In the name of God, merciful Father, compassionate Son, spirit of Wisdom. Amen.
This is a story about persistence – persistence in prayer, and the persistence of mercy.
Before the prayer even began, the mercy was there – at work, doing more than I could ask for or even imagine.
Once in a while in Mr. McCormick’s 10th grade Spanish class, students would pass around little slips of paper and ask each other, “Are you going to club?” Club? What were they talking about? I asked – they meant Young Life!
There was a meeting every week at someone’s house. Lots of people went, and so I was curious. The slips of paper were little hand-drawn maps – how to get to ‘club’ this week. I didn’t drive – but one month my neighbor and childhood friend Adrienne hosted the meetings.
And so one blustery fall evening I walked down the block, and rang the doorbell of her house. It opened onto a warm roomful of bustling people – and before I knew it I was greeted, asked what my name was and greeted again, and welcomed in to the warmth of that room. It was full and an older guy named Lee made room for me at the back. There was singing and another guy, a college student named Steve, gave a ‘talk’ built on a song – “You’ve Got a Friend”. That was my first experience. I came back.
Somehow all that noise and laughter helped me to take in the message of hospitality that lay behind it all – that in the home of Jesus there was room made for me, that I could find my place in him, and eventually I could invite him to come into my life, and we would together journey to the true home of all people, the dwelling place of the peace of God.
And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
II
Long ago in a land far, far away called San Francisco, there was a newspaper columnist named Art Hoppe. His column was light-hearted and spoofed many of the foibles of the day. However… frequently two characters appeared, standing on clouds, regarding Earth from the prospect of Heaven. There stood the Heavenly Landlord, and by his side stood the faithful messenger Gabriel. “Look! Look at what they are doing now!” the heavenly landlord would exclaim in exasperation. For it looked like this time they had really torn it – and Gabriel would eagerly inquire, brandishing his trumpet, “Shall I sound the heavenly Eviction Notice, Lord?” And the landlord would look down once again on his favorite planet and say, “No, no, — ” His mercy always overcame his wrath.
In the story of the Golden Calf, the people of Israel have vexed their God just about beyond belief – he has rescued them from slavery in Egypt, parted the Sea that they might escape to dry ground, led them through the desert faithfully, when they were hungry he fed them, when they were thirsty he gave them drink – and now, they have a few moments to themselves while Moses is facing God on the mountain.
So what do they do? They melt down their gold earrings and make themselves an idol of gold.
And so they exchanged their Glory for the image of an ox that feeds on grass.
To the gold they bow, saying, this is what preserved us. This is what brought us through the hard times, through the desert of want and the forest of need, through all our wandering, this is what got us fed and led us to safety.
Oh boy. Is he angry now!
Moses intervenes: do you want the whispering campaign to be proved true? that you brought them out into the wilderness just to see them suffer and die? Remember your promise, Lord; remember your mercy.
And God changes his mind.
God renews the intention of his heart – his resolve, his intent.
In heart and mind he recovers his purpose.
And he stays his hand.
It is written above his throne: his mercy always overcomes his anger.
Moses interceded for the people: does this mean that magic words make God change his mind?
Or does it mean that the will of God is fulfilled, that the true nature of God is revealed, that his purpose is completed in the compliance and the supplication of a willing heart? Moses asked for what he needed – for the mercy of God to prevail.
Indeed, God gives to us in abundance what we need before we ask – we have all we are and have and will be, owing to God. It is almost an act of courtesy, but a necessary act of completion, of coming into harmony with divine purpose, that we ask for what we need: our daily bread, our sins forgiven, our temptations deflected, our deliverance made real.
Israel in the desert, the people of God wandering through the world of want and need and dependency on divine favor – he has only to remove his hand and it all goes away – have rebelled once again like Adam in the garden at their place in the world. But it is only the truth of the human condition. We are dependent on God for all that is.
And yet – the truth is, his gift of love precedes our need; God is there before us, before we conceive of it, providing with abundance. And not for ourselves only: as Paul has said to us (through the letter to the people of Philippi) our abundance is to overflow in generosity to others. That is its purpose: not to give us something to hold onto, but something to share.
