Heritage Presbyterian Church

Love Grows Here

Sunday’s Sermon – On Trial – Isaiah 1:1, 10-20

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“May it please the court.” Though not in every case, these words often begin courtroom proceedings. Throughout high school and college, they were part of a standard for the mock trial teams I was on as we addressed the fictitious courtroom in competitions. They established a rhythm and guided us into the argument. This morning, as we approach our text from Isaiah, it’s appropriate to parallel it with the patterns of our legal justice system, for the verses we find in this chapter are just that: a courtroom scene.

Isaiah 1:1 is essentially the “May it please the court.” It is the introduction that locates this prophet within a certain place and time. Namely, that this is a vision given to a particular person from Judah, the southern kingdom of God’s people, during the reign of particular kings, making the historical timeline around the 8th century B.C.E. From this we know a bit more about how to locate this text among the first hearers of its message:

The Assyrian campaign of 701 BCE has left Judah devastated. The nation is sick. From head to toe, the body does not have a single healthy, sound spot. . . Only Jerusalem is left, and that city’s condition is tenuous[i].

To these people of God comes Isaiah, whose name is a combination of the root words in Hebrew for God and salvation, and can roughly be translated to mean “God has saved” or “God will save.” From the start, we get a sense that his prophecy will include a recurring theme of God’s saving sovereignty over history and all the nations. And indeed it does. These parallels are why it is such a meaningful book in the Hebrew scriptures for us as Christians who believe that Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of the prophecies for the coming of the Messiah. What might seem just a cursory introduction verse for us actually tells us quite a bit about what we will hear next. The verses that follow are like the prosecutor’s opening statement, telling us what to look for in the evidence that will be presented. They illustrate the prophet’s passion for God’s message of salvation as well as God’s concern for justice, laying the groundwork for the beautiful and challenging poetry that will come.

With the stage set, the prophet launches into the brutal honesty of the facts. Verses 2-9, which are skipped in the lectionary, present some harsh evidence about what my study bible labels “the wickedness of Judah.” The charges are read, if you will. A courtroom parallel might be that these are pre-trial stipulations. That is, that both sides have agreed that a certain set of statements are true. In the case of God vs. the people of Judah, the picture looks pretty bleak from the start.

Verses 10-20 unleash God’s response. To get a sense of what he’s saying, hear again part of this passage as it’s relayed in Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase:

Quit your worship charades.
 I can’t stand your trivial religious games:
Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings—
 meetings, meetings, meetings—I can’t stand one more!
Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them!
 You’ve worn me out!
I’m sick of your religion, religion, religion,
 while you go right on sinning.
When you put on your next prayer-performance,
    I’ll be looking the other way.
No matter how long or loud or often you pray,
    I’ll not be listening

And do you know why? Because you’ve been tearing
    people to pieces, and your hands are bloody [ii].

Yikes. This is a tough message to swallow. This, in some ways, is the point. Isaiah presents a powerful and scathing message, meant to jar listeners to change their behaviors. And for those of us sitting in the sanctuary for worship this week, with no less than THREE committee meetings on our calendar of events, we might be shifting in our seats in a bit of uneasiness or even outright shock, wondering if we have parallels with the 8th century BCE after all. Those places of uneasiness, I think, are the Spirit that encourages us to examine and critique our own lives, so that we might grow to be more faithful.

As we consider this text in relation to our lives today, though, we might get hung up on one of the things that Isaiah identifies as being particularly problematic – the unworthy sacrifices being offered that God rejects. As Christians, we tend to not have a good understanding of their role in ancient Jewish practice, so Anna Case-Winters offers us a quick summary to catch up. She notes that:

There are different kinds of offerings. Some are understood purely as gifts to God. Peace offerings are meant to signal a reconciled relation with God. Other offerings are intended as expiation for breaches of ritual committed in ignorance. Forgiveness of other kinds of wrongs or wrongs done knowingly is never related to sacrifice, but is dependent upon repentance and confession. There is no understanding of divine forgiveness being “purchased” by sacrifice (propitiation)[iii].

In other words, the sacrifices and offerings that the people were making comprised a majority of the same components that we address with our acts of worship: our offering of praise and thanksgiving through hymns and affirmations of faith; our reflections on the Scripture, and yes, the admission of our shortfalls with confession. The issue here is not that the people of God have missed something they were supposed to be doing in order to receive God’s favor. God doesn’t work on a system of quid pro quo. Forgiveness is always the gracious act of God, even in the Hebrew scriptures.  However, it seems that God’s people have tried to make it this way.

The priests in Jerusalem had been highly successful in increasing religious display. They apparently taught the people that the more sacrifices they made, the greater the chance that their desires would be grated. The fatter the animal, the better the reward[iv].

The people of Judah have been attempting to manipulate God’s goodness and favor with sacrificial offerings, as if God could be bought or bribed. And when this becomes what happens, the sacrifices become less about God, and more about the self-centered people who offer them.

We hear similar messages in Psalm 50, and also in Amos, Hosea, and Micah. All push against the offering of sacrifices or other worship rituals done for show or simply done out of obligation. They insist that they are idle exercises unless true change happens within. Put quite simply, the prophetic witness tells God’s people, over and over again, that our faith is not just about going through the motions and doing all the right steps or saying the right things. It has to be about something more.

Isaiah is calling out the people of Judah’s hypocrisy. What he has observed is that even those claiming to be the most pious have gotten caught up in the pageantry and display of worship, or of going through the motions, and have lost sight of the relationship that their worship has to their lives and their hearts. What really is “on trial” here, then, is not so much the methodologies of sacrifice and worship practices, but the hearts of the worshipers themselves. Isaiah is not suggesting that we not worship. But rather, that we pay better attention to our lives outside of the sanctuary; because what happens in the world shouldn’t be separate from what happens in our worship. That separation is what is so offensive to the prophet and to God.

We can’t simply go through the motions and assume that everything will be magically right with the world. Our worship, in order to be pleasing to God, must be linked with the lives we live. When it isn’t, our faith is emptyhanded. In the wake of yet another round of mass shootings, there has been sharp critique for those who offer “thoughts and prayers” to those experiencing tragedy in El Paso and Dayton. Every time I hear someone blow off genuine expressions of sympathy I get pretty cranky. After all, as a Christian, I believe we are indeed called to pray for those who are struggling. Last week, I heartbreakingly read the names of countless cities who had been impacted by gun violence with multiple victims; a staggering list in just one week’s time, with 2 major stories in the 24 hours preceding our worship. In times of tragedy and fear and terrorism, sometimes the only thing we can think to do is pray. And that is a good and faithful response. But the thing is; prayer can’t just be the only thing we do. If we truly take Isaiah’s words to heart, we must consider that our prayers beckon us into real, tangible action in the world. Otherwise, they are offered up almost in vain and leave us emptyhanded with a hollow faith.

This text convicts the parts of us that try to separate our lives to the point that we end up with “Sunday morning selves” and “rest of the week selves.” Not good enough, says the prophet. If we want to truly worship and offer ourselves to God, we have to do the work outside of these walls, too. This is the work of the people of God. In our communion prayers we ask that we be living and holy sacrifices. That means we are committed to being a part of God’s work in the world, not just thinking or praying about God doing it. Fortunately, Isaiah gives a pretty good listing of ways in which we can marry the two. As The Message puts it:

Say no to wrong.
    Learn to do good.
Work for justice.
    Help the down-and-out.
Stand up for the homeless.
    Go to bat for the defenseless[v]

It is when we do these things that we live into the covenant God created with us.

When it comes to a trial, the general advice is that the attorney should always end by asking the judge or jury for the verdict they desire, so that is the final thought. In Isaiah 1, God’s final word is not one of condemnation, but one of grace.  “Come, let us argue it out,” God says, inviting us into reconciling conversation. The verb in this verse even:

comes from the language of the law court, and it refers to the kind of discourse that results in the disclosure of the truth[vi].

But rather than a dramatic trial in which God takes all of our offerings and shows how flimsy they really are, God offers words of promise and reconciliation. Nothing is beyond God’s redemption. In fact, God can and will transform everything into its pure state. Here, God shifts from prosecutor into arbiter, offering a path to forgiveness. God offers grace. It is not a cheap grace, but grace offered in the midst of our mess, from one who longs for us to be rehabilitated and restored once again.

This passage puts our lives, even and especially our spiritual lives “on trial” from start to finish. Isaiah deftly navigates the complexities of the lives of the people of Judah, and us today, with a beautiful poetry that weaves together a tight and concise case. The evidence is overwhelming; the offenses made clear. His words should prompt, then, a sharp examination of ourselves up against the vision God has for us as God’s own people, during which we likely discover the many ways in which we fall short and screw things up.  But then comes the final offer of proof and request not for a punishment, but for reconciliation and the opportunity to turn things around. God is not finished with God’s people yet. Would we dare to accept this as the verdict?

