faith

Come as a Child

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Come as a Child” Mark 9:30-37

Perhaps the only positive outcome of the COVID-19 pandemic was a temporary decrease in the number of American children living in poverty. Federal economic security programs kept 53 million people above the poverty line in both 2020 and 2021. Child tax credits, increased food assistance, the extension of unemployment benefits, and three rounds of stimulus checks drove child poverty down to an all-time low of 5.2%. With the expiration of these programs in 2022, child poverty was again on the rise. According to the Annie E. Casie Foundation, 16% of American children now live in poverty. That’s 11.6 million kids. New York’s child poverty rates are among the worst in the nation. We rank forty-first out of the fifty states.

The likelihood of child poverty is higher here in the North Country. In Franklin County, 21.3% of our children live in poverty. Those numbers are higher for families of color. About 32% of racial ethnic children live below the federal poverty line. The impact of child poverty can last a lifetime. Impoverished families have less access to healthy food and quality medical care. A poverty diet is high in processed foods, fat, and carbohydrates. That’s a recipe for childhood obesity. Children in poverty are more likely to live in substandard housing, experience homelessness, and be exposed to crime and substance abuse in at-risk neighborhoods. Children in poverty have lower readiness when entering school and are more likely to have developmental challenges. Families in poverty live in chronic stress that leaves kids feeling anxious, depressed, and frightened.

When we further consider families who work in low wage jobs that lift them above the federal poverty threshold but don’t pay enough to meet monthly expenses, then we begin to see the enormity of the child poverty crisis. The Ouimette family of AuSable Forks is a case in point. William works for the town of Jay’s highway department and also serves as a volunteer firefighter. Miranda is a stay-at-home mom to their three kids between the ages of 6 and 9. William says, “It’s harder and harder for people just to get by on a job like working for the state or the town or anything now.” The Ouimettes struggle to pay for essential things like car repairs and new items for their kids. They fear they will be priced out of the home where their family has resided for generations.

Child poverty is nothing new. In Jesus’ day, 90% of people lived in poverty with little resource for rising above the circumstance of their birth. Within that impoverished time, children were particularly vulnerable. They were considered the lowest status members of society. Children lacked legal standing and protection as individuals and were instead deemed the property of their fathers. Indeed, children could be sold into slavery to settle a father’s debts. Although children were seen as a gift from God, a safeguard against extreme poverty in old age, children were expected to be unconditionally obedient and subject to the strict discipline of parents. The Book of Proverbs instructs, “Those who spare the rod hate their children, but those who love them are diligent to discipline them.” According to Exodus and Leviticus, the punishment for children who curse their parents or fail to honor them was death – judgment and stoning by the community. In the Gentile world, unwanted newborns were routinely exposed, left out in the open to die—or to be taken in by strangers and raised as slaves or prostitutes.

Given the low standing of children in the disciples’ world, we can imagine the shock that they felt when Jesus placed a child among them as someone to be welcomed and emulated. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus warned his friends of the suffering and death that would await him in Jerusalem. But along the way to Capernaum, instead of discussing better ways to protect Jesus and guard against betrayal, the twelve argued about who among them was the greatest. They compared genealogies and miracles, sermons and bank accounts, patrons and illustrious acquaintances, all in an effort to assert their personal worth. That child that Jesus held in his arms didn’t make any sense. Why would Jesus identify with a child? Why would he expect them to welcome and serve the lowest status person in the room?

Biblical scholar J.D.M. Derrett says that when Jesus scooped the little child up in his arms, Jesus was engaging in a symbolic act. In the Hebrew tradition, receiving or placing someone else’s child on your knee or in your embrace in front of the witnessing community was a rite of adoption.  We see this in the Book of Genesis, when the childless Sarah and Rebecca brought their servant women to their husbands to conceive children, insisting that those children would be born “on their knees” as rightful sons of the patriarchs. If J.D.M. Derrett is right, then Jesus was saying that the most vulnerable of people, like children, especially belong to Jesus. The disciples could not love and honor him without loving and honoring them.

Beyond that simple call to humble service, Jesus was reminding his friends, many of whom had left their families behind to follow him, that he had adopted them. They were his children. As his sons and daughters, they must demonstrate toward him the obedience, honor, and respect that they would a father. The disciples were meant to be brothers and sisters in Jesus’ family, not rivals for greatness. That tender embrace that the child found in Jesus’ arms reflected the love and support that the disciples found in Christ, who welcomed them, not because of their great achievements, but simply because he chose to love them, regardless of their status. In that unconditional love, they would find the courage and inspiration to be servants of all.

As messages go, today’s reading is clear. The “least of these” are deserving of the service and welcome that we would extend to the Lord. When we see vulnerable neighbors, we are to think of Jesus, responding with the sort of compassion and care that were the hallmark of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Beyond that, Jesus would have his followers see that in God’s Kingdom there is no us and them—no low-status children and high-status disciples. Rather, we are all God’s children. The social and psychological constructs that we create to assert our greatness—that separate rich from poor, have from have-nots, first world from third world—those constructs are false dichotomies. We are kin, all children of an infinitely loving God. We belong to one another, just as we belong to God.

If the pandemic taught us anything, it is that we can end childhood poverty. If we can lower the rate of childhood poverty to 5.2% in only two years, imagine what we could do if people really cared, if we had public policy that regarded vulnerable children the way that Jesus embraced that child. There is enough. We just lack the social and political will to make a lasting difference in the lives of families who need it most. We do not believe that every child is deserving of unconditional love and welcome. We pitch a paltry ten percent of our federal budget at programs that address poverty while income inequality in our nation—the gap between rich and poor—grows and grows and grows. Lord, have mercy upon us.

Jesus thinks his disciples can do better. We can do better. He imagines a world where no child lives in poverty. It’s a world where our most vulnerable neighbors are known and held, blessed and helped. It’s a world where disciples realize that true greatness is found not in our professional titles or advanced degrees, not in our big bank accounts or public accolades, not in our athletic prowess or our physical beauty. It’s a world where the greatest of all are servants of all. It’s a world that looks a lot like his Father’s Kingdom. He hopes that we will imagine that world, too. May it be so.

Resources

Danilo Trisi. “Government’s Pandemic Response Turned a Would-Be Poverty Surge into a Record Poverty Decline” in Center on Budget and Policy Priorities Reports, August 29, 2023. Accessed online at Government’s Pandemic Response Turned a Would-Be Poverty Surge Into a Record Poverty Decline | Center on Budget and Policy Priorities (cbpp.org)

Alek LaShomb. “Efforts to Address Child Poverty in New York’s North Country” in WCAX News, June 14, 2024. Accessed online at Efforts to address child poverty in New York’s North Country (wcax.com)

Courtney V. Buggs. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 22, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Micah D. Kiel. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 20, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 19, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Thomas P. Napoli. “New York Children in Need,” a report of the Office of the NYS Comptroller, May 2024. Accessed online at Report Titl (ny.gov)

Mark 9:30-37

30 They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it, 31 for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” 32 But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him. 33 Then they came to Capernaum, and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” 34 But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. 35 He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” 36 Then he took a little child and put it among them, and taking it in his arms he said to them, 37 “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

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Speech Pathology (Taming the Tongue)

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Speech Pathology” James 3:1-12

In the weekly Blast, I asked, “What is the most powerful part of the body?” Is it our brawny biceps? Our muscular legs that run up mountains? Our broad backs that shoulder heavy loads? According to the Apostle James, the most powerful part of the body is the tongue.

James may have a point. A review of 166 studies on the impact of verbal abuse on children found that the words of parents can have negative consequences that last a lifetime. Children who experience yelling, threats, belittling, humiliation, and name calling at home may be plagued by depression, aggression, conduct disorders, and anger. They are more likely to be abusive with siblings and other children and act out with delinquent behaviors at school and in community.   Verbal abuse has lasting impact upon a child’s health with increased rates of substance abuse, eating disorders, obesity, and heart disease.

Beyond the family, words can shape how we feel about our neighbors. With the rise of immigration to the United States from the Mediterranean, eastern Europe, and Asia in the late 19th century, there was a rise in anti-immigrant hate speech. Political pundits and yellow journalists alleged that these new arrivals were taking American jobs. They advanced false theories that immigrants were intellectually inferior, subhuman, criminal. In 1891 when the Chief of Police in New Orleans was found dead, the local immigrant community was blamed. Nineteen Sicilian-Americans were put on trial. Although they were found innocent, an angry mob of 10,000 broke into the jail, dragged eleven of the men from their cells, and lynched them.

In this digital age, our words can have far-reaching impact and destructive outcomes as misinformation, fake news, and big lies flood cyberspace. During the 2020 election cycle, Russian trolls sought to amplify mistrust in the American electoral process. They denigrated mail-in-voting, alleged irregularities in local elections, and made false accusations of voter fraud. These false claims were picked up by some mainstream media outlets. The goal of the Russians was to suppress voter turn-out, sow anxiety and distrust, and call into question our free and fair elections. It worked. In 2022, 56% of respondents to a CNN poll indicated that they have “little or no confidence” that elections represent the will of the people.

According to the Apostle James, the destructive power of the tongue is nothing new. Writing to first-century Christians across the Roman Empire, James compared our tongues to bits that control horses, rudders that guide sailing ships, and flames that can ignite a major conflagration. Bit, rudder, flame, the tongue. These little things can have dramatic impact for good or evil. It all depends on how you choose to use them.

James was revisiting and expanding an earlier teaching of his big brother Jesus. In the twelfth chapter of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus challenged his critics among the Pharisees: “How can you speak good things when you are evil?  For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.  The good person brings good things out of a good treasure, and the evil person brings evil things out of an evil treasure.  I tell you, on the day of judgment you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter; for by your words, you will be justified, and by your words, you will be condemned.”  Jesus understood that our words reveal our character, shape our lives in community, and impact our eternal relationship with God.

When James wrote his warning about the destructive power of the tongue, he had seen first-hand the consequences of irresponsible, manipulative, and destructive words. James had seen families torn apart as Israel’s traditionalists denigrated and rejected their Christian kin. James had witnessed false teachers who tried to convince Christians that they must undergo circumcision and observe the Torah. He had also seen angry and destructive words used to inspire anti-Christian persecution. James himself walked with a permanent limp from injuries he sustained when an angry mob, opposed to his gospel teaching, attacked him in the Temple. They severely beat him, threw him down a flight of stairs, and left him for dead. We can understand why James taught, “the tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of life, and is itself set on fire by hell.”

