Sermon February 26, 2012

Genesis 9:8-17

Psalm 25:1-10

1 Peter 3:18-22

Mark 1:9-15 

“Blessed Connections”

Sometimes I fool myself into thinking that my choices and my behaviors have little or nothing to do with those around me. I don't do it in every second of every day, but when I get lazy and don't think or reach out to other people, I forget that everything that I do and say—and many of my thoughts and feelings—impacts other people, sometimes profoundly. And I am reminded how desperately I—and all of us—need the grace of God.

The natural world carries messages of God’s grace. We will encounter some of these messages in the readings through Lent. Ancient people understood: all creation fell and rose together, what affects one species affects all – human actions have planetary and even cosmic implications. The oneness of creation under God’s grace shines in every rainbow arching through the clouds, a witness to God’s promise that the earth from which we come will never again be reduced to its primordial chaos.

And though God's creation is one it is also broken, troubled, as broken in some times and places as it is beautiful in other times and places. And many times the beauty is revealed in very painful moments.

The scripture that we read this morning from Genesis describes God's promise to Noah and all of creation, the first covenant God make in the scriptures. This promise—this covenant—conversation occurs after the flood story that describes how God was so angry at human beings and their murderous actions that God decided to destroy every one of the people except for Noah, Noah's wife and their three sons and their wives. All people accept the household of Noah were destroyed in this account of an earth-covering flood.

The story of a universal flood isn't exclusive to Jewish scriptures—the story of a flood is contained in many ancient texts. What makes the biblical account unique is that it wasn't about a battle between gods, who destroyed human beings because they distracted them from their lives. Those gods then decided to use water to wipe the planet clean and start over. The biblical story is about God's outraged response to humanity's violence against each other—and saving the one family who were righteous and could be trusted to teach that to subsequent generations.

And then the story continues in this morning's scripture when God see the destruction of the flood and promises never, ever to do it again. And God sets a reminder in the sky—not a reminder to human beings or to the other living things of creation—God said, '¹⁴When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, ¹⁵I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. ¹⁶When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.’(Genesis 9:14-16)

God wanted to remember the promise and covenant of life, so that life would be the result of God's actions toward all of creation. Though God's destruction stopped humanity's violence against other human beings, God saw the promise, the covenant, had to be made with God and all living creatures who suffered destruction and loss in God's anger.

Though there was brokenness before the flood, God's covenant was an attempt to re-join, to re-member the unity of creation bringing it closer to God's harmonious and unified intention.

In the flood story and especially in its conclusion, we are reminded by repeated affirmation:

1. I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, ¹⁰and with every living creature
2. This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature
3. it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth
4. I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh
5. I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth
6. This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth

Six times in ten short verses, God says that Noah (the human family) and every creature and the earth itself are together, one party, in this covenant.

The rainbow covenant binds us to each other and all living things:

“Compassion can be roughly defined in terms of a state of mind that is nonviolent, nonharming, nonaggressive. It is a mental attitude based on the wish for others to be free of their suffering and is associated with a sense of commitment, responsibility and respect towards the other.”¹

What I do has an effect on you (all of you) because I am connected to you and what you do (all of you) has an effect on me (and one another) because we are connected. Sometimes and with some people that effect is more obvious—the closer my relationship to you, the more immediately what I do impacts you. Unless we are very close, you might be able to ignore what I do for awhile.

And when relationships are broken in various degrees, from slightly imperfect to incredibly estranged, the brokenness impacts us all. The story of the flood describes that kind of brokenness, when humanity was so incredibly murderous, violent, bloodthirsty that God chose to destroy life rather than preserve it—things must have been bad. And yet, when it is all over with, though God has no assurance and must have the very real knowledge and awareness of our violent capabilities and future, God promises never to destroy life on that scale again. God promised never to over turn the order of creation to the destruction of the primordial watery chaos that preceded creation.

So if we are compassionate, as God realized the need to be compassionate in this first covenant, then we recognize that for anyone to live in peace, in kindness and in free of unnecessary suffering, we must all make choices that promote peace, kindness and justice for all living things. If God can recognize a need to promise never to destroy again, we, too, need to recognize how our hands cause pain and acknowledge and confess how our choices contribute to war, apathy, and injustice.

And we can recognize that making different choices can make a difference for the good in this world. It might take some time, study, conversation, contemplation, prayer, etc. to figure out what the better choices are, but I am positive that all of our lives can be made more compassionate, just a little bit at a time.

