation to idolatry, which is another word for the human attempt to limit divine freedom and manage divine access.  God’s glory disrupts all activity in the temple because God cannot be housed by it, cannot truly live in it, nor be contained by it, let alone forever. God extends beyond these walls to inhabit the amorphous and unstructured, uncontainable cloud.”


It’s a lesson that apparently we never quite learn. When the Lord our God gave the Church rest on every side, we set our sights on rebuilding St.Peter’s Basilica in Rome into the stunning structure it is today. I have walked the sacred halls of that place for myself and was indeed more inspired than I ever thought I would be.

But the oppressive cost of grandeur was again born by the most vulnerable. The temple would be financed, at least in part, by the sale of forgiveness which most affected the poor.  Construction began in 1506, and by 1517…tensions bubbled over. 501 years ago Martin Luther took a hammer and nail to the pretty temple doors in Wittenburg and posted his 95 Theses – 95 statements of faith, a list of 95 ways in which the church had deviated from its call to be a carrier of the Gospel and must now return to its true self, to re-focus the church on God.  In these statements, Luther reminds us of the limitations of people and priests to proffer salvation and lifts up the limitless grace of God.

Essentially Luther claims that no one can buy or sell forgiveness, no gold can achieve salvation, no grandeur can fully capture God, no one has a corner on the God market, and thus no human being can be denied direct access to the divine. This is true especially, ESPECIALLY as the means of grace are exploited and abused at the victimization of the most vulnerable, the poor. At its heart, the Reformation speaks against a containable and compartmentalized God and thus a compartmentalized faith.

God is boundless, borderless, and so is our way of being in God.  God’s loves for us extends to our whole selves and so we are wrapped up in a love, a faith that isn’t only on paper, not just in our heads, or only when we step inside a church building…it is how we live and move and have our being.  

How do the people around us know that God loves them? that the church wants to be a part of that love? Perhaps more than great music, big programs, or even dynamic preaching… is the day in and day out relationships.  Perhaps this holy love is best seen and experienced when we are thoughtful about our words and actions - how they might spread violence or support dignity. God’s promise of love for the world is revealed as true when speak up for even those who we disagree with politically. Divine love is known when people stand up for each other across race, and nationality, and religion. Without an awareness of this kind of love were are a clanging symbols, noisy gongs, desperate for the attention of the world and of God, but missing it all around us. If we are silent about this kind of love in the face of hurtful words, even ones we brush off as not a big deal to us, then we become a part of the same temple built on the suffering of the vulnerable.

From the splendor of Solomon in the Old Testament, to the temple veil being torn in two at Jesus’ crucifixion, to the affluence of the European Renaissance, and into our own time… God invites us to imagine that the temple is not the building, but Christ. Place matters, but it is not our center.  God is our center. The kingdom of God is not brick, but embodied. We can be a part of building a house for the lord our God, but it is built not of stone, but of people. God dwells not only among pillars or tablets, but in us and around us. Many church buildings look like fortresses, but the true stronghold resides not within walls, but in God. Our relationship with God in honored and nurtured by grace, not grandeur. God’s love is experienced not just on special occasions but in the day to day realities of life.


The Reformation isn’t only a moment in history, but an ongoing movement that continues to shape us.  We are a resurrection people. Our identity is rooted in allowing the old things to pass away and in being made new every single day. It’s who we are.  It’s how we are. Because of God. Because of Christ. Luther felt compelled to speak up when it seemed as though the people of God placed all their eternal hopes on the Pope and on paper rather than the Gospel. For Luther, the way to re-center the church on Christ was to value scripture over tradition, faith over works, and grace over merit. We still miss the mark.  We forget our true foundation. What do we need to do to re-align ourselves again with Jesus? As individuals and as a church. It won’t ultimately save us, and it won’t give us the corner on the God-market, but perhaps it will reveal the ways in which the limitless love and pervasive presence of God dwells among us.

Queen Bathsheba Too

The Sacred Story comes from 2 Samuel 11:1-5, 26-27; 12:1-9 and Psalm 51:1-9. Clink the links to read the full story - a story of David and Bathsheba, of the abuse of power and God’s ongoing work of transformation.

The bible is not a series of disconnected stories, it is a single narrative that points to one person, to the One who is true and better.   These stories are our stories, as we point to one who is true and better than anything we can comprehend. These stories are about us, because God is about the lives of everyday people, but the true subject of these stories is God.  


God uses all types of people to tell this story – people like David, Uriah, Bathsheba, and Nathan. God is present with David, who was thing gangly underdog of a boy who defeats giants, becomes a national hero and was known as a man after God’s own heart. David who nevertheless has his ego run away with him to the detriment and demise of real live people around him.  David, who objectifies Bathsheba and then tries to cover up his actions by sending her husband, Uriah, to the front lines of a war as a means of murder.

God is present in Uriah - a soldier betrayed by the leader he serves and is treated as disposable.

God is present in Bathsheba – who is at all not a seductress, but someone following the rules of ritual cleansing, someone who follows God’s laws of mourning, and yet still becomes a victim of the powerful.  She is a common woman of Israel, with no particular notoriety, she is a survivor, and a grieving widow. Bathsheba endures erasure as her name begins to disappear from the text after verse 5. So many victims are “disappeared” as their stories go untold and their pain is unrealized or ignored. Bathsheba as a woman in her society, was powerless to call David to account for what he had done to her. Bathsheba continues to be a victim and yet her situation is overlooked. At verse 26, her name is taken away and she is referred to simply as “the wife of Uriah.” But God knows her name and her story. Whether recorded or not, God saw what had been done to Bathsheba. She too was a child of God, with all the rights and privileges of God’s favor. The Story of God includes her story.


God is present in Nathan – someone sent by God with the courage to confront a man he knew was capable of violence and murder.

This is God’s story.  These are God’s people.  This is our story.

What David did to Bathsheba was assault.  As king, someone with authority over Bathsheba and any person in Israel and as the one with power over anyone else in this situation, consent is simply impossible. I just want to be very clear that when we talk about David’s brokenness here, we’re not talking about what Bathsheba looked like or was wearing, we’re not talking about a “mistake,” and we’re not talking about adultery – we’re talking about violence. This isn’t about intimacy, it’s about power.  He abused his position of power. He did not consider the consequences of his actions, or he considered himself excused from those consequences. Even when we look at Nathan’s parable, the issue is that the rich man was not willing to give up his assumed privilege, but abused his authority to take what he thought he was entitled to.


Like David, we find that it is easier to name the brokenness of others rather than our own. We desperately want to believe that this exists apart from us, and apart from our involvement.  It’s something that happens over there, amongst those bad apples.  Tsk tsk, what a shame. It also seems that it is even easier to name the brokenness of others when that “other” is someone we consider to be outside our tribe.  When someone’s abusive behaviors exposed, we get a twisted sense of glee or feel sense of betrayal that is dependent on whether or not they align with our politics, our worldview, or even our church denomination – someone we considered one “us”. Our feelings of how bad the offense is…may seem to shift whether the perpetrator is Bill O’Reilly, or our Olympic gymnastics staff, or clergy, or Matt Lauer, or Roger Ailes, or Kevin Spacey, or Garrison Keilor…

God speaks through Nathan to disrupt this toxic behavior. It’s not that David doesn’t know right from wrong, but he is blind to his part in it.  I’m not even going to address the problematic part of comparing women to livestock, but Nathan does speak God’s redemption to David.


Redemption comes not because what happened wasn’t THAT bad, nor even because David says “I’m sorry.” David is only able to plead forgiveness, because another comes alongside him to help him understand the depth of what he’s done, and helps him recognize his identity as something other than this. In this sacred story and in our world today, I hear the question - how can there be healing and reconciliation after a violation? What does the road back look like for someone who has harmed others?

It turns out that honesty isn’t just a virtue; it is a catalyst for transformation.

What changes David isn’t shame, it’s love. That doesn’t mean he’s exempt from the consequences of his actions, but even guilt and punishment won’t transform him like love does. What changes him is his deep relationship with Nathan, who is able to reflect with him, in profound honesty.  I don’t even think I’d categorize this as tough love, it’s a liberating love, although it can certainly be confrontational and uncomfortable. But when we are deeply loved, we are also deeply known. In the midst of love we can be honest about ourselves and be released from the masks we keep up in order to seem valuable to the world. This is the truth in which God sees us, and even so God still loves us.  This is a divine truth! But more often it comes to us not as a voice from a cloud, but in the embrace of a friend as the house of cards comes tumbling down.

The prophet Nathan is someone that helps David to recognize for himself that his identity doesn’t rest on his power over others.

In the midst of the last several years of headlines, the growth of the “Me Too” movement, and the increasing entrenchment of political tribalism, there is a Word of redemption here for us too. This story highlights how women have been dealing with this for thousands and thousands of years, so it’s understable that patience and second chances are running low.  But what does redemption look like in this era?

Perhaps redemption looks like the courage of modern prophets to speak truth and confront people they are close to, especially men speaking to other men. Redemption calls us to speak up and say, “that joke isn’t funny,” “you keep interrupting her,” or “there’s absolutely no need to comment on what she’s wearing.”

Perhaps redemption is revealed when, in the clear light of day, those who have caused harm can confront their own brokenness, without dodging the consequences, and then begin to join the day in and day out work of proclaiming the dignity of all people.

Perhaps redemption comes as we pray for our leaders – that they may be wise and compassionate, aware of their influence and the vulnerability of others. And that we, the ones they are called to serve, hold them to account on behalf of the vulnerable.

Perhaps redemption looks like unearthing stories of hurt that we thought we had to hide until now. Perhaps it is most powerful in the assurance that our stories are already known and seen by God, whether or not anyone else acknowledges them.

Redemption is surely what God is still doing in these days and throughout time, and has already accomplished.  It is the promise that God, in Jesus, is a true and better David – a king and a leader that does not abuse their power, but lays it down for the sake of the powerless. This is the kind of world-altering redemption that has already changed the game and is yet unfurling still before our eyes. This is a kind of hope that doesn’t hinge on how well we can all get along, but yet invites us to discover a way forward in wholeness. Amen.

Not a Tame God

This week’s sacred story comes from Joshua 24:1-26 where the covenant between God and the people is renewed. Read the full story here. Or watch an 8.5 minute synopsis of the whole book of Joshua here.


A whole generation has passed since God met with Moses on the mountain to give the people the 10 best ways to live. After breaking the covenant, renewing it, and wandering across the spiritual and physical desert for 40 years, Moses and the people who fled Egypt are gone. Joshua carried on. In his leadership and after their committing incredible violence, God brings the people to the land that was promised generations ago.  For this moment, the people don’t have to worry about fighting or how they go on.  In this particular moment they are safe and have all that they need.

