God’s Creative Connection, Part 2: Spoken into Creation

Genesis1:1-2:4a

There is a restaurant in Austin Texas, El Arroyo, that has become famous for its sign. Every day they put up some new witty saying – often reflecting one of the issues of the day, sometimes just off-the-wall funny.  Like this one: There’s no way that “everybody” was Kung Fu fighting.

Or this one: We all think we’re smart until we try to turn on someone else’s shower.

The sign has its own Twitter account. It’s very popular, and it caught my attention because, many years ago, I worked there – for about five minutes.

I started working there as a waitress when I was in graduate school. I had worked in other restaurants before – it wasn’t the greatest work, but it wasn’t bad. So I thought this job would be okay. But then I had a run-in with the manager. I going about my business and suddenly she snapped on me, barking out orders like a bad mother. If you’d heard her, you’d know what I’m talking about. I didn’t respond to it very well; I called her the next day to tell her I was done.

This was unfortunate. It could have gone so differently. Because it’s so easy to ask for something kindly rather than scream murderously.

And that is one of the things that struck me this week as I spent time with this creation story from Genesis 1. God speaks the world into existence – gently, gently.

Let there be light.  Let there be; it’s like a suggestion from the creator of the world, from the source of all wisdom. It’s as though God looked around at this formless, wet, dark, limitless void and out of pure goodness thought to do something about it. “Let us bring light into this void,” God said, because God is light. We light the candles in worship to symbolize the presence of the light of the world here with us. God brings light into existence, God brings light to us.

Then God separated the light from the dark, giving order to the cycle of days. And God then tackled the waters. There is much to say about water.

Ancient people had a healthy fear of water. Water is a forceful thing, a chaotic thing – storms, floods, mudslides. People have always known that water has the power to give life, but also has the power, when unleashed, to take life. And the people of Israel knew their God to be the one who brings order out of the chaos. The story imagines that God’s first act to tame the waters was to separate the waters into the water above and the water below. When these people looked up at the blue sky they imagined that it was all water, and that God had created a dome which protected us from the waters above. And the dome was called sky.

Then God turned back to the earth and gathered the waters together, organizing the wet and the dry, so plants would have a place to be and grow. In a similar way, God ordered the lights in the sky, separating day from night. Then God got about the business of creating life.

Creatures of all kinds, we are told, God says, let there be. The creatures that walk and creep upon the land, the creatures that fly in the sky, the creatures that swim in the seas – every kind, let there be. The rich diversity of life on this planet is God’s good intention of how it should be.

Finally, God created humankind. God spoke us into existence, saying “Let us create humankind in our image.” And God created them in God’s image; male and female, God created them in God’s image.

Notice that this is different from what we read in the second chapter, the second creation story about Adam and Eve. They are different stories, coming out of different traditions, each with its own purpose. The story of Adam and Eve, you might say, is the “Why Bad Things Happen to Good People,” version. The story we have before us today, the first story, is the grand, ordered narrative where God is truly at the center of it all, where God reveals God’s essentially good nature.

At every stage of creation, God declared God’s pleasure with it. “It is good.” And at the end, God said, “It is very good.” Then God rested.

And this is, perhaps, the most extraordinary thing of all. God rests, and the planets still spin. God rests, and the rains fall, the sun shines, day follow night, season follows season, plants, animals, and humans are born and live and grow and die, then new lives begin and so it goes, on and on. And God takes God’s rest.

This is not to say that God grew bored with the world and disengaged from it. The rest of the scriptures make very clear that God is deeply connected to us and the whole creation. Isn’t it fascinating, though, that God can let go? And that we, of course, are called to do the same.

As God rests, so should we. God made us as co-creators of this beautiful world along with God. And I assume we are to follow God’s lead. As God is gentle and kind, as God takes pleasure in the creation, so shall we.

The commandment that would come later says, “Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.” We would do well to remember it.

We might remember the Sabbath as a statement of our inherent worth to God – a worth that is given to each one of us in equal measure. As I read this story of creation, I see it as a story of gift. God holds the world lightly, with grace and blessing, and in the end, takes sacred joy in this creation. How could we ever imagine that we should do any differently?

