November 17th, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Isaiah 65:17-19, 23-25
For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create; for behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and be glad in my people; no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress. They shall not labor in vain or bear children for calamity; for they shall be the offspring of the blessed of the LORD, and their children with them. Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and dust shall be the serpent's food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain. When I first started seminary, I didn’t realize just how much of a risk I was taking - I would be moving into a brand new town, taking on even more student loans, and stepping into the unknown. As an introvert, the whole thing was very overwhelming as I attended classes with people I had never met. These were folks from all over the country and world who had incredibly different and diverse backgrounds from myself. They were people who were younger - one of my friends was only 19 when she started graduate school with us - and others were on second and third professional careers, having received their call to ministry later in life. Some of my classmates were parents, some were grandparents, some were divorced, and others were newly married. Others had spoken English, and only English, for their entire lives, while others were multilingual, speaking in their native tongue among a handful of other languages. Among my classmates, there were some that emerged to be my closest and best friends. You see, seminary is not an easy feat. It’s unlike any other graduate school experience; you’re confronted with your deepest doubts, fears, and insecurities at every step of the way because seminary asks you to explore the Bible and the Church in ways we’ve never done before. And often times, my classmates and I would debrief after a particularly difficult class by grabbing a beer at the pub right across the street, going dancing, cooking for one another. The strangers that I met in those classrooms would become my biggest advocates, and they’d know that I’d have their back no matter what. Once we graduated seminary, many of us went our separate ways and risked everything to start a new life, called to ministry in different parts of the country and world: a good friend enlisted as a Navy Chaplain and is currently serving in Japan. Another is in California, having finished up her stint as a hospital chaplain and who is now exploring food ministry with her local church. One is in Arkansas working with college students in spiritual guidance as they discern their vocational callings in ministry. Another is in Tennessee writing a book on working through conflict toward healthy relationships. And still another is in New York pastoring two churches of his own. For three or four short years, all of us came together at school and made soul connections with one another, only to be called out in various places in the world to serve God in our own ways. And yet, when we see each other, when we’re all in the same place, this is a vision of heaven - old friends being reunited, making our favorite meals, catching up on each other’s lives. Strangers in a new town becoming friends in the classroom becoming soul siblings at a distance, longing of being reunited. This is a vision of heaven. This morning’s scripture reading comes to us from Isaiah during a time of dreaming, of envisioning a new heaven and a new earth. This gorgeous description of peace among all of creation, of no more weeping, of being blessed with children does not come without risk. Toward the end of the passage, we hear of the wolf and the lamb eating together, at the same time - and there is peace, even though this could be a potentially volatile situation. We have a vision of heaven set before us in the scripture, and some of us may have experienced glimpses of heaven here on earth. Maybe it’s those times when we’re with our spouse watching the sunrise. Maybe it’s those times when our family gets together for Thanksgiving, and all we can do is just sit back in gratitude and witness all that God has given us. Maybe it’s the birth of our child. We see glimpses of heaven all around us. But here’s the reality: in each of those cases, we’ve had to risk something in order to see heaven on earth. We’ve had to risk a broken heart in our romantic relationships, we’ve had to risk the possibility of family disfunction, we’ve had to risk our own wellbeing for the good of someone else. Sometimes we have to break all the rules of conventional wisdom, sometimes we have to risk it all to witness heaven pouring forth. Sometimes the wolves dine with the lambs, and it’s a risk. But it’s a beautiful vision. We’re told that Jesus risked it all, even to the point of death because he, too, had a vision of heaven. He sought to overturn all injustice, poverty, sickness, and pain - and he died as a witness to the system of oppression and the vision of heaven that would come. He risked it all, and his resurrection brought new life. As the Body of Christ, we are called to continue on Jesus’ path of “bringing good news to the poor, of proclaiming release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, of letting the oppressed go free.” (Isaiah 61). But to do so requires risk. Here at George Whitefield, we already do so much that brings forth a vision of heaven in our community and beyond: our prayer squares have made a difference locally and across the country and world; our Operation Christmas Child gifts brighten children’s lives; our donations to the Sharing Cupboard make life a little easier for folks who need a little extra help. We are here to celebrate the love we have shared already and to discern the ways in which God is continuing to call us to mission and ministry, toward a vision of heaven where all belong. But often times, it can be difficult to know if what we give truly makes a difference. One commentary puts it this way: “Much of our hardest work may have little visible impact or may seem to end in utter failure. … [But] Christ’s ministry requires our willingness to risk failure.” (Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, 88-89) This has never been more true, for me, than in youth ministry; in previous churches where I’ve worked, one day the kids won’t be listening or would be goofing off, and I have to wonder if it’s even worth the time; and in the next moment they’d offer a profoundly bracing insight on faith that seemed to come out of nowhere. The reality is that we have limited human vision, but God sees what’s going on under the surface, and we may never know the impact of the seeds we plant and which ones will grow. Using God’s vision instead of our own will help us to witness the possibilities of heaven on earth here at George Whitefield and beyond. And we use Jesus’ ministry as an example for that life, and for the ways in which we can engage with our community. One commentary states that “Jesus’ radical inclusivity, his model of proclaiming power through nonviolent action, and his ministry of presence reveal an unexpected model. ... Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection provide a new set of lenses for the world to engage in the new creation, not as a goal to be looked for off in the distance, but one to be realized here and now.” (Feasting on the Word, 290) You see, when we pray the Lord’s prayer, we’re literally asking for Heaven to pour forth: Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. We can’t just gloss over that phrase without taking it seriously, because, to quote a wonderful scholar, “the church’s job is not to cloister itself proclaiming the resurrection just in the everlasting. The proclamation is for the resurrection of life in this world as well.” (ibid, 292) And we can’t just cloister that blessing for ourselves within the church. The blessing is fully communal, for all of creation - it is not merely individual, but concerns everyone and everything. One of my favorite professors at Boston University says that shalom, that wonderful Jewish understanding of peace, is incomplete without justice. Peace and justice go hand-in-hand, and along with justice, comes risk. (Dr. Bryan Stone) So what is your vision of Heaven? How can George Whitefield United Methodist Church participate in the world that is to come by bringing it forth today? What can we risk for the sake of the Kingdom? What are your hopes and visions for our church and beyond? During the final hymn, I invite you to come forward as you feel called and clip your response to the clothesline along the altar rail. There are extra cards up front for you to fill out if you didn’t receive a card and would like to participate. And as we discern the future for our church, may we recognize the ways in which God has blessed us with glimpses of heaven. May we be reminded of the risks that are necessary for such blessings, and may we remember the Christ that risked it all for the sake of all, so that all may have a taste of the new heaven and the new earth. - Pastor Christy Wright
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