James’ strong words and bold images are enough to make us bite our tongues. But I don’t believe that the apostle wanted to silence us. Rather, James hoped that his readers would use their words responsibly as sound teachers and good neighbors. After all, the tongue can tap into the good treasure of a faithful heart to create, build up, heal, and redeem. In Genesis, God is described as speaking the world into creation. “Let there be light!” In the prologue to John’s gospel, Jesus is described as the Word—God’s Word—made flesh, full of grace and truth, sent into the world to save it. Our words can be destructive, and yet they can also be powerfully good, constructive, faithful, and loving. We can build up what has been torn down.

If verbal abuse can undermine a child, then a judicious use of praise can build them up. Studies have found that a single word, like “Wow!”, or even a gesture, like a high five, can make kids feel good about themselves. Sincere praise can motivate a child to persevere in a tough task and inspire them to learn pro-social behaviors like helping, collaborating, and sharing positive feedback with others. Children who receive appropriate praise for hard work and progress are more likely to develop healthy self-esteem and less likely to suffer from depression.

What we have to say can also play a powerful role in building bridges in communities. We can counteract anti-immigrant hate speech by pointing to real-life examples, like our neighbors in Utica where 17,000 refugees have been resettled since 1979. Today, one in five Uticans is a refugee or child of refugees. They have come from all over the world: Myanmar, Afghanistan, Ukraine, Cambodia, Vietnam, the Balkans, and more. Downtown Utica is filled with international restaurants, churches, community centers, and businesses. The influx of immigrants has been credited with saving the dying rustbelt community. Filmmaker Loch Pillipps, who made the documentary film “Utica: The Last Refuge,” says, “There’s a big passion gap on this issue [of immigration]. The minority of people in this country who are against refugee resettlement are super loud. This is a really industrious population that figures out how to fix places up and make the community better. They saved this town.”

In the lead up to the contentious 2024 election, the words of the Apostle James are an encouragement to use our own words judiciously. That begins by learning from responsible journalism and not social media. In talking to those whose opinions may differ from our own, we can stick to facts and have responsible discussions that include listening as well as sharing our opinions. We can refrain from malicious gossip that vilifies those who disagree with us. We can let our votes do the talking, trusting that, despite what the Russians might have us believe, we live in the greatest democracy in the world where every vote counts. My friend the Rev. Scott Paul-Bonham cautions that we should also remember that in this highly divisive political climate, close to half of Americans will be greatly disappointed when the dust settles on the 2024 election. Can we respond to their despair with compassion, reaching out with kind words that build bridges and remind us that we belong to one another? It might sound like a difficult challenge, but I suspect that the Apostle James and his brother Jesus would tell us that we are up to it.

In the year before Roman soldiers destroyed the Jerusalem Temple, James was hauled before a kangaroo court by his opponents and ordered to deny the gospel. Knowing that he had at last come to the end of his journey, the aging, lame apostle shared the good news for the last time before being put to the sword. It is said that, even as he faced death, James spoke with such integrity and loving conviction that many who heard came to believe. Amen.

Resources

Gwen Dewar. “The effects of praise on kids: 10 Evidence-based tips for better outcomes” in Parenting Science, 2024. Accessed online at https://parentingscience.com/effects-of-praise/.

Gabriel R. Sanchez and Keesha Middlemass. “Misinformation is eroding the public’s confidence in democracy” in The Brookings Institute: Governance Studies Media Office, July 26, 2022. Accessed online at Misinformation is eroding the public’s confidence in democracy (brookings.edu)

Jules Struck. “‘They saved this town’: Refugees poured into Utica and cleared the rust from a dying industrial city” in Syracuse Magazine, May 27, 2022. Accessed online at ‘They saved this town’: Refugees poured into Utica and cleared the rust from a dying industrial city – syracuse.com

The Bronfenbrenner Center (Cornell University). “The Long-Term Underappreciated Damage of Verbal Abuse” in Psychology Today, October 10, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.psychologytoday.com

Library of Congress. “Under Attack: Immigration and Relocation in United States History” Classroom Materials. Accessed online at  Under Attack | Italian | Immigration and Relocation in U.S. History | Classroom Materials at the Library of Congress | Library of Congress

James Boyce. “Commentary on James 3:1-12” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 13, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on James 3:1-12 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Margaret Aymer. “Commentary on James 3:1-12” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 16, 2018. Accessed online at Commentary on James 3:1-12 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Sandra Hack Polaski. “Commentary on James 3:1-12” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 16, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on James 3:1-12 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

James 3:1-12

3 Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will face stricter judgment. 2 For all of us make many mistakes. Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is mature, able to keep the whole body in check with a bridle. 3 If we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we guide their whole bodies. 4 Or look at ships: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, yet they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. 5 So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits.

How great a forest is set ablaze by a such a small fire! 6 And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of life, and is itself set on fire by hell. 7 For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, 8 but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison. 9 With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people, made in the likeness of God. 10 From the same mouth comes a blessing and a curse. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so. 11 Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water? 12 Can a fig tree, my brothers and sisters, yield olives or a grapevine figs? No more can salt water yield fresh.

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Facing the Giant

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Facing the Giant” 1 Samuel 17

Giant stories are as old as humanity.  In that most ancient of epics The Odyssey, Homer tells the tale of Polyphemus, the gigantic, one-eyed, man-eating son of Poseidon.  As Odysseus and his crew voyaged home from the sack of Troy, they were captured by the monstrous Polyphemus. The giant ate them two at a time until the wily Odysseus outwitted Polyphemus, blinding his foe and making an escape.

Closer to home, the Algonquin people of the northern US and Canada have long told the story of the Wendigo, a giant humanoid with a heart of ice. You know the Wendigo is near by the foul smell of rotting meat and an unseasonable chill in the air. The Wendigo has an insatiable desire for human flesh. He stalks and eats people, tearing their skin with sharp claws and feasting with yellowed fangs.

When I lived in Oregon, I was told to be on the lookout for Bigfoot. The hairy, smelly, fifteen-foot-tall giant moved silently through the forest, leaving behind footprints up to 24” long and 8” wide. Spanish explorers first reported accounts of Bigfoot in the 1500s. More recently, the giant was blamed for an attack on gold prospectors on Mt. St. Helen in 1924 and the death of three migrant workers in the 1990s. A local group near the Siskiyou National Forest built a trap for the giant with reinforced concrete walls and a metal door that slid shut when sprung. They caught several bears, but no Bigfoot. When I saw the trap while hiking the Collings Mountain Trail, it was filled with empty beer cans. Either high school partiers have made it a favorite hang-out or Bigfoot has a taste for Budweiser.

Giants are huge, overwhelming, and deadly. When facing the giant, we are terrified, ready to run for our lives or paralyzed by fear. In facing the giant, we feel outmatched and hopeless. We know that we are in for the fight of our lives—and there’s a good chance that when the battle ends, we’ll be eaten.

David faced off against the Philistine giant Goliath of Gath, a hardened warrior, nearly ten-feet-tall. His armor was impregnable. A massive bronze helmet shielded his head. 125 pounds of chainmail protected his torso. Elaborate bronze grieves covered his legs. He brandished an enormous curved bronze scimitar, a massive spear with a lethal twenty-pound iron head, and a great sword—sharp enough to cut a man’s head off. For forty mornings and evenings, Goliath strode onto the field of battle and issued his terrible challenge to the Israelites—meet me in mortal combat, man-to-man, winner take all. 

The Israelites saw the mighty Goliath, heard his challenge, and were “dismayed and greatly afraid.” Their hearts raced, their knees knocked, and their bowels loosened. It was all they could do not to turn tail and run. Giants can do that to us.

We may not face Polyphemus or Bigfoot, the Wendigo or Goliath, but we all face giants. Our giants are challenges that feel ten-feet-tall. They’re problems that are huge, overwhelming, and deadly. We all have times when we feel like a frightened child, facing a monster who can eat us alive.

We face the giant of family dysfunction. Our family may look good on the outside, but we know what goes on behind closed doors. We know the harsh and hurtful words that have been spoken. We know the mortal wounds to our heart of hearts. We know the deep, dark secrets, that we guard with our lives: domestic violence, mental illness, and sexual abuse.

We know the giants of our own making, giants that grow from our choices, misguided values, or the intense pressures of our society. We wrestle with the giant of addiction to alcohol or prescription drugs, gambling or cigarettes. We struggle with workplace giants—the mind-numbing work we cannot leave; the beastly boss who threatens and bullies; the soul-stealing ethical corners we cut to find a better bottom line. We battle with the giant of debt, born of greed, over-consumption, student loans, or simply keeping up with the Joneses.

We know the giants who invade. These are the giants who come uninvited, armed with catastrophe, the giants of accident, injury, and disability. We battle the giants of chronic disease: diabetes and COPD, heart trouble and arthritis. We tremble before the giant of cancer that multiplies uninvited within our bodies in a silent deadly tide.

We all have giants. We stand before them, feeling like those Israelites did as Goliath called them to a fight to the death, winner take all. Our giants inspire fear, hopelessness, and despair. The giant bellows its challenge and our hearts race and guts churn. We’re ready to run and hide because the odds seem good that we’ll soon be eaten.

When Goliath issued his challenge for the eighty-first time, David heard. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by Goliath, David took action. He offered his service as Israel’s champion. There was only one problem. David was the least likely person in the Valley of Elah to take on a giant—just a boy, all peach fuzz, baby fat, and gangly arms and legs. He had never been in combat before. And those stories he told about battling lions and bears with his bare hands—they sound like exaggerations at best or as Hebrew scholar John Holbert suggests, “egregious lies.”

When Saul tried to suit the boy up with the proper armor to give him a fighting chance, the kid couldn’t even walk. So, David went into battle armed only with the rustic weapons that he used to keep his flock safe—his staff, a sling shot, and five stones. As the gigantic Goliath and little David faced off at the line of battle, talking trash to one another, the Philistines rubbed their hands thinking of the spoils of war, while the whole host of Israel prepared for the worst.

Then, the impossible happened. When Goliath lumbered out, brandishing his weapons of death, David ran to meet his enemy.The stone he slung found the only chink in the giant’s impregnable armor. Goliath crumbled to the ground. Before you could say Polyphemus or Bigfoot, Wendigo or Goliath, David used the giant’s own sword to cut off his huge head, and it was the Philistines—not the Israelites—who ran for their lives.

That David, he knew how to face the giant. He has a few lessons to teach us. Are we ready?

