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46-13th Ave. S Cranbrook, B.C. V1C 2V3

Dorothy Day grew up in a household which had no use for organized religion. In her early adult years, she was a political activist. She marched with the suffragettes, and advocated tirelessly for the poor and homeless.

At the age of 30, she converted to Christianity and became a devout Roman Catholic. She continued her activism as she founded the Catholic Worker Movement, whose aim was “to live in accordance with the justice and love of Jesus.”

In her 60’s, she was visiting on a psychiatric ward. A young man named Stephen was visiting a friend when he noticed Dorothy Day come in. There wasn’t anything special about her. She was an elderly woman who looked like anybody’s grandmother. Stephen introduced himself and asked if he might accompany her on her rounds. She quietly took his arm, and they strolled from bed to bed, chatting with each patient.

Suddenly, there was a loud scream. In the doorway, three orderlies were struggling with a new patient. The woman’s hair was tangled, and ugly red scratches scarred her face. She raged and spit on the three men who were trying to subdue her.

Stephen instinctively moved his arm to guide Dorothy Day away, just as he would any woman his grandmother’s age; but it felt as though he were pushing against a rock. Her eyes were fixed on the screaming woman. The attendants dragged her into a padded cell and slammed the door. Then they limped away to nurse their wounds.

The woman kept shrieking.

Dorothy Day walked to the nurses’ station and said, “I want to go in there.”

The head nurse smiled to herself, and never looked up from her chart. She smiled, “Take it easy, ma’am. If you keep talking like that, we might ask you to stay here awhile …”

Just then, a doctor walked onto the ward. Dorothy turned to him and quietly said, “I want to go in there.”

At first, he ignored her; but then he made his mistake—he looked into her eyes. Something in those eyes held him fast. After an awkward moment of silence, he shrugged his shoulders. “Nurse, have her sign a statement releasing the hospital of any responsibility. If that’s what she wants, let her go in.”

The woman was clawing the walls when the cell door swung open. Her face was twisted viciously, but her eyes were strangely blank. She tensed to leap upon the elderly woman who stood in the doorway.

Dorothy Day quietly held out her hand. The woman fell back confused, and Dorothy Day stepped into the centre of the cell. Seconds dragged into minutes; the woman’s screaming slowly subsided to a hoarse whimper. Huddled in the far corner of the little room, she watched the outstretched hand, waiting for it to draw back.

Dorothy continued to hold her hand out. A long time seemed to pass. Slowly … very slowly … the woman reached out and touched the waiting hand.

When they left the hospital, Dorothy Day searched Stephen’s face. “Did you see him?”

Stephen was confused. “Did I see him? Who?”

She smiled gently. “Jesus … there was nobody else in that room.”

I think we find here one of the great truths of our Christian faith: Faith is not just about doing something. Faith is not just about believing something. Faith is not just about becoming a better person.

Faith is also about learning to see in a new way.

It strikes me that our fourth baptismal promise comes close to that understanding:

“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbour as yourself?”

The first half of this promise is about learning to see Christ in others. It’s about learning to see Jesus in all the ordinary parts of our lives. It’s about orienting our lives in such a way that we learn to see God in every ordinary and wondrous moment of our lives. It’s about learning to see the world through the gospel eyes given to us by God.

So let me invite you now — look to your right; look to your left; look in front of you; look behind you. Whom do you see?

Sure, we see just another person. We’ve seen him or her many times before. They’re an ordinary part of our lives. A friend. A companion. Someone we know. Someone we get along with. Or don’t.

Look deeper. Can you see here a person who is treasured and cherished by God? Can you see Jesus in this person?

It’s easy to forget that sometimes in the everydayness of our lives. But here is Jesus, right in front of you, right beside you. can we learn to see through gospel eyes?

This is partly how the gospel seeks to change us. The gospel invites us to see the world with the heart of God.

Mostly, it’s pretty easy to do that here, in our pews, in the church building, with people who are mostly like us. But what about out there? Can we see Jesus in the person on the street? in the mall? at the theatre? What about that homeless person begging for some help? Or that stinky alcoholic pushing a grocery cart up the sidewalk? Or that so–and–so who just cut you off on the highway? Or the Trump supporter? Or the one who voted for Trudeau? Or the shrieking woman in the psych ward?

Can we see Jesus in them? In all persons? That’s more of a challenge. Some days, it seems impossible.

But that’s what this question asks us: Will you? Will you let the gospel change the way you see the world?

Let me suggest that when we learn to see the world anew, then the question of serving the Christ in them becomes so much more natural for us.

There’s a blessing I use occasionally at the end of worship: “May the Christ who walks on wounded feet walk with you to the end of the road. May the Christ who serves with wounded hands teach you to serve each other. May the Christ who loves with a wounded heart open your hearts to love. May you see the face of Christ in everyone you meet, and may everyone you meet see the face of Christ in you.”

Will you?

See Jesus?

In all persons?

I’d like to take it a step further … will we recognize God in each living thing? Will we recognize the divine in everything around us? But that’s a whole other sermon.

Our baptism invites us to be transformed.

The first question invites us to be deeply involved in community, in worshipping together and opening ourselves to God’s spirit in our lives.

The second question invites us to resist evil, and to align ourselves with God’s gospel purposes.

The third question invites us to imagine ourselves as part of the story of God’s grand adventure in the world.

This fourth question invites us to learn to see the world with the heart of God.

All of these baptismal promises drive us beyond ourselves to see the needs of the world. They drive us to see the world with the eyes of God and to feel with the compassionate heart of God. They drive us to love deeply.

And our response is that we will seek to learn to see with new eyes, to love with a renewed heart, to embrace with a new joy.

“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbour as yourself?”

I will, with God’s help.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

March 11, 2018 (4th Sunday in Lent)

John 3: 14–21

Ephesians 2: 1–10

Numbers 21: 4–9

If I were to ask you to tell me about yourself, you’d probably begin by telling me your story. You’d mention important parts of your life as a way of telling me about who you are. It’s one of the ways in which we make sense of our lives and our world.

The same thing is true of the church. We tell our story as part of the people of God. It’s a way of making sense of who we are—that we are part of God’s grand story in the world.

John Westerhoff writes, “Our identity depends on having a story that tells us who we are. Our understanding of life’s meaning and purpose depends on having a story that tells us what the world is like and where we are going. To be a community of faith, we must be a people with a story, a common memory and vision, common rituals and symbols which express our community’s memory and vision … The church is a story–formed community.”

All of that raises the question, “So what’s our story?”

The Bible’s way of telling the story reflects how our ancestors in the faith thought about God. It begins with the creation of a wide and beautiful universe, moves on to a particular people in Abraham and Sarah. Our story continues as God liberates Israel in the story of the Exodus. The story continues with Israel settling the land, forgetting the story, and being called to remember it again. It includes judges and prophets, psalmists and sages.

