Faith, Not Fear

August 7, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Faith, Not Fear” Genesis 15:1-6; Luke 12:32

Ruth is afraid. Ever since she got that diagnosis, she wakes in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep. Her thoughts race. She wonders how she’ll pay the doctor’s bills. She knows how much her kids need her now – they may be grown, but, Lord, they depend upon her common sense and encouragement. She thinks about her husband Bud and wonders how he’ll get by if she doesn’t beat this. The man can barely fry an egg. With heart pounding and the acrid taste of fear in her mouth, Ruth tosses and turns.

Brad is afraid that he’ll never pass the bar exam. He wasn’t at the top of his law school class, but he worked hard and did all right. He even took one of those courses that prep you for the two-day test. But when Brad sits down to take the exam, things don’t go so well. While everyone else seems to fly through the six essays, Brad can’t concentrate or organize his thoughts, and the more he thinks about it, the more stressed he feels. He feels even worse when he begins to think about paying back his law school loans. He has failed twice. He’ll try once more, but he doesn’t feel confident.

Jenny is afraid that she’ll spend her life alone. She is shy. A middle child with two overbearing siblings, she learned to keep a low profile growing up. Her work as a researcher is solitary, and since the pandemic began, she has been working remotely. Her college friends are married with families of their own. She tried one of those dating apps, but found that the people she met didn’t share her values and had little interest in commitment. It doesn’t help that Jenny’s sister reminds her that her biological clock is ticking. Some days, Jenny feels hopeless about the future.

Abraham was afraid. He was already getting grey in the beard and long in the tooth when God called him away from his ancestral home in Ur of the Chaldeans. God promised Abraham and Sarah land and children, so they took a big risk and made the long journey. Along the way, there had been blessing, a land that flowed with milk and honey, flocks, prosperity, and victory. But what Abraham and Sarah really wanted, a child, remained an unfulfilled hope.

In this day and age when people may opt to not have children for any number of reasons, it may feel difficult to understand the despair and disappointment that Abraham felt. In the ancient near east, childlessness was a source of social ridicule and shame. Tradition taught that God alone governs fertility and opens and closes wombs, so a childless couple must be displeasing to the gods. This view persevered in the rabbinic tradition. In Jesus’s day, a childless man could not sit on the Sanhedrin, the governing board of the Temple. According to the Mishnah, the childless man was reckoned as if menuddeh, “cut off” from all communion with God, like one who has deliberately disregarded divine commands. Some texts consider a childless man to be already dead. From a purely practical point of view, in those days long before a social safety net, children were one’s heritage and safeguard for care and protection in old age.

Given that cultural context, we can hear the fear and hopelessness in Abraham’s voice. God tells Abraham to not be afraid. God promises that Abraham’s reward will be very great. But the patriarch laments, “O Lord God, what difference does it make what you give me for I continue childless?” The questions within Abraham’s question are, “Do you love me, God? Are you with me? Can you bless me when the world seems stacked against me?”

Fear can get the better of us. When we are afraid, our body responds powerfully. Threat kicks our hypothalmus, pituitary, and adrenal glands into overdrive. Primary stress hormones, like cortisol, adrenaline, and nonadrenaline flood our systems. Our heart rate and respiration soar. We feel the butterflies of panic. When we experience chronic fear, like illness, vocational woes, social isolation, violence, or crisis, we experience a reduction in our defenses and adaptive energy. Pretty soon, we are feeling overloaded, burned out, and fatigued. Our immune system can be compromised. Our sleep/wake cycle gets disrupted. We can’t eat—or we eat too much. Our headaches turn into migraines, muscle aches become fibromyalgia, body aches turn into chronic pain, and difficulty breathing can turn into asthma. Fear can even affect our spiritual life. Like Abraham, we may feel bitterness or confusion toward God. Like Abraham, we may struggle to trust God. We may even find it hard to be hopeful about the future.

I love how God responded to Abraham. God didn’t chastise Abraham for his ingratitude. God didn’t withdraw God’s love in an act of punishment. God didn’t treat the patriarch like a spoiled child and take away all his blessings. Instead, God took Abraham outside, into the deep dark of the night before the advent of electric lights. God called Abraham’s attention to the night sky, the milky way stretched across the heavens like a tent, a dazzling, visual symphony of stars and planets dancing across the darkness. “Take a look at this Abraham,” God promised, “This is what your progeny will one day be like.”

I suspect that Abraham felt very small beneath the night sky. To think that God, who had created that great cosmic lightshow from God’s very self, should care for Abraham! To imagine that God, who spins the whirling planets, should stand with him in the darkness and promise him a future! Surely, if the great God of the universe could do all this, then maybe Abraham could trust that God keeps God’s promises. As faith and trust swelled within the patriarch’s heart, he began to fear less. His heart slowed, his breath became even, the butterflies of panic in his gut flew away. There beneath the arc of the heavens, Abraham felt peace.

It didn’t happen overnight. It took fourteen more years. There were some rocky moments and crises of faith along the way. But in God’s time, Abraham and Sarah conceived. They were old as dirt and good as dead when their son was born. They named him Isaac, which means God laughs, and Abraham and Sarah laughed, rejoicing in the faithfulness of God.

We all contend with fear. Like Ruth, we have sleepless nights plagued by big and little fears. Like Brad, we may fear that our dreams just won’t come true. Like Jenny, we may fear the social isolation and disconnection that are characteristic of our world today. What are you afraid of?

Abraham reminds us that faith is the remedy for fear. Jesus knew that. Indeed, that’s why Jesus encouraged his disciples with the words, “Fear not little flock, for it is your heavenly Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” We might write those words off as an empty promise if they weren’t spoken by Jesus, who rose above fear to face head-on the agony of the cross and reveal to us the limitless love that God holds for us. God, who spins the whirling planets, God, who raised Jesus from the grave, God is more than a match for our fears. Let that truth swell your heart and bring you peace. Have faith. Fear less.

Ruth decided that she wasn’t going to allow her fear to get the better of her. She likes to tell folks that when you can’t sleep, don’t count sheep. Talk to the shepherd. She still feels overwhelmed from time to time, but those late-night times of prayer remind her that God is powerful, even when she is not.

When Brad realized that his fear was jeopardizing his vocational future, he went to his pastor about it. The pastor referred Brad to a counselor who has helped Brad add a few tools to his belt to help wrangle that overwhelming fear, like meditation, breathing exercises, and visualization. Brad and his pastor prayed together, and Brad has been added to the church’s prayer chain. He knows that when he next takes the exam, he’ll be better equipped, and he’ll have some caring folks praying for him, too.

One of Jenny’s married friends invited her to come to church. Jenny is still shy, but in the shared acts of worship, service, and learning, she has found that she is not alone. There are other folks who have the same values. They like her for who she is and make her feel welcomed. In their kindness and love, Jenny can feel God’s love for her. When Jenny’s sister reminds her that her biological clock is ticking, Jenny says that Jesus never had kids, but he left quite a legacy.

May our faith cast out fear.

Resources:

Judith Reesa Baskin. “Infertile Wife in Rabbinic Judaism” in Shalvi/Hyman Encyclopedia of Jewish Women. 31 December 1999. Jewish Women’s Archive. https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/infertile-wife-in-rabbinic-judaism

MJP Atchison. “Children: A divine inheritance” in Religion News Service, June 18, 1996. https://religionnews.com/1996/06/18/commentary-children-a-divine-inheritance/

Jaime Rosenberg. The Effects of Chronic Fear on a Person’s Health. In AJMC, Nov. 11, 2017. https://www.ajmc.com/view/the-effects-of-chronic-fear-on-a-persons-health

Joe Pierre. “How Does Fear Influence Risk Assessment and Decision-Making?” In Psychology Today, July 15, 2020. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/psych-unseen/202007/how-does-fear-influence-risk-assessment-and-decision-making

Sara M. Koenig. “Commentary on Genesis 15:1-6” in Preaching This Week, August 11, 2013. https://workingpreacher.com

Callie Plunkett-Brewton. “Commentary on Genesis 15:1-6” in Preaching This Week, August 11, 2019. https://workingpreacher.com

Genesis 15:1-6

1 After these things the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision, “Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.” ²But Abram said, “O Lord God, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?” ³And Abram said, “You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir.” ⁴But the word of the Lord came to him, “This man shall not be your heir; no one but your very own issue shall be your heir.” ⁵He brought him outside and said, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your descendants be.” ⁶And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.

Property Problems

July 31, 2022August 2, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Property Problems” Luke 12:13-21

Rising inflation has us doing a double-take at the cost of groceries. The war in Ukraine has sent gas prices soaring and made it painful at the pump. Market volatility has not been kind to our 403-Bs and 401-Ks. Yet, despite the economic pinch that we are feeling, we live in the world’s most affluent society. The US has had the world’s largest economy since 1871. With a GDP of $25.3 trillion, we far outpace our nearest competitor, China, at $19.9 trillion. The US has the largest population of ultra-high net worth individuals in the world, including 724 billionaires. Even COVID-19 hasn’t put a dent in the lives of the super-wealthy. According to Forbes Magazine, the US added 98 new billionaires in 2020 and the net worth of America’s billionaires surged 62% during the pandemic to $4.7 trillion.

All that affluence may not always be good for us. Several studies have shown that wealth may be at odds with empathy and compassion. Research published in the journal Psychological Science found that people of lower economic status were better at reading others’ facial expressions—an important marker of empathy—than wealthier people. Having more resources can also cause bad behavior. In fact, UC Berkeley researchers found that even fake money could make people’s behavior rude and inappropriate. When two students played Monopoly, one having been given a great deal more Monopoly money than the other, the wealthier player expressed initial discomfort, but then went on to act aggressively, taking up more space and moving his pieces more loudly, and even taunting the player with less money. Wealth may also cause a sense of moral entitlement. Another UC Berkeley study found that in San Francisco—where the law requires cars to stop at crosswalks for pedestrians to pass—drivers of luxury cars were four times less likely than those in less expensive vehicles to stop and allow pedestrians the right of way. They were also more likely to cut off other drivers. Most troubling of all, children from affluent households are at significantly greater risk for depression, anxiety, and addiction, perhaps due to greater pressure to excel, succeed, and step into the big affluent shoes of their parents.