To start with, we must face the giant. Even though we don’t want to, even though every bone in our body shouts NO, face the giant we must. Because if we don’t, then we pass on to the next generation a legacy of family dysfunction.  If we don’t, our addiction destroys our health and our family. If we don’t, the stress of our toxic workplace causes a heart attack that robs us of our retirement.  If we don’t, our health declines as we deny our diagnosis, light another cigarette, help ourselves to that slice of cake, or ignore the blood in our stool. Refusing to face the giant limits us to a life of fear in which we are either paralyzed or on the run. If we won’t face the giant, then we aren’t really free to live because the giant is the one who drives our bus.

David’s second lesson in giant killing is that we don’t have to be a hero to face the giant. We don’t need to be the biggest and strongest. We don’t need to have the best and most glorious resources at our fingertips—the bronze helmet, the coat of mail, the king’s sword. When we face the giant, we feel inadequate—all peach fuzz and baby fat. But God has given us gifts and abilities that can be effective in taking on giants. If you ask a friend to name your gifts, they’ll come up with a lengthy list—persistence, moral courage, honesty, faith, friends, a voice that can speak the truth, the ability to ask for help. God gives us the gifts and the grit to take a stand. Believe it, my friends.

David’s third lesson in giant killing is that when we face trouble, we must call on the name of the Lord. In facing our giants, we think it’s all up to us. We roll up our sleeves, stiffen our upper lip, and wade into battle alone. Our self-reliance is a little like Goliath, relying on his brute strength and impressive weapons. Look where that got him. We forget that the most valuable resources in facing our giants are spiritual. We can wade into battle with the name of the great God of Israel upon our lips, the God who does not save by sword and spear. We can place our giants squarely in the hands of the almighty God, who wins the victory, even over death. We can trust that through Jesus the powers of sin and evil have already been defeated, the battle has been won for us. That doesn’t mean we’ll be instantly delivered from all that frightens and holds us captive, yet it does mean that we can face trouble head-on with confidence because the Lord is more than a match for our giants. Can I get an, “Amen”?

Everyone knows a few giant stories, don’t we? Giants are huge, overwhelming, and deadly. Facing the giant, we feel outmatched and hopeless, like we are in for the fight of our lives. It’s a good thing we’ve had some lessons in giant killing from David this morning. May we go forth to face our giants. May we trust in our God-given gifts and abilities. May we remember that God is always at work. With the Lord’s help, there is no giant that we cannot face. Thanks be to God.

Resources

John C. Holbert. “In the Name of YHWH” in Opening the Old Testament, 2005. Accessed online at In The Name Of YHWH? Reflections On 1 Samuel 17:1A, 4-11, 19-23, 32-39 (patheos.com)

Ralph W. Klein. “Commentary on 1 Samuel 17” in Preaching This Week, June 21, 2009. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-12-2/commentary-on-1-samuel-171-4-11-19-23-32-49-2

Samuel Giere, Jr. “Commentary on 1 Samuel 17” in Preaching This Week, June 24, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on 1 Samuel 17:[1a, 4-11, 19-23] 32-49 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Roger Nam. “Commentary on 1 Samuel 17” in Preaching This Week, June 21, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on 1 Samuel 17:[1a, 4-11, 19-23] 32-49 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

1 Samuel 17:[1a, 4-11, 19-23] 32-49

17Now the Philistines gathered their armies for battle; 4And there came out from the camp of the Philistines a champion named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. 5He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of bronze. 6He had greaves of bronze on his legs and a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. 7The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron; and his shield-bearer went before him. 8He stood and shouted to the ranks of Israel, “Why have you come out to draw up for battle? Am I not a Philistine, and are you not servants of Saul? Choose a man for yourselves, and let him come down to me. 9If he is able to fight with me and kill me, then we will be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then you shall be our servants and serve us.” 10And the Philistine said, “Today I defy the ranks of Israel! Give me a man, that we may fight together.” 11When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid. 19Now Saul, and they, and all the men of Israel, were in the valley of Elah, fighting with the Philistines. 20David rose early in the morning, left the sheep with a keeper, took the provisions, and went as Jesse had commanded him. He came to the encampment as the army was going forth to the battle line, shouting the war cry. 21Israel and the Philistines drew up for battle, army against army. 22David left the things in charge of the keeper of the baggage, ran to the ranks, and went and greeted his brothers. 23As he talked with them, the champion, the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, came up out of the ranks of the Philistines, and spoke the same words as before. And David heard him.] 32David said to Saul, “Let no one’s heart fail because of him; your servant will go and fight with this Philistine.” 33Saul said to David, “You are not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him; for you are just a boy, and he has been a warrior from his youth.” 34But David said to Saul, “Your servant used to keep sheep for his father; and whenever a lion or a bear came, and took a lamb from the flock, 35I went after it and struck it down, rescuing the lamb from its mouth; and if it turned against me, I would catch it by the jaw, strike it down, and kill it. 36Your servant has killed both lions and bears; and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of them, since he has defied the armies of the living God.” 37David said, “The Lord, who saved me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine.” So Saul said to David, “Go, and may the Lord be with you!” 38Saul clothed David with his armor; he put a bronze helmet on his head and clothed him with a coat of mail. 39David strapped Saul’s sword over the armor, and he tried in vain to walk, for he was not used to them. Then David said to Saul, “I cannot walk with these; for I am not used to them.” So David removed them. 40Then he took his staff in his hand, and chose five smooth stones from the wadi, and put them in his shepherd’s bag, in the pouch; his sling was in his hand, and he drew near to the Philistine. 41The Philistine came on and drew near to David, with his shield-bearer in front of him. 42When the Philistine looked and saw David, he disdained him, for he was only a youth, ruddy and handsome in appearance. 43The Philistine said to David, “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. 44The Philistine said to David, “Come to me, and I will give your flesh to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the field.” 45But David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. 46This very day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head; and I will give the dead bodies of the Philistine army this very day to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the earth, so that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, 47and that all this assembly may know that the Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.” 48When the Philistine drew nearer to meet David, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet the Philistine. 49David put his hand in his bag, took out a stone, slung it, and struck the Philistine on his forehead; the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground.

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Shepherd of the People

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Shepherd of the People” 2 Sam. 5:1-5, 9-10

It took me a decade after my undergraduate degree, to figure out that God was calling me to seminary. Raised in a conservative Baptist tradition that denied the spiritual authority of women, I had never seen someone like me preach or teach adult Sunday School until I was a young adult, out church shopping in Washington, DC. I’ll never forget the Sunday morning when I saw Associate Pastor Alice Anderson on the chancel of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church. I had an instant sense of kinship and recognition, as if God were saying, “Hey, have I got a job for you.”

Even so, when I started my Master of Divinity program, I wasn’t willing to commit to being a pastor. I had been involved in New York Avenue’s ministry to homeless neighbors, so I thought God might be calling me to church-based mission and outreach. When I was required to do field studies in my second year of seminary, working part-time in a church for a year, those plans took a different turn.

I found a great church with an active homeless shelter for my field studies. There I imagined I could learn a lot about the spiritual and practical needs of vulnerable neighbors while checking that whole church-experience-thing off my list of degree requirements. I had never even spoken in a worship service before I served Lincoln Park Presbyterian Church, but suddenly, I was expected to teach the adult Sunday School class, lead worship every Sunday, and take turns preaching. That would have made the heads of my long-ago Baptist Sunday School teachers spin.

It happened after my first sermon. I wish I could tell you what scripture I chose or what I said, but I can tell you that it was delivered in a voice that folks had to lean forward to hear. Somehow, it connected. My senior pastor and the committee that was mentoring me told me that I needed to rethink my calling. “Sure,” they said, “you could do a lot of good as an outreach worker in a non-profit or a large church, but have you really thought about how much good you could do as a pastor?” They pointed to the sermon I had delivered and said, “Joann, we believe you are meant to preach the gospel.”

Our reading from Second Samuel describes the affirmation that David received from the people, an invitation to kingship that would lead to forty years of national leadership. Seven years earlier, King Saul and his son Jonathan had died in battle with the Philistines. While the southern tribes of Judah and Simeon had acclaimed David their King, the ten northern tribes had limped along with Saul’s remaining son Ishbaal as king until he was assassinated, sending the north into two years of political chaos.

It had been more than two decades since God had instructed Samuel to anoint the shepherd boy David.  David had patiently waited. Even when Saul’s affection for him shifted to jealousy, rage, and death threats, David had refrained from asserting his claim to the monarchy. He had been unwilling to divide the nation and unwilling to bear arms against his former mentor Saul, who long ago had also been anointed as the Messiah.

Yahweh had chosen David as the future king, David knew in himself the gifts for leadership and courage, but would the people agree? The ten northern tribes had been so closely aligned with Saul, could they accept David as Messiah and king?

Often, we need other people to affirm our gifts. We may have a sense of our purpose. We may have some ideas about what we are good at, how our natural abilities and our interests bring us a sense of proficiency, achievement, and even joy. But it’s when others sit up and take notice that it begins to all come together for us.

Today’s reading describes such a moment in the life of David. As all the tribes came to Hebron, they affirmed their kinship, naming David their own flesh and blood. They also acknowledged his gifts for leadership, a leadership unlike Saul’s. While the late king had ruled over the people, David had served with the people.

David had “led them out” to battle and brought them back to safety. The Hebrew verb for “lead out” יָצָא was commonly used to describe a general leading an army, but it was also used for a shepherd leading a flock out to seek fresh grazing and clean water. Through the political chaos that followed Saul’s death, the northern tribes had seen from a distance that David was doing what was needed to lead the people of Judah. David was both a shrewd military strategist who kept the Philistines at bay and a provident sovereign, who tended to the humanitarian needs of his people.

The elders of Israel saw and named David’s gifts. They affirmed the long-ago anointing that David had received at the hands of the Prophet Samuel. A covenant was made between David and the people. The oil of anointing was again poured out on the thirty-year-old David. Yahweh and the people saw that David had what it would take to be king of Israel.

This practice of seeing and naming the gifts of others is authentically biblical. Jesus recognized Peter’s gifts for leadership and said, “Upon this rock I will build my church” (Matt. 16:18). When sister Martha wanted Mary back in the kitchen, Jesus affirmed Mary’s gifts as a disciple, saying, “Mary has chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42). The Apostle Paul acknowledged not only the spiritual leadership of Prisca and Aquila but also the faithful risks they took to save his very life (Rom. 16:3-4). Like those saints in the Lincoln Park Presbyterian Church, who challenged me to change my path and pastor a church, faithful people have long noticed and named the ways that God is at work in others, inviting us to use our abilities in service to God’s Kingdom.