Hold it lightly, as God holds the creation lightly. Know that we are all, every one of us on this earth, created in God’s image. Hold it lightly, with an open hand, not a closed fist. We are all, every one of us worthy. Remember this as we prepare to write our letters today. All have the right to food and shelter and human dignity. God made this beautiful world with enough for us all. And we each have a hand in keeping it this way.

God’s Creative Connection, Part 1: The Power of Love

Acts 2:1-21

In the middle of my middle year of seminary, I went with about 30 of my classmates on a trip to Cuba. It was a required cross-cultural experience for all M.Div. students. Each year they take the second-year students someplace guaranteed to pull them out of their comfort zones. It gives students a greater perspective on how faith intersects with culture.

During our trip we visited quite a few churches of all kinds – Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist, and Pentecostal. One Sunday morning when we were in a city called Ciego de Avila, we managed a double-header. Our group split up and half of us attended worship at a Pentecostal church while the other half went to a Baptist church. At the Pentecostal church, we were greeted with kisses from perfect strangers – this happened in all Pentecostal church we attended, by the way. During the service we experienced some, hopefully, minor communication problems that we tried to fumble our way through. Being a guest can be difficult when you don’t know for sure what is expected of you, but our hosts were gracious.

The Pentecostal service started earlier than the Baptist service, and so when our bus picked us up and returned to the Baptist church to collect the rest of our group, they were still in the middle of worship.  We were torn between wanting to join them in worship and not wanting to disturb the worship.

This church was, like many Cuban churches, a small storefront. The front windows were open, but covered with iron bars. This was often the case in Cuban stores and homes as well – a remnant from a time when some few people had things worth stealing, and many others would have been tempted to steal them. The church was quite full, and to walk in and try to find a place to sit would have caused a disturbance, we were quite sure. So we remained outside. And it was behind iron bars that we stood on the sidewalk watching the worship going on inside.

Well, our efforts to be unobtrusive actually caused us to be somewhat obtrusive. Some of the Cubans began handing hymnals to us so we could sing with them. For reasons I don’t think I could explain, we did not pull the hymnals through the bars so we could hold them comfortably, but instead we reached our arms through the bars to hold the hymnals on the inside.

It was a strange experience of feeling together and yet separated. We were worshiping with our American and Cuban brothers and sisters inside the church and yet we were very aware of the bars that separated us. I suppose you could say those bars were symbolic of the barriers between our two countries, our two languages, our two cultures. It was just another aspect of the daily struggle we experienced during our time there.

We reached the point in the worship service where they began the celebration of communion. At this point, the bars felt even more like an unwanted obstruction. What would we do? Could we share communion with one another through a set of iron bars?

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On the day of Pentecost, Jesus’ followers were still inhabiting that upper room, where we left them last week devoting themselves to prayer. Pentecost was a religious festival, a reason for Jews from all over the diaspora to travel on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, bringing the first fruits of the harvest to the temple. While the disciples were cloistered in their room, the streets below them were crowded with a vibrant mix of people, cultures, languages.

There is no reason the men of Galilee should have been able to speak the native languages of all who were together in Jerusalem that day. But the Spirit gave them power to do so. God who knew their needs more completely that any of them did, gave them the ability to speak in a way they could be heard. And it really started something.

The good news began its travels across languages, across borders, across mountains and seas; across nationalities, across races, across religions and creeds. The word of the Lord, by the power of the Spirit had wings.

Jews and Christians, and Muslims, as well, are called the people of the word. Our faith is founded on the word of God. Particularly for Jews and Christians, who share a common testament, and understand the very creation of the world as an act of divine speech. God said, “Let there be light;” then God said, “It is good.”

Later, God spoke to a man named Abram, and guided him to a place and a promise that would reach all the peoples of the world through all the generations of the world. God brought life to barren men and women, God sustained life in barren places, all for the sake of this promise.

Later still, God spoke through judges, priests, and prophets, mending what had been broken, healing what had been wounded, all for the sake of this promise.

