Miracles of Jesus: Raising the Dead

Raising the Dead: Luke 2: 11-17; Selections of John 11

I read an article the other day that talked about how people live their lives like zombies. No, wait, hear me out on this. Essentially, it noted that too many people go through the motions of life, without actually being alive. There’s no excitement over the little things, no pleasure in the day to day., nothing which really makes people happy and feel alive. It’s as though people have become the walking dead, if you’ll pardon the television show pun. John 10:10 reminds us that “the thief’s purpose is to steal, kill, and destroy. My [Jesus’s) purpose is to give…a rich and satisfying life.” 

The truth is that anything can be the thief causing this: depression and mental health issues, difficult life circumstances, overworked and burned out, and so many other things. I worry, though, that the article is exactly right when I see people asked what they are passionate about and what motivates them, and their only response is to stand there looking uncertain. We read about three things in our scripture that remind us Christ came to give us abundant life: first, we must remember that Christ is always present; second, we must have faith in Christ to give us life; and third, we must rely on Christ’s redeeming and restoring power. 

First, we must remember that Christ is always present. When Jesus learns of Lazarus’s illness, he delays two days in going to help his friend. That delay proved costly because Lazarus died and was buried during that time. Lazarus’s sister, Mary, even gets rather upset with Jesus, saying, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” I cannot imagine how hard that waiting for Jesus to make the trip must have been on Martha and Mary, and she was upset because Jesus wasn’t there in time. 

Very often, I believe we feel the same way. If only God had been there, the bad thing wouldn’t have happened. We ask the question, “Where were you, God?” We go through those feelings of waiting, abandonment, suffering, struggle believing in our broken hearts that God is not there. But that worry is misplaced. We are told in Matthew 28:20, “And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” We will never be abandoned or forsaken by God even when it seems like there is a sense of silence from the heavens. God is still with us and will be always, just as Christ arrived with strength and power for Martha and her family. 

Second we must have faith in Christ to give us life. When Jesus arrived at the house of Mary and Martha, it wasn’t just a show up and all is good, there were a few more steps in the middle. Mary was utterly distraught, but Martha knew something was up. She follows up her “if only” statement with this: “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask.”  Jesus then engages in one of the most powerful dialogues in the Book of John. He tells Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live. Do you believe this Martha?” And to her great, great credit, she responds wholly and fully in faith, “Yes, Lord. I have always believed you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” 

Martha knows that Jesus has power over all, even death, and is the Holy One sent from God. If you read carefully she believes and has faith more deeply, quickly, and assuredly than almost anyone else in the Bible. And there is no wavering in her faith. Christ cannot give abundant life where there is no faith. Over and over again we are told, “You must have faith.,” or Jesus critiques that the people have too little faith. Though Christ is always present, we have to be willing to engage: in faith, in prayer, in conversation, and in trust. Presence is powerful, but presence build on faith can be life changing for each and every person who believes. 

Lastly, we must rely and trust in Christ’s redeeming and restoring power. In the story in Luke, we see Jesus in great compassion bring back to life a young man who was dead. The people said, “God has visited us today.” And in the story of Lazarus we see that Jesus call out to Lazarus, who was dead, and Lazarus walks out of the tomb alive. Christ restores and redeems out of his love for us. When he arrives at the tomb, Jesus weeps out of his love and sorrow for Lazarus. And yet Jesus weeps even knowing that he would momentarily raise Lazarus from his death. Hope does not remove sorrow, but it gives something to look for beyond the sorrow in life. 

Our Savior has power over literal death, to give life after death, but Christ also has the power to give us abundant life in our here and now. The question we must ponder is whether we have the faith in Christ to do so. Mary, who sat at Jesus’s feet and learned from him pointedly accuses Jesus, that if he had been there Lazarus would not have died. Jesus is troubled by this and angered. But Martha, who says the same thing, moves beyond the accusation and disappointment to the realization that place of trust and belief. She realizes God will redeem and restore, and she realizes that power comes through Christ as the Son of God. Martha’s faith is powerful and deep, and our faith should be likewise. 

I hear many people in life talk about, usually after a tragedy, struggle, or life-altering issue, that they are going through the motions. Most of us smile and nod at that statement. But that’s not where we should stay. That’s not our resting place in life. To simply go through the motions means that the thief, the one who seeks to kills, steal, and destroy, has actually robbed us or even destroyed what we ought to have in life. Christ calls to us to give us abundant life. That’s not to be confused with eternal life. That means we are called to have abundant life here and now. 

How do we have that abundant life? We must recognize that Christ is always with us: in our coming and going, in our peace and in our turmoil, in our happiness and in our pain, and in all aspects of life, Christ is always with us and will never leave us. But we must also engage with Christ’s presence around us, in faith, with prayer, with devotion to Christian growth, with hope and relationship to the one who loves us and is always with us. And lastly we must trust that Christ will redeem us and restore us through his love for us as well. There is no need to go through the motion, to live life in a haze. Come to Christ who gives life, life to the fullest. 

Miracles of Jesus: Healing the Untouchable

Dreaded Illnesses and Untouchables: Psalm 18: 1-6; Luke 17: 11-19

I saw a sign the other day that said, “It costs zero dollars to be a nice person.” I think that phrase captures the entire essence and the lesson in this gospel lesson. It is almost a perfect summary. I have seen that saying around, usually people post it on facebook. And usually the people who post it on facebook are targeting it at another person they have a problem with. I can’t help but often notice, though, that the same people who post it, need to learn the lesson as well. Go figure…In this gospel story, though, we see two lessons at work: humility and gratefulness, and in many cases they go hand in hand. 

In Jesus we find a strong lesson in humility. During this time in Ancient Jerusalem, there was no cure for leprosy, and many ended up dying a horrible death from it. They knew enough to realize that the disease was transferred by human contact, usually from droplets of bodily fluid such as from a sneeze or cough. It was a truly terrible disease that anyone in Jesus’ day dreaded contracting. So, the only way to prevent the spread of the disease was to cast out those infected and declare them untouchables. Those who had leprosy could not enter the city, come into contact with people or interact with any non-infected person. Likewise, non-infected people had to regard people with leprosy as untouchable and avoid going near them. 

Therefore, not only did people live with the horrific and slow death of the disease, but they were ostracized, belittled, and emotionally battered by the people who lived in town as well. To contract leprosy meant a slow, agonizing death including physical and emotional suffering. That is what the people of Jerusalem had created in response to this disease. But Jesus did something different. Jesus had the humility to love and help those affected with this disease. 