We can grow in our ability to notice and name the gifts and abilities of others. Dr. Becky Bailey, award-winning author and educator, encourages teachers to notice and name ten positive behaviors in their grade school classrooms daily. It’s simple habit to form. “Emily, you scooted over so Jon would have more space in the circle. That was helpful!” “Jason, you shared your snack with Robin when she forgot hers. That was kind. Thank you!” Noticing and naming is a win/win discipline. Children are affirmed in their abilities, and just by listening to their teacher’s example, children learn to notice and name the gifts of their peers.

Even if we haven’t had awesome teachers or guardians who practiced this sort of everyday affirmation, there is hope for us yet. Becky Bailey says that we can cultivate the habit for ourselves. Try starting the day with ten pennies in your right pocket. Then pay attention, noticing and naming the good things you see in others. For each person you affirm, slip a penny from the right pocket to the left. If you aren’t sure what to pay attention to, consider physical gifts, like singing, working hard, or fixing things. Consider head gifts, like knowledge, problem solving, questioning, or organizing. Consider heart gifts, like welcoming people, listening, or caregiving.  The goal is to have all ten pennies in the left pocket by the end of the day. If you don’t make it, you can try again tomorrow.

When we notice and name the gifts of others, we become a little like those elders from the twelve tribes of Israel, who saw that David had what was needed to be the shepherd of the people. When we affirm the God-given gifts of others, we encourage them to grow, using the fullness of who they are, not only for their personal fulfillment but also for the good of the community. I invite us to raid our piggy banks. Slip ten pennies into your right pocket tomorrow morning, then pay attention. Notice and name, letting people know the good things you see.

When those folks at Lincoln Park Presbyterian Church noticed and named my gifts for worship leadership and preaching, I wasn’t convinced. It would take time, the affirmation of the next two churches I served, a preaching prize, and success as a pastor for youth and families. Twenty-five years later, I know they were right. This is where I was always meant to be all along.

Thanks be to God for those who take the time to notice and name. May we go forth to do the same.

Resources

Ralph W. Klein. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 5:1-5, 9-10” in Preaching This Week, July 5, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

David G. Garber, Jr. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 5:1-5, 9-10” in Preaching This Week, July 5, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Amy G. Oden. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 5:1-5, 9-10” in Preaching This Week, July 4, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Alphonetta Wines. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 5:1-5, 9-10” in Preaching This Week, July 8, 2018. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Jenny Spencer. “Creating the Habit of Noticing” in Conscious Discipline, Aug. 1, 2017. Accessed online at https://consciousdiscipline.com/creating-the-habit-of-noticing/

John O-Brien and Beth Mount. “Naming Gifts” in Inclusion Alberta, 2019. Accessed online at https://inclusionalberta.org/fms-online-guide/naming-gifts/

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10

5Then all the tribes of Israel came to David at Hebron, and said, “Look, we are your bone and flesh. 2For some time, while Saul was king over us, it was you who led out Israel and brought it in. The Lord said to you: It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel, you who shall be ruler over Israel.” 3So all the elders of Israel came to the king at Hebron; and King David made a covenant with them at Hebron before the Lord, and they anointed David king over Israel. 4David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned forty years. 5At Hebron he reigned over Judah seven years and six months; and at Jerusalem he reigned over all Israel and Judah thirty-three years. 9David occupied the stronghold and named it the city of David. David built the city all around from the Millo inwards. 10And David became greater and greater, for the Lord, the God of hosts, was with him.

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Welcome to the Family

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Welcome to the Family” Mark 3:20-35

In October of 1892, the Presbytery of Champlain received an unusual gift: Johnson’s Island, a one-acre rocky isle in Upper Saranac Lake. The island was the dream of three of Plattsburgh’s biggest movers and shakers. Chief among them was Smith Weed, the one-time President of Plattsburgh and six-time state assemblyman, known for smoking as many as nine cigars in a day. Smith hoped to enlist the Champlain Presbytery in launching an ecumenical summer chapel to serve both visitors and year ‘round residents to the lake. There was a big string attached to the gift: the Presbytery would need to build a church on Johnson’s Island within the year. The trustees of the Presbytery met the challenge. After all, they were on a building streak, launching little mission churches across the Adirondacks, having begun with our church—this very sanctuary—in 1890. Soon Johnson’s Island had a new name, Chapel Island, and in 1893 the little summer church was christened the Island Chapel.

My introduction to the Island Chapel came in 2005, not long after my arrival at this church. The late John Fitch called me up and persuaded me to trade this pulpit on a summery Sunday for the one at the Island Chapel. John and Anne were longtime servants to the ministry there. In fact, as soon as the Fitches had returned from sunny Florida, the ice was out, and the water was warm enough, John had me out in their Crisscraft, circumnavigating Chapel Island. Most years, I preach at the Island Chapel. And when John, and then Newt Greiner, retired from the role of Clergy Coordinator, they drafted me to do the job for seven years. I found it fascinating that I could find folks to preach on Chapel Island for the ten Sundays of summer faster than I could find one minister to supply the pulpit on any one given Sunday in Saranac Lake.

Over the years, things have changed. In 1956, a picnic fire on Chapel Island bloomed into a major conflagration that consumed the original Victorian chapel. A new Adirondack-style structure rose from the ashes in 1958. With the decline of North Country population and the closing of small churches, the Presbytery of Champlain was forced to join forces with the St. Lawrence Presbytery to form the Presbytery of Northern New York in the 1960s. Yet things have stayed the same, the ecumenical ministry that shares the love of Christ on Chapel Island continues. Indeed, in 2014, the ministry received a Tauny Award for their longstanding commitment to living local cultural heritage. But even good things sometimes need to change. Three years ago, the Presbytery of Northern New York realized that their declining resources meant they could no longer sponsor the Island Chapel.

Change can be hard, whether we are talking about modern day churches or we are considering the changes that Jesus brought to his first century world. As Jesus healed, forgave sins, and preached the good news of God’s Kingdom, he faced increasing opposition. Last week, we learned of powerful enemies rising among the Pharisees and followers of King Herod. This week, we heard the story of two further conflicts, one with Jesus’ family and the other with scribes from the Temple in Jerusalem.

Let’s start with Jesus’s kin. It must have been tough for them when Jesus announced he was trading his carpenter’s hammer for a rabbi’s tallith.  In the first century, sons followed in their father’s footsteps. Mother Mary and the siblings had a host of expectations for Jesus as the oldest son, expectations that he was not fulfilling. Jesus belonged in Nazareth, running the family business.  He should have been out bidding on jobs and teaching his brothers building skills.  He should have been caring for his widowed mother and arranging marriages for his younger sisters. In addition to those failed expectations, Jesus had made enemies of powerful people who controlled the political and religious landscape of Israel.  Messing with King Herod, the Pharisees, and the scribes—was he crazy?

The family thought they were doing the right thing when they knocked on the door of the house where Jesus was staying, intent on restraining him.  The Greek word that Mark uses for restrain—krateo—means to lay hands on, seize, and forcibly detain someone. Mary and the siblings loved Jesus, so they were going to take him home, restore the right order, and keep him safe. The only problem, of course, was that Jesus had a higher calling, a different sort of family obligation to his heavenly Father. That holy purpose superseded any claim that the Nazareth clan could make. Discerning the intent of his family to derail his mission and God’s purpose, Jesus wisely declined their invitation.

In the midst of this family feud, Jesus had the biggest Bible scholars of the day on his back. The scribes didn’t like what Jesus taught, they didn’t care for the rabble who hung on his every word, and they couldn’t explain Jesus’s amazing miracles.  So, they decided to discredit him, accusing him of being in league with the devil. If Jesus sounded put out by this in our reading, it’s because the scribes were making the unforgiveable mistake of saying that God is the devil. Yikes! It’s this sort of essential difference of understanding that would split the family of first century Judaism. Traditionalists, who denied the new thing that God was doing in Jesus, would ultimately reject and cast out those who saw the holy power of Jesus and trusted that he was Messiah and Lord.

Over and against the cultural and religious expectations of kinfolk and scribes, Jesus described a new sort of family that would supplant the ties of Temple and blood. It’s the family of faith. Anyone who does the will of God, anyone who serves God’s Kingdom, can become a member. As Jesus looked around the home where he was staying, he saw men and women devoted to loving God and neighbor. They were like sisters and brothers. When Jesus was under attack by those powerful opponents, when he was at odds with his kin, he turned to God and his friends in the faith. There he found the support and encouragement that he would need to persevere in a gospel ministry that would ultimately send him to the cross. In the long years to follow, Jesus’ followers would likewise depend upon this new notion of kinship, as they faced rejection by families and persecution by Temple and empire.

At this church, we know the beauty and goodness of a family of faith, don’t we? Look around. These are the people who are in our corner when we feel at odds with the world. They show up with hot dishes when we are bouncing back from big surgeries or big losses. They give us a call when they haven’t seen us in a while. They get down on their knees and pray for us. They teach our children. They feed us in Coffee Hour. They join us in wrestling with the big questions of scripture and faith. They walk with us for CROP Walk, Sermons on the Trail, and through the darkest valley. Thank goodness for the family of faith!

Today we welcome to our family of faith our friends who minister at the Island Chapel. Last summer, as they came to grips with the Presbytery’s decision to part ways, I was visited by Ross Whaley and Will Main, who have served the Island Chapel for years. They wondered, would our church be willing and able to come alongside them as sisters and brothers in faith to fill the gap that was being left behind by the Presbytery? Our Session and the executive committee for the Island Chapel appointed a taskforce to discern together what a shared ministry might look like.

Thank you to Anita Estling, Pam Martin, Kim Weems, David Fitch, Will and Leslie Main, Ross Whaley, and Pam Werner, who served with me on the taskforce. We zoomed a lot. We thought about the finer points of Presbyterian polity. We developed a memorandum of understanding. We sought appropriate insurance, titles, and registrations. We dreamed about the Island Chapel finding in this church a new sponsor and supporter for their good news. We dreamed of this church embracing the Island Chapel as an ecumenical summer outreach ministry. We think we’ve got it figured out. Today, with a time of commissioning, we welcome and celebrate our sisters and brothers from Chapel Island.

