Month: September 2013

 A Sermon for the 19^th Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 21 – Year C – 29 September 2013
John Edward Miller, Rector

 There is great gain in godliness combined with contentment; for we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it; but if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these. But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.

But as for you, man of God, shun all this; pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. In the presence of God, who gives life to all things, and of Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I charge you to keep the commandment without spot or blame until the manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ, which he will bring about at the right time– he who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords. It is he alone who has immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see; to him be honor and eternal dominion. Amen.

As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.

                                                                                           – 1 Timothy 6:6-19

The Collect

O God, you declare your almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity: Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, running to obtain your promises, may become partakers of your heavenly treasure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 Did you ever receive letters from your parents when you were away at summer camp or at college? I didn’t have the camp experience, but my college post office box got regular installments from home, especially during my freshman year, and particularly before big party weekends. There would be sermons from my home church, notes and cards, as well as the well-timed care packages filled with homemade goodies. All of these were my parents’ efforts to keep in touch, and to remind me that I was loved.  And to make me think before I did anything unwise or unseemly. In retrospect I’m thankful for my Mom and Dad’s long-distance guidance, which mostly worked.

I regret that today’s campers and students don’t have the experience of that daily trek to the post office. I know that mobile phones, social media, face time, and Skype are very heartening ways of keeping parents and children virtually present to each other. However, the presence of these media is not comparable to the impact made by a sealed, hand-addressed envelope or parcel. Looking through the tiny window in a post office box, and seeing a letter inside, got the pulse pounding. All mail was welcome, because we knew it took time and effort to write a letter. We would hold it in our hands and determine the identity of the sender by recognizing the handwriting or a return address.

One day, though, I pulled a small envelope from my box and noticed that my name and address were typed. Flipping it over, I read the typewritten return address. It was from my childhood home. This was a mystery, I thought. Who would type a letter to me from home? And then I knew. It was from Dad, and I got choked up just looking at the typing. Now that may not seem unusual in the least, but it was. In fact it was extraordinary. My father was totally disabled by polio, and because of paralysis, had no use of his arms and hands. But he was super smart and loaded with ingenuity. Dad figured out how to set up a typewriter on the footboard of a bed, and with the help of my Mom and brother, he was then able to sit up and type with his toes. Every letter he composed was a magnificent gift. He sent words meant to motivate, as well as to praise me. Dad had a great sense of humor, and with tongue in cheek he would joke about fraternity life and its excesses. He never got to see my college, or my fraternity house, but he let me know that he was with me, cheering me on to enjoy life, but to keep my head about me as I did. Along with Mom’s letters and sermon-enclosures, his short, pithy notes helped me do just that.      

The Apostle Paul did not have a son. But his letters to Timothy sound like epistles sent by a father to his son far from home. Paul’s correspondence to Timothy is filled with words of encouragement, loving exhortation, and pastoral advice. Paul was Timothy’s mentor in the Christian faith, yet his regard for his young colleague is not simply professional. Paul’s purpose was lovingly parental; he wrote to keep his protégé on track, and to shepherd him toward worthy pursuits.

In this effort he also sounds a great deal like Shakespeare’s Polonius, who imparts wisdom to his son, Laertes, who was preparing to leave Denmark to further his education in Paris. Polonius’ words in this monologue are some of the most often quoted from Hamlet.  He says:

 Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame!

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stayed for. There, my blessing with thee.

And these few precepts in thy memory

Look thou character. . . .

Give every man thy ear but few thy voice;

Take each man’s censure but reserve thy judgment.

. . . Neither a borrower nor a lender be,

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This above all: to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell. My blessing season this in thee.[1]

 “To thine own self be true.” In other words, take care of yourself, and be mindful of your moral compass; there are many temptations that can lead you astray.

Our beloved Parson, Holt Souder, had his own version of that kind of encouragement in his youth. I remember him fondly recalling that his grandmother had a habit of snagging him just as he was leaving the family home for a date or a gathering of his Charlottesville buddies. She’d call out, “Holt, come here for a moment.” Her teenaged grandson would dutifully report to her chair in the living room. She’d look him in the eye and say, every time, “Holt, before you go out tonight, I want you to remember who you are and where you’ve come from.” That charge was her way of keeping her grandson on track with family mores and standards of conduct. Holt’s grandmother had the long range in view; she promoted his love of the Episcopal Church and his interest in the ordained ministry. Good shepherds have an eye on the future, as well as a realistic understanding of the devices and desires of the human heart. They know that all we like sheep have a remarkable tendency to wander.