Jesus could have ignored or ostracized the ten lepers as well. He would have been justified, and the town would certainly have thought it right and proper. But instead, when they cried, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” Jesus responded. He healed them By the time they went to the priest to be pronounced clean and healed, all of their disease was gone. They were made perfectly whole. 

The trouble for us is that people cannot be healed and made whole when we stand on the sidelines. Avoidance has never saved a soul, never helped  someone struggling out of the pit, never comforted a weary spirit, never been a calling of a Christian. It reminds me of an iconic photo from 1987. At the height of the AIDS epidemic, many people treated those who contracted AIDS similarly to the lepers of Jesus’ day. They were often met with scorn, ridicule, and being excluded from society. 

But there is an iconic photo of Diana, a princess, leaving the royal palaces to visit an AIDS hospital. She shook hands with the patients, held the children, and treated all of them as if they were human beings, with dignity and love. As one nurse at the hospital said, “If a royal was allowed to go in [and] shake a person’s hands, someone at a bus stop or the supermarket could do the same…that really educated people.”  Jesus did much the same here. The psalm says, “In my distress I cried to the Lord; yes, I prayed to my God for help. He heard me from his sanctuary; my cry to him reached his ears.” Christ was the humble healer both of the lepers and of all humankind. 

But  we also see a lesson in gratefulness in this gospel lesson. Ten lepers were healed by Jesus. They were elated, they were excited and overjoyed. They could re-enter society, reconnect with families, return to a sense of normalcy. Yet in the midst of the blessing, they forgot to be humble themselves, and to be grateful. We must never be so caught up in our blessings that we forget about the one who gave the gift. We must never be so caught up in our struggles that we forget the One who can bless us richly. 

Ten lepers were healed that day, but only one came back to offer Jesus thanks. He came back to Jesus shouting, “Praise God!” We are told he fell down to praise and thank Jesus for what he had done. He was a Samaritan. This is important. Samaritans were already outcasts in Jesus’ day. They were looked down upon and treated as lesser-than the Jewish people who lived in Jerusalem and the areas surrounding Samaria. Jesus’ healing of this man’s disease did not necessarily make him any less an outcast in society. And yet he was the only one who remembered to give thanks. 

The others, who we must assume were Jewish and not Samaritans, who should know better, failed to come back and thank Jesus for his mercy. They were proud, and in their pride, they were ungrateful for Jesus’ healing. The one who possibly gained the least from the healing was the only one who had the humility and grace to say, “Thank you.” 

And Jesus responds, “Has no one returned to give glory to God except this foreigner? Stand up and go. Your faith has healed you.” Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our lives, in our blessings, in our joy that we forget to be humble, and we forget to be grateful. Instead we must look to Jesus, who humbly and in love healed, helped, and restored even the worst illnesses, and even the farthest outcasts. 

I will never forget in college once that I got the flu twice in a month, and I spent nearly an entire month sick, in bed, and barely functional. No one came around or even got near me. We were all poor college students whose health insurance had run out and were too poor to get sick. My best friend and roommate moved out of the room. My professors told me not to come to class, for it would all be excused. For that month I was pretty much isolated and quarantined. The pain of no contact, no people, nothing but illness day in and day out nearly crushed my spirit. 

I cannot imagine what these ten lepers endured for the years of their sickness, of being outcast and made into untouchables. But the mercy of our Savior is deep and expansive to heal us, to help us, and to make us whole again. It costs zero dollars to be a nice person. To embrace mercy, to show mercy, and to live in mercy is a gift each day from our Holy Lord. So may we be grateful and joyful that God loves us so, and may we in turn be merciful to those around us in need of a healing touch. 

Miracles of Jesus: Sight and Speech

Sight and Speech: Psalm 100; Matthew 9: 27-33

In law school, I learned a new concept, a gunner. This was a person whom we all disliked, avoided, scorned. This was the person who, when a question was asked, would raise their hand and flop around trying to get called on then never stop talking. This was the person who interrupted your answer to correct you. This was the person that when you had four minutes left of class and the professor was about to wrap up just early enough for you to get a sandwich, you hear, “I have a question!” from the front of the room. The gunner was the person who never stopped talking, even though every single person sitting in the room wished they would. 

And yet, and yet, I realized something. When the gunner spoke, I took notes. When they asked a question, I jotted the response down in my book. I didn’t want to hear it, and I was certainly not enthusiastic about them taking more time and attention, but there was something valuable in his or her over-zealous reading and questioning. Sight, or vision, and speech are important elements of us as humans. These two abilities deal with learning, communicating, being moved, and our understanding. 

Jesus gave the gift of sight to two men who had lived their lives blind. He heals them, as he says in Matthew 9:29 because of their faith. There are many people who are blind in life, and I don’t mean in the physical sense. Many people, even those who sit in the pews at church, are spiritually blind to God’s ways and how Christ works. What does it mean for us to have spiritual sight? I believe the best way to describe it is some form of spiritual wisdom. When you see in faith you can feel the presence of God in your life, you can feel that tug and guiding. 

Many people say “God speaks to me.” And I believe it. Some may struggle with this idea, as it’s a bit more mysterious than concrete. But think of the very nature of prayer. Is it not more than just words coming forth, good ideas? Prayer is our very soul reaching out to connect with the Holy One. To be spiritually awake means you pray, you act in faith, you live in God’s presence and will, not by force or daily struggle, but by instinct. It’s like a relationship. Eventually, you don’t have to ask so many questions because you instinctively know those things about your spouse. 

I’m reading  book called Bygones, about a woman who has left her separatist Mennonite faith behind as she left to marry and raise a child with someone outside the faith. Now that her aunt has died, she must come and live in the town she grew up in with no electricity, modern convenience, or gadgets for three months to collect her inheritance. The book tells of the very moment her own blindness fades and she prays her first prayer in twenty years, of how she finds her way back to the meetinghouse for service, and how she re-discovers the power of faith inside of herself. 

The same can happen for us. Jesus heals our blindness; Christ can open our eyes, not just physically, but also to be moved in our spirit and in our soul by the holy things of life. Why does this matter? Well, our joy is found in Christ, our peace is found in Christ, our hope, all good things which are gifts from God come down from our awakened faith. Think of the hymn, “Sunshine in My Soul,” which says, “There is sunshine in my soul today, more glorious and bright than glows in any earthly sky, for Jesus is my light.” That light of Christ when our eyes are opened in faith gives us that kind of sunshine in our souls, though even the heavens may fall. 

