opc blog

(the service didn’t get recorded this week. sorry. But here’s a bonus special message from Marthame)

Marthame Sanders (Marthame’s sermons and other reflections are also available on his blog)

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20
2 Kings 5:1-19

This week we pick up where the story of Elisha left off last week – Elijah, the great prophet, passes on the prophetic mantle to Elisha. And Elisha goes on to have his own impressive prophetic career, though he was constantly overshadowed by Elijah.

This week is really the only story that pops up in the lectionary, and I’ve been trying all week to think of a modern-day example that might parallel with this one. In any case, Aram (roughly the equivalent of modern-day Syria and Lebanon) is a military powerhouse; on one of their raids into Israel (roughly the equivalent of the northern part of modern-day Israel and the West Bank), Aram has seized a young Israelite girl, who now finds herself in the service of Naaman, commander of the Aramean army. Naaman is this imposing figure in the story; no doubt he was legendary not only in Aram but in Israel as well. And yet, he is plagued by some kind of skin disease. For whatever reason he listens to the advice of this slave girl who suggests he seek healing from the prophet in Israel. Being a man of power, he plies the channels of power: his king sends a note to the king of Israel, who assumes the worst, that this is some kind of trick. He won’t be able to heal Naaman, and Aram will have an excuse to strike.

Fortunately, Elisha overhears and calls for Naaman to come visit him. And yet he doesn’t even bother to see him face-to-face but tells him to go down to the River Jordan and wash. This irritates Naaman not only because he is powerful and used to being treated with respect, but because he senses a national arrogance on Elisha’s part that stirs up his own. “That pathetic little river? We’ve got two near Damascus which are more impressive than that!” And he’s pretty much right. Even so, his servants convince him to give it a shot. He does and is cured.

The lectionary stops there, but the rest of the story fascinates me. It’s mostly about the attempt of Naaman to provide Elisha with a gift for services rendered. Elisha refuses; but Naaman carts off several loads of soil, the thought being that, if he’s going to have to accompany the King of Aram to worship Rimmon (or Hadad, the fertility god of the Arameans), he can scatter a little Israelite soil first so that he’s actually worshiping the one god in whom he believes, Yahweh, the God of Israel.

Like I said, I tried to find a current example that could help open up this story for us. First, I had to answer a series of questions: if it’s U.S., then are we Israel? Do we have something to offer the rest of the world? Or are we Aram, the massive military power? And if we are in the story, who is our enemy? Is it Al Qaeda? Iran? North Korea? Russia? If you’ve got an idea, I’d be happy to hear it; but the best I could do was this:

Vladimir Putin visits the White House and says to Barack Obama, “When I lift my arm like this, it hurts…” And Obama sends him to the Surgeon General.

Oh well. No parallel. But perhaps if we dig into the meaning of the text it might help. Aram is powerful; Israel is scared. They’ve been beaten in battle before. And the King of Israel is worried about a Trojan horse of source, a trick to attack and conquer. It is a time of national and tribal gods; each king, each nation has their own god; and each military battle is really celestial combat among the many divine powers. It’s because of this that Naaman goes to the king first, not the prophet; because it’s the king who rules the nation. And God, the God of Scriptures, Yahweh, is the national god of Israel and Judah. The miracle is that, even though Yahweh’s people are defeated – and, in fact, in the time of Jesus are conquered and occupied – it is this god that triumphs as God of all nations through the ages. What we see as defeat is not always a loss in God’s book.

Perhaps there’s no parallel because history has moved on from this last point. In our own nation, the idea of “separation of church and state” has a powerful place in our identity (despite debates over what this exactly means). There are some nations that still claim a national deity or faith, but no longer do we see these as polytheistic battles. Even in a place like the Islamic Republic of Iran, there is at last acknowledgement that there are minority religious communities that have some sense of citizenship and rights…imperfect, yes, but they’re not seen as worshiping another god.

So back to the story. Initially, it’s about power – Yahweh/God v. Rimmon/Hadad. Aram has defeated Israel in battle; and yet, in this story, it is Yahweh, the god of Israel, who is more powerful than Hadad, the god of Aram. But as the story continues, the meaning of the story shifts: it’s about Naaman’s conversion. Not only does he come to believe in Yahweh by virtue of his personal experience; in fact, he comes to believe in Yahweh as THE God – not one among many, but the sole and single God above all.

Here is the story in its barest form: a man with an affliction gets advice from surprising places. He comes seeking healing in surprising places. And his life is changed forever.

Do we have the faith of Naaman? Or do we have the faith of Elisha? Do we have enough faith in our faith to be a transformative faith?

I’ve seen us share stories of miracle healings with others:

• “You’ve got arthritis? Me, too…Have you tried Glucosamine? It’s fantastic.”
• “Have you tried acupuncture? I know, I thought it was weird, too, but ever since I visited Dr. Kim…”
• “Well, my sinus issues all cleared up after I dropped wheat and dairy from my diet. It’s made all the difference…”

And it’s not just with physical health that we make these recommendations:

• “Have you read The Shack? Oh, my goodness! You have to read it! You’ll never look at life the same way again!”
• “Gran Torino – best Clint Eastwood film I’ve ever seen. If you can get past the language, it is so layered…”
• “Oh, man; the new Sufjan Stevens album takes his music to another level. Absolutely his best…”
• “You like Indian food? Well, have you ever tried Panahar? Oh, yeah, it’s right over there on Buford Highway. Amazing…”

How do we take our zeal for such things and translate it into zeal for faith? I think, if we examine our story, it takes three things:

1. It takes risk. It was a risk for Naaman to cross over into enemy territory. And is was a risk for Elisha to stand up to the king and welcome Naaman without any kind of suspicion.
2. It takes trust. Elisha had to trust that Naaman’s quest didn’t have some kind of hidden agenda. And he also had to trust that Elisha had the very thing that Naaman needed for his healing.
3. And it takes wisdom. It takes wisdom for Naaman to listen to a foreign slave girl; it takes wisdom for him to listen to his servants again. And it takes wisdom for Elisha to know it’ll be OK to heal a foreign military leader. This wisdom, perhaps, is what ties this story in with the gospel reading from Luke. The seventy disciples, sent out by Jesus, have to figure out where to go; they have to have the wisdom to know what to proclaim; they have to know when it is time to stay and when it is time to get moving.

Do we have what it takes? Can we take a risk? Lean into trust? Rely on God’s wisdom? Above all, I think we need to remember that faith is not a panacea. Having faith in the God we know in Jesus Christ doesn’t fix everything. As the bumper sticker says, “Jesus is the answer.” But what’s the question? In my opinion, if someone is pitching faith as something that means you’ll always win, they’ve moved from religion into delusion. Faith, instead, says that God triumphs even when we’re defeated. Grace and mercy will always persist. Healing is much, much bigger than the limitations we put on it. And resurrection, the promise that there is more to this life than meets the eye, is still true.

