be moved and get moving

3rd Sunday before Lent/Epiphany 6, Year C, 2019

St. Mary’s & St. Peter’s, Bagillt

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

There’s a history of movement throughout the Bible. Think about some of the most familiar stories: Abram leaving his home and traveling to a foreign land in obedience to God. The dramatic escape of the Israelites from the hands of the Egyptian pharaoh followed by their wandering in the desert for forty years. Joseph and a very pregnant Mary traveling to Bethlehem to be registered for the census only to turn around and flee to Egypt to escape persecution. For a people rooted in the importance of the land because it was given to them by God, there’s an awful lot of movement happening. 

Today’s reading highlights movement, as well. We are in the early stages of Jesus’ ministry. He has just spent time praying to God on the mountaintop. He then calls his disciples to him and selects 12 of them to be his closest followers. They journey down the mountain until they come to a level place, where they find a crowd who have traveled from all over to hear Jesus preach and find healing for various ailments. This is when Jesus gives his famous sermon called the Beatitudes. In Matthew’s Gospel, this is called the sermon on the mount. Matthew writes to a Jewish audience, and so he wants to emphasise that Jesus receives this message from God, a throwback to Moses receiving the 10 Commandments on Mount Sinai. But Luke’s Gospel is written to a non-Jewish audience and lifts up the poor and oppressed, those on the margins of society. And so in Luke’s version we have Jesus, the Son of God, coming down from the mountain, this high place close to God, and moving to be with the masses. The level place is to be understood as a metaphor for suffering, misery, mourning, idolatry, and disgrace. Jesus moves to be where people need him the most, and everyone there reaches out to touch him and to listen to his message.

And what a message! I’m sure many of you, like me, have listened to it so many times that you kind of glaze over when you hear it now. Luke’s version differs yet again from Matthew’s in that there are fewer blessings, but corresponding woes. Blessed are you who are poor, but woe to you who are rich. Blessed are you who are hungry, but woe to you who are full. Blessed are you who weep, but woe to you who are laughing. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man, but woe to you when all speak well of you. 

This isn’t literally saying that people who are wealthy, popular, happy, and satisfied are unable to get into heaven but the poor, unpopular, weeping, and hungry are able; the beatitudes are not really about how to live so you can get into heaven but rather about how the kingdom of God is realised on earth. It’s about movement, or being moved. Poor, here, refers to people who know that they depend on God, while the rich have no use for God because all of their needs are met; they remain unmoved. We empathise and identify with the poor, because like them we know we rely on God. The hungry hunger for the Good News of the Gospel, while the full are content with their own news. We empathise and identify with the hungry, because like them we are hungry for the Good News in Jesus Christ. I do want to add a disclaimer: to be blessed does not mean that there won’t be challenging times ahead, it simply means that God is happy with you because you are prioritising the right things. 

The crux of Jesus’ sermon on the plain is about movement—internal movement. Jesus came to earth that our hearts would be moved. In his preaching as well as by his actions we see that he constantly focuses on people ignored or rejected by society: the poor. The sick. The lonely. The outcasts. The sinful. He calls his 12 closest followers to be his apostles, a word meaning “those who are sent.” In response to our hearts being moved, we get moving. We work, every day, to refocus on what God would have us do, to bend our “unruly wills and passions” to conform to God’s will (from today's collect).

And how do we do that? Well, we find our answer in today’s Gospel. Henry Nouwen, a Dutch Catholic priest, remarked that so often we try to navigate this world on our own. When we get stuck on a task or a problem, we go to our friends, and if/when that doesn’t work, out of desperation we finally turn to God. But in the Gospel Jesus begins with prayer, then calls his apostles, and then they do the work of mission together. We are to follow his lead. We go first to God, then we bring along our friends, then we go together into the world to help bring about God’s kingdom on earth.

Today may our hearts be moved so that we can get moving. 

Image found here

launch out into the deep

4th Sunday before Lent/Epiphany 5, Year C, 2019

St. Mary's & St. Peter's Church, Bagillt

Last week the theme of the readings was sacrifice and offering. Today’s theme is sin and redemption. 

Before we get into the passages, let’s review what exactly the Church is talking about when it mentions sin. Sin as the Church understands it is intentional rebellion against God, choosing our own way instead of God’s way. Sin damages the relationship between us and God or us and our neighbours, because we focus on our own wants to the exclusion of the needs of others or of God. 

