On wrestling and redemption and trust . . .

     Last week, we began our once every six year reading of Job.  I had to explain that a few times this past week in conversations, so here’s why it’s once every six years: We rotate through the lectionary every three years.  We have a choice between the “history” track and the “prophetic” track.  In an effort to expose Adventers to as much of the Bible as possible, I rotate the tracks.  That means when these readings come up again in 2021, we will be looking at the prophet Amos rather than Job’s bitter complaint.  Of course, conversations this week make me think we should do Job WAY more than we do.  And some Adventers have asked if I’d consider us doing a class on Job or asking Larry to do it.  Who knew in the blessed land of Brentwood there was bitter complaining, unjust suffering, sometimes a lack of perspective, and that God was aware of all of it, not just aware, but engaging it?!

     Our story continues this week some twenty chapters later.  In many ways, the story has not advanced too much.  Job remains faithful to God despite the leprosy curse of Satan and the temptations of his wife.  To catch you up in the story, Satan returns to the courtroom setting of chapter 1 and 2.  God points out Job’s faithfulness to Satan once again.  Once again, Satan claims that Job only worships God because God has blessed Job with wealth and family.  God knows better, and He tells Satan he must spare Job’s life.  A bit too simultaneously for many folks, a tornado or whirlwind hits the farmhouse and kills Job’s family—his foolish wife and his ten children for whom he made sacrifice every day in case they sinned against God in their hearts and a foreign army finds itself in the area killing the servants and stealing Job’s flocks.  Quite literally, Job is left with nothing.  He mourns in the ashes.

     It turns out, of course, that Job has lost even more.  His best friends hear of Job’s affliction and come to comfort him.  It is here that we get our most important pastoral lesson of the day.  Job has lost everything, everything that he values and counts as a blessing from God.  How do his friends respond?  At first, they take the warning of Mark Twain to heart.  We all know it.  It is better to appear pastorally sensitive and remain silent rather than speak and show oneself to be a fool.  I know, Mr. Twain’s warning was about intelligence and stupidity, but the warning fits.  For a full week they sit in silence.  For a full week they minister well to their friend who is suffering greatly.

      Then comes the speaking and we learn they are “that” kind of friend.  You know the one, the one who means well and is made uncomfortable by silence, the one who thinks God needs them to defend Him and His actions or inactions, the one who tells us that God needed another angel when a child is taken from us, the one who tells us that our loved one is better off now that they are dead and no longer suffering, the one who likes to remind us that they made it through this exact same darkness that was so much worse.  We all have those friends in our lives.  Don’t be that friend.  There are enough of them around.  Be a true friend, and don’t be afraid of silence.  We serve a God who speaks in still, small whispers.  Sometimes the silence allows us or the ones suffering to hear Him better, to realize that He really is with us, that He really is in the business of redemptive suffering.

     I know silence makes us terribly uncomfortable.  But sometimes, it’s the best we can do.  This world does not function the way God ordered it in the beginning.  It has been cursed by our sins.  It groans under the weight of our sins.  Sometimes there are no easy answers or quick fixes.  Sometimes there is no wisdom immediately perceivable.  And all our efforts to fill the silence sound vapid or, worse, insensitive.  Think I’m wrong?  How do people respond to “Thoughts and prayers”?  The phrase has become a derisive calling card in the world that references Christians.  I think rightly so.  Do we really pray for all those folks for whom we say or post that?  Do thoughts and prayers really speak into a situation?  I mean, if they are hungry, should we not be feeding them?  If they lack clothes, should we not be clothing them?  If they are in prison, should we not be visiting them?  Thoughts and prayers should be reserved for the situations like Job’s, where we really need to pray to God to discern what is happening or what to do about it.

     I was admonished a bit by those at 8am for not having some sermon illustrations to for the Job-like events of life.  I did.  I had many.  Unfortunately, the most recent ones all involved Adventers and I had not gotten permission to share any of them with the congregation.  It was clear, though, that I needed to speak about the acceptability of silence, of profound, lengthy, mourning silence.  So I shared with them an example and then asked “like that?”  Truthfully, they were overwhelmed.  As they should have been.  As Job is in our reading today.

