Beloved of God,

Well, we’re still here—in spite of the latest prediction of the world’s demise. (This one by Christian radio broadcaster Harold Camping.)  What does that mean?  Apparently, God’s plan for SHALOM isn’t complete, and God still has work for the church to do.  Surprise, surprise.

Jesus promised the Spirit would be unleashed in the world.  So, where do we look to find evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work with/through/and among God’s faithful people?  The last month has provided some poignant and powerful examples.  If you were in worship last Sunday, May 29^th, you experienced one of them.  Little Maeve, age 4, couldn’t contain herself when she heard the melody for a song she knew begin playing during communion.  She skipped down the aisle to the Lord’s Table in her irrepressible way singing it, “Jesus loves me this I know.” And then, after we all had received a taste of that love, she piped up from the back corner of the nave—this time solo—singing the song which so filled her being that the rest of us couldn’t help but join in singing it once more! “Yes, Jesus loves me!…”

Worship on May 15^th took us to the other end of the “youth” spectrum, with high school and middle school youth taking on many of the leadership roles within our worship service.  Among them were seniors Elizabeth Menstell and Sofia Wagner who, with some help from freshman Lucille Bermes, delivered one powerful sermon on Good Shepherd Sunday. Who will soon forget Sofia’s image of God’s care for us, aptly illustrated by way of her own experience as the caretaker of a trio of flighty, hair-infesting chickens:

“You know what? Even if “the birds” (as we call them at my house) are misbehaving, I’m still going to take care of them. When I signed up for this, I knew what I was getting into. I knew that they wouldn’t always be so cute and innocent, but I’m still going to nurture and care for them…For me, that’s how God is. It’s easy to know that God loves good people… or innocent people… or godly people… but they aren’t the only ones. He’s still there when we mess up. And we’re going to mess up. We ARE messed up. He might not like what we do sometimes, but He’ll never turn away from us.”

Or Elizabeth, summarizing her journey toward choosing a college and preparing for life’s next adventure:

“Our favorite leader of the protestant revolution, Martin Luther, once said ‘I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God’s hands, that I still possess.’  With…our future in our shepherd’s hands, green pastures are sure to be found. Whether those pastures are a university, the decision of public, private, or homeschool for our kids, a job, or an assisted-living residence, we can be sure that our lives can be secure with trust in God…We may not know where we are going or maybe even why, but our Good Shepherd does and it’s His voice that we are to follow. … With trust in our shepherd, this time does not have to be scary but can be exhilarating.”   (To read the full text of the sermon on our website, follow this link.) 

See what I mean?  There are other signs, for sure, daily ones—if we only learn to recognize them.  For often enough they come incognito—hidden—as God himself once came. Our task is not to make predictions about when it all will end, or to judge who will find joy and who will find sorrow on that day.  Our task is to keep reminding each other and anyone else who will listen that God is not finished with us yet; that there is still time to love and forgive, to hope and to sing.

This month marks, for me, the 25^th anniversary of ordination to Word and Sacrament ministry.  There were many things that drew me to service in Christ’s church.  First among them was the conviction that against the backdrop of harrowing need and profound brokenness, the world needed to hear—to experience—the healing presence of God-with-us.  Through the years it’s been my privilege to bear that message, earthen vessel that I am.  Over and again I’ve also been blessed to be on the receiving end from too many people to count.  Whether in brief, fleeting moments or via broad, sustained ministries, the Spirit of God uses it—uses us—all, credentialed and uncredentialed—to get the word out that he’s in love with the world and determined to stick with us, come hell and high water; and by golly, we—chosen and precious, sinner and saint—ought to do the same.

With hope and gratitude,

Pastor Erik

Beloved of God,

Christ is risen!  Alleluia!  What a joy to utter these words once and ever more.  The tomb the women came to see is empty; the body they came to tend is gone.  What can this mean?  During the seven weeks of the Easter season we explore that question and its myriad permutations.  We hear how the risen Jesus came speaking “peace” to a disciple community huddled in fear.  We watch as the risen Lord companions two travelers on the road to Emmaus, opening the Scriptures to them and, finally, opening their eyes in the breaking of the bread.  We witness the transformation of a fledgling community proclaiming Christ’s resurrection and embodying the Way of life he taught.  And we ask, how will the resurrection of Jesus give shape and purpose to my life and to the life we share together in the community of faith?

