I think that one of my favorite things so far about working at the church has been learning what I never paid attention to at Rejoice. Sure, I know how to make bulletins, lead in worship, teach Sunday school, etc., etc...yet, as far as I know, I never attended a council meeting, nor do I have any clue how a church creates and enacts a constitution. These activities have been extremely interesting for me because I've learned a lot more about the inner workings of the church.
Last night, I got to attend a meeting of the governance team, which is working to rewrite St. Mark's constitution. The one that they have just doesn't fit who the people of the church are at this point in time, so they're working to make it a better match. I'm not going to lie, I was expecting to be bored to tears, but I really enjoyed my time last night. I learned a little more about how a church functions, and it was quite interesting. I was also happy to know that I understand enough to have some input for the team, rather than just stare blankly into space.
One of the most striking points we discussed was how challenging it is to find the right role for the church council. The goal of the council definitely isn't supposed to be management. The people who serve on council should be overseeing the church's functions as a whole, not micromanaging every little issue that comes up each week. Yet there is a wide range of possibilities within that framework. How many people should be on the council? How long should their terms be? Should they be elected and then receive tasks, or be elected to a specific position? What should the teams look like? How is this going to move the mission of the church forward? I'm sure that we addressed this issue and many more when we organized Rejoice, but I was only 11 or 12 at the time and don't remember much of this discussion.
The other critical issue that came up during the meeting is one I've been wrestling with for quite awhile: what, exactly, is the role of the pastor in the church? We quickly eliminated the notion that every task, idea, problem, etc. that happens in the church must first be funneled through the pastor. I'm totally behind the idea that the pastor is not the center of church life. If that were the case, churches would crumble every time a pastor got a new call or left for any other reason. And we see this happening all the time. I always thought it was a testament to how awesome Dad is that people would leave the church when we moved. Of course, it was a compliment to him in some ways, but it was also an indication of people not understanding the role of the pastor in the church.
I'm not saying that I have every detail of this figured out myself--I definitely don't. I do know that my call is not to be a micromanager. If I felt the call to manage something, I definitely wouldn't be in seminary right now. I could have done that at Starbucks, and earned some money along the way...But what exactly is the call of the pastor? I already know some of that, I'm working some of it out now, and I know questions and issues will come up later on, as well. But I appreciated hearing not just Linda, but the whole team agree that the pastor is NOT the church...now to figure out what the pastor IS.
16.1.12
What's in a Name?
This week, things were “back to normal,” so to speak. I didn’t have any great spiritual revelations, there were no special events during the services, and I wasn’t in charge of anything. But I’ve recognized something about myself recently, and I’m really trying to address it. I have a fair amount of difficulty learning people’s names, and I get very nervous about making mistakes. For this reason, I have recognized that I rarely address people by their names.
Perhaps some of this hesitancy comes from silly mistakes I have made with names throughout the years. I have, unfortunately, inherited my mother’s and my grandmother’s tendency to mix up the names of even people I know. I don’t know how many times my mom called me Josiah over the years. When Josiah came to visit this Christmas, I mixed his name up with Wes’ at least once a day. In college, I confidently introduced my new friend “Alexander” to my roommate, only to have “Alexander” inform me that his name was, in fact, Jonathan. Luckily for me, this did not hinder our friendship!
Therefore, I have a hard time going up to someone and saying, “Good morning, ____!” I generally go with “Good morning!” I don’t think my lack of naming people hinders my sincerity or make them think I am cold, but it definitely makes a difference. I have been to many places where the pastor, as he/she was giving me Communion, says, “Jessica, this is Christ’s body, broken for you.” What a joy it is to be named! How wonderful to share the peace and hear “The peace be with you, Jessica.” Jesus’ sacrifice, that peace is for me. Not just from the person speaking, but from God!
In light of this reflection, how can I not use people’s names? I love being named. I love knowing that someone cares about me as myself, as God’s child, baptized and named. Yet I still have this fear that I’ll make a mistake. And if I make a mistake in naming someone, what will that do to our relationship? Having gone through most of my life with the last name Matlack, a brother named Josiah, and a mom named “Karen” spelled Karin, I know the pain of being misnamed. What if I add to someone’s pain?
I’m not sure how to resolve this problem yet. I know that I need to start using people’s names. Simply using the names I know when passing the peace, talking during the fellowship time, and meeting throughout the week will remind me of those very names. Perhaps as I practice and make mistakes, I’ll learn more names, learn people’s stories, and learn how to better learn new names and faces. I genuinely care about these people, as I’m sure I’ll care about my future congregations. How do I get that across while allowing myself to make mistakes? Sometimes it’s good to go with Luther and “Sin boldly.”
