In case you weren’t here last week, the
sermon was really awesome. I share that in all humility.
Actually, our District Superintendent,
Dennis Miller gave me some really good advice before my first Sunday here. He
said, “You’re going to want to give them
your best stuff right away.” So that’s what you’re getting but I make no
promises by the time we get to August.
Seriously though, we preachers want to
make a good first impression in a new appointment. You have certainly made a good
first impression on Penny and me. Thank you for your kind words, your warm
welcome, and for making us feel right at home here in Athens. We really
appreciate it!
A couple of years ago, they changed the
date for a preacher’s first Sunday from the first Sunday in July to the last
Sunday in June. I guess they figured that a July 4th holiday weekend
isn’t the best Sunday to begin at your new church.
I think it’s kind of funny that the
lectionary includes this Gospel reading from Mark, chapter six. It’s the story
of when Jesus came to preach his first sermon in his home synagogue. Mark tells
us that they took offense at him.
One translation uses the word, “repulsed.”
When Dennis asked me how my first Sunday went with you, I’m glad that I didn’t
have to say that you were “repulsed.”
Mark goes on to tell us that after Jesus’
delivered his unwelcomed sermon, that he was unable to do any miracles there
except heal a few people here and there.
I know of a lot of pastors who would call that
a successful beginning to a new appointment, but for Jesus, it was just another
day at the office. If I healed a couple of people on my first Sunday with you,
that probably would have made the headlines in the Athens newspapers!
Now, of course the reason the people
didn’t respond to Jesus was because this was his hometown. They couldn’t
imagine that someone from their hometown had the right to speak with such
conviction. What’s that quote? “Familiarity breeds contempt.”
Jesus’ sermon wasn’t the typical nice
message of doing good and saying your prayers at night. Jesus’ sermon was
announcing the surprising news that God’s kingdom was finally at hand and it
was now time for people to get on board. The people just weren’t ready for this
kind of message even if it was good news.
In hindsight, maybe Jesus should have
waited to preach this type of explosive sermon for a later date. Maybe if he
would have eased into this talk about God’s kingdom breaking into our lives,
that he would have received a more positive reaction from his home town.
I think Jesus knew exactly what he was
doing. I think that Jesus knew that the time was right, regardless of how the
people might respond.
Mark is clear to point out that the reason
the people didn’t welcome Jesus’ message was because they didn’t expect to hear
such good news from one of their own. When they thought about God’s kingdom
breaking into their lives, their hometown of Nazareth was the last place they
thought something like this would happen.
Mark is trying to help us see that it can
be easy for us to miss out on the signs of God’s kingdom that are happening all
around us. I find this to be true in my own life. Even though I know that God
is at work through the ordinary routine of my day to day living, I can easily
miss out on signs of God’s presence that are all around me.
Celtic Christianity has a wonderful name
for these times when God’s inbreaking kingdom is being made visible in the here
and now. They have called these holy moments, “Thin Places.” “This places”
They are “thin places” because there is
often just a razor thin separation between heaven and earth in any given moment.
A lot of people believe that heaven is way out there somewhere, a long way from
our time and space of everyday living.
Jesus’ message of God’s kingdom and his
miracles of healing people help to remind us that heaven and earth are a lot
closer than we can imagine. Here are some examples of some thin places I have
experienced in my own life.
Last Sunday, I mentioned that I responded
to a calling to become a pastor through a college ministry at Temple University
in Philadelphia. During that time, I had gone on a weekend retreat for a time
of spiritual renewal.
The retreat leader asked each of us to take
our bible, find a secluded place, and listen for God’s voice. And so, I
remember taking my bible and sitting down by a tree.
I flipped open my bible and it opened to
the first page of the Book of Jeremiah in the Old Testament. As I read about
how the Lord called Jeremiah to become a prophet, it sounded a lot like my
story.
After the Lord tells Jeremiah that he
wants him to be a prophet, Jeremiah comes up with the excuse that he was only a
youth and wouldn’t know what to tell the people.
The Lord responds by telling Jeremiah, “Don’t say that you’re just a youth, for you
shall go to I to whom I send. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be with you.” A few
verses later, it says that the Lord touched Jeremiah’s mouth and said, “Now, I have put my words in your mouth.”
That
moment became a “thin place” for me because those were just the words and the
reassurance that I needed to hear in that moment. I could have opened my bible
to who knows where, like a passage that lists genealogies and all of those
begats, but it happened to open to that particular page.
That holy moment led me to finally say,
“yes” to God, because I knew that God would be with me and would give me the
words to speak.
Here’s another “thin place” holy moment
that comes to mind.
My mother passed away back in June of 2012.
Several months before she passed away,
my brother, sisters, and I decided that it was time for our mom to move from
her farmhouse where she has lived all her life.
All four of us were raised there and we
all have strong emotional ties to the house and the farm. But we knew that it
was time for our mom to move to a place where she would get much better care.
We had a big task in front of us. The four of us met at the farmhouse in
November of that previous year to prepare mom’s belongings for an estate sale.
Because of all the memories in the home we
grew up in, the four of us had an agreement that we wouldn’t spend a whole lot
of time reminiscing since we only had a week to get things ready for the
sale. For the most part, we kept to our
agreement.