It is the turning of the season. In these pivotal moments of our stories, the places where we know things are changing…we have a chance to think about what has been and what could be. On the cusp of transition, in order to step forward, we reflect.  We remember our stories, we remember the people and places who shape us.  Joshua reflects on what God has done.

It has made me stop for a moment, and think about what God has done, where God has been in my own life lately.

After several years of praying and searching, God has provided my husband with meaningful work that utilizes his gifts and fills him with life. Each day, God grants us safety, the health of our family, and food on our table. In these last few weeks which have been emotionally and physically exhausting, God has provided for me much-needed moments of rest, even if it’s just a couple hours in the wilderness that my soul craves for renewal.  God has connected me with a spiritual director who grounds me and yet something about that grounding is also a challenge, an act of resistance.   God has blessed me with a church family that cares enough to let me brag about my brilliant 1st grader and preach the bold Word that God has placed in my heart and on my tongue.

When I think on the story of +KINDRED, I think about how… when we needed our first dinner church meal; folks from Celebration Lutheran in Cypress drove into the heart of the city to take care of that for us. I think about how God through our friends in the community have invited us to join them in advocacy with the LGBTQ community, adding to the voices calling for the dignity of immigrants, and organizing for better justice and resources for the poor.  I think about how God has enabled us through the generosity of many to keep food on these tables. I think about this building we occupy. This past week someone mentioned to me that, “I don’t think anyone realizes how much happens here.”  I give thanks for a place of beauty to gather together – a place to keep us warm or cool, dry and safe – if only for an hour or two at a time. I give thanks for all the conversation that reveal deep relationship where we can let our guards down and be honest with one another about what is really going on in our lives.

I want to invite you to think about what God has done and where God has been for you…even just recently.  God promises to be with all of us, so I know there’s some way in which God is present and active in your life. If you struggle to think of how or where that is, think about - Where have you experienced love? Joy? Generosity? Hope?

Go ahead. If you’re reading this on your screen take a few deep breaths, close your eyes, and take a moment to just be.


In remembrance of God’s work in our lives and in the world, what will we do?  Joshua asks the people, in light of where they have been and where they are now, who will they serve and how they will live. The people are quick to respond with their devotion to God. But Joshua follows up, essentially inviting them to stop and really think about who God is, who it is that they want to serve and follow.  Joshua reminds them that God isn’t a fluffy bunny, but is a God beyond their controlling. This reminds me of one of my favorite moments from C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe with its beautiful allegory of God.  Toward the beginning, as the children are just discovering this incredible world, they ask about who Aslan is:

“Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion." "Ooh" said Susan. "I'd thought he was a man. Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

Toward the end, as they have grown to love this Aslan and wonder what life will be like now, Mr. Beaver tells them:

“He'll be coming and going" he had said. "One day you'll see him and another you won't. He doesn't like being tied down--and of course he has other countries to attend to. It's quite all right. He'll often drop in. Only you mustn't press him. He's wild, you know. Not like a tame lion.”


As the people profess their commitment to God, Joshua essentially asks them, “are you sure?” They respond with an enthusiastic yes, which I believe they whole heartedly believe.  But as for me and my house, I would say….

No, I’m not sure.  I’m not sure I fully understand who God is or what God is up to. There are many days where I’m not sure I want to be a part of it, whatever it is. And yet, I look back at my story, at God’s story, at the ways in which they are intertwined and I can’t shake the sense that I’m tied to the ship anyway.

This covenant with God seems to be something that is about an ongoing renewal. Like with baptism, this isn’t just an event that happens once, but is an ongoing thing – we die and rise anew each day. The covenant is renewed with each communion as we are reminded and reconnected with who God is for us and in us. In Christ, God establishes the covenant again – one which points to the new and greater Joshua, Yeshua, Jesu, Jesus - who wins the day not with violence, but with non-violence, and grants us not just temporary rest but rest eternal in which we are witnesses to the full glory of God. Amen.


A Covenant is Not a Contract

First, we read the sacred story of God giving the Ten Commandments to the newly liberated Israelites. Read the full story of Exodus 19:3-7; 20:1-17 here.

Then, we experience the story told through Godly Play as a story of the Ten Best Ways. Watch the story here.

I think when most of us think of the Ten Commandments, we think of them as rules, which is….only kind of true.  It seems the Commandments are less like the instruction booklet that comes with a board game, and more like the rule of life held by monastic communities.  Every order of monks and nuns has a Rule of Life which is like a handbook on what they value and what rhythms of life will allow them to hold those values…together. God shows them these 10 best ways in order  to guide and guard them as a people, to help them unlearn the habits of empire that were ingrained in them in Egypt. To help them find a new way that serves life and community rather than death and ego.


When Jesus was asked to name the greatest commandment, he summarized them all as an extension of loving God above all else with our whole selves.  He said it is to love God with all your heart, and all you soul, and all you mind.  And what naturally follows is to love your neighbor as yourself. Love God. Love people.  All the other commandments hang on these two. These are the core values for this rule of life. Here God shows Moses and the people what that looks like in practice. We humans are gonna need specifics when it comes to how we practice love in concrete ways. Beyond even then 10 commandments, the people will eventually have as many as 613 commandments in the whole Torah to specify how to live together as God’s people.

But underneath it all, at the foundation, is a promise - a promise of liberation and a promise of relationship; a promise that God will never leave us and that no matter what…God loves us. At the root of it all is God’s big wide covenant, which extends to all of creation through Christ.

A covenant is different than a contract, it's the mutual binding of lives together. Rather than something that protects its own interest from the other, it builds a new thing alongside one another. A contract connects two things with a sense of obligation, a covenant not only connects but integrates them in love, care, and hope.

We can easily harbor bitterness toward God and religion for the feeling that we are being asked to live up to an impossible standard in order to earn God’s approval. Fair enough. This is too often the what we hear either explicitly or implicitly from churches and teachers. But it was never the law that saves, it was always the covenant. It has always been God’s faithfulness to us, even when we mess it up, even to the point of death, so that we would have life and life abundant.

The commandments are given, the covenant is made on stone, not because God looks at the people she freed and says “ok, now you owe me,” but as a gift that will allow them to experience freedom that isn’t just in name only, but in practice. These “best ways of living” are the scaffolding which supports and facilitates the promised freedom. It is the organizational foundation that allows for even greater creativity and more profound love. It brings our hope out of theory and into practice.


If you were to receive the commandments for a community of faith, what would they be?

What are the things that you think would help a community live into God’s hope for us?  What really practical pieces are needed to support this life together? What do needs to be established as important for loving God? And for loving neighbor?

The Chaotic Roundabout Road to Liberation

This week’s sacred story comes from Exodus 14:5-7, 10-14, 21-29 - Read the full story here. The people of God have been “freed” from slavery in Egypt, but are then pursued with violence and find themselves trapped at the Red Sea.

Last week we left this story with Joseph stuck in prison.  As the story unfolds, God gives him visions and dreams that bring him out of this imprisonment, to become the right hand of Pharaoh and the one who would save the nation and its people, even the ones who betrayed him -  from famine, starvation, and death. But now, inevitably, time has passed and Joseph has been forgotten in the halls of power. The people of God are reduced to slaves – not of the most High, but of the Empire of Egypt.  This life wasn’t just hard, it was cruel.  It meant that Hebrew babies were taken from their mothers, their families, their communities. It meant that they were no longer considered people, but machines whose only value was to make bricks, to produce. The was no time for rest, no “off” button, no escape from the constant compulsion to do more and more and more and more and more.  Perhaps the people began to believe or just resign themselves to the lies that this was all they were good for, that it was ridiculous to even imagine things being different, this was simply the way the world was now. And yet a distant hope still flickered in their hearts. They cried out to God.  They gave voice to their pain and their heartbreak. And God heard them. God had not forgotten them.  God would not abandon them. God had made a promise, a covenant to their ancestors, a promise to always be with them and to lead them, throughout the generations to a place where life and love can grow.

From among them, God lifts up Moses – a stuttering, unsure, and unprepared murderer, to lead the people into liberation, true freedom – not just in body but in soul.  Moses goes to the most powerful person in the land, Pharaoh, with whom he was raised like a brother. From Pharaoh’s perspective, I’m sure this stings of betrayal. How could this person who was his playmate in childhood, who had enjoyed the benefits of power and wealth with him, now see him as the bad guy, as an enemy? The voice of God through Moses says, “enough.” Enough.  It seems a powerful word for both Pharaoh and the Israelites to hear. Enough.

It’s a jarring change. No one is quite sure what’s going on in the unfolding of this new reality. The rules of the game seem to change with each passing moment.  Everything is happening so quickly now. As it turns out, the road to liberation isn’t a smooth or straightforward one.  The people of God are taken the long way round.  Chapter 13, verses 17-18 tell us, “When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was nearer; for God thought, ‘If the people face war, they may change their minds and return to Egypt.’ So God led the people by the roundabout way of the wilderness towards the Red Sea. The Israelites went up out of the land of Egypt prepared for battle.” The most direct path to the promised land isn’t where God leads them, but it is where they are promised to arrive.

First, God is leading them, going ahead of them and lighting the way in a pillar of fire and cloud.  Now, it has moved behind them.  First, they were walking toward life, now it seems they are running into death.  First, Moses tells them to keep still and watch.  Now, God is saying, “get moving and see.” It’s a mess. It’s chaos. It’s unnerving. The people of God are back to feeling trapped.  They have hit a wall….of water.


When we come to a place of confusion and disappointment or fear, we question. In this moment, the flicker of hope seems to be drowned out.  We had hoped that this would be the one to save us.

Maybe we harbored a secret hope that this time things could or would be different.  But maybe we didn’t really allow ourselves to believe it would really happen. People who have been oppressed, abused, let down, and heartbroken (whether by political powers, by family, friends, by institutions, or by the church) often find it hard to believe that hope is really possible or that God actually cares. When we hit the wall, we remember all the times we’ve seen it go wrong. It hurts so bad and yet, there’s a strange sense of comfort or safety in the predictability of it. Even if we know in our brains that the ways of the  past are deadly, it seems better than where we’re at - stuck, trapped between the hurt of our past behind us and the wall of water in front of us. Because of the ways we’ve been hurt, we are often more willing to trust the lies about ourselves and/or our stories than trust the promises of truth about how much we are really loved and cared for.  We get used to and even somehow can appreciate systems that aren’t good for us, even when we know they’re not good for us or for the world. One commentator names it well, noting that: “it is difficult to sustain a revolution, because one loses all the benefits and safety of the old system well before there are any tangible benefits from what is promised.”

This middle space, isn’t just hard…it’s excruciating and confusing. It makes us want to turn back. And yet, God doesn’t abandon them and they don’t cease to be God’s beloved people when they express doubt. The covenant doesn’t dissolve when they lament and cry out. There’s chaos in the change as God seems to keep moving around. God moves from front to back, but in doing so always stands between us and that which would mean death for us.

