Make A Joyful Noise

A Sermon for Sunday, May 5, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Psalm 98.

Yesterday was my favorite secular holiday of the entire year: Star Wars Day! As many of you are probably aware, I am an avid Star Wars fan, and I have trained my two younglings in the ways of The Force. 

In the Star Wars universe “The Force” is a mysterious energy field created by life [all living things] that binds the galaxy together,”^[1] and the concept is a central part of the Star Wars saga. Characters will routinely offer a blessing of goodwill to another by saying: “May the force be with you.” Over the last couple of decades, fans have turned that mantra into a call and response where one person says, “May the force be with you,” and the other person responds: “And also with you.” The Star Wars farewell exchange—which fans created to acknowledge a common passion for the most impactful sci-fi franchise in modern history—is said with as much love and care as church folks who pass the peace of Christ during a worship service. 

Now, part of the reason I share that with you is because Star Wars Day is celebrated annually on the same date, i.e. May the Fourth…thus fans will loudly shout out the pun: “May the Fourth be with you!” and they do all sorts of fun Star Wars activities with their friends and families.  Every year, I decorate a tabletop or kitchen counter with Star Wars action figures, books, and novelties, along with a Star Wars gift for each of the kids. And then we typically watch a Star Wars movie or TV show and eat Star Wars themed food like Solo’s Han-Burgers, Tie-Fighter Fries and Yoda Soda. 

This time, I took Davis to the theater to see the 25^th Anniversary presentation of “Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace.” Sure, we could’ve easily watched it at home via numerous media options. But this was a must because it would be Davis’ first experience seeing a Star Wars film on the big screen. We had a blast, of course. 

Although we’ve seen the film more than a few times previously, we weren’t bored in the least. We were excited and joy filled. The stunning orchestration of John Williams’ film score…drew us immediately into the origin story of the iconic fictional villain, Darth Vader, which featured spectacular action sequences, moments of mystery, intrigue, and clever references to the original trilogy of the late 70s and early 80s. Davis and I relished every bit despite knowing exactly what was going to happen in each scene of the film. 

He and I never tire of digesting Star Wars, including books and comics, repeatedly. Whether it’s old content or new, we know that in Star Wars, good eventually triumphs over evil, and the heroes look forward to honoring their fallen friends by re-building a galaxy that is free from the terror of The Galactic Empire. 

Davis and I typically have discussions about the themes of love, faith, spirituality, compassion, friendship, empathy, selflessness, learning from mistakes, mercy, and redemption that flow throughout the strange and delightful Star Wars universe we enjoy so much. We talk about the importance of those themes in daily life—of helping people in need, for being kind to our neighbors and stand up to those who are mistreating another.  Millions of Star Wars fans, across the globe, continually return to these magnificent other-worldly tales because they tap into the core of what it means to be human, to be community and to get through this crazy world we live in and often feel like we’re merely surviving.

Interestingly enough, a lot of Star Wars fans are people of faith. Several are Catholics and mainline Protestants, and a good portion of those are pop culture geek-loving Presbyterian pastors like me. We see the similarities between the movies, and the figures and themes in the holy scriptures. We know, as you do, how the Bible story goes. We’ve heard it millions of times since we were children. We’ve read and sung, with blessed assurance, about this story of God and humanity, (God and us), so many times that we know much of by heart. 

We’ve lived and breathed those stories of Abraham, Sarah, Jacob, Isaac, Moses, Ruth, Isaiah, Jeremiah, David, and Jesus. We’ve memorized God’s words and messages so we can recite them in moments of distress, and we’ve turned to those dog-eared pages in our Bibles when our minds have been full of worry, and we needed a moment of solace. We’ve studied and contemplated these stories through Christian Education programs and fellowship activities and mission projects. We’ve gathered together in worship to rejoice in what God did for God’s people long ago in ancient Israel and what God is doing among God’s people today. 

We know how the story ends and yet we never grow weary of returning to the scriptures and savoring the parts that inspire and challenge each of us to be God’s faithful servants and ambassadors for Christ’s love throughout the world.

In a biblical commentary on Psalm 98, minister and scholar, Barbara Essex, says the scripture passage reminds Christians that in collaboration we stand before and worship a God who loves us and wants to help us enjoy the fullness of life. Essex writes: ^[2]

We are invited to sing anew the old songs—songs that recall all that God has done and the promise that God is alive and active in our own time. We too are in bondage to many things. We are overwhelmed and saddened by the messiness of the world and our contribution to the chaos that surrounds us. We are mired in greed, addictions, and estrangement from God, each other, and our own selves. 

Our communities are no longer neighborhoods of cooperation and camaraderie. … Yet we are claimed by the same God who did and continues to do marvelous things—the horror of the cross with its oppressive and false triumph of imperial power is transformed into the symbol of suffering love. Through the birth, life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, God shows again that God reigns with strong arms and mighty hands. What God did for Israel, God continues to do for us—bringing salvation and justice and wholeness. Our God still makes a way out of no way.

The Israelites discovered—in the midst of enslavement and genocide and displacement—ways to stay together as a community and sing songs of praise, like Psalm 98. Praise is an uplifting, humanizing ritual that joins our hearts to our Creator, Sustainer and Redeemer. Praise helps us stay connected in trying situations and motivates us to be generous with our hearts to support God’s work and devote ourselves to serving others. Let us hear the words of the psalmist once again:

http://blogdelanine.blogspot.com/2007/11/bible-verse-of-week-psalm-987-8.html

¹   O sing to the LORD a new song, 
          for he has done marvelous things. 
     His right hand and his holy arm 
          have gained him victory. 
²   The LORD has made known his victory; 
          he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations. 
³   He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness 
          to the house of Israel. 
     All the ends of the earth have seen 
          the victory of our God.

⁴   Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth; 
          break forth into joyous song and sing praises. 
⁵   Sing praises to the LORD with the lyre, 
          with the lyre and the sound of melody. 
⁶   With trumpets and the sound of the horn 
          make a joyful noise before the King, the LORD.

⁷   Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; 
          the world and those who live in it. 
⁸   Let the floods clap their hands; 
          let the hills sing together for joy 
⁹   at the presence of the LORD, for he is coming 
          to judge the earth. 
     He will judge the world with righteousness, 
          and the peoples with equity.

Ismael Garcia, professor of Christian Ethics at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, observes the following about Psalm 98:^[3]

Ultimately, it is the ordering rule of the Lord that alone provides the stability and dependability that makes it possible for us to live full lives within both nature and history. God’s new, unexpected, and marvelous acts do not just sustain order but point toward the creation of new possibilities of life beyond all human expectations. A new song thus becomes imperative, so that all creation praises and celebrates these unexpected, unique, and marvelous deeds of the Lord. 

We can sing new songs of praise because we have witness of how the Lord is in control and that nothing will stand against or defeat God’s liberating purpose. We can sing new songs of praise because God too is constantly doing new things among us—new things to renew nature and history as well. The salvation of the Lord will prevail—good news indeed and worthy of a new song. …

The Lord’s judgment brings the kind of justice and equity that makes it possible for humans to live in harmony among themselves and with the whole of creation. The salvation of the Lord and the justice of the Lord are one and the same. No dimension of existence that has suffered the distortions and abuses of the prevailing powers and principalities will escape it. The personal, the social, the political, and the ecological spheres will be made anew and whole again (vv. 7–9). Thus, even the sea and the earth are invited to praise and rejoice.

We too are invited to join in a new song that remembers what forever remains constant and true: God is sovereign, and God’s rule of justice, righteousness, equity, and peace will always be greater than any earthly power. Our praise and joy affirm who God is, what God has done and what God will continue to do to shape and transform the world with unconditional love and grace. 

We join in a new song and make a joyful noise to the Lord with the same exuberance as a Star Wars fan who gets giddy whenever they hear the movie score or see that opening crawl or watch Luke Skywalker have a light saber battle with Darth Vader for the umpteenth time.  

We join in a new song and make a joyful noise so that the hope of God’s kingdom may be known and received and shared by all. 

And all God’s people said…amen.

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^[1] https://www.starwars.com/databank/the-force

^[2] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2: Lent through Eastertide (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume. Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

^[3] Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2: Lent through Eastertide (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume. Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Abide In Me

A Sermon for Sunday April 28, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. John 15:1-8 and Acts 8:26-40.

Over the previous eight months the Presbyterian Women Morning and Evening Circles have been exploring the curriculum, Sacred Encounters: The Power and Presence of Jesus Christ in Luke-Acts; and last month they studied and discussed the apostle Philip’s stirring encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch.  The story is significant because it reveals that the gospel—the good news of God’s reign in Christ Jesus—has spread beyond Israel, and it demonstrates how an understanding of the scriptures, the word of God, helps build the beloved community or kingdom of God.  A commentary on Acts 8:26-40 notes: ^[1]

In Acts, the larger theme around and underneath this week’s passage is the Jesus movement opening up also to include Gentiles (that is, non-Jews as well as Jews). The Ethiopian eunuch, while a prestigious figure in a foreign royal court, is nonetheless an outsider. For Luke, an “Ethiopian” meant anyone from territories south of Egypt, a region some ancient writers (from the northern and eastern sides of the Mediterranean) depicted as the outer edge of the known world. As a Gentile whose status as a eunuch meant he traditionally could not become a Jew (see, e.g., Leviticus 21:20) his conversion foreshadows Cornelius’ conversion (Acts 10-11) which in turn inaugurates the official Christian mission to the Gentiles. Thus, the choreography here reflects an expanding circle of inclusion within God’s good news of salvation.