     Some of you know more details of the following story.  I have shared it with various groups and individuals over the last four years.  In seminary, we had a fantastic small group.  To this day we still each can call one another out, offer encouragement, be a safe place to express our double mantle of sarcasm, or whatever we need.  Part of that tightness was forged by fire.  In seminary there was a baby boom.  It often happens as there is not much else to do to entertain oneself when one is a poor seminarian.  Two men in my group, Bryan and Scott, learned they were pregnant with their first child, as Paul and I learned our wives were pregnant with our fifth.    Most of our amusement was focused on Bryan.  In many ways he had never grown up.  We were laughing hysterically at the thought of him being a parent.  Scott was far more introverted and somber.  We knew he would adjust.  Paul and I were going through that “How in the hell are we going to make this work?” phase.  We had four kids each.  We were in a zone defense with our wives.  A fifth meant we’d have to switch to a prevent defense.  And, there was the problem of a child being born in Ambridge.  We had had to teach our kids to come get us when they found syringes on the ground and to run inside when they heard big bangs and never ever to accept anything offered by anyone other than mom or dad.  Kids would find things and offer to share.

     Everything was what you might expect in a close knit group.  Each of us were able to speak honestly about our fears and excitements.  On those rare occasions where we did not, the others in the group called us out on our bs (skubala, for those who prefer me to speak theologically rather than earthily).  Then came the ultrasound.  Scott and Sarah’s son, Josiah, was shown to have anencephaly.  Doctors went through the prognosis and options.  Many of you are in healthcare so you know these conversations, and I see the nods.  Scott and Sarah decided to see the pregnancy through.  Josiah was born and lived only a few minutes. 

     David, whom you all know and love, well, know in any event, was born to us during a snowstorm prior to Josiah’s birth and death.  Bryan, David’s Godfather, was kind enough to cover church for me that morning—he gets to share how he drove uphill through a blizzard both ways to cover church so David could be corn, and he’s telling the truth!  Paul and Kristti had their fifth, and it was uneventful.  I can’t remember whether Paul and Kristti had their fifth by the time Josiah was buried.  I know we had lots of painful conversations in the community regarding whether it was “proper” for us to be at the funeral, or Karen since I participated in it, with a newborn in such circumstances, as if Karen had not asked Sarah and I had not asked Scott.

     You can all imagine those conversations.  I thought I was done with diapers.  Here I was changing diapers again.  Finances were way more challenging now.  Paul had similar issues.  Scott had lost his firstborn son.  We had grief and survivor grief and angst enshrouding us, but we were well covered in prayer.  Conversations were sometimes hard and awkward, but understandably so.

     Then came the call!  Bryan and Lisa were off to the hospital right after his graduation.  Those of us gathered post-graduation were telling our favorite “can’t wait’s.”  Some could not wait to see Bryan with his first exploding diaper.  Others were giggling at the thought of spit-up running down the back of the neck.  A few worried he might take baby rock climbing or trail running with him.  All of us worried for Lisa.  Now she’d have two infants for which to care!  Lol  Then came the next call.  Samuel had died at birth, and Lisa nearly had.

     Our small group took off for the hospital.  We reconvened there, and none of us had anything to say.  The doctor was clearly in shock.  He had no answers, no excuses.  It bugged him to the point that he later presented Samuel at three different M & M’s that we knew of, seeking an explanation.  As far as doctors could tell, no one missed anything.  For him, that made things worse.  He was in the practice that handled most of those fourteen births at our seminary.  He dealt with us all on different levels.  There had to be a reason.  When we finally arrived at sin, that death was the ultimate consequence of sin, it drove him nuts.  As a doctor, as an OB, he was a bringer of life into the world.  It’s probably not too much to say that he had to do some reconciling with his faith and with his profession, that after all this he came to appreciate the gift of bringing life into the world all the more.

     But back to the hospital.  You all have met Bryan a couple years ago—Captain Underpants.  What could you say to him in that situation?  You know how happy and outgoing and optimistic he is.  What words would bring him comfort?  What words would help him console his wife?  There was a lot of silence and a lot of prayer.  We had nothing to offer.  No comfort.  No solace.  None of us were stupid enough to suggest that God needed another angel.  None of us were foolish enough to remind Bryan that Samuel’s death was part of God’s plan.  None of us would have ever told Bryan that Samuel was better off where he was now.  We had nothing.  When Bryan cried the anguished “Why?,” we were like Job’s friends and could give no answers and just sat in silence, occasionally offering hugs.

     Again, we buried an infant in our small group in the midst of a seminary community.  Again, we had to proclaim life eternal and hope in the midst of incredible pain, unimaginable loss, and soul-crushing sorrow.  Much like Peter at the end of John’s Gospel lesson a couple weeks ago or even Shadrack, Meeshack, and Abinego, we had no where else to go, no One else to Whom to point others than God, who promises to redeem all things, even that kind of suffering.

     I will not share with you all the conversations in this sermon.  Given the silence, that’s probably a good thing.  Many of you have experienced similar pain or loss in your own lives.  Some of you have shared those stories with me.  You know the emotions; you know the conversations.