And then God spoke through Jesus, whose words and actions; life, death and resurrection from the dead, transformed people and brought them together for a common purpose: to carry the good news of God’s redeeming love to every corner of the world. The promise incarnate.

And yet – we continue to divide ourselves, to erect barriers that separate us, to shut people out, away from the promise. In our efforts to separate ourselves from others, we try to put limits on God’s redeeming love.

For God, of course, there are no language or cultural barriers. As the creator of all that is, God understands us intimately, completely. God speaks our language fluently, whatever language it might be. And it is only through God, and the amazing power of the Spirit, that the promise truly lives, moves and grows.

For us, it is a matter of letting God. The first followers didn’t need to open the window to let the Spirit in, she burst in on her own. Yet it is critical for us to understand that, in another way, they did let the Spirit in – in the way they devoted themselves, together, to prayer.

What if the first followers of Jesus had failed to call upon the Spirit, but had instead attempted to construct their own plan for salvation?

Do we invite the Spirit in and let the Spirit take hold? Or do we erect barriers, like those bars across the windows of the Cuban Baptist Church? How can we share together in the body of Christ when there are barriers separating us?

On that day in Ciego de Avila, we didn’t. As we stood outside those iron bars listening to the great thanksgiving prayer of communion, we began to see the futility of barriers. The Cubans inside looked at us outside, and we knew they weren’t going to pass the bread and the cup through a set of bars. The time had come to be a disruption. We all began to pour through the door, just as the Spirit blew through the walls of that upper room in Jerusalem. We had no common language, but we shared an understanding that the presence of Christ in the sacrament, the work of the Holy Spirit, eliminates barriers.

There is no barrier that can keep out the power of God’s Spirit. There is no wall that can stop the power of God’s word in action, communicating the good news of our salvation. There is no thing – no hate, no fear, no doubt that can stop the power of God’s love. Let it in, let the Spirit move in us and around us. Let the power that is God’s love fill the world.

Photo: the streets of Ciego de Avila, Cuba

Closer and Closer, Part 5: Bearing Witness

Acts 1:6-14        

Last week there was a special election in Montana, and in a spectacle unlike anything we have seen before, one of the candidates grabbed a reporter by the neck, slammed him to the ground, and punched him. Or, at least that was what he said.  There was no video of this. There was an audio recording which sounded shocking enough. Initially, beyond that, it was the word of the reporter against the word of the candidate, who had a completely different account of what happened.

But later, we heard from three eyewitnesses who were in the room and saw the whole thing. They said, yes it really happened, and even provided more details. At this point it became much more awkward for this candidate, and harder for him or anyone else to say that it didn’t happen. The man was charged with assault – and then he won his election, so it wasn’t a completely bad day for him. I do wonder now if, once he gets to Washington, his colleagues will want to give him a wide berth. Just in case.

If you ask a trial attorney, he or she will probably tell you eyewitness testimony is not reliable. Even when witnesses feel quite sure their recollections are accurate, they might be completely wrong. There are many reasons why this happens in trials, such as the length of time that passes between an event and a trial, or the anxiety a witness is experiencing at the time of the event, or the effect of having been prompted and asked leading questions that influence one’s recollections. It is certainly fallible. Nonetheless, in daily life, eyewitness testimony is a powerful thing and we rely on it a lot.

In this story from Acts, Jesus is counting on it. He is relying on his followers to be his witnesses, not only in Judea, but to the ends of the earth. They ask him a question about what he will do and he responds by telling them what he expects they will do. Their reaction is unsurprising; we would have done the same: they just stood there, speechless.

These first followers were not quite ready to carry on the work without Jesus. They were pretty good followers, but at this point they did not know how to be the leaders of this movement. They probably didn’t even understand what Jesus wanted from them. What did it mean to be his witnesses? What were they bearing witness to? How were they supposed to do it?

They were being asked to carry the good news to the ends of the earth, but they did not even understand what the good news was. They still thought the good news is that the land of Israel will be restored to greatness. This is what they asked him when they gathered together. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” They had no concept, yet, of how far and wide will be the consequences of his redemptive death and resurrection. Again, I have to say, we would very likely not be any different.

This is outside the realm of what they have experience with. And they can’t quite discern the shape of what they are being asked to participate in.