Urgings of this sort are a parent’s privilege and sacred duty. You may have delivered some of your own from time to time. I hope so, because you have much wisdom and experience to draw upon as you counsel your children. Parental exhortations are calls to integrity, and honor, and virtue. They extol the ethics of the moral obligation and the doing of good. And they set the bar of kindness, respect, and civility at a height that exceeds our grasp, but inspires our best nonetheless. Sometimes I think that Holt recounted his grandmother’s admonition for my benefit too. You see, our relationship was not unlike that of Paul and Timothy. Like the Apostle, Holt’s fondest and most fervent wish is that his Timothy, John Miller, would always remember who he is, and whose he is.

Shortly before he died, Holt spoke almost those very words from his bed in the hospital ICU. In the letter Paul calls Timothy “man of God,” and that’s what my Parson wanted me to remember as well. It was his benediction, his “God be with you” moment, and I’ll never forget it.

Paul counsels Timothy to avoid the distractions that would lead him toward paths of self-gratification rather than the way of true godliness. He admonishes him to stay focused, to fight the good fight of faith, and to “take hold of eternal life.” But that begs the question, “What makes life eternal?” Timothy is urged to take hold of it, so it is clear that Paul is referring to something present. He is saying that the life eternal is now, and not simply somewhere over the rainbow. It is a dimension of our precious human experience, rather than a quest for immortality. Eternal life is transformed life, resurrected life – in the now. Eternal life is what we seek when we come to Church. Listening to Paul, hearing the parables of Jesus, we sense the nearness of eternity, and we wish to grasp it, to hold it close, and to live as God would have us live. Thy kingdom come, Lord; thy will be done on earth – in us – as it is in heaven.

But what about Paul’s reference to riches? What bearing does wealth have on the life eternal? Paul was a realist. He knew about the world, and he knew himself well. Money is a source of power. With it one can exercise control over certain aspects of life. It can promote pleasure, leisure, security, and personal welfare. It can also be used as leverage to manipulate, control, and rule people and property. So riches have the potential to foster self-absorption and acquisitiveness as ends in themselves. That is why Paul warns Timothy about the allure of wealth. He does not condemn wealth, branding it dangerous, but instead teaches that the love of money is the root of evil. Like Luther would later say, “Whatever thy heart clings to and relies upon is thy god.” When anything displaces God from the center of one’s life, it becomes the idol one worships.

However, the power of wealth is not restricted to self-serving ends. Paul wants Timothy to know that, because he had been commissioned to supervise the Church in Ephesus. His influence would affect and guide the community there, including those Christians who possessed wealth. Paul’s counsel not only advises Timothy to maintain his integrity as a man of God, but also to promote similar virtue among the Ephesians. He says:

As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.

 “The life that really is life.” That phrase resounds; it rings with truth today. Paul is clearly looking at the spiritual North Star, the point of God’s light that guides us toward the eternal now. For him that is the way, the truth, the life. But it is reasonable for us to want to share his view, and to ask him, “What is it that makes life real?” And if we’ll pause in our business and pay attention, Paul will tell us that he’s talking about the depth of our commitment to love God without reservation, and to love our neighbor (who is everyone) as ourself. He’s talking about being grounded in compassion, outreach, and service to others rather than spending our precious time in superficial pursuits that never finally satisfy our deepest longings. “That’s real life, that’s eternal life,” he says. “Take hold of it, and hang on for dear life. It’s risky, and people may call it foolish, but it’s God’s kind of life, the real life, the life of love.”

Frederick Buechner put it another way. He said:

 We become fully and undividedly human, I suppose, when we discover that the ultimate prudence is a kind of holy recklessness, and our passion for having finds peace in our passion for giving, and playing for keeps is itself the greatest fun. Once this has happened and our adolescence is behind us at last, the delight of the child and the sagacity of the Supreme Court Justice are largely indistinguishable.[2]

 We are all Timothy. And Paul is our mentor. May his counsel guide us this day toward the life that really is life. And may we always know who we are, and whose we are.