Faith isn’t about answering everyone’s questions and defending theological treatises. It’s much more honest than that; it admits that we don’t know everything. But it shares what we have seen and realities we know in which lives are changed forever:

• “Have you heard about the Druid Hills Night Shelter? It’s an amazing to homeless man; they get off the streets and back on their feet…”
• “You should’ve seen our Habitat build; I’ve never seen a group like this gathered anywhere else – different races, different denominations, people crossing all kinds of boundaries to work with this homeowner who is willing to do what it takes to give their family another chance…”
• “You won’t believe the people that come to our church. They’re young and old, they’re conservative and liberal, they like traditional pipe organs and contemporary praise choruses. But somehow, they all love each other and trust that we’re serving God through what we do together…”

My hope for our July services is not just that we’ll create a little bit more work or that we’ll have a different kind of worship or that I don’t have to wear a tie. Instead, it is my hope that, by virtue of moving outside we’ll learn a little bit of what it means to move beyond what we know and into what God knows.

Amen.

On July 6, Jill Patterson Tolbert joins us as the Minister for Congregational Life at OPC!

Jill graduated from Mercer University in 1988 with a BA in Psychology and Human Development and Services. After graduation, she obtained her state teaching certificate and worked at her first vocational calling, teaching middle school math, for five years. She married her husband Joel in 1990, and their first son Adam was born in 1994, which led to her second calling, that of being a stay-at-home mom. Son Daniel was born in 1996, followed closely by Michael in 1998.  She maintains that her time at home with the boys was her hardest, yet most rewarding, job to date!  During her time at home, she was active in the life and worship of Immanuel Presbyterian Church in Montgomery, AL, where she served as an elder, and of Fourth Presbyterian Church in Greenville, SC, where she served as a deacon, as well as a member of the PW Coordinating Council.

In 2002, their family moved from Greenville, SC, to Decatur so that her husband Joel could pursue his calling into the ministry through studying at Columbia Theological Seminary.  Once their family was settled in Decatur, Jill responded to God’’s call to ordained ministry, and began her seminary studies in the summer of 2003.  She graduated in 2007, and now serves as the Presbyterian Campus Minister at Emory University. Additionally, she is a contract writer with the denomination for their adult study curriculum, The Present Word, and has also written for At This Point, an online journal published by Columbia Theological Seminary for the purpose of offering “thoughtful and provocative resources to stimulate growth in Christ”.

In her spare time, Jill enjoys creating art at her potter’s wheel in her in-home studio, as well as reading and spending time with friends over a good cup of coffee or a glass of wine.  Her husband Joel serves as pastor of Rehoboth
Presbyterian Church in Decatur.

visit Jill’s blog at hospitalityhouse.blogspot.com

Marthame Sanders (Marthame’s sermons and other reflections are also available on his blog)

Luke 9:51-62
2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14

In today’s lesson, we see the transfer of power from Elijah to Elisha. Elijah is modeled on Moses: both flee into the wilderness in fear where their call is clarified; both are able to part the water; and both have a death which is shrouded in mystery. Elisha becomes Joshua to Elijah’s Moses. Both Elisha and Joshua are rooted in the word “saving” – Joshua means “Yahweh saves”; Elisha means “God saves”. Joshua is also the Hebrew form of Jesus’ name.

Today we read about Elijah’s travel across the Jordan – out of the land of Israel and into the “wilderness”. And in the story, Elisha picks up Elijah’s mantle or cloak (this story is the origin of the phrase, by the way). And just as Elijah’s mantle parted the waters of the Jordan, it does the same in the hands of Elisha.

Elijah is a tough act to follow; and Elisha knows this. In the Old Testament, he is second only to Moses. He stood up to Ahab and Jezebel; and he disappears in a whirlwind! Now that’s an exit. Elisha, by virtue of parting the waters himself, establishes his own prophetic power. He has parallel miracles, including healing, feeding, and raising from the dead. He even takes on corrupt power, lending a hand in a coup. But he’s very different; when he dies, he dies. No whirlwind or chariot. And he’s a hands-off prophet at times, doing miracles from a distance or by proxy.

But the odd thing about the story today is that the transfer of power happens outside of the land of Israel. It happens in the wilderness. It’s the place of solitude and silence. It’s a place to flee. It’s a place of homelessness and wandering. It’s a place of wildness – not in the way we might covet a place to get away; but a place devoid of water, a place with jackals and thieves and sandstorms. Think about the stories in Scripture in the wilderness: Moses flees there when fearing for his life. The Israelites spend forty years there wandering aimlessly. Elijah, too, flees there when fearing Ahab and Jezebel. In the New Testament, John the Baptist is hanging out there, wild hair, clothes, and diet. And before Jesus begins his public ministry, it is in the wilderness where he spends forty days in temptation. Wilderness is a place of purification and refinement. For Elisha, it is where he picks up the prophetic mantle and begins his own impressive prophetic career.

But is there more to the choice of location than all this? Could it be a reverse Exodus of sorts, Elijah tracing the Israelites steps back into wilderness? Is it a reminder of what is at stake in prophetic ministry, a reminder of what this land of promise meant to their ancestors? Or is it a way of getting out of the land that has been defiled, the split kingdoms of Israel and Judah, which have been ruled by corrupt kings? Do they need to go somewhere that is somehow purer for this ritual of exchange, even if it’s a place of such wildness? Or is it just a reminder that the prophetic life is a lonely life, a life of solitude, where you’re facing down powers and principalities?

Maybe somewhere in there is a parallel with our lesson from Luke. Jesus confronts would-be disciples with the realities of what it means to follow him. The first he tells that following him is akin to a life of homeless wandering. Another he tells, quite bluntly, “let the dead bury their dead.” The other he tells to ignore the work he’s left undone. In all cases, I think Jesus is essentially telling them that there must be some sacrifice in following him. It’s not a universal – each person gets an individual response. But the heart of them all is a call: it’s a call to be willing to let go what they have for the promise of what they might gain.

Maybe it’s this call that is the call of wilderness. It’s a place that is in-between. For Elisha, perhaps it’s that call of letting go of a land that’s defiled for the promise of a land where faith can be restored. Or maybe it’s letting go of what’s he has known, following Elijah, for the promise that the mantle holds like some kind of prophetic security blanket, that he is now God’s spokesman.

Can we trust such a place of in-between? Do we prefer to latch onto a bitterness that we know is toxic but is oh-so-familiar? Do we hang onto a destructive addiction because, for the moment, it feels oh-so-good? Have we been asked to step into a new role, but feel like we’re in over our heads? In all of this, in this freaky, wild place of in-between, this is where we can see resurrection for what it really is: letting go of death for the promise of life.

Where is your wilderness? Where is it that you can be alone? Where can you get re-oriented? And once you’re there, are you willing to let go? Are you willing to take hold of that promise?