For Christians, the story culminates in Jesus. It’s the gospel story of a life lived with compassion and grace. Jesus had no doubt that God was everywhere present. He was executed, and the story reaches its climax in the grand surprise of resurrection.

There are many ways to tell the story, just as there are many ways we can tell the story of our lives.

For me, the heart of the story centres around a God who comes to set us free, who invites us live with grace and compassion, who calls us to care for each other and for the world.

One of my mentors, Jim Cruickshank, told the story this way: “I am your God. You are my beloved people. I will never let you go.”

Exodus 20 also tells the story. We often read this story of the 10 Commandments as a story of law and judgment. In our minds, we picture Charlton Heston as a stern Moses, coming down the mountain surrounded by clouds and lightning, his brow furrowed as he lifts two huge and heavy tablets above his head, thundering that the people must obey God.

That’s one way to tell the story. It works for Hollywood. But that’s not the way the Bible tells it. The Hebrew Bible doesn’t even call them the 10 Commandments. These are the 10 Words. What a difference it makes when you change that one word. The 10 Words.

It begins this way with the first commandment: “I am the Lord your God; I brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.”

Now wait a minute! This isn’t a commandment at all. It’s a statement. It’s a claim. It’s an announcement about what kind of god God is.

In fact, this pattern is how the Bible most often tells the story. It begins with a claim about who God is and what God does for God’s people. The story begins with God’s initiative, and only then does it move on to our response. God has set us free; now, this is how we can live as God’s free people.

These 10 Words begin this way: I am God. I have set you free. I have liberated you. You are no longer enslaved, and then I will lead you to a future of new promises and new possibilities. These 10 Words begin with a declaration that life had been made new.

Pharaoh’s dominance has been ended. God has defeated the domination of Pharaoh. Pharaoh’s brutal system of exploitation has come to an end.

I am God. I set you free.

And then … the 10 Words give us strategies to stay free. If you want to stay free, this is what you must do. Don’t have any other god. Don’t worship them or bow down to them. Don’t use me to bless your pet projects (which is what taking the name of God in vain really means).

Why? Because any other god will enslave you again. If you want to stay free, worship this God alone. Pharaoh, in this story, is a metaphor for anything that demands that we be loyal to it. All the “isms” of our lives which trap us, including racism and sexism and nationalism. Don’t be trapped by them. Don’t worship stuff. Don’t misuse God.

The first half of the 10 Words has to do with honouring God with all that we are.

The second half of the Ten Words tell us to take our neighbour with utmost seriousness. Recognize the dignity of every neighbour, and most especially the disadvantaged and vulnerable neighbour. Don’t violate your neighbour—don’t kill, don’t steal, don’t lie. Don’t crave or take what belongs to your neighbour.

The second half of the 10 Words has to do with loving our neighbour.

And in the middle between these two halves is the command to keep sabbath. Give time to God so that you don’t fall back into the rat race of busyness, the rat race of producing, the rat race of consuming which enslaves and exhausts us.

This is our story: I am God, who set you free. Now live with each other in dignity and compassion.

How does this fit in with our baptismal covenant? Here’s the third promise we make in baptism:

Will you proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ?

Will we tell this story which forms us? Will we help others hear this story of grace and hope? This is the mission of the church—to tell a world which is enslaved to the rat race about a God who sets us free with love, grace and compassion.

Last week, in a very challenging message, I noted that taking up our cross is not really a choice for us. It is a gospel imperative.

The same with this. It is not a choice. That is to say, we can’t really choose to take it or leave it. We can’t do it only when we feel like it. We either tell the story — we either take up our cross and follow Jesus — or we fail to be God’s people.

This is a gospel imperative. We are called to tell and live out the good news of God’s love and compassion in everything we do and in everything we say.

Christopher Duraisingh, who teaches at the Episcopal Divinity School near Boston, says it very simply: “A church that is not a church in mission is not the church.”

Then he goes on to define mission in this way: “Mission is a matter of love. Mission is God’s love affair with the world. The church’s part is to get involved in a love affair with other human beings with whom God has already fallen in love.”

When we promise to proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ, we are promising to tell a love story. A grace story. A joy story. A hope story. A peace story.

God enters our lives and loves us with an endless passion. God sets us free from all that tries to enslave us. God embraces us with a love that includes everyone. God invites us to walk in the way of the cross and to tell this story in our words and in our actions.

As the church of Jesus Christ, we are formed by this story of grace and freedom. Day by day, we add our own chapters to this story as we proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ.

So let me ask you:

Will you proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ?

I will, with God’s help.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

March 4, 2018 (3rd Sunday in Lent)

Exodus 20: 1–17

Psalm 19

John 2: 13–22

1 Corinthians 1: 18–25

 

Wednesday, while I was writing this sermon, I had the CBC News Channel on in the background. They were showing the rally at the Florida State House by the students from the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida which was victimized by the horrifying shooting last week.

Student after student came to the microphone, speaking a single message: “Enough is enough! Never again!”

These young people are making a strong commitment to the future. They are demanding change. Never again should teenagers be subjected to this kind of carnage. Never again should any people experience raw terror like this. Never again should children feel unsafe going to school. Never again should the voice of young people be silenced by those in power. Never again should students have to protest for their lives. Never again should an innocent life be taken while trying to gain an education.

Enough is enough! The time has come … or in the words of Jesus, “The time is fulfilled …”

But this rally was more than a commitment. It was a warning. With a strong voice, they warned politicians and the gun lobby. “You can’t silence our voices. Your thoughts and prayers aren’t enough. You were elected to take action, and when you line your pockets with money from the gun lobby, don’t count on being re–elected, because in a few years, we will be able to vote, and we will vote you out.”

Speaking out is the first step. These courageous young men and women are ready to take the next step … they are ready to act out. They are organizing protests which bring their righteous concerns to the attention of the powers that be. They are organizing a National School Walk Out on March 14, and the March for our Lives on March 24.

Emma Gonzalez was one of the students who spoke on the day after the massacre, “We call BS …” on every excuse that somehow tries to legitimize what happened. Enough is enough!

Why do I bring this up on this 2nd Sunday of Lent? Today we’re talking about the second baptismal question:

Will you persevere in resisting evil and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?

In Lent this year, we are reflecting together on our baptismal covenant. Last week, we reflected on the first promise. We promise to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread and the prayers. We are formed into a community by God’s grace, and we promise to honour that gift by joining together regularly and frequently in worship, where we are strengthened and nurtured to be God’s people.

Today, we promise to resist evil. Actually, the promise is a little deeper than that. We promise not just to resist evil, but to persevere in resisting evil.

