Living Elsewhere--Philippians 3:17-4:1

There is an old rabbinic tale that goes like this: Once upon a time there was a man who was traveling through a village on his way to a distant city. He sought shelter with the well-know, hospitable village rabbi. As they ate a simple supper together in the rabbi's home, the traveler remarked at how sparse the rabbi's furnishings were, as he saw only a few chairs, a table and some books. The rabbi responded that he was amazed at how few items the traveler possessed, as he had only a suitcase. The traveler replied, "But I am only passing through." The rabbi said, "So am I, so am I."

The Apostle Paul, a Jewish Pharisee yet a Roman citizen, writes from his Roman prison, telling the Philippians, "Our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our earthly bodies into glorious bodies like his own."

Philippi was a Roman colony in Macedonia. They were proud of their Roman citizenship. They knew how to live in one place yet be citizens of another, with all its benefits, privileges and responsibilities. Paul uses their familiarity with this concept to help them understand their situation in Christ. Yes, they were living in the world, a particular culture, with all it's assumptions and expectations, but they were citizens of another place. Having been firmly planted in heaven, through Christ, their cultural environment was not to hold power over them any more. They could stand back from it and see it for what it was--a transient, temporary phenomenon which would pass away. The anxiety that their cultural environment produced in them could be released; they belonged to an eternal kingdom.

What in your life is making you most anxious today? Can you find, within yourself, that spacious place where you can let go because, in reality, you are living elsewhere?

Pastor Steve

Psalm 91:1-4

You who live in the shelter of the Most HIgh,
who abide in the shadow of the almighty,
will say to the Lord, "My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust."

For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
and from the deadly pestilence;
he will cover you with his pinions,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.

Late last Wednesday evening in a darkened hospital room in Olympia, my step-father, Art, lay in bed heavily sedated, breathing shallow and irregular, while his assistant pastor, Steve, bent low close to his ear and read him Psalm 91, that great Psalm of deliverance. I was a little taken aback. My step-father was facing imminent death after a long battle with kidney failure and other ailments. Deliverance wasn't in the cards for him. The family had decided to keep him comfortable until the inevitable. I was thinking the 23rd Psalm would be more appropriate, offering reassurance that the Good Shepherd would lead Art home. Art died later in the week, comfortably, having fully received the love and care of his family, his pastor and the Good Shepherd.

Since then, I've given more thought than usual to Psalm 91. I like some things about it. I don't like others. The promise of deliverance of course is beautiful. But the promise seems so uncompromising. What happens when God doesn't deliver, when a thousand fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, and you fall too? What happens when you can't escape evil? What does this say about God? Is it a matter of believing hard enough or saying the right words?

It is also so conditional. God protects those who love God, but are they the only ones God protects? Do others stand a chance?

Is this an appropriate Psalm when all hope is lost?

Read it for yourselves. What do you take away from it?

Luke 5:1-11--Put out into deep water...

"Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, 'Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.' Simon answered, 'Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.' When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break."

We all encounter failure in life. I think it was Thomas Edison who said something like, "If you haven't experienced failure to a sufficient degree, you aren't trying hard enough." Failure is common but discouraging, especially if it is spiritual failure we're talking about.

Simon--we also know him as Peter--was a fisherman by trade and had worked all night on the lake with his partners to catch some fish. Not a bit of luck. Discouraging but not uncommon, I suppose, if you're a fisherman. Whatever your occupation, sometimes things just don't work out. Jesus, in the morning, encourages them to "put out in deep water and let down your nets for a catch." Don't you love it when someone from another occupation, who knows nothing about the intricacies of your work, tells you how to do your job? Simon complains initially that they've tried all night, but this was Jesus after all who is doing the asking, so they do as he says. They catch an abundance of fish. Immediately, we become aware that this is not a story about the occupation of fishing. It is a story about the spiritual life and ultimately about the kingdom of God.

Is your spiritual life dry and lifeless? Do you feel like a failure in following Christ? Could this text be inviting you to go deeper? How might you do this? I'll talk about these matters in the sermon on Sunday.