 God creates a way out of no way.  God separates the waters from the waters and creates dry land. God is still doing the Genesis work of creation. Through the water, God creates more than a new world, God creates  a new people. The images from the beginning, reappear. I love it when the bible does that.  It shows us that this sacred text is not a series of disconnected stories, but a single narrative that points to the One.


God has always created new life from the chaos of the cosmos.  This points us to a God, the Creator, who is still creating.  It points us to a new and greater Moses who liberates us not only from oppression, from a system of consumption, from a lesser identity, but from all things, from death itself. This liberation is not only for the Israelites, but intended for the nation of Egypt as well – scripture says “the Egyptians shall know that I am LORD, when I have gained glory for myself over Pharaoh, his chariots, and his chariot drivers.” (14:18)

Many things about this journey, this way of life are hard, and scary, confusing, chaotic, and frustrating, exhausting. Next week we will hear about how God helps the people navigate those challenges and find a new rhythm with rest. But for now, we can look at our similar experiences and moments and know that we are in good company. That the people of God have wrestled with this for generations. And that God leads them through these moments to create something new and greater.

As we look at this community. As we look around us at these, our Kindred, with all our differences, sometimes I wonder – can the hope and the promised of the wide tent of God really be true?  Can it really work? Like the Israelites, I’m haunted by all the broken promises of before – experiencing churches only want me if I behave the right way, go to the right meetings, they don’t actually care about me. I’ve seen people and communities try to be kind before but it never works out.

People who didn’t grow up in church, people who still aren’t sure about this God-thing, people who know the songs by heart, people who experience God in the quiet, people who know God best in movement, people who struggle to get by, people who struggle with how to be faithful with all they have - how can we be one people? Can this be a place, a people where welcome truly means welcome and we can come as we are, all of us?  …

It seems a pipe dream, and it kinda is but that’s the promised land, the beloved community. It’s a new kind of kingdom, a new creation, a revolution. Life together is messy and chaotic and hard and The Israelites will still need to figure out how they’re going to do it, how they’re going to live together. Next week we’ll hear more about how that plays out.

The road from slavery to liberation is wrought with challenges – and not just in a trite “power of positive thinking” kind of way. The transformation of a people from a diminished existence to life-giving beloved community is honestly, still ongoing. You can take the people out of Egypt, but it’s a lot harder to take the Egypt out of the people. It’s hard to shift away from a society, from our habits and even our own sense of self, in which people were seen as objects and commodities in a culture of consumption, valued only for what they produce. We can look around and know that we want something to be different.  And now that we have the promise of hope, as tempting as it may seem…we know in our heads that we can never go back and live as if we had not hoped, as if we haven’t envisioned new possibilities.

God was with Joseph.  God was with there in Egypt. God is active in the story, protecting, guiding, and making a way out of no way. God leads, God defends, God liberates, God creates, God gives tired feet the spirit to dance. The ancient story is our story. The eternal hope is our hope. Amen.

Sexual Abuse, Power, and the Gospel

The sacred story comes from Genesis 39:1-23. Read the full story here.


How did we get here? What on earth is going on? As Joseph sits in a desperate jail cell, I can only imagine the questions racing through his mind. How did we get here? Just a couple generations ago, Abraham and Sarah were declared the parents of the great family, rooted in a covenant with God. They had to leave their home, struggled to conceive but then used their slave’s sexuality for their needs. Their grandsons, Jacob and Esau, fought each other from the beginning, conspired and betrayed their own family. And now, Jacob’s children have conspired together to kill Joseph, but settled on selling him into human trafficking, only for him to end up the victim of sexual assault and thrown in a foreign jail cell. We don’t do ourselves or the gospel any favors by ignoring these issues, or quickly brushing past them to get to more comfortable things. If we can’t be honest about it as church, where can we be?

I thought being people of the covenant would look different. Promised lands, “being blessed to be a blessing”, God’s chosen and beloved people and all that – I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be easy or perfect, but I thought it would be a little rosier than…THIS. How did we get here? These are questions we may be asking ourselves about our own families, our communities, our own culture.

Joseph was once his father’s favorite, his beloved, with whom Jacob was well pleased. But he was betrayed by those closest to him, and was delivered unto death.  Even when Joseph rises within the house of Potiphar, he is betrayed by the powerful and condemned. It’s a pattern that defines us as CHRISTIANS, isn’t it? And yet, in the midst of the trauma, we still wonder…Where is God in all of it? What does God want from us?

What defines the WORLD is power. Power shapes society into what it is, for better or worse.  And unfortunately we know plenty of stories in which power is abused and misused.  Here, the household of the captain of the guard in the powerful nation of Egypt, uses their power to pressure Joseph, to use him as an object that serves their own desire and power, and then ultimately shame and condemn him, knowing they will never have to suffer the consequences. 

In this dynamic, Joseph is powerless. He is an Ethnic minority (which we hear clearly when he is referred to as…THIS Hebrew).  He is socially at the bottom of the heap as a slave. He becomes the victim as power is exerted for exploitation, and a position of authority is abused for sexual gain.

It can be tempting to view “power” as something distant from ourselves – as belonging to others, or to distance ourselves by saying that sort of power is so much more or different than what we have.  But power isn’t only held in titles and wealth, badges and bureaucrats. Power is also…knowing that your perspective will be believed and valued by others with power. It’s in knowing how the system works or having the resources either mentally, relationally, or financially to navigate that system with safety and benefit. And that kind of power is abused not only when it is intentionally exerted over and against someone else, but also when it’s neglected, when we fail to acknowledge it at all.

That’s hard to wrap our minds around. Maybe we expected power to look different.  Maybe we expected it to look like a shiny car, fancy suit, or a big house. Maybe we thought power came in the form of a bunch of followers on social media, when all it really means is access and influence.

Maybe this gets us to thinking power = evil, but power isn’t inherently bad.  God is powerful.  Jesus wields incredible power, power over the grave itself. Earthly power functions for the sake of itself. God shows us what power does for the sake of the Gospel, in the creation of a new kind of kingdom. 

Where is God, the almighty, in Joseph’s story? God, in power, goes and sits with the powerless, aligns itself with the vulnerable. What’s happening to Joseph is unfair. This isn’t right.  He is suffering. And yet, the bible tells us over and over - the LORD was with him, the LORD was with Joseph.  The scriptures highlight that God is particularly present and active alongside the victimized, the incarcerated, the vulnerable, the ethnic minority, the foreigner.

The question of “if the lord was with him, how could God let this happen?” is never answered. But what God does in the midst of all this is shown as the story continues.  Through all of it Gods finds a way to keep promises. Right now, we’re in the middle of the story. As it continues to unfold,  Joseph’s life is revealed to have deep meaning and he lives on to help save the people, both the nation that and its powerful that betray him here, and his family that betrayed him before. This  does not excuse abuses and harm, but it offers us a different kind of question, a shift in the way we look at these things.  When our world is in chaos, where can God take us from here?

Someone is betrayed to the point of death. And yet in that death and betrayal, God doesn’t give up on us. God gets to work to redeem even the betrayer. This is the shape of the cross, right here in Genesis - that when suffering happens, we can expect God to show up. This gospel is tough to hear when we are the one betrayed and hurt.  We want justice and we have ideas about what that justice should look like. God’s justice is to disrupt the things that led others to harm another in the first place and to make everyone involved whole in ways that ripple justice into the future.

So if God and the Gospel, the new world order, is mostly clearly present among the powerless, the victims…where are we in all this? As we’ve seen, it’s not that the powerful are over here without God and the powerless are over there.  God is power and in this Gospel truth, hope comes to bloom where the powerful and the powerless meet and are joined together, aligned with one another. So if we are those who have been exploited and hurt, how are we holding the powerful accountable? How are we pointing to God’s persistent presence and promise even in our struggle, offering hope when it seems unlikely?  And if we are those with access and influence, how is God inviting us to make use of these things in service to the vulnerable so that we all might experience God more fully? So that we all live into our already- accomplished redemption here and now? Thinking of our power in this way takes hard work.  I invite you to pray and reflect on this. What do you have access to that you maybe haven’t considered before? This building? Because space is valuable. Schools and knowing how to succeed in them? Because education deserves equity. Civic associations? Because local decisions still impact those who don’t have an advocate. Do you have experience and knowledge in how to start a business, finance a dream? Consider even the power of your voice – speaking up in solidarity with – knowing that your voice will be trusted and believed where others are not.

God is here.  God is with you. The Lord is with you, with all God’s power and promises from generation to generation. God has never left you and never will. Nor does God in the cross, leave us where we are, unchanged, but is continually bringing life out of death…for all of us…together. Amen.

PRACTICES: Discernment

The sacred story today comes from Luke 24:13-35. Read the full story here.

A sermon from Shannon Schaefer


"Were not our hearts burning within us?" I wonder if you have ever asked a question like that?

I have to confess, when Pastor Ashley asked me to consider preaching on the spiritual practice of discernment a few months back, I thought, "Are you kidding?! Surely you must be!"

My life is a little crazy, you see. I rarely feel as if I have a solid sense of direction and every other week find myself in the midst of some minor existential crisis over any variety of things, ranging from life in community to living in Houston, to questions of jobs and vocation and calling, to parenting, and the list goes on.

So to talk about discernment - about decision making and hearing God, well, I imagine you should be hearing about all this from someone who's living their best life now, you know? And not the hot mess I am in daily life.

But once I settled down a little, I realized I do have something to say about discernment.

After all, my life this moment looks very different than it did a decade ago, and that kind of drastic change doesn't happen by accident.

And beyond questions of my own life, it's also true that I am someone others have often turned to for presence and for processing as they have made decisions and listened for God.

Some of those decisions have been the big ones - like which grad school to go to, or whether to leave ministry, whether to stay in Houston after Mission Year, whether to get married, or what to think about bodies.

Some of those decisions have been more daily - questions of how to eat, how to pray, where to spend time, how to navigate conflict, how to grow as a person.

I do know something about discernment and the practice of it. And as a practice, I think it's critical to the Christian life.

Discernment, if I were to define it, is simply an openness to the Spirit of God, a listening for the voice of God, and the willingness to be lead and act on God's leading.

Openness, listening, and willingness.

And while we can try these on our own, what I want to suggest tonight is that ultimately our practices of discernment are really bound up in practices of friendship and community - that we must submit our lives to others who see us, know us, and will discern with us.

The stories of Jesus's appearances after the resurrection are some of those most dear to me in scripture.

And this particular story, of the walk to Emmaus, highlights the role of community and friendship in discerning the presence of Jesus.

As these friends walk along the road, someone joins them. And he seems at first to not know about Jesus, about the crucifixion and events in Jerusalem.

They tell him about their community - the women who found the empty tomb, and other friends who went to check it out. They had hoped Jesus was the Messiah, but it seems like their hopes were dashed.