We are also told that shortly thereafter, Jesus healed a demon-possessed man who could not speak. I think that sometimes we take this ability to speak for granted, especially in what we say and how we say it. Our current society seems to suffer from a bad case of, “If I think it, I should say it…and say it forcefully.” Now I struggle with this. I am gifted from both sides of my family with a talent for snark and sarcasm, occasionally a a quick temper if I’m hit just the right way, and a robust education has allowed me to think very expressively about what I might say in just such a situation. 

Here’s the lesson I have learned, before each of us says something, we should ask, first, whether Jesus would say this. Second, we should ask whether Jesus would say it in the manner in which we are about to say it. You can be funny and tease without being hurtful. You can be firm and stand your ground without being hateful. You can set boundaries without being mean. Our words should first and foremost be a praise to God: “Make a joyful noise to the Lord; come before his presence with singing. Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise.” An old wise Christian once told me, “You should spend your time blessing instead of bashing.” 

If we have been given the gift of speech, then we should spend our time using it to lift up others, to praise God, and to speak of love and goodness. We have more than enough bad things going on and spoken in our world and in our lives. Let’s use our smarts, our words, our voices to speak goodness. It’s a difficult spiritual skill to grow in your life, though. Someone irritates you? Pray for them instead of yelling at them. Someone disagrees with you? Speak your belief then reaffirm your love for them. Someone says bad things about you? Forgive them. See someone being oppressed, abused, or mistreated by others? Speak out! In doing such things, you are living as Jesus, and you are showing his light in the world, and anything apart from that is unacceptable of someone claiming to be a Christian. 

Jesus in many places is referred to as “The Word.” And Jesus was in fact the living word of God on earth, the one who came to testify of hope, of unconditional love, and of grace to all. We have the world of Christ written on our minds, on our hearts, and in our souls. We, too, are called to testify to this Word which praises God, lifts up those around them, and can potentially change the entire world around them. 

In school, I used to hate the gunner because he or she would run us over time and seem so obnoxious in class every day. But it is important for us to speak God’s word of hope and love to the world even if we are told to be silent, even if people don’t want to hear it. Speak, testify, tell of the Good News even if it may fall on deaf ears, for Christ is still the Word of God. So if we find ourselves lacking, we can lean on Christ to heal us, open our eyes to God’s holiness around us, open our mouths to bless and uplift other, and stir our souls to know of God’s wonderful love for you and me. 

Miracles of Jesus: Fishers of People

Fishers of People—Jeremiah 4: 1-10; Luke 5: 1-11

My guess is that Jesus knew how to fish. That must explain the success. I learned that lesson the hard way one time when I went fishing with a friend. We went to this small lake which was very calm and still. He said to me, “I”ll fish here, and you go down there a couple thousand feet or so, and we’ll see who catches the most.” I agreed and walked off. I set everything up, got my line in the lake, and caught all manner of things: several weeds, a bit of trash, a sunken log, but not a single fish. 

I was now fed up and went back over to my friend complaining that this lake was completely empty of fish when I noticed he had caught about 4-5 really large nice fish. The first look on my face was shock, the second was intuitive aggravation. I realized something in that moment. He knew how to fish, and he had fished here many, many times before. He knew where the fish were and weren’t. He knew the kind of bait they liked. He knew, as best I can tell, exactly what the fish were thinking…but that may be a bit much. 

You see it was the same here in the scripture. Jesus knew how to fish. Now, the disciples weren’t unskilled, foolish, or incapable. But they didn’t have Jesus’s insight into fishing. In order to fish in faith’s waters, we must fish with spoken truth, go out into the deep water, and be prepared to follow. 

First we must fish with spoken truth. I hate to call this the “bait,” but I have a long metaphor going, and I don’t want to break it up. Before the disciples cast their nets, before all the fish came in, Jesus commandeered Simon Peter’s boat (after he’d fished all night) to use as a teaching platform to the people on the shore of the sea. Jesus spoke to them and taught them. Likewise in the Old Testament, prophets had spoken over and over to the people warning them, encouraging them, pleading with them. Here’s a difficult truth: sometimes you will speak God’s word and people will listen, hearts will be changed, and people will find a walk of faith. But sometimes, no one will listen at all. Sometimes the bait works, and sometimes it doesn’t. 

God tells the prophet in Ezekiel 2:7, “You must give them my messages whether they listen or not. But they won’t listen, for they are completely rebellious.” The same is repeated in 3:11, “whether they listen to you or not.” When it comes to our faith, silence is not an option, and hiding is unacceptable. There have been many times when I’ve had to find a polite way to say to someone that neither God nor their family would approve, and they need to re-find their faith. But just as many times, I’ve told the most ardent of Christians that the Bible does not support what they say and their actions are not very Christ-like. Speak, whether people listen or not, whether they want to hear it or not, for you never know when a seed may be planted. 

Next we must go out deep into the waters. After he finished teaching, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Now go out where it is deeper, and let down your nets to catch some fish.” You see, Jesus knew how to fish, and Jesus knew where to fish. If we stay close to what is comfortable, in shallow waters, never going out, never risking sailing in the deep waters, we will be guaranteed to catch nothing. Jesus told the disciples to go out and fish in the deep water. 

God actually has a habit of sending folks into deep water and uncomfortable places while asking that people just trust in God to lead and guide. Jonah, though reluctant, was sent into hostile, enemy territory. Abraham was called up to go far from home to a promised land he’d only seen and heard of in visions. Paul traveled all across the known world speaking the truth of God’s word. Sticking close to the shore and playing it safe proves both that we do not trust in God and that we have no intent to truly reach people in love and faith and hope. 

Going out deep, does carry some risks. Peter stepped out of the boat and walked on water, but when he took his eyes off Jesus, he sank. We may go out deep and speak God’s word of love, but it’s possible nobody will listen. Keep fishing anyway. When Jesus told Simon Peter to go out into deep water, Simon Peter had just come off of an entire night of fishing and catching nothing. Simon Peter had to trust Jesus and keep fishing, even if he had to risk going out into the deep water. 

And finally we must trust and follow. After Simon Peter realizes the power of Christ, falls down before Christ in humility. Jesus replies, “Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people.” Simon Peter was called, just as Jeremiah was called, and Isaiah, Ezekiel, and so on. And we, too, are called to follow Christ and to fish for people. Many people take this as a mission to go out and convert with brute force. But there’s a gentleness in faith, in the hope that Christ gives. 

When we follow, people will see Christ in our actions, in our words, and in our ways of treating others. It takes being in and amongst people out in deep water where they can see and experience Christ in our lives. There’s a whole element to speaking truth with our actions. There are many great preachers around the world who do live, have lived: Billy Graham, D. James Kennedy, Michael Piazza, Rick Warren, Nadia Bolz-Weber, for example. And while it is the preaching and speaking that draws the crowds, they too are watched whether they are walking the faith they preach. 