In Isaiah we have this beautiful vision of the heavenly throne, with seraphim (six-winged angels) worshiping God. How does Isaiah respond? “Woe is me, I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips” (Isaiah 6:5). Faced with all this glory, Isaiah realises his unworthiness. In the presence of God Almighty, Isaiah recognises his own sinfulness, and that of all humanity. Yet the story doesn’t end there. One of the seraphim touches a hot coal from the altar to Isaiah’s lips, cleansing him from his sin. He is then freed to go to his people and tell them that despite their sinful ways, God is desperate for them to restore their broken relationship. 

There is discord in the Christian community that Paul founded in Corinth, and so Paul writes them a pastoral letter addressing their conflict. He says that whatever disagreements they might be having, the most important thing to remember is that Christ has died for our sins and has been physically resurrected, in accordance with God’s plan. We know this because the risen Christ appeared to crowds of people, to the disciples, and finally to Paul. The Good News of Jesus Christ is that even a sinner like Paul, who violently and systematically persecuted Christians, can be redeemed and then used by God.

In the beginning of his ministry, Jesus is wandering about from village to village teaching, preaching, and healing. Crowds begin following him wherever he goes, hungry for a connection with God. As the crowd begins to get a little too close for comfort, Jesus steps into a boat just off of the shore. He asks Simon Peter to take him a little further into the lake so that he can teach the crowds. After he is finished, he tells Simon to “put out into the deep water” and use their nets to catch some fish (Luke 5:4). I can imagine Simon Peter chuckling nervously, catching the eyes of the other fishermen. What does this itinerant preacher, the son of a carpenter, know about catching fish? He protests, saying, “Master, we spent all night fishing but didn’t catch a thing” (v. 5). And then he humours Jesus and goes out anyway. When they put the nets out, all of a sudden they can’t contain all of the fish swimming into their nets and have to call for help. Even then, the boats are so full they begin to sink. And how does Simon Peter respond? “Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!” (v. 8). Faced with this miraculous power that he perceives to be of God, he acknowledges his unworthiness. Jesus tells him to not be afraid, for despite his sins God has a plan for him. And he drops everything and follows Jesus.

The story of Jesus calling the disciples as they were fishing is one of the few stories found in all four Gospels. Luke’s account is the only one that mentions Peter saying he was a sinner. I think we have this idea that we have to be perfect before we can step up to the altar, or before we have any authority to speak of God and how God has been a part of our lives. How many of us respond to God’s call with “Go away from me, Lord!”

The thing is, none of us is worthy of God’s love or even notice. We fail repeatedly. We hurt each other. We hurt ourselves. And in doing so, we hurt God. Lest you think you are alone in that, the passage from Isaiah is commonly read at ordinations, a good reminder to clergy that we are in the same boat. 

The amazing thing that we learn from the Bible is that God is constantly reaching out to us, calling us back into relationship. Over and over again, just like in the readings today, God uses people who aren’t good enough. Who wouldn’t make the cut if it were up to us. Sinners like Peter and Paul, one a humble fisherman and the other a persecutor of Christians, became the rock of the Church and missionaries of the Gospel of Christ. What must it have been like to be told about Jesus by these uneducated fishermen? And yet God consistently entrusts the Gospel to those we least expect. But who better than poor, humble people to teach us about humility? And who better than fallen and broken people to teach us about God’s forgiveness, redemption, and mercy? 

We are all broken. Every one of us. But we come to the altar to remember that our God was broken for us. Our story begins in sin, but it does not end there. If you’ll notice, all three of the passages included confession. In the presence of God, Isaiah, Paul, and Peter all admit their faults, they come clean. God does not give up on us but calls us to an amendment of life, and when we confess, we find redemption. 

What is the response of all three, Isaiah, Peter, and Paul, to this saving grace? Isaiah goes out into his community and tells them about God. After his conversion Paul spends the rest of his life spreading the message of the Gospel. Peter drops everything and follows Christ. And now the faith has been handed down to us. Our stories have been added to their stories, and so telling this story is our task, too. If it appears too daunting, let me point something out to you.

