it's not fair!

Friday after Ash Wednesday

Here are the readings from Ezekiel, Philippians, and John for today.

At first the reading for Ezekiel left me with a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth. The passage seems to be saying that God punishes people directly for their sins. The people in the passage are complaining that God's way is unfair, but God is saying that the people's way is what's unfair. First, God makes the point that God is the one in control, not us: "You belong to me; I made you, and so you are mine" (my paraphrase). We humans are limited beings--we don't have knowledge of what is going to happen in the future or how the world works. That's up to God. At this point I begin thinking of Julian of Norwich's vision of God holding all of creation the way we might hold a hazelnut.

(Image from http://www.pathguy.com/damejulian_s.jpg)

 In this vision, Julian ponders:

"I wondered how it [creation] could survive
since it seemed so little
it could suddenly disintegrate into nothing.

The answer came: ‘It endures and ever will endure,
because God loves it.’

And so everything has being
because of God’s love."

We are so minuscule compared to the greatness that is God. We have such limited knowledge of what's going on in this world and beyond. It reminds me of some verses from Isaiah that we use as a canticle in our Book of Common Prayer: "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:8-9). We humans can't see the big picture, and so we really aren't able to judge whether or not God's perceived action or inaction is unfair. 

Sometimes God can seem so very far away, especially when I'm going through a rough time or doing things I know I'm not supposed to do. I mess up, and mess up, and mess up. And a lot of times I make the same mistakes more than once. In fact, most of the time it's easier for me to identify with the wicked people in this passage than with the righteous.

But here's the part where I really find hope: God is waiting for us to turn our lives around, to admit when we go astray and repent of our wrongdoings. It's like God is saying, "C'mon, people, you know that you can't keep going along on your own. That's what sin is--separating yourself from Me. And living this way will tear you apart. Why do you keep doing this? I don't enjoy disciplining you! I created you for joy, not sorrow. So wake up!"

This seems to be an appropriate passage for Lent, after all: "Turn, then, and live."

hold my hand

Wow. Day 3 and I'm already behind! I will mention that I did read Scripture yesterday and wrote some notes, but it was the Scripture for Sunday since I'm preaching. So I'll wait to post about that until after I write my sermon :o)

Here are some reflections for Thursday:

Two verses of Psalm 37 (vv. 24 & 25) struck me today:
"Our steps are directed by the LORD; * he strengthens those in whose way he delights.
If they stumble, they shall not fall headlong, * for the LORD holds them by the hand."

I am in a great place right now. My future is looking bright, and it seems like (except for GOE scores) all the news I have been getting lately is good news. Yet, all this good news is making me feel suspicious. Why should I have it so easy? Is all of this happening because I said yes? But if that's true, then why aren't all my friends in the same place? What's the catch, God? I keep looking around my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to get the phone call that something terrible has happened.

Yesterday (Thursday) I met with my spiritual director. I told her all of my good news and my hesitation to live into that news. She told me that the nagging voice in the back of my head filled with suspicion and doubt is NOT the voice of God, but the voice of one trying to lead me into what she calls a place of "spiritual desolation." She suggested that when I feel that I am being led down that path, I should follow Ignatian wisdom and:

Insist a little more on

    1. self-examination

    2. meditation (tell yourself the TRUTH)

    3. prayer (since you can't fix yourself, turn the care of your life over to God...ask for the grace of God's help)

    4. small acts of courage (do little things that stand in firm contrast to what the wrong spirit is trying to convince you of)

What great advice! I left our meeting feeling relieved. Since it was sunny out, I decided to take a walk and enjoy the day. I know that I can't stay in this happy place forever, that eventually I will have to come down from my cloud, but until then I will attempt to rest in the knowledge that God is with me, regardless of what happens, and God will give me the strength to get through both the good and the not-so-good times. But for now, I will try to live into the joy of the present moment. After all, joy is my word of the year :o)

(Image from http://cdn.rap-up.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/hold-my-hand.jpg)

ashes, ashes, we all fall down

Well, it's that time of year again. Christmas is over and Epiphany has disappeared with the final bites of syrup-drenched pancakes from last night's Shrove Tuesday pancake supper. Today marks the beginning of Lent, what we call the 40 or so days before Easter--a time of self-discipline, prayer, fasting, reflection, and reconciliation. Traditionally, people give up something during Lent: sweets, TV, facebook, or alcohol, for example. Some choose instead to take on something, like exercising, a new prayer practice, or hand-writing letters. Whatever you choose to do or not do, the intent is to deepen your relationship with God. This year I have decided to read Scripture and write my reflections on the passages that resonate with me. Why am I telling you this? Well, once again, I blog partly to keep friends and loved ones informed of my seminary experiences, but also for accountability purposes--it's a way of forcing me to "walk the walk," you see.

