October 6, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above 2 Timothy 1:1-14
Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God according to the promise of the life which is in Christ Jesus, To Timothy, my beloved child: Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. I thank God whom I serve with a clear conscience, as did my fathers, when I remember you constantly in my prayers. As I remember your tears, I long night and day to see you, that I may be filled with joy. I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and now, I am sure, dwells in you. Hence I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; for God did not give us a spirit of timidity but a spirit of power and love and self-control. Do not be ashamed then of testifying to our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel in the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not in virtue of our works but in virtue of his own purpose and through the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. For this gospel I was appointed a preacher and apostle and teacher, and therefore I suffer as I do. But I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me. Follow the pattern of the sound words which you have heard from me, in the faith and love which are in Christ Jesus; guard the truth that has been entrusted to you by the Holy Spirit who dwells within us. One of the things I love is taking road trips - this you probably know. The power of an open road, for me, can never be underestimated. It is simultaneously healing and adventurous, and I thrive behind the wheel. While I was on my way to the Special Called General Conference in February of this past year, I drove to St. Louis by way of New York and stopped by a friend’s place. I noticed that he had a couple of church cookbooks on display in his dining room hutch. I was immediately drawn to the spiral-bound books, each embossed with beautiful drawings of the church and filled with comforting recipes for families and for crowds. As I flipped through these cookbooks, I saw many names, the names of folks who continue to be well-loved by their congregations and families. Those who submitted recipes are members of the church, people who are part of the Willow Point Nursing Home, those who are in leadership as District Superintendents, and those whose recipes are reprinted in their memory. There are spouses, post office workers, and, though it shouldn’t surprise me, my friend’s mom who also serves as a pastor. In some ways, these cookbooks are a testament to the human, earthly, relational connection we have to one another and to the food in which we partake. The tables we set for our families, friends, and guests are not just places where we fill our plates and fuel our bodies; the tables we set are places of love and comfort, but can also be places of hurtful conflicts and divisiveness. To deny this would render us silent in the face of reality. And yet, I believe in the power of the table, the power of food to bring us to a place of reconciliation, even if the food grows cold before we reach a point of understanding, of humanizing the other. It may take seasons, from the cellar vegetables of winter squash soup to the fresh sauteed asparagus of early spring, through to sun-sweetened August tomatoes, but through it all, we stay at the table. On this World Communion Sunday, we celebrate the ways in which we are invited to the table, and the opportunities we have to throw open wide the doors of the church to invite all people to be in ministry with us. This morning’s scripture reminds us that we are inherently connected to one another through the family of Christ, through our adoption into God’s kin-dom. Paul and Timothy had a special relationship: in many ways, Timothy was Paul’s protege, and Timothy was well on his way to following in his mentor’s footsteps - fostering new church communities for the good of the world. The author reminds Timothy that this ministry doesn’t just appear out of a vacuum: there are generations-worth of living faith that have built the foundation of the global Church. Timothy is but one small, important piece of that story. Faith tends to move through family lines, and we see that the women in Timothy’s life have been instrumental in getting him to where he was at the time of the writing of this letter. When we have generational memory, when we remember those who have gone before us, we recognize just how connected we are - not just to our bloodlines, but to all of creation. In today’s world, we are so much more connected than we have ever been before. With the internet, and with world travel, and with news cycles and media channels galore, we are able to stay in touch with people in ways we could have never imagined. It only makes sense that when one person suffers, we all suffer. When one rejoices, we all rejoice. We are all connected, whether we are blood relatives or not. So what does it mean to have generational memory? We remember our elders, we remember those who have gone before us, those on whose knees we have sat while they read us the Bible. With deep gratitude, we recall those who taught us to pray. We bring to mind those who mentored us with thanksgiving, and we rejoice with those who pointed back to Christ through it all. But I think having generational memory could mean something different, too: In Timothy’s context, he’s just about to start a new ministry, and his mentor, Paul, is writing him with advice on how to go about it: remember the faith that you and generations before you have held onto. Use the gifts God has given you. Live into your calling. Hold onto sound teaching, and most of all, allow the Holy Spirit to work through you. Generational memory, in Timothy’s case, might be something closer to “re-generational” memory, or “generative memory.” Timothy is being asked to allow the memories of the past to be a genesis, a guide for the ministry of the present and future - it is a generative, creative calling to which Timothy is being led. Timothy has an opportunity to create something new - and so do we. When we remember, it’s not just about memory; we’re actually reconstructing a moment or a person or an idea in our mind. We literally re-member: we put things back together again. To remember is to be generative, to create, to form something out of fractured pieces. When we nurture generational memory, we recall our parents before us, and our grandparents, and all those who have loved and mentored us along the way. And within the re-membering, we build upon our own faith and instill newness into our being and our community. We have an opportunity to manifest the hopes and dreams of generations before us in a new reality that embodies prayers of ages past into physical being. What does that mean for us? How are we to live into God’s calling with this in mind? How might we use God’s gifts for the good of all? In some ways, the church cookbooks in my friend’s dining room hutch are just as precious as the hymnals we find stacked in church pews. The recipes that line these pages have been sung a few hundred times, if not more, for these are sacred stories bound together by being served at the same table, side-by-side. We are stitched together; good to one is good to all, and we stay at the table. In some ways, these cookbooks remind us of the creative Spirit that runs through us, engaging a flow of inspiration that cannot be explained. After reading through a recipe a couple of times, it can even become ingrained within us, a muscle memory that teaches us along the way. Their story becomes our own, and we stay at the table, in solidarity with one another and with the creative Spirit that brought us here in the first place. And when we cook from these recipes, the lines of ingredients and instructions, one-dimensional and silent on the page, are carefully manifest into a physical three-dimensional meal that is both nourishing and the embodiment of love. We have the opportunity to re-member the table before us, inviting all to be a part of this new physical reality, of this moment when our words match our actions. Jesus Christ was the first to become manifest from a one-dimensional being in scripture; Jesus was the Word who became flesh, here on earth, a three-dimensional Bread of Life that is both nourishing and the embodiment of love. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. (John 1:1-3) And as we re-member Jesus’ last Supper, we bring him to life once more, and our actions are manifest in the world around us; we experience resurrection through Christ, and the world itself is renewed around us. In partaking in the bread of the table and the juice of the vine, we are partaking in generational memory, re-membering and generating the love that overflows. May we seek to live into our generational memory, that the creative generative Holy Spirit would move through us all, inspiring new realities of prayers past. Amen. - Pastor Christy Wright
0 Comments