That is the question left to the people of Judah, and to us today. Knowing of God’s displeasure with some of our choices and simultaneous desire to be in relationship with us to right these wrongs into a new way of living, how will we respond?

~Sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, August 11, 2019

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[i] Gary W. Light, Isaiah, Interpretation Bible Studies, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001).
[ii] Eugene Peterson, The Message.
[iii] Anna Case-Winters, “Theological Perspective: Isaiah 1:1, 10-20,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010)
[iv] Gary W. Light, Isaiah, Interpretation Bible Studies, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001).
[v] Eugene Peterson, The Message.
[vi] Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, J. Clinton McCann, James D. Newsome, “Proper 14” Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary based on the NRSV – Year C, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994)

Sunday’s Sermon – Picky Eaters – John 6

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This July, our summer sermon series pairs Scripture texts with well-known and loved books by Dr. Seuss as modern parables to deepen our exploration of faith in the world together. This week our Dr. Seuss classic is Green Eggs and Ham.

How many of you consider yourselves “picky eaters?” I asked this question on my Facebook page earlier this week, asking for rankings on a scale of 1-10. A few placed themselves midway, weighing various dietary choices and decreeing certain foods as anathema, from peanut butter to green peas, while others admitted to all out pickiness at the top of the scale. But the majority of my friends seem to rate themselves a 1 or 2 on a scale of 1-10, many claiming they “eat anything.”

I wonder how the disciples would have answered, particularly after hearing Jesus’ lengthy description in John 6. These almost 40 verses, some of which we read this morning, are known as the “Bread of Life Discourse.” They come in the gospel text following familiar stories like the feeding of the 5,000, and Jesus walking on water. Now, Jesus settles in the synagogue in Capernaum and tries to explain to those who have gathered what is going on.

“I am the bread of life.” It is one of seven “I am” sayings in John’s gospel that unveil who Jesus is. They echo God’s voice from the burning bush in Exodus, revealing the presence of the divine. Throughout the gospel, Jesus himself lays out that God’s ancient promises are being fulfilled, noting that the ability for all to come to him depends only upon hearing and learning[i].  The people have been following with many questions, eager for additional proofs so that they might believe. Here, Jesus provides with, as David Hull describes it, a symbol that would have had rich meaning and immediate understanding to his audience. He notes:

Today we use utensils to move the food from a plate into our mouths. Bread is often served at meals, but it is seen as a “starter” or a “side.” Many who are watching their diets choose to forgo the bread. Therefore, when we hear that Jesus is “the bread of life,” we can too easily think in terms of a metaphor for something that is as optional as a dinner roll. . . The way that Jesus and his contemporaries ate was radically different from the way most Westerners eat. No utensils were used. A person ate with his food or her hands. Bread was usually used to dip into the food and bring the food from the dish to the mouth.  . . The Western mind-set allows us to think of bread as an extra that we can take or leave; but Jesus was operating with an image that was essential to the process of eating.  . . . Bread, then, was not an extra to be chosen or omitted; it was how persons accessed the food that was placed before them. According to John’s Gospel, then, the incarnation is the means by which we can access and partake of the life that God offers us. . . . Life is the main course. The “bread” is how we are able to receive the main course[ii].

In this passage, Jesus connects all of the dots, and lays it on a platter, if you will, almost literally for those who would listen, and invites them to join the feast. His words are graphic and visceral, carrying weight and impact that would have made those listening take notice. The fullness of God presented in dramatic fashion, ready for the taking.

But did you catch the response of those who heard it? Of the religious leaders and even his own disciples who had been following him? They are full of doubts and speculations, and scrutiny. It must have looked like trying to get a baby to eat green beans. In a study just over 10 years ago by researchers Forestell and Mennella, they introduced pureed green beans to a group of infants for the first time. Their reactions were as you might expect:

95% of the babies squinted

82% waggled their brows

76% raised their upper lips

42% wrinkled their noses

In short, babies looked disgusted, and the more disgusted they looked, the more slowly they ate[iii]!

Here Jesus is in John 6, spoon-feeding the very words of life to all who will hear, offering them that which will sustain, and they are turning up their noses at it.

As 21st Century Christians, we like to imagine that we would have seen Jesus and immediately known that he was the Messiah. We call ourselves disciples, indicating that he is the one we would have chosen to follow. We have the great benefit of knowing more of the story, and with 20/20 hindsight we can easily claim we would have been believers. If Jesus had shown up and said “I am the bread of life” in front of us, we would have gobbled it up, right? Maybe, or maybe not. Those who followed Jesus, even those closest to him, pushed back in this passage as they tried to make sense of it. You see, what we often forget is that Jesus was so provocative and innovative that he often stunned those gathered crowds. He left them scratching their heads, trying to figure out what it all meant. Jesus was in the business of change, and that wasn’t always readily accepted. He might as well have been offering them, well, Green Eggs and Ham.

In this classic by Dr. Seuss, the unnamed resistor is adamant about not trying what is offered to him from the enthusiastic Sam-I-Am. And so, Sam gets creative, offering different ways of hearing it and experiencing it in hopes of enticing him to take a bite. But each time, the creature resists. He doesn’t even list excuses or reasons. He simply repeats his dislike for green eggs and ham under any circumstances. He is, for the majority of the book, unable to even entertain the possibility of such a new dish that is unlike anything he knows or likes.

If we’re really honest, rather than jump in with two feet at what Christ himself would call us to do, we are a bit more like that character in the book. Writer James Kemp offers:

So many times in life we, like Sam’s friend, initially resist something that ultimately we might like, or something that ultimately we need whether we like it or not. We are hesitant to try new things, resistant to hearing new ideas or perspectives, especially when those new perspectives make us uncomfortable . . . It’s far easier to insist that we don’t like green eggs and ham than it is to try on a new way of looking at things, especially if the new message might reflect negatively on what we’ve been doing up to now[iv].

And so we resist change. We resist things that put us outside of our comfort zones. We tear things apart and seek to discredit rather than open ourselves to the possibility of learning something new.

Anne Lamott wrote that “the opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty[v]”. Sam’s friend was sure that he knew he would not like Green Eggs and Ham, even though he had never tried them. His certainty blocked his ability to have faith in what Sam might have been offering him. Have you ever resisted something simply on principle? Simply because it was new? Could you imagine what that might be like in your faith life?

Today, I’d invite you to consider what spiritual foods Jesus might be offering you that you have either flat our refused, or have been pushing around your plate for some time. Maybe it’s a spiritual practice, or way of prayer. Perhaps it’s some nudging that you keep getting a sense you’re supposed to do as a way to live out God’s love in this world, but just haven’t been able to get the fork to your mouth, so to speak. Or maybe it’s something you just can’t imagine working for you at all. Would you like it here or there? Could you, would you? What would it mean for you to test out those waters and stretch yourself in faith.

A word of caution here: I’m not suggesting that anything goes, or that you’ll like everything. I’ve heard of homes where people take “no thank-you bites”; in my house you take the number of bites equal to your age before you see if you do or don’t like something. But here’s the thing – you don’t know until you try. And sometimes, especially if you know that it’s something that is good and healthy for you, it’s worth the discipline of trying.

Remember those babies who were given green beans? They survived. In fact, after gentle introduction and offering those green beans to the babies eight to ten days in a row, it appeared they got over their initial dislike of the vegetables. It just took time. Just over a week later, those babies were eating three times as much pureed green beans as they did on their first experience[vi]. Other studies have had similar findings, prompting the advice for parents to *gently* introduce new foods multiple times, a dozen or more even, rather than give up on a particular food after one refusal. Persistence, it seems, pays off a bit.

Maybe this is why Jesus spent almost 40 verses repeating himself about being the way in which God was revealed to the world. Maybe this is why he continued to teach using parables and sit with people in the synagogue and heal and perform miracles. He used every way possible to get the disciples and others who had gathered to understand what was going on and what God was about. And maybe of the best truths about the good news of Christ’s resurrection is that God isn’t done with the world yet. Jesus continues to move among us, surprising us and demonstrating God’s power in this world. Course after course, God delivers us the bread of life. Over and over it is offered to us, the feast of grace and wholeness, the transforming possibility of new life. We get a taste of it every time we gather together as God’s people; every time we come forward to this table.

This meal, known as Communion, or the Lord’s Supper, is also called the Eucharist, which simply means “thanksgiving.” It is our moment, as those who have experienced the gospel of the gospel, to come together and say, as the character does at the end of the book, “Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am!” It is a meal of grace, where we offer our praise to God. It is also a time when we get another taste of the good news God has to offer.