 In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

 _______

 A Sermon for 18th Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 20 – Year C – 22 September 2013
David H. Knight, Priest Associate

Send your Spirit, God, to open our hearts and our minds to your word, and strengthen us to live according to your will, in Jesus Name. Amen.

 “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?     -Luke 16:10-12

So we heard in this morning’s Gospel. Jesus talked a lot about money. He talked a lot about what we do with our treasure, almost more, in fact, about that than anything else. He knew well, as Bishop Alexander Stewart used to say, that the most sensitive nerve in the human body is that nerve that connects the heart to the pocketbook. In Matthew’s gospel he says, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (6:21) The fact that Jesus spoke so frequently in the gospels about money and about how we use our treasure is not because God is always trying to pick our pockets, but rather because God loves us, and God cares so much for us, and wants you and me to experience the Kingdom of Heaven to its fullest here and now while yet we are on our earthly journey.

Some years ago now, —it was actually in the last century—back in the 1980’s, I had the privilege of attending a week at the College of Preachers in Washington D.C. then housed on the campus of the Washington National Cathedral. Bishop “Bill” Stough, who had formerly served as Bishop of Alabama, and was then serving on the staff of the Episcopal Church headquarters in New York, was the leader of this week at the College of Preachers. Our time with Bishop Stough was one of the best gifts I’ve received. He was an incredible preacher and a wonderful story teller. The week began by his telling us a story I shall never forget. It was a story that illustrated another parable, also in Matthew’s gospel. “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all he had and bought it.” (13:45) As soon as he finished telling the story and the session was over I rushed to my room to write down what he had said lest I would forget. For years I had saved that story but along the way it became lost in our move back from Dallas. I couldn’t find it, yet his story was so vivid, it has remained etched in my brain. Fortunately I heard it more than 25 years ago so it’s still there in the recesses of my brain. It’s the stuff I heard last Tuesday that I often can’t remember. It’s a true story and once again, everything I tell you from this pulpit is true. Some of it actually happened.

This story he told is about a merchant who not only dealt in fine jewelry but was also a collector himself of fine pearls. For a long time, this merchant had been in search for a particularly exquisite pearl. He set his mind on finding it at all cost. One day, he was in a big city on the East Coast driving along a street lined with fine shops. At one shop, as he was driving slowly by he caught sight of a fine jewelry store. With luck there was a parking space in front. Hopeful that he might find something special inside the store he parked his car, got out and looked in the window. There on display were some very fine pieces of jewelry. There had to be more inside. He would just have to go in. He opened the door and stepped inside. Behold, there before his eyes was a display case, and in that case was a pearl the likes of which he had never seen before. It was—well—it was simply the most beautiful pearl he could ever imagine owning. In fact, it was the very one for which he had been searching for a very long time.

 As he stood there transfixed at the sight before his very eyes, a very dignified man came out from a room behind the display and said, “May I help you sir?”

 “Oh yes, ah, is that ah pearl for sale. It’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, it’s for sale.”

“Oh good! It’s so very beautiful, very beautiful. Ah, how much will it cost?”

“It will cost everything you have and it can be yours.”

“Oh yes, yes, I see,” as he took out his wallet and started to count his money.

“Oh don’t count your money, just give it to me, and, ah, any loose change in your pocket as well, Just, just give it to me.”

“Oh yes, of course!”

“And do you have any other money?”

“Oh yes, not with me but I have some money in the bank.”

“Do you have a savings account?”

“Yes, I have a savings account.”

“I’ll take that, all of it.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Do you have investments?”

“Yes, I have some investments.”

“I’ll take those investments, all of them.”

“Oh yes, of course.” (You see, he wanted that pearl more than anything else in the world.) “And now, the pearl is mine?” He was beside himself with joy at finally being able to have this pearl, but the man behind the counter asked further.

“Do you have a car?”

“Oh yes, that Dark Blue Metallic Buick parked out front is mine.”