Sometimes I wonder whether we think that Christian faith is an easy thing. After all, our lives are mostly pretty comfortable. We have enough money for shelter and food; we have money left over for vacations and other things we want to buy—large–screen tv’s and Netflix subscriptions, computers and internet, stuff for hobbies and all kinds of distractions.

And then Jesus comes along and upsets the apple cart by saying, “If you want to be my followers, deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow me. Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

Or as a contemporary translation puts it: “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self–help is no help at all. Self–sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?” (The Message)

That’s not an easy word. It’s hard stuff. Jesus is talking about life and death. Take up your cross and carry it. Follow me.

That’s hard for us because we live in a world where we’re used to putting ourselves at the centre of everything. We don’t want to give our money away, much less ourselves.

But here’s the thing. If preserving our life is the most important thing, then we easily become consumed with what the body or mind need to keep on going. This morphs quickly into self–centeredness. Pleasing the self becomes the most important thing. All of my energy and my time will be devoted to buying or consuming or experiencing what I like, what I love, what I want.

Advertisers know it, and they suck us into the never–ending journey of chasing a shadow. It is all a lie.

Jesus offers us another model for devotion. Don’t worship yourself, he says, don’t spend all your time trying to fix yourself or please yourself or just stay alive. Instead, give your life away. Hand it over to God. Lose yourself—and you will find yourself. Take up your cross—and in following Jesus you will find out who you truly are.

This is really hard to do, to lose yourself, to give your life to God. It goes against all of our instincts.

It was hard for Peter. He takes Jesus aside and begins to protest. Jesus says, “Get behind me, Satan. You have no idea how God works.”

Now let’s be clear about this word Satan. A quick check of Wikipedia shows that our modern understanding is that “Satan is the Devil; he is the personification of evil in various cultures.”

That may be true these days, but it wasn’t true for Jesus. The Hebrew word ha–satan doesn’t mean “devil” at all. It’s not a proper name. It simply means “the accuser” or “the adversary”.

Jesus isn’t saying that Peter is evil incarnate. Peter is acting as an adversary. He’s standing between Jesus and God’s purposes. So Jesus says to him, “Get behind me. Get out of my way. Don’t oppose me, because I have to do this … and so do you. If you want to walk in the way of the cross, if you want to walk in my way, if you want to be known as one of my followers, then you too have to pick up your cross. For another person’s sake, give yourself away. For God’s sake, give yourself away.”

And as you do so, you will find life. True life. Abundant life.

The question for Peter is whether he’s ready to walk with Jesus. The question for us is whether we are ready to walk with Jesus.

Will you persevere in resisting evil and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?

Will you persevere? When you mess up, as you surely will, 100% guarantee, will you start afresh? Will you turn around, and begin following Jesus in the way of life and death again?

Almost all of us know what it’s like to have that kind of adversary which gets in the way of walking with God, which gets in the way of truly being a disciple, which gets in the way of following Jesus. It might be a person, but more likely, it’s whatever is keeping you from doing the things God has created you for and called you to do.

We call our adversaries by different names. Doubt. Fear. Anxiety. Anger. Greed. A lust for comfort. Insecurity. And a million others.

They all get in the way. And they’re so very crafty about how they get in our way.

Just one example — a friend of mine told me about 25 years ago that he felt called to devote his life to mission work. But he was afraid because he had grown accustomed to a certain standard of living and feared leaving it. He never did it.

Back to Florida. I think we saw hell there with the shooting last week. In the middle of that hell, gospel voices were raised. Young people began to persevere in resisting evil. They began to call a nation to repent its hunger for guns and a gun lobby which lusts only for power and which doesn’t give a damn about other people.

It happened here too. Last night, many volunteers banded together to speak out against the evil of homelessness. We walked, we stood, we worked together in the Coldest Night of the Year event. We raised funds which will help to provide housing and food and — most importantly of all — a little bit of hope.

It happens again and again.

For us, who claim to be followers of Jesus, it is not a choice. It is a gospel imperative.

Will you persevere in resisting evil and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?

Will you … can you … respond, “I will, with God’s help?”

Be careful. It will cost you your life. But in place of your life, you will receive the life of God.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

February 25, 2018 (2nd Sunday in Lent)

Mark 8: 31–38

Genesis 17: 1–7, 15–16

Romans 4: 13–25

In parts of the early church, Lent was a season to focus on baptism.

If you were a new convert to the faith, you would have spent three years learning how to live as a Christian. Lent was the final stage to prepare for baptism at Easter.

If you had been baptized before, Lent was an opportunity to remember your baptism, to reflect on your life in Christ, and to renew your baptismal covenant with God.

We will keep that ancient tradition this year. During the six weeks of Lent, we will reflect together about our baptismal vows and what it means to live as a Christian. Each Sunday in Lent, we will focus on one of the six promises we make when we are baptized. We renew these promises every time we participate in a baptism. Then, at the Easter Vigil, we will renew our baptismal covenant.

We begin with the first baptismal promise.

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

Our life in faith begins in community. We were created to be in community, to be in relationship with God and with one another. Christian faith is about being connected. Christian faith was born in community. It grows in community. It lives and changes in community. We find it at the heart of the great commandment—to love God, and to love our neighbours.

That’s where we begin with this first baptismal question. We promise to gather together week by week to be renewed in our relationship not just with God, but also with one another.

That’s a hard thing for us to understand. One of society’s values these days is individualism. But that’s not a gospel value. Christian faith is born in community, it grows in community, it is nurtured in community. Community is essential for faith.

In fact, most of the verbs in the New Testament are plural … whenever we read “you”, we should most often read “all y’all”. For example, the Body of Christ given for … all y’all. It’s plural. It’s given for all of us.

The story is told of a preacher who went to visit a man who hadn’t been to church for a few weeks. They sat together beside the fire while the man explained that he really had no use for the church. He did just fine on his own, reading his Bible, meditating quietly.

The preacher didn’t say a word. He drew a burning coal out of the fire and laid it on the hearth. In silence, the two men watched the coal burn out and turn cold.

Without community, faith grows cold. In community, however, we work together in partnership with God for the healing of the world. We encourage one another to live out the good news of God’s grace in the world. We live together as the household of God. We are the Body of Christ, who need each other for faith to be strong and vibrant.

The Greek word for fellowship is κοινωνία (koinonia). It doesn’t mean the kind of fellowship we enjoy over a cup of coffee, even though that is a good thing. κοινωνία means a deep fellowship of mutuality. We support and energize each other. We shape a shared ministry in which we all participate. We share the same gospel values. We live together in trust and hope. We look and work together for the renewal of creation.

We live together in ministry. We work together in ministry. That’s what this promise is about. We value being connected, and we promise to make this kind of κοινωνία a priority in our lives.