And so Paul says, rejoice. Always in the Lord rejoice – be glad of God’s faithfulness and his provision. By prayer and with thanksgiving let God know what you need.
And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
His mercy endures forever.
III
The letter of Paul to the Christians at Philippi has a lesson for us. Put in sharp contrast the way of the world’s doing. Here is a nugget of wisdom I learned this summer from a Lutheran pastor and theologian named Paul Lee:
Badmouthing is negative prayer.
Badmouthing is negative prayer.
Badmouthing – I think you know what I mean – is like Badwater – the low ground in Death Valley: a place and a way of being full of bitterness and stagnation and defeat.
It is not the life-giving water, the sweet water; the gift of abundance of God.
It is scarcity thinking, at its worst—there isn’t enough for me, there certainly isn’t enough for me to share with the likes of you.
What is the sweet water? What is positive prayer?
Paul the apostle:
o whatever is true
o whatever is honorable
o whatever is just
o whatever is pure
o whatever is pleasing
o whatever is commendable
o what is excellent
o what is praiseworthy
Let your mind rest on these things
Let these things refresh your mind
Let your heart find its dwelling-place in the gracious things of God
In the renewing of your mind let God’s grace flow like waters in the wilderness
bringing new life
Do not be conformed to this world’s ways any longer, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. (Romans 12:2)
And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.
Paul’s message to us here – do not worry, make your dwelling-place in the peace of God – is more than an admonition to avoid bad feelings.
He assures us that the God of peace will be with us, as we set our hearts on the good things of God: true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, praiseworthy things.
Not things as the world acquires them are the things of God: they are lasting, they are blessings, and the more you share them, the more abundant is your own life.
Set your heart on the things of God and receive his blessings.
How is your heart set?
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Showing posts with label Psalm 106. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Psalm 106. Show all posts
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
the dream is ended
May I speak in the Name of the Son, in the Power of the Holy Spirit, to the Glory of God the Father. AMEN.
On the last page of the last chapter of his last book for children, C. S. Lewis wrote:
“The dream is ended: this is the morning…” the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures…had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
***
This is not the end of the story. It is only the end of the beginning.
The story began, in this earthly realm, 93 years ago. Allison Morrison lived a long and full life, a memorable one, with memories left behind that we can begin to share today, as you meet each other and hear each other’s stories – of Allison getting together with folks on Friday mornings at Pancake Haus, of Rob and Allison anchoring their pew at the 8 o’clock services, of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This is the part of the story that we know: but the story continues beyond our knowing, as Allison is received where she is known best of all, in the presence of God.
For each of us this life is only the beginning: death is not the end: life, in Christ, goes on into eternity.
We can share in the presence of Christ in this community together, in Eucharist: Allison and all those who have gone before us, share in that communion, too: in the presence of the Lord.
“Our journey,” Archbishop Sentamu has preached, “is towards oneness with God. As we journey, our calling is to make manifest to everyone the compassionate face of God made visible in Jesus Christ.”
We follow Jesus. We follow him to life in the presence of God. Someday like Allison each one of us will see him face to face. When that day comes, may we be like Peter, who, hearing on Easter morning that Jesus was alive, ran to the tomb to greet his risen Lord. In the meantime, may we run or walk, may we journey, as if Jesus were walking beside us – his presence a forgone conclusion.
“Jesus is in fact the presence of God’s truth and God’s life in the world,” Lesslie Newbigin writes, “and to know the Father means to follow the way which Jesus is, and which he has opened” for us, through the veil between this life and the next, “by his living, his dying, and his rising from the dead.”
The presence of God, the forgiveness of God, the grace of God, are all around us and present to us. It is a matter of us becoming present to Him.
Quite often we may feel his absence, as if he were gone. But even at those times he is right beside us, grieving with us in our sorrow and despair.