Change can be hard, whether we are considering the changes that Jesus brought to his first century world, or we are speaking of the shifting networks of support that come in dwindling twenty-first century mainline denominations. Yet change can be a blessing as we follow Jesus and serve God’s Kingdom. As we celebrate a new kinship between the First Presbyterian Church of Saranac Lake and the Island Chapel ministry, may we find the same sort of support, encouragement, and holy purpose that Jesus and his friends found in one another. Welcome to the family. Amen.

Resources

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 3:20-35” in Preaching This Week, June 9, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 3:20-35 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary.

James Boyce. “Commentary on Mark 3:20-35” in Preaching This Week, June 7, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 3:20-35 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary.

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Mark 3:20-35” in Preaching This Week, June 7, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 3:20-35 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Wikipedia Contributors. “Smith Mead Weed” in Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, January 12,  2024. Accessed online at https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Smith_Mead_Weed&oldid=1195036261

Nathan Ovalle. “Lost in history: Smith Weed’s legacy fading with time” in The Press Republican, Dec. 14, 2014. Accessed online at Lost in history: Smith Weed’s legacy fading with time | Local News | pressrepublican.com

Seaway Abstract Corporation. “Abstract of Title to An Island, Town of Harrietstown, Franklin County #978” December 10, 1985.

Mark 3:20-35

20and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. 21When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.” 22And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” 23And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? 24If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. 25And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. 26And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. 27But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.

28“Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; 29but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— 30for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.”

31Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. 32A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” 33And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” 34And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! 35Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

The Pearl of Scotland

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Pearl of Scotland” Isaiah 6:1-8

Let me tell you two stories.

Margaret never wanted to be a queen. She was the granddaughter of Edmund Ironside, one of the last Saxon kings of England. Amid the struggle for succession that followed Edmund’s death, Margaret’s father Edward was sent to the protection of King Stephen of Hungary. When Margaret was only nine, the family returned to England, where the king, childless and aging, had resolved to adopt Edward as his heir. But within days of their return to English soil, Edward fell mysteriously ill and died. For the next twelve years, Margaret was a dependent of the royal court until her brother Harold could inherit the crown. Margaret had little appetite for court with its pomp, intrigue, and power. Instead, she led a quiet and devout life, finding comfort in prayer, the study of scripture, and meditating upon the life of Christ. She was befriended by a fellow exile, Malcolm of Scotland, whose father had been murdered by the usurper Macbeth.

Isaiah never wanted to be a prophet. Young Isaiah was worshipping in the Temple, surrounded by songs and prayers, sacrifice and incense, when he saw a vision of the heavenly throne room. So limitless was God that the Temple could barely contain the hem of God’s robe.  In a flash of spiritual insight, Isaiah realized that his earthly worship was only a dim echo of heavenly rejoicing. Six-winged seraphs thundered God’s praise, shouting “Holy, holy, holy!” Amid the overwhelming sanctity of the heavenly and earthly throne rooms, Isaiah heard an undeniable voice. The Triune God called, saying to him, “Whom shall I send?”

Margaret’s calling came in the year 1066 when she was twenty-one. William the Conqueror laid claim to the English throne and defeated the British at the Battle of Hastings. Margaret, with her mother and siblings, fled north and boarded a boat, intent on returning to the safety of Hungary. But as the boat got underway, a mighty wind blew them off course, driving them ever further north until they ran aground in the broad estuary where the Forth River empties into the North Sea. There, they learned that providence had brought them to an old friend: Malcolm of Scotland. Now king, Malcolm was widowed with a young son. By all accounts, when Malcolm again saw Margaret, he fell head-over-heels in love. Here was his new queen, sent to him by God. Within days, Malcolm proposed, but the exiled princess turned down the royal invitation.

When God asked, “Whom shall I send?”, Isaiah was reluctant to answer the call. Confronted by the earthshaking holiness of God almighty, Isaiah felt only his frailty and unworthiness. Every false or self-serving statement that Isaiah had ever spoken rang in his ears, forcing him to confess the painful truth of his sinfulness, “I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” But the reluctant Isaiah soon learned that God could work with that. A coal, plucked from the fire of the heavenly throne room, touched Isaiah’s lips, and his sins were refined by the holy fire. Isaiah’s overweening sense of unworthiness was replaced by a compulsion to speak God’s word to the people.

When the exiled Princess Margaret declined Malcolm’s proposal, the Scottish King persisted. He granted Margaret’s family his protection, and they came to live in his castle at Dunfermline. There Margaret saw a royal court far removed from the pomp and intrigue of England. Malcolm was illiterate. His subjects lived in poverty. Margaret’s love for the king began as she read to him from the New Testament, and she learned of his passion to improve the lives of his people. Margaret and Malcolm heard in the words of Jesus, an imperative to serve the “least of these.” More than three years after that fateful wind blew her north to Scotland, Margaret finally said, “Yes,” to Malcolm. She came to see that her royal marriage would allow her to serve two kingdoms, one earthly, the other heavenly.

Isaiah’s words of prophecy held a similar concern for the vulnerable of the land. He had seen the face of poverty and the indifference of the rich. They had failed to honor the words of God, ignored the plight of the widow and orphan, denied justice to the foreign worker, and ground the face of the poor into the dust. The prophet spoke God’s judgment against the Kingdom of Judah, pleading with them to repent. Time was short, Isaiah warned, but they could still learn to do good: to seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, and plead for the widow (Is. 1:17). If they failed, God would bring judgment against the people of Israel. Babylon would rise. Judah would be conquered and taken into exile.

Margaret and Malcolm had a happy, fruitful marriage. The exiled princess, now a queen, became the mother of eight children and the mother of the Scottish people. She saw herself as a steward, entrusted by God with the care of a nation. Each morning, Margaret left the palace at Dunfermline with her New Testament tucked under her arm. She took a seat on a rock outside the royal residence to receive guests who came to her for counsel, prayer, and help. The queen fed nine orphans every morning with her own silver spoon. Each evening, Margaret and Malcolm opened their table to 24 of their poorest neighbors. They instituted a series of feast days, in keeping with the church calendar, when 300 of their most vulnerable subjects were banqueted with royal splendor. Motivated by the love of Christ, they built schools and churches, opened hospitals and hostels, and rebuilt Iona Abbey, which had fallen into ruin. They instituted sabbath laws, giving workers a weekly day of rest. Margaret had special concern for prisoners and exiles. She bought the freedom of English and Irish slaves, returning them to their homelands.

When Isaiah’s prophecy was fulfilled and Judah fell to Babylonian invaders, Isaiah’s call shifted as the no-longer-powerful people of Judah became as vulnerable as the poor they had once oppressed. Isaiah spoke God’s words of consolation to a hurting people, “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.  Speak tenderly to Jerusalem” (Isaiah 40:1).  Years later as the exiles returned home, Isaiah went with them, prophesying about God’s plans for a new beginning for the humbled nation, speaking God’s promise, “For I will create a new heaven and a new earth; the past events will not be remembered or come to mind” (Isaiah 65:17). Perhaps Isaiah’s greatest legacy, though, was the lasting impact that he would have upon all who pursue God’s call to serve the last and the least. When Jesus preached to his hometown crowd in Nazareth, he opened the scroll to the words of the prophet Isaiah and read words that were fulfilled in his ministry, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

In 1093, when King Malcolm and their oldest son were killed in a skirmish with Norman invaders, Queen Margaret, hearing the news in Edinburgh, fell sick. She died three days later; some say of a broken heart. But Margaret and Malcolm’s youngest son, David, would become Scotland’s most beloved king, pursuing his father’s royal rule and his mother’s passion for the least of these. One hundred and fifty years after Margaret’s death, those who remembered her life and legacy began to advocate for her canonization as a saint. The trouble was that she didn’t fit the traditional mold of sainthood. She was a devoted wife and the happy mother of a large family. She worked no miracles, other than the everyday miracle of loving her people and advocating ceaselessly for their health, justice, and care. The arbiters of sainthood in Rome came up with four posthumous miracles for Margaret, all related to her tomb and bones. Today Margaret is reverenced as the patron saint of service to the poor, learning, large families, mothers, and all those who are raising children. Margaret’s greater legacy is felt whenever we, who have privilege by virtue of our birth, education, or wealth, choose to generously use our resources for the good of our vulnerable neighbors.

In his biography of Margaret, her friend and confessor Bishop Turgot of St. Andrews, noted that the name Margaret derives from the Greek word Margaron, meaning pearl. Turgot wrote, “She was called Margaret, and in the sight of God she showed herself to be a pearl, precious in faith and works. She was indeed a pearl to you, to me, to all of us, yea, to Christ Himself, and being Christ’s she is all the more ours now that she has left us, having been taken to the Lord. . . and now she shines in her place among the jewels of the Eternal King.” Margaret has been known as the Pearl of Scotland ever since.

Resources:

Turgot, Bishop of St. Andrew’s. “Life of St. Margaret Queen of Scotland.” trans. Theodericus Monk of Durham and William Forbes-Leith. Edinburgh: William Paterson Press, 1884. Accessed online at https://archive.org/details/lifeofstmargaret00turguoft/lifeofstmargaret00turguoft/page/n9/mode/2up

Clerk of Oxford. “St Margaret of Scotland,” June 10, 2012. Accessed online at https://aclerkofoxford.blogspot.com/2012/06/st-margaret-of-scotland.html

Griffiths, Paul James. “Queen Margaret: the Pearl of Scotland” in The Middle Ages, May 7, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.christianheritageedinburgh.org.uk

Floyd, Michael. “Exegetical Perspective on Isaiah 6:1-8” in Feasting on the Word, Year B Vol. 2.  Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Ramsey Jr., G. Lee. “Homiletical Perspective on Isaiah 6:1-8” in Feasting on the Word, Year B Vol. 2.  Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Isaiah 6:1-8

6In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. 2Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. 3And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” 4The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke.

5And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” 6Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. 7The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” 8Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!”

Santa Margarida da Escócia – Basílica de São Patrício, Montreal (Canadá) – Foto: Gustavo Kralj

In the Power of the Spirit

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “In the Power of the Spirit” Acts 2:1-13

The Adirondack spring has pounced upon us. After months of grey skies and mixed precipitation, the ice is out, the earth has thawed, and for some of us, our thoughts turn to gardening. Here at the church, our Jubilee Gardeners are thinking about the fresh vegetables that we’ll grow for the Food Pantry this summer. Yesterday morning, six of us gathered at the Community Garden to prepare the church’s beds for planting. There were weeds to pull and compost to spread. There were pole bean towers to string and a snow pea trellis to set up. We even sowed a few cold-hardy seeds.

