Dear Family in Faith,

Here’s my disclaimer: *following Jesus* is hard.  And, it doesn’t always work like we expect!  So, to help us remember our call to “follow Jesus”, in the last few years we’ve distributed Epiphany star-words in worship to celebrate Epiphany, Jesus’ baptism AND help shine light our calling.  […Do you know where your star-words are?] 

In past years, I’ve asked our DCE, Susan, to help curate a list of words, used in other churches, so we could have some tried and vetted words to work from.  But this year, I thought “if the point was offering illumination to “follow Jesus,” maybe starting with the words Jesus uses to tell followers and believers …is the way to go.  So, our star-words this year came straight from Luke’s gospel, chapters five and six—all words and phrases we’ve heard before …but bluntly pointed as only Jesus can.  So, maybe harder.  Last year, I got “rest.”  This year?  My star-words are—“Give to everyone who begs of you.” 

I confess, when I took my star-words from the baptismal font a few weeks ago in worship, I had peeked first.  I knew the content of the top card, before I took it—and it burdened me, even before I picked it up.  I didn’t like like the challenge; furthermore, I didn’t want it!  Like Jesus praying in the garden for any way for the cup to pass him, I really wanted to have reached into the stack and taken another card.  These star-words feel like my own cross …laid on my shoulders and leading me to my own Golgotha!  In my head, I immediately began throwing up my list of other “hard things” I would much-prefer spending my time with …praying for my enemies, being good to those who hate me, giving away possessions—that I also, already, was conveniently avoiding, careful to ensure that they can’t benefit from too much of my attention!  I’m not dissing Jesus’ words, or his desire we follow; it’s just …you know …they’re hard. 

“Give to everyone who begs of you.”  …Already bristling, I resisted even more.  I don’t even like people having to beg.  I wish the that people who have need—(whatever it is)—could just “ask for it,” and have it; as Jesus says, “ask, and you shall receive.”  I believe the works of Jesus change lives; they shouldn’t reinforce a system of neediness that requires ongoing maintenance.  Even if Jesus says, “the poor will always be with you,”  I think we’re smart enough to fix it!  As Desmond Tutu gets credited with saying, “Eventually you have to stop pulling people out of the river to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.”  We can do this—create a world order that solves begging!  …But in the face of someone immediately in need of a warm place and a meal?  …awaiting what may never be, isn’t of Jesus. 

I have a friend who also tries to *follow Jesus*, formed by a summer camp experience where he ended up giving away the camp-store—because he just KNEW Jesus wanted every camper to have ice cream—even as they couldn’t afford it!  …I confess, I believe fervently that Jesus wants everyone to have what they need and to be relieved of their sufferings.  Yet, most of the time, despite my believing, I’m disciplined and often resigned to just saying “No.”  It’s difficult and messy wading through the testimonies people seem trained to offer, as if burdening those whom they ask, with a story, is what releases our grasp on the money being sought rather than any help we might give.  I nearly always practice the direct opposite of the star-word guide I’ve received as a burden.  You can call me, “Scrooge.”  I feel I’m saying, “Bah Humbug, Jesus!”  But such “no’s” save entanglements.  Plus, I know FPC assists with many needs. 

…but last Sunday, a man came in before worship; he claimed being a child at FPC in his youth; he’d returned to El Dorado to bury a last living relative, and his truck’s rear axle blew up, destroying the engine (…of course, right outside the cemetery on Champagnolle Road, just after the burial, and when he walked to get help, someone came along and took his suitcases he’d left unprotected in the pickup bed).  He claimed living in Bardstown, KY and his church, where he claimed he was on the Board of Deacons, had a fund to help travelers.  He didn’t want to ask, but he’d already spent two nights in the cold and couldn’t bear another.  …some money was to arrive “general delivery” for him on Monday …he planned to rent a truck at Enterprise to drive home (even if they had to bring one from Magnolia if one wasn’t available here), but not before repaying my generosity.  I never expected to see him again …but shortly after driving him to a motel, paying for his room, and making sure he had food, he reportedly and inexplicably fled.  I confess, I’m only a little embarrassed.  I do, almost always, say, “No;” but the truth is, I also can’t account for what happened to the underwear and nightgown I gave to a woman who’d called, saying she’d lost all her clothes and was having hip surgery and needed them (…who asks for underwear they don’t really need?).  …*Following Jesus* isn’t for the faint of heart. 

