“Where’s Your Burning Bush?”

Burning bush or not... God wants you and is calling you!

You are walking along minding your own business when all of a sudden you notice a burning bush. Except, wait a minute, this is not your average burning bush that you have happened across countless other times, no this is scorching shrubbery that is not going down. This bush is burning, but not consumed. So, you think, “Okay, I should stop and see what is happening over here, right?” Then all of a sudden a voice says your name.

The story of Moses and the burning bush has always been a favorite Bible story, precisely because it is so outlandish, so absurd, and somehow hits so close to home. Still I wonder questions like, “Am I supposed to believe this?” “Is there science that backs up the possibility of the bush staying on fire?” “Was Moses on something at the time?” Then, I realize that I am asking the wrong types of questions of this ancient text. This story resonates so much not because everyone will experience something like this, but because fantastic presentation or not God is speaking to each and every one in this world.

The Creator of all things might not be hiding behind flaming flora on your way to work, but God wants to talk with you! God has a purpose for your life. The Almighty wants you! The trouble with today’s frantic pace, artificial connectedness, and shallow way of existing is that we are often so distracted that we do not make the time to actually stop when we do happen upon our burning bush. So, I invite you to stop. Breath. Look around. Pay attention. God is speaking. Are you listening?

Janani Luwum: Of Martyrs and Men

An icon of Janani Luwum, martyr and Archbishop of  the Church of Uganda

The stories of the Old Testament, the First Testament, always get me excited to follow God. When I hear about Moses taking God’s People across the Red Sea, or David slinging stones at Goliath, or Daniel in the Lion’s Den my heart races and I want to charge out of Church to take on any foe of the LORD, even if I realize quickly that God really wants no enemies. I get that same butterfly feeling in my stomach hearing today’s lesson from Daniel featuring Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Let’s go out and jump into a pit of fire! RIGHT? COME ON!

When I hear stories about martyred saints though I get another feeling altogether. Those happy butterflies turn into nauseating pterodactyls. The story about the person of God that we celebrate today in the Church is a terrifying and inspiring tale of Faith, valor, and moral fortitude. We remember this day Janani Luwum.

Luwum was born in 1922 in Northern Uganda. He was a teacher and lay reader before being sent to Canterbury (St. Augustine’s) to be trained as an ordained minister. As a priest he served twenty-four congregations for several years, taught at a local theological school, and went back to England for further studies (London College of Divinity). God called him to serve as bishop of Northern Ugandan in 1969. Five years later he was elected Archbishop of Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, and Boga-Zaire. Luwum’s service to the Church stands out as noble; however, what happened once he became Archbishop reflects clearly the light of Christ!

At that time Idi Amin was standing in power as a military dictator in Uganda. Amin ruled brutally over the people. Government troops ransacked a university where Luwum was the chair. After drafting a memorandum of protest against the state-sanctioned practices of rape and murder, the government-military searched Luwum’s home for arms. Amin soon summoned Luwum to his palace. With other Anglican, Catholic bishops, and even Muslim leaders Luwum went to the headquarters of Amin. The dictator accused Luwum of a murderous plot, then let most of the clerics go freely. Luwum was made to stay, and said to his friends, “They are going to kill me. I am not afraid.” Never was he seen alive again, but instead of telling the truth the government lied to its people saying Luwum died in a car accident while resisting arrest. Later his bullet-filled body was given to his family for a proper burial.

The stories of the Old Testament help us to not be afraid walking into the face of danger, opposing those in earthly seats of power. And yet, the story of Christ’s betrayal, torture, crucifixion, and death and that retelling through the martyrs of the Church encourage us to share the Good News even in the face of persecution. Yes, they do not have a neat, tidy, and happy ending. Yes, it seems awfully far-fetched that any of us will die a martyr’s death. Still, Luwum’s story is the story of Jesus. And, we are called in no less a way to make Christ known even in the face of drastic repercussions.

Martyrs teach us again the lesson that Jesus shared from the Cross. We must stand up to oppression of all kinds, but those who die preaching the Good News did not wake up one morning and think, “Today seems like a good day to be a martyr.” No, they had been practicing for this moment for years and years. To be a martyr means that we die, so that Christ might live in us. As Paul wrote to the Galatians, “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” This is the goal, the end for all of us who call ourselves Christians. 