September 29, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Genesis 1 - Message Translation First this: God created the Heavens and Earth - all you see, all you don't see. Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. God's Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss. God spoke: "Light!" And light appeared. God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. God named the light Day, God named the dark Night. It was evening, it was morning - Day One. God spoke: "Sky! In the middle of the waters; separate water from water!" God made sky. God separated the water under sky from the water above sky. And there it was: God named sky the Heavens; It was evening, it was morning - Day Two. God spoke: "Separate! Water-beneath-Heaven, gather into one place; Land, appear!" And there it was. God named the land Earth. God named the pooled water Ocean. God saw that it was good. God spoke: "Earth, green up! Grow all varieties of seed-bearing plants, Every sort of fruit-bearing tree." And there it was. Earth produced green seed-bearing plants, all varieties, and fruit-bearing trees of all sorts. God saw that it was good. It was evening, it was morning - Day Three. God spoke: "Lights! Come out! Shine in Heaven's sky! Separate Day from Night. Mark seasons and days and years, Lights in Heaven's sky to give light to the Earth." And there it was. God made two big lights, the larger to take charge of Day, The smaller to be in charge of Night; and God made the stars. God placed them in the heavenly sky to light up Earth And oversee Day and Night, to separate light and dark. God saw that it was good. It was evening, it was morning - Day Four. God spoke: "Swarm, Ocean, with fish and all sea life! Birds, fly through the sky over Earth!" God created the huge whales, all the swarm of life in the waters, And every kind and species of flying birds. God saw that it was good. God blessed them: "Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Ocean! Birds, reproduce on Earth!" It was evening, it was morning - Day Five. God spoke: "Earth, generate life! Every sort and kind: cattle and reptiles and wild animals - all kinds." And there it was: wild animals of every kind, Cattle of all kinds, every sort of reptile and bug. God saw that it was good. God spoke: "Let us make human beings in our image, make them reflecting our nature So they can be responsible for the fish in the sea, the birds in the air, the cattle, And yes, Earth itself, And every animal that moves on the face of Earth." God created human beings; God created them godlike, reflecting God's nature. God created them male and female. God blessed them: "Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Earth! Take charge! Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air, for every living thing that moves on the face of the Earth." Then God said, "I've given you every sort of seed-bearing plant on Earth And every kind of fruit-bearing tree, given them to you for food. To all animals and all birds, everything that moves and breathes, I give whatever grows out of the ground for food." And there it was. God looked over everything God had made; it was so good, so very good! It was evening, it was morning - Day Six. In June this past summer, I had the opportunity to participate in Castle Hill Art Center’s Food Writer’s Symposium in Truro, Massachusetts, a tiny town on the Cape. The conference brought together artists, writers, world-renowned chefs, local farmers, and people like me: people who love food.
And though the Symposium didn’t feature any religious or theological speakers or workshops, every moment, for me, was infused with a type of spirituality that I couldn’t put my finger on. We were captivated by other people’s stories; we were engaged with new ideas and creativity; and we were in awe of the food we shared together that day. One of the things that I think we so easily forget is that we, ourselves, are intimately connected to nature, because we are nature. Andy Goldsworthy, a British earthworks artist whose specialty is in creating artwork that depicts the passage of time using natural elements, states that “nature is not something separate from us. So when we say that we have lost our connection to nature, we’ve lost our connection to ourselves.” When we spend time in nature, when we spend time with ourselves, we can begin to recognize just how good it all is. And as we reflect this morning on the creation story, I can’t help but focus on a phrase that repeatedly comes up in our scripture: God saw that it was good. The light pierced through the darkness. Sky and water, heavens and earth reflecting the clearest of blues, like dancing diamonds across the surface of the deep. The sprouts pushed through the soil, the greening of the earth had begun, lush and nourishing. Stars and galaxies, sparkling in the richest of hues, giving light and heat to all, and the sun and the moon, whose energies push and pull the tides. All forms of animal life, from the ant to the humpback whale - all created in an abundance of love and care. The earth was teeming with life, and God created humankind in God’s own Sacred image, and charged them with caring for the earth and all its inhabitants. And finally, God created a day of rest, not just for Godself, but for all of creation - a time of renewal, a time of recreation - a time of re-creation. And with all of it, and through all of it, God saw that it was good. Why does this phrase repeat over and over? What is the author trying to tell us? I believe that there is no way for God’s goodness to be separated from creation; we are all Sacred, and to borrow an idea from the tradition of native people, all of the two-legged and four-legged creatures are infused with Divinity, with a Love that makes us all so precious in God’s eyes. And we know from the book of Romans that nothing can ever separate creation from the love of God through Christ. I’d like to close with a poem from Mary Oliver entitled Mysteries, Yes. Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs How rivers and stones are forever in allegiance with gravity while we ourselves dream of rising How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken How people come, from delight or the scars of damage, to the comfort of a poem Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers Let me keep company always with those who say, “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads As we seek to live into our divine and human natures, may we recognize the divinity in every living thing, and in the stones, in the trees, in the rivers and lakes, and in the very air that surrounds us, so that we may say, “and it was, is, and will forever be good.” - Pastor Christy Wright
September 22, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick. Hark, the cry of my poor people from far and wide in the land: “Is the LORD not in Zion?” “Is her King not in her?” (“Why have they provoked me to anger with their images, with their foreign idols?”) “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.” For the hurt of my poor people, I am hurt. I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the wealth of my poor people not been restored? O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, So that I might weep day and night for the slain of my poor people. Over the past four weeks, we’ve been exploring the heritage and tradition of the Methodist movement. From an early age, I fell in love with the United Methodist Church, and it’s one of the reasons I’m bringing this sermon series to life - so that we may all understand the draw we have to the Methodist movement and the ways we can see the church changing before our very eyes. In the first week of the series, we learned about John Wesley’s understanding of the tenants of the Christian life and how they might be lived out. During our second week, we engaged with the Wesleyan theology of grace, of this ambient love that surrounds us in all facets of life. Last week, we explored the ways in which the Methodist movement has engaged with the world, particularly when it comes to our social principles and how we live out our faith. This week is our last in this series, and we will dive into the current events of the United Methodist Church, and what it means for us at George Whitefield United Methodist Church. Above all, my hope for this series is to ignite the love we have for the Methodist tradition, and remember the roots that hold us fast to Christ. But let me start at the beginning. Over the nearly two hundred and fifty years that the Methodist movement has been in existence, the Methodist movement has split over twenty times, going in many different directions. We have relatives in the Anglican tradition, our cousins are the Free Methodists, we have grandparents who are part of the United Christian Church, and our siblings are the Salvation Army. To simplify our story, I’ll highlight a couple of major changes in our denomination. From its inception in 1784, the United Methodist Church finds its roots in a denomination called the Methodist Episcopal Church, and through a series of conflicts surrounding slavery, we eventually split into two major groups, one denomination retaining the name of Methodist Episcopal Church, and the other adding the word “South” to its name in 1844. We would eventually come back together in 1939 to form the Methodist Church, but would see major change once again in 1968 when the Methodist Church merged with the Evangelical United Brethren Church, forming our current denomination, the United Methodist Church. That means that our denomination is only fifty-one years old. We may have been called a Methodist Church in the past, but George Whitefield has only been a United Methodist Church for half a century. Since 1784, the Methodist movement provided ways for members from all around the connection to get together to discern the growth of the church and new methods of ministry. Every four years, General Conferences would be called to ensure that both lay and clergy members of the Church would be able to voice their opinions and propose legislation for the life of the