…My star-words hang right near my desk still, these days, reminding me of Jesus’ invitation.  I don’t think I’m effective doing them; but I admit, my star-words no longer feel like a cross.  I’ll try getting them right.  Somedays, I’m sure, its got to work out.  Somedays, the star-words might even help; though most often, they’ll still be a challenge.  Thank you, Jesus.  I’m trying to follow.  

 Dear Family in Faith,

This Sunday’s gospel reading begins with this:

“Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country.”  (Luke 4: 14)

Luke doesn’t share the contents of that report; but it will become clearer that at least part of that report could have included healings, helpings, and feedings for people in Capernaum—which he will not do for the people of Nazareth.  But only three chapters later, there are plenty of these “reports,” and Luke summarizes Jesus’ ministry for John the Baptist:

“Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them.”  (Luke 7:22)

Everywhere that Jesus is, these things are true.  This is our faith—what we believe about God’s work in the world. 

Last week, I became distressed hearing the president of ACHI (the Arkansas Center for Health Improvement) report the ACHI’s board was recommending, “persons 65 and older, families with unvaccinated children, and anyone with cancer, diabetes, lung disease, or heart disease should ‘shelter in place;’ and that (at the time) 175 Arkansass had died of COVID infections in the first ten days of the this new year. 

I let the recommendations sink in for a moment.  …I’m pretty certain with one or two exceptions, those categories cover nearly everyone coming to worship in-person these days, including staff, including myself.  With all the news reports of the Omicron variant circulating so easily among vaccinated and unvaccinated populations, it’s been easier to lose sight of the fact that people are still dying!  And I’ve found myself struggling again with the idea that someone among our fellowship might die, having been exposed to COVID at Church. 

It bothers me even more, that our sense of what needs to “go on” or “continue” or “be normal again” continues to put our heartfelt desires at the expense of those who are dying as a result.  When Governor Hutchinson meant to dismiss ACHI’s recommendations by responding that Arkansans, “…can’t stop living,” I couldn’t help but think that since the pandemic began, nearly a million Americans, including nearly ten-thousand Arkansans have done just that—stopped living—as a result of COVID-19 

The pandemic has surely cast a pall over nearly everything in our lives.  It’s not enough that the disease is literally killing us—so many of us; the havoc that’s been wreaked in our day-to-day lives adds up, too.  It’s easy to blame COVID for what we see as “problems” in our way of life now—including attending Church or having familiar in-person Church activities.  The recent spike in cases-counts, positivity rates, and deaths, forced a new round of cancellations of activities and events—including some churches in town choosing not to have in-person worship, and our Presbytery and Synod transitioning planned, in-person meetings we had been anticipating for months, because both daily life and travel are precariously and unpredictably affected. 

This “death” is seemingly all around us.  Yet WE believe, everywhere Jesus is: The blind see.  The lame walk.  The lepers are healed.  The dead are raised. 

Over and over, the stories of our faith remind us—demand of us to have faith—that God somehow intervenes, that death isn’t the last word, that we need not be afraid.  Yes, we all die; we do not simply live forever—untransformed.  Neither we as human beings, nor the collective “we” of our fellowships and institutions.  As long as we’re living, we’re also dying.  But we believe Jesus is among us, transforming us …but that’s not a “get out of death, free” card.  It’s an invitation to be transformed.  This isn’t to suggest in any way that COVID is God’s agent to get us to be more faithful, or die.  No.  This is to say we believe in a God of resurrections.  That even though we die, we will live again.  Our chief end isn’t simply to survive, or exist; but to become what God would have us become.  …Like Jesus, who is baptized, tempted, then starts ministering.  Like fishers dropping their nets to follow Jesus.  Like Jesus, who touches the sick and the dead because he knows death isn’t binding  Like a congregation, continuing to do ministry, like Jesus, come what may, to infinity and beyond.  Death comes for us all; but so does resurrection. 

Maybe it’s easier to think that everything is dying, that we have lost, that the good news has escaped us.  …But we believe God transform s us; indeed, the dead are raised.  None of us knows what tomorrow brings.  Rather, we believe in the midst of everything going on around us, though: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the dead are raised.  Blessed be!  Blessed be!  

