Beloved of God,

Fall is in the air, and in this election year that means a good deal of attention on the air to campaigns for office at every level, as well as referendums and initiatives on the ballot. Of particular attention in our state is Referendum 74 on marriage. We’ll be hosting a congregational forum on this referendum September 9th after worship. I hope you’ll come. The gospel for that Sunday comes from Mark 7, the story of Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman. (Read quote above.)

Do you feel yourself cringing at this story the way I do? “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” OUCH! Even 20 centuries after the fact, his words still sting. Here is a view of a Jesus we hardly ever see, and it’s a bit disconcerting to say the least. He seems prepared to dismiss this woman and send her away with nothing. It’s easy to imagine the woman leaving that house humiliated and ashamed; kicking herself for thinking that Jesus would somehow be different than the others. But if this woman is caught off guard by Jesus’ rejoinder, she doesn’t show it! Without missing a beat she delivers the best comeback in the entire New Testament:

“Lord,” she says, “you may look upon us as dogs, but even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

As silence envelops the room, Jesus takes in her words and is challenged to re-evaluate whom he has been called to serve, to revisit the boundaries between Jew and Gentile and to move beyond an ancient barrier.

In every other encounter recorded in the gospels, Jesus wins the debate. But here this mother bests him. His NO becomes a YES. “For saying that,” he tells her, “you may go. The demon has left your daughter.”

I once heard Presbyterian missionary Harold Kurtz speak powerfully of how the gospel serves as a catalyst of transformation in every culture it encounters. He shared an experience he’d had with the Maji, a people who sit at the bottom rung of the ladder, ethnically, culturally, and economically, in Ethiopia. The Maji are people of the land, who stay as far away from the modern world as they can and are treated like second-class citizens by their fellow Ethiopians. When they come in to market to buy something to drink, they are forbidden from drinking out of a glass like all other customers. Instead, they must bring a leaf and it is into that leaf that the market vendor pours their drink. Harold had an opportunity to go to a Maji settlement and speak with the people who had been learning the gospel story. In the midst of the meeting, one man from the community rose to speak.

LOOK AT ME, he told Harold. And pointing at himself, he asked: IS THIS A FACE OF A DOG? IS MY FACE LIKE THAT OF AN ANIMAL? IS NOT MY FACE A HUMAN FACE? ARE NOT MY EYES AND EARS AND NOSE THOSE OF A HUMAN? YET, he told Harold, WE ARE TREATED LIKE DOGS. BUT I AM LEARNING THAT THERE IS ONE WHO DOES NOT SEE ME AS A DOG, BUT AS HIS CHILD. I AM LEARNING THAT IN THE HEART OF GOD I AM WORTHY OF LOVE.

The story of the encounter between Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman could easily have been tossed out by early Christians as an unfavorable portrayal of the one they had come to know as their Lord and God. But it wasn’t. The story was remembered and passed on. There is something here that is fundamental to understanding the gospel. And if we, dear sisters and brothers, can witness Jesus himself growing in his understanding of how wide God’s mercy and justice extend, can we not imagine ourselves, too, being changed? It’s worth thinking about.

When it comes to politics, our choices on candidates and referendums will never be unanimous. But as citizens and as people called to be salt, light, and leaven, we ought to grapple with the questions nonetheless. And as we grapple, it will be our “duty and delight” to be generous with one another, practicing the arts of listening and loving as a witness to the world of the sure bond between those who follow Christ.

With you on the way,

Pastor Erik

Beloved of God,

The invitation to retreat to desert places for rest and renewal is as old as the scriptures. So, too, is the testimony that in places such as these one might expect to encounter the Sacred and discover one’s true vocation. While the invitation to deserted places may be daunting to the “extroverts” among us whose spirits are fed by interactions with other people, for those of us who are “introverts,” the lure of a quiet place apart has innate appeal. So when my in-laws spoke of an orthodox monastery in the desert east of Phoenix we ought to visit, I immediately was intrigued.

Our first attempt to locate the turnoff for St. Anthony’s Greek Orthodox Monastery southeast of Florence, Arizona, was thwarted by conflicting directions. But after a quick stop at a Pinal County Sheriff’s substation we found our way there and spent the better part of the day strolling through the grounds and marveling at the resplendent chapels, the old world icons, and the resolve of the monks who, in seventeen short years, had transformed this desert wilderness into an oasis and a destination for Orthodox pilgrims from around the world.