I'm going to start by essentially breaking my first day of Lenten discipline. Tonight I want to focus mainly on the amazing experiences of today, because today was pretty awesome.

Two friends and I met on the patio at 6 this morning to offer the imposition of ashes to people on the metro (we didn't do this with a particular church, but modeled it after the "Ashes to Go" movement, which has appeared all over the internet as the latest meme). We placed ourselves at the entrance to a  metro stop near to the seminary. People walking by must have thought us a strange sight: two people dressed in black cassocks--one male, one female (a friend was borrowing mine, so I was in street clothes)--holding small bowls with ashes in them and a sign that said "Ashes to Go." I had made handouts explaining the meaning of this sacramental act, along with the website of the Episcopal National Church and a picture of the "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You."

What did we hope to accomplish? Well, I personally didn't really know what to expect when we went out there. I thought maybe a handful of people might ask for it, but at first, there were no takers at all. People stumbled in to the metro station, still groggy and half-asleep because of the early hour. As the sun rose, people began to wake up more (including us) and actually looked in our direction. There were two guys handing out newspapers, and one of them talked to us a little when traffic was slow. One man got off of the metro and was waiting around for his ride. He smiled at us, and so I eventually worked up the courage to ask him if he wanted some ashes. He asked us a few questions about it and then agreed--our first taker! He told us he was a Baptist minister and was waiting for a ride to his work. As time passed, more and more people began to look our way, and a few of them stopped. Most people were curious, some people smiled, some shook their heads, and some were completely indifferent. One person started to come over but then said, "Oh, I really should go to church. Thank you, though." A few said, "what a great idea!" Two or three of them called Daniel "Father." Chana, however, felt that she was getting weird looks--they didn't quite know what to do with a woman dressed in that clothing. One man came running to the entrance, started to pass us, and then turned and came up to Daniel. Yes, he wanted ashes, but when Daniel went to put the cross on his forehead, the man lifted his index finger and asked, "Catholic?" to which Daniel replied, "Umm, Episcopalian?" At that, the man turned on his heel and went back inside the station. Some people tried to pay us, a few asked if we were "for real." All in all, we probably had about 20 takers between 6:20 and 7:40. One of the newspaper vendors even asked to have ashes put on him!

When we got back to campus, we went to the Ash Wednesday service. Ash Wednesday is a Quiet Day on campus, which means that we are to spend the day in silent meditation on the Word and example of Jesus Christ. A local rector gave the meditation, which was very moving. However, I struggled a little with the reading from Matthew (6:1): "Jesus said, 'Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them, for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.' " Did this passage mean that the "Ashes to Go" movement was a way of flashing our religion? In some ways, perhaps it did, but I think our main point was not to flaunt our faith but to evangelize--to carry our faith out into the world instead of waiting for people to come to us. If nothing else, we served as a reminder to the world that we exist (and to Christians that today is Ash Wednesday so they can try to make it to a service). And I'm sure some of the people who approached us had never heard of Episcopalians before. But now they have!

After the meditation I went to the Holocaust Museum. I hadn't been inside the main part of the museum since going on a field trip with a class in college. It seemed appropriate to revisit it on Ash Wednesday, when we are to remember our own mortality and repent of wrongdoings. But I was admittedly a little nervous about walking around this particular museum with ashes in the shape of a cross on my forehead. One of the security guards asked me about it and I spoke with him and then handed him one of the leaflets I had made. More evangelism, woo hoo!

The museum was just as powerful this time as it had been the last time. I was still dumbfounded by the extent of cruelty inflicted on so many people--how can we do this to one another? How brainwashed or scared do you have to be in order to attempt to systematically wipe out entire villages full of people? More importantly, why did it take so long for most people to react to the Holocaust? And how could a benevolent God allow this to happen? Well, I've never been good at coming up with answers for the question of theodicy, and it's late, so I'm not going to attempt to explain my thoughts on it right at this moment. Needless to say, it was a sobering experience.