The momentum for mission conveyed in Matthew’s final chapter and in Luke’s second volume—The Acts of the Apostles–testifies with bold, powerful strokes to the power which Christ’s resurrection and the gift of the Spirit unleash in the world.  On one level, these witnesses make the whole story of our faith’s founding sound automatic; as easy as falling off a log.  But a careful look shows us there is more to it than that.  For example, when Matthew tells how the eleven apostles gathering with Jesus in Galilee after his resurrection, he writes:  “When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.”  [Mt 28:17]  It would have been so easy for Matthew to leave out the part about “doubt,” but he includes it.  Why?  Perhaps in part to tell those of us who come to the story generations later that grappling with doubt comes with the territory of faith.

Nigel Weaver’s marvelous hymn (above) captures beautifully the process by which followers of Christ—both ancient and modern—come to faith.  Often enough it is through fits and starts.  Nonetheless, because of Christ’s faithful commitment to those whose “faith still wavers,” who “fail to understand,” God’s mission abides.

As we engage our RE/VISION process in earnest this month here at Peace, we do well to remember from whence the impulse to be about God’s work with our hands comes—ever and always from the Risen One.  You’ll note elsewhere in this edition some specifics about opportunities to join with other Peace people at specific “Listening Posts” which have been set up by the Re/Vision Task Force.  There are many new faces and voices in our congregation since the last Vision process in 2006.  We want to make certain all can bring their voices and ideas and promptings to one of these gatherings.  The greater the participation, the more authentic our process will be, and the better we’ll be able to articulate our call as a congregation to “walk and serve and stand” as servants of our risen Lord in a world in great need of hope, love, and healing .  Please check your calendar and sign up so that you will be able to participate in these important conversations as we develop our Vision for Mission for the coming 5-10 years.

Living in resurrection hope,

Pastor Erik

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days…he said, “Take away the stone”…and he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” – John 11:17, 39, 44

Beloved of God,

I don’t know about you, but I’m as eager as ever for Easter to arrive.  The tragic and depressing news that dominates the headlines these days—from Japan to Libya and points between—only increases my appetite for good news…and not a diversion or a fantasy, but the real thing.  It’s not that I expect suddenly on Easter that all that ails the world will magically be cured.  The gospels themselves testify to the fear and disorientation that attended the disciple community when they first heard news of an empty tomb.  It’s simply that when I look at all that’s happening around the world, and when I visit the bedsides of those, closer to home, for whom death draws near, my soul longs for the affirmation that this is not the end of it all.  I know I’m not alone in that hope.

During the three Sundays before Palm/Passion Sunday (April 17), our gospel lessons from St. John’s help us move toward that hope.  Each story—Jesus and the Samaritan woman, Jesus and the man born blind, Jesus and the raising of Lazarus—gives us insight into who Jesus is and how God’s work in him brings new hope and possibilities to skeptical, world-weary minds.  Each story speaks to the process of transformation that attends our lives in Christ.  And each story has profound baptismal significance.  Together they have served as the church’s “core curriculum” for centuries for those preparing for baptism at the Easter Vigil.

The last of these texts comes from the 11^th chapter of John: the raising of Lazarus.  In the climax of this story, Jesus stands before the tomb, calls for the entrance stone to be removed, and calls Lazarus out by name.  Miraculously, frightfully, Lazarus comes out, still bound in his burial clothes.  This is no trick but the raw power of God.  Jesus has performed many signs: water into wine, sight for a blind man, healing of lepers and paralytics, loaves and fishes for multitudes; but this act of raising Lazarus is beyond them all.  And it’s too much for some people to take!  In the verses immediately succeeding this story, John tells us how the raising of Lazarus galvanizes those who oppose Jesus.  His act of wringing life from death is an act that will ironically lead directly to his own death.