Amen.

Marthame:
Tiffany, so much has happened in the three years that you’ve been with us that it is hard for me to believe that it has been such a short time. Then again, Jesus’ ministry was only three years.

But don’t worry—I don’t think a trial or a cross awaits you today. Instead, we want to thank you for all that you have done. You have touched more lives and planted more seeds than you know, seed that will continue to grow in the years to come. So we set aside this time today in the midst of worship to give thanks to God, because it is God who has been working through you as we have worked together.

Your ministry here has been far-ranging; rather than try to summarize it briefly, it seems better that some in our community would share with you a word of their own that expresses their gratitude on behalf of all of OPC.

from the Graves’ girls:

Dear Mrs. Tiffany,  We will miss you.  We hope you visit.  I love you xoxo.  We will miss you being our pastor.

from Susannah Morris:

            Tiffany, one of my clearest memories of youth group with you is of a Bible study during my senior year of high school.  We’d read from Matthew Ch. 25, where Jesus tells the disciples that at the day of judgment, those who feed the hungry, quench the thirst of parched throats, clothe the naked, and visit those sick and in prison will find that they were in fact serving Jesus himself. 

            I’d heard the passage many times before, but the words you said next have shaped my life dramatically.  You said that each time we meet somebody, in a real and tangible way we encounter Jesus face to face.  Though none of us is the Messiah, God, for some odd reason, has chosen to dwell in human flesh, and in turn calls us to recognize the Divine presence in every person we meet, and even in ourselves.  We each, every single one of us, bear the image of God. 

            Tiffany, time after time since that Bible study, I’ve thought back to your words.  Moving on to college and new opportunities for study, fun, and ministry, when I’ve encountered a person who challenges me fundamentally, I’ve often thought, “So this is how Jesus meets me today.”  That day in youth group, you unknowingly offered me a way to see other people that I think brings me closer to the love of others and God I yearn to embody.

            In your three years at OPC, Tiffany, you’ve modeled that transformative encounter for me and for all of us here.  A Methodist, you came to serve at a Presbyterian church.  You’ve brought new energy, new perspectives, and a love that has touched many lives, including mine.  But you’ve also brought a willingness to listen and adapt, a respect for our traditions, and even a tolerance for congregational meetings with oddly prophetic pre-written minutes.  And in your encounter with this congregation, I know I’ve caught sight of Jesus among us.

            Tiffany, we offer you this Presbyterian Book of Order signed by John Calvin himself (or so Marthame claims), knowing full well that you are a Methodist, as a reminder of God’s work in unlikely encounters between broken and blessed people like us. 

Amy Cate, representing the Deacons:

Saying goodbye to a good friend is one of the toughest things we all have to do.  Saying goodbye to someone like Tiffany seems even harder. You have been so much to so many of us.  We have been in your Bible studies; you have guided and loved each of our children; you have been with us at hospitals and prayed for our sick loved ones; you have been with some of us through times of death; you have counseled some of us and been a sincere listener—or just a shoulder to cry on; you have prayed for each and every one of us. And if that isn’t enough, you have always had your beautiful smile, sweet voice and big hugs waiting for us.

So how do we say goodbye to you?  We are lucky in this day that we have e-mail, cell phones, Facebook, Skype and so on because all of these things make it easier to be in touch.

But through God, we have something even better!  We have his promise of eternal friendship!  We know that although our paths may not cross again on earth, we will be together again. God gives us the gift of holding Tiffany in our heart and thinking of her and praying for her anytime we want to be with her.

As I thought of your departure this week, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my teenage years when the youth director of my childhood was called to another church. Our church, and especially our youth, was heartbroken.  One way we showed him our commitment to our friendship was through song.  It also helped some of us cope with sadness. I want to teach you all this song today. You may already know it—it may be special to you—and maybe you will find yourself humming or singing it and you can lift your thoughts to God for Tiffany:

Friends
by: Michael W. Smith and Deborah D.  Smith

Friends are friends forever
If the Lord’s the Lord of them.
And a friend will not say never
‘cause the welcome will not end.  
Thought it’s hard to let you go
In the Father’s hands we know
That a lifetime’s not too long
To live as friends

Marthame:
My turn. I hope during our time together that I have thanked you adequately to let you know how much I appreciate you and the many, many gifts you bring to ministry. You have had an impact on our children, our youth, our congregational care, our Christian Education, our worship. Indeed, you have had a role ion shaping just about every area of our ministry at OPC.

I have had the pleasure not only of calling you colleague and friend, but of also watching you grow into your call as God’s servant. When you arrived, you were still in Seminary. I know you were still unsure of your gifts for ministry at the time, but you were so certain of your passion to be a part of God’s kingdom in tangible ways. And even though I was ultimately unable to persuade you of the error of your ways as a Methodist, I am convinced that your call to ministry began long before you ever set foot at OPC. Our joy has been to watch that call become more deeply rooted within you and we have benefited from that gift.

You have a heart for justice for all of God’s people; a vision of radical community inclusion without barriers; a passion for worship that matters, and education that nurtures and challenges; a spirit that weeps with those who mourn and dances with those who celebrate. In short, you are Pastor Tiffany. You are God’s servant. And God is well-pleased with you.

Now I know that you have coveted my embroidered Jerusalem stoles, and hereby cleanse you of this blatant violation of the ninth commandment by presenting you with your own.

We love you. We will miss you. And we pray for you as you and Tim take this next step on your journey together.

Hear these words from Scripture:
You are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

Tiffany, in your baptism our Lord Jesus Christ put his name on you and received you into the church. You have always been a precious child of God made in the image of God. We have rejoiced in your incredible ministry here at OPC with us. God has blessed you and made you a blessing in our life together.

As we join our voices with God’s in saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” we want you to know that we will miss your many gifts for ministry, We love you. And we are deeply, deeply grateful to you for all that you have done and continue to do for the sake of God’s kingdom, And now as you and Tim head to Maryland, you are taking a new step in your faith journey. And so this charge is quite fitting:

Go in peace. Go in love. Go in the spirit of Christ.

Know that your ministry with us has served the cause of Christ in this community. Well done, good and faithful servant.

Go in peace. Go in love. Go in the spirit of Christ.

May your deepening commitment to Christ become your starting point as you enter this next step of your journey.

Go in peace. Go in love. Go in the spirit of Christ.

Let us pray: Faithful God, we are grateful for all the evidence of your grace we have seen at work through Tiffany. Keep, preserve, and protect her and Tim all of their days. By the power of the Holy Spirit, may they continue to be salt of the earth and light for the world. Keep them faithful to you, in prayer, worship, and service, in the years to come. Lead them forward, secure in the faith that binds us forever in the body of Christ. May we ever remain on in Christ’s name. Amen.