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

The language of this first promise comes from Acts 2: 42: “the early church devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and to the prayers.”

The life of the church revolves around these elements:

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

A couple of years ago, I read about a Black preacher in Brooklyn, who had invited a white bishop to preach. The bishop contacted him and asked how long he would be preaching for. The Black preacher said, “As long as you need. Six days a week, the world tells my people they’re worthless, so on Sunday we take as much time as we need to tell them how precious they are.”

Six days a week, the world batters us with a different vision. I’ve said before that our gospel values and the world’s values are not the same. The world honours values such as Appearance, Affluence, Achievement. People look at us and ask what we’ve accomplished and how successful we are. In worship, we see with different eyes.

Six days a week, the world tells us we’re not good enough, we don’t do enough, we don’t look good enough, we don’t produce enough. Here in worship, God whispers to our hearts, “You are mine, my cherished daughter, my treasured son; I adore you. You are enough.”

Six days a week, the world tells us to look after ourselves, to get get get, to acquire. Here in worship, the gospel calls us to look after one another, to love our neighbours as ourselves, to share God’s bounty.

In worship, we celebrate God’s grace and compassion in the life of the world. In worship, we are nourished with love and hope. In worship, we are renewed in our identity as God’s people in the world.

You can’t get that stuff anywhere else in the world.

The first promise in our baptismal covenant reminds us that when we are baptized, we are given a new identity. We see the world through God’s eyes. We love the world with the heart of God. Therefore we set new priorities.

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

Your response is, “I will, with God’s help.”

That is to say, not in our own strength, but strengthened by the powerful love of God. In grace and compassion and hope and trust, we say “Yes!” Sometimes we whisper it in the silence of our hearts. Sometimes we shout it in celebration of God’s grace in our lives. Sometimes we struggle to make it here, because the past week has been tough, and we don’t feel very good about ourselves.

But we come. We gather. We add our story to the story of God’s people. We become part of the κοινωνία of the Body of Christ.

So let me challenge all of us: how will we live out our baptismal covenant this Lent? How will we live out our love affair with God and the world which God loves with an undying passion.

How will our trust in God shape the way we live?

How will our love for God make a difference in our lives?

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

I will, with God’s help

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

February 18, 2018 (1st Sunday in Lent)

Mark 1: 9-15

Genesis 9: 8–17

1 Peter 3: 18–22

 

 

You all know the old line that comes from Benjamin Franklin: “In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.”

Let me change that up a little bit: “In this world, nothing is certain except death and the fact that while you live, you are going to mess up.”

Here’s the theme of tonight’s sermon: we are mortal, and we are fallible.

It’s not a very comfortable thing to hear. It’s not a very comfortable thing to talk about either. But it is true. These are two of the certainties of what it means to be a human being.

And if we’re uncomfortable with it, our society is absolutely opposed to this kind of talk. Someone once said that we live in “an officially optimistic society.” So let’s not talk about unpleasant realities. Never let them see you sweat.

But here we are. It’s Ash Wednesday, and today is a day which speaks to both of those realities. If there is any day when we must be honest about who we are, surely it is Ash Wednesday. We dare not be anything less than honest about ourselves today.

Even so, some churches are giving in to the discomfort. They’re changing what we do on Ash Wednesday. Some clergy, when they mark your forehead with the ashes, will say, “Remember, you are stardust”—as if it’s a great big Broadway musical number. Other churches are mixing glitter in with the ashes. They claim that it’s a way of showing inclusion for the LGBTQ community, but my sense is that it appeals to some people because it lightens what seems to be such a morbid church ritual.

I guess that makes me an Ash Wednesday traditionalist.

Today, we journey with our mortality and our fallibility.

Today, we mark our foreheads with ashes. We hear the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust shall you return.” It’s a stark reminder of who we are. Much of the time, we live as if we’re going to be here forever. Today is a corrective to that. Today we acknowledge honestly that our lives are limited, that we are limited.

Today, we also acknowledge the reality that we mess up. I know I mess up. We all do. We hurt people, even when we don’t intend to. We live with broken relationships. We make mistakes. We are often wrong.

At the same time, we are the victims of having been hurt, and we find it difficult to forgive, difficult to heal. We get lost, and we can’t find our way home to God again. We give in so easily sometimes to the values of the culture around us, and we forget the values of the gospel of Jesus Christ. They are not the same.

Today we journey with our mortality. Today we journey with our fallibility.

But … and this is the great gospel word … it is not a message or a journey of hopelessness. We are mortal and we are fallible, but we are also a hopeful people. We are not doomed. We are, in fact, claimed by something much larger than ourselves. We are claimed by Someone who loves us with an unending passion.

Last Sunday, we celebrated the Transfiguration. In the same way, let me suggest that these ashes with which we mark our bodies transform us. We mark our foreheads with these ashes as a strong sign that we are claimed by God. When God claims us, then nothing—not even our own mistakes, not even our own death—nothing can end God’s claim on our lives.

As we begin this journey of Lent, we begin a journey of transformation. Once more, we journey to the heart of our faith, and understand that we are becoming the people of God’s own heart.

What that means for us is that in the midst of the muddle of our lives, God holds us, God claims us, God loves us, God will be endlessly faithful to us.

And so I tell you that there is hope in these ashes. They mark us as Christ’s own people. They become for us the sign and promise of resurrection. But the thing about resurrection is that we can only get there by dying first. Resurrection comes only after death. But resurrection is the powerful, life–affirming promise and gift of one who has been raised. In these ashes, there is hope for even our darkest nights and a sign of the joy that is to come.

We enter the journey of Lent, a journey to the heart of our faith, marked with the sign of these ashes. At the same time, we must remember that our foreheads were also once marked with water, a sign of God’s claim on our lives.

We enter the journey of Lent which is intended to draw us closer to God. We enter the journey of Lent, marked with ashes and then fed with Eucharist. We enter anew into a journey which we have been making all our lives.

We are marked as Christ’s own. We find hope for our story in his story. We wear this sign of hope on our foreheads, and trust that the promise of abundant life is faithful and true.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

February 14, 2018 (Ash Wednesday)

Psalm 103: 8–18

Joel 2: 1–2, 12–17a

2 Corinthians 5: 20b–6:2

Matthew 6: 1–6, 16–21

What a weird little story we read this morning. What do we do with it? How are we to understand it?

Let’s begin with the mountain. In the Bible, high mountains are places of both mystery and revelation. Important things happen on high mountains—Noah’s ark came to rest on a high mountain; Moses received the Ten Commandments on a high mountain; Abraham almost sacrificed his son Isaac on a high mountain.

