Sermon Opoho Church Sunday 23rd September, 2012.

Readings:  James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a, Mark 9:30-37

Let us pray:

O God, may your word be spoken and received with open hearts and minds, that we may find your truth, your purpose in them for us.  Amen.

Last week we explored with fairly broad brush strokes the need to trust in the faithfulness and love of God, we talked of drawing on the wisdom of the cloud of witnesses that have gone before as well as remembering to take strength from who we are in Christ as this time.  All this so that we might have the hope and courage to step out into the somewhat unknown future that Christ invites us into. 

Perhaps we can put add some detail to those brush strokes today as we explore particularly the reading from the Gospel of Mark.

I want you to put yourselves into that moment in time, into Jesus shoes in fact and to do that effectively we need to look at what was happening in the biblical story in the days before.  At the beginning of Chapter 9 in Mark we have the transfiguration – a profoundly spiritual encounter with God, a time of glorious and spectacular affirmation of Christ as the Beloved.  And then it was back down to the valley – down to earth really – walking straight in to the failure of the remaining disciples to cast out the Spirit from the young boy.  Straight into a seemingly volatile crowd whose anger may have been encouraged by the scribes but mostly seemed to be fuelled by the inability of the disciples to practice what they preached. Jesus had to pick up the pieces, heal the boy, placate the crowd.  And from there we move to today’s passage where Jesus, having dealt to the evil spirit and the angst of the crowd, moves on to Galilee and tries to spend some quality teaching time with the disciples – to talk to them of what was to come – his betrayal, his death, his rising again.  And their response?  “They did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.”[1]  Instead they appear to have been arguing as to who was the greatest amongst them!  Surely, if ever, that was a time for Jesus to throw his toys out of the cot in despair. From a moment of sublime encounter with God to dealing with angry crowds and the low spirits of the failed disciples to speaking of the difficult and painful journey ahead – and they can only argue over which of them is the greatest?  Honestly!

Yet do we too not do this with regularity too? Not argue who is the greatest necessarily but exhaust ourselves in similarly unproductive debate when in fact Christ is standing there in from of us trying to teach us the truth of the love of God.  I cannot help but think of the passion, energy and focus that has been the leadership debate in PCANZ for the last, what, 15 years when Christ is begging us to get out there and reconcile, minister to this aching world.

What might be some of the debates we have that distract our attention from Christ, the things that prevent us listening to and understanding what it is that Christ is saying to us at Opoho?   To identify those is a discussion yet to be had, and will involve a heap of perspectives (in my previous church there was huge passion about whether we should have pews or chairs, hymnbook or OHP, shared ecumenical services  or not but little left over for mission in the community) – but whatever they are there is no doubt that the ‘who is the greatest’ type conversations can prevent us from following Christ’s  dynamic and radical teachings to be Church.

Why do we embrace these distractions, whatever they might be for us, so enthusiastically  –we can find some clues to that in the reading today.   “The disciples did not understand and were afraid to ask.”[2]   Is fear one of the major factors in our inability to respond to Christ’s challenge for us?  That speaks to me for certain, fear of rejection, of challenge, of opening up the vulnerable in me to others.    Fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of where Christ might lead us can be stultifying, can easily turn our energies to the selfish, the safe, the inward looking -  leaving little room for listening to and acting on the teachings of Christ.  

There is another clue in the reading about how we need to equip ourselves to be effective ministers of the gospel message.  We need to pray.  We cannot do it alone – just as the disciples failed to cure the boy on their own merits, so we too cannot make a difference in the world just by ourselves – they needed to pray, said Jesus, we need to pray and listen to what the Spirit is saying to us.  Actually this is an invidious little trap isn’t it?  If I just go out and be kind and just and caring, then I will be doing my bit.  It’s all very logical and well meaning - nothing wrong with that – but when we try to do things purely by our own effort we are not only limited but also like to be distracted.  In the power of prayer and therefore in the grace of an ever present God how much more can we and this world be transformed, how much more can we actually hear and understand and live those words of hope that the disciples missed – “and in three days he will rise again!”[3]

And the third clue I believe as to how we might stop being exhausted by debates that are making us deaf to the word of God is found towards the end of the Gospel reading – and actually, because Jesus rarely let an opportunity for teaching go by, it’s also a bit of a pointer as to how we might actually be ‘great’ for God.  He picked up a child and said “whoever welcomes one such child in my name, welcomes me and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me”. [4] Too often we interpret this statement as thinking we need to be innocent, simple in the sense of a child’s trust and clarity of thought, but I would encourage you to hear the words rather as telling us that we need to be focussing not on ourselves but on others – those beyond our circle who have need of us – the weak and the vulnerable – those who need a welcome rather than being shut out – and in the serving of those who are calling to us, we too will be opened up and make whole as a people of God.

So as we share together today in our Annual Meeting, as we begin to discuss how Opoho is looking to be Church over the next few years I wonder what our priority question here needs to be, where our passion will be directed. 