Jesus’ instructions to “unbind Lazarus and let him go” are meant for the church to hear. Like Lazarus, we need both to be freed from the deadly powers of sin that form the walls of our tombs, and to be the ones Christ calls upon to unbind others and let them go.  The words we speak; our interactions with friends, family, stranger; how we respond to the binding forces of evil in our community and world—all these provide testimony on the question: are we living as those who have been freed by Christ and liberated to be agents of hope and service in his world?

As we accompany Christ on the journey toward the cross in these final weeks, as we see him being lifted up on the cross for the sake of the world, and as we enter into the astonishing surprise of his resurrection, we are called to place all our trust in the one God who has the power to bring us from death to life; to unbind us and let us go.

While the disaster in Japan and the burgeoning conflict in Libya trade headlines.  While Egypt’s transformation and continued calls for democratic reforms echo within the Arab world.  While enemies of light stalk each other in Israel, Afghanistan and Iraq.  While the sinkhole which is our state budget claims more victims, and while we continue to haggle over the Tunnel, tolls, and taxes, Christ’s faithful community celebrates the true life—the only life—which has the power to interrupt the litany of death.

I can’t wait for Easter; for the privilege of proclaiming: CHRIST IS RISEN!—HE IS RISEN INDEED, ALLELUIA!

Blessings on the way.

Pastor Erik

“As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.” – Galatians 3:27

Beloved of God,

It’s become a favorite of our children and their friends.  Whenever they bring playmates over, they inevitably head for the basement.  That’s where all the cool stuff is: a growing Legos collection, an assortment of puppets, a wooden railroad set, a child’s kitchen, and—the best prize of all—the dress up trunk.

Chris and I acquired the trunk at a LATCH auction a couple years back.* A team of folks had taken it upon themselves to fill the trunk to the brim with dress up clothes designed to evoke imaginative play in young minds: high heeled shoes of great variety; party dresses, fancy hats, vests and ties, sequined blouses, even a feather boa.  (Yes, it was weighted toward female tastes…)  It was the one thing that caught our imaginations, so when its number came up, up went our bid card, and—surprise—we ended the evening shoe-horning a huge steamer trunk into the back seat of our compact!

The thing about playing dress up is that when kids don new clothes, they not only try on a different look, they try on a different identity, too.  They “make believe.”  We love this exercise because it allows us to glimpse areas of our kids’ personalities that might otherwise be hidden.  Whatever issues they may to be wrestling with at that moment in their lives come out in the ensuing dialog, and we learn something new about what’s happening at their core.

In the passage above from Galatians, Paul uses the term, “clothing yourselves in Christ” or “putting on Christ” as a metaphor for baptism.  What does this mean? Brother Martin says PUTTING ON CHRIST has two meanings: First, to “put on Christ” means to imitate the example of Christ—to want to be like him.  Second, to “put on Christ” means to cross the threshold to a whole new world where Christ becomes our garment.

In our worship life this month we make a turn from the season of Light to the season of Lent, and in that turning we mark a RE-turn to the roots of our faith life, to our baptism. When we step forward to receive the ashen cross on our foreheads, we hear the words: “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  What kind of clothes do people who are made of dust wear?  Adam’s clothes…Eve’s.

“We were dressed in the leather garment of Adam,” Luther wrote, “which is a deadly garment and the clothing of sin….The “old person”…must be put off with all his activities so that from [children] of Adam we may be changed into [children] of God.  This does not happen by a change of clothing… but by the rebirth that takes place in baptism….For in those who have been baptized a new light and flame arises; new and devout emotions come into being, such as fear and trust in God and hope, and a new will emerges.  This is that it means to put on Christ properly, truly, and according to the Gospel.” [1]

When we begin our life journey as human beings, our first clothing is that of Adam and Eve.  But in the great Bath at the font that ragged outfit is exchanged for a completely new wardrobe!  We “put on Christ”—and that changes everything—changes it for us, and it changes for God.  When we look in the mirror we no longer see the old person, we see a new self.  And not only do we see a new person, God does too.   When we “put on Christ” in baptism, we become—in the eyes of God—a beloved son or daughter through and through, the old Adam, the old Eve, are gone.

