The Fruited Plain

Last Sunday I preached at two small churches out on the plains. When I got the email asking if I was available I jumped at the opportunity. In Toledo I had plenty of Lutheran and United Methodist offers for supply work (when you fill in for a pastor on a Sunday). Since we moved here, I've only preached at my husband's church (which was wonderful). I told my husband, “I've never been so excited to drive an hour to preach to 20 people.”

It surprised me how excited I was, I guess you don't always realize how much you miss something until it is back. I went from preaching every Sunday to once per month to twice in six months. Honestly, I'm on the fence about whether or not supply work is for me. I get anxious about arrangements for the kids since their dad is also working. If it is not a United Methodist service I get nervous about keeping the liturgy straight. I hate the feeling of skipping something or saying the wrong thing. It also feels a little weird to leave the church with my robe folded over my arm, a check in my hand and no relationship with any of the people. But I love preaching, I love meeting new people, I love leading worship and I see this as a unique opportunity to experience and learn from the ways in which other churches operate. Every time I preach I feel renewed, a bit more like myself again and grateful to the pastor that invited me and the people who opened their ears and hearts to me.

So off I went. The kids were dressed, fed and given backpacks filled with more than they could possibly need for the morning. A wonderful babysitter would pick them up after the early service at their church and they would come home to full lunchboxes neatly arranged on the kitchen counter.

I was really looking forward to the drive and thankful that it was east and not west. East is flat, west is mountains and I'm still a little nervous driving the curvy mountain roads out here. I try not to look out the side window when we go on these roads with very little margin between pavement and huge rocky drop off. I am baffled as to why these mountainous roads lack guardrails, but comforted by the fact that since we moved here I have never heard of a car randomly plummeting off a mountain highway.

The flat terrain felt familiar. It reminded me a bit of my old daily commute to Woodville, except this place does open spaces like nowhere I have ever lived. As far as the eye can see is very far. The sun was bright and green surrounded me on all sides. The empty road was bordered by yellow and purple wild flowers. As I left the city there were hot air balloons and parachutes on the horizon to the south. It was refreshing and an opportunity to be reflective. Just the fact that I was alone felt exciting and energizing. As a stay at home mom with no extended family even remotely nearby I am always with my kids. It's my choice, I love being with my family and I see it as a gift and a limited opportunity to spend so much time with them, but sometimes a break feels really good.

I drove toward the great big windmills and then soon was behind them. The speed limit dropped and there it was- a little white church with a nicely mowed lawn. I got out and sat on the front steps. I somehow always seem to be early. A lovely couple arrived and we spent the time before worship talking about their church, their children, their grandchildren and the journey that brought them to this town, population 400. The people began to come in. Fifteen including me, six of them children. And of course, because that's how life seems to be, there was a fellow Penguin there (graduate of my Alma Mater, Youngstown State University). Before I began, a kind man said, “don't be nervous, just have a good time.” I started to say, “oh I'm not nervous” but instead just said, “thank you, I'm looking forward to it.”

One of my favorite parts of the service was the part when the congregation got to select the hymn. All of the children immediately threw their hands in the air, “number 261!” they happily shouted. We sang 261, “Lord of the Dance” and the children got up from their seats next to their grandparents, went into the aisles and danced as they sang the memorized verses.

As I do for 600 or 6, I wore my vestments and preached my heart out. I left feeling as though I had worshiped. I felt cared for and grateful for a lovely morning. I got in my car and headed to the second church. It was a lovely building with an addition built in 1967. I wondered about their story. It's age showed, weeds and winds seemed to move more quickly than the small congregation could manage. I took a seat on the steps, under the bird's nest in the light fixture and breathed in the fresh country air. Across the street was a massive car junk yard and there wasn't much else by way of neighbors. The people were kind and rejoiced over each person who arrived. They usually get five for worship and that Sunday, counting me and the three month old, there were nine. There was a sound system and an organist. The candles were lit, announcements made and we prayed our way through the liturgy. During “Joys and Concerns” we found ourselves in a conversation about how annoying built up earwax can be and what a relief it is to have it removed, and we thanked God for that. I preached my heart out as I looked for eyes to make contact with. When the service ended we all found ourselves in the back of the church as everyone had some role to play in making the church function. This was not a place where one would come and slip out. Everyone was known and everyone worked to keep their church going. I drove away feeling uncertain about their future but in admiration of their stamina.