Church. This tradition has not changed; we continue to meet every four years, but in very special cases, we meet more frequently. In 2015, I was elected to be a delegate for the New England region of the UMC to attend and participate in the 2016 General Conference. This global gathering had many items on the table for discussion, but one that continued to come up was the inclusion of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer folks in the life of the Church. In a final stitch effort to meet the needs of the Church, the Council of Bishops called for a special conference in 2019 based solely on the topic of human sexuality. In 2016, the Council of Bishops formed the Commission on the Way Forward - a group of folks from all understandings of theology, from all regions of the world. They helped to develop three different plans, and a fourth plan was added by a caucus group within the UMC. For the 2019 special conference, there were four plans on the table for the future of the United Methodist Church. One of the plans, The Simple Plan, offered a way for the church to be fully inclusive by removing all discriminatory language from the Book of Discipline. Another course of action was the One Church Plan, which allowed churches and regions to make local decisions based on the context of their ministry needs and removed the need for church trials. The Connectional Plan was an additional option, which also allowed for local decision, but it included massive restructuring that would have essentially removed regional boundaries; churches would have instead been grouped by theological understanding. And lastly, the Traditional Plan would tighten LGBTQ restrictions and enhance punishments for those who did not follow Book of Discipline policies surrounding human sexuality. The One Church Plan, which allowed for local decision surrounding human sexuality, was highly supported both by the Commission on the Way Forward and the Council of Bishops, and there was a lot of effort in developing this plan. But when it came to a vote in February, it failed, but we knew we weren’t defeated: we still had an opportunity to submit a minority report the following day. But unfortunately, even after the presentation, we were not able to get the One Church Plan to pass, and we moved onto the other plans. All others failed but the Traditional Plan. When the final vote went through, when the Traditional Plan passed, by a thin margin of twenty-six votes of over eight hundred delegates, my heart dropped. It wasn’t just that the plan I supported had failed. Instead, I witnessed the literal tearing apart of our church. The massive arena where we were meeting was split into two, one group resisting in protest, the other singing and clapping. But most folks like me just stood in shock and watched the church we loved so much crumble around us. This wasn’t about winners or losers; this was the Body of Christ, broken so deeply and so completely, that we didn’t know what to do with our grief. My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick. Hark, the cry of my poor people from far and wide in the land: “Is the LORD not in Zion?” “Is her King not in her?” (“Why have they provoked me to anger with their images, with their foreign idols?”) “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.” For the hurt of my poor people, I am hurt. I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the wealth of my poor people not been restored? O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, So that I might weep day and night for the slain of my poor people. For days and months after the conference, I wondered if there was no balm in Gilead. I wondered if there was a Physician that could revive this Body of Christ. And then I realized that maybe, just maybe, the Body must die in order for resurrection to take place. You see, we are in the midst of Good Friday. We are on the cusp of Holy Saturday. And Easter is on the horizon. We are experiencing the death of an organization, an institution, but the Holy Spirit is still very much alive. We will rise. We just may not recognize it now. I see parallels of the church’s story in another story. It reminds me of the narrative of Mary, weeping by the tomb, utterly heartbroken and overwhelmed with grief. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How could this have gone so wrong? The angels that tended to her asked why she was crying: she had assumed that Jesus’ body had been stolen, moved, taken from her, and she didn’t even have a physical body to mourn over, to remember her beloved, to bury. But as she turned around, she saw a man she didn’t recognize, and it wasn’t until he called her by name that she realized who it was: it was Jesus. She ran toward him to embrace him, but Jesus held up his scarred hands and told her to not hold onto him, for he had not yet ascended to the Father. You see, as a denomination, we are at the tomb, weeping for those who have been caught in the crossfire, those whom we have harmed, and we weep for the institution of the United Methodist Church as it, in some ways, is dead. And yet, if we read the signs, if we see the angels in our midst, we will begin to see signs of new life, even if we don’t recognize it at first. You see, death is always followed by resurrection, even if we don’t see it. That’s the way creation was designed: life from death. Static, dead, dry seeds in the cold ground will eventually sprout new shoots, stems, leaves, flowers, and fruit. It’s only when Jesus calls us by name that we will rise, that we may finally recognize the newness in our midst. And as we run toward this new creation, we must remember that it’s not the church to which we cling, not the physical body of Christ, not the buildings or the finances or the programming, but we cling to God, who clings to us, who is closer than our very skin. Church institutions may fail, but God remains. The state of the United Methodist Church may come as a surprise to some of you; but I want to assure you that God’s got us. We’ve got God. And the Holy Spirit is already moving here in New England. In June, our region commissioned a group called the Open Spirit Task Force to study the impacts of if and/or how New England could leave the United Methodist Church to form our own denomination. As a member of this Task Force, I’m witnessing new life pouring forth, and there is hope on the horizon. Not only are we seeing renewal and revival in New England, but across the US and world. What happened in February sparked a catalyst of new ideas and greater creativity with the Holy Spirit, and I’m excited and ready to see what is to come. So what does this mean for us, here at George Whitefield UMC? Over the next few years, it’s likely that we’ll be in discernment over our identity and how we will be related to the New England region and the United Methodist Church. We can choose to be as involved or uninvolved as we’d like. We can choose to pursue full inclusion of LGBTQ folks in the life of the church, or we can choose to take a backseat until we know how the next few years will shake out. As your pastor, I will keep you updated on the continuing evolution of the Methodist movement and how it may pertain to our church. Rest assured that, though I hope and pray for the full inclusion of our LGBTQ siblings in the life of the Methodist movement, I will not push any particular solution or agenda because this is your church. As your pastor, I am here to walk with you in the decisions that you make, in the ways in which you discern the way forward. We have many possibilities before us, and it’s my hope we will see signs of new life as we embrace God’s will for us in the future of our ministry here in West Brookfield and beyond. This morning during Coffee Hour, I invite you all to join in a Listening Session: I want to hear from you, and I want us to hear from one another - how are you feeling about this? What are your hopes, your fears, your thoughts for finding a way forward? When we voice our hearts, when we share our lives with one another, when we invite the Divine into our conversations, when we hear Jesus call our name, it is then that we recognize the new life that is always already in our midst. - Pastor Christy
September 15, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Luke 15:1-10
Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them." So Jesus told them this parable: "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance." "Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.'" "Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of angels of God over one sinner who repents." For the month of September, we’ve been exploring the heritage and tradition of the Methodist movement. From an early age, I fell in love with the United Methodist Church, and it’s one of the reasons I’m bringing this sermon series to life. Over the past few weeks, we’ve learned about how John Wesley’s “heart-strangely-warmed” moment awoke in him an understanding of the tenants of the Christian life: do no harm; do good; and stay in love with God. Last week, we engaged with the Wesleyan theology of grace, of this ambient love that surrounds us in all facets of life. Today we’ll explore the ways in which the Methodist movement has engaged with the world, particularly when it comes to our social principles and how we live out our faith. And finally next week, we will dive into the current events of the United Methodist Church, and what it means for us at George Whitefield United Methodist Church. Above all, my hope for the coming weeks is to ignite the love we have for the Methodist tradition, and remember the roots that hold us fast to Christ. In this morning’s scripture reading, we’re told of a moment when Jesus was interrogated by the most religious folks in his society, and it’s certainly not the first time this has happened. The religious people question him about why he’s spending time with those people, the tax collectors and sinners - and the thing is, the company Jesus keeps is actually the company that Jesus “seeks out,” - prosdechomai in the Greek. Jesus actively goes out searching for the most un-religious folks in his society, and he invites them to dinner, he hangs out with them, he loves them as they are. One commentarian put it this way: “Jesus challenges the hearers to consider what it means to be community and what boundaries, if any, community has” (68, Feasting on the Word). And when Jesus is questioned by the religious leaders, in classic Jesus fashion, rather than answering forthright, he provides two parables instead. Jesus first tells us about a sheep that has wandered from the fold, from the community in which they were brought up, from the family who has known them and loved them, from the shepherd who has cared for them. Jesus says that the shepherd left the flock of ninety-nine to find the one who was lost, and when the one was found, there was much rejoicing, and the community was brought back together again. Jesus then tells us about a woman who lost a silver coin in her house, and so she lit a lamp, swept the house, got down on her hands and knees and examined every nook and cranny of that house until she found the coin. When she found it, she was so excited that she invited all of her friends and neighbors together to celebrate. Here’s the thing about metaphors: they’re not perfect. And knowing what we know about God’s omnipresent nature, from Psalm 139 that we read last week, we know that God will never leave us or forsake us, that God is closer than our very skin. We know that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ. Nothing. So we know that the Shepherd never leaves us, even if God seeks out the one of the ninety-nine. Jesus used the metaphor of the shepherd because he was speaking to particular people in a particular time who understood what it meant to be a shepherd, as well as the risks of leaving the ninety-nine to find one lost sheep. Most people would say, “it’s just one sheep, it’s not worth leaving the ninety-nine to find it. Maybe it will wander back.” But what we know of God, and what we know of Jesus’ ministry with the outcasts of society tells us something different. God values all people, and we are all precious in God’s sight. If even one person has left the community, either by wandering or by being ostracized, God will seek that person out to the ends of the earth and bring them back into the fold. One commentarian explains it this way: “The good news is that we are sought, and more, we have always already been found” (70, Feasting on the Word). What’s really at stake here is Jesus’ reputation. Jesus made a name in his society, but not in the best of ways. With every step, he was being watched and judged, and the company he kept, the company he sought out, caused his reputation to slide into what would eventually drive people toward his death. But more than that, Jesus’ reputation spread as the Healing One, the Freeing One, the Forgiving One, the Sustaining One, the Sacrificial One, the Resurrected One. As Christians, we must ask ourselves, “What is our reputation?” From the inception of the Methodist movement, John Wesley sought out all the tax collectors and sinners of his day. He visited the sick, advocated for those experiencing poverty, counseled those in prison. In many ways, John Wesley practiced a social gospel: where God led, there he went, regardless of his reputation and status in society. The Methodist movement had its hands in some of the most historic social gospel moments: from abolition to children’s and adult labor laws. The reputation of the early Methodist movement is bound up in being radical Christians for the sake of those whose voices have been silenced. The Social Gospel Movement of the early 1900s can be summed up in the words of the great theologian Walter Rauschenbusch: “The kingdom of God is not a matter of getting individuals to heaven, but of transforming the life on earth into the harmony of heaven.” Driven by this vision, the Methodists of the time were active in the labor movement, in women’s suffrage & rights, in the redistribution of wealth, in God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven, in seeking to create disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. This is the mission statement of the United Methodist Church, even today: To create disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. Even today, the United Methodist Church has social principles on food justice, on tobacco and alcohol use, on environmental concerns, and on human sexuality, to name just a few of the seventy-six different categories in which the UMC takes an official stance. And we live out these social principles through specific and life-changing ministries: through World Missions and UMCOR (the United Methodist Committee on Relief), through MFSA (the Methodist Federation for Social Action), through the support of the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights and the ownership of the UN Church Center, through the Imagine No Malaria Campaign, through countless drives and initiatives - the United Methodist Church has a reputation to that of Jesus. Next week, we will discuss the current events of the UM organization, including our historic 2019 Special Called General Conference session held in February of this past year. This session was focused solely on human sexuality, an issue that the UMC has been seeking discernment over since 1972, in particular, how those who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer fit into the life of the church. I attended the Conference in February as a member of the New England Delegation, and for portions of my time there, I was on the floor of the Conference, voting and working with others in our region and beyond, toward a solution, seeking a way forward. As it stands, the United Methodist Church does not allow those who identify as “self-avowed practicing homosexuals” to become pastors or to be married in our churches, and in fact, calls the “practice of homosexuality incompatible with Christian teaching.” Our conference in February further tightened these restrictions of LGBTQ siblings by requiring a mandatory penalty for clergy of one year’s suspension without pay or loss of credentials for anyone charged as being LGBTQ or anyone who officiates a same-sex wedding. Regardless of where anyone who attended the Conference stood on these issues, for many, the outcome of this Conference was heartbreaking and painful. And for many congregations and larger regions of the UMC, this issue has driven a wedge between our beloved family members. It seems like we’re at an impasse, but I can assure you, there is hope. There is movement. The Holy Spirit will not be stifled. Just as Christ seeks us out, where we are, no matter how far we’ve wandered, may Christ seek out His Church and bring us into His flock of loving care. We are all precious in God’s sight, and my hope and prayer is that we recognize just how deep and wide and long and unwavering this great Love is. The Kingdom of Heaven is like a welcome table, not only where people come to the table, but we, followers of Christ, seek out the tax collectors and sinners - we become a strange, misfit family of all saints and sinners. - Pastor Christy Wright
September 8, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18 O LORD, You have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; You discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O LORD, You know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is so high that I cannot attain it. For it was You who formed my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works; that I know very well. My frame was not hidden from You when I was being made in secret, Intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In Your book were written all the days that were formed for me, When none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are Your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them - they are more than the sand; I come to the end - I am still with You. This month, we’ll be sharing together over a sermon series on the heritage and tradition of the Methodist movement. From an early age, I fell in love with the United Methodist Church, and it’s one of the reasons I’m bringing this sermon series to life. Last week, we learned about how John Wesley’s “heart-strangely-warmed” moment awoke in him an understanding of the tenants of the Christian life: do no harm; do good; and stay in love with God. Today we’ll be discussing the theology that grew out of John Wesley’s experiences as well as his deep understanding of grace. Next week, we’ll explore the ways in which the Methodist movement has engaged with the world, particularly when it comes to our social principles and how we live out our faith. Finally, we will dive into the current events of the United Methodist Church, and what it means for us at George Whitefield United Methodist Church. Above all, my hope for the coming weeks is to ignite the love we have for the Methodist tradition, and remember the roots that hold us fast to Christ.