“I’ll take that too; just, just give me the keys.”

“Oh yes, yes.”

“And do you have a house?

“Yes, I have a nice house out on the Main Line where I live with my family.”

“I’ll take your house. Is that all the real estate you own?”

“Well, ah, no, I, ah, have a summer house on the Outer Banks.”

“I’ll take that too.” Just get me those deeds to your properties. Now, you say you have a family?”

“Yes, yes, I have a wonderful wife. . .”

“I’ll take your wife. And you have children, you say?”

“Yes, ah, I have four fine children, two boys and two girls.”

I’ll take them also.”

“Ah yes, I see.”

“Is that it? Is that all you have”

“Yes, that’s all I have.”

“OK now, that’s fine. The pearl is now yours. You may have it.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you very much. You see, I have wanted this pearl for a very long time and I would give anything—anything—to have it.” He stood there holding the pearl he had just bought with everything he had. He then handed it back to the man behind the counter to safely wrap it so he could to it take with him. The man behind the counter left for a few moments and returned from the back room having carefully wrapped the pearl for safe transport. Ecstatic with his purchase the pearl merchant turned to leave the store. He opened the door to carry with him his new purchase, the pearl of great value. As he opened the door the man behind the counter spoke once again. He said, “Remember that money you gave me for the pearl you just bought?”

“Oh yes, I remember that money.”

“Well, you may have that money to use if you will use it wisely and if you will set aside a meaningful portion of it to help other people.”

“Oh thank you, thank you very much. I will do that. Thank you.”

“Remember that savings account?”

“I remember that savings account.”

“You may have use of that savings account if you will save it wisely, and perhaps, from time to time you will come upon a situation where some of your savings could make a difference in the lives of others who are in great need. And those investments—do you remember those investments?”

“Oh yes, I remember those too.”

“Well, you may use your investments if you invest them wisely as well, and if you invest them only where ethical practices are practiced, and with companies that do not take advantage of the poor and disadvantaged, and if you will designate a meaningful portion of them at some point for some worthy endeavor that will help, perhaps, to alleviate human suffering, or to help those in need, or to enrich the lives of other people. Do you understand?”

“Oh yes, I understand. Thank you, thank you very much.”

“And do you remember that Buick?”

“Oh yes, yes, it was a very nice car, I remember that Buick.”

“Well, I’m going to let you use that car. You see, but you must use it from time to time to give someone a ride who doesn’t have a car who needs a ride to the doctor, or maybe somebody who needs a ride to church, or shopping for groceries or something like that. Do you understand?”

“Oh yes, I understand, thank you. Thank you so very much.”

“Do you remember that house on the Main Line where you and your family lived?”

“Oh yes, I remember my house.”

“Well, you may continue to live in that house, but you must offer hospitality to others from time to time and not only just to your friends, but also to someone you might hear of who needs a place to stay for a while.”

“I understand.”

“And your summer house on the Outer Banks. Do you remember that house?”

“Oh yes, I remember that house.”

“Well, you can continue to use that house if, on occasion you will let someone live there who might need a place to stay, maybe somebody who has had a rough time and needs to get away for a short period of time for a retreat for a while.”

“Oh thank you, thank you so much.”

“And your wife, do you remember your wife?”

“Oh yes, I remember my lovely wife.”

“Well, you can live with your wife if you will continue to treat her with respect and honor her and do all that is within your power to be faithful only to her as long as you both shall live. Do you understand?”

“Oh yes, yes I understand. Thank you so much. Thank you so much.”

“And those four children, those two fine sons and those two fine daughters. Do you remember them?”

“Yes, yes, I remember them as well.”

“Well, the deal is that you can continue to have them to bring up if you will raise them with love and care, and if you will spend enough time apart from work with them, respecting them and as they grow being able to let them find their way without controlling them too much, and being there for them when they need you, and most of all enjoying the precious moments you have with them for they will grow up fast. Do you understand?”

“Oh yes, I really understand. Thank you so very much. Thank you. Thank you”

“But do you really understand?”

“Oh yes, I really understand.”

“Then the pearl is yours, you may have it for your very own.”

“Oh thank you so much, thank you.”