(the service didn’t get recorded this week. sorry. But here’s a bonus special message from Marthame)

Tiffany Kromer (Tiffany’s sermons and other reflections are also available on her blog)

Luke 8:26-39
1 Kings 19:1-15

A few years ago, Tim and I visited my parents’ home in Kailua, Hawaii on the island of Oahu…my dad was stationed there at an Air Force base at the time and Tim and I were excited about exploring the whole island. On one of our last days there, we thought it would be a good idea to hike to the northernmost tip of the island. The path was a rocky beach, with a lot of volcano rocks to climb over. It was also a endangered bird preserve with tons of large birds hovering over our heads. We started out in the middle of the afternoon, thinking that we’d be back way before sundown. We got to the northern tip of the island and sat there for a little bit, admiring the expanse of the Pacific Ocean and the sea lion we found sun-bathing on the beach. As we started our way back to the car, we started to hurry because we saw the sun starting to lower. As we walked and climbed our way back, we started running out of water in our water bottles and became a bit panicked once we realized how long it was going to take to get back to the car. Would we make it back before the sun went down? So, being the great wilderness explorers we were, I pulled out my cell phone and called my dad in a panic, telling him that we completely underestimated how long this trail was and that we might get stuck in the dark without light to find our way back. So being the great dad he is, he starts out on the 45 minute drive to the northern part of the island where he would rescue us from our misguided adventure. Thinking back on it, there really wasn’t much that my dad could do for us, but just knowing that we weren’t alone in this wilderness experience gave us strength to keep going. Turns out, just as my dad pulled up next to our car, we arrived at our car, grateful but a bit embarrassed that my dad had to drive all that way to get us.

Elijah didn’t have the luxury of a cell phone he could pull out to call a friend for help when he was in trouble. He couldn’t call a suicide hotline number or an ambulance. He was stuck in the wilderness he chose to go into. He was running, running from everything in his life, running from his job, his responsibilities, even God. He was afraid, afraid for his life. Ironically, in running for his life, he prays to God for his life to end. He is exhausted and discouraged and overwhelmed.

I love that this story is in the Bible. It shows how profoundly human this great prophet is. I mean, the passage before this story is completely different. It shows Elijah as victorious – as saving the day! Theoretically, Elijah should be anything but discouraged. He should be pumped and ready for anything life throws his way. But Elijah is far from that. He’s ready to die. He’s ready to give up. He’s a human being who is just fed up and overwhelmed and exhausted. And, Jezebel wants to kill him, and even though Elijah has handled far worse than Jezebel, he decides to run away instead. It’s just too much for him to handle.

Have you ever felt like this? Life throws everything at you all at once and you find yourself exhausted and overwhelmed and all you can do is throw up your arms and go to sleep. Maybe if you sleep long enough and hard enough you’ll wake up and it will all be a dream and you can wake up to a life a bit more manageable.

However, Elijah forgot about something very important. He could run away from Jezebel, but he could never run away from God. God is with him always, always providing for him, always loving him. Notice that in this story we don’t see God chastising Elijah for running away. Instead, we see God taking care of Elijah, weaning him back to strength. Elijah’s battery is on empty and God is recharging him for the work ahead. I picture God here as a nurse taking care of a sick child, listening patiently, making sure the child takes their medicine and gets enough sleep. Elijah tells God what’s wrong and God is there with him, taking care of him.

Once Elijah is strong enough, God calls him to the mountaintop. And the purpose of this mountaintop experience is not to chastise Elijah. It is to show Elijah that God is even in the small, unexpected things. Sure, it’s easy to see God’s power in earthquakes and wind and fire, but in a whisper—in the silence? Yes, God is most powerful in the small things, the things you’d never expect God to work through.

This mountaintop experience served as a reality check to Elijah. When he stood at attention before God on that mountain, he centered his life in God once again. That’s the only way he could hear God’s whisper, when he’s out of the cave he was hiding and on top of the mountain with his focus entirely on God.

I think this is a great metaphor for prayer. In our lives, there is a ton of loud noise and situations vying for our attention. Silence is a luxury that will only come when we purposely seek it out. And, it is in the silence that we hear God most clearly. And silence isn’t just a lack of noise, it’s also silencing our mind and body so that we can focus on only God. And, yes, that is so hard to do. That’s why prayer is called a spiritual practice. Prayer is a lifelong practice where we practice silencing the noise in our minds and bodies and centering ourselves in God.

OPC will always be so special to me because it was the first church I was called to in ministry. When I first started ministry with you at OPC, I knew it was the right place because of the overwhelming joy I felt in everything I did in ministry. Every day, I came home filled up with good things and confident in God’s call for me to be in ministry here. But, pretty soon things got really busy and that feeling of joy was not enough to sustain me. I became exhausted and overwhelmed, even over the tiniest things. Through talking with my mentors, I realized that in order to take care of others, I had to take care of myself and, in fact, that was part of my calling as well. Prayer and taking a Sabbath day became non-negotiable practices in my life that filled me back up when my battery was completely empty. And, when I practice prayer and Sabbath consistently and well—that is when I hear God whispering to me in the small things in ways I never expected.

The thing I think I’ve found most rewarding about prayer and taking time to rest, is that once I am filled back up, suddenly my life is not centered around me anymore—it is centered around God and where God is calling me to go and how to be God’s hands and feet.

And that’s where we find Elijah after his mountaintop experience. God asks him, “So Elijah what are you doing here in the wilderness, so far away from home?” And Elijah answers honestly, “I’ve been working my heart out for God, because the people of Israel have abandoned your covenant, destroyed your places of worship, and murdered your prophets. I’m the only one left, and now they’re trying to kill me.”

Yet, in the midst of Elijah’s honest discouragement, God does not let Elijah to go back to his cave and wallow in his loneliness and frustration. Instead, God calls Elijah out of the wilderness—to go back to the scary world he just left and to do ministry. God’s care for Elijah now turns to confidence in Elijah’s call to prophetic ministry. Elijah has rested, filled himself up with nourishment from God, and centered himself in God—although he is scared and still frustrated, he’s ready to go back into ministry. And God will be with him throughout the whole journey. And there will come a time when Elijah will need to retreat and rest and nourish and center himself in God’s presence again. And after regaining his strength, he will go out again. This sacred rhythm is what God teaches Elijah in the wilderness, so that he never gets to the point where he’d rather die than do what he’s called to do.

So, what does Elijah’s journey into the wilderness and back teach you today? Are you running on empty? How can you establish a rhythm in your life where you work hard, but you also find times to recharge your battery and center yourself in God through prayer and Sabbath rest.

And what does Elijah’s journey into the wilderness and back teach Oglethorpe Presbyterian Church? This is an important time in the life of this community of faith. There is a lot of transition, a lot of important decisions to be made, a lot of ministry to do. Even though all this can be exciting, it is easy to get overwhelmed and even frustrated with it all. Because of fear of the unknown, it is easy to turn inward and only focus on the existing members here. But I want to challenge you to resist that temptation.