 Dear Family in Faith,

Last Sunday we celebrated the Baptism of the Lord.  The annual observance, which follows Epiphany, has always been special to me in adulthood, because it’s a wonderful occasion to celebrate the reaffirmation of our baptismal vows.  Presbyterians practice infant baptism—which means that many of us were baptized as infants, and may not remember our baptisms.  So, reaffirming our baptismal promises allows us to give full voice to those vows.  When infants or children are baptized, the parents and congregation give voice to the baptismal promises—which is part of why confirmation becomes important—because that’s when we confirm the promises once made on our behalf. 

Sometimes, baptism can seem like a personal, private moment.  In fact, many congregations practice the sacrament of baptism in small groups, for just the family, where children are not bothersome to a service of worship, and the baptism gets recorded but not many people “see it” as it happens.  I once went to church where a baptism was announced before worship, as if it were being celebrated, but where no one saw the family, the child, or heard the vows. 

But baptism is not some rite of passage. 

Matthew Skinner writes about Luke’s story of Jesus’ baptism that,

“…we should see Jesus’ baptism as his declaration of a revolutionary commitment to God’s plan and to the well-being of God’s people.  It signals the willingness to be a part—the crucial part—of the new order God has pledged to enact and God begins to enact in Jesus’ public ministry.” 

I would venture to guess that when you hear the word, “baptism,” you’re not thinking or imagining an act of “revolution.” 

The water of baptism is placed upon us as a sign of God’s “revolutionary commitment” to the well-being of God’s people.  And I like to remind people that this is a sign and reminder to us all that we belong to God.  And God fitting us and the world for righteousness.  And when we’re responding in the affirmative to those promises, either in confirming or reaffirming the baptismal vows or professing them on the part of infants and children—we’re committing ourselves to God’s revolutionary plan that means to turn the world upside down and inside out! 

We practice infant baptism because we know that life is uncertain.  In the first century, infant mortality rates were staggeringly high; and baptism was viewed as a requirement for salvation.  Frankly, church leaders didn’t have a good answer for grieving parents, so baptism was moved from the end of life to the very beginning of life.  Baptism is the sign or “mark” that we belong to God—something that can’t be taken away from us no matter what trouble we might find, whether by our own cause, or not.  In the story of the Prodigal, for example, despite dissolute living, the younger son finds his way home, again.  When we baptize our children, we have God’s assurance of protection for them. 

Somehow, saying those words, out loud, together—makes them a kind of “performative language.”  By them, we make our own declaration of a revolutionary commitment to God’s plans and to the well-being of  God’s people.  It means we should hear our names as people with whom God is well-pleased!  It’s why we should understand our lives having been converted to God’s revolutionary causes.  It’s why we should see and recognize one another among the saints of God, working at transformation marked by forgiven sins and the reality of sharing together with God’s own self through the Holy Spirit.  That, we too, have become a part of the human flourishing and divine compassion the Bible sets forth and promises, and that we are the evidence that God means business! 

In ancient Israelite religious practice, baptism—or ritual cleansing—marked a turning point from an old life to a new one.  Like “new year’s resolutions,” it often accompanied one’s intention to “change” habits, practices, traditions, and served notice to others of a new identity.  In this week’s gospel lesson, Jesus transforms the vessels for “ritual purification” for a wedding feast into the vessels for wine for the wedding party!  Whether they knew it or not, the guests receiving the “best wine” are drinking to a new identity inspired by God and delivered by the Holy Spirit!  A radical transformation for the guests and the staff, and those who follow Jesus! 

REMEMBER: We are people called to be LIGHT and LIFE and LOVE—testifying to hope born anew and that joy is coming.  However forgetful we become, God remembers.  However weary we are, God does not grow tired.  However things seem to be falling apart around us, God is still creating.  The whole point of Jesus being born and doing the things he does, can be summed up in, “love one another.”  God’s revolutionary commitment is the well-being of God’s people.  Our c ommitment in baptism should be the same.  

Light

 Dear Family in Faith,

This week’s picture in the upper right-hand corner comes to us from First Presbyterian Church, Boise, Idaho.  The sanctuary there is adorned mostly with stained glass windows that are red and blue hues, except for one, that happens to provide the “light” to illumine the manger …when the sun is in the right place, at the right time—and only for a few fleeting moments.  My friend Andrew serves as pastor there—and wrote this week about his returning to work after the Christmas and New Year’s holidays: 

There are many ways I’m feeling the bleakness. Directly or through shared pain…. Uncaring neighborhoods. Raging pandemic. All too many deaths of friends and congregation members and family. Challenging diagnosis. Lack of resolve to remove toxic patterns. The cold wet mud sucking reality that this is a hard world. 