Is it “How can we survive?” or is it “How can we live out the mission of Christ in this community?  I believe that it is only when we have sorted that out that we can say ‘We are listening Christ, we hear you, send us and we will go for you into your future, whatever that might be!”  Thanks be to God

Margaret Garland

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[1] Mark 9:32 (NRSV)

[2] Mark 9:32 (NRSV)

[3] Mark 9:31 (NRSV)

[4] Mark 9:37 (NRSV)

Opoho Church Sermon Sunday 16th September, 2012

Bible Readings : Matthew 13:1-9, Genesis 1:1-13

Let us pray:  O God, may your word be spoken and received in the truth of Christ.  Amen.

Today, within the suggested celebration of Creation in our church lectionary, is the day when we focus on the sky above and around us.  To begin let me share this story from the first people of this land about the anchor and guide that is the Te Punga, the Southern Cross.

From the book ‘Stories from the Night Sky’[1]  Te Punga.

In the beginning, the stars came travelling across the sky, making new lights.  When Te Punga is lifted, they set sail again.  Each year they sail, voyaging  across the night skies and each year they return and settle, safe in their waka, with Te Punga below to anchor them.

In the beginning we came, travelling across the oceans, seeking new lands.  When Te Punga was lifted we followed the waka.  We read the stars and rode the oceans, feeling the pull of the anchor and rope.  Here we settled, safe in our new land, with Te Punga above to anchor us. 

In the beginning you came, riding on the shoulders of your ancestors, breathing new life.  When Te Punga is lifted, you watch the star’s voyage.  You watch the unfolding of the seasons and your ancestors as they journey along the great pathway.  You grow with every lifting and it is Te Punga you grow towards.

You may travel across oceans, you may voyage across skies, you may ride to the far corners of the world.  Always Te Punga will be there, anchoring you to your land.  And if the seasons turn cold and if the ancestors call, just feel the pull of the anchor and rope, and let it bring you home.

It seems to me that this story in one of togetherness, of the importance of the guiding stars in creation for both Maori and the European settlers who were to follow.  And I found a great deal to equate with our journeys as people of faith, with our searching and our exploration, our stepping into unknown waters, our need of a guide and anchor not only when things go wrong but also when we take positive steps into new and often uncharted ways.

And springtime is a very good time to explore new ideas and search for new understandings – what did the story say? – you grow with every lifting of Te Punga – you do not stay the same but continue to grow and evolve as the seasons march on.

But we do not forget either where we have come from – ‘you came, riding on the shoulders of your ancestors’ – steeped in their faith, their witness, their nurturing and their wisdom we are who we are today, able to explore safe in the guiding and wisdom of those who have gone before.

And, in venturing into the future whilst remembering where we have come from, we also do not forget who we are at this time, what anchors us together as community and as a people of God.  ‘Always, Te Punga will be there, anchoring you to your land.

It really is an evocative story, one that lends itself effectively to our journeys of life and faith and hope.

It struck me too that this story offers an insight into the Gospel reading today – that of the sower of the seed and the type of ground that the seed lands on.

There are few stories more familiar to us, - the seed that fell on the path, eaten by the birds; the rocky ground where they grew quickly but, without deep soil, fell over; the thorny ground, where the seed was overpowered by the strength of the thorns; and the good soil which produced great fruit.  Later in the chapter Matthew has Jesus explain the parable more fully – likening the path as the hearts openness to evil, the rocky ground as those vulnerable to trouble or persecution, the thorns as the choking power of the world, and the good soil as the one who hears and understands the word and bears fruit.

And there are few stories that we are more able to place ourselves in too – the rocky patches in our lives, the distracted and the shallow all appear in each and all of our stories I am sure.  These are the realities of the human life.

But perhaps the question to ask is what leads us into these less than fruitful places and is there anything we can do about it.

Maybe a possible answer lies in another question – do we see these bad patches resulting from our failure to grasp the truth or failure to trust the truth?  It is suggested that this is the essential difference between the Matthew and Mark versions of this parable – in Mark, Jesus is scolding the disciples for not getting it, for their failure to understand what Jesus is saying in the parable; whereas Matthew seems to suggest that the people get the parable alright, it’s just that they have trouble living by it, trouble trusting what they understand.

And I wonder if this is something we can relate to?  I am reminded of the waka voyages that are taking place in the Pacific at the moment – where 21^st century voyagers are choosing to navigate by the stars – the way that their ancestors used to - and I wonder, if we were somehow able to ask both the ancient and the modern navigators, who would have more difficulty: those of high technology who have learned to trust in the stars of their ancestors or those of old if we asked them to trust to the instrumentation that modern sailors use.  I suspect the stars would win – not because we do invention/technology/modern instrumentation badly but because those stars have proven their faithfulness, unchanging over time and space; they have been a beacon of hope and direction throughout human history.  It’s not too much of a leap to liken that to our trust in God is it and maybe answer our question of how we might trust God a little more. 

