Here’s just a sampling of the activities for kids at Messiah:

Sunday School
Vacation Bible School
Christmas Pageant

Here is just a sampling of the activities for adults:

Valentines Day Dinner
Messiah Dinner Groups
Christmas Charity Auction
Memorial Day Church Picnic
Adult Forum
Women’s Advent Tea (and Men’s Anti-tea)
Harvest Festival
Adult Choir
Praise Band and Choir

Here is just a sampling of the activities for teens:

Senior Youth Group — 1st and 3rd Sundays 11:30 – 2:00
Middle School Youth Group — 1st and 3rd Sundays 11:30 – 2:00
Hammonasset Youth Gathering, The Zone — Youth Retreats
Hampshire Hills Lock-in
Praise Band and Choir
Confirmation and Sunday School
Camp Calument — Lutheran summer camp

Lent 2C  02/28/10

All readings

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from our lord Jesus Christ.

Is it your belief that God controls all events and determines the process and outcome of everything that happens? Or are you of the opinion that God has an end in mind and adapts to the changes caused by us humans making the wrong decisions, following the wrong paths, and in general just gumming up the works? Perhaps you find yourself somewheres in between?

My personal outlook is that God is unchangingly changeable. And changeably unchangeable. By this I mean that God can be counted on to be God—whatever that entails—and that all roads, new and old, lead to God eventually. The bible says that God’s word does not return to him empty, but that it achieves the purpose for which he sent it out. God’s promises are sure and certain. But the ways in which his word achieves its purpose and the reactions of those touched by its power are free to be variable. Variable to the point at which God is re-acting to them, instead of merely reading along with the script while the predetermined action takes place.

That implies God is not all knowing, nor is God in complete control of the creation. Which is not a bad thing, unless you prefer that everything be controlled with puppet-like precision. But to the puppeteer, a puppet is only a thing to be manipulated (outside of Disney World). Living, breathing, interfering, disagreeing, I’d-rather-do-it-my-way, stubborn, selfish, but potentially well-behaved and God-loving little critters like us demand a different approach.

And so God is relational—there is give and take in his relationships. There is dialog—speaking and listening. Acting and reacting. God, adapting to our good choices and bad choices, continually makes the goal accessible by opening us to new possibilities in a life that is less linear then it is branch-like—with an infinite number of routes to the divine.

Now, maybe you couldn’t stand such a loosey-goosey God. Well, like I said a minute ago, even a loosey-goosey God has purpose. I never said God had no clue as to how the novel he’s writing was going to proceed and ultimately finish. God did know that, left alone, humans would mess with the world he created good. He knew he wanted a special relationship with the people of Israel. He knew there would be fits and starts along the way. And that he would send his Son in the ultimate show of related-ness, to experience and then destroy the power of death, to open up the floodgates of new possibilities for a life renewed.

This “purpose” of God, which played out in the past but effects our present and shapes our future as well, this purpose is known as “salvation history.” It is the story (told in the bible) of the relationship between God and people. And in it God basically says, “You are loved and forgiven. Come and be with me!” And we ignore, subvert, disregard, misread, selfishly and stupidly, the grace of God that flows down to us—even as we struggle and scheme on how to get up to God ourselves.

This disruption of the salvation history timeline is part of the human-divine relationship that God expects. It can be seen throughout the bible, and it shows up vividly in our readings for today.

First, in Genesis. God has promised Abram a son. But Abram is not a satisfied customer. The LORD comes to him in a vision, promising him a great reward and right away, Abram is complaining. “What about an heir, Lord? All I got is Eliezer (who is unknown to everyone), and a slave-born child (who only counts in a pinch). You haven’t given me an heir! And land—what about some land? An Aramean doesn’t want to wander all of his days, you know. What are you going to do about these things?” Abram is the kind of customer that, when he walks into the Goatskin Tent Emporium, the help just scatters.