Through Jesus Christ, the feast has been prepared, and we are all invited. So may we not be so quick to protest; instead, may we dare to come and eat, to taste and see that the Lord our God is good. Amen.

~sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, July 7, 2019

 

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[i] Richard Manly Adams, Jr, “Exegetical Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[ii] David W. Hull, “Homiletical Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[iii] https://www.parentingscience.com/how-to-start-babies-on-solid-food.html; https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/18055673

[iv] James W. Kemp, The Gospel According to Dr. Seuss, (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 2004)

[v] Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, (New York: Riverhead Trade, 2006), 256-57., as quoted by Margrey R. Devega, “Pastoral Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[vi] https://www.parentingscience.com/how-to-start-babies-on-solid-food.html; https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/18055673

Sunday’s Sermon – Grace, Gratitude, and Good Works – 1 Chronicles 17:16-27

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How would you define “grace”? It’s a theological word we throw around often, particularly in our Reformed Presbyterian tradition. It’s used repeatedly in our scriptures. You hear it in both my opening words and closing benediction each week, in keeping with the traditional greetings and closings used by the Apostle Paul. Professor and theologian Rolf A. Jacobson offers this definition:

The free gift in which God gives everything—eternal life, forgiveness, purpose, meaning—    to human beings, who respond by trying to earn it[i].

Grace is central to our understanding of salvation and who God is in relation to the world. It reminds us that we have a God who is merciful and slow to anger, who offers compassion and forgiveness instead of condemnation. Grace comes alongside love and is the means through which God accomplishes all things.

Throughout his letters to the early church Paul hones in on the importance of grace. Some of my favorite passages include those in Romans and the verses in Ephesians which we read a few moments ago. In Ephesians, Paul wishes to make it clear to the people that grace is a gift that brings us salvation. Our unity with God in Jesus Christ is not because of anything we have or have not done, our pedigree or geneology, or any particular turn of luck or accomplished skill. It is, as the reformers said, solo gratia, only grace that grants us this eternal status. Friends, this is good news. Because, as Paul also said in another letter, all of us have sinned and fall short of the grace of God. So, if you remember nothing else about grace, remember that it is a gift. It is not up to us to earn it; all we can do is respond to it.

These are the roots of the story John Newton, the author of the hymn Amazing Grace, who experienced grace in a dramatic way during a particularly stormy voyage in March of 1748. One night, a storm overtook the ship without any time to prepare, and Newton began to cry to the Lord.  The next day, in great peril, he cried to the Lord. He later wrote, “That tenth of March is a day much remembered by me; and I have never suffered it to pass unnoticed since the year 1748 – the Lord came from on high and delivered me out of deep waters[ii].” Newton was the captain of a slave-trading ship, and for the next several years he continued, trying to justify his work by seeking to improve conditions as much as possible, even holding public worship services for his hardened crew of thirty each Sunday.

You may have noticed in the stories of hymn backgrounds this summer that many of the authors experienced some sort of conversions, or had nefarious pasts. In this way, they are in good company with many of our biblical heroes, whose stories often reveal less desirable aspects of their lives. I think these stories remind us of God’s incredible ability to do amazing things with even imperfect people. And perhaps, it’s these imperfect people, so aware of their shortcomings, who are able to be more fully aware of God’s grace and its role in their lives. One biblical example of this is King David, who moves in the biblical story from shepherd boy to king with a lot of questionable choices along the way. But rather than focus on this past history, 1 Chronicles tells the life of David through an encouraging lens, leaving out the stories of his personal sin and failure and life before he became king, and instead focusing on the accomplishments he left behind for future generations, including his central focus on worship.

First Chronicles was written for Israelites living centuries after David . . . to help them get in touch with what Israel had once been and could become again[iii].

In short, Chronicles was written to help orient God’s people to respond to God’s grace and mercy, using David’s awareness of it as inspiration. Our text from today comes following David’s interactions with the prophet Nathan, who has guided him in understanding what God would have him do next. David had offered to build a temple for God, but Nathan delivers the message that God has something else in mind. David responds with this earnest and heartfelt prayer that model him as a humble ruler even in his success. He accepts the news from Nathan with meekness and thanksgiving. Rather than boast in God’s grace, David chooses to be grateful.

For both King David and John Newton, responding to God’s grace is about gratitude. It is an awareness of all that God has done, is doing, and will do, and an earnest desire to set their own interests aside in following God. Both men offer powerful prayers of thanksgiving, and because of God’s grace are able to find a new way in which to live in gratitude. Grace prompts us to say “thanks” to God. Each week in worship we confess our sins, and are reminded of this grace, and we respond with a song of thanksgiving to God – giving to God all the glory of this moment.

Grace also prepares us for discipleship. As our text from Ephesians reminds us, we are what God has made us, and God indeed has made us for a purpose – for good works. When we are aware of God’s grace, and lead lives marked by gratitude, we naturally will extend that grace and love to others with our actions. This is the intersection of good works and grace. Good works are not the way to grace, but the natural response to lives aware of its presence.

For John Newton, it changed his entire life path. Despite his efforts to improve his slave-trading ships, after several years he felt convicted of the inhuman aspects of this work and left the seas for dry land. At age 39, he was ordained by the Anglican Church and began his first pastorate in the little village of Olney, near Cambridge, England. During this time, he grew tired of the same old rote hymns provided in the Psalter, and sought to write new hymns that provided straightforward messages about scripture in ways that people could connect to, and so he began to write his own. That’s right, John Newton was responsible for many newfangled hymns. He collaborated with his friend and neighbor, William Cowper, and together they published a collection of 349 hymns in the Olney Hymns hymnal in 1779, with 282 of them by Newton[iv].

Among those were six stanzas of a hymn titled “Faith’s Review and Expectation,” based on Newton’s study of 1 Chronicles 17. It is the hymn later set to an early American folk melody which we know by its opening stanza, Amazing Grace.

John Newton’s contribution to faith communities in Olney and these hymns are certainly an impressive example of the impact that a recognition of God’s grace can have on one man. But the more compelling part of the story for me is what happened next in Newton’s ministry. Because leading lives in response to God’s grace is about much more than becoming a minister and writing good hymns. In the case of John Newton, grace led him to take a stand for something far more important. It is captured on his tombstone, which he himself wrote:

“John Newton, clerk, once an infidel and Libertine, a servant of slavers in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the Faith he had long labored to destroy.”

After serving fifteen years in Olney, Newton became pastor of the influential St. Mary Woolnoth Church in London. During this period, he mentored several influential leaders and clergymen. Most notably, he established a strong relationship with William Wilberforce and other political leaders engaged in the crusade for the abolition of the slave trade. His experience as the captain of a slave-trading ship haunted him, but he also felt compelled by his experience of God’s grace to make changes for the good of the world. It is worth noting that the year of John Newton’s death, 1807, also marked the year the British Parliament finally abolished slavery through all its domain.

In 2006, the story of William Wilberforce’s crusade against the slave trade in the British Parliament was captured in a movie titled Amazing Grace. It is a compelling story about the struggles of leaders in the midst of tremendous changes, and it features several scenes in which Wilberforce engages with his mentor clergyman, John Newton. In one memorable scene, Newton notes the line from the hymn “was blind but now I see,” and notes the irony of how he, almost blind and late in life, had finally seen what was good and right all along, after years of being blind to the sins of which he was a part. Then Newton adds: “Although my memory’s fading, I remember two things very clearly. I’m a great sinner and Christ is a great Savior.” The driving force for him continued to be his faith and understanding of grace, and his willingness to do something with it.

The film also depicts William Wilberforce struggling with whether he should enter the ministry (like Newton) or go into politics. He makes a display in a card game after another player wagered a slave, returning to sing the first verse of Newton’s hymn. Later his friend, William Pitt urges him to make a decision, and asks him “do you intend to use your beautiful voice to praise the Lord – or to change the world?”

While I understand the set-up in the film, I don’t think such an answer is either/or. In fact, a life marked by grace demands that we do both – praise the Lord (show our gratitude) AND seek to change the world, joining in the work of God’s kingdom that we were created for through Jesus Christ. Grace can and should prompt us to good works, to actions that make a difference in the world – not for our own gain, but for God’s.  In this way we become extensions of God’s gift of grace to others. This is the work of discipleship: becoming aware of God’s grace, giving thanks for it, and doing something because of it.