I made a right turn out of the parking lot and there was my purple mountain's majesty above the fruited plain. Pike's Peak lead the way home. I put down the windows, turned up Band of Horses and took in my last moments of alone time and flat ground. I felt renewed and grateful. Grateful for the opportunity, grateful for the people, grateful for the Holy Spirit showing up. I also felt grateful for the way my heart felt toward my denomination. I felt remorseful for the bad thoughts I had as I watched my denomination argue at the General Conference. I felt connected again, in a way that only happens when you worship together. This year was the first year since I can remember that I did not attend East Ohio Annual Conference (I'm counting the years I went to Youth Annual Conference as a teen and as a youth leader). There were four years when I served in West Ohio that I actually went to two annual conferences. So I felt strangely disconnected and these two little churches brought me home again. I suppose you can say they helped me realize that my heart is indeed still strangely warmed.

Sermon  from Ellicot and Simla UMCs 8/14/16 Luke 12: 49-56

     Remember when it was Christmas? Remember the warmth of the fire and the sparkle of the Christmas lights? The cozy sweaters looking upon fresh white snow? The church decorated with poinsettias as we read about the birth of the one called Prince of Peace? That memorable story of a baby born in a manger, with a promise of hope and love? In Luke's telling of the birth of Christ you may remember the angel and “a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.” And so at Christmas we have ornaments and wreaths that say “Peace” in gold sparkly letters, we pray for peace in the world and we hope that the telling of the birth of Christ will spark peace in the hearts of all who hear it, in the ears of those who are hurting and in the world so sharply divided.

      So, what's up with the passage read today? Perhaps you, like me, find it troubling. I can get on board with the lovely warm messages of peace. I even have my own sparkly, decorative sign that says “Peace” that I put up every Christmas. Every night I pray for peace on earth. So I have a hard time with the part when Jesus says, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” Wait a minute while I go hide my sparkly “Peace” decoration …

     I don't think Jesus really cares about sparkly decorations in this passage, in fact I think he is mad. In his commentary on this passage, Luke Timothy Johnson points out that the Greek words used in this passage are meant to convey strong emotions … if you couldn't already tell by Jesus saying he wants to bring fire to earth. And so Jesus delivers this strong, emotional, angry message. He talks about division, about families being split against each other. And it is hard to hear, it is troubling, it is hard to reconcile with the strong messages of peace and love we hear in other passages, like the birth story.

     Of course there are some who will feel perfectly comfortable with talk of division. Some who might see this as a justification for their anger and hatred toward others. Perhaps there are angry teens out there thinking “see, it's ok for me to hate my mom because she won't let me stay out late.” Or disgruntled church members thinking “see, Jesus says it's ok for us to scream at each other over whether or not we should change the wallpaper in the parlor.” But more seriously, relationships can be a struggle, they take compromise, work and effort so any passage that seems to encourage throwing in the towel, saying a few choice words and storming off may be appealing.

      I actually hate division. I hate it when I'm not getting along with someone or don't feel connected to someone. When I was pastoring churches conflict and upset feelings made my stomach hurt. When people threatened to leave the community it was terribly upsetting. I feel anxious when people are arguing or things become heated. My heart pounds louder when someone is saying things that I strongly disagree with or when I am saying things I know someone else strongly disagrees with … it is uncomfortable.

     I don't need to tell you that right now we are in a season of sharp divisions. We are in the middle of an election season and politicians are counting on division. They are hoping for your strong feelings for them and against the other. On any given day it does not take long to find someone saying or typing reasons why we are in for sure and certain doom and destruction if the other candidate wins. We are divided over candidates, divided over issues, color coated based on our side and easily angered at anyone on the other side of the line. Surely this wasn't what Jesus had in mind … was it?