After returning to campus, a couple of us went back to offer ashes at a different metro station. This time we hit the rush hour just right, and had many more takers. We had similar reactions as in the morning (except that everyone was much more awake), such as curiosity, ambivalence, appreciation, and indifference. It seemed like the people approaching us were much younger this time than before. The average age was around 30, and we even had some young children participate! We wondered if we were getting mostly young adult participation because the 5 of us were in our mid-20s to early 30s. Who knows? We think the total number of people who received ashes and/or information from us was about 75-90. That's awesome! My classmates are hoping to continue the tradition with more VTSers next year. There's no way to measure how much of an effect we had on people today. But it's not about the numbers. The experience was worth it (lack of sleep and cold temperatures included!) even if it only helped a few people reflect on their relationship with God.

Collect of the Day for Ash Wednesday:

Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have
made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and
make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily
lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness,
may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission
and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives
and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever
and ever. Amen.

Daniel and Chana in the metro station

you raise me up

Here's my sermon for this week (The 5^th Sunday after Epiphany)! The text is Mark 1:29-39.

“When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary; when troubles come and my heart burdened be; then, I am still and wait here in the silence, until you come and sit awhile with me.”[1]

May only God's word be spoken and may only God's word be heard. Amen.

The thing that strikes me the most about the passage from Mark is the sense of urgency. It’s as if there’s not enough time to get everything done. The scene opens with Jesus and his disciples as they leave the synagogue. Jesus has just spent the day teaching and performing an exorcism, and I bet he is pretty tired. He and his disciples go to Simon and Andrew’s house, presumably to rest. But he barely gets his foot in the door when they tell him about Simon’s mother-in-law, “at once.” I bet most of you can relate; you come home after a busy day at work, hoping for a quiet evening to wind down, but little Johnny gets sick and you have to take him to the E.R. Or you get ready to watch a TV show after school but then remember that huge science fair project that is due the following morning. And you haven’t started yet. And it doesn’t look like a snow day will be a possibility. Know what I’m talking about?

Well, I’m guessing that this is something like what Jesus must have felt like. But he keeps his cool and comes over to where Simon’s mother-in-law is lying. He takes her hand, lifts her up, and she is healed.

Now at this point the feminist in me gets distracted by the mother-in-law’s response to being healed. Really, mother-in-law? You were just lying down on the couch with a fever and the first thing you’re going to do when you get up is go into the kitchen? But, as tempting as it is to get caught up in this part, I’m going to have to come back to it another time, because the story doesn’t stop there.

I’m not sure how long Jesus has a break before people from town start showing up at the house. Perhaps they trickle in, after rumors of his healing power have circulated. Or maybe they show up as a mob, minus the pitchforks. Regardless, every sick person in town is brought to Jesus to be healed.

The whole city is gathered; that’s a lot of people! When I picture this scene, I imagine it must be similar to a war hospital: people everywhere, some weeping, some wringing their hands, some exuding strange and powerful smells—in short, utter chaos. But, just as doctors and nurses must put all of their fear and sadness and tiredness aside in order to focus on the task at hand, Jesus puts his own needs on the back burner so he can heal these hurting people.

How long does Jesus spend healing people? Well, we don’t know, but at some point either he or someone else in the house (I’m betting it was the mother-in-law) must turn away folks so everyone can get some rest. All we know for sure from the passage is that Jesus doesn’t heal all of the people—yes, he heals many, but there are some people who are turned away.

Maybe thinking about these people is what wakes him up early the next morning. Maybe there was just too much on his mind for him to sleep and he needed to take a walk to clear his head. Maybe he just wanted some alone time from all the people around him—from the townspeople, from the mother-in-law, from his disciples. 

He leaves the house when it’s still dark out and finds a place where he can be completely alone. In the stillness, away from distraction and the chaos of the previous day, Jesus prays.