And then this stranger, who has listened, begins to explain how Jesus was the Messiah. He goes back to Moses and the prophets.

They end up inviting the stranger back to their place for dinner. And when he breaks bread, it dawns on them that the stranger is Jesus himself!

Together in wonder, they say, "Were not our hearts burning within us?"

"Our hearts," they say. They are together in discerning that this stranger is Jesus. With a solidarity of experience, they witness in one another's lives the miracle they have just experienced.

For tonight, there are three things I want to highlight in this story - three things that strike me as important for the practice of discernment. Here they are:

1. These two friends have paid attention to their hopes and desires.

2. They engage together the story of faith and remember together what they know.

3. They are part of a much larger web of friendships with those whose lives are aimed at ultimate questions and ways of being in the world.

Back to the first: They have paid attention to their hopes and desires.

As they lay out the recent events in Jerusalem, telling the stranger all that has happened, they say, "we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel."

They had hoped. They had desires about this particular man, Jesus, but also desires about how he had envisioned the world. In other words, they had bought into Jesus's imagination for reality.

They had glimpsed a new kingdom breaking in and they wanted to live within it.

So often, I have tended to think that if I want something, it must not be what God wants.
Have you ever felt that way?

Behind it is what I think is a faulty assumption first about God's heart for us, as if God of course opposes everything we want, and secondly about our own innate sinfulness or a propensity to want the wrong things.

But the truth is that often God uses our desires, our capacity to hope and long, in order to move us toward God and toward lives of faithfulness.

I once heard an old-timey preacher say that "when you want what God wants, you will want what God wants." In other words, to pray God's will be done means that in time, our desires begin to align with that will.

Or, there's a beautiful prayer by Thomas Merton which includes this line: "I believe that the desire to please you, O God, does in fact please you and I hope I have that desire in all I am doing."

These two traveling friends had a desire to see the kingdom of God as Jesus had envisioned it break in to reality, and had desires that their lives be shaped by his imagination.

These hopes, these desires, were good and Godly, and right.

Second, they engage together their shared story of faith, and remember what they know.

One the road, the stranger opens to them the scriptures, rehearsing what Moses and the prophets have said.

This is critical in our practices of discernment. So often the questions we have are about what comes next in the story for us.

Who will we become? What should we do or where should we go, and how will our character deepen and develop? And ultimately, where is God in any or all of this?

To know what comes next, we have to know where we are, remember the plot, locate ourselves and this moment in the story God is telling. We remember through reading scripture, and engaging the story in practices like communion. We can't do this alone.

Which leads me to the third aspect of our sacred story tonight, namely the importance of friendship and community. The traveling friends in our story are part of a much larger web of community with others whose lives are aimed at ultimate questions and ways of being in the world.

In telling the stranger what has happened, they refer to the women who discover the empty tomb and others who saw it. And after their eyes are opened, they process this experience together, of having discovered the stranger to be Jesus. And after this, they return to the rest of the disciples to relate what they have seen.

I would argue that without friendship and community, we cannot actually practice discernment.

Here I don't mean the Facebook friend kind of friendship.
I mean the kind of friendship where two people are running neck and neck hard toward the things of God.

These are people your life is wide open to, who you have given permission to know you deeply and even say hard things to you, who will hold you in the integrity of who you are, and call you up to belovedness.

They know who you are, the know who God is and what story we're in, and they're on the road with you, journeying in the same general direction. They hope with you, listen for God with you, interpret the story with you.

In my life, I have a group of very dear friends who have traveled with me these past years. Who are your traveling partners in your life?

If you aren't certain, then look around the table. At Kindred, we are hoping to be the kind of place where we journey together and name the presence of the risen Jesus in our midst. 

We hope to say together, "Were not our hearts burning within us?" and name that God was with us all along, is now, and ever will be. Amen.


This week's Sacred Story comes from Psalm 141:1-2, Romans 8:22-27, and Matthew 6:5-15

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." - Romans 8:26-27

I wonder…What has your experience of prayer been? How has it been a part of
your life? How have you seen it as a part of other’s lives? What have you been
taught about prayer? What do you think about prayer? How do you feel about
prayer? What do you wish prayer could be for you?


Has it been, for you, something that restores your soul? a source of comfort
when you didn’t know what else to do? Has it been a frustratingly silent and
feelingless practice? Is it something you had to memorize growing up, something
that was done before dinner at grandma’s house? Maybe it’s something you do
“just in case” there really is a God out there. Maybe there is a particular prayer
that functions more as a secret access code that once prayed gets you “in”?

We all come to the practice of prayer with our own baggage, both positive and
negative. Even if it seems as though it has never been a real part of our lives, we
get at least a taste of it second hand whether it’s the debate over the practice is
or isn’t a part of public schools or how it’s featured in films, praying to dear tiny
infant Jesus. We each have varying understanding, expectations, and practices
of prayer. And it appears that throughout the bible, there is room for a varied
expression of this holy practice.

It’s one of those things we can probably never fully understand. Some say prayer
is….relationship, conversation, or simply awareness – being attentive, being
open and attuned to God’s presence, voice, and movement. Mother Theresa was
once asked about her prayer life. The interviewer asked, “When you pray, what
do you say to God?” Mother Teresa replied, “I don’t talk, I simply listen.” Then the
interviewer asked, “Ah, then what is it that God says to you when you pray?”
Mother Teresa replied, “He also doesn’t talk. He also simply listens.”

Sometimes, we have particular things on our mind and in our hearts that we need
to say, questions we have to ask. Sometimes prayer feels like it exists during a
set time, other times it seems to go on and on without ceasing, taking place with
our every breath in, and every breath out. Sometimes, we lean on the expression
of others across time. There is prayer that comes with particular words, handed
down to us through tradition, including these teachings from Christ. Even those
who have been following him for a while now have to ask, want to know more
about the ways of prayer. Jesus teaches us to pray boldly – praising God for
their glory and not hesitating to ask for what is essential to body and soul. Jesus
also teaches us to pray humbly, simply. God shows us that prayer doesn’t have
to be fancy, it’s not a performance. The bold and simple words of what we now
call “The Lord’s Prayer” are often learned by heart, repeated over and over
throughout our lifetimes so much so that it is remembered not only by our minds
but in our very bodies. It becomes muscle memory in such a profound way that
even those who have lost the ability to remember much else, can still recall and
invoke this sacred prayer. Even as this particular form of prayer holds a special
place for us, it is not the only way.

I am reminded of Mary Oliver’s beautiful poem, “Thirst”:

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.”

Jesus would go on to pray in other ways throughout his life, praying in the
solitude of gardens and mountainsides, even praying in the midst of death on the
cross – “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.” The only thing Jesus
has to say about there being a right way or a wrong way to prayer is in our
intentions. Are we looking to God? Or looking for attention, trying to perform? Is
our true desire to seek our own glory? Or that all might know the fullness of
God’s love? Do we expect to remain passive in prayer, or does it open us up to
God’s will, open us to being shaped into an active participant in God’s kingdom

Mother Theresa reflected on how her practice of prayer had changed over time.
She said, “I used to pray that God would feed the hungry, or do this or that, but
now I pray that he will guide me to do whatever I'm supposed to do, what I can
do. I used to pray for answers, but now I'm praying for strength. I used to believe
that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we
change things.”

Sometimes words are a helpful tool to enter into prayer, into this relationship-
building conversation. Sometimes, words fall short or escape us. Sometimes we
find ourselves simply be-ing - hoping, waiting, crying, smiling. As Paul writes to
the Romans, this too is holy. These are the moments when we rely on the
promise that the Spirit of God is always beside us and within us. She joins us in
our wordless utterance. And as a pair of friend who have known each other their

whole lives, we can simply sit at the side of God, God sitting close to us, and just
be together even in silence.

While the bible shows us practices of prayer that boldly ask for our needs and the
needs of the world, these stories seem to point to an understanding of prayer that
is more than a divine suggestion box. Perhaps prayer isn’t about changing God,
or getting god to act a certain way or do what we want. Perhaps, rather, prayer
changes us - our hearts. It reminds us that we are not alone in our joys or our
cares. Prayer is not magic. God is not a genie. And yet there is something
mystical, something unexplainable about it. Studies in hospitals show that
patients heal faster when they know they’re being prayed for, and yet there are
also times when that healing doesn’t mean a cure, but perhaps peace.

So if prayer is about relationship and it isn’t a performance, it can reflect our
honest selves – it can be joyful, but it can also be sorrowful. You are absolutely
allowed to be angry with God, frustrated with the world, even yell and scream at
God in prayer. I promise it’s a lot better than bottling it up or blowing up and
taking it out on the people around you. God can handle it. When we are joined by
others, when we ask people how we can be praying with them….I have found
that prayer is also a practice in which we are most honest with each other, about
what’s really going on in our lives, what really matters to us.
Prayer is something you can practice at meal time, bedtime, sitting in traffic,
waiting in line at the store – basically all the times we are likely to turn to our
phones and start scrolling. Prayer can simply look like sitting on a park bench
watching the sun go down and somehow being drawn into something bigger,
something holy. Prayer is a practice as accessible as our very breath. Yet, it still
takes intention; we still have to make a point to make it a part of our lives of faith.
But God still loves us and welcomes us the same no matter how often or how
infrequently we come to this awareness.

Prayer holds a promise that is much greater than helping our team win or finding
a great parking spot. These sacred stories point to a bigger promise through
prayer. Prayer is about being heard, being known and advocated for, being
humble, being bold, BE-ing. It is a practice that proclaims the assurance that God
hears us, knows us in the depths of our being. That God cares. As in the
incarnation, Jesus, God becoming human, God joins in the midst of our world
and shares our being, our joys and our struggles. Prayer helps to proclaim this
promise to us even we’re not sure that anyone’s listening or that anyone is there.
The practice of being open and attentive to God, even when we don’t expect
anything to come of it, has a way of settling hope into our souls. In prayer, we
draw near to God and perhaps are surprised to find that God has always been
near to us. Amen.

As you explore this practice, here are a few tools you may find helpful:

“The Jesus Prayer” - Lord Jesus Christ, son of God. Have mercy on me, a sinner.
You can repeat these phrases over and over like a meditation.  Try saying the first sentence with your breathe in, and the second sentence as you breathe out.

A Pattern for Prayer - ACTS – Adoration/Praise, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication/Ask. Begin your prayer with a word of praise for who God is, then a confession of they ways in which you and the world have fallen short, followed by thanking God for your blessings, and then finally asking God for the needs of yourself and others.

Common Prayer App or Website - Pray the “office of hours” with specific patterns of prayer for morning, midday, evening, and night. or search “Book of Common Prayer” in iTunes or Google Play

Common Table Prayer - Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest. Let this food to us be blest.  A prayer to use before meal time.