But the LORD expects it from Abram, and doesn’t mind playing the role of complaint department. He takes Abram outside and shows him the stars—millions of them! “Count em if you can,” says the LORD, “your descendants will be just as numerous.” He didn’t have to say the obvious—if I can make solar systems and black holes and supernovas—then I guess you can trust me to knit together some progeny for you, Abram. Abram concedes the point, and the LORD gives him credit for that.

But what about the land? Abram wants some assurance that the LORD will deliver the land. “I guess the whole thing with the stars and the descendants wasn’t impressive enough when it comes to real estate,” thinks the LORD. “But I know—a covenant—a pinkie sweared, blood brothered, spit sealed promise of the if-then typology. If you’ll do this, then I’ll do that. A covenant. Yeah, that’s the ticket!”

“Better make it sound official, not too easy, something with lots of blood.” “Bring me a heifer, aaaa goat – a female goat, and aaa, a ram, yes a ram—all…three years old. And what the heck bring me some birds too—a turtledove and a pigeon—not too old for the pigeon—a young one. Now here’s the thing—you gotta cut them in half and arrange them just so.” (Let’s see him do all that!)

But Abram got the heifer and the goat and the other animals. And he cut all but the birds in half. And he waited. Shooed away the vultures. Then a “deep sleep fell upon him.”  The last time the LORD used that one, woman was created! And a terrifying darkness came over him.

The LORD, who always loved a good fire,  had a smoking fire pot and burning torch pass between the butchered animals. Why? Who knows, except for the LORD and Abram? But that was good as a John Hancock. It sealed the deal. (Oh, by the way, did you catch the part about this being four hundred years from now? It was in the verses we left out!) “Gotta read that fine print,” says the LORD.

Abram will no doubt be writing to the CEO.

Human beings like control, they like assurances. They want it in writing—or blood. God refuses to be put in such a box. But God does relent and make a covenant with humankind—the relational equivalent of  a contract. Through it, God enters into relationship with us, and all that is asked in return is that we have faith in God to do that. And yet, over and over, human beings lose that faith and try to take things into their own hands. Gumming up the works. Like in Paul’s experience with the Philippians.

Poor Paul. After all the time he spent and trouble he went to to establish these churches, it always seemed like he had only just cleared the city limits when some interloper was trying to sway their affections and pollute their understanding of the gospel. Enemies of the cross, he calls them here in Philippians.

And his warning and advice to the church is to “stand firm in the Lord, imitate me (Paul) if you have to imitate anyone besides Christ Jesus. I’m no superman. But I know Christ.”

“Don’t let these charlatans who promote dietary laws, circumcision, and the bodily restrictions as a way to get to heaven. You are already citizens of heaven. And when Jesus returns—he won’t be looking to see if you’ve eaten bacon. The cross of Christ fulfilled the law, and  he will transform your body from sinful to glorious because you have faith. Hold onto that faith.”

God’s purposes were in good hands with Paul. In his preaching and teaching, and for us—in his correspondence—Paul proclaims God’s burning desire for relationship with everyone. And Paul’s ministry, in its constant adaptation to the diverse context in which he operated, reflects a God who is open and adaptable as well. Even as his letters reveal the presence of those who would alter the grace of God, preaching the law without the gospel. And thereby effectively short-circuiting salvation history.

People are always getting in the way of salvation history. And not just the villains—the heroes too! Abram gave his wife away to not one but two foreign kings—risking the end of the Yahweh-chosen genetic line for the Sarah-Abraham’s. Pharaoh gets all wishy washy about letting the Israelites go. The good king David turns out to be less than perfect.  Prophets hide and give up rather than give the tough love to Israel. Even after the Jesus event, Paul’s churches were plagued by those who would divert them from the true gospel. Every step of the way it seems there is someone or some ones who, if left alone, would throw the proverbial monkey wrench into the cogs of the great plan of God.

In our gospel passage, it appears that the Pharisees are ones with sabotage on their minds. As the story opens, the Pharisees are annoying Jesus again. No surprise? Well, yes surprise, because they appear to be trying to help Jesus by warning him to clear out of Herod’s neighborhood. They appear to be genuinely concerned for Jesus’ welfare.