You need to look no further than pastors of mega churches whose lives have included drugs, theft, and affairs to know that we speak of God not just in our words, but also with our lives. It is not the thought of bait that draws a fish, and no fish will come to an empty hook. It is the bait itself, there for the fish to see and experience. We testify to our love of others and of God by how we live and follow God every single day. 

So, just as Jesus said to Simon Peter, we are instructed as well, “Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people.” And when we do fish in faith’s waters, we must remember to continually speak the truth of God’s word whether it be to those who have no experience of God or veterans of the church. We must go out in deep waters where the risk is great but the trust in God’s promises overcomes all fear and doubt. And lastly we must remember to always follow God, for our lives are examples of the faith we believe and our walk in life must match our talk of faith and love and redemption. Let’s get ready, then, and do some fishing, for it’s very possible that our nets will be full too. 

Miracles of Jesus: Wedding at Cana

Wedding at Cana: Psalm 138; John 2: 1-11

A man was driving down the roadway late one evening. Behind him was a police officer who was noticing every time the man swerved, crossed the center line, or reacted slowly to a road sign. It took very little time for the officer to figure out the driver was impaired or something was wrong, so he pulled the guy over. The officer could tell the guy had been drinking and smelled what seemed like wine coming from the man and the car. So the officer asked, “Sir, have you been drinking?” 

The man replied, “Why no, officer.” I have not been drinking at all. All I have is my water. And sure enough the man produced a Dasani bottle about half full. Now, the officer was still rather suspicious because, clearly there was a smell, and the guy was still acting intoxicated. The officer looked closely at the water bottle and said, “Sir, um, you have wine in this bottle, not water.” The shocked driver said, “Oh my goodness! Jesus did it again!” 

In John 2, we hear the story of the wedding at Cana, which is typically regarded as the first of Jesus’s miracles, and the one which established who he is and his glory to the people. But most people ask: why this? Of all the things Jesus could do, why would he turn water into wine? That seems a little bit insignificant or even magic-trick-ish compared to helping the blind to see, the deaf to hear, the disabled to walk, and raising the dead. Why not start off big—make a splash? But you have to put this into the context of that society. 

Weddings were huge ordeals, often lasting for severn days of feasts and celebrations. The entire town would be invited, even those the families did not like, to force them into submitting and accepting an invitation. The wedding feasts were so important that people would often be excused from religious observances to finish these wedding celebrations. And having good wine and food was essential to the event. Two reasons they would have wine: first the water sources of that time might be contaminated and dangerous to drink from, especially with a large group of people. The idea was not to give folks an infection. The other reason is that, well, it’s a party, so there’s going to be some wine. 

But at this party, the wine runs out. And the original text makes clear that it didn’t just run out, but there was no more to be had or bought in the town. It was all used up. This would have been a huge social disgrace. In our day and time, it would have been akin to accidentally knocking the wedding party into a pool or lake right before the ceremony…almost unforgivably humiliating. So, Jesus’s mother goes to him for help. 

Why would Jesus’s mother intervene? We have no idea, to be totally honest. It could be this was a family friend, a relative, some more fringe scholars suggest this was Jesus’s own wedding, but there’s nothing scripturally to support that. We are not even sure what transpires causing Jesus to go from, “Mom, stay out of it,” to working the miraculous But Jesus turns water into wine, and it is the best wine they’ve had so far. There’s a bit of metaphor here. 

All that had come before was good, it was sufficient, but Christ brought the best. In this wedding, Christ acted with grace and hospitality to the family nearing shame, but Christ also showed that the best was saved for the last and yet to come. We hear those celebrations echoed in Psalm 138: “Yes, they will sing about the Lord’s ways, for the glory of the Lord is very great. Though the Lord is great, he cares for the humble, but he keeps distance from the proud.” There is no grace so wonderful as what Christ gives. It is completely free, wide and expansive, offered even to those completely undeserving, and wholly and completely life-changing for the better. 

That idea makes people uncomfortable because there’s a feeling that some explanation, demonstrations, understanding is needed for what this grace is, how it works, and when it happens. But that’s not how grace works, is it? Think of when you’ve seen grace in the little things in life. You spill your drink everywhere, and your friend quickly mops it up, makes sure you’re clean, and orders you another drink before you can even recover from the shock. Or, you argue deeply and forcefully with a family member, perhaps to the point of not speaking for some time. But eventually, there is forgiveness for what was said and done. Grace, in the spiritual sense, and grace in our daily actions defies logic and explanation. It comes, not from the intellect, but in our love for one another. 

If we think too hard about grace, we tend to come up with Jesus’s first response, “Dear woman, that’s not our problem,” Stay out of it…mind your own business…and for goodness sake, don’t look at them or they’ll come over here. The miracle at Cana was truly very simple, but it shows us that Jesus offers us grace in things both large and small, that even in something such as a social faux pax at a party, Jesus saved the hosts from humiliation in front of the guests. 

But there’s a foreshadowing as well. When Jesus talks about giving his life for us, it’s presented in terms of a cup of wine poured out for us: the body of Christ broken, the blood of Christ poured out. Though grace is free as a gift to us, grace is not always completely and totally free. Someone, somewhere, had to pay some cost. For Christ, that was the greatest miracle of death, burial, and resurrection. Christ had to give up himself for us to have grace. Think of it in simpler terms. If your friend’s drink spills, you have to give up your napkin to clean it up. If you are at odds and not speaking, someone has to give up their pride and be humbled. There is always a cost to grace in the holy sense, but it is never a price we pay, for God wanted to make sure grace was as free to us as those six jars of wine were free to the wedding host. 

There was some final and powerful significance in this miracle, though. Jesus had called disciples, but he had not yet proven himself to them. The lesson wraps up by telling us, “This miraculous sign at Cana in Galilee was the first time Jesus revealed his glory. And his disciples believed in him.”  We, too, may believe in Jesus to offer hope when our strength has run out, to offer grace when we most need it. Now, you may not be able to say that God turned your Dasani water into wine if pulled over by a police officer, but there is a significance here in Christ’s first miracle. Even in the smallest things in life, Christ’s grace and love are still there. Christ still turns water into wine and refashions us in his grace and in his glory. 

Looking Through Clean Windows

Things That Don’t Work: Jeremiah 1: 4-10; Luke 13: 10-17

How many of us have been caught, simply and plainly, caught, but we tried to make our best excuse and come up with a good reason only to hear this: “That’s not gonna work with me.” My guess is that’s happened more times than we want to think about this morning. I read a story online the other day that went a bit like this. A woman who looked out of her window to her neighbor’s yard always noticed her neighbor’s laundry hanging out to dry. It bothered and upset the woman because her neighbor’s laundry always looked dingy and stained even after being washed. She very desperately wanted to tell her neighbor how dirty her clothes looked and to do better with them. 