That is the work that our denomination’s General Assembly undertook this week, which you will hear about in more detail in just a few moments, and it is a challenge to all of us sitting here in the pews. Each week, we come together to celebrate God’s grace – through word, sacrament, prayers, and song. But it has to lead us somewhere, too. The book of James reminds us that “faith without works is dead.” The story of John Newton should, I think, inspire us to action. To root ourselves in an understanding of God’s love and mercy and reorient our lives in response. For him, that meant a total life shift and committing himself to a cause deeply grounded in a theology that we are all made equally in God’s image and should be treated in that way. This morning, I invite you to sing this hymn in praise to God, but also as a prayer asking for God’s guidance for the work that is yours to do, trusting that in word and song, the Holy Spirt can and will lead us into action. All because of a grace that is so amazing we cannot help but respond. Let us sing:

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
June 24, 2018

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[i] Crazy Talk: A Not-So-Stuffy Dictionary of Theological Terms, Rolf A. Jacobson, editor, (p. 99). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.
[ii] Robert J. Morgan, Then Sings My Soul: 150 of the World’s Greatest Hymn Stories, (Nashville, TN: W Publishing Group, 2011).
[iii] NRSV Student Bible
[iv] Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1982)

Ash Wednesday Sermon – God’s Return Policy – Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

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One of the realities of living in a consumer-driven culture such as ours is that inevitably at some point, we end up purchasing something and then realizing, for whatever reason, that we need to return it. From unwanted or duplicate gifts to things that don’t fit to products that are defective, life leads us to the customer service area and the return line. And, as long as you’re not in too much of a hurry, it’s a pretty good system. One of the keys to a successful trip, and to not holding up the line, is to know something about the store’s return policy. Receipts can be a saving grace, but if you’ve lost that little strip of paper, stores can now look up your purchase if you used a credit card.  Without some record, you might be stuck with the lowest retail price from the past 90 days, the opportunity for an exchange, or simply store credit. Reading the fine print, a store’s return policy gets quickly complicated. If you’ve made your purchase online, you add another layer of complexity, even if they have retail stores nearby. Sometimes the long lines and hassle can make you wonder if it’s even worth it to make the return, or if you should just cut your losses and keep what you have.

Our experience with returns might help us as we begin the season of Lent. This is a time when we’re called to closely examine our lives and seek to be more faithful followers of Christ. In doing so, we are likely to find aspects of our lives that need to be changed or eliminated entirely – exchanged or return, if you will. Consider it standing in line for God’s customer service – a 40 day line (not including Sundays) where you think more about what it is that you are carrying, and prepare to lighten the load at the counter. To make this analogy work, we have to understand God’s return policy. To do so, we turn to Scripture.

The prophets have a lot to say about returns. In fact, it’s one of their most popular words of instruction to the Israelites. “In Hebrew, this verb means ‘to arrive again at the initial point of departure.’ Here it suggests that one had been originally with God, had moved away from God, and was not returning to God[i].” Return is an about face, a change in direction, and a reorientation to the world. It is a word of hope and a word of covenant, trusting that returning to God will bring about restoration for God’s people. Joel follows this understanding of return, calling God’s people to it in the text we read tonight. Throughout this short book, he suggests that Jerusalem has forgotten who God is, and calls upon God’s people to rediscover the identity of the one true God. Verse 13 reminds God’s people of the true divine nature. This description is ancient – going all the way back to promise of God to Moses in Exodus 34 after the people had created a golden calf. It is the perfect, concise example of God’s return policy: that God is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.” All of our questions about returning to God rest on this truth.

Joel speaks of return in the context of imminent disaster, perhaps a natural one with a plague of locusts. The beginning of our reading tonight indicates something looming on the horizon, which Joel attributes to calamity brought about by “the day of the Lord.” Something big is going to happen. One commentary refers to this text as “an alarm bell in the darkness of the night[ii].” Joel’s language would immediately register with the Israelites in Judah; it is a call to attention and to action. Given this policy, we are called to get our items, and ourselves, in order quickly. Don’t just leave your returns on the kitchen counter or lost in your trunk, a procrastinated item from the errands list. Pay attention to them and get it done. This is the work of return. This is the work of Lent. Lent is about letting go of those things that get in the way of our relationship with God and with others. It is about sorting through all the “stuff” that we have in our lives and make decisions about what should stay and what should go. This is why some people “give up” things for the season, and others take on new practices or focus on things in a new way.

But more than just “giving something up” for a season, I think our passage tonight asks what do you have to return to God? Those things in your life that you would like to change, but need help to make it happen. Those things that just aren’t working for you to grow in the ways you know God is calling you to. Those things you wish you hadn’t bought into and would like to give up. Those things that you simply have too much of and don’t really need. Take inventory over these next 40 days, and don’t be afraid to bring them to God for return. There’s no limit on what God will take back. In fact, God invites us to bring it all – even the things we are too embarrassed to talk about. God is always ready and waiting, open 24 hours a day if you will, to hear us.

Sometimes, the return process includes naming why we are returning or exchanging a particular item. Some of the options include: didn’t fit (too big or too small), wasn’t what was expected, changed my mind, the product was defective, and so on. This naming is important for us to do in Lent. It helps us do more than just identify our sins – it calls us to understand where they came from in order to make the changes needed to hopefully avoid repeating them in the future. It enables God to work with us and make us into new creations. It’s God’s exchange process at work, a process that utimately isn’t dependent on anything we have done or can do, but reminds us that we are solely reliant on God’s love and grace. In the midst of what is very difficult and sobering work, this is good news. God not only takes back our returns, no matter what – God works in us to make us right with God once again. Returning to God, as Joel outlines in verse 13, is more than just a transactional return; this is a process of transformation.

Lent calls us to read the fine print God’s return policy. It allows us to test it out, carefully and thoughtfully. We do so confident in who God is. And if the words of prophets like Joel aren’t strong enough to convince us, there is one more guarantee in place. In the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God’s grace was revealed to the whole world. In Christ, the promises of God from the very beginning were sealed forever. In life and in death, we belong to God. This is what we gather to remind ourselves of tonight, receiving crosses on our foreheads to indicate whose we are, symbolized in ashes to remind us of our own mortality and our utter dependence on God for all things. We get in line, not only to confess our sins and humble ourselves, as covering in ashes symbolized in the days of the prophets, but also to return ourselves to the one who created us from nothing, and loves us through anything.

The return line begins here, tonight. Bring what you have, who you are this evening, and know that you can continue to return what you need to over this season of Lent and beyond. There is no return too big or too small. There is no return that God will not accept. For God already knows everything we could possibly bring, and has chosen to love us anyway. So come, Return to the Lord. Trust that God is gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and always ready for your return. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
Ash Wednesday, February 14, 2018

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[i] Dianne Bergant, “Joel 2:1-2, 12-17, Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[ii] Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary based on the NRSV, Year C. Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, J. Clinton McCann, Jr., James D. Newsome, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994)

Sunday’s Sermon – Comfort, Comfort – Isaiah 40:1-11; 2 Peter 3:8-15a

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If it is raining outside, then it is highly likely we are having spaghetti for dinner. It’s an unintentional tradition that started in my family when I was growing up, but I just can’t help continuing it. For me, it seems that the solution to a rainy, dreary day is a comforting plate of pasta. Comfort foods are not a novel concept, of course. They tend to have a nostalgic factor or sentimental value to us, and are often characterized by a high calorie count, lots of carbs, or easy prep. Whether it’s fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, or warm chocolate fudge brownies, most of us tend to have those “go-to” favorites after a long day. Of course, in the South, we are known for these comfort delicacies. They are so deeply engrained in us that we may not even notice. For example, it took me a while to realize that my first response when a friend or my husband has had a bad day was to offer them something to eat. In southern culture, if someone is having a tough time, you show up with a casserole, right? It didn’t dawn on me that they weren’t necessarily hungry.

Food, of course, is among the many things that can bring us comfort. As children we have comfort objects – special blankets or stuffed animals. As adults we graduate a bit sometimes to a favorite pillow. Mister Rogers would change his shoes and sweater when he got home as a sign of settling into a comfortable place. The list of what brings us comfort can get quite lengthy.

“Comfort, comfort” are the words from Isaiah. This is a familiar text, and many of us hear it in musical form thanks to Handel’s Messiah. It strikes in us those same warm fuzzy feelings as our other ways of comforting ourselves. We hear it in the context of the holiday season, eagerly anticipating the cries of “Hallelujah!” that will come in just two weeks with the birth of Christ. However, these words are meant to convey a far greater understanding of comfort than a favorite meal or fuzzy robe and slippers. If we aren’t careful, we will gloss over them as lovely Christmas card sentiments and platitudes, and lose the rich context in which they were originally spoken. These are meant to be words of restoration and hope to the people of Israel. To capture the depth of their meaning, we need to hear them aware of the context in which they were originally shared.