But their motives are unclear—hidden. I wouldn’t friend them on Facebook just yet. Whatever their inspiration, these Pharisees are putting themselves in between Jesus and the successful completion of his mission (the culmination of salvation history). Not gonna work.

Jesus tells them to let Herod, the old fox  that he is (that’s not as in crazy like a fox, sly as a fox, or foxy—but the kind of varmint that destroys all the eggs in the hen house just because he can.. That’s the kind of fox Herod is), Jesus says you tell Herod I’ll be here till closing time. And closing time is when all the work is complete. After which you can find me on the road to Jerusalem.

Because what started in Jerusalem, ends in Jerusalem. The story of Jesus began with angel silencing Zechariah, the soon to be father of John the Baptist. And where does it end? With the cross? In Jerusalem. It’s the home of kings and site of the temple, but when it comes to disrupting the salvation-history timeline, Jerusalem stands out, especially in the “kill the messenger” division.

You’d think that Jesus would have a certain distaste for the people that “Jerusalem” symbolize. But no, Jesus loves them and wants to gather them up – not like Herod the fox, but like the mother hen who holds the chicks under her wing. Unfortunately, these willful little peeps are dead set on screwing up the plan by protecting themselves.   But Jesus is willing to wait, and holds out the same hope God always offers. If you’ll be my people—I will be your God.

He offers that to us. A new covenant. Not for heirs, as we are the heirs. Not for land, for wherever two or three gather in his name there Jesus is also. For forgiveness. For redemption. For transformation. For suffering along with us even as he ends the suffering in the world. For love. So stand firm, believer.

I think even Abram would not complain about that.

Lent 1 C  02/21/10

Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

Isn’t it a strange little gospel story this morning? Jesus and the devil—face to face, toe to toe, mano a mano—like Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader—squared off against each other. The devil whipping scripture daggers at Jesus, and Jesus brushing them aside with some zingers of his own. Strange story! Reads more like Stephen King the horror writer than Luke the physician and gospel writer.

It reminds me of the legend of blues great Robert Johnson. And how he was tempted by fame, fortune and women to sell his soul to the devil down at the crossroads. All for the flashing fingers and soulless singing voice of a blues guitarist. Must have sounded like a good deal at the time. But Johnson was dead at age 27, poisoned by a juke joint owner who suspected Johnson of having a dalliance with his wife. Not such a good deal after all.

I wonder how the devil’s offer might have sounded to Jesus, out there in the wilderness. Especially after forty days without a shower, sleeping on the ground, and no food! I mean—he was in a weakened condition, susceptible to temptation. Especially when the devil’s deal didn’t sound that unreasonable. It maybe wasn’t even half-bad.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure Jesus was well aware of the devil’s terms—that Jesus join the dark side and worship him. But what the devil was offering in return—that was tempting, particularly for Jesus, the Son of God. Because, while on the outside, the stones into bread, the temple pinnacle bungee jump, and the world dominion tour seem totally selfish and bad—there’s a positive spin that could be placed upon each one. A spin that would make taking the devil’s deal almost noble.

Take for instance your bread. Now—I’ve seen “stoned wheat bread” in the market. Not quite sure what it is. Must be they’re adding pebbles to the nuts and twigs that are already in the bread that’s good for you. Maybe it adds minerals. Anyway, the devil wasn’t tempting Jesus with stoned wheat bread. He was tempting him to turn stones into bread to quiet his grumbly tumbly. That would be nice, some bread—possibly a bagel or English muffin, nothing as pretentious as a scone. But, despite the forty day fast, Jesus has the willpower to pass on the instant breakfast for himself. The implications of using stones to make bread are farther reaching however.

Jesus, being Jesus, had to have had this thought pass through his mind. If I can make stones into bread to satiate my own hunger—well, there’s plenty of stones around here and lots of hungry people. But not enough bread. Wouldn’t it be far better if there was a shortage of stones, rather than a shortage of bread? That’s the implication of the devil’s temptation—that Jesus could end world hunger with a word. Tempting indeed!