It is quite remarkable, when we trouble to think about it, how much of our trust in God is anchored in the witness of those who have gone before, those who have journeyed in the light of Christ throughout time and yes, too those who trusted God before the Christian era began.  I believe that it is when we replace that myriad witness with our conveniently modernistic interpretation of what it means to be church, the body of Christ, that we not only find our trust in the presence and power of God diminishing but also find it more difficult to step out into the unknown possibilities of the future.  Let me expand a little into what is a huge area of conversation.  Much of our understanding of what it means to be church for the last few hundred years has been almost exclusively based on the premise of  what has been called ‘chronological egotism’ – that we will get better at being church as time and human skills advance – potentially until we no longer need God some might argue.  We discovered this throughout our August study series on cringe words – how much we have lost or re-created the meaning of core biblical tenets of faith to our modern convenience, convenient in that we can contain and therefore often reject their meaning for our Christian lives.  Yet we say we live in and commit to the Christ made known in the Gospels and explored in the early church – but still hold on to doctrines and understandings of God that have been heavily influenced by our culture, our relationship with the state, our very human responses to threat and change and challenge as church.  And it has confined us, diminished us somehow so that we find we are valuing modern navigation over the creative timelessness of the one we call God.

We at Opoho are coming to a time when we will have to take some very big steps of faith into the unknown, trusting that God will guide us and anchor us in how we will be church, be the good soil for Christ.  And I suspect our ability to trust God and each other will be tested quite severely at times – those rocky roads and shallow soils and thorny grounds will seem like safe havens almost – but in the presence of Christ, through the teaching of the Gospel and with all the cloud of witnesses at our side we can and will hold true to the true mission of this church and this people – thanks be to God.

Margaret Garland

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[1] Melanie Drewery (author), Jenny Cooper (illus.).  Stories from our Night Sky.Puffin Books, 2009

Sermon Sunday 2nd September, 2012 Opoho Church

Readings: James 1:17-27, Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Let us pray:  God who welcomes all people and challenges us to live in the way of Christ, may your word for us be both comforting and disturbing, that we may better be a transformed and transforming community in Jesus name.  Amen.

Isn’t it interesting and a little uncanny when something that you have been pondering during the week appears really strongly in the readings for Sunday – this has happened to me often and it is no different today.  On Wednesday night we spent an hour and a half at study group trying to get a handle on what is meant by righteousness – and came up with a variety of understandings and interpretations – for me the best way to understand it was as living in right relationship with God and each other.  I had a quiet chuckle when, in preparing for this sermon, I realised that the letter of James and those of Paul also have a somewhat different take on what it means to live in righteousness.  They would have fitted into our study group rather well!  Whereas James saw righteousness as faith intricately co-existing with works, Paul tended more to understand it as a place that faith alone brought you to and out of which works would come.  As I read further I found that not only was the word righteousness up for debate but they both had variations on the meaning and practice of what was meant by faith and works.  Faith or belief for Paul is primarily trust in God with works seen as a somewhat separate practice; for James faith and belief is more about assenting to ideas about God, ie agreeing that God exists, to which personal commitment and relationship needs to be added.  He says in support of this viewpoint – ‘even the demons believe’[1].  You may be feeling a trifle confused there and that is not surprising – and of course I have made some fairly large generalisations or perspective there which you may or may not agree with.  But what it does illustrate that then and now there are different understandings of what it means to live in or receive righteousness – to be in right relationship with God.

In fact it was light-heartedly postulated on Wednesday night that maybe, just maybe we shouldn’t talk at all about God – it was just too hard to come to agreement on what words and concept meant, to ‘get’ all the nuances and ‘lose’ all the enculturated meanings that are attached to the words we use to share our faith and beliefs.  But that wouldn’t do, for it is in the talking and discussing and exploring of these everyday words that we come to a deeper and more meaningful  relationship with God and who it is that God wants us to be.   

So I am going to run with James’ take on righteousness for a little while and see where that takes us – that of where belief/faith are inextricably entwined with what we say do and be.   And the reason I suggest this is that the people he was preaching to, probably around 60AD, and those who would have read this letter were in a not dissimilar position in society to us today.  These early Jewish Christian groups were a tiny minority existing within large populations that were at the best indifferent or at worst exceedingly hostile to their beliefs.  That is no different.  They were also people who within living memory had been part of an established recognised institution of belief, one that held some considerable sway in the habits and attitudes of their societies.  That holds considerable truth for us.  James was concerned at the impact of the surrounding population on the fledgling faith – that they would fall back into the values and behaviour of the majority when Christ was calling them to live a radically different life, one that was often at odds with the greater society in which they lived.  Sound familiar as well?