Have any of you experienced something like that? Maybe it’s like how after you bring little Johnny home from the E.R. and you see that he’s resting peacefully, you are finally able to relax a little. You stop and take a breath. Maybe even whisper a quiet “thank you” into the night. Or like when you look up after finishing the science fair project to see the first few pink clouds in the sky and you pause to watch the sunrise for a few minutes before slipping back under the covers.

While Jesus is praying, the disciples wake up and begin to panic when they see Jesus is not there. The passage says they are hunting for him—not just searching but pursuing, like you hunt after game or even enemies. Simon and the disciples must be relieved when they finally find him. At this point I like to picture Simon as Jesus’ frantic personal assistant. I can just hear him going off on Jesus: “There you are! Everyone’s been searching for you. Okay, now we’ve got a busy day ahead of us; first my house is going to serve as a healing station, where you’re going to heal some of the people you didn’t get to yesterday. Then in the afternoon we’ll go back to the synagogue where you will teach some more. You know, the people in this town love you—I think we could set up our ministry here and be set for life!”

Jesus looks at him, amused, and replies, “That sounds nice, Simon, but actually, we’re not gonna stay here. I think we should go to the nearby towns and tell them the Good News, too. Yep. That’s why I’m here.” And he does exactly that, continuing to heal and preach his message wherever he goes.

What can we take away from this passage? Personally, I can relate to the sense of urgency, of anxiety, and it’s no wonder: 18.1% of adults in the U.S. have an anxiety disorder,[2] and one article I read said that last year the National Institute of Mental Health ranked the U.S. as the “most anxious nation in the world.”[3] We can get so busy with work and school and extracurricular events and social obligations and…and…and…the list goes on and on. With all of these responsibilities, it’s hard to fit in time for God. Yes, we are here this morning when we could be sleeping in, and that’s really important, but do we make time during the week to be with God?

If you’re like me, then being disciplined in your prayer life is a huge challenge. In the midst of all the busyness, it’s easy to let prayer slide because God is not always as direct at trying to get our attention as some of our friends are. But God is always waiting for us, yearning for us.

We can start responding to God with baby steps. Maybe try setting our alarm 10 minutes earlier to pray or journaling for 10 minutes before going to bed. Or when we’re at a red light or stuck in traffic we can take a few deep breaths and ask for patience or say a prayer for the friend who’s been on our mind lately. I’ve found that having a prayer partner helps keep me accountable.

No matter how we respond, the world is going to keep moving along at break-neck speed. It will be easy to get caught up in the rat race and lose sight of what centers us. Carving space out of our busy schedules to spend time with God can give us the strength we need to face whatever comes our way. Try it this week and see what happens! After all, in the beautiful poetry of Isaiah, “those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles…”

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[1] You Raise Me Up, lyrics by Brendan Graham 

[2] http://www.nimh.nih.gov/statistics/1ANYANX_ADULT.shtml

3 http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/2011/01/its_not_the_job_market.html

image found on http://itsourblog.typepad.com/.a/6a00e5512b1361883301157024e0b0970b-800wi

might I have a word?

Some of my college friends and I have a tradition where we pick a word to represent the year, as a kind of focus for meditation or reminder of something we need to work on. We don't necessarily have to think about it every day, and we might not even think about it very much, but it's been interesting to see how sometimes the words have defined my years, even if only a little bit. Here are my words for the past few years:

2009: still 

(as in, "be still and know that I am God")

2010: abundance

2011: release 

(as in, "letting go")

2009 was marked by transitions. I went from being a full-time youth and young adult minister in Omaha to a first year seminarian (a.k.a. "junior"). I chose the word still as a reminder that God was with me during this time of change.

2010 saw the end of my first year of seminary, where I had been stuffed with abundant information. The highlight of the year was the birth of Isaac and Evelyn, making me a Godmother once again. Those two bring me (and everyone else) abundant joy. 2010 also was marked by periods of loss. The year began with an Earthquake in Haiti, a tragedy personally affecting three of my friends and fellow students. I spent the summer in Omaha doing CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) working as a hospital chaplain. Being with people during intimate moments of pain and suffering was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and in listening to their stories I realized the abundance that I actually had been blessed with. Finally, in October our school chapel burned. Yet out of the ashes we arose stronger and our relationships with one another and with the Church community deepened. There was an outpouring of love from family and friends all around the country. Abundance, indeed.