And how about this thing, this world dominion? Would it be so bad, really, if Jesus was president of the United States, and Prime Minister of Canada, and Sultan of Dubai, and King of Denmark, and so on and so forth. Jesus in charge of the whole world!  Where’s the down side of that political strategy? World peace. Sharing of resources. An end to those pesky political primary ads on TV. Sounds good to me. Did it tempt Jesus? I have no doubt. Perhaps the desire for personal power and prestige he rejected immediately—but for the opportunity to unify the world and make things right again—that, that was tempting for Jesus. Very tempting!

And last but not least—doing an intentional header off the pinnacle of the temple. Top of the head it would be a great way to see if God was awake and really cared. Jesus didn’t need that kind of assurance. But it would sure prove a point. That being he was the Son of God. So what if it put God to the test? I don’t think even one person here would mind knowing for an absolute fact—with spectacular visual display—that God is in present and accounted for and in control to the point of protecting everyone from harm. That would boost Jesus’ and God’s approval rating through the roof! Pretty tempting!

So this strange little story has two layers really. On one level, Jesus is personally tempted by the devil as a man—a human being. He’s tempted to use power inappropriately for personal gain (stones to bread). He’s tempted to gain total earthly power and universal acceptance. And he’s tempted to test God’s love for him. Three temptations handily brushed aside by even a starving, thirsty, sunburned, and, dare we say, a fairly ripe Jesus Christ.

But on a whole other level, the Son of God is tempted three times to act counter to the way God works. By feeding the hungry, ending governmental vices, and proving beyond any doubt that he is the one, and that God loves everyone. Another three temptations—these ones I’m sure were harder to deflect. But Jesus did. Must have been hard though, otherwise they wouldn’t have recurred at those “opportune” times chosen by his nemesis, el Diablo.

Opportune times—like when on the crowds gathered to hear him speak were hungry but had little food. How hard it must have been for Jesus not to just pick up some rocks and not stop making them into bread until all the empire was fed. Opportune times like when the crowds tried to make him king. Times like when the voice from heaven roared, “This is my Son, the beloved – listen to him!” Temptation always crops up at opportune times. Jesus may have wavered, but he never gave into temptation.

But we do.

We are tempted to expect God to miraculously feed the world. And the sorry thing is, God already has. Not from stones but from nothing—God created food for all. It is our sin that keeps it from its intended mouths. Same with water, and all the staples of life—God provides, we squander, destroy and hoard.

On the other hand, God works to care for his creation in ways that are not readily understandable by humanity. For example, the freedom that we enjoy as creatures extends into areas we would rather it did not—we are free to love and obey God, but also to act upon our selfish inclinations.

We are tempted by absolute power and the idea of a God centered world order. When in reality God is already working in the world through governments, and the social order. Luther called this activity of God in the world God’s left hand. Again God works in ways that are indecipherable to humankind. The temptation to avoid here is to think that only if Jesus were at the head of government for every nation—only then can there be a peaceful world. We underestimate God and lose trust in him when that temptation wins over us.

Jesus told the devil, “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test,” and he refused to. He would not jump off the pinnacle of the temple, to see if God would catch him—to prove that he was who he said he was. We are sorely tempted, if not by the latter, then most certainly by the former.

We don’t go jumping off of buildings to see if God loves us. We’re not fanatics! But we do other things to  try and force God’s hand.  And we do draw the line in the sand when it comes to God’s care for us. We say, “God, if you really love me and if you are the Son of God, then you can cure my mother who has cancer, find me a job right away, give me good grades, make my wife love me again…” You fill in the blank.

The trouble with this temptation is that you’re left with a crisis of faith if it doesn’t go your way. Because we know God loves us and cares for us—we believe that. But then what do you say when things fall apart? God was on a day off?

No. Do not put the Lord your God to the test. It’s not that God just doesn’t test well. It’s that our tests not only reveal our lack of faith, which is major—but they also can’t be applied to God. It would be like testing the strength of iron bars by hitting them with a feather, or testing a marigold for chicken pox.