Passion and Insignificance

This past week we had a guest preacher at the dedication of our renovated sanctuary at Woodland Park Pres, so I got to take a break from preaching and did not blog. The dedication celebration was a rousing success, as we had many former pastors and members in attendance to help us give thanks to God for the many years of ministry here and look forward to many more years.

This coming Sunday, we'll be reading Jeremiah 1:4-10 and Luke 4:21-30 in our worship service. Here's part of the Jeremiah passage:

"Now the word of the Lord came to me saying,
'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
and before you were born I consecrated you;
I appointed you a prophet to the nations.'

Then I said, 'Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am
only a boy.' But the Lord said to me,
'Do not say, I am only a boy;
for you will go to all to whom I send you,
and you shall speak whatever I command you.
Do not be afraid of them,
for I am with you to deliver you,'
says the Lord.

Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me,
'Now I have put my words in your mouth.
See today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms,
to pluck up and pull down,
to destroy and to overthrow,
to build and to plant.'"

How many times in your life have you felt frightened, weak and unprepared for the challenges that lay ahead of you in life? Maybe I should ask how many times a day?

All through the scriptures, people express disbelief that God would call them to do something in this world when obviously they are not up to the task for various reasons. For Jeremiah, it was his immaturity, his insignificance. But God can be pushy and says, "You shall go to all whom I send you and speak whatever I command you." Jeremiah is not going to get away.

Joseph Brodsky, a Russian-American writer said, "Passion is the privilege of the insignificance."

In what ways do you feel small now? How is the Spirit calling forth your passion from that insignificance?

Behind the scenes

I find it interesting in this first miracle recorded in John that very few people knew about it. He turns the water into wine and only Jesus' mother, some servants and the disciples are aware of it. The bride and groom don't know where the new wine comes from. The wedding coordinator doesn't know; he or she is astounded by the good wine being served last. Contrast this with, for instance, the feeding of the 5,000 or the healings that take place in crowded synagogues, where many people see them and broadcast them throughout the town.

The purpose in John seems to be that this is a bit of a private miracle intended for the benefit of Jesus' newly called disciples, that they might believe. Jesus starts by developing trust in that inner core of his ministry team.

When you work your miracles (obviously I use the term loosely to mean the use of your gifts), are you comfortable doing it quietly, behind the scenes, or do you prefer that people are aware of it and give you plenty of applause? For most of us, we certainly use our gifts for the glory of God, not to please others, but it sure helps to have some applause from time to time. I guess that's just human. Funny that Jesus, even when many people observed his miracles, often told them not to tell others. He didn't seem to want the acclaim. I guess that was Jesus being Jesus.

What to do when the wine gives out

John 2:1-11

Jesus and his disciples go to a wedding Jesus is imformed by his mother that the celebratory wine has run out. Jesus asks why he as a guest should be concerned with the wedding coordinator's lack of management skill. Mary seems to disregard this and tells the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them to do. Being the dutiful son, Jesus tells the servants to fill the jars with water, which they do. When the wedding coordinator tastes the water, he finds that it is a delicious wine and wonders why the best wine was served last. The party goes on!

What do you do when life loses its ability to enchant, when you go through your day just marking tasks off your list, without much sense of satisfaction or meaning? What do you do when you lose any sense of the mysterious holy in your life, when the wine gives out?

Conversation with a Scientist

When in school, I ran screaming from all science classes and tried to find the settled warmth of the humanites; it is just where I felt most comfortable and successful. But as a preacher who comes to biblical texts from a theological perspective, I have always wondered how scientists hear the Word of God, particularly when reading some of the great Old Testament poetry which uses images from the natural world. I have always wanted to take some sermon time to sit down with a scientist and reflect on scripture. Well, that's exactly what I'm going to do this Sunday.

Conway Leovy is retired professor emeritus of Atmospheric Science at the University of Washington. He and I are going to sit down during worship and share our reflections on Psalm 29, which you'll find on my previous blog post this week. It is a Psalm that praises the God who is present in the storm, a literal storm. The images are powerful and moving. I'm looking forward to hearing his impressions, since I imagine he knows a thing or two about storms. I'll also be asking the congregation for they're comments and questions. Should be enlightening.