One day, however, she decided to clean her windows in the house. When she did, she looked out her window to the neighbor’s yard only to find that her neighbor’s laundry was crisp and clean, but it was her own windows in her house that were so dirty and unclean. In life, it is so easy to find the faults in others, and yet be blinded to our own sins. That concept of self-examination is noted in several places and considered very important in the Bible. We read in I Corinthians that as we prepare for Communion we are to “examine ourselves” (I Cor. 11:28). Likewise, in Psalm 139, we hear the words, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.” 

I think part of the problem goes back to an old saying in most of our denominational backgrounds, “Love the sinner; hate the sin.” I’m going to confess that I dislike and do not agree with this phrase for a couple of reasons. First, it’s not found in the Bible—it’s a quote loosely attributed to St. Augustine, but said actually in that well-known form by Mahatma Gandhi. You may find allusions in the Bible to hating evil things, but you won’t find that. phrase. Secondly it calls us to be of a dual mindset, and that is something humans do not do easily. 

The Bible tells us dual mindsets are a problem: you cannot serve two masters, for eventually, eventually, we will be forced to make a choice which one wins out. If we try to practice this concept of love the sinner, hate the sin, we will eventually slide down the slippery slope of a choice. We will either start to hate the sinner if the sin doesn’t resolve, or we will become accustomed to the sin. The first comes out as anger and bitterness, the second comes out as excuses for bad behavior. That doesn’t work. 

Look at the gospel lesson for today. Let’s get straight to the point: Jesus healed on the Sabbath, and to the religious leaders that was sinful. But Jesus had a new way of doing things. It was about the relationship and not the rules. They tried to shame Jesus by calling out his supposed wrong of working on the Sabbath. But Jesus stood firm: everybody does some sort of work on the Sabbath—might as well be good work. They tried to shame Jesus, but that didn’t work. Jesus chose the relationship of healer to this faithful woman over the rules of the temple. 

In fact, the Bible tells us over and over the importance of faith being a relationship. In Jeremiah, we read where God tells the prophet, “I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb. Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet.” Even from the very beginning, God focuses on the power of knowing us, of living in relationship to us. I can imagine the interaction as Jeremiah says to God, “I’m too young! I can’t do this! I can’t speak!” God sort of laughs and says, “Yeah, I knew you’d say that…you know, the whole knew you before you were born thing.” But, I digress. The important part is that in living in a relationship with God, Jeremiah was able to get all the support and strength he needed to live his calling. 

So, if these concepts don’t work, what, exactly, does work? Well, first we must love—equally and unconditionally. Folks tend to gasp and look wild-eyed when you pull back the rules and restrictions, but there’s ample scripture to support. Here are a few snippets: for God so loved the world (that being the whole world); love thy neighbor as thyself (with no phrases, extras, or addendums); he or she who does not know love does not know God, for God is love (perhaps the bluntest way this is stated in the Bible). 

I heard an older, tough lady say once to a pastor, “Ok, let’s go with this idea of just loving folks, now, how you gonna stop them from doing all that bad stuff?” I remember sitting at the organ, waiting with bated breath for the response, while flicking the same button up and down on the organ to look like I wasn’t actually listening. He replied something to the effect—that’s easy, instead of hating and attacking what is wrong, empower what is right. Help that person deepen their relationship to God, who, as the author and finisher of faith, can fix all things. 

Pray for one another’s relationships with God, that they would be deep and meaningful. Encourage one another in faith to be strong, to pray, to follow God’s good pathways in life. I’ve seen too many times where someone does wrong, and the first thing their church members do is come bounding down the warpath, “That’s sinful; God’s gonna hate that; you need to fix your self right now!” You can instantly see the target of that bow up defensively, ready to strike back. And I have learned, no one ever finds the love of Christ in their pride and anger. 

And yet, we can pray and encourage, heal and help. Look again at Jesus in our gospel. What would it have served for him to have looked at the broken and bound woman only to say, “How in heaven’s name could you have let an evil spirit get ahold of you. Shame on you!” Instead, in love and mercy, he healed her, then he defended her being healed and made whole. Look at the result in verse 13: “How she praised God!” 

Sometimes in life, we can look out the window, glance at the world around us, and find ourselves simply appalled by the fact that everybody is airing their dirty laundry. It can tempt us to even say, “What is the matter with you people! Look at your dirty laundry everywhere.” But maybe in those instances we should also stop to clean our own windows and examine ourselves. In the gospel for today, the broken woman praised God and renewed her faith because Christ showed love and mercy to her. We can never fix the world by judging it accordingly. Perhaps, though, we can take up our cross to love as Christ love, to heal, and, by prayer and example, to lead those around us to deeper, and more powerful relationships with Christ, who can heal and save the whole world.  

By Faith

By Faith: Isaiah 5: 1-7; Hebrews 11:29-12:2

Sarah was a good, old-fashioned, Appalachian woman. She was a short but strong lady who wore long dresses, had small, rimless glasses, and knew how to raise some vegetables in a garden and can every single one of them. She was a quiet woman with a big, warm smile that made you happy to see her. But most importantly, Sarah was what I would call a prayer warrior. She prayed for everybody, all the time. When she was waking up and making breakfast, she was praying, in her alone time—she was praying, as she canned beans, tomatoes, beets, okra, and everything else,—she was praying. In everything she did every day she found a way to incorporate prayer or have some sort of talk with God. 

And her prayers were never selfish. When she became very ill several years ago, she was asked whether she prayed for God to heal her in all those prayer times. She replied, “Certainly, not! That’s my time to pray for others. God knows what I need. I don’t have to ask.” I’ve always wondered how she managed to do that. What exactly kept her so grounded, so in tune with God in this way. She actually had a simple answer. She’d shrug and say, “It’s by faith. Read Hebrews.” 

If we are wise in life, we will look back on the folks like that and ask, “What can their faith teach us?” or “How can their lives of faith inspire us?” We will look for the lesson, then act on it. Such people are what we are told in Hebrews 12 are the “huge crowd of witnesses,” whether living or deceased, who teach us ways to deepen our own faith and trust in God. Hebrews 12 tells us, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” 

In order to survive here on earth, we will need endurance. When I was 20, I used to think life was a sprint. You run from one thing to the next, chugging a long, getting everything done, enjoying daytime naps because you stayed up all night partying with friends. Now in my 30s, I’ve learned that life is more a long-endurance run. You need the training, the support, and the stamina to withstand life’s troubles for the long-run. You may run from one thing to the next, but it feels like you’re in six races, in different states, all being run at the same time in different directions; you get nothing done; and you take daytime naps because you have to, not because you were having fun. 