In fact there’s only one test that does apply—the Jesus test. It works like this. In any situation, any, where you are tempted to question God’s plan for you, care for you, forgiveness of you: instead remind yourself of one thing, “Jesus.” What you can say about Jesus, you can say about God. So what is God like—like Jesus. Does God forgive me—Jesus did on the cross. Does God care about my aunt who’s dying? Jesus cured and had compassion for the sick—but he didn’t heal them all. Jesus. Jesus is the reagent in the test for God.

Jesus withstood the devil’s temptations. We aren’t that strong. We succumb to them often and regularly. Not that we don’t resist marvelously sometimes (with God’s help). But we’re tempted by misunderstandings of God, and we fall prey to them at times of weakness. But that’s not the end of the world, or of our souls.

Because down at the crossroads, where the divine and human intersect, Jesus passed on the devil’s deals and went on with his mission of grace and mercy. And in the end, it was the devil who lost out, and Jesus who got our souls. AMEN

Worship Assistant Schedule

Epiphany 4C  01/31/10

Jeremiah 1:4-10, Luke 4:21-30

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and creator, and from his Christ—our Lord and redeemer, the Son and savior, Jesus.

It’s very close now. Can you feel it? That apex of television programming, that purported pinnacle of Nielsen ratings, that purveyor of pricey pre and post show propaganda, that pied piper of people pressing together to perceive two groups pitted against each other, that display of piquant pride of past performers featured once more, the precocious pleas of present players plaintively pleading to popularize their part in the big party. Ahhh! We’ll tune in the tube (or energize the flat panel) gather enough snacks and drinks to stock a small, island nation, then kick back in the old recliner and watch… [the Super Bowl]

No, not the Super bowl! LOST. That’s right—all the world sits in thrall of the beginning of the final season of the tv drama, Lost. To answer questions like, “What was that polar bear doing there on the island in the first episode?” and “Does the island really have healing power and the power to move around in time and space?” and “Will there be  spinoffs—in the same vein as CSI and Law and Order? For example, will there be a “Hurley and Kate plus Eight (extras),” or The Real Housewives of the Dharma Initiative, or (my personal fave) FOUND.

Yes, finally we’ll know the significance of the number string that made Hurley a lottery winner and saves the island from periodic destruction. And finally we’ll discover what’s the story behind the group of people who both those in the initiative and  from the plane as well, call “The Others.” Those scary, hostile, feared, but at the same time, generally unknown group, whose shadowy existence baffles both established groups. To them they are “others,” not part of the group, or any group, people whose main characteristic is that they are not “us.” I hope that relationship is transformed at season’s finale. I’d like to see how they become something other than other to each other.

I’m hoping it will teach all of us church-goers something. Because we got some “others” around here. And Jesus wants us to get to know them. In fact, he’s not beyond tweaking your conscience or reordering your world, or even offending you in order to get his point across. And that point isn’t about sitting comfortably in the Father’s house, listening to God’s word. The point is being out there, living it. Because, and I’m going to be provocative now—because this building, its programs, and the gospel message they serve aren’t for us—they’re for the others.

Our whole mission is, as author and pastor of Community Church of Joy in Glendale AZ Walter Kallestadwrites, “building a community for others.” Everything for the others, all our hard work and financial support, all for the benefit of those others. All for the others. A plot twist which would definitely upset Jack and Sawyer. One that challenges our conceptions of ownership of “our” building, our activities, our equipment, our liturgy, our sacraments. This place is not primarily for us to enjoy and hide out from the world in. It is for others.

It is a concept that was tough right from the word go, we can see this in the reaction to Jesus little sermon at his home synagogue in Nazareth. It starts out with Jesus’ friends and neighbors and family being supportive enough—Jesus is, after all, their homey. Little Jesus bar Joseph. They’ve been in the synagogue with him on countless occasions. So, as always, they compliment his reading of the scroll, and nod their heads in blissful ignorance of the import of his tag line, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your presence.”