Yes, the unknown is scary, but remember that God is with you, caring for you and loving you now and the entire journey ahead. Center yourselves in God, pray pray pray pray and pray some more. And then go out and do what God has called you to do—to share the good news of Jesus Christ! You are Christ’s disciples equipped and called for the transformation of the world! Don’t give up, because God will never give up on you. And if you ever feel like you want to give up, rely on that tried and true sacred rhythm of working hard—but rest and pray and center yourself in God as well. OPC is a hard working church, with many thriving and powerful ministries in our community. But there is a time to work hard and there is a time to rest in the presence of God. I pray that you do both, for the sake of your own survival. And as you center yourselves in God through prayer, listen for God whispering to you in the most unexpected places about the most unexpected things. God is doing a new, exciting thing here at Oglethorpe Presbyterian Church. Can we silence our own ideas and opinions and frustrations to hear God whispering truth and love us?

I am honored to have been one of your pastors. It has been an amazing three years in my life and the life of this church. I have seen new growth and energy in the life of this church. I’ve had the privilege of getting to know many of you and partner in ministry with you. You have the most amazing young people and children. Because of the nurture and love they get from this church, I know that God is preparing them for a future that is very bright. You have nurtured and taught me so much about myself as a minister. Through you, God has whispered clearly to me that I am called to be ordained. Knowing God’s call for my life, I too must go out into the unknown. And yes, the unknown is scary, but I know that God has gone before me to prepare a place for me and Tim and that God is always with us and taking care of us. God is doing the same for OPC. God is with you now and in your future, preparing and taking care of you every step of the way. My prayers are with you always and know that I will always look back with gratitude upon our time together in ministry. So now, as we say our goodbyes, let us also look toward the future with joy and anticipation for the new thing that God is doing! AMEN

Marthame Sanders (Marthame’s sermons and other reflections are also available on his blog)

Luke 7:36-8:3
I Kings 21:1-21

What’s in a name?

I loved reading those “Stranger Than Fiction” type stories when I was a kid. One story I remember in particular was of Johnny Nevermissashot, a Lakota Sioux Native American descended from a heralded warrior who first bore the family name for his accuracy in battle. When Johnny went to high school, the basketball coach heard of him. At 6’3″ with a name like that, he figured, the kid’s gotta be a natural. Turns out he wasn’t; he stunk at basketball. But in WWII he was drafted into action; at that point, he turned out to live up to his name after all; he was quite the warrior, serving with distinction.

What’s in a name? This summer we’re looking at some of the Old Testament prophets. The word “prophet” comes from the Greek, and it seems that the Greek meaning is what influences the way we understand what a “prophet” is. The word literally means “to say before”; in other words, to predict. And that’s often how we think of prophets, as those who predict future events. But the reality is a little different, and the Hebrew word for “prophet” sheds some light on that; the meaning in Hebrew is “spokesperson”; the prophet is a vessel for God’s message. It’s this understanding that fits more accurately with the picture of the prophets we get from Scripture as those who see clearly, who are grounded in God, and who tell the truth.

What’s in a name? As we talked about last week, the prophet Elijah’s name means “Yahweh is my God”; it’s about all we know about him. But it says something about the zeal with which he pursues his profession.

The other characters in today’s drama bring their own names with their own meaning to the story. King Ahab’s name means “uncle” – we’ll get back to that in a minute. “Jezebel” means “unproductive” or “barren” – which would have had explicit biological meaning at the time, but there’s more to it than that as we’ll see. “Naboth”, meanwhile, means “grower”; a fitting name for a farmer. And the region he lived in, Jezreel, means “God plants”; not only a fertile area, but an area almost the equivalent of God’s country.

With these in mind, let’s look at the story. Many Biblical stories have to do with planting and the use/ownership of land and earth. This is no exception. You’ve got Naboth, the grower, tending his family’s land in Jezreel, a country so abundant it’s as though God is the one who planted. Along comes King Ahab, the friendly Uncle, who betrays his own familial name by rejecting Naboth’s ancestral claim to his land. Backing him up is Jezebel, the unproductive, barren queen; and so she desires land which does produce. So blinded by that desire, she ends up framing Naboth the grower. It seems that many have been tricked by this betrayal, but God knows the truth, and so sends the Elijah the prophet, the spokesperson, the zealous one, to set the record straight. And he arrives pronouncing God’s judgment on the whole scene.

There is a grand drama taking place. Family, intrigue, covetousness, deception, murder, truth, all roll together in a way that creates this amazing scene.

And let us not forget about the element of power! Scripture often teaches us to be cautious – if not suspicious – of power. There are echoes of that in the New Testament lesson, where Jesus is at the home of Simon the Pharisee, who violates the most basic mores of Middle Eastern hospitality and is shown up by this nameless woman. Simon knew better; perhaps his power got in the way.

Ahab and Jezebel are powerful. And they manipulate that power in their favor. And in the process they brutalize Naboth the powerless.

When we try to put ourselves in this drama, I don’t think many of us see ourselves as one character or another; I think most of us have played every role at one time or another. Sometimes, we might be Elijah, speaking the truth, even to those who might hold power over us. At other times, we might resonate with Naboth, the victim of falsehood in a situation beyond our control. Perhaps we’re the Jezebel, manipulating power and circumstances to get what we want. Other times we might be Ahab, deeply desiring what isn’t rightly ours.

Which reminds me of a story. I was four years old, and it was my first year at a new school. For some reason, there was this one toy – a wooden piece of a game or something – that captivated me. I took it home in my bag one day, proudly showing it to Mom when I got home. She explained to me that we couldn’t just take things that weren’t ours. And so she sent me back to school the next day with that game piece in an envelope pinned to the front of my shirt. Of course, I learned my lesson by sheer embarrassment.

Or perhaps not. Flash forward to Junior High. It was around my birthday, and I had gotten some of those Turtles’ records gift coins and had walked to the closest store to get some albums (man…this story needs updating…). As the cashier rang them up, I realized that she had only charged me for four, even though I had bought five! Not only had I not learned my lesson about not taking what wasn’t mine; I hadn’t learned the lesson not to tell Mom when it happened. As soon as she heard, she put me in the car and drove me back to the store to explain what had happened and to pay the difference. So…I guess Mom gets to be Elijah in these two stories.

Whatever roles we might play, when we look at this story, we come to see that there isn’t a “happily ever after” ending (unless dogs licking blood is your idea of “happily ever after”). Naboth is killed. The vineyard is taken away from his family line. Ahab gets the land. He eventually dies violently, yes, but I’m not sure if that’s justice or retribution or simply revenge.

What in the world can we take from a story like this?