Today’s reading from Luke’s gospel presents us with one of Jesus’s toughest teachings about the dangers of affluence. Someone in the crowd asked Jesus to arbitrate a family dispute about wealth. The fact that the questioner asked Jesus to rule in his favor, “Tell my brother to share the inheritance with me,” tells us that something isn’t quite right here. Jesus’ warning, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed” suggests that someone’s attitude toward the inheritance was dangerously close to idolatry. The Greek word here for greed, pleonexia, means an insatiable desire for more that spawns avarice.

Jesus next told the Parable of the Rich Fool, an exaggerated, cautionary tale about the danger that may accompany wealth. The rich man in the story had property problems. First, he had an inordinate love of stuff. When a windfall crop presented him with a surplus, he hatched a plan to build bigger barns rather than part with any of his abundance. It also seems that he loved his stuff more than he loved his neighbor. Tony Campolo, who taught for many years at Eastern College and Seminary, says that there are about 900 teachings in scripture about the importance of sharing our abundance. But the rich man didn’t see his bumper crop as a blessing for anyone but himself. What’s more, the man didn’t see God as the source of his windfall. His abundance was the blessed outcome of productive seed, fertile soil, ample rainfall, long days of sunshine, and shelter from pests and disease, all things beyond his power and control. Yet the man’s greatest mistake was his attitude about the future. He thought he had safeguarded his future by laying up his harvest. But the future belongs to God—all life comes from God and all life returns to God in God’s time. It’s no wonder that Jesus concluded his harsh and uncomfortable story with God calling the man a fool.

It’s hard to know what to do with Jesus’s tough teachings about the dangers of wealth. I don’t believe that Jesus thought that wealth is evil. Some of the people who surrounded and supported Jesus in his ministry were wealthy. Joanna the Myrrh-bearer, who waited at the foot of the cross and came to the empty tomb, was the wife of one of the most affluent and powerful men in Israel, Chuzza the steward of King Herod. Nicodemus was also wealthy and influential. In John’s gospel, Nicodemus brought 100 pounds of myrrh and aloes to prepare Jesus’s body for the grave. A one-pound jar of myrrh cost a year’s wages. Imagine the wealth that Nicodemus had to be able to purchase 100 pounds of the precious stuff. So, Jesus didn’t have it in for rich people. When we look at Joanna and Nicodemus, we see people who used their abundance in service to Jesus and in pursuit of the Kingdom of God. So perhaps this uncomfortable Parable of the Rich Fool isn’t a condemnation of wealth so much as it is fresh perspective for discipleship in a world that prizes affluence above all else.

The challenge for us is to redefine how we relate to our possessions. Jesus would first invite us to question how our society prizes possessions. We live in a culture that tells us that stuff can meet our deepest needs. Over the course of a lifetime, the average television viewer will spend a year watching commercials – that’s right, a year of our lives wasted on advertisements, designed to tempt us to go buy stuff. It’s no wonder that we can get caught up in a vicious cycle of consumption, buying to meet the needs that advertisers tell us we must fill. Social theorists call this relentless drive to consume affluenza, as if it’s a disease, “the bloated, sluggish, unfulfilled feeling that results from efforts to keep up with the Joneses.”

In a world dominated by affluenza, Jesus would stress that our deepest needs for meaning and purpose are never met by things. Those needs are only met by God. What really matters in life: love, acceptance, forgiveness, grace, salvation, relationship, and dignity, all are found in God—all free of charge. When we grasp this fact, life finds true meaning, and we are liberated from that vicious cycle of consumption. We begin to relate to our relative affluence in ways that allow us to make different choices.

Jesus would also have us consider how our relative affluence shapes how we relate to others. Augustine taught that God gives us possessions to use and people to love. Sin is when we get that the wrong way around. We use people and we love possessions. After all, Jesus taught that the greatest commandment is to love God and neighbor, not God and stuff. Our affluence, then, is meant to be a resource in expressing our love for God and neighbor. That’s where Tony Campolo’s 900 scripture references come in handy, inspiring us to share a tithe of our income, provide for the widow, care for the orphan, and shelter the refugee. Could we think about our relative affluence as a whole lot of love, ready to make a difference in the world? Now, that’s a paradigm shift. It’s the antithesis of affluenza and the heart of Christian discipleship. Here is more good news: one of the best ways to cut the risk of depression, anxiety, and addiction in affluent kids is to model for them this sort of compassionate neighborliness and to get them involved in serving others and connecting with all kinds of people.

Finally, Jesus would have us remember the true source of our affluence and blessing. The rich man thought he was the architect of his fortune and the guarantor of his future. But Jesus reminds us that God is the source of our blessing, and the future is held in God’s hands. That doesn’t mean that we don’t work hard for what we have, but ultimately all we have and all we are—the heart that beats, the air we breathe, the abilities that we parlay into achievement—all these are God-given gifts.

Imagine if we took a break from the commercials that cultivate our appetite for stuff and instead spent a few moments each day counting our blessings and acknowledging them as a gift from God. It would be a profoundly reorienting and life changing discipline. We would find fulfillment and delight in the everyday miracles of watching a child sleep, harvesting lettuce from the garden, or glimpsing a bass jump out of the water in pursuit of its dinner. If God graces our daily experience with such profound gifts, then we can trust that the future, which is beyond our grasp, will also contain good gifts, whether we are talking about this life or the next. We can be freed to live in gratitude and grace.

Two words that I hope to never hear coming out of the Lord’s mouth are, “You fool!” How about you? In the coming weeks, may Jesus and his parable of the rich fool inspire us to make some different choices when it comes to our affluence. May we find the cure for affluenza in the freely given gifts of God. May we dare to share our abundant blessings in love of God and neighbor. And may we trust that God’s future will abound with daily blessings.

Resources:

Richard Denniss. Curing Affluenza: How to Buy Less Stuff and Save the World. New York: Black Publishing, 2017.

Tony Campolo. Curing Affluenza. Video curriculum.

Scott Simon. Affluenza. KCTS Seattle: Oregon Public Broadcasting, 2014.

David Lose, “What Money Can and Can’t Do,” in Dear Working Preacher, July 29, 2013. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=2668

Chase Peterson-Withorn. “Nearly 500 People Became Billionaires During the Pandemic Year” in Forbes Magazine, Apr 6, 2021. https://www.forbes.com/sites/chasewithorn/2021/04/06/nearly-500-people-have-become-billionaires-during-the-pandemic-year/?sh=73cc448925c0

Sarah Ruiz-Grossman. “A New Billionaire Was Created Every 30 Hours During the Pandemic” in Huffpost, May 22, 2022. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/billionaire-wealth-covid-pandemic-oxfam_n_6283e951e4b04353eb0a526d

Marcus Lu. “What Does It Take to Be Wealthy in America?” in Visual Capitalist, July 5, 2022. https://www.visualcapitalist.com/net-worth-to-be-wealthy-in-america-2022/

Anshool Deshmukh. “This Simple Chart Reveals the Distribution of Global Wealth” in Visual Capitalist, September 20, 2021. https://www.visualcapitalist.com/distribution-of-global-wealth-chart/

Carolyn Gregoire. “How Money Changes the Way You Think and Feel” in Greater Good Magazine, February 8, 2018. https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/how_money_changes_the_way_you_think_and_feel#:~:text=More%20money%2C%20less%20empathy%3F%20Several%20studies%20have%20shown,expressions%20%E2%80%94an%20important%20marker%20of%20empathy%E2%80%94than%20wealthier%20people. Suniya Luthar. The Mental Price of Affluence in Speaking of Psychology (interview). American Psychological Association, 2014. https://www.apa.org

Luke 12:13-21

¹³Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” ¹⁴But he said to him, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” ¹⁵And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” ¹⁶Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. ¹⁷And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ ¹⁸Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. ¹⁹And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ ²⁰But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ ²¹So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

How’s Your Prayer Life?

July 24, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — How’s Your Prayer Life? Luke 11:1-13

If you visit the John Wesley House in London, you will see that the 18^th century father of Methodism had a small walk-in closet off his bedroom. This prayer room is sometimes called “The Powerhouse of Methodism” because Wesley believed that his prayerful efforts within the closet were key to the success of his mission to the world. Wesley began each day with two hours in his closet, praying with an open Bible and a fervent heart.

19^th century Plymouth Brethren evangelist George Muller was the master of persistent prayer. By his own admission, the youthful Muller was a thief, liar, and gambler, but he attended a prayer meeting in 1825 that transformed his life. Muller committed to praying daily for five of his young friends who were far from Christ. A few months later, one of them had a conversion experience. Within two years, two more found Jesus. The fourth friend came to faith after twenty-five years. Muller died in 1898, having prayed for the fifth friend for sixty-three years and eight months. Before Muller was buried, his prayer was finally answered as the fifth friend finally committed his life to Christ.

Rosa Parks is best known as a Civil Rights activist with the courage to launch the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955 by refusing to move to the back of the bus. We are less likely to know that Rosa Parks was a person of profound faith who grounded her activism in prayer. In her book Quiet Strength, Parks writes that God assured her that she would not be alone on the bus on that fateful day. “I felt the Lord would give me the strength to endure whatever I had to face,” Parks stated, “God did away with all my fear . . . It was time for someone to stand up—or in my case, sit down.”

We all know prayer warriors, those folks who are ever eager to take it to the Lord in prayer. A trusted friend, a family member, a pastor, or a link in the local prayer chain, these are the people we turn to when we get that tough diagnosis, or there are problems on the home front, or our kids are in trouble. We trust that they will listen deeply and pray passionately, letting God know that help is needed.

Even though prayer is a cornerstone of the faithful life and we are well-acquainted with champions of prayer, we may struggle to have a meaningful, committed practice of prayer. Our calendars are so full that the only times left for prayer are those few minutes at the close of the day when we fall exhausted into bed, unable to keep our eyes open long enough to express the confessions and intercessions that we long to lift to God. When we do find the time to pray, we worry about what to say. What are the right words to get God’s attention? How specific do we need to get? How do we know that God is listening? Perhaps most daunting of all tasks is public prayer, praying out loud in a group. We might rather eat Brussels sprouts or take the garbage out than spontaneously pray in a roomful of strangers. If we were being deeply honest, we might admit that we place our trust in those prayer warriors because we believe that they have something that we don’t, as if when God was handing out the prayer power, some of us got a substandard quotient.