Body Prayer - Practice Yoga with mindfulness, practice prayerful doodling or art, go for a Walking Prayer, or sit silently in meditational prayer for 10-15 minutes.

PRACTICES: Reading the Bible

This week's sacred story comes from Deut 11:13-21 and

John 20:30-31
30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. 31But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name. 

Christians are sometimes referred to as people of the book, but perhaps it is more accurate to say that we are people of story.  This summer we’ve been reflecting on the ways these divine stories shape us. First, that they are experienced – that we remember the oral origination of the scriptures and that before they were written down, they were lived and told in ways that more closely resemble telling family stories around the campfire (see what biblical storytelling can look like here). These stories are then sent, shared, they take on a second life in writers like Paul who build on  and connect them to new eras, new people and places. Now, we explore how they are practiced, how they come to life in us, how they are embodied in our ways of being. As it is important to discover and reflect on our family stories for what they have to reveal about where we come from and thus who we are, so it is essential that we engage scripture to…as the gospel of John puts it…shape what it is that we believe and explore how it is that we have life.


So today I want us to think about the practice of reading the bible – how we might do this and why we would do this.  But first, we need to talk about what it is – what it is, what it isn’t, and what it’s about. Where does the bible come from and what is its purpose? This compilation of pages, these blots of ink – how did they come to be?  At some point the stories being told aloud and learned by heart became stories written down. The Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John circulated within their general regions, but it wasn’t until Centuries after Jesus lived, that these Gospels, and the Hebrew Torah, and other holy writings were then vetted and voted on by a room full of (pretty much white and cis-male) church leaders to decide what would be included in the Holy Bible and what would not.

So what you end up with is it a book that isn’t really a book, it’s a library. There are different genres like history and poetry and fable, and you don’t ready history books the same as you read poetry. You expect different things from them and their intention is different. It is a collection of stories, stories that are partly the story of God, but honestly more the story of people’s interaction and understanding and misunderstanding of god throughout time. Because the Bible is pieced together, there are parts of the Bible that contradict other parts, and we have to be honest about that and wrestle with that. So the bible is not an encyclopedia or an owner’s manual, it is an anthology of literature assembled across generations.

Now, if you’ve ever played a game of telephone, you know that it is virtually impossible for anything to go through that many human hands and processes to come out on the other end completely unchanged.  As Lutherans, we embrace the raw imperfection that is humanity. And thus, we also acknowledge that while we believe the bible is indeed the Word of God, it isn’t the straight dictation of God. As if God dropped a chunk of papyrus from the sky or possessed the minds and hands ancient scribes and controlled their every movement.

This is not to say that we don’t take God or God’s word seriously. It is about trying to direct our hearts to their proper point of worship.  We respect, but don’t worship Moses. We respect the Mother Mary, but do not worship her. We respect the bible, but we do not worship it as an idol of perfection in the same way that God the creator is perfect. The bible is a gift, but it’s still not God.


The bible is the Word of God and it points to a kind of living word – the word made flesh, a word that comes alive and moves and speaks. It is a word not entirely contained by letters and sentences. It is a word that has a life of its own, a word that creates life - That speaks into being – that says “let there be light” and there was light. So the bible is the Word of God, but it is not the only thing that God ever said and it does not mean that God is done talking or creating.

One final word on what the bible is not.  If the bible is a gift, the bible is not a weapon. These words are written so that we may come to know God better, so that we may believe God’s promises as they are kept across time and place.  They were not written so that they could become the possession of a few in order to shame and hurt the rest. Any time we interpret these texts to think less of rather than love another, that is more about us than it is about the Word of God.

Ok, so what are we to do with this sacred library then? How are we called to engage these words?  The texts we’ve highlighted today show God imploring us to keep them close, to make them a regular part of our rhythm of life, to study them together, and to teach them to the next generation.  These are our stories, the story of our people, we should make every effort to know them. The more of it we know, the more connections we can make across its pages, the richer the stories become, the promises of God are even more pronounced. It is only within the past 500 years that we are lucky enough have these stories available to us in languages we can understand. We are lucky to live in a time and place, when the cost and availability of bibles make these words relatively easy to obtain.  Even a generation or two ago, it would be rare to have more than a single bible to share as a household.

All this is to say that if we are to be followers of Christ, we should be reading the sacred texts that point us toward God. Reading the bible regularly, whether daily or some other rotation, grounds us in this story that is so much bigger than us.  It creates for us a foundation a faith as it helps to reveal our true foundation in God. As we’re reading and as we seek to understand what we are reading, we have to keep a few things in mind. Every one of the books in this library has a context – it comes from a particular place and time and its author has a particular message they hope to communicate.  Imagine you’re watching a sitcom from 30 years ago. it will probably reference news headlines from that era, but looking back on it now you’d have to work to research the details of that news story to really “get it” and even then it’s never quite the same as having lived in the time of that story or watching the scene when it first aired. And as you watch it, you know that its intention is to present you with a mixture of truth and absurdity that make you laugh. But all that also depends on your own sense of humor and your own perspective. Likewise, we can not help but have some of our own biases in the mix when we read the Bible, even with our best efforts to remain impartial and informed. But we come back to the texts, again and again, to discover more and more

We grow in Christian maturity when we read these words often, but also when we read them with others.  Reading the bible in community helps us to see things we might otherwise have missed. Even when we think we fully understand a piece of scripture, we always have more to learn through what God is saying to us in the wisdom and perspective of others. When we read the bible on our own throughout the week, we have thoughts and questions we can reflect on when we come together in weekly worship.


As we read the holy scriptures in this way, we practice a spirit of openness to how God is speaking the word still. We read with expectation, keeping a look out for what God is speaking into being now.  This is what the Word does. It creates, it becomes embodied, it activates us, it stirs us up. God, through the Word, does not leave us the same as before. When we read the bible we can ask ourselves, what is God saying to me here?  These stories aren't just folklore to be passed down they actively affect us. They shape us and our world. They give us and all of creation a holy hope in what was, what is, and what will be.

This is all well and good to talk about but when beginning a new practice, I need real tools to support me.  So I want to share with you a few things that you might find helpful to really make this a part of your rhythm of life.  How about this, make it a commint for at least week, and then you can extend your goals from there. Start with something achievable.

So here are some tools.  First, there's lots of digital tools to guide a regular reading of the bible.  There's an app called "Our Bible" which offers an LGBTQ affirming bible and progressive devotionals, you can sign up for email meditations from Father Richard Rohr on the website for the Center for Action and Contemplation. For analog tools you can hold and touch, you can print out and use this "read the bible in a year" plan if you want to really expand what your read as there are so parts of the Bible that don't normally get included in devotionals.

My invitation and challenge to you this week is to pick one of these to engage, commit to it for at least this week, and see what God does with that. As it is written in Colossians, let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the father through him.  Amen.

Tear Down That Wall

Our sacred story this week comes from Paul's letter to the Ephesians, speaking of God's promise to make a divided world into one people.  Read the full story here.

Do you remember your first day at a new school? You’re given a slip of paper with a room number to report to, but you have no idea where that is or how to get there, you’re not even sure who to ask for help without embarrassing yourself. You arrive at your desk and everyone starts pulling their supplies out of their backpacks, but you don’t have the same standardized name brand, wide ruled, 56 page composition book that everyone else seems to have.

Do you remember your first day at a new job? Your new boss guides you through the hallway giving you so many instructions you know you’ll forget, introducing you to people you’ve already forgotten the name of, putting you in charge of tasks that you kind of understand. At the same time, you want to do everything well and make a good impression, but maybe not too well or too good, so that you have room to improve instead of dissapoint. You head to the break room for lunch and you’ve packed your own because you weren’t sure what would be available, but everyone here apparently goes out for lunch and left before you had a chance to be invited.

Do you remember your first day in a new city? The streets all had names but they didn’t mean anything to you. As you rode through town, taking the place in through your window, everything was just a blur of stores and trees, and houses that looked a little different from where you came from.



Over time, the sights and sounds didn’t seem so strange. You came to know your neighbors, you made friends. People helped you find your way. You got the hang of things and you didn’t have to work so hard to just exist. You grew more and more comfortable and eventually you wonder how anyone could see this world as strange or scary.

I wonder, when did the newness of these people, places, and experiences wear off?  When did they begin to feel familiar? When did we start to glance over parts of them because we assumed we’d already seen that part before? When did we start to forget that all of it was once new? That we were once the awkward newbie trying to figure it all out while still looking cool as a cucumber? When did we start to forget that at one time the things we take for granted now were once terrifying? Exciting? Foreign?

We can get caught up in the alleluias and the joy of God, that we forget they once seemed impossible to us. Perhaps they feel impossible to you still. We get so wrapped up in it that we forget the joy and love of God is not ours alone, but shared - that we came to this place alongside others.

The early church, the first followers of Christ, had to wrestle with how they were a part of the good news they were hearing and how others were a part of it with them.  They had to think about what that meant when people understood and experienced the promises of God differently than they did. How could they be one body when they didn’t even truly understand how the these other people lived?  How could they even talk together, let alone be joined together as one new people? They had to confront how that good news could still be true for them, when it was also true for people that weren’t just strangers to them but people they looked down on and disliked, people they saw as barbaric. Not only that, but this good news of God’s love was true even for those who looked down on them and hurt them.  

When we are subject to the sin of forgetfulness, when we forget our deep sacred connection to others, the gap we have created between ourselves turns to hostility, resentment, judgement.  When we forget our connection, we are pushed away from each other, we are far away, and it becomes all too easy to fill in the space between us with assumptions. When you look at something from a distance it’s not quite clear and you take a guess at what it might be.  When we look at people from a distance, we start guessing that someone on the streets is probably an addict, that someone with a nice car only ever thinks of themselves, that someone with dark skin is dangerous, that someone with a handicap isn’t worth the trouble, that people who don’t share our political and ideological beliefs are dumb or downright . Ultimately the distance between us comes down to fear, fear of the unknown, fear that they could hurt us, or tarnish us, or slow us down . But we are not given a spirit of fear, but of power and love.


Laying down our indifference about one another and our vitriol toward another is hard.  We like the feeling of superiority, we like the sense of protection and power it gives us even if it’s a ruse. We wear it like armor and we fear that what is left, if it were to be taken away, would be disastrous.  But what this text tell us is, that is not so. What is given in place of our vitriol and division is far better; it is peace, unity, harmony. It’s not the difference between us, but the distance between us that keeps us divided.

We forget that …. We need to be reminded.

I wonder if you remember your first time in church. Maybe it wasn’t physically at a church building, maybe you’re picturing a gathering at someone’s home or a bible study in a coffee shop, but your first time to be around these people called Christians.  They say strange words like “amen.” The have strange traditions like eating the body and blood of a person who lived 2000 years ago!?! They actually think that God can bring together a world as deeply divided as this one!?! Over time, these traditions and teachings were given meaning, and the people you met maybe from within the church, maybe people you met who had nothing to do with church - still  taught you about God’s love by their own generosity and warmth and imperfection.