Fourteen years ago this month, we had the organizing meeting for our Jubilee Garden project. It started with a fall book group. We read Shane Claiborne’s inspiring first book Irresistible Revolution, which tells the compelling story of Shane’s community The Simple Way. Inspired by a stint as a volunteer in Calcutta with Mother Teresa, Shane decided to try life in a blighted neighborhood in Northeast Philadelphia, living among the poor and working at the grassroots to meet community needs. Shane challenges Christians to find an impossible dream, to consider how the Spirit may be calling them to come alongside hurting neighbors in ways that make a difference. We wondered how God wanted to use us right here in Saranac Lake. We prayed about it.

By the spring, several of us felt that the Spirit was calling us to garden. Jan and Ted Gaylord had learned about organic gardening while they served at Jubilee Partners, and others among us were avid home gardeners, ever on the quest for the elusive Adirondack tomato. Our timing was perfect. A new community garden was starting on Old Lake Colby Road, where we secured two big plots. Our mission would be to grow fresh vegetables and bright flowers for the hungry and the hungry-of-heart. Soon, we had dirt beneath our fingernails and plenty of blackfly bites. We built raised beds and filled them with a fertile mix of topsoil and composted chicken manure. We planted, watered, weeded, and waited for the harvest.

In our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, the disciples were waiting and praying for the vision and power to launch an impossible dream. Then, on Pentecost, ten days after Jesus’ Ascension, came the rush of a violent wind. It filled the entire house where they waited. Tongues of holy fire flickered and danced among the people, resting upon each of them. As the Spirit filled them, they began to preach, all at once, in every language under the sun—speaking with boldness and joy about God’s deeds of awesome power. Before they knew it, the Spirit drove them out into the street, where pilgrims from every corner of the empire listened in bewilderment, wondering how a bunch of backwater Galileans could suddenly become such gifted cross-cultural communicators. Those who heard the Spirit-filled Apostles didn’t know whether to marvel or sneer, to shout “Alleluia!” or say, “Get lost!” But if we were to keep reading, past the end of our lection, we would see that the “Alleluias” won the day.  3,000 people were baptized and welcomed to the church.

When we hear the very familiar story of Pentecost, we like to focus on the sensational details: violent wind, tongues of flame, the sound of many languages, the astonishment of the crowd. But this year, I’ve been thinking less about the special effects and more about the disciples. Ten days earlier, they were anxious and visionless, waiting in Jerusalem to find out what was next. They hadn’t always excelled in their discipleship. They longed for greatness, expressed big doubts, and were generally cluelessness. They slept when they should have been praying. They ran away when the guards came to take Jesus into custody. Don’t forget Peter’s three denials. But when the Holy Spirit filled the disciples on Pentecost, they were galvanized in Christ’s purpose. On Pentecost, the disciples went from fearful failed followers to a dynamic force for good, propelled in God’s purpose by the power of the Holy Spirit.

In her book Sailboat Church: Helping Your Church Rethink Its Mission and Practice, former moderator of the General Assembly Joan Gray points out that the boat was the earliest symbol for the church. In the first century, there were two types of boats: rowboats and sailboats. Rowboats are driven by human power. Sailboats harness wind power. Joan Gray says that on Pentecost the Holy Spirit moved the disciples along as the wind moves a sailboat. The Spirit drew together a diverse group of men and women into a strong, unified community, capable of unexpected good. If the disciples had trusted in their own limited power to bring about God’s purpose, it would have been a recipe for failure; there would be no church. But with the Spirit’s help, great things could unfold.

Presbyterians tend to think that the Spirit doesn’t work with the bold force of Pentecost anymore, but Joan Gray says it does. The question facing every congregation is, “Will we row or will we sail?” If we row, we trust in our own strength, wisdom, and abilities to achieve our ministry. That’s a recipe for burnout and dwindling resources. I suspect that some of us, over the years, have known how that feels. But if we choose to be a sailboat church, if we trust that God’s Spirit can guide and empower us, then we find that we are able to do more than we ever could have dreamed. Pentecost begs the question, “Keep rowing or let the wind fill your sails?” I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather hoist the sail than man the oars.

What does sailboat ministry look like? I think our garden project is a good example. Fourteen years ago, the Holy Spirit took our prayer and discernment and launched us on a continuing adventure that has blessed us and our neighbors. A little like those who sneered at the disciples on Pentecost, not everyone thought our impossible dream was a good idea. In fact, when I approached the board of the Food Pantry, they said no one who comes to the pantry would eat our vegetables. Then, they told us that they wouldn’t distribute what we grew because they would just be throwing out a lot of rotting produce, week after week. If our impossible dream was going to happen, we would have to host our own free farm stand, outside the food pantry, on Saturday mornings. It was disappointing, but we didn’t let that dump the wind from our sails.

As we got underway, there were blessings that told us we were on the right path. It was a hot, sunny summer, and the harvest was wildly abundant. Those food pantry patrons loved the fresh produce. On most mornings, we ran out, and when we didn’t, folks at church on Sunday were eager to relieve us of our abundance. Some weeks, we even had extra to share at the DeChantal or Lake Flower Apartments. Hosting our own farm stand was the biggest blessing of all. We made new friends. Some came to the pantry week in and week out. They told us their stories. Others came in times of crisis. They told us their stories, too. All expressed appreciation for our care and concern, our willingness to meet them where they were at with the good news of fresh produce, God’s love, and an occasional fervent prayer.

Over the past fourteen years of gardening, the Spirit has continued to fill our sails in ways that we never could have imagined. We developed a close relationship with the Food Pantry, those same people who sneered at our impossible dream. In fact, a number of our members now serve on the board of directors. That growing bond found fresh expression as we welcomed the pantry to a beautiful new space in our building, where the number of people who are served has doubled. Beyond the Food Pantry, we’ve connected with local gardeners and commercial growers who sometimes contribute their own veggies to our efforts. The latest dynamic of our garden mission isn’t about the veg. It’s the flowers. Last summer, we sent an abundance of bouquets out into the community every Sunday to bless our homes and our neighbors. 

I’m not saying that the garden isn’t hard work. We’ve had aching backs. We’ve been bitten by bugs. We’ve struggled with slugs. But by the power of the Holy Spirit, we have been blessed and been a blessing, more than we ever could have imagined when we first dreamed our impossible dream.

Shane Claiborne, who wrote The Irresistible Revolution and inspired our gardening efforts, says that the Spirit is always calling Christians to new dreams. Beyond his community organizing in NE Philly, Shane has launched initiatives that address some of the most significant moral issues of our time: toxically partisan politics, gun violence, Christian nationalism, and the death penalty. If Shane were with us this Pentecost, he might ask us, “What’s next?” How does the Spirit continue to call us to come alongside hurting neighbors in ways that make a difference?

Come, Holy Spirit, come! Fill our sails, and send us forth in your purpose.

Resources:

Joan Gray. Sailboat Church: Helping Your Church Rethink Its Mission and Practice. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Shane Claiborne. The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. New York: Harper Collins, 2006.

Frank L. Crouch. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 24, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 2:1-21 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Amy G. Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 9, 2019. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 2:1-21 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Debra J. Mumford. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 31, 2020. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 2:1-21 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Acts 2:1-13

2When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

5Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

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A Time to Wait

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Time to Wait” Acts 1:1-11

for all the Moms out there

Waiting isn’t easy. Just ask any Mom. She waited through nine months of pregnancy. The first trimester brought big changes. Breasts tender. Taste and smell heightened. Early morning nausea. Hormone-induced mood swings, headaches, and even acne. Don’t forget the digestive challenges – bloating, gas, and constipation.

The second trimester was better. But, oh, the appetite! Eating for two or sending the spouse out for late-night ice cream and pickles. The leg cramps, stuffy nose, and heartburn kicked in. An ever-growing abdomen turned an innie bellybutton into an outie. Big ligaments in hips, groin, and abdomen stretched uncomfortably to accommodate the growing womb. The stretch marks appeared, no matter how much cocoa butter was applied.

The third trimester was the homestretch. The baby’s kicks felt like an internal tap dance. Sleep was hard to come by. Every restroom was a welcome pitstop. The wall of exhaustion followed even simple efforts, like walking the dog or shopping for groceries. Braxton Hicks contractions launched a torrent of worry—is this it? We won’t even go into the final week or the actual delivery. Suffice it to say that Moms can affirm the words of the late rocker Tom Petty, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

In today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus told his followers to wait in Jerusalem for the promise of the Father. Jesus didn’t even give his friends a timeline. He just told them to stay put and wait for God to take action.

I’m sure that the disciples didn’t like the prospect of waiting any more than a pregnant woman does. In the forty days since the resurrection, Jesus had been with his friends, interpreting the scriptures, and helping them to see his suffering and death as part of God’s ultimate plan for salvation.  Jesus’ friends had gotten accustomed to having the risen Lord around. Perhaps they even hoped he would stay forever. That’s why they asked, “Is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” They hoped that Jesus would use his holy power to rout the Romans and restore David’s Kingdom. Jesus put a damper on their hopes and ambition.  The only power the apostles would get was the holy power that the Spirit would bring. Until the Spirit’s arrival, they needed to stay put and wait – without him.

According to our reading, as Jesus ascended to the Father, the disciples stood around looking up. The Bible scholars like to say that the exaltation of Jesus’ ascension vindicates the humiliation of the crucifixion. But for the disciples, I suspect that watching their friend disappear felt just as frightening and uncomfortable as it was exhilarating and awe-inspiring. Returning to the upper room and waiting for an unspecified period of time for the next big thing may have made the disciples feel as restless and anxious as a Mom in her thirty-ninth week of pregnancy.

Of course, we don’t like waiting any more than our pregnant Moms or the post-Ascension disciples did. To be human is to wait. There’s the incidental waiting of every day: for the microwave to finish cooking the popcorn, for the cashier to ring us through at the Grand Union, for the last night of frost so that we can plant the garden. And there is tougher waiting: for responses to our college applications, for our savings to reach that perfect point for retirement, for the doctor to call with test results. Then there’s existential waiting: We wait for the nations to beat their swords into plowshares; We wait for the world to wake up to the growing climate crisis; we wait (like the disciples) for the coming Kingdom, when we shall at last live into God’s perfect plan for creation. To live is to wait, even though we don’t like it very much, even though it can make us impatient and frustrated, annoyed and angry.