In the Gospel passage, where Jesus tells Peter to “put out into the deep” this can also be translated as “launching out into the deep” (v. 4, KJV). In Israel water was a metaphor for chaos (remember the Israelites had to have a whole ocean parted before they would cross over to the other side). So when Jesus asks Peter to launch into the deep, we should see this as a message “to encourage the church to drop its nets into the chaos of life today” (Ronald J. Allen, commentary on workingpreacher.org). We are faced with the stark reality that Christianity is not as popular as it once was. We can’t assume that people these days know about Jesus. But we have in our very hands this incredible story of a God who loves us in our brokenness. Who calls us back, again and again. Who says that not even death or hell or anything in heaven or on earth “can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:38-39). 

Peter and his fishermen friends “model what the disciples and the church are to do: they are to do what Jesus says, even in the face of unpromising circumstances” (Allen). Who knows what we’ll find in our nets? We are all called to launch into the deep, confident that God can—and indeed is—working through broken people like us to bring the message of Christ’s redeeming grace to the world.

sacrifice

Presentation of our Lord, Year C, 2019

St. Mary's & St. Peter's Church, Bagillt

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. 

We have before us today pieces of Scripture saturated with vivid imagery. Malachi paints the picture of the coming of God, swooping down to set the world back in order, administering judgment to those who exploit others, and delivering justice to the exploited. In Hebrews we delve into how and why Jesus came to rescue us from being enslaved to death. And in the Gospel according to Luke we hear about the first time Jesus goes to temple, where he meets two faithful souls. Yet woven throughout all three readings is a common thread of sacrifice and offerings. 

When Mary and Joseph bring Jesus to Jerusalem, they are obeying the Jewish law of purification. This law is two-fold: the mother must be purified in the temple 40 days after childbirth before she is considered pure enough to be able to return to society. If any of you remember the custom of the churching of women, this law is the root of that tradition. However, nowadays in the Church the emphasis is not on purification so much as giving thanks for the safe delivery of mother and child, of officially welcoming both mother and child back into the community after they have recovered.  

The second part of the law of purification is presenting one’s first-born son to God. This may call to mind the story of Hannah and Samuel. Hannah is barren and prays fervently for a child. God grants her prayer and she miraculously bears a son named Samuel, who she then dedicates to God. Mary and Jesus are a parallel story, except in Jesus’ case, his parents make a sacrifice of two birds on his behalf, redeeming him back from a life of service to God in the temple. Samuel must remain in the temple, but Jesus is freed from this responsibility. 

Jesus is freed from a life of service to God. And yet, this is exactly what he ends up doing, which means that it is completely Jesus’ choice to take on the responsibility. When Jesus dedicates his life to preaching and teaching people about scripture, it is Jesus’ choice to do so. When Jesus performs healings or exorcisms, it is Jesus’ choice to do so. When Jesus gives up his life on the cross for our sake, it is Jesus’ choice to do so. Our salvation through Christ does not come because God the Father makes God’s son do it, like Abraham offering up his son Isaac. Our salvation comes because Christ willingly volunteered, offered up himself on the altar. This makes his sacrifice all the more meaningful. 

You may wonder why in the Anglican Church we call clergy priests and not pastors or ministers. Every time we gather for the Eucharist we are recreating the story of Jesus’ resurrection. The priest stands before the altar to offer the sacrifice of bread and wine which is then changed into God’s body and blood, given and shed by Jesus on our behalf. The priest isn’t up there because they are more special than the people in the pews, but because they have been set apart by the community as one to make the sacrifice on their behalf. When I celebrate at this altar I am not turning my back to you to hide my hands while I perform some religious magic trick that you’re not good enough to see. I’m not facing away from you, rather we are all pointed in the same direction, facing God together, and as your priest I am offering a sacrifice on our behalf, yours and mine. This is a recreation of Christ’s offering. As it says in our reading from Hebrews, when God comes to earth in human form, Jesus becomes the “merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make a sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people” (Hebrews 2:18). When we celebrate communion, we are remembering that Christ offered himself for us. We call this the Eucharist because Eucharist means thanksgiving. We give thanks every time we eat the bread and drink from the cup that God chose to save us, not because we earned it or are deserving, but because we serve a gracious God.

