Sermon: The First Sunday of Advent

Advent means that God isn't finished with us yet. The Story of God is still going on, and we're a part of it. And if we keep awake, and if we keep our eyes open - we may like the shepherds and wisemen behold a new star at it's rising.

Looking forward to Sunday: The First Sunday of Advent

Apparently the Mayans believed that the world is going to end in 2012. Maybe you saw the movie in the last week or so. Karen and I are going tonight.

According to one, very small and questionably informed, group of modern Christians the world is going to end on May 21st, 2011. (I guess the Mayans were close? . . .) They base this date on a crazy string of biblical quotes from totally unrelated pieces of scripture, and depend on the date of 4990BC as the year of the flood (as in Noah). According to their calculations May 21, 2001 is 7,000 years to the day since Noah's Ark set sail on it's first and last voyage.

Hal Lindsey, the author of The Late Great Planet Earth, said that he thought that last decade of human history would be the 1980's.

Ooops.

The fascination with the 'End Times' has spurred a multi-billion dollar industry. Books, movies, websites, billboards - media of all types feeding curiosity of 'the end.'

Into this climate - and with two upcoming end-dates hovering over our heads - we enter Advent. And, Advent is about the coming of Christ, and the fulfillment of God's righteous victory over evil. Advent (a word which means 'the coming') end with the celebration of the first coming of Christ in a manger in Bethlehem, but Advent always begins by pointing our faith towards the next coming of Jesus.

Just about every week we state the mystery of our faith: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

What do we mean by 'Christ will come again?' What did Jesus mean by the speaking of his return? What do the many references to 'the Day of the Lord' throughout the Old and New Testaments mean?

Do we join the crazies and build bunkers and arks? Do we claim that we've intellectually moved on from this pre-modern way of looking at the world and God? Or, is there something really here?

Not exactly fun, fluffy thoughts to wake up to as we crawl out of our turkey-and-stuffing-induced-coma - but important issues of faith to wrestle with as we move into Advent, and sing those familiar tunes: O Come, O Come Emmanuel. . .

Sermon: Christ the King Sunday

So what do George Steirbrenner, the St. Joe's basketball team, Pontius Pilate, and Jesus have in common?

They were all in this Sunday's sermon.

No, really.

This sermon was out of the cosmos. . .

Looking forward to Sunday: Christ the King

This coming Sunday is traditionally known as "Christ the King Sunday." It's hard for us Americans to get our heads around the concepts of monarchy, as we haven't had to deal with a monarch for almost 230 years. (We can ask our ex-pat Brits for a basic primer on living as a royal subject after church. . .)

But, the titles of monarchy: King and Kingdom, are used over and over again in the Gospels to describe the role of Jesus and his reign over the realm of God. It's staggering to think about a poor Jewish carpenter who was born in a barn and who had 'no place to lay his head' as a 'King.' And, quite frankly it was just as staggering for the people who were listening to Jesus talk and rise in popularity 2,000 years ago.

But, his identity as King was a central claim of his life and purpose - and the importance of him being a descendant of King David and King Solomon solidified that claim.

But, HOW Jesus was King is the really staggering piece, because Jesus' crowning in the Gospels was specifically identified not with an opulent ceremony and golden crown, but rather with a cross and a crown of thorns. When the Gospel writers wrote the scenes of trial and execution, they wrote them to be the coronation.

Because that's the kind of King Jesus was. And is.

Jesus' reign was not only inaugurated on the cross, but it is indentified by the cross. The cross and tomb are markers for the kind of reign he established and maintains today.

Try and wrap you head around that.

What does that say about leadership? About power? And about the way we're supposed to run the church - God's Kingdom embassies on earth?

And, what does it say about us, who are supposed to be subjects to that kind of King?

When we stop to ponder the royal reign of Christ from the foot of the cross - or as we'll do in a few short weeks from the foot of the manger - we not only get a glimpse into who Jesus really was, and is. But, truly, we get a better picture of who we are meant to be.

Sermon: The Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

The story of Hannah and the origins of Samuel demonstrates beautifully a faithful response to an ever-faithful God.

Looking forward to Sunday: Hannah

This week our Old Testament Lesson comes from the first chapter of 1^st Samuel, and our ‘psalm’ comes from the 2^nd chapter of the same book. So, in just a few short minutes we will get a very good snapshot of the beginning of the biblical book of 1^st Samuel and the lives of Eli and Hannah, and Hannah’s child Samson.