We see that endurance in the saints who have gone before us and in the saints around us. Hebrews recalls stories of how the people of Israel overcame: miraculous trudging across the Red Sea when God parted the waters; conquering Jericho simply by God’s miracle of bringing down the wall; being able to send in spies to Jericho because God had worked a miracle in Rahab’s heart; and finally a whole list of saints whose lives of faith coupled with God’s miraculous works produced extraordinary things. It takes both of these: we have to be prepared to go “by faith,” and we have to be in-tune with God to expect and trust in the miracles God will work around us. 

Isaiah gives us the warning of what happens when we fail in this respect of trusting and walking in faith. We are given a song about a vineyard which was cultivated in love. There are abundant details of fertile soil, best vines planted, careful watching, some of the best farming descriptions I’ve seen. This person knew how to plant a good vineyard, and you know what he or she got? Bitter grapes. It’s symbolic of life too. Sometimes, no matter how hard God works in our lives or how hard we work to help others, we still end up with a bunch of bitter grapes. 

That…doesn’t turn out well. So here’s what happens: the vineyard is torn down and destroyed, walls pulled apart, trampled by animals, briers and thorns abundant, dried up with drought, and just plain nasty. Don’t let that be the description of our faith, the ultimate way our lives turn out all because of bitter grapes. We are told the path Israel took. God expected justice and found oppression. God expected righteousness and found violence and people dead in their faith. And so, they end up in ruin. 

But we must be inspired not to turn out that way—bitter, thorny, desolate, and empty of God’s goodness hostile to and abandoned by the one who loves us so very much. There are many who have surely struggled for their faith and in spite of their trust in God. Look at Hebrews, death, fire, lions, oppression, poverty, abuse—so many suffered in the saints who have gone on. I spoke with someone who had bitter grapes once. No matter what I said, what prayers we prayed, what encouragement was given, it all came back to the same thing: there was one thing in life they wanted they couldn’t get and had a chip on their shoulder believing that God was no good because of their “struggle.” 

Finally, at my wits end, and frankly, ready to destroy the bitter vineyard of grapes myself, I said, “Until you have been thrown into a giant amphitheater to be tortured and killed, I don’t want to hear that your life is too hard to bear.” Not exactly the best counseling technique, but sorry, not sorry. 

Instead we should remember the saints who inspire us, who teach us, then we should put into practice what we have learned. I’ve seen many people of faith whose have endured great hardship, suffering, and struggle in life. And yet, they kept their eyes fixed on Jesus to strengthen and help them, and they spoke, sang, and told their story of love and redemption over, and over, and over. The secret to this life is not to find a way to fix all your problems, but to remember all of our problems will wash away in the grace of Christ. Therefore, there is no reason to let them rule our lives here on earth, for God will either deliver us in this life, or will deliver us in glory unto the next. 

Sarah was a prayer warrior. Another from my childhood visited the hospital weekly showing love and care to the sick; another fixed cakes and meals for every hurting family around; another shared her faith in song and music; another quietly served doing all the little things to help out, the unsung hero; and another, and another. The lesson for us is clear, we see these saints before us and around us who teach us what faith looks like, inspire us to new and bold ways of sharing our own faith, and remind us to keep our eyes on Jesus as we run the race of endurance here on earth below. Though troubles come, though suffering will happen, this is my story, this is my song: praising my Savior, all the day long. 

Healing

Healing and Anionting: Numbers 21: 4-9; Mark 3: 1-6

I have long believed that churches should be agents of healing. However, I’m not sure we are always good at that. Let me give you an example. I have a friend who went through a very bitter and difficult divorce. It was quite a battle between her and her husband, no kids—thankfully, but a lot of property to divide up and hurt feelings in abundance. The process dragged on for over three years. During that time she attended church regularly, sought counseling from her pastor, and devoted herself to being in close contact with God. 

During that time, as well, however her pastor preached a sermon series on “God’s Biblical Marriage Guide.” There were two whole Sundays devoted to covenants and divorces. She said, “My husband cheated, I had every scriptural right to get a divorce, but my pastor made me feel so small, so sinful in those sermons, knowing what I was going through and suffering, looking at me repeatedly during the sermons, that I just quit going.” First and foremost, our churches should be agents of saving and healing, and that is a call from Christ. 

I hear that a lot from folks in church. People fit right into the their church and church family until…the divorce, the diagnosis, the miscarriage, the depression, the struggle to manage a mental illness, someone asks a question, or some uncomfortable truth is spoken out loud. Theologian Henri Nouwen says, “When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.” We are not necessarily given the tools to cure every ill in the world, but we are capable of bringing healing, and the two are very different. 

We see the struggle in Jesus’ lesson for us in Mark. Jesus meets a man with a deformed hand, which I’m sure was painful, ugly, and a horrific burden on the man. But there was a conundrum for Jesus: violate the Sabbath laws to heal this man, or send him away only to be hurt both in his hand and in his spirit as well. In times past, Jesus usually could catch the religious leaders with a tough question they were unable to answer. He tries it again here, “Does the law permit good deeds on the Sabbath or is a day for doing evil? Is it a day to save life or destroy it?” But this time, they were not shocked by Jesus’ teaching, they were angry, hardened, and murderously ready to pounce on whatever good Jesus did to make it appear evil. 

Jesus saw their hard hearts, their angry faces, the evil deep in their souls that they were so tied to their stupid rules, they couldn’t even spare a bit of love and healing for this suffering man. So Jesus showed him mercy and kindness, cured his deformity and healed his deeper wounds. And because Jesus did the right thing, once again, they decided to kill him. Sometimes I’ve found that the best religious leaders are also the best at plots to kill in our places of worship. 

So how do we live as agents of healing instead of destruction? First we must realize that we are to heal, not necessarily cure. When people bring their pain, doubt, or uncomfortable truths to church, they often find someone immediately grabs it out of their hands to try and fix it, to try and make it go away. Bible verses get quoted, assurances given, With good intentions mixed into fear, Christians scour their inventory for a cure. God has not yet revealed to me how to lay hands on someone and cure their ruptured appendix. But yet, I can sit with someone after surgery, pray with them, look after them and heal them. 