We are called to in small ways let go of our individual selves, so that Christ may live in our stead. Take time each day sacrificing something else, so that you may pray. Carve out moments to dwell in God’s Holy Word. Take opportunities to serve those who are hurting, poor, and hungry in this world. This is the road to martyrdom. Yes, those Old Testament stories teach us not to be afraid, but the stories of martyrs show us the way that each of us must go courageously giving up our selves, so that Christ may be born through us. Be bold, be courageous, sacrifice yourself, so that Christ may live! 

Learning How To Wait

Don't like waiting? Simeon and Anna can teach you!

A few days ago I was attempting to find the shortest line at the grocery store. After a quick sweep I found my opening, even at just after 5 o’clock when so many people flood the neighborhood market I got in line behind only one person. It was a self-checkout aisle, which sometimes means one has to wait a little longer if someone has a lot of alcohol in their cart or are particularly slow, but I liked my chances. I was going to be in and out! Then it happened.

The man turned around and said to me, “I’m just warning you, but I’m slow!” At first I thought about abandoning ship, but as I had my collar on and more notably there was someone who had jumped in line right after me, I said the first kind thing that popped into my head, “I’m in the business of waiting.” He nodded at me and we made some small talk for a few minutes. Then, his wife walked up. The man reiterated his earlier statement, “I told him I’m slow honey.” She laughed, and even though the person behind me in line had long moved to a quicker aisle and was now walking out the door, I stayed there. I said to the couple, “Patience is a virtue.” The wife smiled, looked at me, and her expression turned somber. She looked me dead in the eye and calmly stated, “It is, but I won’t ever ask God for it.”

Dozens of times I have heard some version of this pithy response to “patience is a virtue” expressed. It may be a virtue, but I won’t ask for it. Patience might be the most maligned of all holy behavior. Sure, celibacy is not in vogue. Yes, sobriety among Catholics and Episcopalians isn’t popular. And of course, no one really wants to take on living in poverty. Still, I hear more snide comments about patience than any of these others. Perhaps it is because we all come face-to-face with our inadequacies in the patience arena all the time. I personally have been trying to get good at patience since a young age.

As a kid, when my sister was at dance rehearsals I would run around on the playground next to the studio where she took lessons. Toward the end of the time, which always felt longer than it was, my mom would call me over to watch for my sister. I did not particularly want to sit still, so she turned it into a game. She would ask if whoever was walking down the street towards our car was my sister. “Is that huge man your sister?” “NO!” (huge laughter) “Is that old lady your sister?” “NO!” (rolling on the floor laughing). Finally my sister would arrive and I would joyfully walk with my family to the car. As I reflect back I can see that patience can be full of joy, laughter, and hope, as much as it can be seen as difficult, irritating, and uncomfortable.

Today’s we have transferred our celebration of the Presentation of Our Lord when Jesus was brought by Mary and Joseph to the Temple. This was a Jewish custom. 40 days after a first boy was born the parents would bring him to the Temple to dedicate him to God’s service. As they were good Jews Jesus’ parents brought him there to be presented. While this part of the story is fun, as we imagine the baby Jesus all swaddled up in clothes, what stands out in this story is the hopeful expectation of two Temple dwellers, Simeon and Anna.

The Holy Spirit spoke to Simeon telling him that he would not die before seeing the Messiah. Anna believed in God’s immanent coming so much that she never left the Temple, even as an eighty-four year old woman. We might imagine that spending that much time waiting to see God would wear on someone; however, Simeon’s words spell out just how hopeful, excited, and elated he was in that moment of seeing all his calling fulfilled.

“Lord you now have set your servant free, to go in peace as you have promised. For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior whom you have prepared for all the world to see. A light to enlighten the nations and the glory of your people Israel.” I say these words, known as the Song of Simeon, at night when I say compline. And, I think that slowly but surely Simeon’s witness and Anna’s example are shaping me into someone who seeks out hope as I expect God’s coming into this world.

I believe that Christ comes to each of us in our hearts, in our lives, and in our relationships with those around us. We might not see it easily or at first, but despite what all those sarcastic people will say, pray for patience that one day you will see a clear glimpse of Christ’s presence. Simeon and Anna stand out as examples of waiting and watching for Christ to come. We too are invited by God to see that the Divine One is incarnate within our lives. Be patient and we will see Christ coming!