The six monks who arrived in the Sonora desert from Greece in 1995 on a mission from Elder Ephraim to establish a new monastery surely must have wondered how, exactly, they would accomplish such a feat in an environment where summer temperatures routinely exceed 110º F. But experiencing the harsh realities of desert life while laboring to build a sustainable and sustaining common life was nothing new for the members of this ancient order. They carried with them both a deep faith in the abiding presence of Christ and the sacred heritage of the Holy Mount Athos, in Greece, whose monastic spiritual foundation was in turn traceable to third century desert Father St. Anthony. This deep tradition would see them through; and indeed, as we observed, it has. Today, the monastery has seven distinct chapels, each with a different architectural style, each populated with icons from Greece and imbued with the aroma of incense and the aura of chanted Word. To enter them was to enter another world; which is precisely the point.

There are many ways we can live as Christians in the world. The community we visited that April morning is one of them. I have nothing but profound respect for the discipline and commitment such a life requires. But my call is different than theirs: to be part of a community that finds its primary vocation not in withdrawal from the world but in engagement in the world in the name of Christ and for the sake of the neighbor. Still, deserted places and wildernesses play an important role in sustaining me for ministry. One such place where some of us will be heading soon is Holden Village, a place apart where a rich and complex experience of community and individual solitude are both possible.

When the “sent ones” (apostles) returned to Jesus after their first mission, Jesus recognized the excitement in their voices as they shared their stories. He also recognized how important renewal would be for them if their efforts were to be sustainable over the long haul. So he issued them an invitation: “come away by yourselves and rest.” We all need to heed that invitation.

For a good number of us, summertime is when that refreshment happens and often it is accompanied by sojourns to new and/or familiar places that allow us the space and silence to hear our own heart beat and enter into a rhythm of renewal. Where will you find your rest this summer; your oasis? Whatever forms your quest for renewal takes; wherever these weeks find you, know that you do not travel alone. Christ goes with you. And calls you, and calls me, to come back to the places and patterns that will refresh us and revitalize us; giving us life.

With you on the way,

Pastor Erik

Beloved of God,

Music shapes us, and shapes us profoundly.  It’s the universal language that captures and conveys so many of our experiences and emotions, our desires and aspirations as human beings.  Who among us could not cite a telling moment from our personal history which is inseparably linked with a particular song?  On our trek to school each day, Kai and I have a variety of recordings from which we choose.  One of these, a compilation CD, has a smattering 70’s music—including Earth, Wind, and Fire’s Sing a Song (!)—that never fail to get me moving.  A couple beats in and it’s the fall of 1975 and I’m back at Hong Hall on the PLU campus for the first college dorm dance.  On the other hand, the slightest hint of a Ralph Vaughn Williams’ choral work transports me to churches and concert halls around the country where I lived and breathed music while on tour with PLU’s Choir of the West.

Whether you’re a person who falls captive first to the melody of a song or first to its lyric, the marriage of the two has the power to transform.  Brother Martin (Luther, that is) knew this well when he wrote:

“I wish to see all arts, principally music, in the service of Him who gave and created them. Music is a fair and glorious gift of God. I would not for the world forego my humble share of music. Singers are never sorrowful, but are merry, and smile through their troubles in song. Music makes people kinder, gentler, more staid and reasonable. I am strongly persuaded that after theology there is no art than can be placed on a level with music; for besides theology, music is the only art capable of affording peace and joy of the heart…the devil flees before the sound of music almost as much as before the Word of God.”  

When the emotional depth which music expression provides is combined with the keenest verbal expressions of our Christian faith, the combination carries us to places we just couldn’t arrive at by any other path.

For the past nearly 30 and 20 years, respectively, Sandy King and Jim Miersma have served faithfully and tirelessly as music ministers at Peace, sharing their musical gifts within our worship life and profoundly shaping the life we share as a community of faith.  They’ve weathered pastoral changes, choir director changes, hymnal changes, and myriad other changes that come with the territory of being a church musician, and they’ve done it with sincerity, collegiality, style and aplomb.   We owe them a great debt of gratitude!  When you have two organists who get along with each other so well and so long, and who are so easy to work with, you can get spoiled!   It’s truly been a joy to work with you both.  We can only hope that the person who succeeds you will be primed to carry on in the same vein as you a legacy musicianship, teamwork, and dedicated service to Christ’s church.

Thanks Jim and Sandy!  And Godspeed.  