 Now the question for you and for me is, “Do you and I understand? Do you and I really understand?”

 With gratitude and humble trust we bring our best to thee to serve thy cause and share thy love with all humanity. O thou who gavest us thyself in Jesus Christ thy Son, help us to give ourselves each day until life’s work is done. Amen.

 A Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 19 – Year C – September 15, 2013

 Kim Baker Glenn, Master of Divinity, Union Presbyterian Seminary

The LORD said to Moses, “Go down at once! Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely; they have been quick to turn aside from the way that I commanded them; they have cast for themselves an image of a calf, and have worshiped it and sacrificed to it, and said, `These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!'” The LORD said to Moses, “I have seen this people, how stiff-necked they are. Now let me alone, so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them; and of you I will make a great nation.”

 But Moses implored the LORD his God, and said, “O LORD, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, `It was with evil intent that he brought them out to kill them in the mountains, and to consume them from the face of the earth’? Turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, how you swore to them by your own self, saying to them, `I will multiply your descendants like the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your descendants, and they shall inherit it forever.'” And the LORD changed his mind about the disaster that he planned to bring on his people.

                                                                                                                         -Exodus 32:7-14

_________

Shine upon us, O Lord, our one true light, that we might become aware of your beauty in creation, discern your mind and your will in the scripture before us, and sense your presence always in this place and all places. Amen.

 My husband and I joined St. Mary’s church a long time ago, twenty-two years ago in fact. We have deep roots here. My husband Charles has been a member here since he was a child. All three of our children have grown up in this church. I’ve done a considerable amount of growing up here myself. This place is enormously special to all of us Glenns.  I say all that so that you’ll know that I am not making up what I’m about to tell you.

About ten years ago, there was a small group of parishioners here who set up their own ad-hoc adult Christian Education class. (I think we call it Christian Formation now, but you know what I mean.) These were people whose work schedules kept them from attending John’s inspirational and informational Bible Study on Wednesday mornings. They were a group of laypeople with no special training in the Bible eager to get more meaning out of what they heard in church. They met each Sunday in the library between the two services. Each week they dissected and explored the lectionary readings that had been assigned for that day. They always met before they went to the 11 a.m. worship service. Since I was always preparing to teach Sunday School, I only know about the details because my husband was there. They learned a lot from doing this but their favorite part of the exercise was predicting two things: 1) which of the readings would be the focus of the sermon AND, 2) who would be preaching it.

Sometimes the lectionary readings they encountered centered on a theme, but many themes were hard to decipher. Regardless, the lectionary is a very useful tradition designed to read through the Bible in a cycle of three years. It is a linear system, really, starting generally with the Hebrew Bible or other non-canonical ancient text, followed by a selection from the Psalter, an epistle and ending with a reading from one of the four gospels. In all, each week the sources of the readings span thousands of years. We can think of it as moving across a timeline from left to right, from the beginning of time up to the second century A.D. But let us for the moment consider it another way. If we turn the device 90 degrees, instead of moving from left to right across time we can think of the readings as moving from the bottom to the to, like the way that we categorize foods in the food pyramid; we stack the basics all along the bottom then we build up to the top. Or we can think of it as moving from darkness to light, the way that darkness is full of detail and all the colors and light assumes them.     

The Hebrews themselves often talked about going up or going down quite often in their literature. Going up meant ascending toward God, going down meant descending toward the earth, toward man. Looking at it this way, we can imagine two realms of reality. We see that metaphor played out in the story of Christ’s transfiguration. Jesus and his disciples go up the mountain and the divine transfiguration takes place then they go down the mountain to do the hard work of ministry among the people. Today, we might talk about a “mountaintop experience” when we mean that our experience has been particularly sublime, even divine. All the while we recognize that it is here, at the bottom of the mountain, that we live and work and try to make sense and meaning.