If it makes us feel any better, even the great Reformer Martin Luther sometimes fell short in prayer. Luther once infamously quipped, “I have so much to do today that I must spend the first three hours in prayer.” He notoriously was reported to have said that an exception should be made for those of us who struggle with prayer—we should begin our days with four hours of prayer. But in a letter to his friend Philip Melancthon, Luther confessed that he too fell short in prayer, “I sit here like a fool, and hardened in leisure, pray little, do not sigh for the church of God, yet burn in a big fire of my untamed body. In short, I should be ardent in spirit, but I am ardent in the flesh, in lust, in laziness, leisure, and sleepiness. … Already eight days have passed in which I have written nothing, in which I have not prayed or studied.”

Jesus’ disciples must have also struggled with prayer. That’s why they asked Jesus to give them a lesson on how to pray. They had noticed how vital prayer was for Jesus. The Lord seemed to find the fuel for his dynamic ministry in times of quiet communion with his heavenly Father. Before naming the twelve disciples, Jesus spent the night in prayer. While working wonders of healing or casting out demons, Jesus turned to prayer. To find the strength to endure his betrayal and execution, Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus was a man steeped in prayer.

The pattern of prayer that Jesus taught his friends is surprisingly simple. In Luke’s gospel, the Lord’s Prayer is four terse sentences. Jesus tells us to begin with praise, acknowledging the holiness of God and our longing for the coming of God’s kingdom. Then, we pray for what we truly need: sustenance to fuel our bodies/, the healing of relationships through forgiveness and a willingness to be forgiven/, and lastly, protection from life’s temptations and difficulties. According to Jesus, all we really need to pray are four simple heartfelt sentences that envision God as the source of our world, our lives, our healing, and our protection. That’s it.

It must have sounded too good to be true to the disciples. I can imagine that they cast doubtful looks at one another as Jesus disclosed the secrets of being a real prayer warrior, because Jesus followed up his lesson on prayer with two playful, pointed teachings to bring his point on prayer home. The story of the friend who comes knocking at midnight assures us that God hears our prayers and responds. The example of a parent who lovingly provides good things for his children assures us that God, our heavenly parent, always provides what is good and right for us. Jesus makes it sound so easy.

And maybe that’s the real point to Jesus’ lesson. Prayer is meant to be easy. It’s meant to be as natural as the drawing of breath, the sympathy of a friend, or the care of a parent. Maybe the trouble is that we pray from the head, looking for those eloquent words, hoping to steer the course of the world, wanting to forge a future that meets our personal vision of how things ought to be. But Jesus teaches us to pray from the heart, to pray in ways that acknowledge the greatness of God and our personal vulnerability. When we pray from the head, we expect the world to change, which is often a recipe for disappointment, but when we pray from the heart, we can expect to be changed. Heartfelt prayer coaxes us to grow into the people God created us to be. Heartfelt prayer equips us to live to the best of our ability in a world that is less than perfect and sometimes bitterly disappointing.

So, I invite us to make a fresh start on prayer this morning, to keep things simple and heartfelt. Perhaps you might even allow me to help you, guiding you in praying the way that Jesus invited us to pray. I invite you to close your eyes and bow your head as I lead you in a prayer from the heart.

First, give silent praise for the holiness and majesty of God, who stretches the heavens like a tent and puffs into our lungs the breath of life . . . We praise and thank you, God.

Allow your heart to yearn for God’s kingdom, for a world where righteousness and peace will kiss each other . . . Thy Kingdom come.

Now think about your day ahead. Ask the Lord to provide what is needed, whether it is strength or love, kindness or patience, hope or help. Trust that what is truly needed will be provided . . . Give us this day our daily bread.

Now, think of a relationship that needs mending. Perhaps there are hurt feelings, hardness of heart, or weariness of soul. Ask God to bring healing to that relationship. Trust that the Lord is already at work . . . Forgive us, O Lord, and make us a forgiving people.

Finally, consider a place of difficulty or temptation in your life. Feel the weightiness and the challenge of it. Now, ask the Lord to be your safety and protection. Remember that although you may feel weak, God is strong and God is with you . . . Keep us safe from temptation, O God, and deliver us from evil.

As we finish, we might even resolve to try this again, to make a daily discipline of doing what Jesus did. May we find the strength and the vision to live fully and faithfully through simple, heartfelt prayer.

Resources:

David Lose. “Commentary on Luke 11:1-13” in Preaching This Week, July 25, 2010. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/.

Elisabeth John. “Commentary on Luke 11:1-13” in Preaching This Week, July 28, 2013. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/.

Nivien Sarras. “Commentary on Luke 11:1-13” in Preaching This Week, July 24, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/.

Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann, eds. Luther’s Works: American Edition. 55 vols. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1955-1975.

Jared Brock. “10 Prayer Warriors Who Changed History” in Flowing Faith, June 9, 2015. Accessed online at http://www.flowingfaith.com/2015/06/10-prayer-warriors.html.

Luke 11:1-13

11 He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” 2 So he said to them, “When you pray, say:

Father, may your name be revered as holy.
May your kingdom come.
3 Give us each day our daily bread.
4 And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

5 And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, 6 for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’ 7 And he answers from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.’ 8 I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything out of friendship, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.

9 “So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 10 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. 11 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asked for[e] a fish, would give a snake instead of a fish? 12 Or if the child asked for an egg, would give a scorpion? 13 If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit[f] to those who ask him!”

Cold Water

July 17, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Cold Water” Matthew 10:40-42

“That’s some good ice tea.” It was James, in his polyester sport coat, pointy collared shirt, and freshly shined spats. James fancied himself to be the heir apparent to James Brown. Every so often during our Wednesday evening gatherings at the New York Avenue church, James would break into song and share his funkiest moves, feet shuffling almost too fast to be seen, body spinning then dropping into a split before popping back up, like magic.

James had offered his appreciation for the tea in the general direction of the tea makers, Connie and me. I was filling cups with the sweet, lemony tea, while Connie was perched on a chair, working on her latest crochet creation. The week before, I had cleaned out my yarn stash and brought Connie a big bag of odds and ends and never completed projects. If James thought he could compete with that for Connie’s attention, he had another think coming.

“Hey,” James ventured again, “Hey, Connie! I said that’s some good ice tea.” But Connie only rolled her eyes as if to say, “He’s crazy.” And he was. In fact, everyone was, in one way or another, both the guests and the hosts at the 729 Club where I volunteered.

“Connie!” I chided. She gave me a baleful look and put down her crochet hook.

“You are welcome, James,” she smiled as sugary sweet as the tea. That made James so happy that he did a little spin and bow, every bit as deft and debonair as the Godfather of Soul himself.

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones…”

“I’d like some of that brown stuff,” it was a softly spoken request. I turned away from the sink where I had been washing dishes and peered into the dim light behind me. I spied him near the open back door, swaying a little bit, looking like he was about to bolt off into the dark. I was on the reservation for my cross-cultural quarter of seminary studies. My host was Sally Big Bear, a local spiritual leader, and this was her youngest brother, Habob. I’d seen him around the edges of things but had never heard him speak. Like many of the young adults on Rosebud, he struggled with addiction.

“I’d like some of that brown stuff,” Habob repeated, no eye contact, but his body language told me he was talking about the sheet cakes that rested on the kitchen counter. Earlier, after dinner, Sally had parceled out pieces of cake to the large extended family that had come for the meal – sons and daughters, children, grandchildren, aunties, uncles, neighbors, and even seminarians.

“Brown stuff?” I puzzled, looking at the crumby remnants, and picking up a knife. “Chocolate?”

Habob’s brow furrowed, “No, not chocolate. The brown stuff?” He asked again, hopeful.

That’s when I saw it, more beige than brown, crowned with a frothy brown sugar and coconut icing. “Ah! Spice cake!” I cut a large slab, balanced it on a paper plate and shrouded it in a cocoon of saran wrap. “For you!” I said, holding it out with two hands, and Habob received it with the same sort of reverence that a child reserves for a favorite toy or stuffed animal.

“Hmmm. Brown stuff! Thanks!” he mumbled before slipping out into the South Dakota darkness with his treasure.

About three o’clock the next day we heard news that too many families get on the reservation. Habob had been found dead in the abandoned house where he lived with other addicts.

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones….”

“Lady, can you help my dog?” It was Johnny Wayne, the seven-year-old grandson of Mr. Robert. So far, Johnny Wayne had impressed us with his ability to cuss and cheat in bike races. I was in eastern Kentucky with my Youth Group. We were putting a new foundation under the back of Mr. Robert’s house. I’d spent most of the afternoon digging a ditch to lay drain tile to divert the water that would pour off Robert’s roof and under his home. Now, I was drinking cold water, as much as I could get, and sitting on the front porch taking a break.

“Lady, can you help my dog?” Johnny Wayne wanted to know. She was a big red pit bull mix with a saggy belly that told me she had had more than one litter of pups.

“What’s wrong?” I ventured warily.

“She’s got ticks.” Johnny Wayne wasn’t kidding. From ears to tail, Rosie was littered with ticks, more than I had ever seen, little and big, making a meal of her.

I confess that ticks repulse me. They’re like little insect vampires, dropping from trees or jumping out of the grass to make our lives miserable. And while I am a dog lover, I try to steer clear of anything that looks remotely like a pit bull. My reluctance must have been written all over my face as I said, “Wow. I’m not sure what you want me to do about that, Johnny Wayne.”

The little boy tried again. “C’mon, please! Help her. How would you like to be covered in ticks?”

I wouldn’t, and that’s when I realized that Johnny Wayne was good not only at swearing and cheating but also at getting grown-ups to do what he needed them to do.

“Ok.” I relented and spent the next thirty minutes picking ticks off Rosie. She rolled right over, as if she had known me all her life, while Johnny Wayne told me stories of all the good things that he was going to do with his father when he got out of prison.

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones….”

There was a big cardboard box, right on the stoop, blocking my way to the front door when I got home from work. I’d had the “brilliant” idea to leave a well-paying job back east and test the waters of a career change by serving as a VISTA, Volunteer in Service to America. Now, I was a volunteer coordinator and health educator, working out of the Jackson County, Oregon, Health Department. That meant I spent all my time touting the benefits of WIC and the Oregon Health Plan while trying to convince women to get prenatal care and immunize their children, all for a princely monthly stipend of $600, which did not go far in a community where just renting a room cost about $350. I ate a lot of rice and beans that year.