Today, Jesus hikes up a high mountain with Peter, James and John. At the top of the mountain, he is transfigured. He undergoes a metamorphosis. His clothes became a blazing white. Two heroes of the faith, Moses and Elijah, appear on either side. A voice from the cloud which envelopes them singles out Jesus as the one they should heed. Peter is so awestruck that he suggests they should build some structures to commemorate the event.

At the end, after it’s all over, Jesus asks the disciples to keep it all a secret—until after the resurrection.

What are we to make of this transfiguration story? Strange things are happening here. Heroes of the faith come and go. Wild wonders abound. Jesus glows.

Is it all a dream? Did it really happen? Is this a foreshadowing of the resurrection?

I don’t know. Mark’s way of telling this story is so bare, so terse. There are no extraneous details. There’s no theological commentary He just narrates the story.

Now I can tell you what the details mean:

Those are the details. And it’s helpful to know those details.

But at its heart, this story is Mystery. With a capital M. Mystery.

Our society doesn’t much like mystery. It’s a little uncomfortable. We like to be able to solve things, to explain stuff—and so we think of mystery as a puzzle we haven’t solved yet. Once we figure it out, there will be no more mystery.

It’s like a mystery novel for us. We read and try to figure out whodunnit. We play along with the author, we look for clues and sift through them, and the whole goal is to figure it out.

But there’s nothing to solve here.

So let me suggest this morning that “Mystery” is so much bigger than that. When we are in the presence of Mystery, we learn to see our lives in a whole new way.

It’s like the birth of a baby. I can explain scientifically how a baby is conceived and born and how it grows. I could even bring pictures and charts and graphs. Some of you may have seen ultrasound pictures of your children or grandchildren in utero.

But as any parent knows, none of that counts when the baby is born. It’s good to know the science of how a fetus develops, but that’s nothing compared with the wonderful mystery that suddenly enters our lives when a baby is born. When that happens, we enter the world of wonder and awe.

I still remember the moment I held my children in my arms. I had no words. My heart was suffused with wonder. My whole life was bathed in a new aura of grace. Everything had changed. Everything was new. Life was different.

I suspect most of you know what that’s like. It’s an experience beyond words.

This story in Mark is like that. We witness this mysterious transfiguration, and life is made different. Life is changed.

I don’t know if you noticed it or not, but the story begins, “After six days, Jesus took Peter, James and John …” So we look back in Mark’s story. Six days earlier, Jesus had told them for the first time, “If you want to be my disciples, you have to take up your cross and follow me.”

It’s a hard word. If you want to be a disciple, do what Jesus does. Follow where Jesus leads. Touch people as Jesus touched them. Welcome people as Jesus embraced them. Serve. Give yourselves away for the sake of the world. Take up your cross and follow.

It’s a hard word.

And now, the disciples get this vision of the high mountain. And what comes through in this story is the absolute centrality of Jesus. For a moment, we get a glimpse into the heart of God as the voice whispers in sheer delight, “This is my boy, my precious and cherished boy. Y’all listen to him now.” It’s a moment of tender holiness.

Pay attention to Jesus. Listen to him. Follow him. As you do so, Jesus will show you with life, real life, looks like. Jesus is the key to abundant life. If you watch him carefully, you will know what it means to be fully alive. You will know what it is to live with grace. You will know what it is to live with compassion and hope.

Jesus helps us see that life is shot through with the love and glory of God. Here on the top of the high mountain, Jesus becomes a beacon in the darkness. Jesus will show us what it is to live fully in the presence of God in every moment of our lives.

Listen to him. And as we listen, we will find that Jesus doesn’t explain the secrets of the universe. Jesus doesn’t tell us the meaning of life. Jesus doesn’t give us a set of rules to make a better life. Jesus doesn’t tell us that pain and sorrow and evil will be wiped out.

Jesus shows us again and again that no matter what happens in life, God is present. God is with us. God loves us.

Jesus reveals a relationship.

And there, I think, you have the centre of Christian faith. Our faith is about a relationship with God, which ebbs and flows, which changes and grows, which moves through highs and lows.

As God has claimed Jesus, so God claims us at our baptism, “You are my daughter. You are my son. I will not let you go. Not ever.”

It’s the promise that God is with us. It’s the promise that God is for us. It’s the promise that God is at work in our lives, in our words, in our actions so that we may show God to the world. Just as Jesus is the Light of the World, so we bear the light of Christ in our hands and hearts as we move into the world.

God is with us. And we, as we muddle through our daily lives, we try to be with God.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

February 11, 2018 (Last Sunday after Epiphany, Sunday of the Transfiguration)

Mark 9: 2–9

2 Kings 2: 1–20

2 Corinthians 4: 3–6

 

I mentioned last week that the first thing Jesus does in Mark’s gospel is healing and teaching. This is the heart of Jesus’ ministry; as he teaches and heals, he embodies the kingdom of God. Jesus is the sign that God is present in the world. The time is fulfilled; God’s kingdom is among us.

Our reading this morning continues the reading from last week. Jesus continues his ministry of healing and teaching. “As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Peter and Andrew, with James and John. Now Peter’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.”

Three years ago, when I preached on this reading, the heart of what I said was that Peter’s mother–in–law is portrayed as a model for all disciples. Disciples are called to serve. That’s what it means to be a follower of Jesus. We serve the world—and this faithful woman shows us the way.

But, as I’m fond of saying, context is everything. Today, three years later, we live in a different context. We live while the #MeToo movement swirls around us. Women are stepping forward to reclaim their power. Women are standing up together in community to say that they will no longer be silent in the face of abuse and harassment.

For me, this is another sign of God’s kingdom being born among us.

Context is everything, and so today I read this passage a little bit differently.

“As soon as the fever left her, she was up serving the men.” She is still a model of discipleship, but I’m more aware this year that a reading like this has been used by some men to pile scriptural abuse on women. Some men interpret this passage to mean that this is God’s role for women. They want to “keep women in their place”—and they assume that this is the place God gave women.

John Piper is a prominent Reformed Church minister in the USA with a huge audience. He says unequivocally that “being a pastor is a man’s job … any job in which a woman exercises personal influence or guidance or leadership over a man is an affront to God’s created order.”

Just look at Peter’s mother–in–law he says. God intended her to serve the men as soon as she got well. That’s what women should do.

What utter rubbish! Men like Piper will do whatever they can to keep patriarchy in place. So they use Scripture and religion to abuse women. This kind of religious abuse is not just about hijabs and chadors. It’s also shown in this kind of skewed understanding about what women are allowed to do in God’s economy.

Sadly, it’s not just fundamentalist literalist preachers like John Piper. I’m conscious that the Anglican Church in Canada, for example, only began to ordain women as priests some 40 years ago. The Church of England only permitted women priests to become bishops 3 years ago. Before that, it was men’s work.