Throughout our scripture readings this morning, we have seen how lives are transformed in relationship to God and to one another. In 1 Peter, the author compares Noah and his family's passage through waters to baptism, where the life of an individual becomes one with the Body of Christ—and takes on those attributes. In Mark's gospel, it is in Jesus' baptism where he recognizes and God acknowledges Jesus as God's Beloved Son. Together these texts—along with the text from Genesis, show us the power of relationship and how transformation means life, hope, salvation, and redemption from evil for all of creation.

When we know our brokenness, we know how it is that God has made us whole. When we understand how we have fallen short, we recognize how it is that God's compassion has drawn us the rest of the way. When we realize that we are never alone, but always and every day connected to God and to all living things, we realize that our lives can be blessings and so can the lives of all living things.

To the glory of God, our compassionate and loving creator, redeemer and savior. Amen.

1The Art of Happiness: a Handbook for Living by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Howard C.Cutler, MD
(Australia, Hachette, 1998), p. 114

Sermon February 19, 2012

2 Kings 2:1-12

Psalm 50:1-6

2 Corinthians 4:3-6

Mark 9:2-9

“Thin Places”

The title for today's sermon, “Thin Places,” is a Celtic term for places in the world where people have experienced visions, heard music, felt changes or been transformed by the influence of another world beyond this one. The Celts, early people of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and England, had a keen sense for thin places. Biblically, places like a mountaintop were thin places, though they certainly weren't the only ones—places like rivers, lakes, bases of mountains, and broad valleys were also places where people were transported or experienced God quite vividly. They revealed God's call toward what came next—for Moses, for Elijah, for Jesus, Peter James and John and perhaps for each one of us who follow in their footsteps.

When Peter and James and John went up to a mountain with Jesus, they were probably knowingly approaching a thin place. They knew the stories of the mountaintop and how God was often encountered there.

If you think back to the lives of Moses and Elijah, the mountaintop was where they had vividly, actively and fully known God's presence in their lives. Moses first encountered God at the foot of Mount Horeb in a burning bush, but then during the journey through the wilderness, he visited, spoke, communed, and otherwise experienced God at the top of the same, Mount Sinai or Horeb.

When Elijah had killed the prophet priests of Ba'al, after Ahab and Jezebel had been killing the prophets of Yahweh, the Lord God, he ran to escape their vengeance, eventually ending up in a cave at the top of Mount Horeb. And he was told to wait for God there, eventually hearing God in “a sound of sheer silence.” —or as the King James says, in a “still small voice.”

The mountaintop was a thin place—a place where God's presence peaked out of eternity and into the temporal and limited place of humanity. As one author describes it, “Truth abides in thin places; naked, raw, hard to face truth. Yet the comfort, safety and strength to face that truth also abides there. Thin places captivate our imagination, yet diminish our existence. We become very small, yet we gain connection and become part of something larger than we can perceive. The human spirit is awakened and will grow if the body and mind allow it.”¹

Moses represented the iconic lawgiver, though he was a prophet and leader of the whole nation of Israel, his presence, his name represents the Torah, not just the rules, but the God's word of law itself, written and unwritten. Elijah is seen as the symbol of the prophet, though he was a passionate upholder of God's law, too. He represented the power of the prophet to speak against the power of the king and the queen, any ruler who ruled unjustly and without righteousness.

The story we heard this morning from 2 Kings describes the power that Elijah—and is the seed of the idea that because Elijah did not die, his presence heralds the coming of the Messiah to the Jewish people.

So when Peter, James and John were led up a “high mountain apart. . .” as Mark describes it, we are supposed to remember these stories from the mountaintops, these memories of the thin places where God has been experienced in faith history. And once they are there, the three disciples knew that something incredible was happening—the location would have been convincing evidence alongside their experience and their eyewitness. Jesus' presence and conversation with the personified Law and Prophet, was a revelation even before the voice from the cloud proclaimed him as God's Beloved Son.

It isn't often in Mark's gospel that Jesus proclaims his own identity—the title he gives himself almost exclusively is Son of Man, which can simply mean “human being,” but it is also a title for the Messiah, God's chosen or anointed one. In the telling of this story, as Mark describes Jesus alongside the Law and the Prophet, he takes his place within that tradition—and as a new word given by God. He is revealed as a continuation of God's revelation, as he said, “until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.”