I may be wrong, but I think it’s simply this: as a people of faith, we are not called to be optimistic. The story doesn’t always end well. Nor are we called to be pessimistic, with a streak of martyrdom in the way we view the world. The story doesn’t always end poorly. Instead, we are called to be honest. And in this case, it means looking at this story and seeing that Naboth dies unjustly, that his family doesn’t get the land back, and that Ahab stays on top for a few more chapters. Elijah is the honest one in this story, delivering the message to Ahab that what he did was wrong; and yet, God is still at work anyway.

I think what Elijah brings to the story is hope. Faithful hope is realistic, I believe, seeing the world as it really is and being foolish enough to believe that there’s purpose anyway.

Where are you in the drama? What is it you need to hear? Do you need to be called to account for something that has weighed on you? If so, there is heartbreak in heaven for you. There is honest, realistic truth for you. And there is forgiveness for wrongs done.

Do you need to know that everything is going to be alright? Are you wounded? If so, then there is heartbreak in heaven with you. And there is hope, true hope, in trusting that purpose exists anyway.

What’s in a name? If we are the church, then we are Christ’s body. If we are the church, we open ourselves to the Spirit. If we are the church, we speak God’s truth in love.

Are we the church? I hope so. Amen.

Marthame Sanders (Marthame’s sermons and other reflections are also available on his blog)

Luke 17:11-17
I Kings 17:8-24

This morning we begin our series on the prophets. Even though we tend to think that prophets are people who can predict the future, that’s not so much the case. Instead, it is much more about seeing clearly, about being grounded in God, and about telling the truth, no matter what.

Prophets hit hard, especially when it comes to power. They’re often a little bit odd, and they’re always very human. I don’t think we’re called to be prophetic all the time, but I do believe that we’re all called to be prophetic some of the time. And that’s potentially tricky, especially because we can often see “truth” quite differently. Sometimes it seems only in hindsight that we can determine what is actually truthful. Nowadays, would anyone say that Jim Crow segregation or Apartheid South Africa were good ideas? But maybe it’s just that we really knew the truth at the time, but we just “couldn’t” say it (for whatever reason).

The world we live in is filled with untruth. Wall Street’s recent fiasco is perhaps the most obvious, and then there are those on Capitol Hill who are supposed to be investigating them. And when there are contentious issues, we often only get presented with false options and the choice of picking sides. “It’s either us, or them,” the ultimatum goes; “You’re either for us or against us,” we are threatened. Therefore, it is that much more important to take a look at the prophets and what they might teach us.

The texts this summer will come from the lectionary and will give us a chance to look at Elijah, Elisha, Amos, Hosea, and Isaiah, as we wrestle with what it means to be prophetic today.

Elijah is first up. After Moses, he’s the most important person in the Old Testament. His story even contains echoes of Moses’ story. He fights against polytheism; he flees into the desert; the details around the end of his life are mysterious; he even parts a body of water, the Jordan River. In1 and 2 Kings, he and Elisha only take up about ten percent of the chronological time, but they constitute a full quarter of the whole text. And oddly enough, we don’t know much about him at all, except that his name, Elijah, means “My God is Yahweh” – an indication of his prophetic zeal.

This week’s story is a little easier to digest than the ones that are coming, but they help ground us.

Elijah is in Gentile territory, in the area of Phoenicia – modern-day Lebanon. A famine has taken hold of the land, and as Elijah stands at the gates to the city of Zarepheth, he sees a widow – the most vulnerable segment of society. With a famine, she would have been hit harder than anyone, and we learn that she and her son have basically run out of food, so this is the end of the line. But Elijah promises her abundance if she will only feed him, even though she is a Phoenician. She does, and it comes true.

But then her son gets ill, and she begins to doubt the goodness of God. At first, Elijah plays it cool, but then he, too, begins to doubt what God is up to. But God intervenes, the child is healed, and the woman’s faith returned.

There are also parallels in the story from the gospel, too. Elijah, because of the odd details around his death, is understood as the precursor of the Messiah. He appears alongside Moses at the Transfiguration. Jesus references Elijah often (including this story). And in Luke, Jesus also brings a widow’s son back to life.

But what can all this teach us about the prophets?

First, there’s compassion. Elijah approaches this woman interested in his own well-being, yes, but also that of this widow and her child. And this compassion is of the fullest range possible. It includes those who are most vulnerable, and it includes those who are not even of the same nation (even though this nation is the nation of THE GOD!).

Second, prophets are human. Elijah’s vulnerability is what makes him so compelling. He doubts God’s provision when the child falls ill; he’s no perfect character by any stretch.

Third, they’re vessels of God’s power and channels of God’s message. In this story, it means specifically endless provision and the promise of resurrection and healing.

As we look at the rest of the summer and study what it means to be prophetic and speak truth to the world, let us begin with this simple story. It is a reminder that, above all else, it means to be rooted in God and in God’s compassion. It might bubble into righteous anger, but it begins with compassion.

It also means being human. None of us is above reproach or self-doubt. Instead, we are called to wrestle honestly with God.

And let us not overlook Elijah’s message either, because it is ultimately God’s message. Provision is sure. New life and healing are sure. We can never outrun God’s grace and mercy; we can never out-die God’s grace and mercy.

If we lean into God, we’ll soon realize that God has been leaning toward us all along. The widow in Nain didn’t seek Jesus to heal her son; he was just there. And the widow in Zarephath didn’t go to the gates to look for Elijah to save her; he was just there. God shows up before we even open the door. May we live as though that were true.

Amen.

John Gunter

Sixty eight years ago the Ballard Marine Railway Company of Seattle Washington laid down the wooden hull parts for the construction of a Mark 1 motor class minesweeper. The wood came from the pine timbers of Oregon.  She was given the name HMS J 826 and entered into  service of the royal Navy.  After the war in 1947 and time logged in as a ferry, the ship was decommissioned and given a new assignment as a research vessel. 

In 1950, Irish millionaire Loel Guinness bought the ship and for the grand total of one franc per year, leased her to a young and very serious French ocean researcher.  The vessel churned an impressive 12 mph and was given the new name of Calypso.  Her new Captain…none other than Jacques Yves Cousteau.  Had he lived another 13 years, next month would see his 100^th birthday. We can read how in the early years of the Calypso, Cousteau and his crew worked tirelessly to bring engaging awareness to the “otherworld” of our planet.  His team seemed to work in sync to the nano-second and  much of the oceanic society hung of his every word, documentary and film.  Cousteau was  one of my signs of hope, and as long as he and his crew were sailing, I believed our oceans would be safe. 

      I have the privilege of working with some of the most dedicated, hardworking, talented musicians I’ve ever known.  They are the OPC hand bell choir. We hear many compliments on the results of working together, and helping each other.

If there’s one thing to be learned from playing hand bells, it’s this, if you don’t work together you will crash and burn, and those on either side of me help me keep my part right more than they know.  They also are signs of hope.

      It was fitting that we celebrated Marthame’s 40^th birthday in a train museum, where you are taken back to a time when life moved at a slower pace; even though as trains developed more speed, some folks feared they would move so fast that time couldn’t keep up.  As big, old and expensive to operate the trains were, they all needed a connected human touch to make it happen.  And to get somewhere, it took time.