Most scholars agree that the lengthy 66 chapters of Isaiah are actually a compilation of several writers, given their structure and literary profiles and thematic approaches. Chapter 40 begins what is known as “Second Isaiah,” or Deutero-Isaiah, believed to have been written around the start of the sixth century. Extending through chapter 55, this section was likely written during the exile in Babylon, earning this author the title of “Prophet of Exile.” He is also known as the “prophet of consolation,” which recognizes the heart of the message these chapters contain. Isaiah is writing in the midst of a people who have lost everything and have been separated from all they knew. Lamentations 1:3 describes their situation:

“Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude; she now lives among the nations, and finds no resting place; her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress”.

The people of Israel were in the throes of crisis, wondering if God was with them or not. As Paul Hanson notes:

This was the Judah addressed by Second Isaiah, a community that saw added to its physical suffering the anguish of being caught in a crossfire of conflicting messages: Israel is a people chosen by a loving God who will care for all its needs. God’s love has turned to wrath. Israel’s God lacks the power to withstand the assaults to Babylon and its pantheon. God is punishing Israel for its sin. God no longer loves Israel. God does not care. What sort of response did this moment of crisis require?[i]

Isaiah’s response was to return the people to a familiar, central concept of their faith. He was providing a sort of theological comfort food, if you will, meant to nourish God’s people during this time of separation. Isaiah reminds those in exile of God’s steadfast commitment to the covenant. Earlier in the Old Testament, such points of clarity have been portrayed in similar ways (see 1 Kings 22:19-24 and the first two chapters of the book of Job): a divine council deliberating about the ultimate meaning and cause of some situation. God gathers a heavenly host together with a simple message to deliver: Comfort! This proclamation reveals the very character of God and intention for God’s relationship with God’s people.

Kathleen O’Connor observes that:

The God proclaimed by Second Isaiah comes in strength with arms stretched out in triumph. But this strength itself is paradoxical, because it is not the strength of a bloody avenger, a violent brute, or a demanding judge. No, this God’s strength appears in a barely thinkable power of gentleness, in tender and caring presence, in intimacy such as a shepherd expresses when gathering the wounded, scattered flock.[ii]

Put another way, this text describes the wonder and glory of God in accessible, relational ways. Through Isaiah, God gives a glimpse of what restoration looks like; one with God at the center; a God who is loving even in the midst of passing judgment and righting the injustices in the world, whether that is lifting up those in valleys or leveling those who sit upon pompous mountains. This is no cheap grace being offered, but rather is the reconciling work of a mighty God. This is what we anticipate in Advent; the arrival of God’s love. Isaiah presents one vision of that for us today.

For God’s people in exile, it was particularly important for them to cling to this image and understanding of God. They were:

in a chaotic situation in which people were tempted either to throw out all forms of the past or to cling mindlessly to tradition out of fear of change, [and so] it was terribly important to maintain a comprehensive vision of reality ordered around one life-giving Center[iii].

Second Isaiah’s words needed to be powerful and persuasive in order to generate the kind of hope and faith that could return them to a relationship with God that would lead them back to Jerusalem. It seems that the promise of God’s love would do just that.

“Comfort, Comfort”; these are words of assurance, and one response to the cries of “how long?!” lifted here last week. They are tender words of promise that can calm and quiet the chaos we experience in our lives, from the gut-wrenching difficult moments of loss to the drama and busyness of a holiday season. Their words can wrap us in a heavenly hug and again focus our attention on the meaning of this time of waiting and anticipation – the Advent of God’s love here on earth. The Advent that came long ago with Jesus’ birth, and the Advent that is to come as we anticipate Christ’s return.

In describing this second Advent, 2 Peter also gives hint to this nature of God. The verses we read today, often misinterpreted and used as fear-tactic texts for the second coming, are rich with an understanding of God’s nature to forgive and love. The people of God are impatient, wondering when Christ will return as promised. Like those in exile, they are questioning if God has abandoned them. To them, the writer of 2 Peter reminds them of their center, just as Isaiah did. He writes that God is “not slow about his promise,” but rather, is patiently waiting so that all come to repent before the day of the Lord. The implication here is that God wants to respond to the world in ways that are loving and gracious, but the world isn’t there yet. While we may argue some with the implications, the writer here seeks to present God in ways that are consistent with the descriptions in Isaiah and others in Scripture, as a God whose steadfast love endures forever. And here, 2 Peter intimates, God has forever to wait.

It’s important, I think, to know the posture with which God waits. Poet Steve Collins describes it this way:

God waits for us,
not like a lion ready to pound
if we let our guard down,
not like an interfering in-law
but like an old friend who’s seen it all before
and likes us anyway,
with whom we can spend time
without having to pretend or explain[iv].

This is Advent waiting; more than the love of a spouse holding a loved one’s purse outside of a dressing room; more than a parent waiting what feels like forever for a toddler to put on his shoes and coat all by himself. This is a waiting marked by LOVE.

“The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” God’s presence and God’s love can and will endure anything. That is the heart of the gospel. Words that bring firm ground on which we can stand, and yes, find comfort.

“Comfort, Comfort”; these are also words of calling. They are in the imperative form in the Hebrew text, meaning they are commands and instructions.  As Richard Ward writes:

These words are not just for us to savor like food at a holiday feast. We are in the situation of the celestial ones and the prophets in the text, trying to find a way to speak them to others that God loves[v].

Isaiah’s words are meant to be proclaimed from the high mountaintops. The prophet is given a new message, declaring the glory of the Lord! “Here is your God!” This is the message we are called to shout with our voices and proclaim with our actions.

Advent is a perfect time to live into this calling. It happens when neighbors lend a hand shoveling snow, or offer warmth and comfort to those without power. It happens when we send messages of love through Christmas cards or phone calls. It happens when we let someone in to traffic or greet stork clerks with a patient smile and appreciation for their work.  It happens when we show compassion to our neighbors. Through Santa’s Caravan, we provide gifts of toys and clothing and food for 175 children, most of whom live in a 5 mile radius from our church. The work has been happening for months, and now is at full force. Yesterday many volunteers prepared the gym; this morning cheerful souls packed food boxes and our children stuffed stockings, and the work will continue into next weekend. This mission of our congregation provides a witness of comfort and a demonstration of God’s love.  In all of these and more, we proclaim the good news of God, a God of HOPE and LOVE, in eager anticipation of Christ’s coming.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
December 10, 2017

[i] Paul D. Hanson, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Isaiah 40-66, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1995).
[ii] Kathleen M. O’Connor, “Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 40:1-11,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
[iii] Paul D. Hanson
[iv] Steve Collins,  “God Waits.” Alternative Worship: Resources from and for the Emerging Church, compiled by Jonny Baker & Doug Gay with Jenny Brown (Grand Rapids, MI:Baker Books, 2003) 36.
[v] Richard F. Ward, “Homiletical Perspective: Isaiah 40:1-11,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

Sunday’s Sermon – That’s Not Fair! – Matthew 20:1-16

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Being the oldest of three children is not always as glamorous as it seems.  On one hand, you tend to get a good bit of attention early on, and sometimes get privileges because you are the oldest. On the other hand, though, you’re the Guinea pig for your parents as they learn the ropes. This means, at some point, you will watch your younger siblings get to do things you never would have been able to do at that age. Somehow, they get to stay up or go out later, watch more grown up tv shows, and generally be way less supervised. And they never get in nearly as much trouble. Admittedly, as I observed my brothers growing up, multiple times I found myself exclaiming, “that’s not fair!!!”

That’s not fair could be the title of today’s story in our Bibles. It’s the exclamation of those who have worked all day, long and hard, and get to the front of the line to receive exactly the pay they’ve been promised, likely a small amount, but the going rate that was fair for a day’s pay. If you consider just their experience, such a cry seems odd. They came, agreed on a price, worked as agreed, and got their reward. So why are they so cranky? Because from the back of the pay line they have seen the landowner paying others, those who had worked far less. Based on that pay, they’ve come to expect more than was promised. Surely they had earned it. And yet, they only get the original amount promised. Just like those who arrived last.

It’s just not fair. And actually, that’s kind of the point of the parable, illustrated plainly in the conversation with the landowner, who reminds those laborers that he has fulfilled his promise to them in full; why are they resentful for graciousness shown to others? Jesus introduces this as an example of what the kingdom of heaven is like. Emile Deith, former president of Montreat Conference Center, used to greet conference attendees with a joke about such an image. He’d comment that “Montreat is a lot like heaven; you see a lot of people you didn’t expect to see.” The joke fit, reflecting the connectional, small world nature of the Presbyterian church, where you smile as you see friends you haven’t seen in a while in that holy mountain spot beyond the gate. But what if you said it as a summary of this parable: “in the kingdom of heaven you will see people who haven’t worked as hard or as long as you but get the same reward?” Well, that almost offends us if we’re honest. This parable rubs us. Something doesn’t seem right about it. That’s because we’re probably the most like those all day workers, and it’s hard to reconcile the gracious generosity of the landowner. We, too, might be equally envious and grumble a bit. So were many of the original listeners.
Commentator Patrick Wilson reflects that:

We may be entrepreneurial enough to agree that the owner of the vineyard can run his business any way he pleases, but we cannot rest comfortably with his payroll policies…. If the master is determined to be generous, why not pay those fellows who worked all day a bonus? That also would be fair. The way generosity gets passed around in this tale abrades our sense of justice[1].