Peter and James and John were chosen, it seems, as particular witnesses, to remember this moment and take not of it within his whole life among them.

All three of these disciples come to moments in this gospel where we know they struggle, as we do, with how to be faithful. Just before this event in the gospel, Peter questions Jesus' decision to go to Jerusalem because Jesus has just told them it means he will die. Shortly after this event, James and John ask to stand at his right and left hands in his coming kingdom. It may be this reason that Jesus calls them to wait until they experience the crucifixion and resurrection for themselves before they try to express what they had just seen.

If these thin places reveal the truth, the cold, uncomfortable truth, then they reveal it about God, the eternal certainly and they reveal it about ourselves. In Peter, we hear his misunderstanding continuing, as in the previous chapter, he doesn't understand that the end of Jesus' story, the death and resurrection are necessary to understand the rest of Jesus' story. So he wants to make this glorious visual experience the ultimate meaning—like the festival of the booths that celebrates the Jewish journey in the wilderness—because he doesn't yet know the rest of the story. In his eyes and in the throne and crown filled eyes of James and John, Messiah was meant to destroy their most recent oppressors, the Romans, but the meaning of a crucified Messiah had to be demonstrated. It had to be real, really real.

The glory of Jesus' life and his story would be set among the word of God, the Law and the Prophets as God's very own Word, God's very own Son, but that glory would come in humility and it would come through a demonstration of God's power over violence. It would not come, as they would someday learn, through a violence work of vengeance, but that in the reality that the life God gave Jesus could not be defeated.

And we learn, through our experience of the holy, eternal God, that we are valuable, beloved daughters and sons of God, and yet small parts of the infinite whole that is all that God has in store for God's church. Our own desires have to be set within the life and purpose of all creation.

We aren't to build memorials to one experience or to one another—and just stay there—our experiences of God must move us, shake us and take us forward. We are fed and encouraged by the thin places, urged toward transformation and energized toward the purposes that God gives—and each one of us fits within the whole universe of what God has in store.

To God's glory—on the mountaintop and on the cross. Amen.

1http://www.thinplaces.net/openingarticle.htm by Mindie Burgoyne

Sermon February 12, 2012

2 Kings 5:1-14

Psalm 30

1 Corinthians 9:24-27

Mark 1:40-45

“Healing Presence”

All of the texts today remark on the physical: physical disease, the nearness of death, athletic prowess and exercise, and restoration to health. And though they are truly concerned with the physical: the emotional, the spiritual, individually and communally cannot be completely separate experiences.

Personally, I have never been ill with anything that seriously threatened my life. But I know that that is a temporary situation—death is inevitable for all of us human beings. I've experienced pain—most severely, I've had back pain that kept me in bed for about 2 weeks a few years ago. I honestly couldn't move sometimes without tears. And I've experienced emotional pain when friends have hurt me; I've experienced mental pain and depression; I've known the pain of loneliness and unwelcome solitude; and I've experienced the pain that comes in a family where adulthood means marriage. I also know the pain of sexual discrimination within my family, my church and in the world. And I have been loved, truly and honestly, by people in my life and by God in Jesus Christ.

Disease and pain, suffering and deadly illness have historically been reasons for rejection, causing pain even beyond the illnesses themselves. The pain of rejection that has been connected historically with disease is still a painful part of our world. People with AIDS, and other communicable diseases, even people with some forms of cancer are blamed and rejected for their conditions. Ignorance and hostility, fear and hatred cause more pain to those already suffering.

In two of the scriptures today, we hear about people who have leprosy. Biblically, leprosy could have been any skin disease that caused discoloration—even buildings could have leprosy when mold or something like that caused the walls to change color. Disease on the outside of the body was often associated with some hidden sin, an immorality of the individual or even from the parents. Pure things, clean things came in one color or were of one substance—impure things, even things called abominations, could have simply been mixtures or unexpectedly odd. Skin diseases known as leprosy might cause discoloration or scaliness, so the person might look like they had fishy skin or scales like a lizard. Modern leprosy or Hansen's disease can be more serious than other conditions they might have called leprosy in the bible.

In the bible, folks whose skin was mottled, scaly, and those who truly had Hansen's disease, were kept separate from those without those conditions because they were considered unclean. It wasn't just a matter of real contagion, passing on bacteria or viruses—but the idea that sin and evil could be experienced as physical illness and would make other sinful or evil by association. In other words, an unclean person (such as a person with leprosy) could make a clean person unclean with a simple touch. Evil rubbed off and righteousness was no protection.