Taped to the top of the cardboard box was a note written in easily recognizable, large wobbly letters, “For Joann.” The handwriting belonged to Ivan, a Vietnam vet who suffered from PTSD. I’m not really sure how I had met Ivan. He belonged to the Seventh Day Adventist Church in town, and sometimes he would join me on Sunday afternoons for hikes up in the mountains or drives down to the coast, activities which he felt a young woman should not be doing on her own.

A box from Ivan could hold a lot of things – tracts touting the benefits of being an Adventist, pumice stones that he picked up along the banks of the Rogue River, or maybe some great thrift store find, like a Rubik’s Cube or a jigsaw puzzle, missing a few pieces. But this night, when I dragged the box inside and popped it open, I found that it was full of vegetables. There were cucumbers and tomatoes, big leafy collard greens, onions, and zucchini squash big enough to double for baseball bats. Move over beans and rice, I had just hit the fresh produce jackpot!

When I called Ivan later to thank him for his kindness, I learned that he had grown the vegetables in a little garden plot that he had down at the Adventist church. I could just picture him that summer, patiently pulling weeds, watering, and harvesting. It was without question one of the kindest things that anyone had ever done for me. But why me? I wanted to know. Ivan’s answer was heartwarming and humbling all at the same time, “Joann, the Lord would want me to do something good for you.”

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple – truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Jesus taught his followers about the importance of simple acts of kindness that we can share in the course of our everyday living. When Jesus sent his disciples out on their gospel mission, he knew that they would depend upon the kindness of strangers. Jesus also taught that when we extend hospitality to our vulnerable neighbors, the little ones of our world, we are really caring for him. Hospitality, given and received, grants us a foretaste of the world that God would have us forge. It’s a kingdom where all are welcomed, loved, and cared for. It’s a world where James will spin Connie around the dance floor, and Habob will tuck into a second slice of spice cake. Johnny Wayne will play ball with his Daddy, Rosie will be free from ticks, and the tables of the poor will abound with fresh-picked produce. I want to be a part of that world. How about you?

Matthew 10:40-42

40 “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. 41 Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, 42 and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

The Unexpected Neighbor

July 10, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Unexpected Neighbor” Luke 10:25-37

Louella Fletcher could really tell a story, and she had been spinning them all afternoon. Bob said a prayer and bid her goodbye. Louella walked with him out to the porch. As the sun had dropped, afternoon flurries had intensified into huge, fast-falling flakes. A smooth blanket of snow surrounded the house, and Bob’s Subaru was shrouded in white.

“Say, Bob,” Louella said, holding onto his arm, “Maybe you should have dinner with us and spend the night. We’re awful remote, and I don’t like the look of this.”

Bob thought about Marge and Paul back home, waiting dinner for him. He remembered his meeting, first thing in the morning. “Thanks, Louella, but I’ll be ok. I’ve got all-wheel drive.”

Louella looked as if she was on the edge of another story or a word of warning, but she shrugged and gave Bob a hug, “You take care now, pastor. Be safe.”

Bob inched along, wipers thumping, defroster rushing, headlights barely making a dent in the snowy darkness. He hesitated at the pointy corner where the main road swept to the right and the seasonal road climbed to the left. The main road was likely to be better driving, but the seasonal road shaved a good ten miles off what was proving to be a long, slow trip. “O, what the hay,” Bob said, “I imagine the Subaru and I can handle a seasonal road.” The car slowly toiled up, up, up, to the top of Hotchkiss Hill.

At the summit, Bob felt a surge of relief that soon shifted to concern. He had never noticed how sharp the descent was, no switchbacks, no guardrails, and certainly no lights way out here. Feeling like a kid on a carnival ride, all fear, butterflies, and acid reflux, he steered the car onward. About half-way down the slope, building speed, deepening snow, and an unfortunate tap on the breaks got the rear end of the Subaru slaloming back and forth. “Sweet Jesus!” Bob prayed as the car spun out of control, down into the dark, headlights flashing past huge trees. With a grinding thump, the Subaru scooted off the road and into a ditch. The rear end settled against a big white pine with a bone-jarring crack. The wipers stopped, the defroster fell silent, and the headlights went dark.

Bob thanked the Lord he was still alive and fished out his cellphone. His joy at the digital glow gave way to disappointment—no signal. Bob fished a headlamp, two handwarmers, and a granola bar out of the glovebox. He opened the warmers, gave them a shake, and slipped them into his gloves. He strapped on the headlamp over his hat. Then, he turned up the collar on his coat and stepped out into more than a foot of snow. The temperature was dropping and the wind was picking up. He debated turning back to Louella’s, but if the Subaru couldn’t handle the snowy track, then his boots surely wouldn’t. It was miles and miles to town, but if he was lucky, someone might come along and help.

Petey Freudenberg was on his way home from a day of meetings at the DEC. The ranger was more at home in the woods than in an office. He resented days like this, hours spent listening to policy wonks who wouldn’t know a mink from a fisher. As Petey’s headlights swept the darkness ahead, he glumly thought that this would be the last day he could get away with taking the shortcut on the seasonal road. It would be impassable in a matter of hours.

Not too far from the bottom of Hotchkiss Hill, Petey saw the willow-the-wisp of a headlamp, dancing along the shoulder. “Durned yuppies,” he muttered under his breath, “Come up here from the city and think they’ll have a little fun snowshoeing through a blizzard.” This imbecile took the prize, even gave him a big wave and a yell before Petey dropped the truck into low and surged off up the hill and into the night.

By the time Rhonda LaMott came along in her rig, Bob’s headlamp had failed, first growing slowly dimmer and then blinking out entirely. His trail boots really weren’t meant for this sort of weather and his feet were wet and numb. He brushed the snow from his coat and hat and ducked his head against the weather.

Rhonda had just finished plowing at the QuikMart. Folks had been resistant to a woman clearing snow—said it wasn’t ladylike. But Rhonda was good and incredibly dependable. She was headed home for the evening, but she would be back in town first thing to clear away the drifts. Rhonda was thinking about hot chocolate when she caught a glimpse of something moving on the shoulder. It was big and lumbering through the snow. A moose? A man?

About fifty yards past it, Rhonda slowed to a standstill and eyed her rearview mirror. A woman on her own in the middle of the Hotchkiss bog wasn’t safe. She checked her door locks and peered into the dark. Whatever it was, it was bellowing now and running in her direction. “Jeezum Crow!” Rhonda cursed. With her heart rising into her throat, Rhoda slid the rig into gear and sent up a shower of snow as she floored it, not daring to look back.

Now Bob was really worried. His boots squelched with melted snow. At this rate, he might have to walk all night to make it to civilization. He quickened his pace, fished the granola bar from his pocket, and took an incredibly stale bite. At the top of a rise, Bob paused and patted his breast pocket for his phone. He never did find out if he was back in range. Bob turned out every pocket with the sickening realization that his cell must have fallen out when he ran after the plow. He squinted back down the road and cursed his stupidity. In Bob’s overactive imagination, he saw headlines, “Local pastor freezes to death in November blizzard” or “Winter storm claims victim” or “Local church mourns pastor.”

About a half mile down the road, Bob stopped, pushed his hat up, and cupped his hands behind his ears to listen. There it was—jingling, like Santa’s sleigh or something else, something that told him that he was out in the middle of a full-fledged snow emergency: tire chains. He strained his eyes in the dark and glimpsed two dim beams, slowly growing brighter behind him. He heard the chugga, chugga, chugga of a big diesel engine. It was now or never. Bob took a deep breath and stepped out in the middle of the road with his hands up.

Bob had never met Chester Perkins, but he had heard stories. No one was certain exactly where Chester lived, but he was definitely off the grid. Some said he was an anti-social hermit. Others thought he was related to Big Foot. Everyone agreed that he smelled bad. Chester had seen the reflective gleam of a tail light in an empty car in the ditch at the bottom of Hotchkiss Hill, and he’d been prowling up the seasonal road in his rusted-out F-350 ever since. Maybe someone hadn’t had the good sense to stay put and wait out the storm. Chester thought about the three toes he had lost to frostbite in the big storm of ‘93. Some poor fool might need help.

The F-350 creaked to a stop about a foot away from Bob, who wasn’t certain which would be worse, getting run over or dying from exposure. Chester opened the truck door and shouted through the gap, “What are you waiting for? Get in!” While Bob’s numb hands fumbled for a grip on the passenger door, Chester kicked it wide open. He reached out a strong arm and hauled Bob up onto the bench seat.

Bob didn’t know what the source of the odor was, but it smelled bad in the truck, like dead things, body odor, and bean burritos. As Bob gagged and struggled into the seat belt, Chester passed a jar. “Drink that up, son.” Something fiery and potent, maybe moonshine, blazed down Bob’s throat and kindled warmth in his chest.

Chester pointed to Bob’s sodden boots. “Get those off,” he ordered and then passed Bob a furry pelt that looked suspiciously like it had come from a large dog. “Wrap your feet in this.” Bob did, his feet looking white and waxy in the dashboard light.

“Alright then, eat this.” Chester handed Bob a tough, salty chunk of jerky. Bob briefly wondered what sort of meat it could be but figured it was safe when Chester broke off a big hunk and began gnawing on some himself.

Chester dropped the truck into first and they crept toward town. “Where to?” he wanted to know.

“If you could take me to the manse at the Presbyterian Church, I’d be so grateful,” Bob answered, still finding it hard to believe that he just might make it out of this alive. They rode on for a few miles in silence.

Chester gave Bob a sidelong glance, “Man of God, huh? I never been to church.” Bob wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Certainly, if Chester had ever come to church, it would have been an unforgettable occasion.

With a sweep of his arm that took in the wind, snow, night, forest, darkness, Chester said, “This is my god.”

Bob nodded, thinking that Chester’s god had almost gotten the better of him that evening.

Maybe it was the moonshine, or the warmth of the animal skin on his feet, or the chugging of the truck that did it. Bob’s head fell to his chest, and the next thing he knew, they were in town, parked in front of the manse. Every light in the house was on, and Bob could see into the kitchen, where Marge looked like she was shouting into the telephone.

Bob pulled on his boots and turned to Chester, “I think you saved my life. How can I ever repay you?”