So let me be quite clear. When Scripture is used to keep women down, it is the worst kind of misinterpretation. It constitutes abuse.

Peter’s mother–in–law doesn’t serve because that’s the role of women. She doesn’t serve because that’s the order God ordained. No. She serves—more correctly, she chooses to serve—because that’s what a disciple does. Men and boys are called to serve as equal partners with women and girls because we are all followers of Jesus.

When we read it this way, this story is about our calling. Like Peter’s mother–in–law, we are called to serve. Like Jesus, we are called to serve. Like every disciple, like every follower of Jesus, we are called to serve.

In other words, this story of healing is also a story about vocation. The word for “serve” in this reading is the word διακονεω (diakoneo). It is the ordinary Greek word for serving, for waiting at tables, for preparing and serving food. It is the ordinary word for serving someone by attending to their needs.

At a more technical level, διακονεω is the word for “deacon”. A deacon is someone who serves the world in the name of Jesus. To use the words of Paul this morning, we are called to become all things to all people for the sake of the gospel. It’s about letting the gospel set the work of our lives. Paul shows us that the gospel sets the agenda.

When we claim to be a follower of Jesus, it is more than a set of words. It is an action. To be a follower … means to actually follow. To do what Jesus did. To touch people with the good news of God’s love. To reach out to our community, to the people in our neighbourhoods, to the people in our family, and speak a word of healing compassion and love.

It’s a wonderful thing to come to church here at Christ Church and be with our friends in this place. Gathering together like this is very important.

But it isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

We are called to follow. We are called to speak words of compassion and love, to reach out in acts of compassion and love. We are called to tell people what we have experienced here. We are called to show people with our lives about the good news that we have heard. We are called to love our neighbours as ourselves, no matter how hard that can be sometimes. We are called to seek justice, and to speak out against injustice. We are called to put ourselves on the line for other people.

It’s not enough just to come to worship. This good and faithful woman who was healed shows us the way.

I love to do an exercise with small groups when we talk about worship. Let’s try it this morning.

Look at your bulletin. There are five main sections in our worship—Gathering the Community; Proclaiming the Word; Responding to the Word; Celebrating the Eucharist; Sending Forth.

Now, how long does each section take?

Gathering the Community—how long does that take? (6 minutes or so)

Proclaiming the Word—again, how much time? (Yeah I know, it all depends on how long the sermon is) (25–30 minutes)

Responding to the Word—how long? (about 10-12 minutes or so)

Celebrating the Eucharist— (about 15–20 minutes)

Sending Forth—how long? (about 5 minutes)

Nope. You’re wrong. This last act of worship doesn’t last 5 minutes. It actually lasts 6 days, 23 hours and 50 minutes. Our whole life is wrapped in worship. Worship doesn’t end when we leave here. Worship continues all week long as we live as people of God in the world.

We don’t just walk out of here and forget about the liturgy. We live our whole lives in the liturgy of God. That’s what it means to be a disciple. That’s what it means to be a follower of God. That’s what our baptism means. That’s how we live out our baptismal covenant.

 

Peter’s mother–in–law becomes a powerful example and model for us. Jesus sets her free from her illness, she gets up, and she takes up her role as a disciple, a follower of Jesus, a person who is an important part of her community. She serves. She is a deacon.

This is why we gather in worship. We gather, we proclaim the word, we respond to the word, we celebrate Eucharist precisely so that God can send us forth into the world to continue our worship there.

God sets us free to go into the world, where we live and work and serve as disciples, as people who are called, as people who are given a vocation in the world.

Now that’s another kind of MeToo movement I’d want to be a part of. Count me in.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

February 4, 2018, 5th Sunday after Epiphany (Proper 5)

Mark 1: 29–39

Isaiah 40: 21–31

1 Corinthians 9: 16–23

 

Why are you here?

No, seriously. Why are you here this morning? Why have you come to worship? It’s not a question we often think about, but it’s worth doing so.

Sometimes I come to worship out of habit. Sometimes I come because I have to (well, you know, it’s my job, but I gotta tell ya that some Sundays I would much rather sleep in). Often I’m here because I love to gather with all of you. When I was younger, I came because my parents made me (and by the way, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that). Sometimes I come because I need to be fed, nourished with word and sacrament.

The reality is that we come for many different reasons. What about you?

Here’s a second question. When you come, do you expect anything to happen? Do we come anticipating that something might happen in worship? Do we expect God to act?

Or is today just going to be more of the same old same old? Ho–hum!

Did you hear what happened in the synagogue in Capernaum? The guest preacher that day amazed everyone. “Wow! This guy is great. He preaches with such conviction and authenticity. Yme’s ok as far as he goes, but this Jesus is awesome!!!”

Mark tells us that “he teaches with authority”; the Greek word exousia (ἐξουσία) also means “conviction” or “integrity”—the kind of integrity that grabs you and won’t let go. He practices what he preaches. He draws us in so that we dare to believe that God is right here among us. He touches something deep with us, and it’s amazing and life–giving.

We don’t know what Jesus’ sermon was about that day, but Mark tells us at the beginning of his gospel that the heart of Jesus’ message is, “The time is fulfilled. It’s time. God’s kingdom is near. It’s here. Repent and trust this good news with all your heart.”

Now let’s be clear that the kingdom of God is not a reward given to us after we die. We live in the kingdom of God now. God’s kingdom is here, and we are kingdom citizens as we honour God’s gospel values. We live in the kingdom of God as we work for the healing of the world.

That’s what Jesus teaches with such exousia, with integrity and conviction.

Suddenly a madman interrupts worship. A wild voice cries out, a disruptive, disjointed, crazy voice.

Who let him in? Where were the ushers? Why weren’t they doing their job?

“What business do you have with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” His shouting drowns out the preacher. “I know who you are—the Holy One of God. I know what you’re up to. You’ve come to destroy us.”

Jesus confronts the man, or rather the voice: “Be silent and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, cursing and spitting, leaves.

We don’t like to talk about unclean spirits and demons much these days, but in ancient stories, demons represent forces which are opposed to God. They rob God’s people of the abundance and joy which God intends for us. Rather than bless, they curse; rather than build up, they tear down; rather than encourage, they disparage; rather than promote love, they sow hate; rather than draw us together, they seek to tear us apart.

I want to say that there are still unclean spirits and demons at work in our world. Sexual abuse and harassment. Bullying. Addictions. Prejudice and racism. The rise of the alt right. You name it. All of these get in the way of God’s love in the world. They destroy and curse and tear us apart.

Besides that, personally we also carry loads which get in the way of God’s love in our lives. We also carry burdens which sometimes seem too heavy. We also face puzzles in life which seem unsolvable.