We come through the church building doors as individuals, maybe even at strangers, but in that space and time we are made one.  As the grains of wheat, once scattered on a hill, were gathered into one to become our bread, so may all God’s people, from all the ends of earth, be gathered into one in Christ.  We stumble through the awkward together,we risk relationship, until my worries become your worries and your joy becomes my joy- even when we’re unsure of what to say, even when we feel self-conscious about being accepted, even when we’re mad at each other, even when came in feeling hostile. And in the process of becoming one, our relationships find reconciliation and our hearts find peace and together we have hope. Together we become the dwelling place of God.  We experience God’s presence and promises in and through each other. Look at the person to your right, to your left, look at someone across the room who’s name maybe you can’t quite remember, think about someone you saw today at the store, who you passed by in traffic, who you passed by on the bench in the park, these are the many faces of the one Christ that you too are a part of.

And this holds true beyond this moment and time.  We come together to worship to be reminded as the Ephesians needed to be reminded...of who we are...together.  And who we are does not change when we leave these doors. On Tuesday, when that when someone posts something derogatory or unkind about another person, those are still people who are a part of you, a part of God.  When you find yourself in moments of woe at how deeply divided the world around you seems to be, may you be reminded that you are a part of God who knits together the far off and the nearby, into a beautiful patchwork of blessing.  May you know that the Spirit of Christ dwells within you...together. And may that inspire you to live boldly and graciously for each other. Amen.

Families are...

The Sacred Story this week comes from Paul's letter to the people living in the big metropolis of Ephesus - read the full story here.

Families are…

Families are a lot of things.  Families are where we find love, full of surprises, messy, lumpy. Families are a refuge, a choice, a soft place to land. Families are authentic, real, difficult, given and chosen. Families are complicated. Even the definition of family is hard to pin down exactly.  Are families defined by blood and genetics? Are they defined by proximity as in…people who live together? Are they defined by the nature of the relationship?


And so, of course, there as many kinds of families as there are definitions.  There are elite families that belong to social clubs so prestigious and exclusive, that you can’t even buy your way in.  It may seem easy to rag on them from the outside, but they can be communities of generosity and support too. And there are families that scrape by an existence or whose names will never be on a fancy plaque. There are families that either rally together beautifully in tough times or splinter under the stress, or do a little of both.

Families in the bible are no exemption to this complicated dynamic. It seems like every story is one of siblings who betray each other, parents who manipulate their kids, and marriages that struggle. And among them are also stores of families that forgive and reconcile, families that heal, families that empower, and families that bless.

The namesake verse of this community, Kindred, comes from the divine reminder of the Psalms, “how good and pleasant it is when kindred, when family, dwell together in unity.”  The holy hope is that families are ideally communities of comfort, in which we are loved unconditionally and encouraged. That this might be for us a web of people that we are tied to even when we don’t get along, one we can keep coming back to, and thus a relationship that helps us to grow.

The reality is that, for better or worse, our families have a lot to do with who we are.  They provide an inheritance for us that may or may not include grandma’s jewelry box, but we definitely will always have a part of her spicy spirit. They give us our medical history and our habits – from our faithful work ethic, how comfortable we are or are not in talking about our feelings, our sense of humor, the way we talk and the phrases and words we use, to hereditary disease, addictions, and  cycles of abuse. They shape us, even when we’re not immediately around each other.

We may become separated from each other for a variety of reasons. Families sometimes get broken.  We experience death, rejection, and harm at the hands of those who are supposed to provide love and protection for us. Even divorce that is ultimately a choice for long-term health, can cause confusion and hurt.  And sometimes, we have to know that it’s ok to distance ourselves from relatives and friends who only cause us pain. Earthly families are sometimes strained.


Paul is writing to a people who were deeply aware of these familial complexities. The family was the heart of life in the ancient world, a central part of culture and personal well-being. Families were the safety net for the elderly, the widowed, children and the sick.  You relied on your family to take care of you because no one else in society would. And so, several generations would live together under one roof the same way many people still live in other cultures.

Some of the people who heard the story of Jesus, were filled with passion and their whole household was baptized together.  Others who chose to proclaim that Christ is Lord, were rejected by their families who just wished they would worship Caesar like “normal” people. Some deeply loved and cared for their families, but had to leave them and emigrate in order to find work in the big cities like Ephesus. Family is complicated.

It is then vastly more profound to hear a Gospel that is told in terms of familial relationship. The family of God is one of radical inclusion and deeply nurturing relationship. It is a family where the broken parts are made whole, and the old wounds find healing. It is a family rooted in love and forgiveness and redemption. And you are a part of it.

And this is not by accident.  It’s not as if we stumbled into a good party and any second now someone will come up to us and say, “how did you get in here?” No, Paul says that we are chosen by God, adopted into this sacred household. God chose us – not after God saw that we were “good enough,” but before the foundation of the world.


Whether our families are made up of the people who share our genetics, or the children entrusted to us by others, or friends who become family or all of the above, whether they are large or small, near or far, functional or dysfunctional; we will always belong to a family that is holy and good, that is everything we dared hope a family could be and more. We are beloved, and forgiven - free of sin, and blessed to the same degree as God’s own child, Jesus Christ.

And what we inherit from this family is not just history or habits, not only a religious tradition and rituals or good values to live by. This inheritance isn’t stuff, but identity and relationship. It is the honor of being publically and universally claimed as a part of God’s lavish life-giving household. The thing passed down to us, to become our own to cherish, is the promised Holy Spirit with all its power and mystery. What a gift! What a wonder!

Blessed be the God and Parent of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the ideal parent to us and even to our children. Bless be Christ, our ideal sibling and friend, who has blessed with every spiritual blessing. Amen.

Politics, Sex, Money, & Religion

Our Sacred Story this week comes from 1 Cor 6:12-20 Read the full story here.

There’s this list of topics “they say” you’re not supposed to talk about in polite company: politics, sex, money, and religion. The Apostle Paul clearly does not care about that list. Y’all are going to think I’m crazy when I tell you that I actually hand-picked this text as the one I would preach on and that we would engage together. Talking about bodies and sexuality and religion….all together!?!  It’s a conversational hornet’s nest, better avoided that aggravated, right? These verses in particular have been used to deepen the rift between the carnal and the sacred, to cast sexuality as a shameful part of humanity rather than a divine one, to place rigid rules on “right” sexuality.

And I can see where some of that comes from...Paul is addressing the elite men here, the ones that could actually afford the “luxury” of participation in these practices. In the world of ancient Roman prostitution, temple servants were by far the most expensive. Unfortunately, he’s not particularly concerned with the well-being of women. But he’ll use any tool necessary including the shame of being “dominated” by women to get the men in line. He needs them to get with the program and do it quickly, because he thinks Christ is coming back around the corner any second now. He didn’t expect the world to last much longer. So he definitely would not have considered the impact of these words to people intercepting this letter 2000 years later. So this text is a jumble of all the things and it’s caused many church leaders to either condemn or ignore sexuality, but also the human body and its desires en total. And it spills over into our culture too.  I was helping with my daughter's kindergarten class during their weekly garden time and I overheard one of the young students saying, “shhhhh….that’s a bad word, you can’t say that, sex is a bad word.”  How early we are taught that even good things are to be treated as naughty.


But it is precisely this history of silence and downright abuse between the church and our bodies that causes me to engage these texts.  Because Paul is right at least in this, that this stuff is important, so it’s important that we talk about it. But this story isn’t just about fornication.

I’m pretty sure that word is only used in church settings, so it’s easy to get fixated on. And so we easily miss the forest for the trees. We get caught up in the onslaught of rules and stipulations, that we miss the seismic shift in how we are to understand our bodies and our relationships in light of Christ.

So what does the forest really look like? Why does this stuff matter in the church? Why is this important to Paul? To him, the good news of Jesus Christ as Lord of all meant that following this Christ would mean living as an alternative to all the other systems that try to make ultimate claims on our lives and how we live them. He understood Christianity to be a way of life that stood in contrast to a culture of commodity and a cult of power.  He was surrounded by a society in which people and things were reduced to objects, objects that are then glorified as if they are God. It’s a tale as old as time - it’s idolatry.

But why is this so pressing for the Corinthians? Why here? Why now? Well at the edge of the city, there’s this big hill, a steep bluff that towers over the town.  At the very top is the Temple of Aphrodite,the Goddess of love and passion. This place was renowned across the empire and known to employ somewhere around 1000 temple prostitutes.  It was a commonplace practice for well-off men to participate in things that weren’t just physical in nature but were considered sacred ritual.

Immediately following a couple chapters discussing relationships and bodies, we come to chapter 8 of this letter where we hear Paul explain that Christians should be thoughtful about eating food that was sacrificed in these same temples to these same Gods. Because the danger is that some will struggle to differentiate the object from its ritualized meaning. Food offerings at pagan temples were understood to be received at the table of the God’s and then returned to humanity. Thus by consuming such food, the traditions teaches that one is communing with and in communion with other Gods. And so this earthly thing becomes sacramental - an intimate connection to and participation with the divine in body and soul.  Similarly, in the temple, sexual acts were a means to a transactional faith, objectified to gain divine kudos. The human body is reduced to a mechanical manipulation, rather than a gift received.

The problem Paul sees with this is that our body, with all its desires, all of its capacity for connection and pleasure, is not just a thing that exists apart from our souls or our identity in Christ.  The Good News of new life in Christ isn’t just for some hidden part of ourselves, but for our whole self - including every wrinkle, every belly roll, every freckle, every goosebump, every embrace, every butterfly in our chest, every ecstatic release, every element that reveals God’s presence and promises in us and in our world. So, oddly enough, what might sound like a condemnation of sexuality to our 21st century ears, actually elevates and acknowledges our bodies, sex, and sexuality as something that is sacred, even sacramental.

original art by Shannon Schaefer

original art by Shannon Schaefer

Paul still isn’t saying that “anything goes”. And yet... the who, where, when, and how we love isn’t as central as the nature of our relationships with our bodies and the bodies of others that matters.  Paul’s ultimate concern is the direction of our hearts in regards to the most intimate parts of our life; that we hear God’s voice declaring us good and holy above any other. He wants us to see our bodies as the place in which God dwells, not only in the things we consider our best features, and not just some of the time, but in every cell and sensation.

If we proclaim that God, the divine, became human, fully and completely, in every sense of the word, then we also proclaim that incarnation matters. This matter is different because it exposes the lie that our external body is something we might be able to “disconnect” from our whole being from, it cuts through the lines we try to draw between our bodies and our souls.”