Time is a gift, waiting for you to take every precious second you need. Time is here to keep everything from happening all at once. So in the spirit of Calypso, find your cadence, adjust your rhythm, and remember to breathe.

Tiffany Kromer (Tiffany’s sermons and other reflections are on her blog)

Psalm 8
John 15:26-16:15

It is that time in our church year where we stop and reflect on one of the most important, yet mysterious and confusing doctrines of the Christian faith—the Trinity—the three in one, one in three. Now, there are many ways we could talk about the Trinity this morning. I could break out the many metaphors people use to explain the trinity—the water, ice and steam metaphor—different forms of the same substance, the egg metaphor—you can fry it, scramble it, or boil it—but it’s still an egg. Or I could even use the M&M metaphor. You can have three different colored M&M’s in the palm of your hand. But when you pop these M&M’s in your mouth and you chew, you know longer have three distinct M&M’s; all you have is one, yummy chocolate taste. No, I’m not going to explain the trinity in this way. First of all, this kind of explanation only addresses the question, “How can three be one and one be three?” And, even if you are able to answer that question, we are still stuck with the questions, “Why? Why is God three in one? Why do we say that our one God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?” Which leads me to the next reason why I don’t want to ise water or eggs or M&M’s to describe God this morning. These metaphors still leave God in the abstract. They make God seem like a mathematical equation. What does a mathematical equation have to do with our real lives? I’m still convinced that the doctrine of the trinity means something to us today and actually impacts how we look at God, the world, and our relationships. So, today I want to focus on the why question of the trinity. Why is our One God also three persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit? Just for fun, I came up with three metaphors for us to begin to explore this question of “Why” this morning. They most certainly are imperfect, so humor me:

I want you to think of the mystery meat we call “Spam”—God is a lot like “Spam”…in that there is a lot about God we don’t and never will know about. Our language, however sophisticated it is, will never be able to describe God completely. God is beyond us. That’s why the doctrine of the Trinity can be confusing. How can three be one and one be three? The God that created the universe and sent Jesus to bring the Word of God and continues to reveal truth to us today is the ONE God in three persons—Father, Son, Holy Spirit. God is mystery and that means that after that spam for dinner, we eat a heaping portion of humble pie. We are human beings. We are not God. Just as soon as we think we have God figured out, we realize we don’t. Just as soon as we make God into our own image, God surprises us with new experiences that force us to expand our thinking. We meet someone different than us, that forces us to think differently about God. Mystery is a part of our life experience and our experience with God. God is bigger than our black and white thinking, the kind of ideology that puffs us up and makes us think we have all the answers. God is in the midst of the grey areas of life, the parts we can’t figure out. This isn’t meant to be scary—it’s meant to bring us hope. The hope in mystery is that God isn’t defined by our limited thinking and limited ideals and limited goals. Praise be to God that my language, my thinking, my ideas about God do not describe all of God. Praise be to God for mystery.

Now I want you think about the Waffle House, our 24/7 connection to hashbrowns, bacon, eggs, and waffles. God is a lot like the Waffle House…in that God is always connected to us, even when we don’t know it, even when we don’t feel it. This is what Jesus explains to the disciples in our scripture this morning. Jesus is preparing his disciples for what it is to come—for the time when he will be gone, when his disciples will be left to live a life for God without Jesus himself to teach them what to do. Jesus tells them that their life will be hard and that there will be people who will hate them for what they believe and teach. There will be times when they are confused and scared and lonely, wondering what decision to make. Yet, Jesus tells them that they will never be alone. The spirit of truth will be with them to guide them. And this spirit of truth comes from the father to testify on Jesus’ behalf. All three are connected and do not work without one another. The trinity provide us with 24/7 access to God. At no time does God leave us alone. By God being Father, Son and Holy Spirit, God shows us that God is willing to give all of Godself to us and be with us no matter what, even when we who God created turn against God, even when we crucify God’s Son, even when we ignore the still small voice speaking to us—God is with us infinitely. That is what Jesus told his disciples before he left them, and that is what Jesus is telling us today as we go through life with its ups and downs. God is three in one because God is with us always.

The last metaphor I want us to think about this morning is the legendary Potluck dinner. Think about all the different kinds of food and desserts that are represented in a potluck dinner. It runs the gammot from Fried Chicken to sandwiches to spaghetti to salad to casseroles to cookies to lemon meringue pie. Yet, in the midst of this diversity of food, it becomes one meal that connects a diversity of people into one community.

God is a lot like a Potluck dinner…God is One because God is diverse. Sioux Indian and writer Richard Twiss has a fantastic video explaining the diversity in our One God. Richard Twiss explains that “Unity is impossible in the absence of diversity…You cannot have unity when there is no diversity otherwise all you have is uniformity, or conformity or sameness. God is none of those—God is not uniformity, God is not conformity and God is not sameness—but God is ONE.” Twiss goes on to use the example of the way in which different Christians worship. He says that it is “only in the many ways of worshiping and knowing and walking with God that we could even hope to have a glimpse of the indescribableness of God.” No one language or music can encompass all of God. It is when we encounter different ways of worshiping God that we get more of a glimpse into who God is.

I invite you to take a moment right now and look at the people gathered in our sanctuary today. Every person in this room is different. No two of you are alike. And to think—every person in this room is made in the IMAGE of God! When we encounter each other, we get a glimpse of God that no one else can give us. As I was preparing for this sermon, I found myself having to write in a public place with lots of different people all around me. So, I went to Starbucks and observed people. Some were conversing in a language I couldn’t understand. Others were whispering, deep in a serious conversation. Others were laughing. A woman talked on her cell phone, a child tugged on her mommy’s pant leg, a man ordered a caramel macchiato. The barista smiled at her customers and made them feel welcomed. Every single one of these beautiful people were different, yet gave me glimpses of our One God. We are a reflection of God and your neighbor is too, even the neighbor who gets on your nerves or has hurt you—they are made in God’s image too, and they reflect God. Thus, our God who is three in one and one in three connects us to our neighbors in a way nothing else can. The God who is diverse connects us to our diverse world and back to God again.

The trinity teaches us how to be a community. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit are different, but all three are fully God. These three do not have to conform to each other to be fully God. They are distinctly themselves but always connected, inseperable from one another. They are community. They are in relationship with each other, working together in a beautiful dance. And because we are made in God’s image, we are called to be connected to one another in relationship, in community with one another. We are all different—with different personalities and ideologies and beliefs and gifts and passions. We are not called to be the same as each other or to conform or to have one uniform belief. However, we are called to be ONE community, ONE body of Christ, that works together because we are different, because we respect and love and value each other’s differences. We learn to be a community because God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit—a divine, diverse community.