“No trouble,” Chester answered, “but it wouldn’t hurt if you promised to never do that again.”

“I promise, I really do,” Bob answered, shaking Chester’s grimy hand and knowing the grace of miraculous second chances and improbable saviors.

Chester chugged off into the night while Bob waved from the top step. Marge opened the front door, “Thank God! You’re home, Bob! We’ve been worried sick. Who was that?”

Bob reached an arm around Marge and watched as taillights disappeared at the end of the block. “Marge, that was a neighbor, a true-blue neighbor. Thank God, indeed.”

Helped and Healed

July 3, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Helped and Healed” 2 Kings 5:1-14

We can find it hard to ask for help. Blame it on our American independence. We generally think we know best, and we don’t like other people telling us what we should or should not be doing. It’s a deeply held American belief that we can be self-made men or self-made women. That phrase was coined in 1842 by Senator Henry Clay to describe individuals whose success lay within the individuals themselves, not with outside conditions. Needing help? That can sound downright un-American.

Naaman needed help. The Syrian General was a mighty man of valor. He wielded absolute authority over his troops. He won victory after victory for his country. He commanded the respect of his king. He amassed untold wealth and acquired a retinue of servants. Naaman even had the favor of the Hebrew God Yahweh, who gave him victory after victory.

But Naaman couldn’t do it all. Naaman suffered from tzara áth—leprosy. He had skin lesions and eruptions. In the biblical world, Naaman’s disease rendered him an unclean social outcast, separated from God and neighbors We know that Naaman’s leprosy was bad enough that the household talked about it, and we can surmise that the men whom Naaman commanded did, too. It was bad enough that Naaman and his wife worried about it—and it seems that they had given up hope on finding a cure. In fact, no one on earth could cure leprosy. Only God could do that.

We all need help sometimes. The COVID-19 pandemic made us acutely aware of that. We needed help at church. Thank goodness that our Resource Presbyter David Bennett came by that first week when things shut down and gave Duane and me a crash course in livestreaming. I can’t begin to say how thankful I am for all the help that Scott and Karen gave me in troubleshooting technical issues and providing music. How about Gaelle serving week after week as our greeter and COVID screener? Many hands helped to set up a worship space in the Great Hall and to eventually move us back into the sanctuary. Help was needed and help abounded. Thanks be to God.

COVID made us all realize that we needed help at home, too. Perhaps someone helped you shop for groceries or brought food in when you tested positive. Our crafty friends got out their sewing machines and stitched up masks for us. When we couldn’t figure out how to Zoom, thank goodness for those techy people who got us online and in touch. When there wasn’t any toilet paper, sanitizing wipes, or bleach on the store shelves, neighbors reached into their stashes and shared what was needed. The mass vulnerability of the COVID pandemic turned us to one another in search of help and in willingness to provide it.

Naaman got help. It started with the most vulnerable member of the household: a young Hebrew slave girl. She saw the affliction of Naaman and felt compassion. She cared enough to go to her mistress with the hope of a cure. If only Naaman would go see the Prophet Elisha! That started a cascade of helping actions. Naaman’s wife persuaded the general to seek help from his king. The king wrote a letter of support and loaded up the travel wagons with treasure. After a momentary meltdown, King Jehoram of Israel sent Naaman to Elisha. And Elisha stepped up to say that he was the man for the job.

But all those offers of help almost came to no avail. At Elisha’s house, the mighty man of valor expected an impressive ritual, the prophet in flowing robes, waving his arms, chanting incantations, and touching Naaman’s wounds. Instead, the front door opened, a servant came out, and Naaman was instructed to bathe seven times in the Jordan, where the murky waters were brown as dirt. Feeling hurt and disrespected, Naaman prepared to turn around and head home.

Beyond the mutual need of the COVID pandemic, it can be hard for us to ask for help. Nora Bouchard, author of Mayday! Asking for Help in Times of Need, writes that we are hardwired to want to do things our way. It’s there from the moment that our toddler tells us, “Me do it, Mommy!” to the moment they leave the nest and don’t call home nearly as often as we would like. We could also be reluctant to ask for help because we do not want to be perceived as needy or vulnerable. Among the most influential forces in our willingness—or reluctance— to seek help is the attitude that we experienced in our families of origin. Were our bids for help encouraged and answered or were they ignored? Were we treated like a whiny cry baby? Did someone take advantage of our need for assistance? If help was hard to come by growing up, then we may have particular trouble asking for help now. Our wiring, our self-perception, and our formation can all get in the way of asking for the help we need.

We might be more likely to ask for help if we remembered that Jesus asked for help. If you read the gospel lection for today (Luke 10:1-11, 16-20), then you were reminded that Jesus sent seventy disciples on ahead of him in pairs to every place where he himself intended to go. The Lord could have done it all by himself. But Jesus saw the rightness of asking for help and the wisdom of pairing up buddies so that they could help one another. Jesus also sent them out with minimal resources—no purse, no bag, no sandals. As those vulnerable disciples moved from community to community, sharing the gospel, they depended upon the help of others. It was in the giving and receiving of help that the beloved community of the first Christians took shape.

It might also inspire us, as independent-minded Americans, to remember on this Independence Day weekend that even our founding fathers and mothers needed help. It’s questionable whether we would have won the Revolutionary War without the help of our French allies. Starting in 1775, France became a secret supporter of the revolutionary cause, providing us with engineers to build fortifications, as well as uniforms, arms, and ammunition to equip the Continental Army. French aid to the colonies came to more that 1.3 billion livres (that’s about $13 billion), crippling their own economy. At the turning point of the war, at Saratoga in 1777, 90% of American troops carried French rifles and all of our gunpowder came from France.

What might asking for help look like for us? I like to begin with prayer and inviting others to pray for me. We could also start small with help for a minor problem, rather than waiting for something to morph into crisis. We can trust that the Lord has brought people into our lives who will want to help us, just as the Lord did for Naaman. If those folks can’t help us, they may know someone who can. We could also consider having a support team, a little like the people who were in our COVID bubbles but permanent. These are the people with whom we can feel safe asking for help and extending ourselves in help. There is help out there if we are willing to ask.

Naaman got the help that he needed. Using a tenderness of language that suggests real affection, the servants interceded, saying to Naaman, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, you would have done it. Why not try something simple?” Maybe this healing process really could work. They had come so far. Wasn’t it worth a try?

Down Naaman went to the shores of Jordan. He stripped off his uniform and everyone got a look at his scabby skin. Then he waded down into the chocolaty brown water. It rose to his ankles and knees. It surged above his waist and chest. He grimaced, held his breath, and dunked his head. Seven times Naaman went down. Seven times he came up, sputtering. At some point, Naaman noticed that he was no longer the same. Help had led to healing. The mighty man of valor walked out of the river with skin as soft and supple as a young boy. Alleluia!

Help—both holy and human—abounds for the asking.

Resources:

Walter Brueggemann. Knox Preaching Guides: 2 Kings, ed. John H. Hayes, (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982).

Lisa Fierenz. “Why Asking for Help Is Hard to Do,” in Psychology Today, April 5, 2017. Accessed online at http://www.psychologytoday.com.

L. Daniel Hawk. “Commentary on 2 Kings 5:1-14” in Preaching This Week, July 3, 2022. Accessed online at www.workingpreacher.org.

Brian C. Jones. “Commentary on 2 Kings 5:1-14” in Preaching This Week, July 7, 2019. Accessed online at www.workingpreacher.org.

Suzanne McGee. “5 Ways the French Helped Win the American Revolution” in History, Sept. 9, 2020. Accessed online at www.history.com.

Cory Stieg. “Everyone Needs Help During the Coronavirus Pandemic” in CNBC: Health and Wellness, April 22, 2020. Accessed online at http://www.cnbc.com

W. Dennis Tucker. “Commentary on 2 Kings 5:1-14” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 15, 2009. Accessed online at http://www.workingpreacher.org.

2 Kings 5:1-14

Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. 2Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. 3She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” 4So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. 5And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.” He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. 6He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” 7When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.” 8But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” 9So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. 10Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” 11But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! 12Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. 13But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” 14So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.

No Turning Back

June 26, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “No Turning Back” Luke 9:51-62

When it comes to understanding our higher purpose as human beings, author, psychologist, and wilderness guide Bill Plotkin teaches that each of us is born to occupy a specific ecological niche—that’s econiche for short. Each of us is blessed with gifts, abilities, and aptitudes that are intended to fulfil a particular function in our families, communities, and beyond. You might even say that we are each created with a God-given purpose. By living faithfully and courageously, we grow fully into the people whom God created us to be.

Take my econiche, for example. I like to say that I am doing what God put me on earth to do: serving as a pastor and spiritual leader. I also feel that I am fulfilling that function where God calls me to be—right here in Saranac Lake. I believe that God called me to marriage with Duane, who has been a wonderful encourager and conversation partner for my life and ministry. A few years ago, I began to hear God calling me to use my writing to reach beyond the walls of the church and the limits of Saranac Lake. When I chose to live into that expanded econiche, doors opened: a book, a doctoral program, and an article in a literary journal this month.

Bill Plotkin writes that we are “each born to take a specific place within the earth community, to fill an individual ecological niche in the greater web of life.” We each have a holy purpose that serves the planet. Our personal growth and discovery of our econiche is part of God’s plan. It’s a fulfillment of our purpose and a blessing to the world around us. What is your econiche?

In today’s lesson from Luke’s gospel, Jesus resolved to travel to Jerusalem. Along the way, Jesus would share some of his most profound teachings and work some of his most compelling acts of healing. He would do all this while knowing what awaited him in Jerusalem: betrayal, arrest, conviction, torture, and death. Jesus knew his econiche. He knew the redemptive purpose that God put him on earth to serve and he “set his face” to fulfill it.

As Jesus embarked on that fateful journey, he was not alone. He was accompanied by “the women,” his inner circle of disciples, and other unnamed followers. Drawn by Jesus’ wise instruction or in search of a healing miracle, people came to see what Jesus was all about. According to Luke, some who came felt that God’s will for their life—their econiche—was to be a disciple. Indeed, in today’s lesson, Jesus was approached by three would-be disciples. All expressed interest in following Jesus, but there seemed to be impediments to answering that calling.