So why choose the risk of putting my foot in my mouth by picking a complicated text? Why highlight the matters of faith that sometimes make us blush? Why here, why now? It’s because we live in the shadow of a temple of “swimsuit-ready” bodies that implies some bodies are not fit to be seen. Because that is true for men and for women, and for all bodies.  Because more and more of us are awakened to the stories of the #metoo movement where the stark dissonance between the body being declared holy and being violently objectified is made all too apparent. Because we we too often find ourselves worshiping at the altars of filters, snapchats and apps that both remove us from our bodies and yet exhibit them.

And so, we too, need to hear the message that God’s love for us does not exist for us only in some other plane of existence, but in our bones and in our breath. We need to be reminded that our bodies are a reflection of the divine and thus are worthy of delight. That it does not belong to nor is it defined by those have or would use our bodies as an object.  That this is true even when we miss yoga practice, even when our legs are unshaved or unwashed, even when our bodies carry disease, even when our bodies ultimately fail us. Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, to whom you belong? For there is no limit or boundary to God’s love for you, therefore give thanks and glory to God for the skin you are in, with the body that the creator of the cosmos has created for you. Amen. +

On Belonging

Our Sacred Story this week comes from 1 Cor 1:10-17. Read the full story here.

I can picture this scene as one that’s familiar to any movie about a high schooler that’s new to town, and is assigned a “tour guide” to help them find their way through the social spheres of their new home.  As they say in Mean Girls, “You’ve got your freshmen, ROTC guys, preps, jv jocks, Asian nerds, cool Asians, varsity jocks, desperate wannabes, burnouts, the greatest people you will ever meet, and the worst. Beware of the plastics.” In this ancient Roman city of Corinth, Chloe, one of the women who are leading the early church, shares a similar account. The church there has divided itself up like the rest of society – not just into clubs and cliques, but into a hierarchy of who’s who.


These early Christians didn’t come up with this idea on their own; it is how their world was ordered.  Ancient Rome is organized as a system of patronage – in which everyone has someone who is above them, someone they “belong “ to, and your worth is determined by how powerful that person is.  The game is to become powerful by association. So if you were to walk through an ancient Roman high school cafeteria, from the top of the heap to the bottom you’d have – Caesar (who is a God in this culture), the Imperial family, senators, equestrians (which are basically knights), aristocrats, merchants/soldiers/artisans,  manual laborers, freed slaves, slaves.

The people of God took the system of power and privilege they knew in the world and perpetuated it in the church.  Their sense of self was defined by who they were connected to, whose table they sat at, and where they stood in relation to others in this social pyramid. I don’t feel like I can cast judgment on them or blame them; it’s what we as humans are prone to do.

I wonder how we might draw our own hierarchy pyramid in the USA today? Who would be at the top? Who fits in where? Maybe it would go: The president, Celebrities, those with titles or positions (such as chairman of the board, doctor), then maybe business owners and property owners/people with retirement plans, children, the old/the sick/the differently abled (those who aren’t able to produce like we think they should), and then those without property or ID (who are far more likely to be people of color), prisoners. Who would be at the bottom? In what ways do we buy into it? How does that affect your soul? In what ways do we do the same thing in our communities of faith?

I think breaking out of that system may have been particularly difficult for Corinthians.  You see, Corinth was the largest city in its region, and the 5th largest in the empire. It was a port city, a vibrant metropolis, a whole community that is driven by keeping or improving its place in the empire.  Perhaps ancient Corinth is a place not so different than Houston. And as a major city, they are steeped in the rhetoric and privileges of it all. And so it’s probably harder for them to shake loose of that worldview, to shake loose the ways of social pyramids and even spiritual one-upmanship.  It’s probably why Paul and the Corinthians write sooooo many letters back and forth. There was at least one letter before “first Corinthians”, and several more after. Because this isn’t a one-and-done discussion. Living into who God has called them to be is not an overnight thing.


We often forget who we truly are beyond the hype or the stigma placed on us by anything other than God. We forget that we are baptized, claimed by God, not into a country club of friends, but into the body of Christ. Remembering that we belong only to God and nothing else, in the face of constant stimulation that makes other claims about how we achieve belonging, is a lifelong endeavor. Paul’s work is to remind the Corinthians that they are more than their status, and the way their status is used to create divisions. Our work as church, is to do the same.

It’s not that God doesn’t see us as unique and different, or wants us to erase those differences. But who God created us to be, where we happen to be born, and the social world we find ourselves shouldn’t be weaponized against each other to create a hierarchy of love or divine favor.  God has something different in mind for how we relate to one another and to the world. The good news of the Gospel is that no one has an “in” with God over and above anyone else or is any closer or any farther from God than anyone else. No one denomination is more beloved by God than others.

Your worth doesn’t come from who you know. You do not belong to the system, to society’s expectations for you, you are not even owned by the expectations you place upon yourself. You belong to God.

You do not belong to God because of your status, or your citizenship or immigration status, or what you or don’t achieve, or how many followers, likes, or views you get on social media, or how well your family does or doesn't function.  You belong to God because that is who you are, who you were born to be.

Paul’s message, his hope, is that Christians would embody an alternative way of life, to practice it and bring it into being through the church.  That the Gospel would not only be told with our words, but with the way we organize and live together. In the way we not only talk about, but mobilize and advocate for justice that reflects God’s hope for a new world order. That we would communicate with our whole selves that there’s another way, that there is a bigger truth than the half-truths of the empire. 

Obviously, this idea, this promise isn’t one we can just switch a flip in our minds and believe, it takes time and experience; it takes the Holy Spirit working on us, in us.  But one we have a taste of it, a glimpse, we want to be a part of the day when this promise is known in full. Once we hear what is possible….it changes everything. It fills our hearts with a longing to build systems that reflect the promises we proclaim. A system where God is not only at the top – but in the middle, at the bottom, pervasive throughout every stitch of society. A system where….actually….that social pyramid with a top and bottom are flattened and extended into a wide divine embrace. A system without patriarchy or supremacy or nationalism. A system that doesn’t feel like a system, but a holy kingdom, a kindom. For God has sent you to proclaim, and to BE, good news for each other, for the city where you live, and for the whole world.  Amen.

Seen. Known. Loved.

The sacred story this week comes from John 4:1-30 - Read the full story of Jesus and the Samaritan Woman at the Well here


This is perhaps one of the most well-known stories of the bible and yet also one of the most misunderstood.  The irony is that one of the things that keep us from understanding it, is a belief that we already know it so well. We piece together bits from here and there to make a full picture of these people and places, but inevitably there are still gaps.  Our brain will automatically do its best fill in the gaps, but we may not end up with a true picture and we hardly ever go back later to revisit these ideas.

We do this often with people when we first meet them.  We make idle chit chat to discover a few key details about them and then we kind of assume the rest, label them as this or that, and put them in a tidy box stored away in our minds.  Democrat, republican, religious, non-religious, immigrant, racist, alcoholic, comedian, intellectual….We create stories that we think fits their whole being into a few lines - Oh, that person is the yoga-pants wearing diva who posts a lot of selfies, which we either view positively or negatively. Oh, that guy is a real estate agent who cares mostly about money and his fancy dog. That woman is of Samaria, and Jews have a stereotype of Samaritan women as sexually immoral.

Ultimately, our knowledge, even as we learn more and more about people and places, is limited.

Preachers and teachers will often highlight that in the eyes of a Jew, this Samaritan Woman is a racial and ethnic outcast, but they are really more like estranged family. Samaritans and Jews are both descendants of the tribes of Israel, they come from the same family, the same tradition -  but one settled in the north, the other in the south, and then centuries of history were geographically separated and would become ideologically separated, left to scapegoat one another and argue as to who is the most “true” or “right.”

These divisions among people festered until winning the argument became more important than the humanity of a neighbor. Sound familiar?  Or maybe you’re not on facebook?

I wonder….were they more motivated by passionate belief or by the fear that if they speak or act against the ”norm” or the company line, then they might find themselves cast out and alienated too?

We are prone to see people as one-dimensional caricatures and develop a story of character flaws that justify our fear and ostracism. When Jesus reveals the knowledge that this woman has had multiple husbands, the story in our heads that say Samaritans are the bad ones, the “others” comes to life and suggests that this woman must be sexually immoral, and therefore Jesus is gracious to overlook her depravity and still welcome her.

BUT, in a historical world where women would not have been free to divorce their husbands and an adulterer probably would have been stoned long before husband #5...the more likely scenario is that this woman was abandoned by her husbands...possibly because of infertility. The stigma leaves her outside the regular rhythms of mainstream society, where the women would go together to get water in the cool of the morning hours, leaving her to come alone in the heat of midday.  She is reduced by society to this caricature of a person who is not welcome.

This separation is created not by the soul, but by culture - by the world we create.

But...liberation is coming.  A fuller story is being unearthed as Jesus and the woman go back and forth, seeking to understand the other. Libration arrives as the woman comes out to share how this Jesus truly knows her - not as a one-dimensional character, but everything she has ever done, all that she has ever been, with all her flaws and triumphs.  It comes when she realizes that she is known, fully and completely by God, and that God loves her and invites her to drink of the well of life exactly as she is.

I’ve seen the power in this proclamation just this past weekend.  As my bishop and I and several other colleagues went to the Houston Pride Festival grounds to offer a blessing for anyone who wanted.  We stood there, somewhat awkwardly in our black clerical shirts, hoping someone would talk to us. Some people stood at a distance, looking at us suspiciously.  What kind of blessing were we offering exactly?  One person asked and I said we were simply there to remind people that they are beautiful and beloved by God. Some people declined a blessing but rushed up to hug us just for being there. Others excitedly took pictures with us. But when someone expressed a desire for blessing we looked into their eyes and said something like this:

“The church has often rejected, shamed, vilified, and demonized the LGBTQI community and its allies, and has actively worked to deny you God’s all encompassing love.  As a representative of the church, I apologize for the pain and harm that have been caused by the church, its people, or any of its expressions. And I lament that with you.

Beautiful child of God, created in God’s image, always remember that you are loved, affirmed, and celebrated by God for the amazing fabulous person you are!  I’m so glad you’re here. Have a fantastic Pride!”


This expression of being known and loved by God (and the church) made people’s chins quiver with emotion and brought tears to the eyes of those being blessed and those offering the blessing.  It was powerful.

God transcends the walls we build between each other, transcends even the walls we build between ourselves and the world. God sees behind the masks we wear as a means to survive and get by.


This way of life, of being misunderstood, mislabeled, misgendered, misrepresented, of rejection and fighting, of trying to carry the weight of the world with a brave spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, and physically...exhausting.  It leaves us thirsty, hungry. Jesus releases us from our hiding places and quenches the longing of our soul. Since this is Pride weekend, I can’t help but notice the connection between Pride and this sacred liberation. Pride is a time when children of God who are Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, and Intersex are especially free to be out in the open, unhidden, seen and known, and loved, and celebrated for who they are. It is like a holy day of jubilee for the LGBTQI community.