We don’t like to hear that waiting is part of God’s plan. Scripture is filled with stories of folks forced to wait, not very patiently. Abram and Sarai were a couple of childless Arameans when God told them to head to Israel so that God could make a great nation of them. God didn’t tell them that they would both be old as dirt and good as dead by the time baby Isaac arrived. When God led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, the people had visions of soon settling in a land of milk and honey. No one told them it would take forty years to get there. David, who would become Israel’s greatest king, may have been anointed for leadership as a shepherd boy, but he would be a grizzled veteran of many battles before he would wear the crown. The Hebrew people had to wait through half a century of exile in Babylon. That’s why Isaiah had to remind them, “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall rise up on wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary; they shall walk and not grow faint.”

If waiting is part of God’s plan, then it stands to reason that it must have a purpose. Maybe Abram and Sarai needed to be that old before they trusted God to provide. The Israelites needed forty years in the wilderness to learn those ten commandments and leave the ways of Egypt behind. David needed all those years of struggle and persecution to unite the tribes of Israel into a mighty nation. The exiles needed a long time-out from the Promised Land to understand the generosity of God and the goodness of a life lived in righteousness.

So, when the disciples were told to wait without Jesus for what God would do next, the most discerning among them may have thought, “Aha! There’s a reason for this.” If we were to continue to read in the Acts of the Apostles, we’d learn that the disciples followed Jesus’ instruction to return to Jerusalem. They headed to the upper room where they were staying. There they did a lot of praying, along with the women. They realized that, without Judas, they weren’t complete. They needed a twelfth disciple. After much debate and the casting of lots, they chose Mathias.

We can trust that there were other things that happened in those ten days of waiting. There were shared meals and the goodness of community. There was the telling of memories and the joy that came with remembering all that Jesus had said and done. They realized that without God’s will and work, they would never fill those big sandals, but they trusted that somehow God could be at work to make them more. By day ten, they had stopped being disciples and they had become something new. Something poised on the edge of action. The waiting was hard, but it was important.

On this Mother’s Day, the Moms among us can testify to both the challenges of those nine months of pregnancy and the importance of the waiting time. Yes, their bodies needed to change to prepare for the monumental task of giving birth. Yet those nine months were also filled with dreaming and planning. There was news to share, first with that inner circle of family and confidantes and then with others. There was work to do: a nursery to prepare, clothes to buy, little sweaters to knit, the huge supply of diapers to squirrel away. There were childbirth classes, lessons learned from their own mothers, and all the doctor’s visits. There was the deepening bond of marriage as the two who had been made one would soon become a family. There were prayers, many, many prayers. Somewhere along the way, those women stopped being whom they had always been. They changed; they transformed into something more. They became Moms. The waiting was hard, but it was important.

We don’t like waiting any more than our pregnant Moms or the post-Ascension disciples did, but I think the convergence of Mother’s Day and Ascension Sunday can help us to see our waiting times in a new light. As we do, we just may feel a little less impatient and frustrated, annoyed and angry. Yes, the waiting is the hardest part; yet, maybe we need to wait. Maybe we aren’t ready yet. There may be a lesson we have still to learn, a self-understanding that is yet to develop, a worldview that we cannot see, a God-view that is yet to be disclosed. One day, we’ll get it. We’ll trust more and grumble less, knowing that God is faithful. We’ll be transformed, even as we wait. We’ll grow—slowly, achingly, beautifully—into the people God created us to be. May it be so.

Resources

Nicole Harris. “Your Pregnancy Symptoms Week by Week” in Parents, October 23, 2022. Accessed online at Your Pregnancy Symptoms Week by Week (parents.com)

Kristi Walker. “What Does It Mean to Wait on the Lord?” in Christianity.com, June 24, 2022. Accessed online at What Does it Mean to Wait on the Lord? (christianity.com)

Frank L. Crouch. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 5, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 1:1-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

F. Scott Spencer. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 9, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 1:1-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

William Barclay. Acts 1:1-11 in The Acts of the Apostles (The New Daily Bible Study). Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

Acts 1:1-11

1In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning 2until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. 3After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. 4While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father. “This,” he said, “is what you have heard from me; 5for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”

6So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. 8But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” 9When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. 10While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. 11They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

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Abiding in Christ

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Abiding in Christ” John 15:1-8

Last week, our gospel reading invited us to consider Jesus the Good Shepherd. This week, John’s gospel brings us another of Jesus’ bold statements of identity, “I am the true vine.” Herding sheep and tending a vineyard are tasks far removed from our daily experience, but these agricultural metaphors would have been familiar to Jesus’ listeners. In Jesus’ world, vineyards were an essential part of the landscape. Grapes were eaten as fresh fruit, dried into raisins, and mashed into jams. Grapes were turned into wine, sweet syrup, and vinegar. Vineyards passed from generation to generation within families. As fruit ripened, whole communities pitched in with all-hands-on-deck to bring in the harvest.

When Jesus told his disciples, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” he was alluding to grafting, a vineyard practice that is as important in the wine industry today as it was for first century vine growers. Brent Young, a viticulturalist at Jordan Vineyard and Winery in Sonoma, CA, gets animated when he describes the work of grafting new varieties of grape onto old root stock. First, old grape vines, which are well-established and especially suited to the soil, are cut off, leaving a stump that is allowed to freely bleed and weep for about a week. Then a specialized team is called in. The vinedressers move along the row of cut vines, scoring each stump with a sharp knife. Next, the vinedresser slips a few small budding branches or scions into the scores. The scions are then carefully wrapped to secure their new home in the old vine. Over the following weeks, something wonderful happens, the old root stock gives life to the new scion. It grows, branches, and eventually bears new fruit.

Jesus’s words, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” were meant to comfort and exhort his friends. As Jesus spoke, it was his last evening with the disciples. He had washed his friends’ feet and shared a special meal with them. Judas had already slipped away to betray him. The disciples needed a word of wisdom to guide them through the terror that would soon grip them. Jesus was the true vine, his life revealed God’s will and word for humanity. His death would demonstrate God’s limitless love. Soon the true vine would be cut down, yet the disciples could endure because Jesus was an essential part of them. He would always be with them and, grafted into him, they could put forth miraculous new life and branch out in his purpose.

In viticulture, if the budding scion that the vinedresser attaches to the root stock loses its connection, it withers and dies. Separated from the vine, no life-giving sap can nurture and sustain it. Likewise, Jesus reminded his friends that they would need to abide in him. The Greek word for abide that Jesus used here, meinate, means to stay or remain, to live, dwell, lodge. Abiding in Jesus means cultivating an ongoing, inward, personal bond with the Lord that imparts nurture, meaning, and purpose for our lives.

We long for the meaning and purpose that come with abiding in Christ. But unlike the viticulturalists at the Jordan Vineyard and Winery in Sonoma, we don’t have an expert team of vinedressers to ensure that we keep our connection with the lifegiving true vine of the Lord. I’d like to focus on three ways that we can abide in Jesus the true vine.

Abiding in Christ means feasting upon his words in scripture, whether listening to Sunday sermons, reading the Bible, or participating in Christian Education. The late Fred Craddock, who taught preaching and New Testament at Emory University, once shared that the most influential person in his life was his Sunday school teacher, Miss Emma Stone. She gave him his first Bible and taught him to memorize scripture verses, saying “Just put it in your heart.” Miss Stone taught Fred a verse for each letter of the alphabet. Years later, Craddock reflected upon the importance of those twenty-six verses of scripture that he learned as a child, saying “I can’t think of anything, anything in all my life that has made such a radical difference as those verses. The Spirit of God brings them to mind time and time again.”

We have likewise been sustained by the abiding promises of scripture. In our bleakest moments, we find ourselves praying with the words, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for thou art with me” (Psalm 23:4). When we’ve made a mess of things and lost our way, we hold to the promise that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that whosoever believeth in him may not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). When we are feeling vulnerable or overwhelmed, we remember the words of the Apostle Paul, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13). What are the holy words that help you to abide in Christ?

We also abide through prayer. We all have stories of learning to pray. Sometimes we learn in church. Author and spiritual director Jane E. Vennard writes that although she came from a family of staunch church goers, they never prayed together. Yet every Sunday in church, she was inspired by the beautiful prayers of her pastor. He had survived childhood polio, which left him partially paralyzed, but on Sunday mornings he stood in the pulpit with the help of crutches, stretched out his arms, and lifted his face to pray with a look of pure joy. The beauty and ardor of those prayers inspired Jane to her own lifetime of prayerful connection with God.

Others among us learned to pray from family members. One woman tells the story of learning prayer from her German grandmother. Every night, she would run up the stairs to her grandmother’s room, climb into bed with her, and snuggle under the blanket while her grandmother prayed. An adult now, she says, “I don’t know what she was saying, but her words seemed full of love, just like her arms around me.”

We have similar stories of parents, grandparents, or caring friends who modeled for us a prayer-filled life. As we’ve grown, we’ve learned to make prayers of our own. We share table graces with our families. We recite the Lord’s Prayer each morning as a daily devotion. We find holy refreshment in centering prayer. We may even resort to what author Anne Lamott says are the only two prayers we will ever need to know, “Help me, help me, help me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” How has prayer equipped you to abide in Christ?

Abiding in Christ comes naturally when we are part of a community that loves and serves the Lord. I think about this church’s United Presbyterian Women, women like Evelyn Outcalt, Anna Ferree, Jan Bristol, Carroll Dixon, and Gert Bickford. They were the heartbeat of this church for many years. Most of them were already in their eighties when I came to Saranac Lake almost two decades ago, yet they still gathered monthly for fellowship and spiritual friendship. They had been woven together by years of rummage sales and potlucks, births and celebrations, family tragedies and deaths. They were there for one another with prayers and casseroles, Hallmark cards and simple kindnesses. In that faithful fellowship, they knew the abiding presence of Jesus.

The UPW may be no more, but we continue to find Jesus in this church community. We abide in Christ as we gather each Sunday morning to praise and worship him. We abide in Christ with singing as harmonies are learned and voices blend to the glory of God. We abide in Christ when we grapple together with the big questions of faith in Bible and book studies. We abide in Christ with the fellowship of Coffee Hour, camp outs, and picnics. We abide as we merge our gifts for leadership and care as elders and deacons. How have we abided, growing closer to God and one another in the body of Christ?