I think sometimes we are afraid, like the religious leaders, of looking like there are any imperfections in our lives. We often believe that since the world is watching, we have to be on our best behavior and hide our mess, rolling out beautiful photos and appearances of smiles, happiness, and ridding any semblance of dirt, disease, or struggle. But, as Rachel Held Evans writes, “if the world is watching, we might was well tell the truth. And that truth is that the church doesn’t offer a cure. It doesn’t offer a quick fix. The church offers death and resurrection. The church offers the messy, inconvenient, gut-wrenching, never-ending work of healing and reconciliation. The church offers grace.” 

I’ll never forget the story told by a seminarian at Lexington Theological with me. She was very new to pastoring and somewhat shy and unsure of herself. She got a call late one night that one of the biggest families in the church (one that was not particularly fond of her) had experienced a tragedy. Their teenage son had been in a car accident and was not expected to make it. She rushed to the hospital at the late hour, and found dozens of family members waiting anxiously for the news. As the hours dragged on, she rotated between sitting nearby, and holding the hand of the boy’s mother while she waited and others prayed. Finally, after news came that he had died, she hugged them all closely and went home. 

The whole time she was unable to find any words to say, had no Bible verses to quote, and was positive she had blown it and would be drummed out of the church. Instead she received a note saying they could never express their thanks enough for her being there. Her mere presence to be there for them was more than they could ever have expected. And she realized, she couldn’t cure their son from his injuries, couldn’t fix their pain, couldn’t make everything alright with a smile and a good word. But healing, real healing, starts with the willingness simply to show up and be there. 

We worry a lot, about what to say, how to help, and what if someone dies even when we pray, even when we work to heal? What if the church itself begins to die and dry up? What if we, in our struggles get swallowed up?” GK Chesterton says, “Christianity has died many times and risen again, for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave.” 

There’s a quote that goes around in different circles, and I’ve heard it in different contexts, One is from Ralph Abernathy, “I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know who holds the future.” But there’s also a song which says it this way, “I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know who holds tomorrow.” As Christians we are called to be agents of healing in this world. Does that mean curing diseases and casting out demons? I don’t know. I’m not really sure we have the tools to cure all ailments, but I know we have the power to heal whether or not the cure ever comes. And it starts by our willingness to set out on a journey, a tough road to be present with someone in their difficulty, and to find a way towards saying, “Yes, indeed, it is well with my soul.” 

Communion

Re-Examine Before Communion—I Kings 17: 8-15; Luke 22: 14-20

Communion is one of the most powerful elements of our worship. Rachel Held Evans writes, “The first thing the world knew about Christians was that they ate together.” Faith was a fellowship centered around this meal they ate together. According to church historians, the focus of the early communion services was not Jesus’ death, but on Jesus’ friendship, his presence made real again among his followers by the tastes the sounds and smells of food, of bread, of wine of all that Jesus shared. Jesus said to them, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” 

I love communion in the service because it calls us not to think, analyze, overthink, swallow any hard pills. It calls us to remember and do. rev. Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “Jesus did not give [his followers] something to think about together when he was gone, he gave them concrete things to do.” We are to eat this bread, drink this cup, and remember what Christ did for us. That act is truly more holy and potentially more powerful than any sermon you can hear, any prayer delivered, or any hymn we can sing. Why? Because instead of other people delivering things to you, Communion is the one point you can stop everything and be at one with God. 

Evans writes, “The elements and the meal are identified in different ways: the body of Christ, broken; the blood of Christ, shed; the Bread of heaven, cup of salvation, they mystery of faith, supper of the Lamb. But in every tradition I know, someone, at some point says, ‘Remember.’” We remember that Christ gave us life, that break and cup are reminders of both physical nourishment, but also saving life in Christ. Look at the story of Elijah. Here, he, the widow, and her son, were all at the brink of starvation. She was prepared to cook her last bit of bread, eat it with her son, then die. But simply by trusting what God’s prophet said, she sacrificed her last bit of food to share with him first. 

I struggle with this story. How do you do this? How do you trust some stranger that it is a good idea to feed him and magically you’ll have enough. How do you feed him first before your son? Perhaps logically she thought, “Well I’m gonna die anyway, might as well feed him too.” But I think, instead, we see her faith knowing that bread gives life and in sharing the bread of life with God’s prophet, God would be faithful to care for her too. There is a depth of power in this concrete act, of taking communion. 

Sara Miles was a 46 year old woman who wondered into St. Gregory’s of Nyssa Episcopal in San Francisco one day. She came with her friend. She had never attended church, never had interest in it. She was liberal, traveled, secular, and deeply skeptical of all things of faith. She was the last person you would expect to participate in ancient and sacred traditions of church and communion. But something happened. She was invited to the table, and I imagine with great concern and shock she found herself walking up to take communion. That might be shocking to us for someone to take communion who is an unbeliever, even antagonistic to the church. But something happened. 

Sara Miles writes, “And then something outrageous and terrifying happened. Jesus happened to me.” Sara felt dizzy, overwhelmed, charged with life, filled with something powerful. Suddenly she believed. She couldn’t reconcile the experience with anything else she’d ever done. And she could not pull away. She writes, “It was a sensation as urgent as physical hunger, pulling me back to the table, [pulling me into faith].” She went on to create a food pantry at St. Gregory’s, a massive one, which feeds the poor, elderly, sick, homeless, and marginalized in the community, giving them food, giving them life. “Do this in remembrance of me,” says Christ. Just as Christ IS the bread of life, so we ought to share this meal that gives us spiritual life, and the food which gives physical well-being with the community. 

For us sometimes though, communion is tough. We like to give to others, to earn things in life. We are a culture of achievers, sufficiency, can-do, winners, leaders, do-it-yourselfers. Held writes, “With giving I can maintain some sense of power, some illusion of control. But receiving means the gig is up. Receiving means I’m not the boss of what comes into life—be it trial or trouble, or unmerited good.” Robert Capon goes on to say, “Grace cannot prevail until our lifelong certainty that someone is keeping score has run out of steam and collapsed.” For Communion is a free gift from God. Communion calls us to remember Christ and his grace for us, and that is something we cannot control, or earn, or win over. We have to accept it, undeserving as we are. 

But that free gift is something offered to all. “The gospel doesn’t need a coalition devoted to keeping the wrong people out. It needs a family of sinners, saved by grace, committed to tearing down the walls, throwing open the doors, and shouting, ‘Welcome! There’s bread and wine. Come eat with us.’ This isn’t a kingdom for the worthy; it’s a kingdom for the hungry.” Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. Jesus’ own words tell us this. Christ was eager to eat this meal with his followers, we are told in Luke. It was the teaching of something new. That instead of sacrifices, veils, walls, and temples, Christ, symbolized in bread and cup, was right here, right among the people, and is right here with us too as we remember. 