For the sermon audio link click here.

The Bad News Gospel

Doing something new can be great, but what about when God makes things new?

Variety is the spice of life. At least that is what some people like to say. In whatever relationship we find ourselves, whether it is with a loved one, such as a spouse or child, or even a friend, neighbor, or stranger, trying something new or different can lead to a new level of connection. This does not always go smoothly though.

I have heard horror stories, mind you never in my own relationships, about how one partner will try something new, only to have it blow up in her or his face. A doting husband attempts to make a home cooked meal, but only succeeds in getting the fire department to come put out the flames. A couple tries to learn the lyrics to a Taylor Swift song only to embarrass their teenage daughter. A woman does her best to buy lunch for a homeless man only to have him throw the food on the ground. Still, what steadily builds relationships are not times when we get it exactly correct, but times when despite fumbling the attempt we love one another. Even if or when the affection we show backfires, the “failed” attempt gives new life to that relationship.

Our relationship with God works in the same way. Often we require a new spiritual discipline, practice, or approach to give some energy to our connection with the Divine. We can no doubt think of countless times when we bought a fresh devotional, checked out a different prayer website, or joined a different prayer group, and these are helpful in jump starting how we perceive and relate to God. But, what about when God does something new?

Today’s Gospel story from Luke is a continuation of the tale that began last week. Jesus pulled into Nazareth. He went to the synagogue as was his usual routine. In the midst of the religious leaders he stood up and someone handed him the scroll from Isaiah. He unfurled it to the following passage:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
Because he has anointed me
To bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To let the oppressed go free,
To proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

The prophet Isaiah foretold of the Messiah in many different ways (being born of a Virgin, one preparing the way, a Galilean ministry, undergoing suffering, and on and on); however, Jesus chose these words to talk about his own ministry. This in and of itself is a surprising autobiographical description, so when the people in the synagogue heard this of course their response was being amazed.

Imagine for a moment we too were there sitting at the local place of worship. Think about someone you have known for your entire life, then all of a sudden they read a hopeful message of redemption, and instead of saying, “Doesn’t this sound great?” she says, “This has been fulfilled in your hearing.” At first we might say, “Oh wow!” we are part of hearing God doing something new. And yet, the surprising thing that Jesus says to those who heard him long ago and to those of us who hear him today is not that this prophecy is fulfilled in their hearing, but in something more than just a certain group hearing some good news.

Jesus went on to talk about a widow at Zarephath in the time of Elijah and Naaman the Syrian in the age of Elisha. We might wonder why mentioning these two would make those in the synagogue indignant enough to try to murder Jesus. Simply put, these stories depict God including those whom the religious folk were not ready to accept. The problem for those synagogue-goers and for us church-goers is not that God extends the good news of releasing, lifting up, healing, and freeing to us. No, the dilemma is that God extends this good news to the people we do not like, understand, or respect. As Evan put it this week in a blog: “The good news of salvation is about you, but it isn't only about you. If you think it's only about you, then it isn't for you after all.” I would say it this way: God loves you. This is good news. However, if you think that God only loves you, this is no longer the good news. In fact, it’s bad news.

This is what was going on in Corinth when Paul wrote this bit we heard today about love. No, he was not writing to them about weddings. Some in the church thought that it was only about them. There was in-fighting, anger, and bitterness in this diverse church. Paul told them they could speak eloquently, prophesy boldly, and even understand mysteries; they could have faith to move mountains, sacrifice their bodies, and empty their bank accounts for one another; they could do every good work, but without love they were just noise; without love they were nothing.
The love that God gives to us is not meant just for us. We are meant to share that love. If we withhold that love, then even our best works turn to nothing. God announced through Elijah, Elisha, and most notably through Jesus that God’s love is for all. If someone says that God’s love is only for his group, her church, or a certain religion, then they are no longer speaking good news, but bad news. And, I have had enough bad news.

God is doing something new, but in some ways it is the same thing that God has always being doing. Jesus announces the year of the Lord’s favor, and in hearing it this Scripture has been fulfilled. This is Good News not just for us, but for everyone. God releases, lifts up, heals, and frees all. If we say it is for only us and our own, then it is no longer good news, but the bad news gospel. We are not called to preach the bad news, but the Good News. God shows love to all and our response is simply to share that love with all. This is the Good News.