In ancient biblical times, the word “eunuch” was often used to characterize any man whose private parts have been removed or destroyed. Due to an extremely narrow view of masculinity, the ancient world defined a man as someone with their privates intact, thus, men without their reproductive systems were no longer recognized as being fully male. Additionally, Jewish eunuchs were treated as outcasts in their communities because their deformity was at odds with their religion, which ascribed divine esteem to the practices of marriage and procreation. 

But the Jesus movement defies the prejudice and exclusiveness by extending an invitation to all people and walks of life to join God’s revolution of love—which is essentially epitomized by this sacred meeting between Phillip, a Jewish man and one of the original twelve disciples meets with the Ethiopian eunuch, a non-Jew who is in charge of his queen’s treasury.  The story is an incredible example of Jesus’ final instructions to the disciples prior to his betrayal and arrest in which he said:

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 

For anyone who is pondering what it means to abide in Christ and to become disciples who bear good fruit, you don’t have to look any further than Phillip and the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8. Philip, via the Holy Spirit, greets the traveling worshipper with openness. Philip sees the Ethiopian eunuch as a cherished creation instead of an outcast who has been labeled a “half human.” He treats him with dignity and respect as opposed to shaming him like the religious authorities would’ve done. And the Ethiopian eunuch welcomes Philip’s assistance and knowledge, and then joyfully desires to be baptized by Phillip—a sacrament of the church that affirms that each person is an esteemed child of God who belongs forever to God’s family. Put simply, Philip and the Ethiopian, eunuch, through their interaction, abide in Christ’s love for one another.

A biblical scholar says that abiding in Jesus as Jesus abides in us is about fostering honest, loving and healthy relationships with our neighbors and welcoming the ones who’ve been excluded from public and religious spheres and pushed to the margins of society. They observe:^[2]

The Ethiopian eunuch asks, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” Well, there’s quite a bit to prevent him, actually, since religions — Christianity included! — are endlessly creative in throwing up barriers that dissect and divide. But the Gospel seeks to dismantle such barriers, extending its circle beyond the “in-group” to embrace those on the outside, the lost and left-behind. This fundamental idea challenges us to press the question: For our community (and personal lives) today, who are the supposed outsiders, the disenfranchised, the excluded (whether we intend to exclude them or not) — and how can we reach out to them, build bridges with them, learn from them, create a new community with them?

This congregation, of course, has been addressing and responding to that question, along with churches across the nation, for many, many decades. Just yesterday, members from Emory and Trinity Pres Decatur gathered with our Muslim neighbors to assemble food and pajama kits for families staying at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. Last weekend, a group from Emory participated in a walking event to help raise funds for L’Arche Atlanta which creates intentional community between those with and without intellectual disabilities. Both of these events were beautiful instances of abiding or mutual indwelling, in which our love for other human beings and our passion for serving intertwine as the kingdom of God continues to expand. And there are many more illustrations of the abiding ministry that has been done in our backyard and the larger world. 

However, we can’t rest on our laurels. There is always more to do, more ways to help and God doesn’t call the church to have a “one and done” type of ministry. As followers of Christ and believers in the Presbyterian Church (USA) we continually practice the ministry of abiding–love, hospitality, inclusion—in all that we say and do. Therefore, we have to regularly ask ourselves: Who else are we called to reach out to and build bridges with and learn from and grow? Who are the outsiders, the disenfranchised and excluded near us? Who are we neglecting? Who can we share the gospel with and who needs to hear the good news that God in Christ has not forsaken them? How can we create space for all to hear and understand God’s message? How can we create space where outsiders—the lost and humiliated—feel safe and restored by the love of Christ? How can we continue to bear good fruit?

The Rev. Dr. Olivia Mahabir, the writer of the Presbyterian Women curriculum, Sacred Encounters, says that reading scripture, sharing it with others and discerning its meaning gives us the opportunity as churches and Christians to experience how God is moving in the world. She writes:

When the word of God has a central place in our lives, we can discern the will of God for ourselves, our churches, and our communities. The Ethiopian eunuch represents the movement of the early church beyond the villages of Galilee. The breadth, height, and depth of the church expand through the reading and proclamation of the word. 

One of the most wild and fascinating aspects of today’s reading from Acts 8 is that Philip is sent by the Holy Spirit to minister to the Ethiopian eunuch with hardly any details and as soon as the royal officer is baptized, the Spirit literally snatches Philip up and drops him off in another region to proclaim the good news. 

The Spirit has a way of grabbing our hearts and drawing us toward the unknown and unfamiliar, regardless of whether we want to go or not. Once we arrive at the place God wants us to be, we have to be ready to share the gospel and abide in God’s love with the ones who’ve been tossed aside, ignored, and forgotten. By seizing more opportunities to spend time with those who are different from us, i.e. listening to their story and talking about scripture and faith, we nurture the ever-widening kingdom of God. By choosing to abide in God as the Creator, the Redeemer and Sustainer abides in us, we are able to branch out and envelop others with God’s inclusive love.

“Abide in me as I abide in you,” says Jesus. 

May it be so. 

Amen.

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^[1] https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/lectionary-commentary-for-easter-5

^[2] https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/lectionary-commentary-for-easter-5

Pastor note: I re-arranged the first sentence so there was a better flow from when spoken aloud.

Flesh and Bones

A Sermon for Sunday April 14, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Luke 24:36-48

Today marks the third week of Eastertide. There are seven weeks in all; the gospel texts for the first three weeks of the season are resurrection stories, and the next four weeks cover Jesus’ teachings about our relationship with God and neighbor. As one biblical scholar notes: ^[1]

“The implication of this order of readings is that the Easter season isn’t just about this astonishing “wow!” of Jesus’ rising; it’s also—and preeminently—about the equally astonishing invitation for human beings to rise into greater intimacy and life together with God.”

A persistent theme throughout the resurrection stories is how the disciples have difficulty recognizing the risen Jesus and believing that he is alive. In the ancient world (and even today) it was quite common to consider God as an ethereal and abstract being that solely exists on a grand spiritual plane or in a heavenly cosmos that is beyond human sight. ^[2]These resurrection accounts, particularly Jesus’ second appearance in Luke 24, are a reminder to Christians, both then and now, that the Creator in whom we worship is not a distant deity who is disconnected from the realities of human existence.

The resurrected God whom we praise at Easter is a callback to the incarnated God whose birth we celebrate during Christmas. God became human—flesh and bone—and dwelt among us as Christ Jesus who, out of unconditional love and mercy, died a gruesome death and rose from the grave to redeem humanity from its wayward desire to destroy one another and creation. Christmas and Easter are bookends around the illuminating good news that the hopeful promise of God’s just, merciful, and peaceable kingdom is being fulfilled. But the story is not over, it is just beginning. 

“Jesus Appears To The Disciples” by Paul Oman

The purpose of Jesus appearing to the disciples is to reassure them, and every follower since, that God can’t be conquered by death and that God is alive and at work in the world via grace-filled acts of justice, accountability, transformation, restoration, reconciliation, and healing. And God is doing such things through every one of us, each of whom are called to be active participants in the building of God’s beloved community. Author and theologian, Barba J. Essex offers this insight, writing:^[3]

Today’s text brings the work and ministry of Jesus full circle. Luke tells us at the beginning of his Gospel that Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s plan of redemption for all of creation. God transformed a tragic consequence into a new thing—an acquittal and ultimate redemption. The ugliness of crucifixion gave way to the power of resurrection.

Just when we thought the story is over, God had something to say. It has always been about God and continues to be so. Jesus did not launch into explanations about the mechanics of resurrection, nor did he provide an itinerary of his whereabouts since Friday. 

Instead, Jesus taught and commissioned: his whole life, death, and rising were about what God is doing in the world—reconciling the world to God’s self. From the law of Moses to the prophets to the Psalms, it has always been about God and God’s purposes, aims, and agenda for creation— repentance that leads to forgiveness of sins and the wholeness of creation.

God does things God’s way which often means that God reveals God’s self to human beings in unexpected and peculiar fashion. The text from Luke 24 says that the disciples were gathered in Peter’s home discussing the empty tomb when Jesus suddenly appeared in their midst, saying “Peace be with you.”  The disciples, though, don’t respond with “And also with you!”  