Considering that this is a parable, and clearly the landowner is meant to represent God, we might quickly conclude the following: God’s not fair. The parable is great news to those hired at the end of the day, promised to be paid what was fair, and even to those hired midday, with the same unnamed but just amount promised. It’s harder to hear it as good news if we’ve been there all day. We take the exchange and salary for granted, not truly wrapping our heads around the gift that it is.

We are too close to ourselves, too wrapped up in our own skins, too bundled in our own terrible needs, to see truly what God gives us. What God, in goodness and generosity, gives us we are likely to assume is our due, something we have earned, a goodness we have fabricated for ourselves. We see other people more clearly than we see ourselves[2].

And in this context, our cries of “that’s not fair!” more likely than not expose our own warped sense of entitlement; or at least our privilege and our resistance to sharing it with anyone else.

The workers protest that in his decision, the landowner has made the later in the day workers “equal” to them, and you can imagine that word “equal” said with a dirty taste in the mouth. It seems the workers, and us, rely on systems of inequality in order to maintain our own sense of self-worth and value. Work is more than just earning a daily wage; it determines whether or not we are considered successful or a failure, superior or inferior. It is a source of division and competition[3]. And the landowner upsets the apple cart by showing generosity to everyone.

In my family, my brothers and I would jokingly compete for the title of “favorite child” with my parents. We used it as a tool of persuasion and a way to harass each other. It was a game to us most of the time, but also reflects a very real part of our nature to want to be the chosen one. That’s why this parable offends us so much I think. If the landowner, if God, is going to be extravagant and generous, why not towards us? We want to be the favorite children of God.

Here’s the thing- we are all “favorites”. In showing generosity to the other workers, the landowner wasn’t taking away from the first workers. He was simply adding to those who would be blessed. It’s not like God was giving out one pie, and dividing it into smaller and smaller pieces of pie because more people were there. Everyone was getting pie.

This parable reminds us that there is an ongoing tension between our sense of justice and fairness and our understanding of God’s radical and abundant grace. And it’s a story that plays out over and over again in our scriptures:

Jonah sat on the brow of the hill outside of Nineveh and pouted when God spared the city. The elder brother thought his father a doting old fool when his father invited him to join the celebrating at the prodigal’s return. The Pharisee at prayer thanks God that he is not like the sinful publican. Divine grace is a great equalizer which rips away presumed privilege and puts all recipients on a par[4].

Parables are meant to turn the mirror on us, and beg us to put ourselves in the story. No matter where we are in the payment line, this parable asks us to consider how we might respond to God’s grace, whether expected because of a relationship established long ago, or something that comes in the middle of the day or even at the last minute.

If we find that we are among the grumbles, this parable might just be calling us to check our privilege, and ask us why we are so guarded about others receiving the most basic daily needs. The landowner asks those who grumble to take a different perspective. The literal translation of the question he asks about envy reads “is your eye evil?” The struggle in the text isn’t about the transaction between the landowner and those later laborers. It’s about the struggle with the lens through which the original laborers are viewing the situation. Perhaps, if they can understand the true beauty of the grace shown to those they deem undeserving, they might realize that the same measure of unbelievable, unmerited, loving grace is what has been given to them all along as well.

Grace is something we talk about a lot, but never really know what to make of or what to do with it. Renowned Southern writer Flannery O’Conner wrestled with it in her fantastic short story titled “Revelation,” which details the scene of a well-to-do woman, Mrs. Turpin sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, passing deplorable judgment on those around her, not just in her head. After some time, a young woman finally explodes from the confines of her own chair and lunges after the protagonist, screaming that she is a “wart hog from hell.” The final moments bring Mrs. Turpin to consider what truth these words might be, even considering her charity to the less fortunate and church-going ways. She brings her wrestling to God. O’Conner writes:

What do you send me a message like that for?” She said in a low, fierce voice, barely above a whisper but with the force of a shout in its concentrated fury. “How am I a hog and me both? How am I saved and from hell too?[5]”

Such a moment calls attention to the ongoing need for us to examine ourselves, to realize that perhaps we aren’t really as deserving of the privileges we hold, and instead are completely reliant on God’s grace alone. Such a revelation on our part will bring about some hard questionings about our own priorities and opinions about others. It will mean we have hard work to do. It will cause us to push back. As O’Conner herself noted:

All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful[6].

But if we can get past our resistance, if we can get past the grumbling, we might just discover a better response to grace – gratitude. For what God gives to others, and for what God gives to us as well. That is what the parable is driving us towards.

And then, we can truly proclaim those words of the Psalmist that we called ourselves to worship with this morning:

The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
The Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.

That’s not fair! May we have the faith for that cry to shift from envy to joy. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 24, 2017

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[1] Patrick J. Willson, “Homiletical Perspective: Matthew 20:1-16,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).
[2] Patrick J. Willson
[3] Based on work by Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins: A Sociopolitical and Religions Reading, (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000), 394, as quoted in Charles Campbell, “Homiletical Perspective: Matthew 20:1-16,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlet and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011).
[4] Walter Brueggemann, Charles B. Cousar, Beverly R. Gaventa, James D. Newsome, “Proper 20,’ Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year A, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).
[5] Flannery O’Conner, “Revelation,” http://producer.csi.edu/cdraney/archive-courses/summer06/engl278/e-texts/oconner_revelation.pdf
[6] Flannery O’Conner, as quoted by Skip Johnson, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 20:1-16,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

Sunday’s Sermon – The Hard Work of Forgiveness – Matthew 18:21-35

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What does it really mean to forgive someone? We often learn about it as a practice from a very young age, being taught from a very young age to say “I’m sorry,” and then “It’s ok. I forgive you” when something happens that hurts another person. But, as we get older and life gets more complicated, we discover there is far more to it than your cart bumping into someone else at the grocery store or even taking someone else’s toy away in the sandbox. The truth is that life sometimes hurts; not just in general, but in specific, tangible ways that cause us real harm, emotionally, mentally, and even physically. And when we are hurt, or when someone we love is injured, forgiveness is often the farthest thing from our first response. Sure, we hear the countless instructions to forgive, but when it comes down to putting them into practice, we balk. Perhaps because we don’t quite know what forgiveness really looks like, or how exactly we are to go about it.

That essentially is the question Peter is asking Jesus at the onset of today’s gospel lesson. His suggestion of seven times is no accident – that is the biblical signifier of what is complete or perfect. Peter, not surprisingly, wants to get it right. He’s not asking the Rabbi what the bare minimum requirement is to pass the class; Peter wants to ace the exam with a perfect score. Jesus replies, though, with an astronomical figure – seventy-times seven. This isn’t just math to get him to the number 490. It is the response that forgiveness requires something even beyond perfection. Let that sink in for a minute. The goal is the perfection of perfection; infinity times infinity. As Lewis Donelson puts it:

it must be beyond counting. Forgiveness becomes an absolute[i].

No wonder we have such a hard time doing it! However, there is hope in this initial response from Jesus; he indicates that forgiveness is not so much about a check-list or sticker chart or final exam, but instead is about ongoing discipleship. Put another way, forgiveness must become a way of life.

One illustration of this can be seen in the Amish community. Typically,  when we think about the Amish, our first images are of buggies, quilts, jams, and barn-raisings, or perhaps what we’ve gleaned from a reality television series; but an even better marker of Amish life and culture is seen in their practice of faith.

Amish people are likely to say that they are simply trying to be obedient to Jesus Christ, who commanded his followers to do so many peculiar things, such as love, bless, and forgive their enemies. This is not a picture of Amish life that can easily be reproduced on a postcard from Amish Country; in fact, it can be painted only in the grit and grim of daily life[ii].

Almost 11 years ago, on October 2, 2006, tragedy came to Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania as a gunman entered the local school, leading to a hostage situation that killed five schoolgirls and left five others seriously wounded.  It was a devastating time that rocked this small, close-knit community and brought about intense media coverage at the time. Almost as shocking as the violence, though, was the response from the families and community of the victims.

Even as outsiders were responding with compassion for the Amish community in the wake of the shooting, the Amish themselves were doing another kind of work. Softly, subtly, and quietly, they were beginning the difficult task of forgiveness. . . . Within a few hours of the shooting, some Amish people were already reaching out to the killer’s family[iii].