Last week, I spent some time with one of my best friends in Upstate New York. We went to seminary together, and we share a similar love for all things unique and unexpected. So, of course, being the adventurers that we are, we decided to jump in the car and drive over an hour into the middle of nowhere to … go spelunking! For those not familiar with the term, spelunking is cave diving, exploring caverns and underground rivers. It was something that I was always compelled by, but had never done before. And I’m so glad I did. It was a wondrous thing to behold. As we dropped 150 feet under the surface of the earth, it grew colder and more humid, and a sort of eerie feeling crept over me. As the goosebumps rose on my arms, I stepped out into the unknown and gasped. It was beautiful. There were stalagmites growing from the hard rock beneath us, and the stalactites dripped down from the cavernous ceiling. This image is of an underground lake, where my friend and I took a boat ride through its shallow waters. It was surreal. Today’s scripture reading reminds us of all the things that happen just under the surface, of how deep God’s love is for us. The Psalm tells us of God’s incredible grace, grace that is both so cosmic and unknowable and grace that is beyond personal - it is intimate in ways we’ll never understand. We are told of God’s transcendence, of forming us in the caverns of the earth, and we are told of God’s immanence, of knowing when we rise and when we lay down, of knowing the words on our lips before we ever speak them. Here’s the coolest part, as described by Ellen T. Armour in a commentary she wrote in reflection of Psalm 139: “The psalm witnesses to the fact that experiencing divine love, care, and mystery compels us to attempt the impossible - to speak to God. So we do.” (Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 4, 34) This is a wondrous thing to behold. This psalm tells us that we were formed in the depths of the earth, in the midst of all of these amazing tunnels and gorgeous rock formations. These are the places where precious stones are found, where crystals grow, where amethyst, quartz, ruby, and opal can be discovered and polished. But the psalmist also says that we are fearfully and wonderfully made; what does it mean to be fearfully made in this context? I’ll let you in on a little secret: while completely slack-jawed in awe of what I was seeing in these caves last week, I was also a little on edge. These caves are so huge, so unexplored, so unknowable, that I had a nagging worry: What happens if there’s an earthquake while we’re down here? But I didn’t allow the fear to keep me from enjoying myself while we explored what I’m now recognizing as sacred ground. The echos of our footsteps, the sounds of our voices bouncing off the damp walls, the light reflecting off the water droplets and crystals. It was, above all, sacred ground. In reflection of our scripture this morning, Jon L. Berquist states that “the reality is even more daunting; we cannot know how big God is. We have neither words nor concepts for such size. This knowledge, even though we can never attain it, is so big and so high, so weighty, that it threatens to crush us.” (Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 4, 35) And yet, God’s love is never meant to overwhelm in a destructive way; God’s love is all constructive. It is a wondrous thing to behold. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, felt a similar wonder when attempting to untangle the nature of God’s grace. One of the facets of the Methodist movement that I love so much is our understanding of grace. Wesley understood grace to be of three characters: prevenient, justifying, sanctifying. Prevenient grace is defined as the movement of the Holy Spirit before we are even aware of God’s presence in our lives. This form of grace most often can be seen after the fact: God was here, and I did not know it. We experience the second type of grace, justifying grace, when we decide to follow Christ, to emulate all Jesus’ ways, to invite God into our lives, to become disciples of Jesus Christ. And lastly, sanctifying grace is the process through which we become more like Christ, when we witness transformation in our own lives and in the lives of others. For me, prevenient grace is the most compelling nature because it is truly for all people. It is the movement of the Holy Spirit before we are conscious of it, which means that it’s not just for Christians. It’s not just experienced by those who love Jesus. It’s something that is infused into creation, and John Wesley himself understood prevenient grace to be the universal love of God for all people. Just like the caves in the ground underneath us, I believe this prevenient grace has its roots in the earth, in caverns unknown but always present in its beautiful, mysterious, and awe-inspiring ways. For me, in order to wrap my head around such a lofty concept, I like to understand prevenient grace to be something I call ambient love, love that floats over and through and within all of creation, love that is left over from the inception of creation, love that remains hanging in the air from the moment when God breathed life into Adam and made Eve from Adam’s own body. This love infuses itself into each and every moment, from when God created the animals and trees, and when God carved out the caverns and underground rivers. This ambient love is deeper than those caves and more expansive than the skies. This prevenient grace is wider than the ocean and closer than our very skin. God knows us more than we could ever know ourselves, and God goes before us and hems us in from behind. God knew us when we were woven together in the depths of the earth. It is a wondrous thing to behold. I believe that this sort of love is what John Wesley understood to be grace, grace for all people no matter their circumstances or where their life had taken them. This universal love is only possible through Christ, who was, is, and is to come, and from whom’s love we can never be separated. What a wondrous thing to behold. O Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; You discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, And are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, You know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, And lay Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is so high that I cannot attain it. For it was You who formed my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works; That I know very well. My frame was not hidden from You, When I was being made in secret, Intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In Your book were written All the days that were formed for me, When none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are Your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them - they are more than the sand; I come to the end - I am still with You. It is a wondrous thing to behold. My hope and prayer is this: May we recognize this ambient love glowing throughout all of creation. May we see love we’ve never known manifest itself in our everyday lives, and may we witness the transformation that only comes through God’s amazing grace. - Pastor Christy
September 1, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16 Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured. Let marriage be held in honor by all; and let the marriage bed be kept undefiled; for God will judge fornicators and adulterers. Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have; for God has said, "I will never leave you or forsake you." So we can say with confidence, "The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can anyone do to me?" Remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Through him, then, let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that confess his name. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing a sermon series on the heritage and tradition of the United Methodist Church. There are plenty of reasons for doing this, but I think the most profound reason for me personally, is that I fell in love with the United Methodist Church and the legacy of which we have the opportunity to be a part. In our first week of this series, we'll be exploring the history of the Methodist movement, starting with the Methodist movement’s founder, John Wesley, and his life experiences as he grew to know and love God. Next week, we'll be discussing the theology that grew out of John Wesley's understanding of the God he loved so much. Then we will move into the ways in which the church has engaged with the world, particularly when it comes to our social principles. Finally, we will dive into the current events of the United Methodist Church, and what it means for us at George Whitefield United Methodist Church. Above all, my hope for the coming weeks is to witness us igniting the love we have for the Methodist tradition, and remember the roots that hold us fast to Christ.