They are startled and terrified because they think they’re seeing a ghost. Jesus comforts them by essentially saying: “Hello! Take a good look, it’s me! Look at my hands, look at my feet. I still have skin, which is bruised and battered! You can even see a part of the bone where the nails went into my hands and feet! Would a ghost have flesh and bones?”

The writer of Luke’s gospel says that while the disciples were filled with joy, they were still puzzled about how Jesus’ return in flesh and bone was possible. And that’s when Jesus asks them, “Have you anything here to eat?” Without hesitating, the disciples give Jesus a piece of broiled fish and he immediately eats it in front of them. 

This seems like an odd move on Jesus’ part, particularly since the risen Jesus no longer requires food to sustain himself. It even sounds as if Jesus is merely shifting the topic since the disciples are immersed in wonder and disbelief.  However, Jesus’ partaking in a meal is a living illustration of what occurs next. The writer of Luke’s gospel says:

“These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third dayand that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 

By eating the fish and giving the disciples a refresher on the scriptures that affirm Christ as the fulfillment of God’s promises, Jesus is reminding them of the words he spoke during their last supper before he was arrested and crucified:  they are called to be the body of Christ in the world, as are we—flesh and bone human beings who are faithfully committed to serving the least of these. Jesus seeks to turn the focus to his divine mission which is literally feeding and serving the hungry and broken who are alive and in our midst.

Jesus wants us to recognize wounded people who society dismisses and considers invisible because when we acknowledge the parts of the body of Christ that are damaged, we acknowledge the presence of God in those persons. Jesus wants us to “touch and see,” to connect with one another and to create a beloved community where are all are treated with kindness, dignity, respect, and love. In a time of deep loneliness and isolation, the importance of connecting is more significant now than ever before.

And, as you know, the need for connection and touch was most palpable during the COVID-19 pandemic, and the notion hit me quite powerfully when I visited our former church sexton, Carol Hutton, in early 2021, a few days before she died of cancer. Toward the end of the visit, after praying and saying goodbye, Carol swung her feet off the bed and stretched out her arms. It took me a moment to understand what she was doing before I realized she was offering a hug. 

Aside from my family, it had been a year since I embraced another person, and here was Carol, flesh, and bone, saying through her gesture: “Touch and see. I’m alive and I always will be so in people’s hearts and in the eternal life beyond.”  It was the most glorious hug for my lonely, wounded soul and a sign that through our relationships with others, we recognize one another’s wounds and tend to their healing. 

My own wounds, both physical and emotional, like the scar on my hand that I cut when I was 15 years-old while leaping over a fallen tree as my friend and I ran down a mountain trail in Montreat, North Carolina. Or the split fingernail that occurred because of a carving accident when I was in 4^th grade. Or the fake dimple-scar on my cheek which I received at the age of 5 after falling out of my little green rocker onto the brick fireplace.

Or the deaths of friends or family crises or national tragedies. The wounds are stories that keep me grounded in the reality that we are flesh and bone people with many hurts who not only survive the challenges of life but also thrive despite them. 

The flesh and bone Christ meets us in our wonder, disbelief, and suffering, offering us an opportunity to touch and see and be a part of the goodness of God and God’s kingdom where the impossible becomes possible. 

Amen.

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^[1] https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2018/4/10/faith-and-doubt-salts-lectionary-commentary-for-easter-3

^[2] https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2018/4/10/faith-and-doubt-salts-lectionary-commentary-for-easter-3

^[3]Bartlett, David L.; Taylor, Barbara Brown. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2: Lent through Eastertide (Feasting on the Word: Year B volume). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation.

Wandering Heart: And I Hope

A Sermon for Sunday March 31, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Luke 24:1-12. Easter Sunday

Since February 14, our wandering hearts have been figuring out faith with Peter by studying his journey as one of Christ’s first disciples. Thus far, Peter has dropped his fishing nets, walked on water, professed his faith, been rebuked, had his feet washed, and denied knowing Jesus. At this point in Peter’s story, we might presume that Peter is cowering in shame in the corner of his home and contemplating whether he should leave for another country and start over with a new identity.  

Instead, Peter does something that the other disciples neither do themselves nor expect their friend to do: Peter listens to the women who have seen the empty tomb. He doesn’t dismiss their good news that Jesus is alive! The other disciples, though, don’t believe what the women are saying because, according to the writer of Luke’s gospel, there words seemed to be “an idle tale,” or “nonsense” as another version puts it. The original meaning of the Greek word, though, sounds much worse, for it means “garbage.” 

Thus, when the women share that Jesus has conquered death and risen from the grave out of unconditional love for the world, just as he promised, Jesus’ closest friends reply, “That’s a load of trash.” A harsh reaction, albeit a somewhat understandable one when considering what they’ve experienced over the previous two days. Perhaps they’re unwilling to hear the truth because they are too lost in trauma and grief to comprehend the possibility that Jesus is among the living.

However, Peter—who we would expect to be hurting the most because he lashed out violently during Jesus’ arrest and then later denied his discipleship—^“got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.”

It’s as if Peter was listening to the women and thinking, “Could it be true? They said the tomb is empty and the body is gone. Jesus said this would happen. He never lied to us, and we saw him do the most miraculous things when we traveled from town to town to help people in need. Could it be true?”

As I imagine Peter’s reaction, I can hear the third verse of the hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing and that inspiring phrase, “And I hope.” Peter is driven to the tomb by the stubbornness of hope, which is the wonderful gift of resurrection. Hope reassures us that all is not lost; that the story of God and humanity isn’t over; that God is in control, not earthly rulers; that God’s ways are merciful and just; and that God’s love wins. And hope opens our minds, eyes, and hearts to the practice of wonder—of seeing “resurrection,” the beauty of the Divine in our lives and world.

In a commentary for the Wandering Heart Lenten series, Dr. Karoline Lewis, a preaching professor at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, says the meaning of resurrection can be found in Peter’s wondering as the disciple walks home from the burial site of Jesus, amazed at what he’s witnessed. Lewis writes:

The resurrection only makes sense when we remain amazed, marveling and wondering at the love of God that reversed death itself. We are not asked to explain the resurrection, offer proof for the resurrection, or make a case for the resurrection. … like Peter, we live in wonder—for how belief in the God of resurrection truly can change the world. 

The Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity of A Sanctified Art, the creators of our Lenten series, further notes that:

Our comprehension of the resurrection is not based on cerebral understanding, but on our ability to embrace awe and to let it transform us from the inside out. In what ways are you experiencing resurrection this Easter? How might you be like Peter, “amazed at what had happened”?

When we embrace wonder and mystery and uncertainty, we are then able to receive the good news of resurrection as hope for better days because God’s love is unleashed and cannot ever be contained. When we allow our eyes, minds, and hearts to “get up and run” toward resurrection, we are then able to witness the miraculous and incredible moments that are all around us like:

The first blooms of spring and the red cardinals that appear in the yard,

Sunrises and sunsets, and a night sky full of stars and a glowing moon,

The sound of music being played and choirs singing,

An artist painting a landscape or a sculptor creating a vase out of clay,

The birth of a child and the baby firsts that follow,

Children laughing and playing and learning new things,

A 96 year old grandparent playing with their 6 year old grandchild on the playground.

Teaching a loved one how to cook or dance or play the piano, 

Nature walks, breakfast in a foreign city, flying at 31,000 feet,

Inventions that improve the quality of life and create better futures,

A surprise birthday party that includes friends you haven’t seen in a decade,

The stranger who hands back the wallet you dropped in the store.

The 2-point shot that wins the basketball game with 0.5 seconds remaining.

A cherished pet who leaps over a chair and lands perfectly on the couch, or who sleeps upside down over the edge of a book shelf.

Partnering with the Muslim community to make care packages for families at CHOA.

Overcoming an addiction, finding new purpose in life, getting your dream job,

A backyard full of hundreds of daffodils given by neighbors to a family whose seven-year-old died suddenly of an illness.

These everyday instances of wonder, these mini-resurrections, are not indicators that life is absent of pain, but actual signs that neither suffering or death has the last word. Wonder occurs amid agony. Wonder tells us that God’s goodness is always present, even in the hardest of times, and it is eternally moving us into the light of love. Like the quote from the renown philosopher and author, Ralph Waldo Emerson: “All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.” 

Peter runs to the tomb to see what God in Christ has done and he is struck with awe to discover that the body is gone and all that is left are Jesus’ burial clothes. Lisle Gwynn Garrity’s sister Hannah Garrity depicts Peter’s facial expression at the tomb for her art piece, “Where?”, which is featured on the cover of the bulletin and displayed on the communion table. In her artist statement, she explains:

Painted in ink on paper, Peter’s expression here is inquisitive with a touch of concern. He’s tired, but hopeful. He has just gotten amazing news. Joanna, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James relayed the message and Peter dared to believe it. The prophecy is coming true. 

So many of the things that Jesus foretold have happened over the last few days. The most heavy on Peter’s heart are his repeated denials. Fear took over.  In contrast, now hope and joy begin to bubble up inside. He will see Jesus again! Jesus has overcome death! The prophecies have been fulfilled! Truly, God is in this place. 