And I am going to be slightly, well probably more than slightly, controversial and invite us to think about all of these things in light of the marriage bill that is before Parliament at the moment and our responses to it.  Where sits our right relationship with God and each other in the midst of this very real situation? 

It seems to me that we have gotten ourselves in a right old pickle over this and that to some extent we are actually debating the wrong issue.  When I get over my annoyance at the media telling me that I am against it because I am a Christian, I begin to focus on some of the aspects of the debate that trouble me as a Christian attempting to live a life that is reflecting my faith in God and deeply determined by the new life that is Christ Jesus.

My first thought is: what is with this fixation on sexual issues – for me right living is about grace and forgiveness and fighting injustice and taking stands on greed and violence and exploitation – now if those abuses are within a sexual relationship, whatever that might be, they need to be challenged.  Where love, faithfulness, care flourish in relationships, they need to be celebrated.  So why is it that our righteousness is defined instead by sexual orientation and the little things like adultery, child abuse, bullying and sexual violence within relationships get less of our energy and passion?

We as Christians are a minority in our society – a society that the Christian church heavily influenced in living memory and in fact still does but as a legacy rather than a living relationship.  Maybe this is a good thing to be a bit separated (many would argue so) but it seems to me that when we do do relationship, all our energy and passion and ‘public speaking time’ if you like to call it that is not that wisely spent – I can think on a million things which society embraces that Christ would want us to be challenging, overturning the tables on - and yet we debate the moral value of what is now a largely secular, oft repeated and increasingly devalued legal institution.  I am being extremely cynical about marriage there I realise, but there is a reason I believe.  What I would like to see is the Church recovering what marriage is actually about – the lifelong commitment of two people who promise before God and community that they will love and care for each other and will honour God in that relationship.    I don’t think we are very good at differentiating between those ways of living that we deem righteous simply because they have always been so and those acts and utterances that Christ would call righteous because they value God, faithfulness, love, and justice above all. 

Because that was the other question that James had to deal with - ‘who was influencing who?’  He was concerned that the distinctive transformed living that was ‘being reborn in Christ’ would be diluted, lost in the pressures and temptations of the majority society.  If we, as James, see righteous living as belief in God made know in Christ, intricately woven in with commitment, relationship and works then righteous is more than committing to God, being saved in Christ Jesus, but is also totally about the often counter-cultural, always radical approach to life and relationships that we engage in –by definition we have a different perspective, a Christ perspective.  So I ask the question:  on the issue of marriage equality – is conservative society pulling the strings of the church or is the church able to recover and restore marriage as a demonstrable way of living in right relationship with God and each other in love and faithfulness – no matter how those marriage partners might be defined? 

These are my views, formed and shaped by who I believe God through Christ and in the Spirit to be.  Yours may well be different on this particular issue –righteousness is not about being of one mind but of allowing your relationship with God, with Christ to be the transforming power in your life, over and above and sometimes against the culture you live in.  Only you can determine what that means for you.  Amen

Margaret Garland

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[1] James 2: 19

Sermon. Opoho Church Sunday 12th August, 2012.

Readings:  2 Samuel 18:5-9, 14b-15, 33, Ephesians 4:25-5:2, John 6:35,41-51

Let us pray.  May our minds be alert, our hearts open and our ears attentive to all that you gift to us this day in and through your word.  Amen

Last week we talked somewhat about the ways that we use words and stories to both learn and teach about God through Jesus and the challenges and dangers that lurk in isolating those teachings from the love and life of Christ.  Today, I would like to take that those teachings and explore our responses, our place in the story of the shaping of the kingdom.  Actually kingdom is another one of those words isn’t it that can conjure up negative responses for some of us – pictures of hierarchy, of haves and have nots, of hereditary power and servitude – not always helpful.  I have come across one reshaping of the word to more aptly describe what it is that we are aiming to say – and that is kin-dom – hard to say but perhaps more meaningful.  So when we use the word  kingdom we remind ourselves that it is not as the world means it but as God in Jesus Christ has taught us – a place of reconciliation, justice, equality, compassion and mercy – a here and now world where the driving force is love, the love of God revealed in the people of God. 

Today as well as concentrating on the reading from Ephesian, I want to draw on the thoughts and words of Miroslav Volf, whose book I have just begun reading.  It’s called “Free of Charge: giving and forgiving in a culture stripped of grace.” [1]

For both have the same unequivocally blunt message – that we receive the gifts of God not to hug them to ourselves but in order to gift others.

Volf uses the phrase ‘God’s gifts oblige us into something further’.  And he is quick to point out that the ‘something further’ is not about reciprocal gifting or negotiated bargaining with God.  He tells the story from the film Amadeus where the composer Salieri tries to cut a deal with God – if God will give him fame and glory and musical immortality then he in return will offer God “his chastity, his industry, his deepest humility, every hour of his life, his philanthropy.”  His negotiating with God never even got off the ground. Why?  Because God needs nothing from us, and nothing we could offer of ourselves would impact on God.  God gives unconditionally and there is nothing we can do that changes that.  But says Volf, there are what he calls obligations surrounding the giving of gifts that we can neither negotiate or earn.  The first is the obligation of receiving and he names this faith – the first part of the bridge he says from self-centredness to generosity.  The second is that we are obliged to gratitude – to not only receive the gifts but to receive them well.  Thirdly we are obliged into ourselves being generous givers and fourthly we are obliged to flourish and grow so that the gifts flow unconditionally and freely from us.