In the story of the good Samaritan—in Luke's gospel—we hear how the priest and the Levite, two people who had to maintain ritual cleanness wouldn't touch an injured man for fear that he was dead and would make them ineligible to do their duty because they would be unclean.

When Jesus was approached by the man with leprosy and begged for healing—an unclean man required by society to shout, “Unclean, unclean!” whenever he saw others coming near—Jesus was, the bible says, “moved with pity.” The words used, however, could also be translated “moved with anger.” And if Jesus was angry, can you imagine who was the target of that anger—the people who suffered from disease or the people who cast them out?

Jesus had a choice—to follow the prohibitions of his society and religious law or he could make him clean. Probably moved by pity and anger, Jesus touched the unclean man and made him clean. He turned expectation on its head—when Jesus took the time to touch him, the man was clean again. When Jesus touched him, he was a part of the community again. Jesus, by his courage and his belief in justice drew him back in, instead of keeping him out.

Though it's not the exactly same, sometimes folks who do not fit into a accepted way of living are treated as if they must declare themselves to be unclean to keep from contaminating others. One of these exclusions include people who have never married and are never quite accepted, in my experience, (and in my family) as real adults. Some people are legally or culturally excluded from marriage and the very real emotional, financial and societal benefits of marriage. Some families, churches, cultures, or traditions never accept that women in any marital state are fully and responsibly adults. Even milder mental illness are still suspect in some circles. Very young people and the elderly are often excluded from any participation in decisions and conversations. Racial prejudices can make us question the legitimacy of some folks' humanity and participation in decision making, government, family responsibility and other institutions.

The majority culture might not think of all of these folks as contagious exactly, but there is a fear that broad inclusion and the idea of real equality among all human beings will somehow weaken all people. What if we allow “that” person into our lives, then what? Where “will” we draw the line? Without rules about who is in and who is out, won't there be chaos?

On the other hand, it is likely that each one of us has experienced a moment, a time, a relationship where we have known friendship and love that has redeemed us, restored us to wholeness. When we experience that connection with God in Jesus Christ, we realize that we are loved—though we are aware of our imperfections—we still know and are known to be loved. And though we come to know that love primarily through Jesus Christ, someone, somewhere in some way welcomed me, welcomed you, invited me, invited you to know that kind of love. For some it may have been family and surrounding culture, for others that kind of welcome came from someone who knew that love and saw that you didn't know it yet.

It was Jesus' willingness to be present with the leper, that gave him the opportunity, the welcome and invitation to become a part of his community again.

After Jesus made him clean, he told the man to go to the priest—according to the law of Moses—and show him his skin so that he could participate fully in his faith. Jesus never left his Jewishness behind him—this was an important part of who he was. Jesus wanted the man to be able to go to synagogue, to go to Jerusalem, to participate in scripture readings, times of prayer and community mourning. Full participation in all of those things: weddings, births, etc. required the priest's declaration of cleansing. Not to mention, that would have been a testimony to God's healing power, even without the hand of Jesus. And Jesus told him to keep it a secret, too.

This is another little quirk of Mark's gospel—Jesus told people several times in Mark not to tell anyone about their unusual experiences with Jesus—and every time, they told anyway. Scholars speculate about the reasons. Perhaps Jesus was aware that unless people had faith in what God was doing in Jesus, the action would be misunderstood as a kind proof instead of a revelation of what God was doing in the world.

But the excitement and passion that came from those encounters with Jesus seem an almost irresistible temptation. The excitement and passion that our initial experiences of God can give us a hint about the charisma of the physical presence of Jesus might have meant.

And we are meant to bring that presence with us in our lives, to carry Jesus Christ with us—imperfectly and with the brokenness of what it means to be us—but into all the lives that we touch. We can reveal in ourselves the welcome and love, the healing that we have received. When we know Jesus, we can remember and realize that the God's love, known in him can take us through all kinds of situations. We won't escape death, but we'll do it as beloved children of God. We won't escape hardship, disease, pain, betrayal, suffering and life in general, but we won't do it alone. We do it as a community of faith, welcomed here by the presence of Jesus Christ and in the power of the Spirit. We do it as redeemed and restored patients, in various states of brokenness, age, sinfulness and healing. And we do it because we are loved, all of us—all the time.

To God's glory and in God's infinite love. Amen.