Being clothed in Christ changes the way we see, too.  God issues us new eyes.  When we look at one another through those eyes, we see the Christ in each other.  All the personality quirks and pet peeves that bother us move to the background.  Even the old boundaries that used to define us: gender, race, ethnicity, define us no longer.  Not that they disappear, but the envy, hate, prejudice, are put aside.

When Kai and Naomi put on dress up clothes, they take on new identities.  The process works its way in from the outside…but it only lasts for a while before their attention turns to other things.  When we are baptized, Christ works on us from the inside out, and we are gifted with an identity and equipped with a way to see the world that has staying power through all of life’s stages.

An invitation: as we make our turn into the season of Lent, spend some portion of these 40 days puzzling over what it means for you to “put on Christ.”  Then, choose a practice that will remind you of that identity each day.

Joy for the journey.

Pastor Erik

______________

*LATCH stands for Lutheran Alliance to Create Housing, a precursor to the Compass Housing Alliance.

[1] Luther’s Works, Volume 26: Lectures on Galatians.  Pp. 352-353.

All that remains is the doing. We’ve said our piece.  Expressed our opinions. Given voice to our anxieties.  Articulated our principles and perspectives. Our annual meeting in January had more passionate speech than any other in the six years of my tenure at Peace.  This is a good thing. We muddled through together, and I’m grateful for that. I’ve always been nervous at the lack of conversation about budgets at previous meetings.  Silence in the face of the choices and priorities embodied in a budget is not a good thing.

It can be a sign of good health when members of a community define their positions—especially when the positions aren’t universally  shared—and at the same time stay connected.  Exercising these “muscles” in this “body of Christ” can be a stretching experience.   It may leave us feeling a bit sore, but in the end it will make us stronger as long as we take care of each other during the process.  When we exercise our gifts to build up the body (rather than tearing it down), the whole body benefits; it helps to build our collective “immune system” and to strengthen us against the kind of threats that can weaken or even destroy communities.  So we keep on growing…we keep on learning…we build our resilience…we grow more capacity for the tasks ahead.

The images we saw on the screen at our meeting, the numbers on paper, the words on the pages of our annual reports, the names of the newly elected to council and task force—all these count, all these matter.  But they are—all of them—PRELUDE.  Now that the meeting is over, the show, the liturgy, the dance (abun-dance?), the mission commences. All that remains is the doing; all that remains is putting it into practice—putting our talent and energy where our heart is, and our money where our mouth is; doing “God’s work” with “our hands;” practicing what we preach.  Are you ready for that?!

When Jesus sent his apprentices off on their first mission trip they were still wet-behind-the-ears learners.  They had mastered nothing.  In fact, much of what he’d taught them they failed to understand.  But Jesus didn’t hold them back for more course work; he didn’t keep them in school until a more appropriate time.  No—he sent them out, knowing that it was in the doing that they would learn the most about themselves, their gifts and limitations, the world’s hunger for wholeness, and the unbelievable power that belongs to all who are companioned by the Spirit of God.  Jesus set basic boundaries around where his apprentices should go and what they should be about, and then he sent them off.  That’s where we are.  All that remains (all!) is the doing.

In her provocative book, Jesus Freak, Sara Miles asks, “what would it mean to live as if you—and everyone around you—were Jesus, and filled with his power?  To just take his teachings literally, go out the front door of your home, and act on them?”  “Jesus,” she writes, “does not, anywhere in the Gospels, spend too much time calling his people to have feelings, or ideas, or opinions.  He calls us to act: hear these words of mine, and act on them.”

Time to get crackin’.

Pastor Erik

Sara Miles, Jesus Freak. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2010) pp. ix, xiv