Jesus taught his friends that as they abided in him, they would bear fruit. Our growing identity as branches of the true vine is revealed in fruitful works and ministries that reveal the love of Christ to others. When we are grafted into the true vine, we work together to serve others. We find ourselves teaching Sunday School, extending Coffee Hour hospitality, and cooking healthy meals for friends in tough times. When we are grafted into Christ, we serve our vulnerable neighbors. We grow produce in the church garden and share it at the Food Pantry. We pray fervently for folks in every kind of need with the prayer chain. We support neighbors in crisis with the Deacons’ Fund. We help vulnerable world neighbors, like the widows of Mzuzu, through the Women of Grace. As we abide in Christ, his ministry finds new life in us, and the world is blessed by that good fruit.

We may never be viticulturalists, but we have been grafted into the true vine. We are the branches. May we abide in Jesus with scripture, prayer, and the blessing of Christian community. And may we bear good fruit to the glory of God and for the good of our neighbors.

Resources

Jane E. Vennard. “Learning to Pray,” The Alban Institute at Duke Divinity School, July 24, 2006. Accessed online at alban.org.

Brent Young. “Field Grafting Grapevines,” wine education video, 2012. Jordan Vineyard & Winery. Accessed online at Field Grafting Grapevines | How Grapes are Grafted to Change Varieties | Wine Education Videos (youtube.com)

Robert M. Brearley. “Homiletical Perspective on John 15:1-11” in Feasting on the Gospels, John, vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2015.

Luis Menendez-Antuña. “Exegetical Perspective on John 15:1-11” in Feasting on the Gospels, John, vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2015. Karoline Lewis. “Commentary on John 15:1-8” in Preaching This Week, April 28, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on John 15:1-8 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

John 15:1-8

15”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. 2He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. 3You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.

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Good Shepherds

/ reverendjoannwhite / 2 Comments

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Good Shepherds” John 10 and 1 John 3:16-24

There are 35.3 million refugees in our world, global neighbors who have been forced to flee their homes and cross borders in search of safety and a future. A further 62.5 million people are internally displaced, still residing within their country of origin but homeless. 10 million people are asylum seekers. For them, going home would mean certain death. Last year saw the largest single-year increase in the forced displacement of people in modern history, more even than in the chaos of the Second World War.

4.5 million people of Sudan have been forced to flee amid civil violence. Awad decided to flee to the neighboring village of Mafot when fighting erupted in his hometown. His 80-year-old mother Dawa was too frail to make the two-day journey by foot, so Awad hid her in the bush for three days while he moved his wife and nine children to safety. Awad returned for his mother and carried her to Mafot. After several months, the artillery shells again began to fall. Awad’s family fled further. For 15 days, Awad carried his elderly mother and his daughter Zainab on his back, until they reached the border crossing into South Sudan. Awad’s family now lives with 56,000 other refugees in the Gendrassa camp. Awad knows he will never go home, but he hopes for a day when he will again farm.

The civil conflict in Syria is now in its 14th year. Syrians account for 20% of the world’s refugee population with 6.5 million people hosted in 131 countries. Within Syria, 13.5 million people, more than half of the population, are displaced. Yehia is a Syrian farmer, who raised wheat and barley near the city of Hama. Before the civil war, Yehia says that the family had “the best life.” But in 2017, fighting destroyed their family home. Yehia’s 10-year-old son and one-year-old daughter were killed along with five other family members. Rescuers pulled his four-year-old girl Shahad from the rubble and rushed her to a local clinic, where an overworked medic stitched her badly lacerated face. They then fled for the border. On the way, they were stopped at dozens of checkpoints, where they feared being detained and imprisoned. Seventeen hours later, after midnight, they arrived in Lebanon with nothing but a suitcase. Now at a refugee camp in Lebanon, Yehia is doing what he can to support the surviving members of his family.

In its first year, the Russian invasion drove eight million people out of Ukraine. Almost four million Ukrainians are internally displaced, driven from their homes by violence. Elena Yurchuk worked as a nurse in the northern town of Chernihiv. She tended the injured in a hospital that overflowed with the wounded and dying, even as the Russian bombs fell around them. When the hospital was reduced to rubble, Elena, like many of her neighbors, fled for her life. In a hastily packed car, Elena and her family set out for the Romanian border town of Suceava. Along the way, a car with a young family that followed them was blown up. Elena says, “I don’t know if I have a home or not. Our city is under siege and we barely escaped.”

In a world where 108 million people live the precarious life of refugees and the displaced, the promise of a Good Shepherd sounds especially sweet. When Jesus chose the metaphor of the Good Shepherd to describe himself and his ministry, he drew on a favorite image from the world of the ancient Near East. Kings, emperors, and religious leaders were characterized as shepherds of the people.  Good shepherds protected their people from foreign invaders, provided food in times of famine, took particular care of vulnerable widows and orphans, and maintained justice in the land.  Bad shepherds were more like wolves.  They profited at the people’s expense by conscripting men for endless warfare, taxing villages to pay for imperial luxuries, neglecting the widow and orphan, and selling justice to the highest bidder.  The Hebrew scriptures, whether we are reading the twenty-third psalm or the Prophet Ezekiel (34), affirm that God is the best shepherd, and God longs for a world where people are shepherded with compassion and infinite care – with abundant pastures, flowing streams, protection from enemies, and safety even in the presence of death.

Jesus tells us that he is the Good Shepherd, sent by God to care for God’s people.  Jesus’ life was an object lesson in good shepherding. He worked miracles of healing that brought new life to even the most hopeless of cases.  He fed hungry crowds abundantly, multiplying scanty provisions to satisfy multitudes.  Jesus specially cared for the most vulnerable members of the flock, widows and children, lepers and demoniacs.  Jesus sought and saved the lost. He dined with social refugees, like sinners, tax collectors, and prostitutes. In Jesus, we saw the perfect fulfillment of God’s promise to raise up a messianic Good Shepherd to redeem the lost, lonely, hurting, and oppressed people of Israel. 

Perhaps Jesus’s good shepherding was strengthened by his own experience of vulnerability. As refugees, Jesus’s family fled Bethlehem for the safe haven of Egypt, just one step ahead of Herod’s death squad. A homeless rabbi, Jesus lamented that foxes had holes, birds had nests, yet he had no place to lay his head. A target of powerful religious and political enemies, Jesus endured the criticism of scribes and Pharisees, elders and priests. He suffered the insults, torture, and injustice of Herod and Pilate. Jesus, our Good Shepherd, knew first hand a world where bad shepherds called the shots, and he longed to set it straight.

In a world where refugees and displaced people abound, the Good Shepherd reminds us that we cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering of our global neighbors. We belong to one another, just as we belong to God. Jesus told his friends that he had other sheep, that did not belong to their fold. Those other sheep listened for his voice, and he longed to welcome them. Whether we call Saranac Lake our home, we shelter like Awad in the Gendrassa Camp of South Sudan, we seek safety like Yehia in Lebanon, or like Elena we are on the run from war-torn Ukraine, we are a single global flock, loved by a sovereign God. Professor Gennifer Benjamin Brooks of Garrett Evangelical Seminary says that we cannot love the shepherd without loving the flock, in all the diversity of our world.

Being a member of the Good Shepherd’s flock becomes a call to action, to work for the help and healing of our world. We are summoned to the task of shepherding, of living with and for the best interest of others. Jesus tells us that the Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. Indeed, on a lonely cross, stationed between two common criminals, beaten and bloodied, subjected to the verbal abuse of jeering crowds, the good shepherd laid down his life for the flock and reconciled us to God and one another.

In his first letter, the Apostle John characterized the Christian life as living for others, writing, “We know love by this, that Jesus laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” That imperative to act has prompted this church to give generously to One Great Hour of Sharing, lace up our sneakers and stride out for CROP Walk, and advocate for humanitarian parole for the Hamidullah Family languishing in Kabul, Afghanistan. All are ministries that serve the most vulnerable members of the world’s flock. The more we listen to and follow the shepherd’s voice, the more we live with his care and compassion, the more our world begins to resemble that holy Kingdom where the Good Shepherd reigns triumphant and eternal. 

We, who follow the Good Shepherd, seek a different kind of future for the exiled and displaced. We long to build a world where the global flock knows its belovedness and belongingness. It will be a world where Awad plants fields of green and his family puts down roots. It’s a world where Yehia and the war-ravaged people of Syria go back to ancestral homes amid the blessing of peace. It’s a world where Elena returns to the mundane duties of nursing in Ukraine, safe from the blast of bombs. May we make it so.

I’d like to close this message with “A Prayer to the Shepherd” written by Andrew King, who blogs at “A Poetic Kind of Place.”

O Lord our Shepherd,

may your flock not want

in the refugee camps

of Yarmouk, of Darfur, of Dadaab.

May life-giving pastures of nourishment be theirs

in Sudan, in Niger, in Chad.

May waters of peacefulness and healing flow

in Somalia, in Syria, in Ukraine.

And may souls be restored in our own cities and towns

where violence and hunger still live.

O Lord our Shepherd,

death shadows the valleys

and the houses and hills of our lands.

May the strength of your grace and

the assurance of your love

ever with us and ever embracing,

bring comfort to the grieving and alone.

May there be a table of reconciliation prepared

where enemies may sit down in peace

and may the cup of joy overflow for those

whose suffering has been their drink.

Let your goodness and mercy attend your flock,

O Shepherd, our Lord,

and may all your flock dwell

in the unity of your love

as long as life endures.

Resources:

Andrew King. “A Prayer to the Shepherd” in A Poetic Kind of Place, April 10, 2016. Accessed online at https://earth2earth.wordpress.com/tag/the-good-shepherd/

USA for UNHCR. “Refugee Statistics” in Refugee Facts 2024. Accessed online at Refugee Statistics | USA for UNHCR (unrefugees.org)

–. “Refugee Stories: Mapping a Crisis.” The Choices Program, Brown University Department of History. Accessed online at www.choices.ed

Stephen McGrath. “Ukraine refugees tell harrowing tales even as numbers ease” in The Associated Press, March 13, 2022. Accessed online at Ukraine refugees tell harrowing tales even as numbers ease | AP News.

Lucy Lind Hogan. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, April 29, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Gennifer Benjamin Brooks. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, April 25, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Susan Hedahl. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, May 3, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

John 10:1-26

10“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. 2The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” 6Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. 7So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. 11“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. 14I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. 16I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. 17For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. 18No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

19Again the Jews were divided because of these words. 20Many of them were saying, “He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?” 21Others were saying, “These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?”

22At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” 25Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; 26but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 

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