Sermon February 5, 2012

Isaiah 40:21-31

Psalm 147:1-11, 20c

1 Corinthians 9:16-23

Mark 1:29-39

“Sustaining Ministry”

I invite you to sit comfortably in their seats with feet on the floor. For the next two minutes we will be sitting in silence. I ask you to close your eyes, let go of all thoughts, and remain still so that there is as little sound as possible. I will tell you when the time is up. After sitting in silence for two minutes, you'll turn to someone and talk about what it was like to sit quietly for those two minutes. If there are those too young to sit very still, we will enjoy the spontaneity of the moment, and realize our diverse limits.

Consider how it felt to be quiet that long. Can you think of one word that describes it? (It doesn't have to be positive or negative necessarily . . .

Now, some folks like the silence and some folks don't—some of our thoughts are comfortable to sit with and sometimes those thoughts aren't so comfortable. But sometimes we have to sit with ourselves—and contemplate our experiences and our understandings to know what next step to take into our lives.

Let's listen to the gospel lesson again retold through the voices of Simon and his wife. . .

Mark 1.29-39 Re-told
Simon: We went from the Synagogue incident with the unclean spirits 

to my place for some food and rest, since we were still in the area. 

When we got there, we discovered that my mother-in-law was in bed with a fever. 

My wife told me as soon as we entered the house, and since Jesus was right 

with me, he heard also. He asked my wife where her mother was, and off he went. 

I followed him and saw him take my mother-in-law by the hand. I didn’t hear his prayer,

but he helped her to stand, and she was well – the fever had left her. As if she had never

been ill, my mother-in-law, along with the other women, was offering Jesus and our guests 

hospitality. 

Simon’s wife: It was remarkable, and what struck me most, I think, was how Jesus 

received my mother’s hospitality,our hospitality, as much as the way he himself had 

served my mother. There is something about it, it was as if he actually saw us women  

and was grateful for our welcome and our work. It seemed he actually valued us for who 

we are, as well as what we did for him. It was most unlike the behavior of Jewish or

Roman men of our time. I thought I heard him say to my mother that we reminded him 

of angels who had ministered to him in the wilderness. Then he himself was so gracious;

 people surrounded our home in the evening, even after dark, and he met their needs, 

healed them, heard them, and sent harmful spirits and demons out of them. 

He was a man who was at once gentle and very forceful. It was an amazing night. 

I am quite proud that my husband is able to travel with this man. 

Simon: In the morning we couldn’t find him. It must have been still quite dark when

he got up and left, so I don’t know that he got much sleep. We looked for him for

ages. Eventually we found him in an isolated spot on the edge of town, sitting under 

a tree praying. I am afraid we barged right up to him, because it had taken us so long 

to find him and we were a little angry, not to mention afraid and confused that having

only just called us to follow him, he might have left us. Anyway, we told him that every-

one in town was looking for him, but he said we were going to leave. He said that

he had come to proclaim a message and that we had to go to other places and 

do just that. So we went, compelled by something in him so strong it could 

only be the Spirit of God, and we heard him proclaim his message, saw him heal

 people all over Galilee, and witnessed his fame spread like fire through dry grass. 

In the gospel of Mark, people who are insiders are those who know about Jesus and who he is. Outsiders are those who don’t get it. Throughout the gospel the disciples are presented as “outsiders.” They almost get it many times, then lose it. “Mark appears to have deliberately painted the disciples as failures, perhaps because they were, perhaps as an educational strategy to challenge believers in his own time.¹”

And it's not necessarily the worst thing to be an outsider—and outsider is learning, the demons were portrayed as insiders and understood who Jesus was, so he wouldn't let them speak. The disciples had a natural role—like the people of Mark's community and like us—in trying to increase their understanding of who Jesus' was and figure out his purpose. They were learning by experience, integrating what they heard and saw and felt into their understanding of how God worked in the world and how God brought salvation.

One of the lessons they had to learn from Jesus was his commitment to serving the sick and those who suffered from the influence of evil—demon possession is the way that Mark describes them. He didn't turn anyone away; he healed those who asked. And he also went off alone to rest, to be restored and to renew his conversation with God—in other words, he prayed.

They also learned, eventually, that he had to get away occasionally. He went out alone and prayed when he was tired and overworked. He must have rested in the presence of God whenever he had the chance to meet the challenges that he was given. Mark's gospel is the fastest moving and never seems to stop—and immediately or the next morning or a few days later—it also stresses the times that Jesus disappears for few hours. Jesus worked hard and with a sense of urgency—but the prayer and solitude were essential to the work. If you read through the gospel of Mark, you'll see that he tried to get away more often than he did, but was often mobbed by those in need.