Throughout this sermon series, I’ll be sharing some background on why I find our Methodist heritage so compelling and why I’m drawn to our tradition. I had been raised in a Presbyterian household when I was just a small child. When my family moved up to Connecticut from Virginia, we started going to a Congregational Church. And finally, when I started Middle School, we landed at Gales Ferry United Methodist Church, where my parents still attend and are involved in various ministries. What really drew me in was not only the youth group, but also the opportunities for small group gatherings. I tend to be somewhat of an introvert, but small groups of five to ten people are where I find my best moments. Whether it’s a group gathered over dinner, or meeting together with a few friends to read scripture, these community-building opportunities warm my heart. The small-group mentality is not a new idea; it’s scriptural, as we find in the book of Acts, and John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, also recognized the significance of small group gatherings and what the community could offer. The earliest Methodist movements were organized in classes, camps, and societies - basically small groups that read the Bible together, prayed with each other, ate dinner together, and helped to raise one anothers’ children. It was really a community effort in Christian living; they had all things in common, and it was an idyllic vision of the Kingdom of God. John Wesley himself participated in many of these small groups, and it was on one fateful night when he attended a society meeting on Aldersgate Street in Britain in May 1738 when he had a life-changing experience. John Wesley had prided himself in reading the scriptures, being academically trained, and having great knowledge of God. But as the group read from Romans, John Wesley remembers in his journal that “while [the group leader] was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed,” and he recognized that it was in Christ alone where he found life. This mysterious, beautiful, awe-inspiring, and unexplainable moment felt incredibly complex to John Wesley, and even the following morning, he still awoke with questions. What happened? Why was my heart strangely warmed? But through discernment and a surrender to the mystery, John Wesley was eventually able to distill his understanding of the Christian life down to three simple rules: do no harm; do good; and stay in love with God. These rules, which solidified for John Wesley the following year in 1739, still reside within our denomination’s Book of Discipline, which is a guide for how the church might be run. This book covers everything from the United Methodist Church’s stance on gambling to how many people should be on the Staff-Parish Relations Committee. And yet, with it’s thousands of pages of legislation, ideally, the United Methodist Church should ultimately be moved by these three simple rules: Do no harm. Do good. Stay in love with God. These guiding principles are fleshed out in our scripture reading this morning: we read that we are called to do no harm, to let mutual love continue. Keep meeting in small groups, keep building community, keep caring for one another in ways that transform our relationships and the communities around us. We are reminded that marriage is a sacred bond between two people, and that our fidelity and loyalty to one another extends to our community. The scripture warns us that the love of money could lead to a discontented life, always chasing after more. Do no harm. And we are called to welcome the stranger, to do good, to not turn away from those in need. To visit those who are in prison and those who are sick, and to imitate those great faith role models in our lives. Do good. And finally, we are called to stay in love with God, to share words of praise, to rejoice in love for all, to remember that God will never forsake us or leave us, to remember and witness that we will always have everything we need. Stay in love with God. So my question is this: what warms your heart? What reminds you of Christ’s love for you? How are you being called to ministry with all people? My hope and prayer is that as we remember our Methodist tradition, may we feel our hearts strangely warmed in the light of recognizing how truly simple it is. Do no harm. Do good. And stay in love with God. - Pastor Christy Wright
August 25, 2019 - Download A Worship Bulletin Above
Jeremiah 1:4-10 (RSV) Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” Then I said, “Ah, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth.” But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a youth’; for to all to whom I send you you shall go, and whatever I command you you shall speak. Be not afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.” Then the Lord put forth his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me, “Behold, I have put my words in your mouth. See, I have set you this day over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to break down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.” This past week, I had the opportunity to get together with several sets of amazing friends: first, my friend from Florida was up visiting her family, and we got together and snacked for an afternoon; then a friend who spent the summer in Germany was back in town, and we had lunch the other day; and finally, two friends (and their dog!) visiting from Chattanooga, TN stayed with me last night. You know those friendships that transcend time and space? The ones that, though distance separates us, nothing else does? How you can pick up right where you left off? How you can have deep conversations about tacos, and how you can have deep conversations about our struggles, fears, and failures? I have a theory about these relationships: what makes them strong, what makes them withstand all sorts of situations, what makes them eternal, is that we are loved and we love so deeply that there is almost nothing we could do to sever those ties with one another. When we are generous, when we are gentle with one another, it’s in those moments that the ties tighten, and the heart grows fonder, and we know that the people we love, and the people who love us, will accept us as we are, even though they are the ones who know us best - from our finest hour to our worst characteristics. But we also know that the healthiest relationships require a sort of balancing act: while we are accepted just as we are, at the same time, the best of friends ask questions, support us when we need to make changes, and challenge us to be better, to dig deeper into our ultimate identity. Often, they’re able to see things about ourselves that we just don’t have the ability to see; they’re the ones who notice patterns or attributes that may be invisible to us. What really struck me this week was when I was confirming plans to have lunch with my friend who recently returned from Germany. We decided to eat at her house as a sort of homecoming celebration, and when I asked what I could bring, she said, “Just yourself!” This profound moment leads into our scripture reading this week from the first chapter of Jeremiah. As a young boy, Jeremiah received affirmation that God knew him - that God knew Jeremiah before he was even born. God knit Jeremiah together in the womb, and even more, God set Jeremiah apart before he even took his first breath. You see, God knows us, all of us, in this intimate way, for God is closer than our very breath, than our very skin. God is infused within us, and we, in turn, are infused with Divinity. We have all been set apart as a priesthood of all believers, meaning that we all have deep purpose in our lives. Just as God consecrated Jeremiah as a prophet to the nations, we too have been consecrated for important roles in the world around us. But Jeremiah exclaims, “But wait, God, I’m only a boy; I’m only a young kid. I don’t have the experience you’re looking for! I’m not eloquent enough; I can hardly speak well with adults, how do you expect me to speak to the nations? Why are you choosing