It’s not until Jesus starts breaking open that Isaiah text, relating it to two other stories—stories that shine a light on God’s preferential treatment of the widow of Zarephath and Naaman, the Syrian general, both foreigners—it’s not until Jesus begins highlighting a passed-by Israel, a missing pat on the back for them, that they change their tune.

“Punk! Who does he think he is, preaching that God loves and includes those others? Doesn’t he know we are the elect, the inner circle, the frozen chosen? Where does he get off handing the keys of the kingdom to them?” They are offended.

As are we, when Jesus turns the church outside in—making it a welcome center for the others who are gathered by us, as we live the church inside out. These are others whom God wants, but we don’t—unless they come on our terms and conditions. Leave your shoes and your sins at the door, please. You can come in, but God help you if you sit in one of our seats, or have the scent of controversy upon you. Then watch out, we’ll ignore you to death—or at least until you take the hint and leave.

For Jesus, grace is for everyone, but it shows its face plainly where it is needed most. Its distribution is not a parlor game (Jesus called it: “Doctor, cure yourself!” Hey sonny, do one of those healings you do for  Uncle Ishmael – he was in the bathroom). It’s serious spiritual triage. Later in Luke Jesus says “I came to help those who are in need of a doctor. Those who aren’t sick can wait.” Again, that style of universal health care is offensive.

So offensive that the people of Nazareth make like they’re going to toss Jesus off the local cliff. We’re apt to “shoot the messenger” too. Be it the pastor who walks the thin lines of personal conviction, popular culture, and grace in place (that’s my new catchy phrase to describe the contextual practicality of the gospel message—and God’s willingness to adapt the path to the means of grace). Or perhaps the one we’re fixing to toss is the Synod, or ELCA, or the various gatherings and assemblies thereof  with which we disagree. The question is, will the controversy over the others subside and dissipate into a non-issue, as did the dust up at Nazareth that Sabbath so long ago?

The issue of same gendered relationships has highlighted one group of “outsiders.” And despite my discomfort and ambiguous feelings about the issue, I want to tell you about someone I know. Someone who struggles with this issue from within and without. One whose life was altered by the reactions to it. One who drifts on the edges of the church – not sure he has a place within its walls, despite his great faith and affection for God’s holy word. He is “other.”

I knew him from my days in outdoor ministry, and he was a pleasantly strange youngster who was polite and yet unique. He loved playing the trumpet and Louie Armstrong was his hero. He valued God and family above all else, and was well versed in the bible and Lutheran history. His dream was to be a Lutheran pastor. I thought that was exactly what he would do.

The, during his college years he came out to me and to his friends and family.  And, while that might have been a relief for some in his position, for him it was disastrous. His father disowned him. His mother was forbidden to see him. He was thrown out of his home. He dropped out of college which he could no longer afford. He lost his job. And while he kept going to church, he no longer felt totally welcome there. He had somehow gone from one sitting on the inside looking out, to an outcast trapped between who he was and who he wished he could still be. He was other.

But he never lost his faith in the God who claimed him as His beloved at baptism. Despite all, he could still feel God’s love active in him—not rejection, but invitation. His favorite psalm, 27, summed it up for him. “The Lord is my light and my salvation, of whom shall I be afraid? …If my father and mother forsake me, the lord will take me up. …I believe I shall see the goodness of the lord in the land of the living..be strong, let your heart take courage—wait for the lord.”

His patience is greater than mine. He’s still waiting for this world to set aside his otherness and to accept him as saint and sinner, fallen child of a loving and forgiving God, who sent aid to a foreign woman (other) and healing to a commander of an army of one of Israel’s threatening most neighbors (definitely other), and who sent his son so that others may believe in him and become worthy of God’s love.

My friend is one of the others. I hope someday he won’t be. Until that time, despite the fact that it may offend some of you, I will be his friend, his pastor, and I will pray for the day when we can come to the Lord’s table together—neither outsider or insider, but sinners in the arms of a forgiving God. Realizing that other is a terminology that God holds dear, and yet works hard to make extinct. May we as a congregation of differing thoughts concerning these others, welcome them to this place still in the name of the Lord and in love. For the greatest of these is love.    AMEN