Yet that solitude was still a necessity and he took it in spite of the needs of others. His need for God's strength was no more and no less important than that of others. It's not selfish to commune with God; it is absolutely essential.

And when Mark tells the story of Jesus laying hands on Simon's mother-in-law, we hear that afterward she was a deacon to him—serving him and the others—as the angels were deacons or servants to Jesus in the wilderness. While historically, this may be a realistic representation of women's places in the home at the time; biblically, this word deacon or servant already has a sense of role within the church in Mark's time. The word reflects Jesus' action to the people—he was served as he had served her and cared for her.

Work followed healing; rest and restoration follows work; work is rewarded with time to renew, eating and drinking with friends; the meal of companionship or fellowship becomes a place where the message is revealed; the message becomes a source of purpose and forward motion; and action is followed by a time of reflection . . . ministry is sustained because it varies and cycles. Ministry and mission are balanced by rest and reflective prayer. One sustains the other; and vice versa.

Our times of worship are meant to fuel the ministry that we do. Prayer and praising God, singing and preaching . . . as in the story today, when we are served—our response is to serve. When other reach out to us in ministry, the gift we have is to carry out ministry to others. Though our duties may change as we move from age to age and stage to stage of life and faith, there is no retirement age for a Christian, to quote a good friend.

Though the disciples are portrayed with some ignorance of Jesus' ultimate identity and mission—their eyes and ears were open daily to learn from all he had to offer. They may mirror us with great accuracy—we learn more each day as we connect with God in prayer—and we learn more still as we mirror Jesus' ministry, the work that he did, the compassion of God that he carried to the neediest people all around him.

In mission, we learn what loving action reveal within us. By carrying out the will of God through the ministry of Jesus Christ, we share the blessing that we have have known, multiplying that blessing by adding choosing to act with our own hands and feet in Jesus' name.

It isn't magic, but it is powerful how the ministry of Jesus Christ has been sustained all these years and within all of us even now.

May God be glorified as we continue that ministry—in cycles of work and rest, in God ordained times of ministry and times of Sabbath worship and rest. Amen.

1SeasonsFusion, “The Gospel According to Mark,” page 8. by William Loader, Emeritus Professor of New Testament, Murdoch University, and Minister of the Uniting Church in Australia.

Sermon January 22, 2012
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 62:5-12
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Mark 1:14-20

“Moving Forward”

Wave your hands up high when you can answer yes to any of the following questions:

• Who here has moved to a new house this year?
• Who here has chosen or found someone to be a special friend?
• Who here has fished or watched someone fish?
• Who here has heard somebody teaching in a way that really made them feel excited?
• Who here has jumped at the chance of doing something different?
• Who here has put down whatever they were doing in order to go with someone who was calling?
• Who here has wondered what it would be like to leave everything and start again?

The scriptures today say that it's time. It's time to get up and move. It's time to preach God's good news of repentance and forgiveness. It's time to realize that God surrounds us with life—the difficult and the easy. And that God surrounds us with people who are also difficult to deal with and easy to to get along with.

God gives us homes, families, parents, sometimes children, friends, people we call enemy or who call us enemy, competitors, cooperators and all kinds of other folk. God gives us people to love and sometimes those we love hurt us more that those we call enemy. They can do things that hurt us so badly that we can't or don't forgive them.

And in the midst of the world that we live in the world that God gives us daily, God calls us to share the good news we have been given and live the message of good news through all that we do and for all the people we meet.

But in the midst of the messiness, and even though the time is ripe—and though the opportunities are there, there are lots of obstacles in the way of the life God calls us to live. At least that's how we see it.

Jonah was called to preach God's good news of repentance and forgiveness to people who had oppressed his people. They were known to be badly behaved toward one another, too. They cheated and lied in their business dealings because it made them rich. And he was supposed to preach God's message to them?

In the letter to the church at Corinth, Paul writes that life cannot continue as they expect, because life as they know it is ending. He encouraged them to end family relationships and suspend even their mourning because times were different. He, in the same vein as Jesus, was calling them away from the status quo to a new world. They were supposed to turn away from their normal ways of living and be citizens of heaven, even here on earth.