So how can we possibly respond to this grand gesture, God’s demonstration of love, other than participating in the Eucharist? We find two reactions right here in the Gospel. Interestingly, this is the only occasion where Jesus is in a temple and he doesn’t do any speaking, where Jesus is silent. And so what is lifted up instead is the voices of Simeon and Anna. Simeon is described as a devout and righteous man in tune with the Holy Spirit. When he meets the holy family in the temple he immediately recognises Jesus as God. He cradles the baby Jesus in his arms and praises God, because in meeting Christ he is finally able to face his own death. Simeon, guided by the Holy Spirit, realises that Jesus will bring salvation to the whole world, both Jews and non-Jews. Simeon can face his death without fear because he knows that Christ is the saviour, and that God is with him. Does this mean that pain and suffering has been eliminated from the world? No, even Mary is told that a sword will pierce her own soul. It still hurts when we lose people we love or when we face our own death. But the blow is ever so slightly softened by knowing that death is not where our story ends. This is the crux of our faith, trusting that our lives are not over upon our death but rather that we will rejoin God and our loved ones in a place where pain and fear can no longer have a hold of us.

Anna, another devout and faithful person who has dedicated her life to serving God in the temple, has a slightly different response. She, like Simeon, sees Jesus in the temple and also praises God, but then immediately begins telling everyone that she has met the one who will bring about the salvation of God’s people. She spreads the Good News because this is the natural reaction to such an incredible occurrence: to go and tell others that they might share in this good news with us!

Mahatma Gandhi said of the Bible, “You Christians look after a document containing enough dynamite to blow all civilisation to pieces, turn the world upside down and bring peace to a battle-torn planet. But you treat it as though it is nothing more than a piece of literature.” We have in our hands this salvation story, this faith that has been handed down to us. It is not meant to be kept to ourselves; we are meant to share it with a world desperate for some Good News. May we follow Simeon and Anna’s lead and respond to God’s grace with trust, gratitude, and by joyfully spreading the news that in Christ’s sacrifice has come our salvation.  

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motivated by love

St. Mary's & St. Peter's Church, Bagillt

Epiphany 4, Year C, 2019

1 Corinthians 13

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. 

“Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude” (1 Corinthians 13:4-5a). How many times have we heard these words sitting in a pew at a wedding? I’m not sure if it is as popular a choice here as it is in the US—in full disclosure it was one of the readings at my wedding—but there can be no denying the beauty of Paul’s poetry in his first letter to the Corinthians.

What a lovely choice for a wedding—I can just imagine the happy couple sitting together, listening to someone describe the pledge they are making to one another. Love “… does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (vv. 6,7). Chapter 13 is a great choice of scripture for people in a committed relationship. 

However, it might interest you to know that this part of the letter was actually not intended to emphasise romantic love at all, but was instead written to a Christian community in strife.

Corinth was the capital of one of the Roman provinces. The booming metropolis was a great centre of activity and a perfect place for Paul to spread the good news of Christ to a large audience. The newly Christian Corinthians were apparently a lively bunch, perhaps at times going overboard in their devotion to Christ. They were also a divided community because of competition over who was taught by which faith leader.

Paul writes this letter to the worshiping community that he founded, answering their questions, providing guidance and wisdom, and correcting misunderstandings and problems. 

Last week we heard Paul describe Christians as the Body of Christ. Each person in the community has value and brings their own unique gifts to the table, just as each part of the body serves a unique and vital purpose. Some gifts are more crucial than others, but we need everyone’s gifts in order to be a functioning faith community. 

Today we hear Paul name the motivation behind these gifts. “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” (v. 1). The Corinthians emphasised the gift of speaking in tongues, but if their motivation was to be a spectacle rather than to bring people closer to Christ, then the words they were speaking were just a bunch of noise. “And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing” (v. 2). Some of the Corinthians apparently tried to impress people with their abilities, intelligence, and faithfulness in an attempt to achieve a higher social status. But higher social status is not the end goal of Christian life, so it is an exercise in futility. Finally, “If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing” (v. 3). It seems that some of the Corinthians were so concerned with their image that they would openly give away possessions or even risk their lives in an effort to appear pious. But when the motivation is not love, these sacrifices appear insincere and hypocritical. 

Instead, Paul says that love in a Christian community should be humble, patient, considerate, and kind, rather than boasting or drawing attention to itself. Love should involve compromise between equal parties rather than be something dictated from a superior. Love should be accepting, hopeful, enduring, and faithful. 

This next part I can imagine Paul saying, “Love is unending, but these gifts you have that you are so proud of, they will not stand the test of time. They will go with you when you go. And anyway, we only have a very limited understanding of what goes on in this life. Get it together, children. Grow up. I grew up; now it’s your turn. The time will come when all will be revealed to us. But now is not that time.” 