As I was imagining my pieces for this series, I immediately saw the emotions of the human experience reflected in Peter’s story. In order to share the energy and perspective of each emotion, I chose to brush ink on paper. On this Easter Sunday, Peter’s face peers through the sketched frame holding both a full expression and tension. Intentionally loose, the brush strokes suggest a face in motion—a glance, the beginnings of joy written in the depths of the eye, the twitch of a smile. Jesus is risen! Peter is here for it!  

Like Peter, we live in the tension of joy and sorrow, and as followers of Christ we live with the awareness that suffering will not completely consume and destroy us. We live in wonder of a God whose love is so powerful that not even the strongest nations on earth can defeat it. We live in wonder of a God whose love resurrects, transforms, redeems, heals, and changes our lives forever. We live with a sparkle in our eye and a slight grin on our face because deep down in our hearts we know something extraordinary is occurring. We live as Easter people who both wander and wonder. And that beloved, is not rubbish, but hope for the ages. Amen.

Wandering Heart: Songs of Loudest Praise

A Sermon for Sunday, March 24, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Palm Sunday. John 12:12-19

Throughout the season of Lent we have been engaging the theme, Wandering Heart: Figuring out faith with Peter. One of Jesus’ most famous disciples, Peter is both a steadfast and unsteady in his discipleship, a friend and betrayer, and a follower and a wanderer—a very normal human trying to understand life and spirituality just like us. 

Let us briefly reflect on Peter’s journey with Jesus thus far: Peter caught an abundance of fish after being instructed to cast his net in deep waters and was then called to drop everything and follow Jesus. Next, Peter walked on water and reached out to Jesus for rescue when he started sinking. Then, he confidently declared his beliefs and was told to get out of Jesus’ way for refusing to believe that Jesus will be killed. He also asked questions about how to practice forgiveness and learned about the expansiveness of God’s grace. 

Now the story takes a most precarious turn as Peter, the other disciples and Jesus enter Jerusalem for their teacher’s final days on earth. Peter, of course, is not mentioned in the Palm Sunday account that Christians across the globe observe today, however he plays a prominent role in the events that unfold at the end of Holy Week. For Palm Sunday, we will have to rely on our creative minds and imagine where Peter might be in the parade and how he is participating in this incredible spectacle. 

Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity, founder of A Sanctified Art, the creators of the Lenten theme, offers an interpretation through her art piece, Then They Remembered, which is featured on the cover of your bulletin and the communion table. She writes:

In the Matthew, Mark, and Luke versions of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, two unnamed disciples follow Jesus’ orders to retrieve a colt. In these accounts, the disciples actively participate in the parade, laying down their cloaks and singing praise. In contrast, John’s version of this story provides minimal details, and the disciples are hardly mentioned at all. However, the text does a unique thing: it breaks the fourth wall to tell us something important: 

“His disciples did not understand these things at first, but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered.”

Is Peter at the parade? Does he lay down his cloak and follow the others? Does he sing songs of loudest praise? Or is he lost in the cacophony of the crowds, confused by and afraid of what is taking place? Maybe he is thinking about the blur of events in the days just before: Lazarus raised from the dead, Jesus anointed in Bethany, the crowds knocking down their doors, the plot to kill Jesus and Lazarus swelling like a darkened, fast-approaching sky. They didn’t understand at first, but then they remembered. 

This image attempts to visualize these two locations in time and space. On the left, Peter looks out from the palm procession—his eyes glazed over as he watches Jesus riding into the city where he will surely meet his death. As the crowds sing “Hosanna!” for a new, soon- to-be-killed-king, the dissonance of the scene causes Peter to tremble—like a guitar string snapped suddenly mid-tune. 

In the top right is Peter’s mirror image. In this mirage, we glimpse the future. Peter stands aghast at the empty tomb, waves of hope and relief rushing through him like a river of grace, the remembering happening all at once—like a childhood song plucked from memory, like the refrain of a chorus that won’t let you go: it’s true, it’s true, thank God it’s true. 

Like Peter, followers of Christ often have a range of emotions during Holy Week. The story whose ending we know and are invited to remember again and again is heavy and intense because opposing forces and ideologies are colliding all in the same place. And people’s behavior also changes completely in a short amount of time.

Jesus, riding from the east, enters Jerusalem on a donkey while the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, arrives to the city from the west, accompanied by an imperial calvary. Jesus’ procession proclaims the peaceable kindom or beloved community of God and Pilate’s proclaims the violent power of empire. 

The crowds who shout “Hosanna!” and acknowledge Jesus will, in six days, shout “Crucify him!” having been convinced by the religious authorities that they have no king but the emperor, Caesar. 

The disciples who have always been by their rabbi’s side will disperse when Jesus is apprehended because they are frightened that Roman soldiers might also capture them. And Peter, the fervent believer who once loudly declared Jesus’ kingship, will deny knowing his friend and mentor because he too is afraid that his fate will be the same as Jesus. 

The excitement of Palm Sunday will turn to fearful, guilt-ridden silence by Good Friday.

As God’s beloved children, we are essentially celebrating the arrival of a Messiah who will save and transform the world not by brute force but by dying a gruesome death on a cross. And perhaps we get so swept up in the pageantry and praise that we temporarily forget that Jesus’s purpose for visiting Jerusalem is not to attend a grand party in his honor. Instead, Jesus comes to the city to be killed—to sacrifice his mind, body, and heart in solidarity with the oppressed, marginalized and hurting people, all of whom live in a world that has become cruel and broken.

Through his dying, the violent, death-wielding authorities are exposed for killing the non-violent and unconditionally loving manifestation of God; and humanity for all of history are liberated from the sin that traps us in selfishness, deceit, and hate. 

The questions we must ask as Jesus approaches his demise are: will we still sing songs of praise from our hearts when the observance of Jesus’ death is upon us? Or will we withdraw into the shadows, terrified of stating our beliefs in Christ and sharing God’s love and grace with those who society deems unworthy? 

Will we stay stuck in grief and misery because it seems as if there is an absence of light and grace around? Or will we find songs of hope that inspire us to persevere, and that give us the energy to help serve people in need and bring justice, healing, and wholeness to despairing communities?

Will we recall seasons in our faith journey where we’ve experienced confusion and uncertainty? Will we find clarity by looking back at those troublesome and painful moments with a fresh perspective? Will we cling to the God who has guided us through previous trials and tribulations and who has provided, and will always provide, us with a greater understanding of ourselves, and our relationships with one another and the Divine. 

Let us find out together as we continue to figure out faith with Peter in the harsh days ahead. Let us be courageous witnesses to the love of God that will challenge and stretch our faith forever, especially in the direst of circumstances.  Let us remember that what seems like the end is the start of something brand new and life-giving. Let us remember. Let us sing. Let us wander.

And all God’s people shouted: Hosanna, amen!

Wandering Heart: Teach Me

A Sermon for Sunday, March 17, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Fifth Sunday in Lent. Matthew 18:15-22.

This week’s story for our Lenten series, Wandering Heart: Figuring out faith with Peter, demonstrates how the disciple is growing in his understanding of God in Christ. Following Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness, Peter asks follow up questions because he is eager to learn more about how to repair conflict in communities. Dr. Terrence Lester, the founder of the Atlanta-based non-profit organization, Love Beyond Walls, provides the following commentary on Matthew 18:15-22:

This story shows the importance of asking questions and expanding our faith, especially when we’re comfortable not having all the answers and we’re open to seeing the world in more nuanced ways.

Jesus’ response to Peter’s question about forgiveness highlights the ambiguous math of grace. Peter learns about abundant grace. It’s about letting go of rigid limits and embracing the limitless possibilities of forgiveness and repair. … Jesus’ teachings remind us of the power of forgiveness to make the community whole.

Peter’s encounter with Jesus serves as a poignant reminder of the profound lessons embedded in forgiveness. Forgiveness is a boundless wellspring of grace. Repair is vital, both within ourselves and in our relationships with others. 

This story encourages us to embrace the transformative power of forgiveness and work toward reconciliation and healing. It inspires us to open ourselves to the expansive grace of God. By doing so, we can create a world where forgiveness mends what is broken, and where the beauty of repair shines through, illuminating our shared humanity.

Embracing the transformative power of forgiveness, working toward reconciliation and healing, being open to God’s expansive grace and creating a world where forgiveness and repair reveals our shared humanity and strengthens the community is vital now more than ever.  

While human beings have been hell-bent on vengeance since the beginning of time, a thirst for retribution in the U.S. and across the globe seems to be at an all-time high. Political strongmen and wannabe dictators stoke the fires of revenge on a daily basis, stirring up their millions of followers with fantasies of bloody retaliation. Perhaps the ideologies of the ancient religious leaders and the Roman Empire still have quite hold on many today—a significant thing to consider during a season in which Christians observe how Jesus was executed for teaching about God’s immeasurable love and claiming that God’s authority was mightier than Caesar’s.