2011 began with a month-long immersion in Myanmar. Seven folks from VTS traveled under the guidance of Kitty Babson, an alumna who has traveled there over 50 times since the '90s. We formed new relationships with theological students and reconnected with former VTS classmates in Yangon, were the guests of honor at a dinner in Hpa-an, rode elephants and led a retreat in Toungoo, and watched gorgeous sunsets from temples in Bagan. Everywhere we went, we were welcomed with songs and sometimes even dances! Bishop Stylo and Bishop Wilme and people everywhere, stranger or friend, showed us hospitality the likes of which I have never before seen. In fact, we were so moved by the people there that we pledged to help some of our friends with a project. Eleven months later, thanks to the generosity of friends and family all over the country, I am overjoyed to say that we met our goal! I will never forget the kindness of the people of Myanmar; they remain in my thoughts and prayers, and I treasure the memories of my time there.
Came back from the trip exhausted to middler spring semester, arguably the most difficult semester in seminary. Then finally made it to summer, where I traveled some but mostly took it easy; it was a time of renewal, of release (for more on this see earlier post). Then began my senior year, a time of beginning to let go, to say goodbye. This included giving my senior sermon, taking a class with a professor who was retiring, and taking advantage of being so near D.C., with its (free) monuments and museums. Finally, letting go by spending my last Christmas Eve at home with my family, revisiting German traditions of Advent carols, lighting candles on the Christmas tree and baking German cookies. Thanks to the magic that is Skype, we were able to connect with our cousin who couldn't come this year because of work as well as my mom's side of the family (all of whom are in Germany). One highlight this Christmas was watching The Help as a family, which led to Grandma and my aunt and mom sharing their experiences of what life was like in the South for white women. It was interesting to hear their perspectives and to learn of the relationships they had formed over the years.

And now we have come to the end of the year. Four years ago (exactly) I became vegetarian, and am still going strong. I never would have imagined I would be where I am now. I wonder what this next year will bring? Among other things:

• GOEs (General Ordination Exams), kind of like the Div version of comps for grad students in January. 
• Spring Break pilgrimage to Taize, France, visiting the Christian community there. 
• Graduation in May, followed by reentry into The Real World. 
• Perhaps even ordinations, should God be willing and the people consenting. 
• And then there's the possibility that the world will end on 12/21/12. You never know...

In thinking about what word would be good for this coming year, I thought of hope, which, as a theological virtue, can be defined as "openness to the future" (this was me proving I've been studying, haha). This would be appropriate for what the Great Unknown that lies ahead. But the more I think about it, a different word feels better, somehow. This past year I've been coming to terms with who I am and how God made me. And in learning to love the version of God's image that is me, I have found a sense of happiness, of contentedness. I thought it would be good for me to continue to cultivate this process. And so, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my word of the year for 2012: joy.

I hope 2012 brings you and your loved ones much joy.

"For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." 

Isaiah 55:12

"This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." 

Psalm 118:24 

[side note: don't know if you noticed, but both of these verses have been put to song...]

preparation

Here's my sermon for 2 Advent! The reading was Mark 1:1-8.

The seasons of Advent and Christmas are my absolute favorite of the year. The Advent traditions at my house include fun things like counting down the days to Christmas with Advent calendars, baking lots of traditional German cookies, lighting candles on the Advent wreath, and singing beloved Advent songs. One not-so-fun tradition in Advent is the process of cleaning the house in preparation for Christmas: picking up, throwing away, rearranging, scrubbing, vacuuming, mopping, and everyone’s least favorite—dusting. Cleaning is hard work, it’s stressful, and it often leads to at least one argument. Every year we go through this same struggle, but it’s worth it; a few days before Christmas, my dad’s side of the family descends upon the mountains of North Carolina, so that there are 13 or more people staying in the Shine household. The best way to describe it is joyful chaos. This happy time with family is well worth the headache of preparation.