Ultimately what Paul is trying to tell the Corinthians is that the goal of Christian community is not about how much we know or what we do. Any action we take or goal we pursue should be a reflection of the love that Christ has for us. “Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (v. 12b). 

We are fully known by God. Think about that for a minute. God sees us as we are, with all of our flaws and failures, our selfish desires, the ways we tear each other down to build ourselves up, the ways we inflict pain on one another, the way we hate ourselves. God sees all of that, and still decides to come down to earth to help us out. Jesus not only teaches us and lives his life as an example, but offers his own life so that we might be able to join him in paradise. 

Jesus is the perfect example of what a life motivated by love looks like. This is what we strive for in our own faith community. We aren’t just passive observers but active participants in the greatest love story of all time, that of God for God’s children. 

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putting the powerful to shame

Feast of St. Agnes 2017

St. Thomas' Women's Retreat homily

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God's alone. Amen.

Today we are celebrating the feast of St. Agnes of Rome. Agnes lived in Rome in the late 3^rd and early 4^th centuries. This was a time of major persecution by the Roman emperor, Diocletian, who was no friend to Christianity. Under his command, churches and scriptures were destroyed, and Christians were brutally tortured and killed.

We don’t know a whole lot about Agnes, but we do know her name means “pure” in Greek and “lamb” in Latin. This is fitting, because Agnes was only 12 or 13 when she was executed for her faith. As you can imagine, her young age caused people to question the leadership of Rome. Was the emperor so weak that he felt a little girl was a threat? Killing a virgin was against the law; therefore, it was hypocritical for Rome to say Christians were destroying the old ways when they themselves were ignoring old ways to kill them. And finally, if a little girl was able to face her death without fear, then maybe there was something powerful about Christianity.

Agnes’ martyrdom in 304 shook the empire and helped to bring about the end of the Diocletian Persecution. Within 9 years of her death, Rome’s new emperor, Constantine, had declared Christianity the official religion of the Roman empire.  

We celebrate martyrs like St. Agnes because their witness to Christ inspires us to face the troubles of our own day with courage and faith. In the Gospel reading, Jesus tells his disciples that the greatest in the kingdom of heaven are those who have the humility of children. Through the life and death of young Agnes and martyrs like her, as the collect says, God has used “those whom the world deems powerless to put the powerful to shame.”

Throughout history, women have been deemed powerless. We have had to work and fight and negotiate and protest just to have our voices heard. In this work, we have had strong women and girls to guide us: Mary, the teenaged, unwed mother of Jesus who spoke of God’s incarnation as the catalyst of flipping the world order; Joan of Arc, whose visions and courage inspired the French during the 100 Year’s War; Sojourner Truth, who fought for civil rights and women’s suffrage; and more recently Saint Mother Teresa, whose life spent living among and caring for the poorest of the poor in India earned her the Nobel Peace Prize and eventually sainthood. These women and millions more have bravely stood up to “put the powerful to shame.”

You and I will most likely not achieve what these women did in their lifetimes, but we find courage in their devotion and witness to Christ. And we find strength when we gather (like we are today) to hear of God’s love and mercy and justice, and then take and eat and become the Body of Christ. The Good News is that, as Paul writes in his second letter to the Corinthians, we can take heart because God resides within each one of us (2 Cor 6:16). God makes God’s self at home in our hearts. With that knowledge, we can face whatever comes our way.

Fourth Century Icon of St. Agnes in Rome

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come. see. follow.