Bishop Michael Curry, who is the head of the Episcopal Church in America, yes, the VERY one in charge of that denomination, tells a story of young woman who joined the Episcopal church in the 1940s in the South. She invited her fiancé to church one day. Both of them were African American, but the church they attended was all white and right in the heart of segregated America. The young couple felt tremendous fear as they walked up the aisle to the rail to take communion. In the Episcopal tradition, everyone drinks from the same cup. Both were terrified of drinking from the same cup as white people. This had never been seen or done before by either of them, I mean, goodness, even the water fountains were separate…and here the same cup? 

As they knelt, the priest tilted the cup, gave them to drink, and said, “The blood of of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee, to preserve thy body and soul into everlasting life.” They knew immediately they had found something powerful, unmatchable, Christ-like. That couple was Bishop Curry’s parents, and they raised a powerful preacher and servant of Christ. 

The bread of life; the cup of salvation: free gifts given for you so that you may have grace, love, and abundant life. You don’t have to ponder on it, analyze it, decipher it or even mathematically add it up. Instead you merely have to come to this free gift, accept it, and let Christ transform your life. Do this, in remembrance of me. 

Purpose

Re-equipped for a Purpose: Deut 34: 5-12; II Tim 1: 1-9

The philosopher Thomas Hobbes once said, “Outside of society, life is nasty, brutish, and short.” That idea has developed into quotes from authors like David Gerrold, which say, “Life is hard, and then you die.” Now, my young idealistic self sitting so pretentiously in my political theory class with Dr. Stroup nearly had a meltdown at this dark and difficult idea. Just over a decade later, when that alarm goes off at 5:30 am, “approaching-middle-age” me much more thoroughly and deeply understands this idea of things being nasty, short, and difficult. 

In many ways, we see a lot of suffering in life. As I drove through Albany the past couple of days for work, I realized that many people live every day in a type of suffering we don’t know or understand, and that we certainly don’t comprehend as being in our own country. That is why a community of faith is important both for us as individuals and as a group. We need only look at the scriptures for today to realize that importance. The Israelites travelled as a group together. Here we read of the transition from the leadership of Moses to that of Joshua. It was very simple. Moses laid his hands on Joshua, Joshua was filled with wisdom, and now he was in charge. We read how Paul wrote letters to others for comfort, encouragement, and to keep the communities of faith together. 

Why? Why is this idea of community so important? Paul gives hints: he will be filled with joy when they are together and God has given us s spirit of power, love and self-discipline, not fear and timidity. These things come from our togetherness, from our encouragement of one another, from our excitement and encouragement as God’s people working together in hope and in grace. And, because in order to do our purpose, we need the talents, skills, and calling of everyone in God’s community, working together. 

In talking about how we are all ministers and called to serve, Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “To be a [minister] is to know that things are not as they should be and yet to care for them the way they are.” That means surrendering our cynicism, attitudes, and pride to take up the cross, to take up Christ’s call and follow. Rachel Held Evans expands on this idea by saying, “Whenever we show others the goodness of God, whenever we follow our Teacher by imitating his posture of humble and ready service, our actions are sacred and [pastoral]. To be called…as all of us are, is to be called to a life of presence, of kindness.” 

The problem is we are human and we get, as my Granny would say, where something “aggravates the stew out of us.” I have yet to figure out the full meaning of that, but it’s bad, I suppose. Paul, who is in prison, writes, “never be ashamed to tell others about our Lord…and don’t be ashamed of me, either” even though Paul is currently in prison for his preaching. And yet we all get aggravated and irritated. I have repeatedly this week as things came up, life got busy, and I travelled from the coast to Albany, to Americus, to Macon, tomorrow to Columbus, to Marietta as well. I’m tired, grouchy, and oh so human. Things seem a bit short, nasty, and brutish, and most likely that’s an apt description of my personality in those moments. 

But I was reminded of a call by Rachel’s book, “Through touch, God gave us the power to injure or to heal, to wage war or wash feet. Let us not forget the gravity of that. Let us not forget that call.” This week I listened as a man told his story of living in an abuse personal care home, not licensed or controlled by the State of Georgia, but just hidden away from society by a true criminal. Now let me prepare this with, the level of horror I deal with on a weekly basis is beyond what many of you may see in a lifetime. 

He told how the lady put him in a home with no water, a/c or heat in Albany, and left him there. She took him off his anti-psychotic meds which, of course, caused him to act out wildly. When he became too gross, wild acting, and unprofitable, she and a couple of her help drug him kicking and screaming out of the house, slapping and hitting him, and threw him out at a hospital. When I am tempted to be difficult, irritable, and snarky, I remind myself that I am too blessed to have that attitude. 

Paul writes, “I remember your genuine faith, for you share the faith that first filled your grandmother Lois, and your mother, Eunice, and I know that same faith continues strong in you.” Timothy was strong in his faith, his love, and service because he had a foundation both in himself and in the communities he served. As Mark 7: 15 says, “It’s not what goes into your body that defiles you; you are defiled by what comes from your heart.” So what comes up out of our heart? What comes up out of our mouths? What good and Christlike things do we put into the world around us? What words and thoughts of anger and hatred and unkindness do we spread? 

“Ultimately,” writes Evans, “all are called. All belong to the holy order of God’s beloved. The hands that pass the peace can pass a meal to the man on the street. The hands that cup together to receive Christ in the bread and cup will extend to receive Christ in the immigrant, the refugee, the lonely, or the sick and dying.” So then, just as we are all called, we are all equipped for a purpose. A friend of mine, who is a long-time church musician, told me that one time she was playing quiet organ music for a service of healing and anointing. Her back was to the congregation, and she felt so removed and apart from them. Later, she told the pastor, “I feel like instead of being behind the organ, I should be out there laying hands on people, helping them, healing them, doing the same work as others here.” The pastor replied, “Oh, but you are, from your hands on the keys of the instrument, you are healing just as powerfully as my hands laid on their shoulders in prayer.” 

“There is a power in touch—a connective energy—a bond, for the Son of God healed with his hands.” When Moses laid hands on Joshua, he was filled with the spirit of wisdom. And when Paul laid hands on Timothy (in verse 6) it fanned the flames of the spiritual gifts God gave him. We are all called by God, and we are all equipped for a purpose by the same God who gives all power, all healing, all strength, and all love. Many say life is short, nasty, brutish, that it is miserable then you die. But in faith we say, “God gave us the power to injure or to heal, wage war or wash feet.” Let us not forget the power in that. Let us not forget our call.