So whether you use Spam or M&M’s or Potluck Dinners to describe God, the most important thing about the Trinity is that it gives us a glimpse of our God that has a direct impact on how we live. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit humble us to stand in awe of the mystery of God. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are promises that God is always with us. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit in its diversity teach us how to be one, diverse, loving community. May it be so. AMEN

Marthame Sanders (Marthame’s sermons and other reflections are also available on his blog)

Acts 2:1-21
Romans 8:14-17

Since I’ve been your pastor, it has been my practice to offer a kind of “state of the church” reflection on Pentecost Sunday. This year, we’ve been having an extended remix of that through our small group dinners and our Town Hall Forum immediately following worship. And on this Pentecost day, when we celebrate the birth of the Church through the gift of the Spirit to those early disciples so long ago, it is an appropriate moment for us to take stock of where we are as a congregation that gathers in the name of Christ.

The church as it exists today looks so very different than it did back then. You had a handful of disciples, wrestling with what it meant to be followers of Christ after his death and resurrection, and after he had spent forty days ministering with them before his ascension into heaven. And there they are, once again, gathered in one room together in Jerusalem. It is almost as though they were still so afraid and unsettled by the events of the past few months that they weren’t willing to take it at face value. The fear that caused Peter to deny Christ and the disciples to hole up seems to have taken sway.

That is, until the Holy Spirit comes bursting in, a fierce wind seemingly forcing them out onto the street into the midst of the gathered Jerusalem festival crowd. The other details are familiar to us: the diversity of language made irrelevant as all can understand what is being said, the long-list of the many nations from which people had gathered in Jerusalem. And it is then that the disciples finally break out of their shells and begin to share the good news to which they have been heirs.

We’re not so different from those disciples, are we? Many of us tend to be risk-averse. We like to know what’s coming next, don’t particularly appreciate surprise. And even when we learn a lesson like, “Trust God,” we may have to re-learn and re-re-learn it again and again.

It reminds me of the story of the four guys arguing about who was the greatest baseball player of all time. Three of them were convinced it was Ty Cobb; but Bill was sure it was Hank Aaron. “Sorry, Bill, it’s 3-1. Ty Cobb it is.” Bill turned to divine intervention at that moment: “Oh God, give me a sign to prove to these guys that I’m right!” At that moment, a green cloud appeared above Bill’s head and seemed to do a little dance. “See, I told you!” The other three said, “Nah – green clouds happen all the time!” Bill, frustrated, screamed, “God, give me another sign!” At that, the cloud took the shape of the number 44. “Are you convinced?” he asked. “No,” they said. “Clouds are always taking different shapes.” So Bill called again, “God, please help me out with a sign!” At that moment, the sky split open, and a voice boomed, “You idiots, he’s right!” There was a pause. And then one of the guys said, “OK, it’s 3-2.”

We each have moments where we have been reminded that God is trustworthy. And yet, we continue to hole up in fear like the disciples refusing to accept that God might really be at work and convinced that it is all on our shoulders. And it is at moments like this that we do best open ourselves to the possibility that the Spirit might shove us out of our comfort zones and into places where the signs of God’s grace can be evident to us.

It is on days like today that we tend to return to the same texts again and again; on Pentecost, we open our Bibles to Acts 2 and focus on those early disciples. So today, perhaps it’s time to pay some attention to one of the more neglected little side texts; in particular, these verses from Romans.

In it, Paul is addressing a church he has never even met; unusual for Paul’s letters. And he is writing them hearing of their issues and their faith; most strikingly, this early in the church there is already division between Jewish and Gentile Christians. And Paul’s letter is an urging toward reconciliation. In short, Paul takes advantage of his apostolic authority to say that cultural differences are not enough to break apart the church; it is in the richness of different heritages that we can see God at work most fully. And in that, there are echoes of the swirl of languages that Pentecost day.

In the text from Paul today, he is focused on this notion of inheritance. Even though Paul is the one who most often uses this image of servant or slave to talk about our relationship with God, here he is taking it apart to say that it is more appropriate to consider ourselves sons and daughters of God. Think about how radical that is! Jesus is the son of God; as we say in the Apostles’ Creed, “I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only son…” Unlike the Apostles’ Creed, however, Paul is not making a doctrinal statement about Christ’s uniqueness and divinity. Instead, this is a rhetorical statement about our value in the kingdom of God and, indeed, our value within the community of faith.

For ancient Jewish and Gentile Christians, Paul has just forced them into one family, united by Christ, by divine adoption, as heirs of God’s kingdom alongside Jesus.

And just so we don’t think that this gives us the opportunity to “Lord” it over others, Paul clarifies just what it means to be heirs alongside Christ our brother: it means we suffer with Christ; and thus share in his glory.

“You almost had us, Paul,” I can hear the ancient church of Rome saying, and perhaps even us joining our voices with theirs. “We thought this whole inheritance thing was pretty cool, and we were willing to put aside our differences and say we’re one family, until you brought up this suffering thing. It’s a good thing we double-checked God’s will and testament. Suffering? Not so much…”

I hear you…The whole notion of having to take up our cross is a fearsome one. The thought that the faithful thing is to suffer and even be willing to risk our own lives for the sake of the gospel is one that sends most would-be and even self-described Christians packing for the doors. “That’s all fine and good for those who want to go be missionaries to cannibals, but not for me. I’ve got a job and a family to support, a mortgage, car payments, a retirement to enjoy or look forward to, exams coming up, summer break and college and graduation just around the corner! I’ll take the inheritance; the suffering, not so much…”

But I think this is exactly what binds Paul’s message to the church in Rome to the Spirit’s shove to the first disciples. It is an antidote to our fear – fear of those people who are
different from us, fear of the notion that we might suffer at the hands of the Romans, fear of a future that is ultimately unknowable to us. Risk is an inherent part of faith. And for those of us who are risk-averse, this hits us right between the eyes…

So let’s go back to our text from Romans. And let’s not get stuck on suffering. Paul’s keeps writing – to share in suffering is to share in glory. As Paul described baptism elsewhere, to be buried with Christ is to rise with him. To work alongside Christ our brother is to rely on God so fully that even when we’re not sure what might be next we can lean into that trust that God is at work, that the Spirit has bound us to one another and to God’s very self, leading us into a future that is ultimately, no matter how much we might like to think we’re in control, a future that is ultimately in God’s hands.

Over the next few months, as we move into the summer and begin planning for the Fall, we are in the midst of transition. We have talked in great detail about all of this in our small group dinners, and we will do so again at our Town Hall Forum immediately following worship. We may like to think that each of us knows what the future holds for OPC. The good news, my friends, is that God is trustworthy. OPC’s future is in God’s hands – not in the hands of our members, our community, our Session, our staff, our pastor. It is God who leads, it is Christ who encourages, and it is the Spirit who binds us together. And no matter what might come, trusting in our faithful adoption will lead us to inherit God’s glory.

Amen.