When the angels ask, “Why are you still standing here?” they don’t know what they should be doing. But the question suggests that they should be doing something other than what they are doing. So they do what they know – they return to Jerusalem, to the upper room. In fact, they do what they need to do.

There is a time for every matter under heaven and this is a time to wait. Wait for the power of the Spirit that will come upon you. Wait for the moment when you will know what it means to bear witness, and you will be empowered to bear witness. Wait, but this is not a passive waiting.

During this season of Easter, we have been talking about the ways Jesus draws us closer to him and closer to one another. We have contemplated the stories of his post-resurrection appearances to his friends and followers. We have remembered the stories of how he walked beside them, drew near enough to touch them, spoke to them. We have recalled some of the things he taught his disciples earlier, which make sense now in a new way. We have seen that there is no way we can draw near to Jesus without drawing nearer to one another, brothers and sisters in Christ, for as the Apostle Paul would say, we are, collectively, his body and each individually members of it.

Let us recall some words from the gospel lesson we heard last Sunday, from the 14^th chapter of John when Jesus said to his disciples, “Because I live you also will live” for “I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.” Our relationship with Christ gives us life inseparable from him, but also, inseparable from one another, who are all collectively, in him. We must nurture this communal life.

Our life together is made stronger by taking time to do things together. In addition to our worship gatherings, we make time for fellowship after worship each week. We have groups that gather together regularly, like Presbyterian Women, the sermon roundtable, Sunday school classes, Jam, and choir – for spiritual support and learning. And, we work together for the sake of the world, like our weekly tutoring program and various other projects.

Coming together in work and play and worship are important things for us to do as the body of Christ. They draw us closer to God and closer to one another at the same time. Yet, there is something important in this story that we are likely to miss – something that is as important, or more important, than other things we do.

When his followers returned to Jerusalem they went back to the upper room, where they gathered together with some others of his followers, where they all constantly devoted themselves to prayer.

I am afraid that too often prayer is an afterthought for us. I am afraid that too many of us share the opinion that prayer is best left in the hands of the professionals, and that for the rest of us it is sufficient to simply make our prayer requests. I am afraid that too many of us believe that one’s prayer life is strictly private business. And I am afraid that this is true for too many congregations in our denomination and other mainline denominations.

When I did a google search on the subject of praying together, I came up with a lot of material from Baptist churches and some from charismatic churches. But nothing from any churches like ours.

You might want to push back right now and remind me that we have a lot of prayer in our worship service. And you might remind me that we have a policy of praying before and after every church meeting. And you are right, but it’s not enough. We need to devote ourselves to prayer.

You see, Jesus’ first followers were lost, just as we are lost, when it came to the matter of responding to his call to bear witness. They stood dumbly, waiting for who knows what. It took some nudging from the angels to get them moving, but then they did something right – something truly necessary. They devoted themselves to prayer.

If they had not devoted themselves to prayer, they would have been unable to make a faithful decision about replacing Judas who had betrayed Christ. If they had not, they would not have been ready for the Spirit when she blew in that room a week later, on the day of Pentecost. If they had not, they might have drifted off, somewhere else, unable to even see the point in remaining in Jerusalem any longer.

It was the power of praying together that made these men and women ready to receive the Spirit and able to respond to Jesus’ call to be his witnesses to Jerusalem, to Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

It is by the power of praying together that we will be ready to receive the Spirit and able to respond to Jesus’ call to be his witnesses to Huber Heights and to the ends of the earth.

It is prayer that connects us with God. Without it we are just a gathering of nice people that like to be together. With it we are the body of Christ. And we have words to say, stories to tell, the gospel to share in powerful ways.

Last week, I shared with you how we gather the preschool children together here for Children’s chapel. Let me tell you, now, what happens when we pray. When I say, “let us pray,” and begin to offer a prayer, I hear all these little voices around me praying too. They don’t need me to give them the words – they have their own words and they are unafraid to offer them to God.

Are we unafraid? Now is a good time to begin shedding any fears. Prayer is merely a conversation with God. Among friends. About whatever is on your heart.

Now is a good time.