     Our own church is also divided. Last week I attended a talk at First United Methodist from the pastor there who was the head of the delegation to Jurisdictional Conference. As you may know the new bishop of the Rocky Mountain Annual Conference is the first openly partnered lesbian to be elected as bishop in The United Methodist Church. I watched as Pastor Kent addressed the crowd, some of whom were very much against the election. He explained how the election came about, his perspective, what might happen next and then talked about how he was having trouble sleeping. Because he knew that people would feel hurt and angry and he knew that some would leave his church. He knew that there is a fracture in The United Methodist Church and talks of a split. And that hurts. It is scary. It is hard. It wasn't exactly the kind of church meetings I remember as a kid, where the biggest question was which pie to eat first and what color the new choir robes would be. But here we are … divided. Surely this isn't what Jesus had in mind … is it?

      It's hard to understand. Just when we think we have Jesus figured out or some sort of hold on what the Bible is all about, we get a curve ball that makes us look critically at ourselves. A curve ball like Jesus getting angry and preaching about division.

     Maybe there is a way to somehow hold together this impassioned message about division and the Biblical message of love and reconciliation. Maybe there is a way to wrap our minds around the Prince of Peace saying he did not come to bring peace on earth.

      Jesus calls us to give of our hearts. To give of our whole selves to God and love the Lord our God with all our heart and all our mind and all our soul. Jesus calls on us to feel, to feel passion for God, to love our neighbors and care deeply for the marginalized, the widowed and orphaned, to seek justice. When you do that, when you put your heart into something, all of your heart, you are going to have passion, you are going to care, to feel and maybe even get angry.

     And sometimes that might cause division. But not the kind of divisions that we so often see in our world, violent divisions or self-righteous divisions or division caused by a lack of desire to work to be in genuine relationship. But rather the kind of division that comes from a heart bent on love, bent on Christ and bent on peace.

      In the passage before this one Jesus is talking about people who are ready and people who are not. People who are living their lives for God and people who are living their lives for comfort. There is a difference, a division of you will …

      Right now in my life I spend most of my time with two little people. I have two boys, a 2 year old and a four year old. I am taking time off from serving churches to stay at home with them and so my view of the world these days is often through that filter. I look to my experiences day to day to make sense of the world. And so as I was reflecting on this passionate speech from Jesus I found myself reflecting on the last time I gave a passionate speech. It was not a brave speech delivered on the front lines of justice, a rousing sermon preached to a captive audience that opened hearts and changed lives, but rather it was a lecture to my kids. And yes, I was angry and definitely yelled. It was the day after we returned home from vacation, last Monday actually and I was sorting through stacks of laundry and suitcases that needed unpacked while doing the normal things like making their meals and getting them dressed and making sure no one peed their pants. Every time I said anything to them like “brush your teeth” or “tv time is done” or “let's go to the store” it was met with whining. Even when I joined in a fun game with them it always ended in a temper tantrum from the one that did not win. Finally, when I asked my four year old to put his shoes on for the 5^th time and the two year old was on the floor protesting a trip to the store I got angry. I raised my voice, pointed my finger and did my best to infuse toddler logic into an explanation of why mommy was upset, why their behaviors were unacceptable and what the consequences would be if they continued. I got upset because I was annoyed and my patience had run out and because I needed to go to the store. But there was another reason too. I want my boys to live their lives in a certain way. I want them to be respectful and kind. I want them to be humble and compassionate. I want them to turn their hearts to God in a world with so many other options. So I guess you can say I want them to be different, divided from others in the world. I want them to have a passion for justice and love that gives them the courage to speak up when something is wrong, to go against bad behaviors and be willing to risk for the sake of Jesus Christ. I want them to live their lives for more than comfort and desire. And sometimes that might set them apart.

      So I guess division isn't always a bad thing. It seems that when our hearts are involved, there are times when we need to be set apart.

      Could this be what Jesus had in mind? People willing to give of their hearts to God? People bravely living against the grain, seeking what is right in a world full of other options? I don't know, but I would say that is something worth getting passionate about.