A final quote from Volf: “God gives so that we can exist and flourish but not only for that.  God gives so that we can help others exist and flourish as well.”  In other words, we face God and receive the gifts of love and life with faith and gratitude, we grow in the experience and teaching of the risen Christ and we turn and face our neighbours, giving with the same generosity of love and life and grace that has flowed into us.  That is what we actually do in a service of worship isn’t it – in praise and confession we acknowledge God’s gifts to us, in the reading and opening up of the Word we are drawn into the way of Christ and our responses of affirmation, gifting and intercession we turn ourselves and our gifts to our neighbours and to the world.  

In the letter to the Ephesians, we find a similar exhortation – to make the connection between receiving a new life in Christ and the transforming of the life we live in the real everyday world.  That the gift of the cross obligates us to generous and loving gifting to others.  Yes we can pretty much agree - that is the lesson taught.  But here is the rub – it isn’t easy being generous and onflowing with our gifts to others, no matter how much we want to, it takes a lifetime of learning and it requires serious effort.  And we learn too that a changed way of life is more than just stopping doing something bad that might hurt others, it is about replacing that with ways which build up and actively care for others – it requires stepping into new places and ways.  What do I mean?   Let’s look at some of the suggestions from the reading and, as we do, keep that in mind - that we are to do more than just stop doing something wrong but also are to be generous in new way with others. .

And so the first teaching - let us speak truth to our neighbours – not just as a rule but for a reason – we are members of each other.  We are all of the one body and we are inflicting self harm if we lie, promote untruth.  It is more than stopping deliberate lying – that is relatively identifiable- it’s also about being truthful with yourself and each other and God about who you are, and letting go of any falsehoods that prevent us gifting honesty and openness to ourselves and our neighbour. 

Then there is the instruction on not letting the sun go down on our anger.  Note that it not about never getting angry – I think sometimes we believe that to be Christian means to swallow any thoughts of anger and always be ‘nice’  - but rather about not allowing anger to enrage us or to fester or to be buried or to be vindictive, about dealing with our anger truthfully with ourselves and with others.  It’s more than swallowing our anger – it requires compassion and care in how we express and deal with our anger.

And then stealing – that we are not just to stop thieving but to actually contribute and work to share with the needy.  And what is really interesting here is that there are two only  opposing positions discussed – theft or generosity toward people in need.  There is no middle position of ‘goodness’ – there is only love or theft – and that love necessitates our taking a good hard look at what we do to support theft of equality, justice, sustenance and doing something active to stop it.

And the last one we will look at is that of how we communicate, especially in our use of words – and that is particularly applicable to us at the moment as we explore our use, our understanding of words in our church, in our faith  and in this community.  Again we hear the message – it’s not enough to stop using words that hurt and wound, we are instead to use words to build up and make known the gift of grace to others.  Now this does not mean that you are all now obligated to tell me that my sermon was nice even if it was abysmal – but you know what I mean.

Can you see the connection with Volf’s concept of obligation?  That we are to receive the gifts of God in faith and gratitude, not trying to negotiate or earn them and turn, in the grace and love of Christ Jesus, to flow those same gifts on to our neighbours, our world, Christ’s kingdom come.   Not easy, not passive, not automatic, but in the love of God, the grace of Jesus Christ and the community of the Spirit we are obliged to be Christ’s purpose to the world.  Thanks be to God.

Wise and faithful guide, you lovingly abide in our depths and graciously guide our every step.   You lead us to ever stronger growth and draw us more fully towards inner freedom.  We thank you this day for the awesome ways in which you constantly enter our lives.  We renew now our life’s purpose of being faithful to our relationship with you.  We give you our openness, trusting that you will lead us on paths that are meant to help us grow.  We re-commit our intention to listen to you in all of life, to love each other and the world, seeking peace, justice, reconciliation as Jesus taught us.

We re-commit ourselves to you, Oh God of grace and truth, trusting in your promise of everlasting love.

                                                            Joyce Rupp in ‘Prayers to Sophia’

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[1] Zondervan 2005

Sermon Opoho Church Sunday 5th August 2012

Readings: 2 Samuel 11:26-12:10, Ephesians 4:1-6,  John 6:24-35

 Let us pray:

May our hearts and minds be open to your word O God in Jesus name.  Amen.