The first would-be disciple sounded eager. He promised to follow Jesus wherever he might go. Yet Jesus cautioned that following him would not be easy. Foxes have dens, birds of the air go home to roost, but, at times, Jesus and his friends would have no place to lay their heads. Being a disciple would bring opposition from Samaritan villages, scandalized Pharisees, and plotting priests and scribes. Jesus and his friends would make enemies. Discipleship would sometimes feel unsafe and inhospitable, lonely and under-supported. If this would-be disciple was going to answer the call, then he would need to be ready to face adversity.

If we are to grow into our God-given purpose—our econiche, then we need to be prepared to work through difficulty and adversity along the way. Benjamin Franklin was 10-years-old when his parents could no longer afford to send him to school. The resourceful Franklin resolved to teach himself. He read voraciously, studying late into the night with poor lighting after working all day as a printer’s apprentice. Franklin’s self-directed study equipped him for life as a patriot, scientist, and diplomat. He was an editor and signer of the Declaration of Independence, the inventor of the lightning rod and bifocals, and the American ambassador to France from 1776 to 1785.

A second would-be disciple approached Jesus. This man wished to join the Lord on the journey to Jerusalem, but he first wanted to bury his father. First century Jewish tradition taught that at the death of a patriarch a mourning period of seven days followed the burial. If the dead man were of high status in the community, that mourning period could extend to thirty days. This would-be disciple wished to follow Jesus, but it would be a while before he was available. Jesus’ response, “Let the dead bury the dead, but you go share the good news of the Kingdom,” sounds harsh. Some Bible scholars say this is hyperbole, an exaggerated rhetoric that makes a point. Clearly, Jesus is saying that discipleship takes unwavering commitment that is willing to set aside time-worn traditions.

Fulfilling God’s purpose for our lives may likewise demand that we make tough choices that depart from traditions and expectations. Those of you who are older among us remember the days when the only career options available to women were mothering, teaching, nursing, or being a clerical worker. Judith von Seldeneck’s parents thought she would make a great secretary – and she was, serving as the personal secretary to Sen. Walter Mondale in the 1960s. But Judith had different ideas about her purpose. She attended law school—one of only two women in her class. Then, as more and more women began to enter the workforce, Judith found her niche: helping women find jobs. The business that she launched, Diversified Search Group, is now a global leader in executive recruitment, with offices in fourteen cities across the US and global affiliates around the world.

A third would-be disciple approached Jesus. He hoped to follow the Lord, but first he wished to go back home and take his leave. Jesus sensed that this man’s past would have a powerful hold upon him. Like a distracted farmer who plows a crooked and shallow furrow, this man would always look back. He would not have the focus and commitment for discipleship. His preoccupation with the past would be a roadblock to moving ahead.

To grow into the people whom God calls us to be, we may sometimes need to leave something behind. This may include false beliefs about ourselves and patterns of behavior that are a stumbling block to our growth. In his book How Not to Be Afraid, author, storyteller, and peacemaker Gareth Higgins writes that many of us subject ourselves to “harsher judgment than that which we direct to people we might even consider enemies. We have likely judged ourselves worthy of public flogging more times than we can remember.” To move forward and grow into God’s purpose for our lives, we may need to leave behind our critical inner voice, or our failures, or even traumatic experiences that have kept us stuck. Sometimes, it’s the shame of our past mistakes or our feelings of sinfulness that hold us back because we fail to extend to ourselves the grace that Jesus so generously extended to others.

The research of author and professor Brene Brown has found that eighty-five percent of men and women interviewed could recall a school incident from their childhood that was so shaming that it changed how they thought of themselves as people and learners. What made those findings even more haunting was that approximately half of those recollections were what Brown calls “creativity scars.” The research participants could point to a specific incident where they were told or shown that they weren’t good writers, artists, musicians, dancers, or creators. Our potential is stifled when we accept the criticism of others as part of our self-understanding.

Making peace with the past so that we can move into the future takes prayer, reflection, and healing work. We may need a wise mentor, a caring friend, a listening pastor, or a good counselor to help us see that our past does not have to determine our future. Indeed, it is in our healing and growing that we discern and cultivate strengths and gifts that will serve us and the world around us. Like Rumpelstiltskin spinning straw into gold, those personal pains that once held us back can be transformed, equipping us richly to serve in the struggles of others. If we refuse to let go of the past, if we won’t take the risk of stepping out to follow Jesus and pursue our higher purpose, then we fail ourselves and the role we are meant to serve in God’s Kingdom goes unfulfilled.

What I find most fascinating about today’s reading is that we don’t get to see the choices that those would-be disciples made. Did they rise to move into that beautiful, if daunting, path of discipleship? Or, did they despair at the possibility of discomfort, cling too closely to outdated traditions, and let their pasts get the better of them? Call me an optimist, but I like to think they found their econiche. Those would-be disciples chose Jesus, chose growth, chose to become the people whom God was calling them to become. I like to think that they were blessed in that—and that they went on to become a blessing for others.

May we do the same.

Resources:

Brené Brown. “The Most Dangerous Stories We Make Up” excerpted from Rising Strong, July 27, 2015. Accessed online at brenebrown.com.

Chris Crisman. “Women’s work: 12 stories of female success and struggle in male-dominated fields | Perspective” in The Philadelphia Inquirer, March 7, 2020. Accessed online at inquirer.com.

Mikeal Parsons. “Commentary on Luke 9:51-62” in Preaching This Week, June 26, 2016. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Marilynn Salmon. “Commentary on Luke 9:51-62” in Preaching This Week, June 27, 2010. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Michael Rogness. “Commentary on Luke 9:51-62” in Preaching This Week, June 30, 2013. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

David Lose. “Out of Control” in Dear Working Preacher, June 24, 2013. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Luke 9:51-62

⁵¹When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. ⁵²And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; ⁵³but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. ⁵⁴When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” ⁵⁵But he turned and rebuked them. ⁵⁶Then they went on to another village. ⁵⁷As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” ⁵⁸And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” ⁵⁹To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” ⁶⁰But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” ⁶¹Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” ⁶²Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

The Community of Overflowing Love

June 12, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — Matthew 28:16-20 “The Community of Overflowing Love”

Ireland has long been known as the Land of a Thousand Welcomes, with a well-deserved reputation as the most hospitable nation on earth. In Ireland, lost tourists looking for directions find themselves escorted to their destination with many a story along the way. Visitors to a pub are welcomed like old friends with raised glasses and calls of “Slainte!” An afternoon visit leads to tea with many a cuppa’ and soda bread dotted with raisins and slathered with butter.

This unofficial code of Irish welcome dates back more than 1,000 years to when the Irish clans were regulated by the Brehon Laws. Under Brehon Law, all households were obliged to provide some measure of hospitality to strangers—food, drink, entertainment, and a bed. No prying questions could be asked of the guest, and once hospitality was accepted, the guest refrained from any quarrel or harsh words. The only price of hospitality was the exchange of stories, poetry, and song. In a rural land with few roads and long distances between settlements, these ancient Irish traditions ensured a much-needed welcome for weary travelers.

Today, the warm welcome of the Irish continues to summon visitors from around the world. In 2019, before the pandemic, 11.3 million travelers visited the Land of a Thousand Welcomes, more than double the Irish population. That’s almost three times the number of annual visitors to the Holy Land.

At the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus cast a vision for the life and ministry of his disciples. We call it the Great Commission. Jesus sent his friends forth to all nations to share the gospel. They were commissioned to bear witness to God’s great love for all people, a love that was revealed in the life, death and rising of their Lord. For their mission, the disciples would rely on the hospitality of others. They had to trust that there would be a welcome waiting for them at the end of a long day of travel—safety, the sharing of food, drink, entertainment, and a bed.

It was in acts of hospitality, in the welcoming of strangers and the telling of stories, that the good news of Jesus Christ was shared. At the table or while seated at the fire, tales were told. Strangers became friends. Disciple begat disciple. Hosts were welcomed into the community of Christ, which had its own far-reaching hospitality, a hospitality that found its ultimate expression in the rite of baptism. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, guest became host, host became guest, and all became One in the family of love and faith that Jesus commanded his disciples to make.

Jesus’ vision of an expanding community of love is grounded in the Trinity—the belief that God is Three-in-One. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit exist in eternal community, three simultaneous, co-equal expressions of the One Holy and Almighty God. The theologians say that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit indwell each other (perichoresis). They make room for one another and are hospitable to one another. Reformed author and pastor Leonard Vander Zee describes the Trinity eloquently and understandably when he writes, “At the center of all reality, at the heart of the universe, there exists an eternal divine community of perfect love.”

Everything that we know flows forth from that perfect love. Creation is the expansion and delight of that overflowing divine love. All creatures arise from that overflowing divine love. We are an expression of that overflowing divine love. It is no wonder that when Jesus cast the vision for the church, it was a vision of overflowing divine love, of disciples going forth in love to welcome friends, neighbors, strangers, and all nations into that eternal community of perfect love. Now that’s what we call holy hospitality.

Standing at the intersection of the ancient Brehon Laws of hospitality and the overflowing love of the Triune God is Brigid of Ireland. With Patrick and Columba, Brigid is one of the three patron saints of the Land of a Thousand Welcomes. While Patrick evangelized the Irish, and Columba sailed off to share the gospel with the Scots, Brigid was consecrated as a bishop and established Irish communities where the overflowing love of Christ was revealed.

In the 6^th century, Brigid was born a slave to a pagan chieftain and his Christian dairymaid. From an early age, Brigid resolved to live a life of dedication to Christ with great kindness and generosity. She so infuriated her father by giving away his possessions to anyone in need that he sold her with her mother to the household of a druid priest. There, Brigid’s generosity got her into trouble again. Her druid master confronted her for giving away the entire supply of butter, but when Brigid prayed, the butter supply was divinely restored—and more. Her master’s household prospered and grew rich with abundance. Convicted of Brigid’s holiness, the druid and his family were baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The druid’s first action as a newborn member of that community of overflowing divine love was to give Brigid her freedom.