In the synagogue that day, Jesus silenced that voice. Jesus removes the burden which the man was carrying. “Be silent and come out of him!” That translation is actually much too gentle. It’s more like “Shut up!! Get outta here!! NOW!!!”

Here’s what Mark is getting at—Jesus is the sign of God’s kingdom on earth. In Jesus, the time is fulfilled. In him, God’s kingdom breaks loose in the world. In him, God’s healing and compassionate love is made known. Jesus connects with us at the point of our deepest need. Those who are yearning for a sign of hope find it in him. Those who long for healing find it in him.

This is the very first thing Jesus does in his public ministry. He teaches. He heals. This begins to define his whole ministry. He will be a sign of God’s presence in the world. He is light in the darkness. Then he beckons us and invites us to follow in this way.

It happened in worship in that synagogue in Capernaum. The people experienced God’s kingdom breaking into their world.

What about us? Do we see the signs of God’s kingdom breaking into our world? Can we also look for signs of hope and new life? Can we open our broken lives so that God’s healing spirit can mend us?

I believe stuff happens in worship. It’s not just a bunch of words. The words we speak and sing and whisper in the depths of our hearts point to God’s activity in our lives and in the world. Something happens here in worship. God touches us with a word. God feeds us. We can see signs of God’s kingdom at work among us, if only we have eyes to see.

Do you want to know what God’s reign looks like? Watch Jesus. He eats with tax collectors and sinners and the people whom society kicks in the teeth over and over again. He heals on the Sabbath and breaks all kinds of religious rules—because people are more important. He delights in the faith of a foreign woman who dares to argue with him for the healing of her daughter. He opposes those who seek to exclude others. He lives with grace and hope and joy, with compassion and love. He reaches out and invites.

Let me tell you about Bill, a very good friend of mine. About 25 years ago he died of cancer. He was only 38 years old when he was diagnosed with leukemia. The doctors gave him 9 months. Bill lived about 4 more years—and he used those 4 years about as wisely and well as any person could. He focused on what was important in his life—his wife; his friends; the ministry he loved to do; his faith. Because of the diagnosis, he set new and strong priorities which reflected the kind of life he wanted to live. When he died, he wasn’t cured. But Bill truly was healed. Meaning had been restored to his life. Meaning had also been given to those of us who were close to Bill, and so along with Bill, his wife Pat was healed. His parishioners were healed. I was healed.

That’s the kind of healing which Jesus brings. It’s partly about an individual. It also involves a whole community.

In such signs, the kingdom of God is here. The time is fulfilled. God still comes among us to heal the world, to heal individuals, to heal communities, to heal our relationships with one another and with creation.

Jesus broke all the religious rules; he trashed all the boundaries; he included outsiders; he dashed demons; he made people whole and drove the religious authorities nuts. That’s why they nailed him to a cross.

And this Jesus says to us, “Come along. Walk with me. Follow me. Let’s figure this stuff out together.” This Jesus invites us to be an expectant people, waiting for God to show up, seeking to discern how we might work in partnership with God to make life more whole.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

January 28, 2018 (4th Sunday after Epiphany, Proper 4)

Mark 1: 21–28

Deuteronomy 18: 15–20

1 Corinthians 8: 1–13

I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men — remember the old Sunday School song?

Remember the next line — if you but follow me.

If you but follow me I will  make you fishers of men. Pretty awesome, pretty easy.  Right?

That’s part of the text of today’s readings that grabbed my attention and I find it both exciting and comforting.  I’ll attempt to explain why but first let’s deal with that word that ‘glares’ at us 21st century people.

Men — I will make you fisher of men, just doesn’t sound the same when you sing I will make you fishers of people. It just doesn’t sound great to say people BUT it does seem to exclude women if so men. .

Many also look at the fact that Jesus called James, John, Andrew and Simon Peter — there was no 50% mix of genders like our Prime Minister would want.

Was that the intent? I don’t think so. But if we look at the culture of the people when this was written it does make total sense.

One big reason is men would have been out working along the shores. Men would be doing the fishing and mending the nets — women wouldn’t have been there. Men could follow Jesus without fear of being called a harlot or worse. Men were traditionally the leaders of the day and were listened to by others — women, not so much. At least not visibly — I’m sure lots of politicking was done behind closed doors by the real leaders of the land!!  However, Jesus was indeed followed by many women and neither Jesus nor Mark were trying to leave them out here.

If we look at Mark 15:40 we will see .. there were women looking on from a distance; among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger of Joses, and Salome. They used to follow him and provided for him when he was in Galilee; and there were many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem.

Some of these women may be hidden in the stories of women who demonstrate faith in Galilee and Tyre and Sidon: the woman in the crowd, the Syrophoencian mother, and the anointing one.  There are probably many who were called, rose, were healed and followed. Let’s not forget it was women who went to the tomb on Easter morning and called the men to see.

Looking at it this way, I think the phrase ‘fishers of men’ simply refers to people or mankind, or humankind which is the way it’s written now in many translations.

So, that doesn’t let us women off the hook — we’re invited to become fishers of people too.

Let’s go back now to where I said I found these words comforting.

Yme said last week Jesus invites people to ‘Come and See’ — he doesn’t force them, he doesn’t coerce them and he doesn’t beg them — he invites and leaves it to them to decide for themselves.

The same is true this week when he says, ‘Come, follow me.’ We get to choose whether we accept the invitation or let it go. And, we get to make that decision each time an opportunity is presented. The more often we say yes, the more likely it will become a way of life and get easier.

But Jesus takes the initiative and does the inviting — he doesn’t wait for us to find a good time, the right time or be in the right head space. He appears, says follow me and the rest is history…

He doesn’t say, repent and follow me to be a fisher of people or show me your resume and I’ll see if you measure up or what’s your family history and your social standing, he doesn’t say make sure you know the Bible/Torah and then I have a job for you— he says follow me and I’ll make you fisher’s of people

He will make us fishers of people — that implies to me that he will do the work if we but willingly follow.  Pretty simple stuff, right? Follow with an open heart expecting good things and He will both present the opportunity and do the work.

Another comfort is that he calls James and John who are called the sons of Thunder — so we know that can still be ourselves as we follow. He actually calls many different personalities and occupations to be among the 12 disciples and he still does today. By all accounts the disciples were ordinary folk of varying status in the community and as we’ll see later with Paul they weren’t always open to the Christian way at first call. The disciples ‘call’ to become fishers of people was certainly not as dramatic as Paul’s but was probably just as life-changing.

Nor was it like Jonah’s in the first reading… Jonah was called to deliver a message to people he didn’t like and whom he hoped wouldn’t accept the message. Jonah tried to avoid taking the message but finally clued in that was what God wanted him to do and did it — God used him to save a people.  And he had to be called twice and he was told what to say.  That’s comforting too – if I don’t get it right the first time I’ll still be called again.