The Hebrews were just trying to make sense and meaning of their new circumstances after Moses led them out of Egypt. They had been led away from the wrath and persecution of the Pharoah. When they thought they would be better off if they had stayed in Egypt, God saved them from starvation in the wilderness sending quails and manna from heaven. God brought water from a rock when they faced death from dehydration. They received God’s holy commandments and ordinances when they got to Mount Sinai and they had promised to obey them. But then Moses had left them again and gone up the mountain a second time. All the Hebrew people remained camped at the foot of the mountain waiting for Moses’ return. They waited and they waited and they waited; and each day that they waited they felt further and further removed from their experience of God. Each day they went about their daily chores – feeding their families, raising their children, caring for their parents … all the time wondering where in the world Moses could be. What could have happened to him? It had been a few weeks, maybe months, since God had done such miraculous things on their behalf and their memory of it all was fading.

While the people were growing more and more anxious, Moses was spending some important time with God. He was making good use of his sabbatical, you might say. All through scripture, but particularly in the stories of Jesus in the gospels, we find that time alone with God is important. We know from experience that having time away from routine and responsibility yields the great benefits of rest and relaxation. And as scripture tells us, time apart can yield the added benefit of clearer communication with the divine. It’s practically impossible to discern God’s will for us through the noise and clatter of everyday life. While Moses was apart from his followers he was giving all his time to God. With God he was planning and preparing to lead God’s people according to God’s commandments. This would be no easy task because, as scripture says, these people were a stiff-necked and stubborn group of people. These were people who trusted themselves more than anyone or anything else.

But God knew these people. God knew them better than they knew themselves. God knew that while they had the capacity for doing great things they also had the capacity to be distracted and led astray, especially when they got anxious and agitated as a group. We know from experience how awful it is to be anxious, but we tend to be powerless in our anxiety. Together, though, a group of anxious people can do a lot of harm. Together they are prone to lose any sense of civility; they tend to think less about what God would expect them to do and more about what they think they need to survive.

The Hebrews gave Moses up for lost. They could not bring him back but they knew they needed a god. They were convinced that their God had led them out of captivity and sustained them through tough times in the wilderness, but now their God was lost. They couldn’t see him or hear him. So they asked Moses’ brother Aaron to make a god for them.

That’s when Aaron made his biggest mistake. Maybe it was the numbers of them that convinced him. Maybe even he was beginning to doubt that Moses would ever return. Maybe even his memory of God’s actions on their behalf had faded. Maybe it wasn’t God who did those things after all. How could a golden calf hurt anyone, especially one made in memory of the true God that they had lost?

When I wrote those last words on paper, it made me shudder. Have we made a god with a lower case g ourselves in memory of our “missing” God; in our currency; in our social networking? Or maybe we’ve made a lot of little gods with lower case g’s that we have created to “stand in” for our invisible and un-touchable God. What harm could a little bit of worshiping of the dollar or our heroes do?

When God sent Moses back down the mountain to do the hard work of ministry, to straighten out the thinking of the people he had helped lead to safety, God was furious; not furious at Moses but furious that his people had such thin loyalty that they would conjure up a golden calf in his place. Really?!? A golden calf in place of God Almighty? No wonder he wanted to wipe them out and start all over. But Moses was not going to let that stand. He spoke up to God. He spoke up for his followers believing that they truly wanted to be faithful to God. Standing firm, Moses persuaded God that to destroy the very people he had just saved would disprove to the whole world the kind of God that Moses knew God to be. So persuaded by Moses’ words God changed God’s mind – choosing not to stand in judgment over Israel’s sin.

The actions that we, as human beings, interpret as God’s judgment on us are just that. They are our interpretations. What we perceive as God’s judgment is never God’s final word. Instead, God continues all day every day acting in our lives and on our behalf. God’s love for us is a relentless love. God never gives up on us becoming the people that he desires for us to be. 

There is nothing we can do to change that. Even though we may not be fully in the light of Christ, and may still be partially in the dark, we can be seen. God sees us and God knows us for who we really are. And God loves us voraciously in spite of it.

My message for you today is that God is not lost and we need not spend our energy trying to find him. The people at the foot of Mt. Sinai thought that they had “found” god by making a golden calf. They had imagined that since Moses was lost then their God was lost, too. But it was they who were truly lost and, in the end, they who became truly found. God finds us, friends and not the other way around.  May God continue to find us when we get lost on our journeys. May God grant us the wisdom to know when we are found. Amen.