Jesus’ response to Peter is for us as well if we are to follow Christ’s ways and serve in Christ’s name. 

Forgiveness is a radical act that we commit ourselves to doing for our entire lives. Forgiveness is an ongoing process where each of us has to humbly look within ourselves and into the heart of the person who has wronged us with the belief that despite one’s flaws and mistakes, we’re all beloved children of God who are meant for goodness.  Forgiveness is how we attempt to live a grace-filled life, avoiding the temptation to walk the wayward path of vengeance and violence.

We are to forgive abundantly with the same fervor as God who unconditionally forgives us for a lifetime of instances when we turned away from God’s love to hurt our neighbors and creation. As such, forgiveness is a sacred balm that must be handled with utmost care and not misused to avoid accountability for destroying other people’s lives. 

Forgiveness doesn’t mean we justify our egregious errors, and gloss over someone’s misdeeds, doling out the quick and cheap—slap-on-the-wrist—grace that is not of God but of human fear. God’s gift of that deeply abiding, amazing grace, gives us an opportunity to accept accountability for our actions, and to hold others accountable for their wrongs, so that justice is brought to the victimized and that the wrong-doer may re-discover God’s grace is for them too.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean that we have to forgive those who are abusing or have abused us (physically, verbally, emotionally, mentally or sexually). God’s gift of grace doesn’t necessitate that we remain in abusive relationships and violent, or even potentially violent, situations. It should never be mistaken for compliance or obedience to toxic, narcissistic behavior.

Forgiveness does mean that we must put in the effort to learn how to forgive ourselves, without judgment or time limits. Forgiveness does mean that we must let go of the bitterness and hatred, all so that we may each be the person whom God created and calls beloved. As the late Archbishop Desmond Tutu writes in the 2004 book God Has A Dream…

“Forgiveness gives us the capacity to make a new start. That is the power, the rationale, of confession, and forgiveness. It is to say, ‘I have fallen but I am not going to remain there, Please forgive me.’ And forgiveness is the grace by which you enable the other person to get up, and get up with dignity, to begin anew. Not to forgive leads to bitterness and hatred, which, just like self-hatred and self-contempt, gnaw away at the vitals of one’s being. Whether hatred is projected out or projected in, it is always corrosive of the human spirit.”

Forgiveness is about blocking out the critical and negative voices in your head so you can love yourself just as God made you, embracing the eternal truth that God loves you to infinity and beyond. The renowned author and theologian, Rabbi Harold Kushner, once told this story as an example:¹

“A woman in my congregation comes to see me. She is a single mother, divorced, working to support herself and three young children. She says to me, “Since my husband walked out on us, every month is a struggle to pay our bills. I have to tell my kids we have no money to go to the movies, while he’s living it up with his new wife in another state. How can you tell me to forgive him?’ I answer her, “I’m not asking you to forgive him because what he did was acceptable. It wasn’t; it was mean and selfish. I’m asking you to forgive because he doesn’t deserve the power to live in your head and turn you into a bitter angry woman. I’d like to see him out of your life emotionally as completely as he is out of it physically, but you keep holding on to him. You’re not hurting him by holding on to that resentment, but you’re hurting yourself.”“

What would it look like if we sought to repair hurts within a community and practiced forgiveness as if it was a dance toward restoration and healing? What would it look like in our neighborhoods, churches, schools, state, nation and world if we learned a new way of being in community? What would it look like if we did the hard work of repairing relationships that are broken? The Rev. Lauren Wright Pitman, a member of A Sanctified Art, which created the Lenten theme, offers an artistic interpretation with her piece, Seventy-seven Times, which is featured on the cover of your bulletin and displayed on the communion table:

Seventy-seven Times by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman

When I’m creating a mandala inspired by a text, I’m able to zoom out and see the bigger picture, and the image itself ends up looking like a bird’s eye view, which I think is a helpful perspective sometimes. In this mandala, I wanted to follow a person through the process of reproval, forgiveness, reconciliation, and restoration as Jesus describes… In the center, a person is standing alone, isolated, with their arms crossed in a closed-off posture. If you’re sinned against, Jesus says to go and “point out the fault when the two of you are alone” 

When you move to the second ring of the mandala, there are pairs of people shaking hands, finding common ground, or at least attempting to. If this doesn’t work, then you are to bring more people (one or two more) together to provide counsel and witness. 

In the third ring of the mandala, two people are engaging with the closed-off person, sharing a way forward. In the next ring hyacinth flowers—which represent sorrow, regret, and forgiveness—stretch, bloom, and grow, bringing beauty into the now open arms of the people in the last ring of the mandala, who are embraced and woven into the community. The person from the center goes from being alone and closed-off to embraced and open.

When I was drawing the figures from the center out, it began to look like a dance. Is this the picture that grace paints? Forgiveness cannot happen in isolation and certainly neither can reconciliation nor restoration. The movement toward wholeness is the movement toward one another. …

This piece contains seventy-seven people and flowers to represent the abundance of grace that Jesus calls us into. The gold represents the divine presence of empathy, compassion, grace, and love throughout this dance from isolation toward community, from brokenness toward wholeness, and from guilt and shame toward freedom.

Beloved, as you enter into this fifth week of Lent, nearing closer to Jerusalem with Peter (and Jesus), let us seize the opportunity to learn and participate in the complex dance of forgiveness instead of becoming part of a mob of vengeance. There will be twists and turns, dips and falls, and stepped on toes. However, in the end we will dance toward liberation and wholeness, oblivious to those who stew on the sidelines in their anger and hate. 

Although, God’s grace will also teach them how to dance too.

Amen.

1.  Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Feasting on the Word: Year A volume) . Presbyterian Publishing Corporation.  ↩︎

Wandering Heart: I’m Fixed Upon It

A Sermon for Sunday March 10, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. The Fourth Sunday in Lent. Matthew 16:21-23.

On this Fourth Sunday in Lent we continue our exploration of this season’s theme: Wandering Heart: Figuring out faith with Peter. Today’s text is one that is uncomfortable, and perhaps even shocking, to hear. 

As we learned last week, Jesus has just praised Peter as the rock of the church and is now explaining to the disciples that he must go to Jerusalem to undergo suffering and death at the hands of the religious authorities, and that he will be raised from the dead three days later. 

James Tissot (1836-1902), “Get Behind Me, Satan”

The news upsets Peter who refuses to believe that Jesus will walk the hard patch of suffering, crucifixion and resurrection. Peter’s stubbornness prompts Jesus to issue a strong rebuke:  “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me, for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

The team of pastors and artists at A Sanctified Art, the creators of our Lenten series, write:

When your world unravels and your beliefs are tested, you may cling to what you know. As Jesus foretells his death and resurrection, Peter protests. Peter is fixed upon the way he thinks things should go; he resists the pain of what will come. But Jesus is fixed upon his calling and calls Peter out. 

For everyone, there comes a time when your faith is tested, and you will have to face difficult and inconvenient truths. We may want to take the easier path, the path with less pain. We may want to cling to easy or simplistic answers. Instead, what does it look like to welcome complexity? Can you stay fixed upon your convictions while also expanding your perspective? 

There are a few texts many preachers dread, and this might be one of them. To go from Jesus praising Peter as the rock of the church to declaring, “Get behind me, Satan!” certainly feels like whiplash. One idea that surfaced in our theme-planning discussions is how this interaction between Jesus and Peter shows us the intimacy and trust that they shared. Jesus rebukes Peter because he loves him deeply, and because he has high expectations for him as the “rock” of the church. Perhaps we are even witnessing Jesus’ grief as he declares, “Get behind me.” 

Suffering (and grief and death) is ingrained in the human condition; it is a significant part of reality that can never be avoided in one’s lifetime. Yet it is also in the midst of suffering that we root ourselves in the love of Christ who accompanies us on our worst days, and who brings comfort and healing when we are in agony. Suffering makes acts of love, kindness and mercy all the more important because it is those gifts of God that help us get through trying times. To borrow a saying from a popular TV show, “What is grief if not love persevering.” ^[1]

The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu once wrote: ^[2]

“In the universe we inhabit, there will always be suffering. Suffering is often how we grow, especially how we grow emotionally, spiritually and morally. That is, when we let the suffering ennoble us and not embitter us.

Some people choose to isolate themselves from the outside world out of fear that they will be hurt again or that something devastating will occur if they walk out the door. Other folks attempt to control how much suffering will occur through an over-abundance of safety measures that can suck the joy out of life. And then there are those who choose to ignore the existence of suffering so that they are not encumbered by the pain and grief. Simply put, humans—myself included—occasionally fix our mind on human things—on ways to avoid suffering of any kind—instead of the things God is doing to transform a broken world with unwavering love. We fret so much about the potential for suffering and how to keep it at bay that we forget to fix our hearts on serving and taking care of those who are hurting.