     Those who have lived through such loss, however, experience the significant change that does happen in Job today.  I said in many ways our story has not changed in twenty chapters.  In most ways, that is true.  Job has lost everything.  His friends think he has sinned and that God is punishing him for his intransigence.  Job knows he has done nothing wrong.  Job’s complaint is bitter.  God is nowhere to be found.  All he longs for is the opportunity to ask God the question of why.  And so begins the wrestling match that helps cement the decedents of Abraham, and Jacob especially, as Israel, as the people who wrestle with or contend with God!  The friends see Job’s loss of health, family, wealth, and reputation and judge those as the benefits of a righteous relationship with God.  Job just wants to know God is there, that God understands his loss and pain, that he is not alone in his suffering.

     Make no mistake, Job wants to argue his case.  He knows he has not sinned.  Heck, he knows he has made extra sacrifices on behalf of his children.  Much like Paul later, Job understands himself to be righteous under the torah.  Still, that certainty is cold comfort when one is losing everything, isn’t it?  You and I know ourselves to be loved by God, to be redeemed by the work and person of His Son, yet how alone do we feel when we suffer?  How often do we wish we could make our case before God and prove ourselves before Him?  Or, better still, how often do we wish that He would simply explain Himself to us?  How does my suffering, how does your suffering, fit into His plan of salvation?  How does cancer, how does pain, how does all of this glorify You, Lord?  It is not for no reason that I often pray over you all for eyes to see and ears to hear how your suffering glorifies Him!  I think we can often bear a lot, so long as we know our Father is watching, our Father is paying attention.  If we know He is observing, we can put up with a great deal of suffering.  It’s that fear that Daddy is not watching that scares us, that we are outside His attention span or, worse, ability to redeem.  And Job today reminds us that it’s ok to feel that way and to ask God to make Himself known around us!  It is ok for us to wrestle with God and ask Him to make our lives make sense.  Maybe He will.  More often than not, though, He does not.

     Adventers will come to me, as have other parishioners in other parishes asking why God did not answer or show Himself better in their lives.  I don’t know.  Often, I suspect that if we knew completely what was in store for us, many of us would turn aside.  Had I known in the beginning of our pregnancy with David the impending deaths of Josiah and Samuel, would I have expressed my fears to my friends about God’s provision?  I doubt it.  I am certain I would not have entered the fight against human trafficking if I knew everything that would happen in that work.  The good has been great, but the bad has been diabolical.  Sometimes, as I work through life events with those in my care, I even wonder whether I would have obeyed God and accepted the call.  It’s hard.  And I’m the professional Christian among you!  I have more training; I have more study; I have way more experience.  Still, it is hard!  How much harder is it for you in your valleys?  How hard was it for Job?  I hope each of you realizes that Job never finds out from God why he suffers.  Job is given a new family and more wealth and is told by God to intercede on behalf of his friends because He will not accept their sacrifice.  Job even gets to contend directly with God!  But never does he learn the reason for his suffering; never does he learn that God was demonstrating to Satan that God knew Job loved God faithfully.  Would Job have been willing to suffer as an object lesson for Satan?  Would Job have the same love and determination for Satan that God did as the Creator?  We don’t know.

     Of course, you and I have another advantage.  We know Job’s ultimate prayer has been answered.  Our Advocator, Jesus Christ, has come down from heaven, died, and was buried, and on the third day raised from the dead that we might live eternally with God!  God has taught us once and for all that He knows our sufferings, our fears, even our worry about our loneliness in ways that we can truly never comprehend!  And we have all learned how much God loves each one of us.  He died for each and every one of us!  And so we face the diseases and deaths of our lives; we face the brokenness of our relationships, we face the failures of our plans or efforts knowing that God can and will redeem all things because such is His love for us and for His Son, Whom He sees in each one of us baptized into His death and promised a glorious share in His Resurrection!  And like any good family, we are given permission, blessing, even to wrestle.

     I half-joked a moment ago about Job earning the name of his patriarch, Jacob.  Israel means contend with or wrestle with God.  Though Job’s circumstances have not changed, the shift in his relationship with God has.  Job no longer speaks about God but, rather, desires or longs to argue with God.  He address shifts from talks about God to conversation with God.  And though to some Job complaints may sound bitter or accusatory or any number of other descriptions that make us uncomfortable, God is not offended!  Of all of humanity God chose Job to witness to Satan!  Of all of humanity, God describes Job as righteous.  God knew Job’s heart and was not surprised at all by Job’s faithfulness; nor was He offended by Job’s desire to confront the Lord and ask why.  True, God does not answer Job’s questions as Job may have wanted when this conversation began, but Job is at peace by the end of his conversation with God and trusts that God will be God.