Brigid’s kindness and generosity often extended to the most vulnerable of her neighbors. When she fell while riding and struck her head, she asked that the blood from her wound be mixed with water and used to anoint two sisters who were deaf and mute. Both were healed. When a cow had been sorely troubled and milked dry by hungry neighbors, Brigid blessed the poor beast, which then provided ten times the milk expected of it and never went dry again. Brigid gave a mug of water to a leper, instructing him to wash with it, and he was made clean. Brigid’s self-proclaimed purpose was “to satisfy the poor, to banish every hardship, and to save every sorrowful man.” That sounds like what Jesus had in mind when he sent out his disciples to share the overflowing love of the Triune God.

Brigid believed in the power of community to extend the outreaching, overflowing love of Christ. With seven other Christian women, Brigid went to the King of Kildare to request land to build a Christian community. When the king refused, Brigid persuaded him to give her a parcel of land no larger than her cloak could cover. The king agreed. Four women were given the corners of her cloak, and as Brigid prayed, they began to walk. The Lord brought the increase, expanding the cloak until it covered a generous parcel of land, the Curragh of Kildare.

There Brigid and her friends built a large double monastery for women and men. Kildare Abbey was a center for learning, worship, farming, the arts, and, of course, hospitality. In the Spirit of Christ and the tradition of Brehon Law, strangers were welcomed with food, drink, entertainment, and rest. In the sharing of stories, many a visitor came to know the overflowing love of God and was baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

On Trinity Sunday, we celebrate that eternal, divine community of perfect love that lives at the heart of the universe. We remember Jesus’s vision of a ministry of overflowing divine love for all nations. Brigid believed that when we go forth in that overflowing love of the Trinity, we become Christ to others and they become Christ to us. Brigid said, “It is in the name of Christ that I feed the poor, for Christ is the body of every poor man.” As we are a blessing to others, they become a blessing to us. This morning, Jesus and Brigid bid us to ponder: How will we go forth to share the overflowing perfect love of the Triune God?

I’ll close with the Irish Rune of Hospitality, attributed to Brigid.

“I saw a stranger yestere’en;

I put food in the eating place,

Drink in the drinking place,

Music in the listening place,

And in the name of the Triune

He blessed myself and my house,

My cattle and my dear ones,

And the lark said in her song

Often, often, often,

Goes the Christ in the stranger’s guise,

Often, often, often,

Goes the Christ in the stranger’s guise.”

Resources:

Daniel Migliore. Faith Seeking Understanding. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1991.

Leonard Vander Zee. “The Holy Trinity: The Community of Love at the Heart of Reality” in The Banner, Feb. 26, 2016.

Wendy Hopler. “Biography of Brigid of Kildare” in Learn Religions, June 10, 2019. Accessed online at learnreligions.com.

John D. Gee. “5 Lessons from St. Brigid of Kildare” in Patheos: Hosting the Conversation on Faith, Feb. 1, 2021. Accessed online at patheos.com.

Mary Dugan Doss. “A Gift of Hospitality: Saint Brigid, Abbess of Kildare” in Orthodox Christianity, Feb. 1, 2014. Accessed online at orthochristian.com.

Matthew 28:16-20

¹⁶Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. ¹⁷When they saw him, they worshiped him, but they doubted. ¹⁸And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. ¹⁹Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit ²⁰and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

By John Duncan (1866-1945) – http://www.the-athenaeum.org/art/full.php?ID=27474, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=46026001

On Each of Us

June 5, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “On Each of Us” Acts 2:1-13

Anyone who has lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time can affirm how hungry we become for the sound of our own language. My classmates and I had been living in Switzerland for about three months when culture shock set in. We were exhausted by trying to decipher the nearly incomprehensible accents of Swiss-German. We were sick of the mockery of Swiss students, who thought we were all cowboys, Madonna, or surfer dudes. We had had more than our fill of sausages, Smurfs, mopeds, bidets, smelly cheese, and toilets with observation platforms.

Then one day, my friends and I were wandering through a labyrinth of displays at a cultural expo when we heard something that made our hearts beat a little faster: the familiar twang of country music. With ears tuned to that beacon, we zeroed in on the source: a booth where women were speaking English, not the clipped rhythm of British English, not the thick brogue of the Scots, not the lilt of the Irish, but real American English. It felt like home: warm, welcoming, and safe.

On that first Pentecost, there were devout Jews living in Jerusalem from every nation under heaven, from North Africa to Mesopotamia to Rome. I suspect that those who had been sojourning for a long time were hungry for the sound of their mother tongue. They were strangers in a strange land, and no one let them forget it. They were weary of the overweening pride of the priests in the Temple and shocked by the exorbitant price of lodging. They were missing the tastes of home and thoroughly sick of falafel.

Then, as they were walking to morning prayer, came the rush of a violent wind, followed by a sound that was music to their ears. For each one heard in his or her own language the story of God’s great deeds of power and the truth of God’s immeasurable love for them, the love revealed in Jesus. In that foreign city, surrounded by a sea of strange people and foreign languages, each heard the language they most needed to hear. It must have felt like home: warm, welcoming, and safe.

When we think about Pentecost, we tend to focus on the disciples. We remember Peter’s powerful proclamation that inspired 3,000 people to make the choice for Jesus. We imagine Philip finding the courage and vision to take the good news and go to the Samaritans and that Ethiopian eunuch. We consider James, who stayed put in Jerusalem and thanklessly worked, year after year, to teach the Jewish people the gospel of Jesus until his enemies put him to the sword. When the Spirit came with rushing wind and tongues of flame, it empowered those disciples to do extraordinary, heroic, and miraculous deeds in service to the Kingdom of God.

Yet a closer reading of the Pentecost story reminds us that 120 followers of Jesus were gathered together in that place when that wind from God blew and the flames danced above their heads. There were twelve disciples. Another seven men were present who would become the first deacons. There were the largely unnamed women who provided for Jesus, including Mary Magdalene, Susannah, and Joanna. There were Jesus’ brothers and mother. Even if we are generous with the math, that leaves about ninety other people who were there in that Upper Room at Pentecost—ninety people, whom we’ve never heard of, were filled with the Spirit at Pentecost. We don’t know their stories.

Back at that cultural expo in the Basel, Switzerland of my college days, we discovered that those speakers of our mother tongue were American ex-patriot women. Their lives had landed them abroad for decades. They taught at the university or were chemists with CIBA-GEIGY. Their husbands were titans of industry or wizards of global finance. Some had raised families in that foreign land, children who spoke the strange sounds of Swiss-German with just as much fluency as they did English. Each week, those women gathered in one another’s homes to drink coffee, speak English, and navigate together the difficulty of being strangers in a strange land.

They could have been our mothers or grandmothers as they turned to us with the listening ears and compassionate care that we all need when we fear that we are alone in the dark, a long way from home. They didn’t have to be so nice, but they were. Each of them, in her own way, was extraordinary in her ordinary kindness. There were smiles and hugs and cups of coffee. In days to come, there were bowls of chili and slices of apple pie that tasted just like home. And in some way when we were with them, we were home, even if it was only for an hour or so at a time in the midst of that sea of indifferent faces and other languages.

I trust that on that first Pentecost the nameless ninety went out into the streets of Jerusalem to be extraordinary in their ordinary ways. They were kind and welcoming. They listened and cared. They were a lot like those American ex-patriot women I met in Basel. In their willingness to love, they revealed that other love, the Great Love that spins the whirling planets, puffs into our lungs the breath of life, and waits to welcome us at the last. They showed forth the holy love that walked this world in Jesus. Filled with the Spirit, the unknown ninety went forth in their quiet, quaint, and ordinary ways to speak other languages that made the world feel like home to people who feared they were alone in the dark.

As we celebrate that first Pentecost and the falling of the Spirit upon all those named and nameless followers of Jesus, may we remember that the Holy Spirit rests upon each of us. Empowered by the Spirit, some of us may go forth to serve the Kingdom in ways that are truly remarkable and well-worthy of the disciples. Yet most of us will be like the ninety. We’ll go forth to speak the languages that others long to hear in a world that feels lonely, unsafe, and far from home. It may surprise us to learn that we are already fluent in the loving language that Jesus spoke so eloquently, the language that our neighbors long to hear.

We can speak the language of prayer. We’ll lay a hand on the shoulder of a hurting friend and seek some holy help. We’ll pray with the headlines, lifting up the victims of school shootings, natural disasters, and the tragedy of war. We’ll pray for those whom we love, gently naming the worries and fears that plague every family and trusting the Lord to be at work. We are fluent in prayer.

We can speak the language of caring. We’ll feed hungry people with monthly food offerings. We’ll share the gospel of fresh, church-grown vegetables. We’ll testify with toilet paper and paper towels for Grace Pantry. We’ll wrap hurting neighbors in prayer shawls made with love. We’ll cheer friends with the gift of a prayer bear. We’ll bless folks through times of crisis with help from the deacons’ fund. We are fluent in care.

We can speak the language of welcome. We’ll take the time to truly see our vulnerable neighbors, to notice, greet, and listen. We’ll reach out with concern for those who feel invisible, due to advancing age or growing disability. We’ll greet and honor children, whose voices are often dismissed. We’ll embrace diversity as God’s wondrous and stunning plan for humanity. We’ll welcome students who feel like strangers in a strange land as they contend with sub-zero temperatures, long dark winters, and cafeteria food. We are fluent in the language of welcome.

By the power of the Spirit, each of us can be extraordinary in our ordinary, everyday ways. Through our prayer, caring, and welcome, this world may even begin to feel like home for those who fear they are alone in the dark. Let us go forth to speak the languages that others need to hear. Amen.

Resources:

Karl Kuhn. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 5, 2022. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Debra J. Mumford. Amy Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 31, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Amy Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 9, 2019. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Greg Carey. Amy Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 20, 2018. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Mikeal C. Parsons. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 8, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Acts 2:1-13

2 When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2 And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3 Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. 5 Now there were devout Jews from every people under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6 And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7 Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9 Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11 Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12 All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13 But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

Prisoners Freed

May 29, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Prisoners Freed” Acts 16:16-34

On May fourteenth, Payton Gendron, an eighteen-year-old white male with an assault rifle and body armor, entered the Tops Market in the predominantly African American East Side neighborhood of Buffalo. He opened fire, killing ten black shoppers and workers. Gendron drove 200 miles to commit his crime, and we know from a manifesto that he wrote and the video footage that he livestreamed of his attack that he was motivated by racial hate. Among the victims was eighty-six-year-old Ruth Whitfield. Ruth was on her way home from visiting her husband in nursing care. Also killed was sixty-seven-year-old Heyward Patterson, a deacon at his church, who was giving rides to shoppers that needed them.