Dr. Terrence Lester, the founder of the Atlanta-based organization, Love Beyond Walls, who has provided biblical commentaries for the Wandering Heart theme says that Jesus’ rebuke of Peter is a “sharp reminder that sometimes our well-intentioned desires to protect and preserve can become stumbling blocks to fulfilling our calling. He then goes on to say:

 Faith doesn’t always shield us from hardship. As we reflect on Peter’s journey and the challenges of our own faith, let us remember that unraveling can lead to profound growth. Like Peter, we may have to face inconvenient truths and drop our preconceived notions. Jesus’ response to Peter reminds us of the importance of our commitment to God’s mission, even when it’s difficult. …

Sometimes, it is by leaning into grief that we begin the journey of healing in our own lives and in our relationship with God. This is because grief isn’t about fixing what has happened as much as it is about learning new ways to navigate the realities that cause us to feel disoriented. 

The reality is that Jesus was gruesomely executed by rulers who felt threatened by Jesus’ revolution of love and peace, and Jesus was raised from the dead three days later. But as much as we’d like to, we can’t just jump immediately into Easter Sunday. We have to first to endure hardship—or in the very least witness the suffering Jesus endures—before we can reach the celebratory part of the story.  It is only by pushing through the messiness that we can come to appreciate the transforming and healing power of resurrection in our lives and world. 

Understandably, it is disorienting and unsettling to think about Jesus’ suffering and death or any person’s for that matter. I would like to assure you that suffering, and death won’t occur and that you won’t have to experience heartache. But I can’t. Are there practices we can implement that make people’s health better and that curb accidents, injuries and catastrophes from occurring? Yes. It is our calling as Christ followers to serve those in need and to advocate for policies that positively benefit people and their communities. However, we can’t prevent or avoid suffering completely. It’s still going to happen, mostly because it’s beyond our control.

We certainly don’t want to go through periods of suffering or see others in pain, and yet we have to navigate the despair so that we can keep on living and striving to help build God’s beloved community and fashion a better world. 

Let us fix our minds on the ways of an unconditionally merciful God, trusting that Christ’s love will provide healing and new direction when suffering occurs.  Let us also fix our eyes and hearts on the hurting, choosing to walk with them as living reflections of the triune God who intimately understands grief and loss, and who will never let anyone suffer alone.

And all God’s people say: amen.

---

^[1] Disney and Marvel’s Wandavision, Disney Plus Streaming Service, 2021

^[2] God Has A Dream: A Vision of Hope for Our Time by Desmond Tutu, Doubleday Publishing. 2006.

Wandering Heart: Praise the Mount

A Sermon for Sunday March 3, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Third Sunday of Lent. Matthew 16:13-20

Over the weekend, I received a Facebook notification that my friend Stacey and I had been connected on Facebook for 17 years! That alone is remarkable, but then I realized that we’ve known each other in real life for nearly twice as long, 32 years. 

The people who are part of our lives is such an incredible gift. They help us do life together, to make the trek—through all of the ups and downs, and from here to there—toward hope, imagination, joy, servanthood, mercy and love. All the credit belongs to God who has placed some incredible folks on my path who have been part of some of the most memorable experiences of my faith journey, like Stacey.

In the summer of 1993, before the start of my senior year in high school in Birmingham, Alabama, my parents went through a contentious and messy divorce that left me in a deep funk. I spent many days doing nothing more than watching TV and reading comic books as a distraction from the chaos. 

One afternoon, the doorbell rang and when I opened the door, Stacey and another friend, Kathy, both of whom were friends from our Presbyterian church youth group, were standing on the front steps, grinning from ear to ear. Before I could greet them and ask why they showed up unexpectedly, they excitedly burst out:  “It’s a beautiful day and we’re going to the lake at Oak Mountain State Park and you’re coming with us. Grab your towel and bathing suit!”

A half hour later, we were swimming and laughing and splashing around as the warm sun sparkled across the water. We never talked about the storm that was swirling around my family. Comforting words and advice weren’t necessary. Their love and care for me was evident in how they reached out to me when I felt like I was drowning at home. And it is one of many times when my heart has swelled with gratitude and praise, echoing the first verse of Robert Robinson’s beloved 1758 hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, which we sang earlier:

Come, thou Fount of every blessing;
tune my heart to sing thy grace;
streams of mercy, never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above;
praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
mount of God’s unchanging love!

The creators of this year’s Lenten theme, Wandering Heart: Figuring out faith with Peter, write:

Who Do You Say That I Am by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman, A Sanctified Art, LLC

“Praise the mount of God’s unchanging love. . . ” This lyric represents Peter’s mountaintop faith moment. It speaks to spiritual euphoria and feeling the closeness of God. In this story, Peter proclaims who Jesus is. He speaks with conviction. Peter claims his faith. If you had to speak your faith in one sentence or phrase, what would you say? When we have the courage to say, “This, I believe…” then that conviction has a ripple effect on others. When life gets rocky, we lean on mountaintop moments and our deepest convictions to see us through. 

Jesus builds the church on the rock of Peter’s faith.  We might imagine Jesus is singing the line “praise the mount” to Peter, encouraging him at this moment. Jesus affirms who he believes Peter to be, just as Peter proclaims Jesus as the Christ. When things get “rocky,” Peter will lean on this memory for solid ground, and to remember his calling. The names and affirmations we receive can shape our identity and self-worth, as well as our callings. 

It’s the “mountaintop” moments of faith, the joy-filled acts of worship, study, prayer, fellowship and service that shape our identity as human beings and children of God who forever belong to the Divine. I often  refer to spiritual euphoria as witnessing what is occurring in the thin places of life—experiences that stir you deeply in your soul and forms a core memory in your story because it is impossible to tell where earth ends, and heaven begins. It’s a peek beyond the veil between this mortal life and the eternal one that is here and not yet. These holy and cherished memories are what give us mooring when things in our personal lives are falling apart while a fractured world weighs heavy on everyone. 

I have so many memories that have formed the bedrock of my faith, which is always growing and expanding and learning something new. I know you have them too, and I encourage you, either this afternoon or sometime this week, to write down or record those heartening experiences where something extraordinary made your heart sing, particularly if it happened on a horrific day or following a series of stressful months. For now, consider some stories that we have shared these last five years since I became your pastor:

Baptisms, confirming 8^th graders as church members, welcoming new adult members and visitors, ordaining and installing five elder classes; goodbye and welcome parties for staff; an incredible seminary intern; collecting shoes for The Soul Project which supplies footwear to children in the poorest nations. Online fellowship and worship during the pandemic, sometimes praising God together with Trinity Presbyterian Decatur or Druid Hills Presbyterian or L’Arche Atlanta. Ringing a handbell in honor of the 100,000 who had lost their lives to COVID-19. 

The Black Lives Matter Protests and the anti-racism book discussions. The array of people we met, the affirming words and stories that people of color shared with us, the supportive honking of horns, peace signs and protests fists—each day of the year and half we spent on the church’s front lawn facing North Decatur Road—was a story to tell and behold of God’s goodness in the very worst of circumstances. 

The outdoor Pentecost worship service we had in summer of 2021, where everyone gathered for a prayer around graduated high school senior Elizabeth Hughes—five feet apart, but connected by strips of red, yellow and orange fabric which represented the inspirational and compassionate fire of the Spirit. The 20^th Anniversary of 9/11 memorial that Karen made for the communion table with paper doves tied to chicken wire that was surrounded by rubble, parts of which were adorned with lit tea candles. Dorothy and Deedra introducing American Sign Language in worship services: The Lord’s Prayer, “Thanks be to God,” and The Peace. 

Nearly all the women of the church, including staff, and…me assembling home kits for Afghan refugees. The Ukrainian Prayer Vigil and Concert featuring the gifts of Decatur-area church choirs including Emory Presbyterian. Partnering with our Muslim neighbors to make care packages for families at CHOA. 

Wedding Showers. Weddings. Communion. Visits to Hospitals and Memorial Services. The Blessing of the Animals. Afternoon concerts. Breakfasts, picnic lunches, and late Sunday afternoon garden parties, and Saturday movie nights in Fellowship Hall. Bible study, Sunday classes, prayer groups, the recent Grief Support Group that Anna Young led during the Advent and Christmas Seasons. The growing relationship with Trinity Presbyterian Decatur and the blessing that their lives and ministry has been as we sought to partner together to both worship and serve God and commit to treating all people with dignity. The pure delight of watching the kids at The Spanish Academy Pre-school play in the outdoor sanctuary or a corner of Fellowship Hall. The exchange of comforting, supportive and hysterical text messages and Facebook posts and emails. Profound and heartfelt conversations in the Presbyterian Women’s Circles and the Men’s Breakfast Group. The Haiti Eco Village Fundraising Dinner. 