This is not the story of a sordid outsider being graciously tolerated.  It is not a story of Jesus stooping low to welcome someone who is somehow more unworthy than others. It is a story of the good news of being seen, of not having to hide, of being known, invited to participate with God, being divinely loved, and then sent to share your sacred story.


Jesus shuts down the binary that leaves us chasing our tails about who’s in or out. While there is an inevitable limit to what we can know and understand of ourselves, each other, and the world... there is no limit to God’s knowledge of us. And with that knowledge, God still loves us, cherishes us, nourishes us, and invites us in. Amen.

Finding the Sacred in the Shuffle

This week's sacred story comes from Acts 17:16-31 - Read the full text here.

So +KINDRED shares our building with a number of different organizations and groups.  It’s the heart of how we live out our life as a collaborative community. Only one of these groups is another community of faith (Canvas) and the rest are things like the farmers market Central City Co-op, occupational therapy practices, Botts LGBT archive, support groups, Montrose Grace Place which is the homeless youth program, Zumba classes, all kinds of things.  

Now, some of the people who run those organizations are Christian, some are Jewish, some are Pagan, some maybe used to be Christian but wouldn’t call themselves that now, and some people want nothing to do with any like that at all.

One day, as I was running around the building setting up for Holy Week, someone saw me as asked what I was doing.  Oh, me?  Oh, I’m just getting things ready for Holy Week.

            “What’s that?” they asked.

I had to stop and think for a second. Often we who have some experience in the church and the traditions of Christianity use language that we assume everyone knows.  I’m sure this probably sounds like babbling to many and I do it too.  So I had to think, how do I answer this question without using a bunch of assumptions or code words that would still mean nothing to this person?  I can’t just respond with “well, it’s the week that begins with Palm Sunday, and then goes to Maundy Thursday and so on….”

And it obviously wouldn’t be helpful for me to get all judgey and say “bless you heart.”

Rather, I have the opportunity to see this question as a remarkable and genuine gift of curiosity and discovery that we get to share together.

When Paul is hanging around Athens, heis brought to the Areopagus, what is also called Mars Hill…(Mars being the Roman God of War). And it is called Mars Hill because this was the place where they said that the God Mars stood trial in front of the other Gods.  And so this was now the place where people gathered to hear cases and settle disputes. 

Mars Hill Areopagus 2.jpg

Today, this hill is still a sort of gathering place where people climb up to enjoy their picnics and just hang out. It actually reminds me a bit of the hill at Miller Outdoor Theater here in Houston.

And here the people try to connect what Paul is saying with what they already know and understand, but they also notice that there’s something different or novel about what he’s saying.  And so they ask, with genuine curiosity, “‘May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? 20It sounds rather strange to us, so we would like to know what it means.”

And what does Paul do?  He meets them where they’re at – spiritually AND physically.  He’s out and about talking with people in the synagogues, in the marketplaces, with the philosophers, and in the place of Roman Pagan court.  He’s in grocery store aisles, the local coffee shop and watering holes, the drag bar and the stadium seats of the local ball game. And when they ask questions, he doesn’t condemn them for asking and not already seeing the world as he does.  He takes in their questions, their cynicism, and even their zeal. Paul recognizes that judgment is not his to dole out. He is not insulting or demeaning, not even silently judging someone else’s life or values. He speaks to them not using the church-y language of tradition, but in words they already understand.  He acknowledges and lifts up the good things that are already there: “I see how extremely religious you are in every way.”

Meeting people where they’re at isn’t a way to manipulate people, to woo them in with kindness and then “catching” them or getting them to come to worship with us.  We are called to meet people where they are because God is there. That’s the story Christians have to tell.

And so Paul points to a depth of meaning that already exists.  He makes a connection between what they already know and celebrate and experience, and their Creator who is reflected in those things.  He says, “that breath in your chest, that fills your lungs with oxygen and animates your bones…that’s God; this yearning within you for something beyond the easy answers…that’s God.”  He’s not pointing to some object or building, some other place or people and saying “God is that way, over there, why don’t you come over.” And this was RADICAL in a culture where people would go to extremes to travel and chase the best new thing that would bring them wholeness. Rather, he’s pointing to how God and God’s promises and blessing are revealed and experienced where we stand right this second. And this isn’t just something “non-believers” need help with; we all need help with this. We need reminders to see the divine in the daily, resurrection within our routine, the sacred in the shuffle.


That’s the unique story that Christians have a distinct story to tell. Paul still differentiates how the significance of this story is distinct from other ad campaigns and shallow promises.  But it is still a story that can make a connection of meaning across traditions.  It recognizes that our stories and our lives are more alike than they are different.  It gives us the eyes to see that, oh, the pillars of your Muslim faith are the oneness of God, prayer, charity, fasting and pilgrimage? Then we can certainly have a conversation there.  Oh, you’ve seen the church be hypocritical and exclusionary but you volunteer every month to help our city and its people?  We can talk about what gives us courage and hope.

We hear the call to repentance which is translated from the Greek word, metanoia which literally means….think bigger.

As Christians, we care about the freedom and safety of others to worship and connect with God or not, even across religions, even without any affiliation at all, even to doubt and question the very existence of God because we have the promise that pieces of God’s persistent love are evident in ways and experiences that might not be our own, and in ways that are beyond our knowing.  I am reminded of Jacob, dreaming in the desert with a rock for a pillow, who wakes up after an experience of the closeness of God and says, “surely God was in this place and I didn’t even know it.”  May we have eyes to see and ears to hear, to be reminded and to remind each other, of God’s presence and promise among us. May you, in this moment, with whatever is going on in you life, be intimately aware that God is with you and God is for you. Amen.

CHALLENGE PRACTICES: Visit the places of other faiths and different traditions LIKE The Islamic Dawah Center downtown - OR The Bahai Center -

Outlaw Faith

Our Sacred Story this week comes from Acts 16:16-34.  Read the full text here.

Y’all are going to get real tired of hearing about my trip to Turkey and Greece, but there were too many revelations for me not to share. Early on in the trip, we came to the Greek city of Philippi where this story happened. We’re walking around ancient temples, overlooking a large forum, headed down to a section of the imperial Roman road, when we come to a little stone alcove.  Tucked into the side of the hill there were these fragments of red primitive bricks cobbled together into arches and walls. The entrance is blocked by a gate but there’s a little sign there that labels this cave-like crevice as the prison cell where Paul and Silas were kept.  I go crazy snapping away with my camera when over my shoulder I hear the tour guide announce that this isn’t actually a jail.  It’s just an old Roman bath…but now I have awesome pictures of an old Roman bath.

Even though the structure may not be genuine, the significance of the site is no less. Everywhere we went, it was made more and more apparent that what Paul and the apostles were saying and doing…wasn’t happening in a vacuum. Their words and actions don’t take place in an abstract fantasy world, or a kind of biblical movie set. Paul was rubbing elbows with actual local business owners in the public market and speaking to the crowds on the steps of city hall. The message they carried about the Gospel, the Good News that God has saved the whole world, flies directly in the face of the empire which proclaims that Augustus Caesar (and the socio-political-economic system that he has created) has saved the whole world.  And this concept of Caesar wasn’t just in people’s heads; it wasn’t just a sort of general understanding. 

Savior of the World was the title of Caesar, and is inscribed in stone.  One inscription reads that “Providence … has brought our life to the peak of perfection in giving to us Augustus Caesar, whom it filled with virtue for the welfare of mankind, and who, being sent to us and to our descendants as a savior, has put an end to war and has set all things in order.” This is the leader of the free world. This is the world Christ is born into.  This is the imperial power that Paul is up against. This is why followers of the Way, what we would eventually call Christians, keep ending up in jail.

True Christianity will always be criminalized by empire because it asserts that there is a higher authority than those holding office and even those people and things that are worshiped as practical saviors. This kind of Christianity is not just the “I attend worship and you can find a bible among my possessions” Christianity.  It is living faith, a resurrection life that causes us to join Jesus in the work of “setting the prisoners free.” People need freedom from all kinds of things: addiction, greed, shame, perfection, even incarceration.

Just as Paul’s story does not exist in the abstract, it doesn’t land on our ears in the abstract. When you and I hear the word prison, we hear it in a country that has the second highest incarceration rate in the world – higher than Cuba, China, and Russia. And we hear it in a country that can not talk about imprisonment without considering the role of race, where ”in 2016, blacks represented 12% of the U.S. adult population but 33% of the sentenced prison population.” Are black people really more likely to be criminals? No!

What this biblical text shows us is that the thing that’s REALLY supposed to be dangerous is Christianity.  Christians are dangerous; they are a threat… to the status quo. Not just by insisting that we have more prayer in public schools or that radio dj’s say merry Christmas rather than happy holidays, but because Christians are the rabble rousers who insist that people be treated with the God-given dignity that society and systems deny them.  They disrupt unjust supply chains that keep CEO’s in excess while their employees are paid less than a livable wages and survive on food stamps.   Jesus talked back to religious and political authorities and it got him executed by the state. Only one of the apostles (the early church leaders) dies of old age, the rest are martyred.  This is not a call to anarchy, but as Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote to fellow clergy who were white….from behind Birmingham bars…” One may well ask: "How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?" The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that "an unjust law is no law at all."


Paul and Silas are just a couple of the faithful folks practicing civil disobedience across the eons.  We see it again and again, from black students walking into a white’s only Woolworth lunch counter, to today’s students walking out on the epidemic of gun violence.  The people of God have practiced civil disobedience for millennia. Remember the Hebrew midwives who defied Pharaoh and saved the Jewish infants rather than kill them, babies like Moses? Y’ALL, we who live in the tradition of Martin Luther are PROTESTANTS, protest is literally our name.

The message Christians carry is a danger to the idolatry that props up ultimate hope and salvation in anything other God, our creator. 

What if Christians were seen as suspect and policed harshly?  What if someone saw two people with crosses on their neck, sitting a little too long at a table in starbucks? They’re probably here to mess up our business like that other one...Paul. What if someone saw you praying and it made them scared and so you get shot?...if this was the situation in our country, we would think it impossible to deny the bias and systematic oppression against a particular population.

This is why we care about who goes to jail and not forgetting them when they’re there.  Because they are children of God, and we know that we deserve a place right next to them. But the promise of liberation is not just for noble freedom fighters.  It is also for thieves like the ones Jesus found himself hanging beside on the cross.  It is for those imprisoned mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. The gospel means that liberation is also for the jailers, those complicit in injustice.  It is liberation for the jailers AND all their people – their families, their culture, their society. The gospel shifts our sense of security and hope, our faith and belief from governments and systems, a hamster wheel of consumption that will imprison and enslave us all…to God and God’s kingdom which will not disappoint. Cleanses and heals us in the waters of baptism. And Invites us to a feast of rejoicing together.  Amen.

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