     God being God, of course, means redemption will abound!  We prayed this morning that God’s grace may always precede and follow us, in part, because we know how hard this life is.  Were God’s grace not surrounding us, imagine how much hard this life would be!  If we could not look expectantly to redemption, how hopeless and vain would our lives truly be!

     I shared a terribly dark and difficult story with all of you this morning.  Some of you have walked similar roads in your own lives; some of you have walked even more difficult roads in your life journeys.  I wish we were all comfortable enough to share.  I wish I could point out some of those stories and share with one another how God has been at work in those messes.  Alas, we are not there yet.  But in that same vein, I should lead you to the empty tomb in the story I shared.  Both Scott & Sarah and Bryan & Lisa have children today.  They have each experienced some of those fears and worries and joys and frustrations that we parents shared with them before all that happened.  And like Job, despite the joy of wonderful children, there remains a dark spot, a tempering on their joy.  One beloved child is missing from their respective brood!

     Yet even that sadness has been tempered by God.  By virtue of their experience, Scott & Sarah have been invited into a number of groups and families to discuss their experience and decisions and rationales with other parents who are to give birth to a child with anencephaly.  Their conversations, their heartfelt testimony, has served any number of other couples in ways we cannot begin to recount.  And so, both realize that even though their son is not with him, his life and death has had a tremendous impact on others who never knew him.

     Bryan & Lisa’s story is equally redemptive.  There is a website out there called Mystery Worshipper.  Folks go to different churches and describe the church services.  Think of it as a precursor to Yelp reviews, except that the mystery worshippers only evaluate services in their tradition.  Baptists evaluate Baptist services; Roman Catholics evaluate Roman Catholic services; Episcopalians evaluate Episcopal services.  I mentioned that we had a memorial service for Samuel.  The Burial service was held at the Bywater’s sending parish in Tariffville, CT.  As God would have it, the Mystery Worshipper showed up the day they celebrated the brief life of Samuel and the promises that God makes to all His people.  The report is probably online for those who want to read it, but the Mystery worshipper was clearly blown away by Bryan holding the Paschal candle reciting the introduction “I am Resurrection and I am Life;” by the preacher, who began with Deuteronomy 29 and the secret things belong to the Lord our God and then grounded the congregations hope in God through Christ; by the little white urn that contained the baby’s ashes, and by the congregation’s singing of “Jesus loves Me.”  So powerful was the service and so palpable the care of the congregation  that the reporter was moved to tears that God had promised and would redeem even this!  In some ways, He already has.

     Of course, those of us who have experienced the death of a loved one in our lives realize the complete redemption has not yet occurred.  We may have experienced small redemptions like the families I described this morning.  But the final redemption is yet to come.  That, of course, will occur after we see our Redeemer face to face as the friend for Whom Job longed and we are invited into the inheritance which our Lord has prepared for us since the foundation of the world!  Until then, until that glorious Day, our Lord simply invites us to enter into relationship with Him, to wrestle with Him, to struggle with the pain and suffering of the world, trusting that in the end He will redeem it all, knowing that all this pain, all this struggle, whether our own or that like Job’s, will be so overwhelmed by the glory of the redemption, that we will not even be tempted to shed a tear!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

On country clubs and church . . .

     Our readings this week seemed hit or miss to me.  In the OT, we have the story of Esther.  Actually, we have part of the end of the book of Esther and part of the story that gives rise to the Jewish celebration of Purim.  Like Song of Songs a couple weeks ago, the book does not mention the name of God at all.  Yet, it is clear in the book that God is nudging history where it needs to go.  The book, of course, makes some modern preachers uncomfortable, as it ends with a Jewish uprising that results in more than 75,000 of their enemies dead.  They should probably be made more comfortable by the fact that the Jews, although entitled by edict of King Ahasuerus, take no spoils.  Reminiscent of the holy wars in Deuteronomy, the spoils of these skirmishes are left to God, reminding us that the Jews recognized Yahweh was at work in their deliverance and in their ability to destroy their enemies.  As you can tell, on the day after our big barbecue, I discerned neither would y’all be up for that involved a teaching, and I seriously questioned whether I was energetic enough to give it the care it deserves.

     The Gospel lesson is, unlike Esther, very familiar, or at least it should be.  Given some conversations with some clergy friends this week, I wonder whether we really inwardly digest Jesus’ warnings to those of us given cures?  Too many seem not care about those in their charge and certainly do not seem to worry a whit about millstones, even though Jesus seems rather emphatic in this passage.  Better still, most of us have sat through sermons where the preacher explained the hyperbole of the passage when it comes to plucking out eyes or cutting off feet or cutting off hands.  I wonder, though, if we really pay attention to Jesus’ warnings about Hell in this passage.  How bad must Hell really be if Jesus is willing to use these hyperboles?