Its been an brain overload week for me – some of you might say fair enough when I’ve had a weekend off!  Or maybe I should call it an inspiration overload.  From going to lectures by William Willamon[1], to beginning our August study series on Wednesday night, to reading a truly inspiring book to talking faith with old friends, it’s been hectic.  Small wonder then that on Friday afternoon, ie sermon time there were just so many thoughts and words clamouring to be heard in my head.  Add in the fact that it is Peace Sunday - and there are some really powerful bible readings set down for today – and I was truly at a loss as to where to start.

So I didn’t – I stopped instead.  I prayed, I sat quiet, sought a place of peace you might say – and then things began to sort themselves.

I realised that one phrase of visiting Thomas Burns lecturer, William Willimon, was playing itself over and over in my head – and that was that we are people of the word – that Christianity, more than any other faith, uses the word to find the truth of God.  He tells the story of being asked to help some students create a ‘garden of spirituality’ – a place where people can come and sit in solitude and peace and find God – and he realised that it was really outside his experience as a Methodist minister, that his faith was not primarily about an inner private spiritual awakening but rather was focussed and grown in hearing, discussing, discerning the truth through story and word.   And that word is ultimately and completely revealed in the person of Jesus Christ whom we know as the word made flesh, God among us.  So, says Willimon,  it is in teaching and preaching and discussing and questioning in community that we find ourselves discerning what it means to be a people of God here in this place.   Faith comes through hearing, he posits, and doesn’t just surface up in the power of the spirit by sitting in isolation no matter how beautiful the spiritual garden you have found for yourself.  Now this is not to suggest that meditation, silent contemplative time with God is not absolutely crucial to our faith but it is not enough by itself.  And to know the truth of that we only have to look to Christ and how he sought to bring people to a richer and deeper understanding of his Father.  He used words as he taught, preached, debated.  But he used them in a very distinct way – he didn’t so much speak out precise instruction, exact rules for living so much as he told stories, used metaphors, offered multiple perspectives and challenging scenarios.  Why was that - when it is just so much easier for us to follow instructions for right living? Maybe because Jesus was aware that words alone, without the story, can easily trip us up.  Firstly they can become confined in meaning, either by time, our varying perspectives or our culture, persuaded into new meanings completely detached from the original intent.  They can also be forgotten – stories are so much more easily remembered- and they usually remain distant concepts of rule rather than something that we can easily connect our lives with.  But when you hear a story you not only tend to remember it better but you also are invited to step into that story and find our own place in it, we are encouraged to find the ‘truth’ of the story for ourselves and our community. Stories, metaphor, unexpected twists encourage our involvement and invite us to see Christ in the daily life and ordinary time that is both then and now. Without the stories I suspect we often lose Christ from the teachings  Let me illustrate the difference.  On Wednesday night we were discussing how each of us understands the word discipline within the church – for a number of us the word immediately was associated with punishment, retribution, for others it meant being as good as you could be in the field you were working in, for others it meant setting boundaries of care as in bringing up children.  The point is that without telling stories and discussing and questioning and always, always anchoring it all in the life of Christ, we can either go well astray from or severely limit our understanding of how it is that God calls us to be as Christ followers - when it comes to the concept of discipline or any other word we might try to live by.  It was interesting that it was in telling the stories we had to offer of our own experiences that the complexities and nuances of what discipline might mean in a church and Christian setting began to emerge.  

Might I suggest that it can be the same as the word peace.  For many peace is the absence of violence rather than a way of life.  When we talk of the peace of Christ how easy it is to translate those words into a peaceful lifestyle, a goal of serenity or inward calm, when in fact, in the life of Christ, we are offered anything but.  Peace is not about moving away, disassociating from violence but rather of embracing a way of life where all that hurts and harms is actively challenged.  If you want that zone free kind of peace – try a desert island – if you want to experience and share the peace of Christ go live a life like he did, that challenges, not avoids violence and conflicts with all that is evil in this world. 

So we should be suspicious of words that are isolated from their context and their intention but actually stories aren’t all they are cracked up to be either – there is a danger here too – and King David illustrated it superbly in his response to Nathan’s story of the lamb taken from the poor man by the one who had plenty -   David was rightly angry at the story – but he didn’t see himself in it.  He said to Nathan, ‘As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.’ But he didn’t see it coming when Nathan said to him, ‘You are the man!  Ouch it hurts when you realise the person in the story, the person who show up in a less than nice light, turns out to be you.

So if we keep ourselves outside the stories, confine them to other time or other people or other circumstances then we miss the teaching altogether.  When we hear the stories and parables of Christ we need to do more that see them just as a ‘good’ story detached from ourselves – and think instead of what they are saying to us here and now as we seek to live as Christ’s in this world.