Sometimes we may forget how he sees us: the Lord sees the person he made and that he loves. He sees each of us in aspiration – in the Spirit – and sees the child of God within us. However distorted that image may seem to be, from time to time, it is there, shining behind the clouds of sin and desire, of folly and disease, and on the day that the Lord greets us, as he now greets Allison, we will shine with the reflected light of God’s glory and his loving greeting to us.
“Come my child, my beloved. Come home to the place I have made for you. Come to the table – and sit at the banquet – and rejoice in the presence and the plenty of God.”
May God in his grace abundantly enfold you, bringing you into his peace. Amen.
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, WA
March 15, 2008
Memorial Service for
Allison Morrison (October 11, 1915 – February 15, 2008)
Lamentations 3:22-26, 31-33
Psalm 121
Revelation 21:2-7
Psalm 106:1-5
John 14:1-6
(C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, the last chapter, the last page.)
Archbishop of York, “We journey towards oneness with God“, Monday 12 February 2007
Service of commemoration of the 30th anniversary of the martyrdom of Janani Luwum at Westminster Abbey, London
(http://www.archbishopofyork.org/261)
(Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come, Eerdmans, 1982, p. 182)
On the last page of the last chapter of his last book for children, C. S. Lewis wrote:
“The dream is ended: this is the morning…” the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures…had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
***
This is not the end of the story. It is only the end of the beginning.
The story began, in this earthly realm, 93 years ago. Allison Morrison lived a long and full life, a memorable one, with memories left behind that we can begin to share today, as you meet each other and hear each other’s stories – of Allison getting together with folks on Friday mornings at Pancake Haus, of Rob and Allison anchoring their pew at the 8 o’clock services, of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This is the part of the story that we know: but the story continues beyond our knowing, as Allison is received where she is known best of all, in the presence of God.
For each of us this life is only the beginning: death is not the end: life, in Christ, goes on into eternity.
We can share in the presence of Christ in this community together, in Eucharist: Allison and all those who have gone before us, share in that communion, too: in the presence of the Lord.
“Our journey,” Archbishop Sentamu has preached, “is towards oneness with God. As we journey, our calling is to make manifest to everyone the compassionate face of God made visible in Jesus Christ.”
We follow Jesus. We follow him to life in the presence of God. Someday like Allison each one of us will see him face to face. When that day comes, may we be like Peter, who, hearing on Easter morning that Jesus was alive, ran to the tomb to greet his risen Lord. In the meantime, may we run or walk, may we journey, as if Jesus were walking beside us – his presence a forgone conclusion.
“Jesus is in fact the presence of God’s truth and God’s life in the world,” Lesslie Newbigin writes, “and to know the Father means to follow the way which Jesus is, and which he has opened” for us, through the veil between this life and the next, “by his living, his dying, and his rising from the dead.”
The presence of God, the forgiveness of God, the grace of God, are all around us and present to us. It is a matter of us becoming present to Him.
Quite often we may feel his absence, as if he were gone. But even at those times he is right beside us, grieving with us in our sorrow and despair.
Sometimes we may forget how he sees us: the Lord sees the person he made and that he loves. He sees each of us in aspiration – in the Spirit – and sees the child of God within us. However distorted that image may seem to be, from time to time, it is there, shining behind the clouds of sin and desire, of folly and disease, and on the day that the Lord greets us, as he now greets Allison, we will shine with the reflected light of God’s glory and his loving greeting to us.
“Come my child, my beloved. Come home to the place I have made for you. Come to the table – and sit at the banquet – and rejoice in the presence and the plenty of God.”
May God in his grace abundantly enfold you, bringing you into his peace. Amen.
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, WA
March 15, 2008
Memorial Service for
Allison Morrison (October 11, 1915 – February 15, 2008)
Lamentations 3:22-26, 31-33
Psalm 121
Revelation 21:2-7
Psalm 106:1-5
John 14:1-6
(C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, the last chapter, the last page.)
Archbishop of York, “We journey towards oneness with God“, Monday 12 February 2007
Service of commemoration of the 30th anniversary of the martyrdom of Janani Luwum at Westminster Abbey, London
(http://www.archbishopofyork.org/261)
(Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come, Eerdmans, 1982, p. 182)
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