The list of stories, memories and “mountain top” moments of faith is endless, and each and every one is a blessing because they demonstrate God’s unchanging love. And these sacred stories tether us together and weave us into a magnificent web of connection that goes beyond these walls. It is quite amazing when you think about it. In each of those moments, both lived and told, we claim, like Peter that Jesus is the Messiah who brings healing and wholeness to the weary, the hurting and the lost. In his commentary on Peter’s confession of faith, Dr. Terrence Lester reminds us that:

Peter’s confession is a reminder that faith is not stagnant but dynamic. It’s a “mountaintop faith” experience, a moment of clarity, when we profess our devotion to God and acknowledge who God is in our lives.

 It’s a declaration that God is near, guiding us along the path of revelation. Let us reflect on our own spiritual journeys and consider the seeds of revelation in our lives. They shape our understanding of God and draw us closer to God.

 Let us echo Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of the living God. May our journeys be marked by the continuous growth of these seeds of revelation, leading to an unwavering devotion to our Heavenly Father. Just as Jesus affirmed Peter’s confession, may we find affirmation in our faith, as God sees the best version of ourselves and continues to plant the seeds of revelation. 

The Americana group, Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors put it this way in their newly released song, Find Your People:

You gotta find your people
The ones that make you feel alright
The kind you want to stay up with all night

You got to find your people
The ones that make you feel whole
That won’t leave your side when you lose control
The ones that don’t let you lose your soul

You gotta find your people
The ones that get the joke
Who understand what you’re saying before a word is spoke

You gotta find your people
That put the needle in the groove
When you’re together, you got nothing to prove
When you’re together, you got nothing to lose …

You gotta find your people
That’ll call your bluff
Who’ll ride along when the road is rough

You gotta find your people
The ones that you feel equal
They pick you up and don’t put you down
Help you find your way in the lost and found

In a world of strangers, you don’t know who to trust
All you see is danger, tryna find what you lost
You can’t go in alone, everybody needs help
You gotta find your people, then you’ll find yourself

The ones that understand you
The ones that lend a hand to you
The ones that don’t demand anything from you

You gotta  find your people
The ones that make you feel alright
That tell you the truth, then wish you well
You gotta find your people, then you’ll find yourself

Praise the mount of unchanging love that we find ourselves in the stories of people—within and beyond the walls of this church—who shape our faith so that we can feel the presence of the living, triune God. May those memories always be close by so that we can grab ahold of them when the ground is shaky, and we temporarily forget who we are and who we’re called to be. Remember your people and the love of God that couldn’t be contained neither in the heart or a room full of them. 

And all of God’s people say: Amen

Wandering Heart: Rescue Me From Danger

A Sermon for Sunday February 25, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. Second Sunday in Lent. Mark 14:22-33

Our world is heavy with much sorrow and pain these days. I feel it deeply in my bones as I’m sure many of you do: 

the war in Ukraine where the Ukrainian people are valiantly defending their country from their Russian invaders; 

the death of Alexei Navalny who courageously opposed the horrific regime of Russia’s dictator, Vladimir Putin; 

the war between Israel and the terrorist group Hamas which is decimating the entirety of Gaza; 

the fatal bullying of a non-binary teen in Oklahoma; 

the Alabama Supreme Court denying women and families access to reproductive treatments; 

a presidential candidate who praises Putin, threatens NATO, lies incessantly and constantly makes racist and sexist remarks;

and a political party that is trying to push the nation toward a theocracy. 

All of these crises hit hard on a personal level because each of us know someone from Ukraine or someone who is Jewish or Muslim or someone who is gay, non-binary or trans, or couples who struggle to have children or the marginalized and oppressed who are always hurt the most by unjust policies.

Toss in the challenges we face as individuals—whether it be related to health, home, work, school or relationships—and it feels like we are drowning in the raging storms of hate, violence and tyranny. Even as people of faith who believe God’s justice, peace, mercy and love is at work among us, there can still be doubt in our minds as to whether we or humanity will see a future with hope. 

The folks at A Sanctified Art, who created this year’s Lenten series, Wandering Heart: Figuring out faith with Peter, affirm this reality of life and faith:

We will inevitably face many emotional, relational, professional, physical, and global dangers. The lyric for this week names the desperation we feel when these dangers are imminent. It also acknowledges all who may be offering this prayer as a desperate plea—all who are in need of rescue. … We recognize the bold courage required to take a leap of faith—or to willingly step into a storm. We see doubt as a normal and important element in fostering a healthy spiritual life. We also see Jesus extending his hand, reminding us that God is with us in every storm.

Let’s take a look at the story from Matthew’s gospel:

“Lift Off” by Rev. Nicolette Peñaranda

After feeding a crowd of more than five thousand with a few fish and loaves of bread, Jesus tells the disciples to take a boat to the other side of the Sea of Galilee while he takes time to pray in solitude. Later that evening, a storm descends upon the disciples and the boat is battered by the wind and the waves. Early the next morning, Jesus walks toward them on the sea, but his friends are terrified, thinking he’s a ghost because they’ve never seen anyone walk on water. Jesus immediately calms their fears, saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter, recognizing its Jesus, then asks his teacher to invite him to walk out on the water. 

Jesus says, “Come,” and Peter, without hesitation, gets out of the boat and walks on the water toward Jesus. But a strong wind blows by, nearly knocking Peter over, and the disciple gets scared and starts to sink. As he disappears into the water, Peter yells, “Lord, save me!” Jesus urgently reaches out his hand and catches Peter by the arm, saying, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

As I’ve said before in a sermon on this text, it is quite common to have doubts when we have to confront precarious situations, or drastic, and often unforeseen, changes in life. Doubting is normal and healthy, allowing us to discern the best choice to make when faced with a challenge and to avoid situations that are fraught with extreme danger. Like the Presbyterian theologian, Frederick Buechner, once said: “Doubt is the ants-in-the-pants of faith. They keep it alive and moving.”

So, when Jesus says to Peter, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” he’s not scolding his disciple for having a weak faith. Like a parent comforting a frightened child, Jesus eases Peter’s fear by reminding him that even with a small amount of faith, he doesn’t ever have to worry about God abandoning him. Jesus reminds the disciples and us that we don’t have to be imprisoned by paralyzing fear and doubt that causes us to sink into oblivion. (In fact, three chapters later in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus says that even a mustard seed of faith can accomplish enormous tasks.)

In his biblical commentaries for the Wandering Heart series, Dr. Terrence Lester writes:

Jesus is the Rescuer. …  God is near, not simply because we have doubted, but because we have had the faith to get out of the boat and start walking at the command of Jesus. I believe that God honors us and meets us in our lowest places. We can find hope and salvation, cry out to the Lord, as Peter did, and discover that Jesus has more faith in us than we have in ourselves. Peter’s cry, “Lord, save me!” is an acknowledgment of need. What happens next is a beautiful revelation of our Savior’s heart—rescue, not shame and guilt.

Peter’s encounter with Jesus on the water demonstrates not only the disciple’s courage to step out of the boat but also his vulnerability in doing so. Each of us has that human tendency to scoff at someone’s offer of rescue. We say things like: “No, I’m good. I’ll figure out,” or “I don’t want to burden you with my problems. I’ll come up with a solid plan and have it fixed tomorrow,” or “I’m a grown, capable adult. I don’t need rescuing.”

Sure, no one likes to have their hand held or be micro-managed or feel someone hovering over them with worry. But more often than not, we do need help. When we are at our lowest, when we are feeling stressed out, exhausted and overwhelmed, we need a hand. And it’s ok to ask for one. It’s ok to be vulnerable enough to realize that there are times when you can’t make it alone and you need someone to rescue you from drowning in despair. The Rev. Sarah Speed of A Sanctified Art brings that truth into focus with her poem entitled, Rescue Me:

I’d rather not need rescue.

I’d prefer a five-step plan and a quick-fix solution.

I’d prefer stubborn insistence over honest vulnerability, 

because rescue requires asking for help. 

Rescue names the rising water. 

Rescue sees the tired, treading feet. 

Rescue feels the swell of the wind and the rain at a slant.

But when the floor falls out and the world is on fire
and my small hands cannot fix the hurt welling in me, 

the prayer that slips out is rescue, rescue , rescue me. 

That rescuing hand of Christ manifest itself in a variety of ways in our lives: 

the unexpected text from a friend asking how you are doing while you’re crying over a lousy situation that has caused a lot of pain; 

the family member who gives you a hug and tells you all will be well and offers wisdom and assistance when you are at your wit’s end; 

the neighbor who takes you to the hospital when you’re having a health emergency;

the child who pulls you, the parent, outside to play when you are having a bad day and are questioning your worth; 

the stranger who picks up you and the groceries you spilled all over the ground when you accidentally tripped and fell; 

the church that courageously steps out of its comfort zone to tend to the needs of those who are hurting and stands alongside the disenfranchised who are seeking equality, fairness and dignity for themselves and their communities. 

God places people in our lives because we can’t do this life alone. We need one another to navigate the storms and get to the other side. Helping, rescuing hands are always there waiting for us when we are sinking. We are never alone. “May we, says Dr. Lester, “have the courage to step out in faith, trusting in God’s power and ability to rescue—not focusing on our doubts and fears, but on our courage to walk toward God.”