me?” How many of us have said, “But I’m only … a nurse, not a doctor? But I’m just a teenager, not an adult? But I’m only a teacher, not a professor?” How many of us minimize ourselves and our gifts by stating that we’re only this, or just that? But God has more to say about Jeremiah’s life: God encourages Jeremiah to reject the notion of being only this and just that. God knows Jeremiah better than he knew himself, and God wouldn’t send Jeremiah without guiding him along the way. God insists that God will speak through Jeremiah, and through Jeremiah’s life, and in turn, through us, and through our lives. And God will always be with us, through it all. God bids us to come, just as we are, to the work before us, and we can rest assured that we will be given all that we need. The thing that interests me most about this piece of scripture is that it seems that there is a part that’s missing; God reassures Jeremiah that all will be well, that God will guide Jeremiah through it all, but then the narrative moves immediately into a commissioning moment, when God charges Jeremiah with his task, and blesses him, and bids him to go, do the good work, and believe in God, end of story. It’s as though Jeremiah accepted the call in one breath, then God commissions in the next, no questions asked. When it comes to the call stories I’ve heard, of my friends and colleagues going forth into ministry, there is often far more time between the call and the commissioning to do the work that is at hand. Many times, there is far more protesting to God’s call than this story in Jeremiah lets on; usually the protest turns into an argument turns into an icy silence turns into stubborn pleasantries turns into a letting down of the guard turns into a “come to Jesus moment” turns into the actual acceptance of the work and finally the commissioning of the ministry. These are all perfectly human responses, and the hesitation to accept a new role is only natural. We may feel like we’re not equipped to do the work, like we don’t have the necessary experience, like we don’t have the knowledge. But there’s a saying that has stuck with me for years: God doesn’t call the equipped. God equips the called. God doesn’t call the equipped. God equips the called. God calls us just as we are, just as we are. We are only human, but we are infused with Divinity. We are so much more than justs and onlys. When I began discerning God’s call to ministry in my life, I think it actually started far earlier than I like to admit: I was asked to be a youth representative on our youth ministry team while I was in high school; my initial reaction was, “why me? What do I have to offer?” But eventually, I accepted. And from there, though I was enjoying myself at church, I chased other passions: marine biology, and photography, and graphic design. When I went to Florida for college, I was active in campus ministries, and when my chaplain asked if I wanted to be a student ministry coordinator, my initial reaction was hesitant, and I waited quite a while to apply, until finally I put my name forward, though I was still asking, “why me? What do I have to offer?” But eventually, I accepted. I was still pursuing my degree in marine science … until I wasn’t. Halfway through my sophomore year, a friend saw some of the photographs I had been taking around the Florida landscape and asked why I wasn’t in an arts program; apparently my work was really good. And then my life shifted - I changed majors from science to art, and I began to see things in a new light. Rather than there being either/or answers, there were both/and perspectives. And as it came time to graduate, my chaplain asked if I had ever considered going to seminary. And my initial reaction was even more heels-dug-in, “Definitely not, no thank you.” Until it wasn’t, three years later. And when I was asked if I wanted to pastor a church, my initial reaction was, “Nope, that’s not me, that’s not my ministry, no thank you.” And for years, I pursued a track of ministry called deacon’s orders, which is a branch of the United Methodist Church where work in the world meets the work in the church; I was seeking non-profit work, mainly in food systems and food insecurity. But the call to local church ministry just kept coming. And I just kept denying. For me, I said, “I’m only a woman. I’m just a millennial, a young adult. What do I have to offer?” But God kept calling, and said to me, “Don’t say, ‘I am only a woman.’ Don’t say, ‘I’m just a millennial, a young adult.’ For I am calling you, and I have a place for you. I’ll give you the words to say, and I’ll show you the things you are to do. Don’t be afraid. I’m with you. I’m for you.” But I just kept denying it. Until I didn’t. And in January of 2019, I spoke with our District Superintendent, who said he might have a church for me. That church is you. And though I know that I have a lot to learn, my hope and prayer is that we will all learn that we are welcome as we are. That God has amazing plans for each of us, plans that utilize our gifts in the most inspiring of ways. That God seeks the transformation of the world, and it’s our job in partnership with God to see it through to fruition. So come, come as you are. And when God calls us and we ask, “what can I possibly offer? What could I possibly bring to the table?” May we hear God’s answer: “Just yourself!” - Pastor Christy Wright
August 18, 2019 - Download A Worship Bulletin Above
Hebrews 11:29-12:2 By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land, but when the Egyptians attempted to do so they were drowned. By faith the walls of Jericho fell after they had been encircled for seven days. By faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish with those who were disobedient, because she had received the spies in peace. And what more should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets— who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, quenched raging fire, escaped the edge of the sword, won strength out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received their dead by resurrection. Others were tortured, refusing to accept release, in order to obtain a better resurrection. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented— of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground. Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect. Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. One of the most amazing things about moving is not only getting to set up your home, and decorating, and meeting new people, but it’s the opportunity to do things you’ve never done before. Whether you’ve moved to be closer to family, or if you’ve moved for work, new things are always around the corner if you’re in a different town, state, or country. And this week, I got to do something I’ve never done before: I made a very special, very memorable, very fun visit to... drum roll please .... the RMV, the Registry of Motor Vehicles! Yay! My car has been registered in Connecticut since I got my license when I was 16, and I’ve always just renewed my license either by mail or at a AAA office. And I’ve been a student for so long that I haven’t had a permanent address. So moving to West Brookfield meant that I needed to transfer my registration and get a Massachusetts driver’s license at the RMV this week. And boy was it an adventure! First, I went to get my license at the RMV in Southbridge, which is the closest office. All went well there, but when I went to transfer my Connecticut registration to Massachusetts, I found that I didn’t have the right paperwork. So, I drove back to the house, picked up what I needed, and instead of driving back to Southbridge, I headed to the Worcester RMV because I had a meeting later on in the area. Through another long line, and another round of hurry up and wait, finally, I had everything I needed in hand. Anyone who’s been to the RMV recently knows that it can be an experience. If signatures are not exactly right, or if forms are filled out wrong, it can be a daunting and tedious task. But in the end, everything always tends to work out, even