Soli Deo Gloria

Pastor Erik

NOTE: A celebration of Music Ministry at Peace take place at Peace on Sunday, June 3rd beginning at 10:30 am worship.  Worship will be followed by a luncheon marking Sandy and Jim’s combined 50 years of music ministry at Peace.  All are welcome.

Beloved of God,

“Geocaching.” Ever heard the term? If the answer is NO, there’s a good chance you don’t own a smart phone or spend much time on the internet. It’s a word that was coined twelve years ago this month when, on May 2, 2000, at approximately midnight, Eastern Time, the great blue switch* controlling selective signal availability was flipped. Twenty four satellites orbiting the globe processed their new orders, and instantly the accuracy of global positioning system (GPS) technology improved tenfold, and tens of thousands of GPS receivers around the world had an instant upgrade. By locking on to any three orbiting satellites the GPS could now triangulate your position to an exact location almost anywhere on the globe.

“Geocaching,” first coined on May 30th of that year, is the joining of two familiar words: the prefix GEO, for Earth, and CACHING, from the word CACHE. “Cache” has two different meanings: (1) The French word invented in 1797 refers to a hiding place one would use to temporarily store items (think voyageurs and pirates). (2) The contemporary, technological term refers to computer storage capacity used to quickly retrieve frequently used information. Simply put, geocaching is a real-world outdoor treasure hunting game in which players try to locate hidden containers, called geocaches, using GPS-enabled devices and then share their experiences online. [Want to learn more? Go to: http://www.geocaching.com]

I got my first taste of geocaching the last Saturday of April when I headed to Vashon Island with Nicole K and five confirmands for a day-long “roving” retreat. There the seven of us (Ike, K2, Kyle, Noah, Stuart, Nicole, and me) found ourselves staring at the screen on Nicole’s iPhone, with one blinking dot telling us YOU ARE HERE, and another one pinpointing the location of the secret cache we were seeking. During the course of our five geocaches quests we posed with Cool Gary, avoided (barely) confrontations with NRA zealots (the sign with the revolver read: “Nothing I own is worth your life”), searched for clues left in rusted out boat hulls, and traipsed through old forests and thickets of nettles—all the while searching for the hidden treasure.

Sometimes the treasure cache was simply a small waterproof container with a log sheet we could sign indicating, “we were here.” Other times, in addition to a log, the cache contained tokens left by folks who’d been there before us. One cache contained a geo-token that we were invited to transport to another cache location, and then register the token’s key on a website, so that the originator could map his/her token’s cross country journey over time. The possibilities are endless…what a gas!

Throughout the Easter season the Sunday readings from Acts address the questions: What does the Spirit of the risen Christ do, unleashed into the world? Where does it go? What effect does it have? Whom does it touch? Each story in these opening chapters bears witness to Christ’s living presence and the Spirit’s transforming work in the fledging church. Each chapter invites and enlists us as witnesses—(as opposed to bystanders!)—who share in God’s mission of bringing gospel treasure into the neighborhoods and communities in which we live.

Here in Acts, with heart and mind locked on the Spirit, we find ourselves traveling to the heart of Jerusalem as a multilingual crowd suddenly hears good news in language they can understand; we see the disciple community practicing care for each other in such a way that no one has need; we peer into the once-useful begging bowl of a once-crippled man whose life and future have been given a new lease in Jesus’ name; we witness the bold courage of Peter and John refusing to be cowed by the institutional powers-that-be; we ride with an Ethiopian emissary as Philip comes alongside him, becoming his tutor and baptizer. On and on the Spirit goes, gaining momentum through ever widening circles, crossing boundaries once considered unassailable, and carrying us along in her wake. No stone is left unturned (or unrolled), no stump unsearched, no place is too remote. The gospel’s trajectory is unstoppable!

All these stories testify to the existence of true treasure and, like geocaching, give us routes to follow. But there’s one big difference. When you’re geocaching, the treasure, the goal, is beyond you and it’s up to you to read the clues and follow the signal until you find it. But when it comes to this journey of faith, the treasure, it turns out, comes to us! The One Triune God—triangulating via the divine global positioning system—locks on to each and every one of us and tirelessly seeks us out, emptying heaven to make contact. From all indications, God isn’t done playing yet. In fact, I have it on good authority that God won’t stop until every last one of us blinking dots has been linked back to the Source of love and has found its way home.  What an adventure we share! Thanks be to God!

Pastor Erik