     As you can tell, I ended up in James, sort of by default.  I was certain y’all did not need to be encouraged to rise up and kill your enemies by a sermon on Esther.  I was fairly confident that we knew the passage of Mark well enough, even if we do not always take the warnings seriously.  The Psalm would have required some significant unpacking that would have led us to the OT story or the Exodus and then to real life.  None of y’all wanted to sit through that, and I was pretty sure I did not want to stand through that!  My problem with the sermon on James was that it was not a typical attempt to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.  It was more of an attempt to give Adventers the tools to evaluate themselves.  That means, of course, it’s not a great sermon for visitors.  Visitors often remark that they feel like they walked into the middle of a conversation between us and God.  In some ways they really that, but in other ways they do not feel a part of the conversation.  Today will, I think for them, tend toward the latter.

     Our Sunday morning Bible Study class, led by Larry Douglass recently spent a good bit of time on James.  If you have any particular question about the letter, feel free to ask them.  Better still, please join them on Sunday mornings as they continue their study of the Word of God—right now they are learning all about talking asses and Balaam!  Not to bore you with too many details about the book, but its authorship has been attributed to the brother of Jesus, James, also the first bishop of Jerusalem.  Modern scholarship likes to wrestle with those questions.  A couple commentaries I read this week asserted that the book was probably based on one of James’ last sermons and then edited after his martyrdom and disseminated to the churches in the Diaspora.  Certainly, it is an authoritative book.  More than half of the verses include imperative or command verbs.  You and I know these as “Clean up your room,“ “Eat your vegetables,” and “Pick up your dirty clothes.”  Such commands are given by one in authority and are expected to be obeyed.  As to their other claims, I can speak only as authoritatively as they!

     Modern scholarship tries hard to forge a contrast between Paul and James.  I think their efforts are a big waste of time and, quite frankly, doomed to end in error.  James does famously instructs us that “Faith without works is dead,” just as Paul reminds us that faith is what God credits as righteousness.  I cannot imagine that either man, though, would find fault in the tagline of the other.  They might disagree with one another’s emphasis, but I imagine both, having been well-versed in the torah, would be shocked to find modern Christians trying to place them at enmity with one another.  James certainly agrees that our faith in Christ causes God to impute His righteousness towards us, and its that imputation and indwelling of the Holy Spirit that causes us to do the good works that we do, not some misplaced effort at works righteousness.  Similarly, Paul always expects that the disciples’ faith will be evidenced by their love toward one another, by their care and concern of the needy, and by their willingness to lay down their lives for others.  Both are writing to and caring for communities in different places, both physically and spiritually, but I do not think they would be happy with the fact that some modern theologians try to champion one over the other, let alone against one another.

     What brought me, in the end, I think to this letter is the self-evaluation that is happening in some corners of the parish.  I’m not sure the reason, but I have had a lot of Adventers, maybe as many as two dozen, spend some time these last few weeks wondering if we have changed, if we have changed enough, if we are making a mistake, and whether I have given up on us.  As I listened to them and asked Adventers to vocalize better the things with which they are wrestling, it often comes back to the several year old self-discernment among you that you were a country-club.  If you are visiting today, one of the self-descriptions Adventers used during their search process was that they were a country club looking to get more focused on being a church.  To many clergy, such language was a put off.  To the bishop, and later to me, it was a description that captured some Adventers, though I still, even after nearly four years among them, have not learned what benefits one got from the “country club.”

     Part of the concern, of course, is the launch of the new feeding ministry and the associated information we have gleaned as a result of that launch.  Many of us thought hunger was not a big issue around us a few months ago.  We have distributed somewhere between 2000 and 2200 pounds of food over the last two months in our community with very, very, very little organization and promotion.  Heck, the ministry does not even have a name yet!  Unbeknownst to most around here, we have helped our own, we have helped our neighbors, we have helped those who serve us in this community, and we have clearly made an impact at one of the local schools.  Best of all?  Because of the financial support of Adventers, the funding for the ministry has come from what the Vestry might call “irregular sources” at a level which has meant the new ministry need not come out of operational budget.  Better even still?  The funding levels have meant we could give the food to those in need rather than charge them!  And still there is money for a couple more months.  When I arrived, I promised y’all in public and in private conversations that money follows ministry.  The glaring lack as an outside observer back then was that we had no ministry, no purpose.  We may or may not yet, God will certainly tell us, but there are worse appellations by which to be known than as “the church who tried to feed people.”