Amen.

Wandering Heart: Jesus Sought Me

A Sermon for Sunday, February 18, 2024. Emory Presbyterian Church. The First Sunday in Lent. Psalm 25:1-10 and Luke 5:1-11

Over the next seven Sundays in this season of Lent, we will be focusing on the theme, Wandering Heart: Figuring out faith with Peter, created by the wonderfully gifted team of artists and pastors at A Sanctified Art.

The theme is based on the life and faith of Jesus’ most famous disciple and the treasured 18^th century hymn, Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing. The creators of the theme explain:

“In Peter, we see a person who is both steadfast and unsteady, a dear friend and a betrayer, a follower and a wanderer. In Peter, we often see ourselves. By following Peter’s journey, we watch the story of Jesus unfold through the eyes of a very normal human trying to figure it all out—just like us. As we were studying Peter’s faith journey, the lyrics of “Come Thou Fount” came to mind. It’s as if Peter himself wrote this song. Like many of us, Peter has a wandering heart. His journey is not polished, or linear, or perfect, but he is always tethered to the love of God. 

In this series, we want to affirm that faith is a constant journey of steadfast pursuit, one that ebbs and flows. We want to affirm the ways Peter keeps going: he drops his nets, he walks on water, he runs to the empty tomb, he swims to the shore to meet the risen Christ. He keeps searching and yearning and loving, even after missteps or mistakes. Ultimately, in Peter’s story, we are reminded that God loves imperfect people—in fact, time and again, that’s precisely who God claims and calls.”

Each week we will ponder a piece of Peter’s story and its connection to a verse from Come Thou Fount, always listening to what God is saying to us, and also opening our minds and hearts to what God is doing in and through our lives through the power of love and grace. I am particularly excited about this theme because the hymn has special meaning in my life.

Team Ebeneezer at The 2015 Montreat Youth Conference, Montreat Conference Center, Black Mountain, NC

 I have a close group of friends, some whom I’ve known for more than a decade and others whom I’ve had ties since I was 21. We are forever bonded through either our experiences in Presbyterian youth ministry in Birmingham, Alabama or the Montreat Conference Center in Black Mountain, North Carolina, or both.  We fondly refer to our group as Team Ebeneezer because a) we all cherish the hymn and b) one friend has a love-hate relationship with the word “Ebeneezer” and the verse, “Here I raise my Ebeneezer, hither by thy help I come.” 

We actually began requesting the hymn be played at the Middle School Youth Conferences as a way of gently teasing our friend Joan, however it quickly became our cherished theme song—a constant reminder that we are tethered to one another and God, even when we find ourselves lost and our hearts wandering. Whenever one of us hears the hymn at a conference or in worship, we immediately record the singing on our smart phones or take a picture of the hymn title printed in the bulletin and share in our text messaging group. 

Every time we receive a message about Come Thou Fount, it gives us goose bumps; brings a smile to our faces; and elicits a few tears of joy and gratitude for lasting friendships and a God who loves us fiercely from cradle to grave and beyond.  There is much comfort in realizing and accepting that God in Christ continually seeks us out and calls us to be part of God’s kingdom building in the world. Although, to be fair, God’s desire to be part of our lives can initially feel daunting, just as it was for Peter. But before we delve into Peter’s response to Jesus seeking him and others to be his disciples from this morning’s reading from Luke’s gospel, let’s consider Peter’s background. 

Peter was a commercial fisherman who conducted his trade in Galilee and his business partners were his brother Andrew and his friends, James and John, the sons of Zebedee. Peter presumably spoke Aramaic and Greek and was heavily influenced in the culture by both Judaism and Hellenism, the latter of which centered on the worship of the Greek gods of Olympus. And Peter’s blue collar fishing business was under the oppressive rule of the Roman Empire who imposed harsh and unfair fees and taxes. 

With these background details, Peter’s reaction to the over abundant catch of fish, provided by Jesus, can be heard anew. After hauling in the nets bursting with fish, Luke’s gospel says: 

“So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’s knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were astounded at the catch of fish that they had taken.”

There are numerous interpretations as to what motivates Peter to offer such a self-deprecating rebuttal. The scripture simply says it was because Peter and Andrew and James and John were astounded by the miraculous catch of fish. For Peter, there seems to be much more going on based on the precise words he uses, otherwise he would’ve just said, “wow!” 

“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” Peter’s declaration indicates many things about what Peter is feeling and thinking: “Who, me?” I’m a lowly human being, why do I deserve such a bounty of fish? My father-in-law who has been working much longer and harder in the trade than I, a good and faithful man, has never received more than two handfuls of fish. I’m not worthy of this blessing. I will just cause more trouble. You’ve got the wrong person. ”

Have you ever thought you were unworthy of a new calling, a vocation, or an abundance of mercy? Have you ever had imposter syndrome and felt like that someone made the wrong decision in choosing you. 

I remember that feeling of inadequacy vividly because it has happened every time I have been called to be a pastor or asked to serve on various committees and planning teams in The Presbytery of Greater Atlanta or The PC(USA) over the last 25 years.  To be completely honest, I feel that way whenever someone asks me to officiate their wedding or funeral. For a couple of minutes I think: “Are you sure? Me? You trust me to be a part of this, and do this, and not mess it up?” 

Have you ever had similar thoughts and feelings?

If you haven’t caught yourself asking the question on a personal level, do you ever wonder why God would choose human beings to love and serve, after all of the nasty, awful, horrific acts the species has committed against God and creation since the dawn of time?

That’s a testament to Christ’s love and grace. As terrible as we are to one another and this planet—both precious and finite gifts from God—Christ loves us unconditionally and still chooses us over and over and over and over to do God’s work. Jesus seeks us ought relentlessly. So, who are we to question that we aren’t worthy of being chosen to shine our unique lights into the gloom of another’s pain? God made each of us in God’s image and proclaimed that we are holy. Jesus sees that we are as precious as the stars in the night or grains of sand on the ocean shore. God in Christ deems us worthy to be called and worthy to journey forward, humbly and graciously—in spite of our flaws and mistakes—for the purpose of seeking out those who need to be enveloped by love. 

While astounding and challenging, we, like Peter, have to accept that God loves us and asks us to use our gifts to help fashion the beloved community.  Like Peter, we must let the sound of the call flow through us like a river—an image that Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity of A Sanctified Art depicts beautifully on the covers of the worship bulletins. Of her art piece, Lisle writes:

River of Grace by Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity, A Sanctified Art, LLC 2024

In this image, the bursting nets transform into a river of grace meandering through the composition of Peter’s life. The river pours into Peter’s hands, but he can’t quite grasp the fullness of this gift and calling quite yet, and so most of it rushes right by. As you will see in my other pieces for this series, this river of grace will wander alongside Peter throughout his life. 

The river represents how his journey with Christ begins and ends: with an abundant catch of fish. He is forever tethered to the overflowing love of God. The river is a symbol of Peter’s gifts, as God uses what Peter knows how to do well (being a fisher of fish) and invites him to apply his skills to a new calling (being a fisher of people). It’s a visible reminder of the ways God’s grace bends and turns and rushes to find each of our wandering hearts. 

Despite Peter’s resistance, grace seeks him out. His right thumb gets caught in the net. He can’t escape the fact that God’s goodness and mercy will pursue him all the days of his life (Psalm 23:6). The river rushes in. The question for Peter—and for each of us—is will he follow where it leads? 

Where will it lead, and will we follow? What will happen when we arrive? Dr. Terrence Lester who contributed sermon planning materials as part of the Wandering Heart series, offers this perspective on the questions I’ve posed. He writes:

I lead a nonprofit named Love Beyond Walls (in Atlanta) that advocates for the unhoused. During COVID-19, Demetri— whose name is forever etched in my memory—walked into our center. He was a community member and friend, but he seemed different. We asked what was on his mind, and he replied, “I believe I’m going to die because I have nowhere to wash my hands. How am I supposed to wash my hands when I don’t have anywhere to go?” 

His words showed the harsh reality for those experiencing homelessness: over half a million people held the same fear. COVID-19 was an awakening to the longstanding disparities within society. The term “social distancing” was jarring for people who had long known social distancing. 

Demetri’s story fueled a national campaign we called “Love Sinks In” to provide handwashing access for those without it, enabling us to connect more deeply and stand with our community. As others focused on hand hygiene and quarantine, we provided basic sanitation for those experiencing homelessness. 

Many debated toilet paper and confinement; we stood with individuals without soap, water, or shelter. Just as Jesus sought out the Galilean fishermen, we sought out people suffering on the streets. … 

Peter had a wandering heart. Jesus was always there to catch Peter, to walk beside him, to wash his feet, and to offer love. In Peter’s story, we find Jesus. Peter’s wandering faith ebbed and flowed, pushed away and pulled close. But he was always tethered to the love of God. 

Beloved siblings, friends, neighbors and strangers, the same is true for you and me. Thanks be to God who forever seeks and to whom we are tethered.

Amen