St. Thomas’ Church, Whitemarsh

Epiphany 2, Year A, 2017

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

While I call Boone, North Carolina, my hometown, I actually spent the first 12 years of my life further south in Alabama. My classes went on the usual field trips: to the state capital in Montgomery and to the U.S. Space and Rocket Center in Huntsville. I know I had fun and I’m sure I learned a lot of interesting things at the time, but I’m afraid I can’t recall them now. However, there is another trip that is imprinted in my memory, that remains with me to this day. You see, I grew up in Birmingham, and so it was only natural that the other field trip was to the recently opened Civil Rights Institute. We walked around the building, learning about the civil rights era and the particular events that took place in Birmingham. All of a sudden, we turned a corner and came face-to-face with what was left of a Greyhound Bus. To jog your memory, this was a replica of the bus the Freedom Riders had ridden in May of 1961 from D.C. on their way to New Orleans to commemorate the seventh anniversary of the signing of Brown vs. Board. On the way, they had been stopping in different southern cities, trying to bring attention to segregation by entering “whites-only” places on the interstates. The first incident happened in South Carolina when three of the Freedom Riders were attacked at a “whites-only” waiting area. Despite their injuries, they continued on their journey. Two days later, the Greyhound ended up in Anniston, Alabama, where they were met by a mob of 200 people. The bus driver kept going past their stop, but the mob followed, and when the tires eventually gave out, someone threw a bomb onto the bus. The riders made it off the bus, but were beaten as they escaped the flames. The freedom rides continued six days later with different people, and over the next few months, hundreds more joined the cause. In the fall, after mounting pressure both nationally and internationally, segregation in interstate transit terminals was finally prohibited.*

I had studied about the Civil Rights movement in school, but it wasn’t until I saw the blown-out windows and charred frame of the Greyhound that it became real, became more than just something that would show up later on a test. I had known that people could be mean to one another (I had siblings, after all) but this was the moment when I understood—when I became aware—that humans were capable of doing truly evil things. 

     

Today’s gospel reading is filled with examples of seeing, looking, watching— of becoming aware. John the Baptist sees Jesus coming toward him and recognizes for the first time that this man is not just his cousin, but the Son of God (John 1:29, 31, 34). I don’t know how much time they had spent together growing up, but according to Luke’s Gospel account Mary and Elizabeth seemed pretty close, so I imagine they met up at least once in a while (Luke 1:39-46). John has most likely seen Jesus countless times, has probably heard the stories of his and Jesus’ miraculous births, but it isn’t until he sees the Spirit “descending from heaven like a dove…and remain” on Jesus that he realizes Jesus is God’s Son (John 1:33-34).

What happens next is important. John doesn’t just notice and continue along as if nothing has changed. He tells others—his own followers, no less—that this is the one for whom he has been preparing the way. His life’s work has been to baptize and call for repentance, pointing toward someone greater than he. And now he is literally pointing to Jesus. Two of John’s disciples decide to follow Jesus after the second time that John testifies about him.  

Jesus notices them following him and then we have this exchange: He asks them what they are seeking, what they are looking for, and they respond with another question, “where are you staying?” (v. 38). On the surface, it appears as if they are asking him his address. But it’s really more like they’re asking him “what are you about? Where do you pitch your tent? What’s your deal?” Jesus replies, “Come and see” (v. 39). And they do.

Out of this, Andrew becomes the first disciple, and he returns bringing his brother, Simon. Simon is renamed Peter (meaning rock, because he eventually becomes the spiritual head of the Church). The disciples not only come and see, but follow. Awareness leads to action. They don’t remain observers on the sidelines, but get involved, devoting their entire lives to following Jesus.

To follow Jesus is not an easy thing. Note that John refers to Jesus twice as the Lamb of God. Jesus, the sacrificial lamb, dies on a cross for our sins, and all but one of his disciples end up being martyred just as he is.  

To follow Jesus is costly. It is uncomfortable. The way of love and compassion requires us to step outside of ourselves, our family units, and our communities, and to take not only notice of the suffering of others, but to then do something about it. When we become aware of injustice, it is our duty as Christians to get involved.

After the 10 am service, you are invited to join in our fourth annual pack-a-thon, where we will be packing food for over 20,000 people worldwide. While this is going on, the youth group will be cooking for Church of the Advocate’s soup kitchen and then serving the meal tomorrow.

But our work doesn’t stop there. We can’t only be Christians on Sunday morning or during Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend. To follow Jesus means we have to be aware and get involved on a regular basis. To notice people in need and give up some of what we have so that others can have enough. To be aware of where we participate or are complicit in the mistreatment of others. Sometimes it may even mean standing up not just to people in power, but also to friends or family members. Like I said, it’s not easy to act on our faith.

It will take practice, and we’ll inevitably make mistakes. But the Good News is that despite our shortcomings, "God is faithful" (1 Cor 1:9). So come and see—and then follow—Jesus.

May 14, 1961 (Mother's Day)

Burning Greyhound bus that the Freedom Riders rode

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Model of the Greyhound bus

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*information on the Freedom Riders found here: http://www.history.com/topics/black-history/freedom-rides.