In the attic were several large pieces of
furniture, boxes and loose items that needed to be carried down two flights of
stairs, and then sorted, and tagged. The
cellar which had experienced flooding from a lot of rain that year needed to be
emptied and aired out. The farm
buildings needed to be cleaned and organized.
Things that we didn’t want to keep or
think would sell, needed to be thrown into a large dumpster that we had
rented. At the end of each day, I
noticed that all four of us were limping from all of the carrying, lifting, and
cleaning we had been doing non-stop. We
were quite a sorry sight to see.
Toward the end of the afternoon of the
last day that I was in for the trip, we had finished all our work. My one sister and I were standing in front of
the barn when my brother and my other sister drove up in dad’s old pick-up
truck.
My brother said, “Let’s make one final trip out to the pines.” The pines referred to a place on our farm
where our dad would go to chop down a Christmas tree each year. Dad had died in 1989 and so his memory was
constantly with us throughout that week.
The pines was that place that served as a
pet cemetery for our several dogs over the years. The pines was that place where we would go as
kids just to be quiet and be out in nature.
We drove back to the pines on the same
path that our dad would often take on his tractor, a path that was between two
cornfields along the sloping farmland of south central Pennsylvania.
When we made it out to the pines, we got
out of the pick-up truck. The sun was
just beginning to set, providing a glow over the recently picked golden
cornfields. It was an unusually warm and
calm November day.
We remarked on how beautiful it was to be
back at the pines. I took a short walk
through the woods where dad and I had hunted many years; so many memories of
that beautiful farm.
We felt like kids again as we remembered
stories from our childhood. A large
graceful deer interrupted our conversation as it came out of the woods and
darted through the cornfield toward the pines, as if on cue.
And then we were silent, not saying a
word, as we savored that holy moment. I
thought about dad and how much I missed him.
And then I thought about mom and how she would soon be leaving the home
where she had lived all her life.
Just at the right time, as my heart was
feeling the ache of the pain of transition, one of us offered to say a
prayer. And the four of us, joined hands
and made a little prayer circle.
We thanked God for giving us parents who
loved each of us and passed the faith on to us.
We thanked God for giving us the farm as a great place to be raised and
that we had these beautiful shared memories that would stay with us forever.
That holy moment of prayer became one of
those thin places for us in a surprising and mysterious way. Heaven and earth
are not that far apart in any given moment.
Let me offer one more “thin place” moment.
A
couple of years ago, I attended a funeral service that was held during a late
afternoon at the church I was serving. The sanctuary was filled and I was
seated in one of the back pews.
During the service, the song, “Out of the
Dark” by Gloria Estefan was played. It had been cloudy for most of the day and
just before this song was played, the sun began to shine brightly through the
beautiful stained glass windows of that sanctuary.
As I listened to this beautiful song and
saw heaven’s rays just streaming through those windows, I felt God’s presence
even in the midst of our deep sadness and grief. The words of that song seemed
to be speaking to each person in that Sanctuary.
Why
be afraid if I’m not alone
Though life is never easy
the rest is unknown
Up to now for me it’s been hands against
stone
Spent each and every moment
Searching for what to
believe
Coming out of the dark, I
finally see the light now
It’s shining on me
Coming out of the dark, I
know the love that saved me
You’re sharing with me.
I didn’t expect God to use a pop song from
the early 90s and the perfect timing of the clouds giving way to the sun, to
ease our grief, but that’s exactly what happened. God is present with us
throughout the ordinary events of our day.
Now, I know that it’s possible to take
things a little too far like seeing the outline of Jesus’ face in the swirl of
your guacamole dip.
I recently read about a woman named Kelly
Ramey in Missouri who says that she found Jesus in a bag of Cheetos. When she
opened a bag of Cheetos, she noticed a mini orange sculpture that resembled
Jesus. She has even given it a name. She calls it… “Cheesus” not with the
letter “J” but with the letters, “CH.” “Cheesus.”
But who am I to judge? I would rather us err
on the side of seeing “Cheesus” than on the side of not seeing “Cheesus.” If we
believe that God is present everywhere than why wouldn’t we have more of these
God sightings throughout our day to day living, even while eating snacks.
These thin places often catch us off
guard. They sneak up on us. And sometimes, we don’t even recognize them until
after they happened.
Do you know what excites me the most about
being your pastor? I CAN’T WAIT
for the many ways that we will experience God’s “thin places” together. I can’t
wait to celebrate those holy moments of God’s presence that are all around us
in any given moment.
It’s interesting to me that immediately
after Jesus got a cold response from his hometown, that he didn’t give up. He
paired up his disciples and sent them into the surrounding villages to actually
live out the sermon he just gave. They went out and announced the good news
that God’s kingdom was at hand.
God is calling us to be on the look out
for these holy moments and to share them with each other and with those around
us. This is what it means for us to live out our faith.
Jesus’ first sermon in his hometown might
not have gone over very well, but his message of the good news of God’s
inbreaking kingdom didn’t stop there.
Where do you see God’s presence at work in
your life? What are those “thin places” where heaven and earth have come
together in a mysterious and holy way for you?
They will sneak up on us in many different
ways;
When you flip through your bible, when
you’re by an empty cornfield, when the sun all of the sudden shines brightly
through some church windows, and especially when we come forward to receive the
Sacrament of Holy Communion and we hear the words, “This is the body of Christ broken for you. This is the blood of Christ
shed for you.”
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