In today’s reading there are no further instructions for the fisherfolk — Jesus simply says, “follow me and I’ll make you fishers of people”. People along the highways and byways of life, people we meet in the street and the grocery store and at our workplaces and even online – we never know where those waiting to hear the good news may pop up in our lives.

I also like the fact that it’s fishermen he invites in his first act of ministry — fishermen who cast their nets out and see what will come back, fishermen who never know what the day will bring; people who hope, accept success today and defeat tomorrow and still try again.

Fishermen work together – the fisherman along the seashore didn’t work alone either to cast the nets or pull them in.  Now they would work with one another and with Jesus – that’s good news for me too – no expectation that I’m on my own to get it right.

He invited fishermen. He didn’t invite carpenters who take a chosen product and do the work to craft it into something beautiful or useful. Right away the expectation of me is lessened — I can cast a net and see what happens-  Might catch nothing or maybe a full net.

They were fishermen — people used to doing the same thing every day and, as I said, they are unsure of the result. Fisherfolk also had to be prepared for the unexpected – who knows what may land in their nets. They cast the net over the water, let it fall where it lands, let it sit while the fish lose their wariness of it and slide in and then they bring it back to shore to check whether they got anything or not. Their catch would come in all shapes, sizes and kinds of fish. Fishing is not a fast process either — lots of time for thinking and watching and doing other things as they wait for the net to do it’s work. Once it’s in, emptied and the catch dealt with they start all over.

If we decide to be fisher’s of people, as invited, then we just need to cast out the net and see what happens and who, or what, pops into the net and then reel it in.

I think culturally, these four made a huge change in their lives. In their time men were expected to provide for the family, including the extended family and therefore the expectation would be that these men stayed in the family business to take over from their father when the time came. They weren’t out looking for a career change – let alone a life change. Leaving to follow Jesus for them meant giving up everything, their way of life, their family status, their livelihood and possibly their friends. Notice that they left what they were doing immediately and they didn’t stop to weigh their options or ask questions. Boy, I know I’d be asking what the end game is – they just left and followed.

But the good news is we don’t have to do leave our families, our friends or our jobs, we just have to intentionally follow.

I think for most of us it does requires a little more effort than ‘following’ someone on Facebook or Twitter  or Instagram.  We can’t just sit back in our easy chair and watch for a posting and ‘like’ it. We do have to cast the net out and with Jesus help reel it in.

And, for your net to be effective you have to continually inspect it and sometimes get rid of a piece that is rotting and weave in a new piece and other times you need to retie the frayed pieces and then you’re ready to cast it again.

When I look at my net I sometimes see something I need to give up — and sometimes I need to repair a section that has frayed — realign with my goals. Sometimes I cast it out and forget to bring it in and it sits in the water too long. So we do need to inspect our nets now and again too.  But maybe that’s what we all need to do just be prepared to cast our nets and bring them back, inspect them, mend when necessary and then cast again.  Maybe sometimes we can dangle a line instead of a net or spend some time fly fishing. — no matter how we fish the most important thing we have to do is to make the decision to follow.

And He will make us all fisher’s of people.

Amen

Sermon preached by Deb Saffin (January 21, 2018)

Mark 1: 14-20

Jonah 3: 1-5, 10

Come and see.

It feels good when someone invites you. Come and see.

And so you do. You take up the invitation. We like it when someone shares part of their life with us. We feel included … and that’s such a good feeling, so you go with the friend who invited you, and you see what has her so excited. You share in her joy; you delight in whatever delights her.

“Gracious invitation” is a good way to describe how Jesus responds to people. He doesn’t get defensive or irritable or boastful or demanding—we see those characteristics all too regularly in some of our so–called “leaders” today.

Rather, Jesus responds with a sense of gracious invitation. He focusses on his dialogue partners. He becomes open to them. He really “sees” them. He takes them seriously. He invites them to come and see.

In today’s gospel reading, it’s Philip who makes that invitation to come and see comes from Philip. Philip has already met Jesus. Now he finds a friend, Nathanael. It seems that Nate is a bit of a smart–aleck. When Philip tells him that Jesus comes from Nazareth, Nate’s response is, “You gotta be kidding me! Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

And Philip says, “Come and see.”

Inviting. Come and see.

The whole gospel revolves around this kind of gracious invitation.

Jesus is constantly inviting people to check it out. He meets someone, engages them in conversation, and invites them to look differently at life. It starts with these early disciples, with Philip and Nathanael. Then there are the guests at the wedding feast. Nicodemus at night. The Samaritan woman at the well. The man born blind.

People in all kinds of different situations encounter Jesus. Some are puzzled or confused. Others simply do not believe Jesus. And some take up the invitation, and they invite others. And some don’t take up the invitation, and walk away to a life that is so much poorer.

I think this is a model for how the church reaches out.

When I was a teenager, I was invited to be part of a high school Bible study group. By my third meeting, I really didn’t like what they were saying, but I stayed anyway … because I wanted to belong. I wanted to be included.

At one meeting, the leaders told us we should always carry a big Bible around, so that people would know we were Christians. “It’s a symbol of your faith. The bigger the Bible, the better! Let people see how proud you are to be a Christian!”

I didn’t believe the leaders back then. I don’t believe them now. They were just sooooooo wrong. The church doesn’t go around knocking people over the head with a big Bible.

We invite. We reach out in love and grace. We invite people to walk with us in the way. We meet people where they are at … and join them in conversation, in laughter, in friendship.

Come and see.

But notice that Jesus always does something else. Jesus never stops with “Come and see.” Jesus always moves on, and invites them and us to “come and be”. Come and be someone new. Come and be transformed. Come and be the person the world needs. Come and be the beloved child of God which you are. Come and be an epiphany of God. Come and be a sign of God’s love in the world.

Such simple words. Such warm words. Such easy words.

That is the heart of Christian evangelism. That’s the warmth which brings people to discover the presence of God in their lives.

Invite.

Come and see.

And then, come and be.

I think there is something good going on here at Christ Church. I believe there’s something worth inviting people to here. I think we’re doing something good here … we’re getting involved with each other and with God … we’re part of what Michael Curry calls “the Jesus movement” … we know here that we are God’s people and that we are bathed in God’s love …

… and that is a good thing.

I think it’s worth inviting others to join us.

What do you think?

Come and see. Come and be.

Thanks be to God.

Rev. Dr. Yme Woensdregt

January 14, 2018 (2nd Sunday after Epiphany, Proper 2)

John 1: 43–51

1 Samuel 3: 1–20

1 Corinthians 6: 12–20