And then there is Jesus. As Jesus walked along the shores of the Sea of Galilee, he saw fishermen working. The town of Capernaum was dependent upon that industry for income. People fished, wove nets, sold dried fish, built boats, and other related work. When Jesus saw a few of these fishermen, he called to them, “Come follow me into God's kingdom and you will catch people for God.” And they walked away from their jobs, their families and many of their day-to-day responsibilities. Though we might admire their commitment and faith in Jesus Christ, what if we saw a friend or family member do the same thing, leave behind a job, a family, an aging parent to follow Jesus into mission?

And all of these happen because, guess what? It's time!

And it's not time because the calendar says it, or the alarm clock has rung, it's time because the values of the realm of God have been revealed. (Again and again.) We are called to move forward, living in such a way that says that God's word and way of life is imprinted indelibly in your heart—forgiving others, seeing injustice and naming it, feeling injury and healing it, repenting of our falling short and celebrating joyfully when we feel the harmony of the kingdom of God in our lives. We are called to live that way because we have been shown what that looks like. And doing all of those things in the seasons and times when they are appropriate—and the time that God has ordained with the coming of Jesus is a time of joy, righteousness, forgiveness, grace, and gratitude. This time that we live in—though it falls short of God's glory in each moment—is a time that has been redeemed from damnation.

The complication with living in this time of redemption—is that we notice the imperfections so clearly and pointedly. We often only see what seems like evidence of God's absence, instead of noticing the presence of God in people and situations, And we notice God's kingdom by living our part within that kingdom as it exist today—in this time, in this place—or to whichever place God calls us to live it.

But whenever we begin to experience this new world—this new way of living, there are risks and there are dangers that we need to watch for. In the midst of our life in God's kingdom here and now, we aren't called to ignore injustice, but to voice the truth as we see it.

When Nineva was full of sin and evil, God didn't send Jonah to tell them that they had no need to repent, but God sent Jonah to tell them that they would be destroyed by their own evil if they didn't turn their lives around. God told them how to get there—and they took the choice. (Jonah later gets very angry that God's love overcame God's anger, so God gets angry at Jonah . . . being whiny is different than a call for justice and equitable treatment of all human beings.)

In Mark's gospel, Jesus calls his new disciples to leave one way of life behind to live another—a life characterized by his revelation of God's kingdom in the world. He called people to repent from one way of living into living another. The disciples themselves seemed to be living normal lives there on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, in the town of Capernaum. But, I would guess, that these ones who answered Jesus' call were looking, seeking, paying attention so that they saw when they were being offered a different kind of life. Though they didn't live evil lives as fishermen—this life they were offered had a new and exciting purpose; by following Jesus and participating in God's kingdom, their lives would have a direction beyond what they had had before.

But it's scary to pick up and leave one life for another—most of us don't do it unless and until we are forced. How do you feel when you think of moving? I get anxious and nervous and maybe scared. I also feel excited and curious—depending on the next step I think I am taking.

But the truth is that our lives do change even when we don't plan on those changes; the truth is that we have to move forward into the opportunities and options that we are given, unless we choose to give up.

The time was ripe for Jesus to walk into the lives of those fishermen and make them seekers of residents for God's own kingdom—and the time is also ripe for us, to seek out people who want to live lives as disciples of Jesus Christ. You may not meet them every day and you may not even know who they are when you do, but you do carry a message with you as you move forward into the life that God has given you.

And though life changes and the way that you present the message may change, the message itself is consistent. God wants people to turn their lives around, to choose to take God's help in doing it and to do good things for people who need good things done in their lives. And those good things can be risky to us, we may have to give up time spent with the activities we like most and look at the world with new eyes, seeking how our time and talents can be used to move farther into God's kingdom.

• Make a phone call that lets someone know that you care enough to ask. Pick someone that seems unpopular or just a little outside your comfort zone
• Write a note, send an email, post a message, communicate your love to another person—and God's love through your own.
• Decide to help one person this week in a way that feels new and risky.
• Think of ways to take a risk in reaching out to some group that feels as distant and as risky as the city of Nineveh.

We can do the ministry that Jesus is calling us to do, even in tough times and times that threaten to overwhelm us. In those times, however long they last, we can remember that God loves us in our struggles and through them. God constantly calls us to live that love and reveal that love throughout the stages and ages of our lives, when times change more than we could ever have imagined and when we need a push to move forward into the places where God's purpose can be fully lived.

To the glory of God's everlasting and loving glory. Amen.