So it seems to me, that whether the teaching of Christ is from words or stories, rules or metaphors there exists the option for us to keep them a little at arm’s length, contained, misinterpreted, detached in some way.  How do we recover the fullness of meaning of Christ’s teachings – how do we keep Christ at the centre - of our understandings and faith and lives?  Perhaps we need the reminder of Jesus’ words - I am the bread of life – listen to me, know me and believe in me – and you will never again be hungry or thirsty.  If we believe that Christ is the embodiment of the living God and we choose to live in the light of that Word, then the teachings and stories will continue to guide and empower us, feed and nourish us in truth and light.  Thanks be to God.

 Margaret

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[1] The Revd Dr William Willimon, Bishop of the United Methodist Church in Alabama

Sermon from Opoho Church Sunday 22nd July, 2012

Readings:   2 Samuel 7:1-14a, Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Let us pray:  Open our hearts, our minds, our very souls to your word for us O God, that we may be both challenged and affirmed in Jesus name.  Amen. 

Rachel Remen, in her book Kitchen Table Wisdom[1] tells the story of how, when she was just 3 or 4, her father began a family tradition of putting out a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle on a table and then hiding the box lid with the picture on it so that no-one knew what picture would eventually emerge. The child Rachel wanted to participate but wasn’t sure how – when she climbed up to look she noticed that some pieces were dark and shadowy and others brightly coloured and decided that the dark ones were like spiders or bugs, ugly and a little frightening.  So she gathered them up and hid them under a cushion – a few at a time until there were around a hundred pieces missing.  She eventually owned up to doing this and watched as her mother added them to the picture – and said that she was astounded as this amazing picture emerged of a peaceful beautiful deserted beach.  Without the bits she had taken, the dark pieces, the picture made no sense.

And the question has to be asked – what are the bits of our lives that we might be hiding under our particular cushions because we think they are of no value or perhaps, as the young Rachel did, think that they are dark or scary.  Now there are many conversations that could come out of that analogy for each of us and I encourage you to think and pray about how that picture might speak to you.  But today, I want to pursue one particular aspect that we as a society have tended to devalue and what that might have on our impact as church as we look to make Jesus Christ known.

And that is the concept of rest, of taking time to be quiet and of listening to God.  And why we might want to value this more than perhaps we do and how it might empower our ministries.

One part of the training that interns receive from Knox Centre is about recovering the concept of the Sabbath – finding within your ministry time a space for reflection- for deliberate, personal, quality God time – and we are not talking daily devotions here or Sunday worship really but intentional listening and resting in the presences of God.  And it was the hardest teaching for almost everyone to grasp – or at least to translate into actual Parish life.  We all knew it would be the first thing to go in the busyness and commitment of being a Parish Minister – and so it was kind of ‘this would be lovely...’ rather than ‘this must be...’  It wasn’t that we thought it scary – rather that it was of lesser need than the obvious ‘doing’ roles ahead of us.

How many times do we read of Jesus trying to get away to a place where he, or he and the apostles, can rest for a while, spend time with God, recharge batteries.  In today’s reading he is trying to do just that, for the twelve have returned from successful ministries and are tired and played out – but Jesus is overwhelmed by the needs of the people and his compassion for them means he can’t turn them away.  Now you might think – Well wouldn’t that be all our dreams come true – people banging on the door for our help and us rushed off our feet in ministry, unable to keep up with demand.  Well actually – that is the way it is out there.  So many people, so much need, so much to do, that it is actually overwhelming. 

But I am getting a little ahead of myself.  How might a time of reflection, of rest help equip us for ministry?  And how do we hold that against the pressing needs around us?  Two big questions.  And in some way you can see the beginnings of a way forward in David’s story –where he at last seems to feel able to rest for a while, when the urgency of conflict and the web of political intrigue seem to have faded somewhat and he can settle in one place, take some time for reflection after  constant action.  And into that time of rest comes an incredibly important moment for David – where God through the prophet Nathan speaks of unequivocal hope in the future, of promise and faithfulness and steadfast love, of the building of a house, a family that will never fail or cease.  David in his time of ‘rest’ was open to new visions and the strengthening of his relationship with God in a way he could never be when constantly on the go.

Do we have such a busy life, however that might show itself, that we find it difficult to stop and listen, pause and reflect with God?  And busyness can be defined many ways, including only holding a one-way conversation all the time!  You know I can clearly remember the time I realised that my prayers were a monologue – all me! No place of listening for response or just even sitting quiet.  I told God what I wanted and then hung up.  How rude!  And how blind! 

For when we stop and listen, we can only grow in our understandings and our faith, be encouraged in our mission and ministry and be open to new visions of what it is we are called as a church to be and do.

How might that sit alongside what I talked of earlier – of being surrounded by the needy, the vulnerable, the seekers after truth and justice who are literally banging on our door asking for help? 

First I believe that in this time of rest, be it in worship, in Sabbath taking, in listening to what it is that God is saying to us, that we are strengthened and empowered to go out into difficult, awkward, challenging places of ministry.  We do not feed our souls just for our own satisfaction but so that we can then go out and feed the souls of others – what we receive we are also to give.  And receiving the blessings of rest with God enables us to be more courageous, more open and unashamedly vulnerable in our relationships with others, knowing that Christ is present in the tricky places we might find ourselves.  Trust and growing faith comes from relationships that take time to listen with each other.   