This image is holding my center however. Shared to me by a friend and coworker, this happened late afternoon today. The manger is still on our chancel for Christmastide before it gets replaced by the baptismal font for the Baptism of Jesus Sunday this weekend. And it’s being bathed in the yellow glow of one of our stained glass windows. But it’s not just any window. All the windows on that side are red and blue.. except one. One bright window of whites and yellows on a wall of deep reds and blues. That window? It’s the “I am the Resurrection” window. That’s right …like the star in the sky for the magi of old that light is shining into the bleakness to remind me that hope is born anew, and joy comes with the morning. 

Like Andrew, I returned to work this week too.  In addition to knowing about surgeries and medical treatments, family setbacks, and stressful situations, I was caught up by at least a dozen Facebook posts by church friends across the country, announcing to the world that they had tested positive for COVID despite having been vaccinated and boosted; all to add to a growing collection of heart-wrenching stories of people I know suffering from post-COVID complications and conditions.  At a board meeting, the board President reminded us that he, too, had contracted COVID, in spite of two vaccines, the booster, wearing a mask in public, and social distancing—and was clueless about where or how he became infected. There are COVID cases among our Church members, again, over the holidays.  …Frankly, “In the Bleak Midwinter” seems to more appropriately describe these daily realities. 

I know that all of us are tired of hearing the news about the pandemic—just as we’ve arrived at the height of it!  Yet despite all the reasons some people offer for us to be or feel afraid, I’m stubbornly trying to cling to the hope of the good news that the angels announced to the Shepherds at Jesus’ birth—“do not be afraid!”  Jesus hasn’t stopped being the LIGHT the World!  This is STILL God’s GOOD creation.  Even so, I know that what we all wanted for Christmas was an end to the pandemic wreaking havoc on our daily lives and our ability to move freely in others’ company indoors and outdoors, on planes or trains, in homes and especially at Church!  I know all of us are tired and exhausted and desperately want to move on. 

In such bleakness, it’s easy to turn to the fatalism of, “whatever will be, will be”—or, “if I get it, I get it”—or, worse, “if I get it, it must be God’s will” …simply because it offers a kind of prophetic certainty that we are victims of circumstances we can’t control.  Instead of giving in, or giving up—our faith insists that God loves each of us and calls all of us to life, in abundance.  This last weekend while I was away, I heard a sermon in which a Catholic Priest encouraged his congregation to resist the “covid-isms” we’ve come to live with, like mask and vaccine mandates, because they are Satan’s tools meant only to ruin believers’ souls.  He refused to acknowledge that the Christian gospels testify to Jesus teaching over and over to defend the weak, help the suffering, and our serving others’ needs before our own—including healing the sick, feeding the hungry, comforting the afeared, AND calling us to “follow him.” 

I’ve said this before.  The hardest parts of COVID …may be yet to come.  I still believe following Jesus includes defending, helping, and serving others—like Jesus does; and doing what we can to continue to try and stop the spread of this disease!  It’s exhausting work …calling for more sacrifice, demanding more of our attention, forcing us into behaviors we want to resist yet insists instead that we focus on our neighbors’ wholeness and needs rather than our own.  Because that’s what Jesus did …and this is clearly who Jesus is when he declares that LOVE is laying down our lives for our friends. 

We should not be afraid.  We walk in faith knowing that the one who has come—is coming again; so that we can defy anyone or anything that brings oppression, pain, death, or destruction.  This disease is insidious; we don’t want it to control our ability to love one another.  If you can, get a vaccine—both doses; and a booster dose.  Wear a well-fitting, high-quality mask indoors.  Practice physical distancing and good hygiene.  Be kind to others—in bleakness, all of us need that. 

REMEMBER: We are people called to be LIGHT and LIFE and LOVE; following a star, testifying to hope born anew and that joy is coming.  However forgetful we become, God remembers.  However weary we are, God does not grow tired. However things seem to be falling apart around us, God is still creating.  Our stories aren’t over.  Christmas isn’t just a birthday party; Jesus’ whole point, might be as simple as “love one another.”  In the bleak midwinter, something so simple has never been more important!