On May fifteenth, members of the Laguna Woods Taiwanese Presbyterian Church came under attack as they shared lunch in the church hall following worship. David Chou was a visitor that day. He came armed with two nine-millimeter guns, a bag of Molotov cocktails, and anti-Taiwanese beliefs. Chou visited with church members and shared lunch before launching his attack. Dr. John Cheng, an orthopedist, was killed when he charged the gunman, but his brave actions allowed others to overpower and hogtie their attacker. Five people, ranging in age from sixty-six to ninety-two were wounded, four of them critically.

On Tuesday, an armed gunman, eighteen-year-old Salvador Ramos, entered Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas through a back door that had been propped open. Just the week before, Ramos purchased two AR-15 assault-style rifles and a lot of ammunition for his birthday. At the school, Ramos entered a fourth grade classroom and killed nineteen children and two teachers before being shot by federal officers. Among the dead was ten-year-old Jose Flores, Jr, who loved baseball, videogames, and being an amazing big brother. Also killed was veteran teacher Irma Garcia, described as sweet, kind, and loving. She tried to shield the children from the gunman.

In the wake of so much senseless violence, we are heartbroken, grieved, and weary. We struggle to imagine the enormity of the loss. We consider how we would feel if the lives lost were our grandpas, our children, our teachers. It feels like we are trapped in an endless cycle of violent attacks, followed by thoughts and prayers, followed by calls for change, followed by the failure to take action, followed by yet another incident of mass violence. It is as if we are prisoners of an epic cycle of senseless, horrific death that repeats, over and over again.

The Apostle Paul was imprisoned many times as he took the gospel out into the Greco-Roman world. Indeed, four of Paul’s epistles were written from prison and he repeatedly described himself as being in chains for the sake of the gospel. Today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles describes Paul’s stay as a “guest of the emperor” in the Roman colony of Philippi.

It all started when Paul exorcised a pneuma puthona, spirit of the python, the ancient serpent who guarded the oracle at Delphi. We don’t know how, but this demon had taken up residence in the belly of a slave girl and spoke prophecy to the highest bidder. This poor girl was doubly enslaved. She was held in the python’s coiled grasp and held captive by men who exploited her suffering to make “a great deal” of money. These slave owners were irate when their income stream dried up, so they had Paul and Silas arrested on trumped-up charges of disturbing the peace and promoting anti-Roman sentiment. It didn’t take much to gather an angry mob to call for immediate, harsh, and violent punishment. Paul and Silas were stripped, flogged, chained, and thrown into the inmost part of the jail, the tullianum, a dungeon without light or fresh air where those who had committed the most serious crimes or were of the very lowest level of society were kept.

That’s when this story gets really interesting. Severely punished and unjustly imprisoned, we expect Paul and Silas to tend their wounds and silently languish. But around midnight, the two men were praying and singing psalms. Philippi’s deepest dungeon became an impromptu church. Paul and Silas found hope in the Lord. Other prisoners listened in, longing for good news in the dark. Next, the presence of the Most-High God was revealed: the earth shook violently, the prison’s foundations rocked, doors sprung open, chains were loosed and prisoners freed; yet, instead of making a break for it, Paul and Silas stuck around. They saved the life of their jailer, shared the good news of salvation, and baptized the entire household. The next day when the apostles were exonerated, they went forth renewed in God’s power and purpose. How is that for a Hollywood ending?

It’s a wild and hopeful story of prisoners freed, one that we need to hear as we languish in dark times of senseless violence, hate, and mass shootings. It’s a story that can speak to hearts hurting with unending grief and overwhelming fear. It’s a story that contradicts our belief that we are powerless to make a difference and put an end to the cycle of meaningless death. Would you like to know how?

It begins with what we do in the dark. Bruised by the world’s brutality, it is easy to throw up our hands and feel powerless. And yet, we are not alone in the dark. God faced the worst of human violence for love’s sake when Jesus suffered a cruel and savage death on the cross. In Jesus, God infused the world’s suffering with God’s presence. And so, we trust that God was there as Payton Gendron prowled the aisles of that East Side Tops Market. God was there in the church hall when Taiwanese Presbyterians came under attack. God was there in Robb Elementary School as children wept and teachers pleaded. God is with us in our darkness, from the inner dungeon of a Philippian jail to the hushed silence of our sanctuary. We are not alone in the dark, and that is something to trust in, to pray and sing about. In a world where we feel we are prisoners of an endless cycle of violence, we can offer a bright and lyrical hope to all who feel alone and afraid in the dark. Sing and pray, my friends.

We can trust that God, who is with us in the dark, is powerful. In teaching about this story, Professor Brian Peterson of the Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary in Columbia, SC points to the earthquake. Peterson writes that “this earthquake is the visible manifestation of God shaking this world’s powers to their foundations.” God was more powerful than a Roman jail. God is more powerful than the violence of this world. God is more powerful than the economic interests that make big money off the sale of guns and ammunition. God is more powerful than the powers that seek to make political hay from gun violence without effecting any change. Our all-powerful God longs to shake things up, to rock the foundations of a world that has grown numb to senseless attacks. God longs to set prisoners of violence free. Trust in the power of God, my friends.

That all-powerful God calls faithful people everywhere to shake things up. We are grateful citizens of this nation, and yet we belong to the Kingdom where Christ is King and love is the byword. We have been saved and freed for God’s purpose. In response to that amazing grace, we dare each day to nudge this broken world a little closer to that holy Kingdom that is all around us and still to come.

It doesn’t matter what your social or political beliefs may be. There is plenty of Kingdom work for those who would dare to break that horrific cycle of violence. If we believe that mental illness is to blame, then we need to be out there making a healthcare system where those who suffer from mental illness get the best possible care, provided with great compassion and medical excellence at reasonable cost. If we believe that hate is to blame, then we have a lot of loving to do, we have many vulnerable people to shelter, and we have the work of non-violent resistance ahead of us. If we believe that political agendas and gridlock impede change, then we need to find candidates who listen and use our votes to bring change to the halls of power. If we believe that greed is the problem, from DC lobbyists to arms manufacturers, from videogame designers to an entertainment industry that glorifies violent heroes, then we need to think seriously about how we spend our money, time, and attention. Never underestimate the power of collective action shared in pursuit of a Kingdom-purpose. With God’s help, we can be world-changing. Let’s shake things up, my friends.

If we squander our freedom with endless hand-wringing, indifference, or political in-fighting, we know what the consequences will be. That cycle of violence will continue. Senseless violent attacks will provoke our thoughts and prayers. We’ll fail to take meaningful action. We’ll lapse into apathy and indifference. Then, yet another mass shooting at a place like Robb Elementary School or the Taiwanese Presbyterian Church or Tops Market will again launch the same brutal and intolerable cycle. We don’t want that for our world. We don’t want that for our children.

Sing and pray. Trust in God. Shake things up.

Resources:

Jake Bleiberg, Jim Venturo, and Elliot Spagat. “Gunman’s Final 90 Minutes Fuel Questions about Police Delays” in Associated Press News, May 26, 2022. Accessed online at apnews.com.

Eric Levinson, et al. “Uvalde School Shooting Suspect Was a Loner Who Bought Two Assault Rifles for His 18^th Birthday” in CNN News, May 27, 2022. Accessed online at cnn.com.

AP News Staff. “Buffalo Supermarket Shooting: What Do We Know So Far?” in Associated Press News, May 24, 2022. Accessed online at apnews.com.

Damian Dovarganes and Christopher Weber. CA Churchgoers Detained Gunman in Deadly Attack” in Associated Press News, May 16, 2022. Accessed online at apnews.com.

Jerusha Matsiu Neal. “Commentary on Acts 16:16-34” in Preaching This Week, May 29, 2022. Accessed online at http://www.workingpreacher.org.

Jennifer Kaalund. “Commentary on Acts 16:16-34” in Preaching This Week, June 2, 2019. Accessed online at http://www.workingpreacher.org.

Brian Peterson. “Commentary on Acts 16:16-34” in Preaching This Week, May 12, 2013. Accessed online at http://www.workingpreacher.org.

Acts 16:16-34

¹⁶One day, as we were going to the place of prayer, we met a slave girl who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune-telling. ¹⁷While she followed Paul and us, she would cry out, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation.” ¹⁸She kept doing this for many days. But Paul, very much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And it came out that very hour. ¹⁹But when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the authorities. ²⁰When they had brought them before the magistrates, they said, “These men are disturbing our city; they are Jews ²¹and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to adopt or observe.” ²²The crowd joined in attacking them, and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. ²³After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. ²⁴Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks. ²⁵About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. ²⁶Suddenly there was an earthquake, so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened. ²⁷When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. ²⁸But Paul shouted in a loud voice, “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.” ²⁹The jailer called for lights, and rushing in, he fell down trembling before Paul and Silas. ³⁰Then he brought them outside and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” ³¹They answered, “Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.” ³²They spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. ³³At the same hour of the night he took them and washed their wounds; then he and his entire family were baptized without delay. ³⁴He brought them up into the house and set food before them; and he and his entire household rejoiced that he had become a believer in God.

Joann White

writer, pastor, spiritual director, and enthusiast of wild places

Sabbath Day Thoughts

Faith, Not Fear

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Faith, Not Fear” Genesis 15:1-6; Luke 12:32

Genesis 15:1-6

Property Problems

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Property Problems” Luke 12:13-21

Luke 12:13-21

How’s Your Prayer Life?

Sabbath Day Thoughts — How’s Your Prayer Life? Luke 11:1-13

Luke 11:1-13

Cold Water

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Cold Water” Matthew 10:40-42

Matthew 10:40-42

The Unexpected Neighbor

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Unexpected Neighbor” Luke 10:25-37

Helped and Healed

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Helped and Healed” 2 Kings 5:1-14

2 Kings 5:1-14

No Turning Back

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “No Turning Back” Luke 9:51-62

Luke 9:51-62

The Community of Overflowing Love

Sabbath Day Thoughts — Matthew 28:16-20 “The Community of Overflowing Love”

Matthew 28:16-20

On Each of Us

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “On Each of Us” Acts 2:1-13

Acts 2:1-13

Prisoners Freed

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Prisoners Freed” Acts 16:16-34

Acts 16:16-34