Some went to find the gunman’s wife, children, and extended family, offering words of sympathy and love and forgiveness. As cameras and bright lights shone in field interviews and questions came from tv hosts, the refrain was similar: the Amish insisted that they forgave the gunman almost immediately. A few days later, the community showed up at the gunman’s funeral, and even reached out with financial support for his family. Several weeks later they met with his wife and other members of his family at a local firehouse. In each of these, and the relationship-building instances that followed, the Amish community modeled an authentic and powerful witness of what forgiveness looks like. It almost sounds too good to be true; inconceivable to even those who consider themselves faithful Christians.

In response, a trio of professors worked to explore more about the notion of forgiveness and grace in the Amish community and the implications for the rest of us, interviewing dozens of Amish people from Nickel Mines and beyond.  They shared this work in a book titled Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, which inspired a Lifetime Movie a few years later. It’s worth a read or view as we consider our own theological understanding of forgiveness. One of their underlying questions was, given the importance of forgiveness in the Christian tradition,:

Did the keen public interest in the grace of the Amish stem from the fact that their forgiveness differed from other understanding of forgiveness, or did it arise from the Amish community’s willingness to practice what others only preach?[iv]

As they spoke with the Amish about forgiveness, they found a strong rooting in the community’s belief that forgiveness was an expectation for what it means to follow Jesus Christ. The most prominent citation given from scripture was the parable we read today from Matthew 18, often known as the parable of the unforgiving or unmerciful servant. It is a parable of extremes. Just as Peter and Jesus used big, epic terms in their exchange in the preceding verses, Jesus introduces characters with larger-than-life debts and responses. The concept of ten thousand talents was astronomical. Both “ten thousand” and “talent” were words that were the biggest units in Greek at the time. It would be akin to saying “a million bajillion” or some other inconceivable number. The amount that the servant owed was absurd. The concept of a master forgiving that amount of debt? Also absurd. Thus, the illustration shows a measure of grace in abundance. It is a seventy-times-seven kind of forgiveness of debt. In contrast, of course, is the response of the servant to the one who owes him a debt, comparatively miniscule at only a hundred denarii (a number you could wrap your head around – a denarii is a day’s labor). While we might expect a repeat of the grace exhibited to him, instead we see quite the opposite. And the lord summons the servant to make it clear that this isn’t how it works. Mercy, and grace, and forgiveness, necessitates the same.

“To err is human; to forgive, divine.” These well-known words from the English poet Alexander Pope strike many as the right way to think about forgiveness: as something good but almost impossible to do[v].

In the face of tragedy, and other instances of loss and pain both intentional and accidental, the Amish seem to do the impossible. As the professors discovered in their research, it is largely because, for the Amish, forgiveness is a way of life. It is some of what marks them as a community, and is practiced in smaller ways, which makes the practice of it on such epic levels not as outlandish as it may seem. This fits with the understanding of the pattern that Jesus gave to Peter, a repeated, ongoing forgiveness, seventy-times-seven, might lead to an embodiment of it even in the most trying of circumstances. In order to embody this radical way of living, it might be good to try to name what exactly forgiveness is.

Forgiveness, on its most basic level, is a letting go. Many offer that it is a choice that we make, regardless of remorse shown. It is both psychological and social; it happens both internally within ourselves and externally as we engage with other people. Presbyterian minister, writer, and retreat leader Marjorie Thompson writes:

To forgive is to make a conscious choice to release the person who has wounded us from the sentence of our judgment, however justified that judgment may be. It represents a choice to leave behind our resentment and desire for retribution, however fair such punishment may seem. . . Forgiveness means the power of the original wound’s power to hold us trapped is broken[vi].

Forgiveness is freeing, for more than just the one who might receive it. It is freeing for the one who does the forgiving. The benefits continue, too. Research shows that:

forgiveness is good for the person who offers it, reducing “anger, depression, anxiety, and fear” and affording “cardiovascular and immune system benefits.[vii]”

But, as with most things that are ultimately good for us, it’s often not the most attractive option unless we make efforts for it to become our pattern. Our nature seems to be to get sucked into our own anger and the need for revenge to settle the score. Such an attitude breeds resentment, which is when we re-live that anger over and over again. Incidentally, that’s one of the signs that you haven’t really forgiven – if you are re-living all of those emotions over and over again. Forgiveness calls for a release of those things that bind us. This is what makes it such a theologically important concept – when we let go of that resentment and anger and relinquish the grudges we have, we open up space – space to experience all of the other emotions present in our lives; space to experience grief if we need to grieve, joy and hope the in promises of a brighter tomorrow, and time to work through other things that prevent us from living the lives God intends for us. Most of all, forgiveness offers us the space to experience God’s grace and love more fully.

Let me be clear, though: forgiveness is not just “getting over it.” It is not pretending that some wrong did not occur or forgetting that it happened or acting like the harm done is ok by condoning or excusing it. And it most certainly does not mean putting ourselves in positions where we continue to subject ourselves to harm. “Seventy-times-seven” is not meant to be a number of times which anyone must endure abuse at the hands of another. Rather, forgiveness is naming the offense and declaring that it should not be repeated. Forgiveness is also declaring that the offense will no longer take hold in our lives any more. Forgiveness proclaims that mercy is what will define us.

I think that’s what Jesus was hoping for in his conversation with Peter and the following parable; that the lives of his disciples would be marked by mercy. That’s the example we find in the story of Joseph from Genesis, who even in the face of immense pain – his brothers’ violence and selling him into slavery – would not let pain or violence be what defined him. Forgiveness can certainly open the door to reconciliation and the restoring of relationships. In the instance of the tragedy in Nickel Mines, it did just that, as the community came together and continued to be in relationship with the gunman’s family, who they saw as victims as well. Such a move, though, can only come with a renewal of trust, which may not always be possible. If you aren’t able to get to that point of reconciliation, right now, or ever, that is ok. Focus your work on that of forgiveness – it may be more than enough for you to handle.  Even the Amish admitted that it was hard, excruciating work, repeating the refrain:

“We try to forgive, but we are human too.[viii]”

Forgiveness calls attention to our humanness at its most human. It reduces us to our most base of instincts, and challenges us with the hard work of responding in the way of Christ instead. Examples like that of the Amish, or the lessons taught by Jesus, can be daunting. They are big. Larger than seems possible. But we need such big images to begin to wrap our heads around the nature of God. And such seemingly unreachable examples might just be what we need to begin to take even a little step in the direction forgiveness calls. One opportunity at a time, then seven, then seventy times seven. May we, little by little, move more into the ways of God’s mercy. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

September 17, 2017

———————————————————————————————————[i] Lewis R. Donelson, “Exegetical Perspective: Matthew 18:21-35,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011)

[ii] Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt, David L. Weaver-Zercher, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2007).

[iii] Ibid.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Ibid.

[vi] Marjorie J. Thompson, “Moving toward Forgiveness,” Weavings, March-April 1992, 19, as quoted by Charlotte Dudley Cleghorn, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 18:21-35,” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011)

[vii] Clinical research of Psychologists Robert D. Enright and Everett L. Worthington Jr., as reported in Amish Grace.

[viii] Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt, David L. Weaver-Zercher, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy, (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2007).

Sunday’s Sermon – Anywhere But There – Jonah

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One summer my family and I were vacationing in Panama City Beach, Florida. After a full day of fun in the sun, we came back inside, showered and got dressed for an evening out on the town. I was a teenager at the time, which would have made my youngest brother, Ben, around 6 or 7. He was tired and cranky, and resisted every step from the beach to the car. We parked the car near out favorite hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant, nestled in a strip mall. What followed became an iconic family moment for us. Ben stepped one foot out of the car, saw the lines of stores, stomped his foot and emphatically yelled, “WE’RE NOT GOING TO THE MALL!”, refusing to take one step further. The book of Jonah is a story of a similar temper tantrum.

Jonah is a unique book in many ways. First, it’s the only prophetic book that is not focused on the words OF a prophet, but rather is a story ABOUT a prophet. And while some other prophetic books, like Jeremiah, do give a glimpse of the prophet’s experience, this is one of our best insights into the inner workings of someone who is on a journey to follow where God calls him to lead. Jonah appears one other time in Scripture, speaking to the not so great king Jeroboam II in 2 Kings 14:23-25, promising him God’s favor. This almost passing reference hints that Jonah might not be the prime example of God’s messengers, though. If we read more, we learn that the prophet Amos appeared before Jeroboam II with almost the exact opposite message, saying God’s justice would be against the horrible king (see Amos 6:13-14)(i) . So something is a bit amiss about this prophet. And when you read these four chapters in the book of Jonah, you get a sense of why. One commentary categorizes the story of Jonah as the “subversive story of a rebellious prophet(ii).”