In Mark’s Gospel today we hear about another kind of preparation from John the Baptist. John is a man with horrible fashion sense that is on a weird diet and makes speeches from his home…in the middle of the wilderness. He’s not exactly what we would call “normal.” But instead of staying away from this bizarre man, people are drawn to him—he’s even popular! Maybe people initially start going to him out of curiosity, but once they’re there, they get hooked, and more and more start going until virtually everyone in the nearby towns and countryside is gathering to see him. We don’t know exactly what he says, but it has something to do with preparation. You see, the people are hungry for some good news. Israel is under Roman occupation and her people are forced to pay heavy taxes to the Emperor. They are tired, poor, angry, and resentful; they want their freedom and want to be left alone. Well, John is telling the people that there’s someone stronger coming, someone who is going to change everything. But before he comes, they need to get ready; they need to prepare. And the way they are to prepare is by reflecting on their lives, repenting of what they’ve done wrong, and celebrating being forgiven by participating in a symbol of purification—baptism. So they line up to get baptized by him, awaiting Jesus’ coming with hope.

The first hearers of Mark’s Gospel are waiting for Jesus’ coming as well—his second coming. They are in a time of war and political division, of persecution and poverty; they are also hungry for Good News. In listening to this story they recognize that John the Baptist is actually dressed like one of the ancient prophets—persons with messages from God. The first words of the Gospel, “the beginning of the good news,” trigger in the listeners the memory of the loving God who created the world “in the beginning.” The setting of John’s ministry in the wilderness remind them that God brings their ancestors out of Egypt through the wilderness, and it is in the wilderness that God gives them instructions on how to love God and love their neighbors; the 10 Commandments. The mention of Jerusalem foreshadows Jesus’ death and resurrection, a demonstration of God’s love, reconciliation, and mercy. And in the last verse of the Gospel the mention of the Holy Spirit calls to mind Jesus’ promise of leaving behind an Advocate so that God will remain with them always. To the first listeners, this passage from Mark’s Gospel is very good news.     

In Advent we are still waiting for Jesus and are called to prepare for his coming. To tell the truth, we live in a world that could use some cleaning up. Like Mark’s first audience, we live in a time of war and political division, persecution and poverty. Our economy remains shaky and thousands of people have been taking to the streets and risking violence in order to protest the rising disparity between the rich and the poor. In this time of economic uncertainty it’s easy to get caught up with just taking care of our own, but we can’t deny the fact that there are millions of people around the world who are suffering, some of them in our own neighborhoods. We know that this is not how the world should be. 

“But it’s too big of a problem!” we protest. “How can we possibly make a difference when it’s hard enough to provide for our own families?” 

We can start by taking small steps, like reevaluating how we're spending our income. Maybe we don't need the latest iPhone, or that second coat, or a third pair of skinny jeans. To put things into perspective, according to research done by the National Retail Federation, Americans spent $52 billion on Black Friday this year. $52 billion. Compare that to the cost of providing clean water to the world, which is estimated to be between 9 and 30 billion dollars per year. That means we spent $22-43 billion more in one day than it would cost to provide clean water for the whole world for one year.

The numbers from the study are sobering, but maybe we can reframe it to see that there is also potential here. In this season we are bombarded with advertisements for gifts, pressured to put up decorations, and forced to attend way too many Christmas parties. Just imagine what would happen if everyone in this room decided next year to buy local gifts instead. Or made homemade ones. Or made donations to charities in people’s honor. It could make a big difference! Now imagine if most of the people in Alexandria did this. And then the country. And then the world. This idea may be somewhat naïve, but as we wait for Christ’s return we continuously work and hope and strive for a better world, so why not dream big? I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen some amazing things happen when the people of St. Mark’s work together.  

Every day we await Jesus’ return. In this season of Advent we are invited to prepare for his coming by reflecting on our own lives, repenting of what we’ve done wrong, and sharing weekly in a meal that renews us and reminds us of the one who died to forgive our sins. Our Lord Jesus is coming; prepare the way of the Lord! 

confidence in the flesh

Here is the sermon I preached at St. Mark's yesterday. The text is Philippians 3:4b-14.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord,  our strength and our redeemer.”[1]

“If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more.”[2]

At first glance, today’s reading from Philippians makes Paul seem—well, arrogant. As he rattles off his résumé, I can’t help but picture him sitting there at his desk, listing off his credentials with a smug expression on his face. He sits there with his chest all puffed out, thinking how fortunate the Philippians are to have him as their mentor. Frankly, the first few times I read the passage, it aggravated me to no end, causing me to roll my eyes and shake my head in frustration. “I know he’s Paul, but, seriously, who does this guy think he is?” Maybe some of you felt the same way when you heard it a few moments ago. 

