Sermons

I suppose what I am saying is that I don’t necessarily believe Jesus’ last words were about what we are supposed to do, or how we are going to do it, or when and if he’s coming back. Yes, we have been given instruction. But more importantly, we’ve been given affirmation and assurance. God has empowered and blessed us. And whatever the task, whatever the time, whatever the result, wherever the place, whenever the hour, God will be there with us. Today is also Trinity Sunday. And we do our best to explain this miraculous God of ours – God is a Father or Parent, and at the same time a Son or the Christ, and further still God is Spirit – creating, redeeming, sustaining. And I won’t argue the point – God is all of those things and more. But on this Trinity Sunday, I choose to stick with another name: I AM WHO I WILL BE.

When the choir sings, when the people smile, when the peace is passed, when the ushers and greeters offer hugs, when Dorcas completes another quilt, or Gerald files another of Gloria’s treasures into the library catalog, or Ellen flies by us like a hummingbird seeking to beautify the next thing that needs tending on the grounds, or we hear crockpots clanking at the potluck supper, the Spirit has new voice, new expression, new language. The winds blow at our backs, the flame warms our hearts, the ground shakes beneath us. Easter, and Ascension, and Pentecost are as new as ever. Good news, Millbrook, the Spirit has arrived, the Church has been born. It’s our birthday! We can celebrate in every language, every day of the year. May we speak this good news this day and every day.  Amen.

The Ascension was not the conclusion of the redemptive work of Jesus. It marked the handing over of his mission and ministry to his disciples and in turn to their disciples and on down the line to include each of us gathered here. It is an opportunity for all of us, generation to generation, to share the love of Jesus with someone else. Today we focus not on Jesus’ departure from us but on his continued presence among us. That is the paradox – in his ascending we know the presence of Jesus through the gift of the Holy Spirit that descends on us and blesses our lives.

Here’s what I believe today’s text is asking us to do. It’s simple to identify, credential, and celebrate a form of love that is clearly defined. Jesus loves me, this I know. Because I see him. And I hug him. And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known. But so much of what we experience is not defined, not binary, not precise, not exacting. The Spirit gives us the tools to engage all that which is fluid. We do not seek to define motherhood; we seek to acknowledge and affirm what is mothering. We do not define worship, or prayer, or Church. We seek to acknowledge that which brings us closer to God and one another, that which helps us to express our true selves. We do not seek to define love, we seek to value that which is lovely.

Yes, Jesus lives. That’s amazing, but so is the how of the revelation. We know that Jesus lives, when like, Mary, we hear him call our names. We know that Jesus lives, when like those first disciples, he is revealed in the blessing and breaking of bread. We know that Jesus lives, when like Thomas, we get to see with our own eyes. And perhaps best of all, we are made to know, even when we can’t see with our own eyes, even when our journey is asynchronous, asymmetrical, and just-plain-messy.

I believe Psalm 23 is relevant in multiple contexts: God creates and shares space with God’s people. If it’s King David, there’s an assurance of a kinship where God’s people foster a community of faith and neighboring. God’s consistency abides, in the good times and the bad times, too. If the text is an exile setting, God is not only helping the returning exiles to find space in their old land, but God is also cultivating space for a new temple, where God’s community can build a future together. And if the psalmist lives today, perhaps God is telling us that new space is being cleared, physically, virtually, emotionally, spiritually for ours to be a banquet community.