This summer, our reflections together have all revolved around different aspects of travel, but today’s text prompts us to think about those times when we don’t want to go anywhere. There is a clichéd list of places, of course, from the DMV to your in-laws to the dentist; places we dread going, try to avoid, or even throw a tantrum about being there, whether it’s external in a parking lot, or just inside of our heads. But there’s also a resistance, I think, that we sometimes have to those places, literal or metaphorical, where God is calling or leading us in our lives. The book of Jonah becomes a mirror to us that reflects some truths about the difficulties of following God. It’s hard work. Sure, it sounds good to say we are following God, as long as God’s will lines up with ours. But when God asks us do something that takes us out of our comfort zone or preferences, we don’t always want to do it.
Sometimes, we are also rebellious prophets, or at least wayward disciples, too. We run in the other direction entirely. “Sure, God, we’ll follow you . . . anywhere but there, that is.”

When we meet Jonah, he’s been given a simple instruction – go to Nineveh. Nineveh was the capital city of the Assyrian empire, and was known for being a place of sin and evil, the bitter enemy of the people of Israel. We don’t know why Jonah doesn’t want to go, but we can imagine any number of perfectly legitimate reasons: he was afraid for his own safety; he didn’t like the Ninehvites; or maybe he just saw them as a lost cause, not worth the breath of the words he was to say to them. So he gets up to the booking agent in Joppa and instead of going east, it’s as if he picks up a map and goes as far away as he can get in the other direction and puts his fingers on – Tarshish. I recall doing something similar as a high school senior, threatening to my parents that I was going to apply to go to college at the University of Alaska. When things get bad in the children’s book, the main character Alexander declares, “I think I’ll move to Australia(iii).” The truth is that some of us are so stubborn, or frustrated, or scared, that when the option comes to face difficulties head-on, we’d rather turn in the other direction instead. Jonah gets so comfortable in this decision and new path that he is even able to fall asleep in the cabin of the boat.

But God won’t leave us sleeping, continuing to ignore God’s call and pretend like it doesn’t exist. When God calls, God is persistent. For Jonah, God sends a wake-up call in the form of a storm, which rattles the pagan sailors to the point where even they believe in the divine. Then, when that isn’t quite enough and Jonah is tossed overboard, God sends a giant fish to swallow Jonah up and give him the most epic “time-out” of history. During this time, Jonah is able to reflect on what has happened and gain some insights that open him up to what God is actually trying to do in his life.

In the cartoon VeggieTales movie adaptation of this story made, this is where a gospel choir comes in, full chorus, singing that “our God is a God of second chances!(iv)” And while this is a viable and good message to take away from Jonah’s time in the belly of the fish, it’s a bit too small thinking. The reversal in chapter 2 comes in a time of prayer, but in that prayer Jonah doesn’t actually seem to confess, but profess the nature of God; namely a God who hears prayers and does not leave us in the pit. Jonah’s prayer points us to bigger realities at work in this larger-than-life story, particularly relating to God’s mercy. It reminds us that there is no place, not even the far ends of the earth, not even the completely opposite direction from where we are supposed to be traveling, that God cannot and will not go to embrace us with love and mercy.

Now, this is the part of the story that most of us know, and where many stories end. We mark this as the tale of “Jonah and the Whale,” and tie it up neatly with a bow. But it’s so much more than that, particularly if we read the entirety of the book – and we’re already halfway there. But before we move ahead, there’s one more thing we need to note about this unique prophetic book tucked into our Bibles; it’s not really a story that most students of scripture get caught up in arguments about whether or not it happen. Most believe that it’s not a factual, historical account, but rather was written for another purpose. The key to unlocking it, ironically enough, lies in the belly of the whale, our best modern understanding of the Hebrew description, dag gadol, which really means “great fish.” Jonah is a fish tale, indeed, written in an over-the-top, larger-than-life way where hyperbole and stock characters take center stage. Everything is big and exaggerated in order to clearly illustrate the point of the story, which takes almost a parable-like feel. For these reasons of language, the book on the whole is often classified as satire, meant to put unbelievable characters in extreme circumstances to convey big truths through humor and irony.

The first two chapters of Jonah aren’t just a story unto themselves; they are a set-up to what follows. God puts Jonah back on the beach, and repeats the instructions, “go to Nineveh.” And this time he does, but we might imagine him doing so with a “hurmph” or a “fine,” because he delivers his message in a pretty succinct and non-descriptive way. Five words in Hebrew. Clearly whatever was his struggle with going to Nineveh is still at work. He’s abandoned all of the typical prophetic structures. There is no mention of “the Word of the Lord” or a listing of the Ninehvites’ sins or what will happen in great detail. He doesn’t even mention God! Again, Jonah reaches unruly prophet status.

But even in spite of Jonah’s lackluster performance, the people of Nineveh repent. The ruthless king repents. Even the cows repent (remember how this is meant to be over the top and a little ridiculous?). And God spares the city from the calamity intended. This is a prophetic victory; you would think that Jonah would be thrilled, or doing victory laps around those who had changed their ways. But instead, Jonah pouts. He complains to God, making the argument that if this was going to happen, his trip had no purpose. He sarcastically says that he knew this was the character of God all along. It’s meant as an insult, offered as an excuse for why Jonah ran away in the first place. He cannot imagine a God whose mercy would be so big and wide that it could even include the people of Nineveh. This same Jonah who had received such wonderful mercy in the belly of the great fish, can now not seem to accept that mercy shown to others, much less extend it himself. The story shifts from Jonah’s protesting “I’ll go anywhere but there” to “Show mercy to anyone but them.” The rest of chapter 4, which I’ll leave as your homework assignment this week, gives another example as God tries to help Jonah see the ridiculousness of his anger – you might view his request to God to kill him as a melodramatic teenager who screams that her parents have ruined her life. The end of the book leaves Jonah sitting outside of the city, still pouting, still a cranky prophet who just can’t seem to get where God wants him to go.

The ending to the book is so open-ended that it points directly back to us, the readers. It begs us to consider what the Ninevehs are in our own lives. Where are those places that God is nudging us to go, but we are stubbornly resisting? Who are the people that we can’t imagine God loving, so we sit and pout instead? Can we handle a God whose love and grace and mercy is so deep and so wide? It’s a great thing to think about when we’re in prayerful contemplation in the belly of a fish, but when we really put it into practice it often contradicts many of our righteous sensibilities. The story of Jonah is one about how radically God pushes the limits of grace and mercy. Will we run in the other direction? Or maybe, we can learn from Jonah’s journey, and get out of those ships heading in the other direction, or bellies of great fish, or hillsides next to the city, and embrace the kind of radical love God is offering to each of us, and to the world. As Jonah reminds us, we have a God who is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing” (Jonah 4:2). Let’s not run from that.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 9, 2017

[i] For an excellent overview of the entire story of Jonah, including some of these critical textual notes, check out this video produced by The Bible Project: https://thebibleproject.com/explore/jonah/. Accessed 7/8/17.
[ii] “Jonah,” The Bible Project: https://thebibleproject.com/explore/jonah/. Accessed 7/8/17.
[iii] Judith Viorst, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. (Antheneum Books, 1987).
[iv]Jonah: A VeggieTales Movie, LionsGate, 2003.

Food Pantry

Food distribution is scheduled the 1st Saturday of the month at 10:00 am and the 3rd Wednesday of the month at 12:30 pm.

The next Drive-Up Food Pantry is scheduled for Wednesday, May 21 at 12:30 pm.  Accurate pre-registration is strongly encouraged to ensure volunteers pack accordingly.
Please sign- up here!

For other pantry locations, go here
or text “FINDFOOD” to 888-976-2232

Church News

Volunteers are needed to help pack family boxes Monday, May 19th at 10 am in the Fellowship Hall. We welcome all volunteers.  

Food Pantry distribution volunteer opportunity Wednesday, May 21 registration here!

Worship Live Streaming and archives can be found by clicking the appropriate link under the worship tab.

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Upcoming Events

Worship

Sunday Schedule

9:00 AM
Responding in Faith Sunday School Class
     via Zoom with Barbara Jessee

9:15 AM
Bible University Sunday School Class
    with Dr. Tom Scott
Hybrid format (in-person & via Zoom)

Connections Sunday School Class
with Mark Bixler
Hybrid format (in-person & via Zoom)

Youth Bible Study (Room 8) 6- 12th grade

Kids Club – (Room 7)
Biblically-based Faith Formation Activities for Preschool – 5th Grade
Praise Kids Music on the 3rd Sunday of the month.

10:30 AM
In-Person Worship and Livestreamed via   YouTube.

Youth Group – the first and third Sunday of the month from 5-7 pm during the school year.