Without the back story, Paul’s message can get lost in this seemingly egotistical writing style. But perhaps our view will shift if we try to see where Paul is coming from.

First of all, Paul is writing this letter from jail. A prisoner, he awaits his trial and sentence, unsure of the outcome. However, instead of moping around his cell feeling sorry for himself, he has taken the time to write to people very dear to him. Amazingly, despite his situation, this letter is full of joy, gratitude, and hope. 

The Philippians are part of a Roman colony, in the westernmost city that Paul has ever traveled to. The Christians there have a great relationship with Paul, and it is obvious that he cares for them deeply. Apparently, there has been some division in the community, and so Paul writes to encourage them to remain unified, setting aside their differences and focusing their eyes on Christ. 

In addition to struggles within the community, there are people outside the community trying to convince the Philippians that because they converted to Christianity from paganism, they need to adopt all of the Jewish customs and practices in order to be true followers of Christ.

It is to these people that Paul is speaking in the beginning of the passage. He starts by demonstrating that he has the authority to counter their argument. He, himself, is Jewish, through and through. He comes from the right family, has grown up in the tradition, and has followed the Law, or the Torah, to a “T”. Basically, he’s saying, “I’ve been there, done that, and I am better at it than you. If the only way to achieve righteousness—to have a right relationship with God—is to follow the Law, then I have already achieved it.” 

But everything in his past changes for Paul when, in a powerful experience on the road to Damascus, he encounters Jesus Christ. After this event, he comes to realize that humans aren’t able to be righteous on their own. It is only the grace of God that grants us righteousness. Paul says the Law is important, but when we put the Law above everything else, we are missing the point.

 

Here Paul provides a startling metaphor: he imagines his life as a balance sheet. On one side are gains, on the other, losses. According to the world’s standards, he had it all. But he takes everything that he’s counted as gain, as part of the plus side, and places it on the side of loss. Everything he has previously thought is important, everything he has been doing to try to become righteous is rubbish, literally “garbage” and doesn’t matter anymore. He has spent his life searching for God, but instead, God has found him. On the Road to Damascus, Christ makes Paul his own, and he responds to this in kind.

Paul “presses on” toward the goal. This phrase can better be translated as “pursuing” the goal. In the past he has pursued Christians, but Paul now pursues Christ. Like a hunter, he is patient and focused on the prize. While waiting in his jail cell he keeps his eyes trained on the hope of Resurrection.  What’s done is done. What’s past is past. He hasn’t yet reached the goal, and it will not be an easy road from here on out, but—as Paul says later on in the letter—“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”[3]

So…how does this passage apply to us today? All of us are on different stages of our faith journeys. The thing about journeys is that the way is not always straight or easy. There will be hills, turns, delays, and—especially in this area—we’re going to hit traffic. Part of being people of faith means wrestling with what we believe and being willing to ask really tough questions. It means coming to worship together and supporting each other in the various stages of our journeys. Everyone’s journey is unique, and everyone’s journey is valid, whether we come to church twice a year or come regularly and serve on the vestry.   

 

Paul is telling us that regardless of what measures we take to achieve righteousness, God isn’t keeping score. God loves us and wants to cultivate a relationship with us, and because Jesus became human, humbled himself to the point of death, and then conquered death in his resurrection, we have been restored to right relationship with God. It is not because of anything we personally have done, but because Christ is faithful, that we have been made righteous.

Faced with this incredible Good News of God’s grace, how are we going to respond? In baptism we are united “with Christ in his death and resurrection,” born “into God’s family the Church,” promised “forgiveness of sins,” and are granted “new life in the Holy Spirit.”[4] When we take part in the Eucharist each week, our sins are once again forgiven, the union with Christ we received at Baptism is strengthened, and we are given “a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.”[5] Equipped with this “spiritual food,” we are sent out “to love and serve [God] as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.”[6] We have been provided with everything we need, so “let us go forth into the world, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit!”[7]

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[1] Adapted from today’s Psalm, 19:14 
[2] Phil. 3:4b

[3] Phil. 4:13 

[4] BCP 858 

[5] BCP 859-860

[6] BCP 366

[7] BCP 366

Images are a scrambling of my sermon from the site Wordle.net