if you have to compromise by going home to get the correct documentation, or if you have to pay a fee to change an item on a form. And the best part about getting everything settled for me personally? I finally feel like I’m able to put down roots; I’ve been on the move for so long that there’s something comforting about seeing my name next to my current address on my license. It’s like I’ve finally found my home. This morning, we talked about all of the amazing things that our ancestors did before us, through faith. We find a litany of accomplishments in Hebrews, from the parting of the Red Sea to shutting the mouths of lions. But we also find some difficult times - from persecuted, to jailed, to even killed for the faith they held so dear. The stories of these believers are difficult to swallow, and the reality is that sometimes, it’s really tough to be a Christian. Throughout the timeline of faith, we’ve been witness to those who have gone before us. They have laid the foundation of the Church, they’ve written letters, they’ve preached sermons, they’ve built congregations just like ours. And they’ve also held us when we were sick, fed us when we were hungry, and prayed for us when we needed it most. They are our parents, our teachers, our mentors, and our friends. These make up our great cloud of witnesses, the folks that are always cheering us on as we run this race, as we pioneer with Jesus into territories unknown, as we break down barriers and seek to bring about the Kingdom of Heaven. So when the going gets tough, we can have faith that we do not walk this road alone. We walk it in the company of angels, those who have gone before. And most of all, we walk it with Jesus, the perfecter and pioneer of our faith. And as we grow deeper in our relationship with Christ, we learn what it means to have pioneering faith, faith that goes into the wild. It may be a place we’ve never been before, and our faith takes us on a journey as we pioneer with Jesus along the way. This passage in Hebrews not only talks about the ways in which Jesus is the pioneer of our faith, but also the ways in which believers respond in their own human pioneering ways: wearing animal skin, wandering through deserts and mountains, living in caves and seeking shelter where they could find it. But through it all, God had something better planned, a deeper reality that would manifest through generations to come. So what does it mean to have pioneering faith? What does it look like? Jesus tells us, "Be not afraid," but, let's be honest: that's a tall order. Sometimes I think we're called to action in spite of our fear so we can have the opportunity to recognize the Divine in our midst. When we're out wandering the plains in territories unknown, unsure of where and how God is calling us, it's in the moments of silence, when the wind rustles the tall prairie grass, when we look up to the shower of stars above us...it's in these moments when we know we're not alone, when our pioneering faith brings us to new ground, when we put one foot in front of another and find ourselves at an oasis with nourishing water and sustenance. It seems like some of the most beautiful places in the world are also some of the most remote, and while the paths we tread may be deserted, we do not walk alone. Christ is with us, and we take with us all who have gone before. Through it all, our pioneering faith deepens our relationship with God. This reminds me of another piece of scripture in the first chapter of Philippians: “In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” When we step out of our comfort zone, when we take a leap of faith, we are continuing on our journey, even if we do not know where our feet may land. We take calculated risks, we blaze our own trails, and we pioneer our faith in partnership with Jesus, who holds the compass and guides the way. He who began a good in you will carry it on to completion. So while my adventure this week didn’t involve parting the Red Sea, or shutting the mouths of lions, it was still new territory for me, and it was exciting, if not a little nerve-racking, to pioneer a new personal path toward getting everything in order. And with it, I have the assurance that in the midst of my wandering, of moving from place to place, from job to job, from one rhythm of life to another, I have begun to put down roots, to build relationships, and to walk this path with the assurance of Christ before me and the company of witnesses surrounding me. And my prayer is this: May we, as a community, recognize the ways in which we're surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses. May we have the assurance of Jesus' presence as he perfects and pioneers our faith, leading us where we've never been before. And may this pioneering faith bring us to an oasis of life, with sustaining water that sings of resurrection in spite of it all. - Pastor Christy Wright When I first began attending Simple Church in early spring of 2015, creating bread quickly became a spiritual practice for me. The act of mixing a few simple ingredients together, kneading the dense mass, allowing it to rest, shaping the loaves, resting once more, and finally sending it to the oven became the rhythm of Sabbath. Though the process of bread making might seem complicated, it embodies the beautiful realization of creating order out of chaos. Flour will become airborne, and our hands will always be coated in a dried white crust, but the deeply rich brown tones of the finished loaf and the warm aroma speak to a deeper reality of the rhythm of work, rest, and play.
I’ve been reading Abraham Joshua Heschel’s The Sabbath recently, and it speaks volumes to this form of Sabbath practice. Though Heschel would argue that bread making requires more labor than rest, it’s in the rhythmic pattern of time where the Divine bids us to simply be present to the process. For Heschel, it’s not enough to rest in our spiritual lives. Rather, he states that “the soul cannot celebrate alone, so the body must be invited to partake in the rejoicing of the Sabbath.” In the midst making bread, I’m able to focus solely on the act, fully caring for the ingredients and the people who will partake in the loaf. In the time it takes for the dough to rise, we wait patiently, for we know that in the waiting we will find wholeness. When we are fully present to our work, Sabbath becomes that much more meaningful. Heschel says it like this: “Labor is a craft, but perfect rest is an art. It is the result of an accord of body, mind, and imagination.” When I spend my time making bread, whether for the church or at home, I am able to embody a sense of presence that is different from other practices. You can’t rush the bread making process; time is the only thing that will move us from separate isolated ingredients to one cohesive loaf. And in the act of breaking this bread together, we encounter time that stands still, a snapshot of the labor of love manifest through chaos, ordering, and time. This reminds me of a beautiful hymn called Christus Paradox, in which a key line proclaims Christ as that which remains present, standing outside of time and yet being so intimately close: You, the everlasting instant…Worthy is our earthly Jesus! Worthy is our cosmic Christ! As I reflect on the art and practice of bread making, I recall meeting with my friends before the sun rose to greet the dough that had been mixed overnight and allowed to rest in natural fermentation. We would weigh out each loaf, gently shaping the dough into individual rounds, allowing them to relax before pulling them into their final form. We sat on the kitchen floor while each pillow of dough slowly rose, our quiet conversation ebbing and flowing in the rhythm of our thoughts, silence falling from time to time, breathing in each moment. Bread making, particularly with other people, has become one of the most beautiful and most powerful forms of Sabbath that I’ve ever experienced, for it is in this form of rest that we rise. — Pastor Christy |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
December 2019
Categories |