     Part of the concern is regarding our corporate life together has been the changeover.  Folks notice when other folks leave; folks notice when new folks show up.  Why the turnover?  What does it mean?  In some cases, Adventers have been absent because of health issues.  We do a bad job of sharing those with one another, and I will speak more to that in a few moments.  But, in some cases, people have left for other parishes or just drifted away.  Some have shared their reasons; others have left us wondering.  Being a good Episcopalian congregation, we are always worried about change – it is not for no reason we are called God’s Frozen Chosen!  So Adventers have wrestled with that issue, too.

     Part of the problem, I think, is that y’all know me better, and I know you better.  I know the first year I was intentional in my efforts not to change anything, unless it was clearly coming from the parish.  Part of that was so I could see simply how Advent really worked.  Who did what around here?  What voices were respected?  What whispers were ignored?  Add to that the fact I am rather introverted, and we needed time to get to know one another better.  Now, when I speak about something, I can be a little more blunt.  Even if I choose not to say anything, y’all have become better readers of my tone or body language.  Silent communication is probably flowing much better between us now.  So also, I hope, is trust.  Some among us thought I might view Advent as a stepping stone parish or deep pocket solution or some other benefit accruing spot as befitting a great country club.  I think our time among you, and the way that we live, plus a gazillion conversations, have helped people understand me better and why I came, why I stay, why I continue to hope and pray for us as a parish, and even why sometimes I wish I had the power of the lightning bolt to speed things along!

     I also recognize that I am probably not the one to lead Advent into its next historical moment.  Much of my calling has been to reawaken in you that faith you had, that spiritual DNA that lay dormant here for some years.  Clearly, I am an evangelical in the classic sense of the word.  How do we spread the kingdom of God best in our community?  How do we get others who are not yet members of this body to join us in the serving of and glorifying of God in our community?  At some point, given my focus, there will need to refocus on the needs of the congregation.  We don’t focus much on that now because of our collective age.  Ideally, as James points out today, a healthy congregation has an eye on the world around it and an eye on itself.  For too long our eyes were focused on us.  It took a particular impassioned leader to pry our eyes away from our country club bellies and look to the world.  I recognize and understand, though, we need to keep an eye on ourselves, just not necessarily in the ways that we did.

     Are we at Advent more of a country club or more of a church today?  It’s a question with which we should all be wrestling in prayer and in discernment with the Holy Spirit.  When folks have come in to ask me that question, or close variations, I make a few mad by putting the question back to them.  What do you think?  James gives us a couple evidences to which we should look.

     Are any among you suffering?  One of the very few changes I made was the introduction of the Healing Service on Sunday’s.  Yes, y’all were patient and willing to try it if it might get important people in the RC or Anglican church here.  For those who have come in more recent times, one of my “selling points” to the congregation was that Justyn and Francis were adamant that churches needed to reclaim their position as healing communities.  Far too few churches pray for and anoint with oil the sick and suffering.  Of those that do, most make it a weekday service rather bringing it front and center as a main part of their corporate worship.  I put it front and center, in consultation with the folks on Liturgy and Worship, but only four times a year.  Yet, even in those limited numbers, how many folks have experienced a miraculous healing?  I am often amazed at what constitutes a miracle in the eyes of another Christian.  I long for and look for those incredibly flashy evidences.  God, though, especially at Advent, seems to rejoice in quiet curveballs.  Time and time and time again, Adventers share how God responded to my and their prayer, not as I hoped He would or necessarily prayed that He would, but as what was best for them.  More amazingly, He has done these “mundane” works in such a way that even Bartimaeus could see His sovereign hand amongst us.

     Of course, how many people hate that service?  How many Adventers, in particular, hate the time spent in prayer for another?  How often do we wish that service would go faster, and so we skip that service?  Or, to flip the coin over, how many of us refuse to seek healing?  How many of us think to keep our mouths shut, our needs to ourselves, rather than sharing with the Body we call Advent of our need?  Time and time again after the Healing service, Adventers come to me asking me to pray and anoint them privately because they do not want other Adventers that they are struggling.  I have had Adventers with cancer, with vision problems, with musculature problems, with relationship problems intentionally withhold such need simply to keep up appearances.  When we who are in need refuse to share that need, we are being selfish and stunting the growth of others among us.  There are Adventers with the gift of prayer, there are Adventers with the gift of loving service among us.  When we keep our suffering to ourselves, we deprive them of their opportunity to serve God and grow in their understanding of how He uses them to His glory!  Does that sound like we’ve made the complete turn?