Like last week we will quickly notice some interesting trajectories in the storyline of the book. The story begins with Hannah in a poor state. She’s barren, feeling abandoned by God, trampled down by those around her, and even wrongly accused of being drunk while praying! But, then that all turns around, and she gives birth to Samson – one of the great heroes of the People of God.

And, when it turns around, she breaks out into song – singing the psalm that has become to be known as “The Song of Hannah.”

It’s a beautiful piece. Scholars have noticed throughout the millennia how incredibly similar it is to the Song of Mary (The Magnificat) in the Gospel of Luke. But, what is striking about this song, and the woman who sings it, is that it’s not just about her. God granted her some personal redemption and deliverance – and yet she sings of a God who didn’t just do great things for her, but of a God who always does great things cosmically and for the whole People of God.

I find it to be such a helpful story because I think we can all identify ‘Hannah moments’ in our life – where we are sick and tired of being sick and tired. Moments where nothing seems to be going right, and where we don’t feel like anyone has our back.

But, then I also think we have other ‘Hannah moments’ where things amazingly and wonderfully work out. Where we realize that we aren’t alone after all, and our prayers of word, thought, and cry aren’t just going off into a great emptiness – but are being heard by God.

And, if we can have those ‘Hannah moments,’ maybe we can also conjure up the strength to sing – out loud to God. Maybe we can then see that our little lives aren’t the only thing God is working on, but that, in the words of the old song, “He’s got the WHOLE world in his hands.”

Here’s hoping we have that kind of Hannah moment, and soon.

Sermon: The Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost

The story of Ruth is one that begins in famine and death, and which moves to fullness and life. The story of Kuria, Kenya is also a story that moves from hunger to fullness, thanks to Nuru International. And, that trajectory - that movement is one of the defining characteristics of the Story of God. And when the Story of God breaks into our life, that trajectory breaks in too.

For a powerful video about Karen's friend Jake, and Nuru's amazing work in Kenya, see below.

The End (Jake's Story) from Nuru International on Vimeo.

Looking Forward to Sunday: Ruth

This week we will encounter the Ruth - one of the great matriarchs of the Hebrew Bible. In the Revised Common Lectionary, we only read from the Book of Ruth two Sundays in the entire three year cycle of readings. I always think it's important to take these rare opportunities seriously, lest we forget some of the great stories, heroes, and heroines which make up the fabric of our faith.

The Book of Ruth is a story of opposites, and movement. It's the story of famine and food, barrenness and fruitfulness, fullness and emptiness, and leaving and returning. As we come to the fullness of fall and draw ever closer to Thanksgiving, these themes should be quickly recognized in our story as a nation. Those who came before us - explorers, pilgrims, and patriots knew suffering, and leanness, oppression, and hardship before America was able to rise out of the ashes and truly be a place of prosperity and freedom. Maybe you recognize these themes in your own lives as well - seasons where there were difficulty, where you 'did without,' and where you were tested and tried.

Maybe you're in one of those seasons now.

But, in the Story of God, while these themes and seasons show up again and again, there is always movement forward and upward. The Story of God never ends in desolation, death, hunger, or by a sad tomb. God always brings His people to a fuller life.

Not that such fuller life comes easily, or even quickly. But, in the end, God always provides. God always wins.

And, when God wins, we win.

I've spent a good deal of time over the last few weeks and months thinking about our parish's finances. This is a season in our church's life where there is so much to celebrate - but financial stability isn't one of those areas for us to celebrate. I see the strain on the vestry as they seek to provide for St. Mark's well, but have to constantly ask, 'Can we afford that?' 'Where's the money for that going to come from?'

I know, that as the Story of Ruth, and the Story of the Bible moves - so too will the story of St. Mark's. I believe that we are in a good place - that a good crop has been planted - and goodness knows we've had enough rain!

I'm praying for a harvest worthy of the work that God has given us to do, and in thanksgiving of all that God has blessed us with already.­

Rick+

Sermon: All Saint's Sunday

The Life that Jesus gives us doesn't begin when we die - it begins now. And, because of that, we who are 'alive in the Lord' are connected to those who are 'dead in the Lord' in mystic sweet communion. Because we share One Life - as one flock, of one Shepherd.