Secondly I believe that out of the quality of time spent in the presence of God we are more able to give of our whole selves not just our surplus.  It’s been a common understanding in certainly my experience of church that we can somehow compartmentalise our church lives and responsibilities into a separate box that gets our leftovers, generous leftovers often but still surplus to our needs.  Now before you start throwing rotten tomatoes at me I do not mean that we should give all our assets and money and time and energy to Bishop Margaret up here, but I do want to try and say that there are probably places in our lives where we are give only what we will not miss and maybe its timely to examine those places.  Quiet time encourages us to remembers God’s generosity and thus re-examine ours.

Thirdly the compassion and care that we offer in our lives and our ministry requires our strength and our best and we cannot do that if we are empty – I use the image of a dry well to describe when I am feeling played out or just plain tired.  As we are called to be givers we also need to give time to care for ourselves – and we are often the last priority on our life agenda.  We cannot fix the world in one hit, we are not called to exhaust ourselves, to be superhuman in our endeavours, but to love and care for ourselves when we need to because we and our health are important too. Take a break when you can so that you can be the best you can in the service of Jesus Christ.

I believe that the whole picture of what a reconciled and just world might look like will only emerge when we take time to place all the pieces on the table – when alongside mission and ministry, worship and governance, compassion and love and hospitality, we add in those pieces which are our continuing reflection, rest, our renewal in the presence of God that we may together create a picture of hope and  service in the name of the risen Christ.    Amen

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[1] Remen, Rachel: Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories that Heal.  Riverback Books, 2006

Short Sermon Opoho Church Sunday 15th July 2012

Readings: 2 Samuel 6:1-2, 12b-19, Mark 6:14-29

The Ark of the Covenant, whether the Indiana Jones version, or a 21^st century  impression by He Qi of China or this thirteenth century rendition from the Morgan Bible, has fascinated people throughout the centuries and across cultures.  Where did it go?  Did Jeremiah retrieve it and seal it up high in the mountains before the destruction of the Temple, or did the Babylonians take it with all the other treasure when they sacked the Temple?  Others say it is in the care of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, that the Knights Templar have it in France or the UK, or that it has been destroyed somehow.  Whilst we could speculate a great deal on the fate of the physical Ark, (and some people have spent their lives doing just that) it seems to me that it would be more useful for us to ask what this text might say to us of God.  Samuel Giere[1], a US theologian suggests this text provides a dynamic portrait of God's presence and power with the people of Israel and speaks strongly of the danger and joy of being in God's presence.

The ark for David and the people of Israel was not a benign presence, a safe harbour – anything but – ask Uzzah who, the passage says, simply touched the Ark to stop it falling when the oxen stumbled and he was dead – nothing fair or just or deserving about that.  It goes on to say “David was afraid of the Lord that day”[2] and he only came back to escort the Ark into Jerusalem three months later.  Being in the presence of God, he discovered, is both a danger and a joy.

How do we do that sort of tension? How do we welcome the presence of God into our lives with great joy knowing that it can also bring an increased potential for danger –because we are called to speak out about those things that are unjust and unfair and unloving –in a culture that does not necessarily hold justice and love and compassion as the number one priorities.  When we challenge the status quo, we are inviting trouble, failure, put downs, retribution and it happens – more often than not.  Perhaps not quite the trouble that John the Baptist got into by speaking out against the household arrangements of King Herod but trouble none-the-less. And it’s not just about our intentional stands for social and political and economic justice that place us in relative danger – it is also about the ordinary hand that life deals us, the Uzzah moments in our lives where stuff happens – not because we deserve it or don’t deserve it – it just is.   Inviting the presence of God into our lives is neither a ticket to safety nor to immunity from the sometimes harsh realities of life for us.  As it was for John – he not only spoke out but he was also in the wrong place at the wrong time – a feast, the largesse, a spontaneous generous oath taken literally, an opportunity taken – all contributed to his untimely death. 

So we have increased danger from our speaking out and no less danger for being in the presence of God – where do we find the will to dance with joy in celebration of God’s presence? We can dance because we, like David, know that there is a bigger story, a greater truth to be found in the presence of God. For us that truth is found in Jesus Christ who came among us not only to heal and reconcile but also to invite us into that bigger story, a life greater than we on our own can perceive, where our lives and life of the world can be transformed way beyond our imaginings or our individual realities, where in the power of the risen Christ we are able to not only confront the powers that abuse and exploit way and make a difference, but that we can also hold on to a hope, a love that will not let us go in the midst of all that life throws our way.  That indeed is cause for celebration and joy even in the midst of danger.  Thanks be to God.

Margaret Garland

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[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org

[2] 2 Samuel 6:9a