     Confession.  Hoo boy.  That was an issue that came up this week in a big way.  It’s always fun as a priest to get to tell someone they must repent.  Everyone, Adventers especially, respond so well to that instruction.  By the way, if you are visiting today, you might have figured out that I, and many of them, received a double share of sarcasm.  We like to claim it was from the Holy Spirit, but it is, admittedly, hard to be sure.

     Apart from the corporate confession each time we celebrate the Eucharist, how many of us are willing to confess to one another when we sin against them; even more rarely, how many of us are willing to listen to confession?  We give great lip service to the priesthood of all believers in the Episcopal Church, don’t we?  We claim to want to value the ministry of everyone in the church.  But do we?  More importantly, do we at Advent?  Be honest with yourself, how well do you do seeking out those you have wronged at Advent?  Be more honest with yourself, how well do you do granting forgiveness, reminding yourself that you forgive because He first forgave you?  I know.  That was another cheap shot.  We are exhausted from the barbecue.  We are tired.  And the Holy Spirit nearly ripped our underwear on that spiritual wedgie.  James this morning reminds us of the central nature of confession in the Christian community.  When we wrong each other, we should be seeking each other out to apologized.  Just as significantly, when someone seeks us out to apologize, we are called by God to forgive them in His name.  It’s both an incredible privilege and a weighty responsibility, isn’t it?  We like to judge the apology; we like more to judge the effect of the sin against us.  We are slow to forgive.  Yet James reminds us that such behavior is central to the well-being of the Christian community.  So, I ask again, does it sound like we have made that pivot from a country club to a church?

     It’s at this point that James brings up the illustration of Elijah.  My guess is that some of you wrestled with me a bit over whether you need the Rite of Confession or should be granting forgiveness.  That’s ok.  It does not require a spiritual superhero to make that possible.  I often think of Elijah as the “Whining Prophet.”  I know, Elijah has some great miracles attached to his name.  Elijah raises the widow’s son from the dead.  Elijah prays the prayer that closes the heavens with respect to rain for more than three years.  Elijah is the prophet who does battle with all the prophets of Ba’al, mocking the prophets and their idol during the battle.  Elijah is the prophet who is carried up to heaven in the whirlwind.  Elijah, along with Moses, is present during the Transfiguration of our Lord.  Jesus speaks with him and Moses about His upcoming death and Resurrection—talk about being on the inside of salvation history.   I could name more deeds of power and honorifics, but to do so, I think, separates him from us.  James does not want that.  James wants us to understand that God chose to work through Elijah, just as He desires to work through you and through me.  Our response, not our personalities, is what matters to God.  He can mold us, shape us, and disciple us, but only if we agree to be used by Him, to think of and treat Him truly as Lord.  What makes Elijah special is nothing inherent in him, just as there is nothing inherently special in each of us!  What makes us special, what distinguishes us is that God has chosen us and to work through us!

     What else distinguishes the people of God from other secular gatherings?  Discipleship.  How well are you participating in discipleship opportunities?  By that, I mean, what kind of effort are you putting into knowing the mind and heart of God?  How well are you attuning yourself to His desire for you and the world around you?  That’s the theological way of asking whether we are studying God’s word in Scriptures well enough.  That’s the theological way of asking whether we are attuning ourselves to God through prayer, either as a personal devotion or corporate exercise such as Lectio Divina.  That’s the theological way of asking whether the worship of God is of primary importance in our lives, as we were all reminded this summer during our study of the shema.  That’s the theological way of asking if we are participating in small groups that address the needs in our lives, be they the challenges of parenting adult children or wrestling with questions about our faith.  That’s the theological way of asking what kind of stewards are we with our time, talents, and treasures.

     I know.  We’re tired.  These are unfair questions the day after that fantastic but tiring event of yesterday.  It was cruel for the lectionary editors to select this reading for this day however many years ago.  Do notice, though, I’m not giving you your answers.  I am asking you to evaluate your answers to those questions in full conversation, full dialogue, with God.  Is He the most important person in our lives?  Do we truly appreciate what He has done for us in the life and work and death and Resurrection of His Son?  Do we really believe ourselves capable of grasping His promises, however tenuously, here while on earth?  Do we really think He can make of us other Elijah’s, other Deborah’s, other Hannah’s, other Joseph’s, other Peter’s, other Mary’s, or other James’?  Or do we think we are impossible clay for Him to mold?

      James brings up one more important task of the disciple, and I have mentioned it earlier in the “drift away” comments.  I promised I would get back to it.  Do not raise your hands, but who has drifted away from the Body of Christ during your time at Advent?  I’m not talking about people who left Advent for Good Shepherd or St. George’s or even other denominations.  Who do you know that has drifted away from the Body of Christ?  Put differently, how do you know those other folks just left Advent because they wanted better preaching, more youth opportunities, less fighting, or whatever excuses?  Somebody asked them where they were.  Too often, brothers and sisters, folks drift away.  They sleep in on a rainy cloudy Sunday because they are tired.  The babies get younger and play soccer or whatever.  Golf or NFL football replaces God as the most important thing in their lives.  They don’t need the Body to worship God.

     Discipling is like training for a sport.  It’s easy to slip back into old habits.  The world competes for our time, and we forget who created time.  We think we are lovingly serving our children by dragging them from club to club or athletic contest to athletic contest, when, in reality, we are cutting them off from knowing the One person in the universe who truly, utterly, and unconditionally loved them.  Then we are shocked, as they get older, that He’s just not that important in their lives.  It works for us, but they are fine without Him.  We, more often than not, say nothing.  You know, Barbara Jones and I spent Thursday morning at a Commission on Aging Event this week.  They pounded home the idea that loneliness has the same physical effect as smoking 15 cigarettes a day.  Tons of you are in health care, so you can speak better to the physical consequences than I ever could.  It impacts our heart and lungs, it impacts our diet and weight, and it impacts our mental health.  If only there were an antidote!  Wait, there is!

     We moan and complain and whine and whimper about the modern age.  Nobody has time for sitting on the porch sipping tea in a rocking chair watching the world pass by.  No we don’t know our neighbors, we exchange information with our friends and family with 140 character limit texts, and we’d rather stare at our phones than interact with other, live human beings.

     This body, this gathering of brothers and sisters ought to be the antidote to loneliness and drift away.  I wish you had an opportunity to hear folks from my side of the conversations.  This might shock you all, but most folks don’t come because I’m eye candy or a fantastic preacher.  They are not drawn to Advent because of the loving care with which we conduct liturgy or the emphasis we place on programs.  They come because one of you invited, or rather re-invited them.  I get the sheepish apologies.  You know, Father, I had tickets for a Titans game and then my grandson had a soccer match and then my other granddaughter had a gymnastics competition and before I knew it, I’d been gone x number of weeks or months.  Then, so-and-so called me.  Or, I ran into so-and-so at this club or this restaurant or whatever.  They reminded me they missed me, and they reminded me I missed them.

     Let that sink in for a second.  They weren’t re-drawn into the Body because of the fancy “church” things.  They were drawn back in because they were missed or because they missed.  A few are here this morning.  Ask them why they left for a bit.  Ask them what brought them back.  Of course, I used the imaginary sign for church things.  That was intentional, James clearly understands the importance of fellowship in the life of the disciple.  No doubt when you read this passage, or rather listened to Rosemary read it to us this morning, you had in mind those who left the Christian faith for other religions.  Read James again.  If anyone wanders from the truth and is brought back by another.  What more important truth is there than the worship and adoration of God for the saving work He has done for us in Christ Jesus?!

     And here’s the cool part.  James, the brother of Jesus.  The guy who probably gave him noogies as a brother and thinks that those of us whose brothers and sisters think they are god in our lives get off easy!  James reminds us that they simply act of bringing another back into the fold will cover a multitude of sins.  I know, we want to put that work on the shoulders of our professional Christians.  Why don’t we want the benefits that James says comes from simply reaching out to those not here?  Why are we willing to let them continue their drift after a few weeks?  A few months?  A few years?  In some ways, I wish this would have been last week’s readings.  How much more meaningful would some of those conversations have been yesterday, had we been re-inviting those who have drifted away and not found their way to another gathering of the Body of Christ?

     All of this, of course, allows us to answer that question I posed at the beginning.  James’ letter is addressed to groups of God’s people gathered throughout the Diaspora.  More than that, though, James’ letter allows us even to evaluate ourselves in light of God’s revealed purposes for us.  How are we doing attuning ourselves to our Father in heaven?  How would He do our performance evaluations as His chosen ambassadors?  Hopefully, you and I can point to some things we do well and things upon which we need to work.  Similarly, when it comes to the corporate, that is the body called Advent’s, work to which He calls us, how are we doing.  No doubt each of us can think of things we do well and things we do poorly, indeed.

     The great news, the Gospel news, is that all He requires is that we repent of our sins and ask of Him the grace and power to try and succeed the next time, be we the ones who ignored the nudges of the Holy Spirit in our lives, the voices of those around us crying for help, those who fought hard to be self-sufficient and not allow our brothers and sisters to exercise their ministerial gifts, those who relate much better to a whining Elijah or a human things focused Peter, a body which came to self-identify as a country club, or even the ones who drifted away.  There is, quite frankly, no limit to what He can accomplish with those with willing and contrite hearts.

In His Peace,

Brian†