9.1.12
Indescribable
Usually, I try to reflect on what I've done during the week in this blog. And this week was actually a rather busy one in terms of how I participated: baptism, affirmation of baptism for the congregation, teaching Sunday school and Confirmation, etc. But the most powerful moment of the whole week was during the sermon in the second service. No, it's not because I wasn't paying attention the first time, I promise.
Yesterday we celebrated the Baptism of our Lord. As it sounds, it's a day to commemorate Jesus' baptism. As part of the service, we also did a corporate affirmation of baptism. This includes renouncing the devil, the evil powers of the world, etc., and affirming our faith by saying the Apostle's Creed. This part of the service is something Linda has been doing each year since she arrived at St. Mark, and it was an interesting and powerful way to commemorate the day.
Prior to remembering and affirming our own baptism was Linda's sermon. During the first service, I had been interested in the sermon and what Linda was saying, as it was not so loosely related to my own sermon last week. The point of the sermon was that, as God called Jesus "my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased," through baptism God accepts and claims us as God's own children. The idea of being adopted by God has been really important to my personal theology recently, especially as Wes and I discuss adoption. This whole personal attachment to the amazing idea of being adopted by God started when my wonderful mother suggested I watch the music video for Third Day's song "Children of God." Go on, take a break to watch it.
So there I sat, thinking about and listening to Linda's sermon, my personal ideas about adoption by God, etc. etc. And (for the second time), Linda ended the sermon by asking us all to make the sign of the cross on our neighbor's head, while saying something along the lines of, "You are God's child, the beloved." Since Linda and I are neighbors during the service, we did this for one another. It was definitely a powerful experience to hear those words, recognizing that, as Linda said, God is a "well-pleased parent. Period."
After the sermon, we always have a minute or so to reflect on the sermon before we go into the hymn of the day. I spent that whole time practically in tears, amazed at the power of being accepted as "beloved" by God. I don't know why it hit me harder during the second service. I don't know why that reflection led me to being able to say "yes, God" anew. But during that time after the sermon, and throughout the hymn of the day, I was saying a silent prayer of thanks, praise, and release. I know that, over the next days and months, that feeling of "let go and let God" will diminish, and I'll have to remember the time when I, once again, freely gave my life and its path over to God. I know that there will be times when life won't go the way I have it planned. I will wonder what God thinks God is doing with my life. But hopefully I'll remember yesterday, and the overwhelming feeling of peace involved in handing over the reins to the one who knows what is best, the one who willingly adopted me in my broken, unworthy state, the one who loves and guides me through it all.
Yesterday we celebrated the Baptism of our Lord. As it sounds, it's a day to commemorate Jesus' baptism. As part of the service, we also did a corporate affirmation of baptism. This includes renouncing the devil, the evil powers of the world, etc., and affirming our faith by saying the Apostle's Creed. This part of the service is something Linda has been doing each year since she arrived at St. Mark, and it was an interesting and powerful way to commemorate the day.
Prior to remembering and affirming our own baptism was Linda's sermon. During the first service, I had been interested in the sermon and what Linda was saying, as it was not so loosely related to my own sermon last week. The point of the sermon was that, as God called Jesus "my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased," through baptism God accepts and claims us as God's own children. The idea of being adopted by God has been really important to my personal theology recently, especially as Wes and I discuss adoption. This whole personal attachment to the amazing idea of being adopted by God started when my wonderful mother suggested I watch the music video for Third Day's song "Children of God." Go on, take a break to watch it.
So there I sat, thinking about and listening to Linda's sermon, my personal ideas about adoption by God, etc. etc. And (for the second time), Linda ended the sermon by asking us all to make the sign of the cross on our neighbor's head, while saying something along the lines of, "You are God's child, the beloved." Since Linda and I are neighbors during the service, we did this for one another. It was definitely a powerful experience to hear those words, recognizing that, as Linda said, God is a "well-pleased parent. Period."
After the sermon, we always have a minute or so to reflect on the sermon before we go into the hymn of the day. I spent that whole time practically in tears, amazed at the power of being accepted as "beloved" by God. I don't know why it hit me harder during the second service. I don't know why that reflection led me to being able to say "yes, God" anew. But during that time after the sermon, and throughout the hymn of the day, I was saying a silent prayer of thanks, praise, and release. I know that, over the next days and months, that feeling of "let go and let God" will diminish, and I'll have to remember the time when I, once again, freely gave my life and its path over to God. I know that there will be times when life won't go the way I have it planned. I will wonder what God thinks God is doing with my life. But hopefully I'll remember yesterday, and the overwhelming feeling of peace involved in handing over the reins to the one who knows what is best, the one who willingly adopted me in my broken, unworthy state, the one who loves and guides me through it all.
Sermon 1/1/12 on John 1:1-17
A few years ago, Wes and I took his younger sister to see one of our favorite country bands in concert. We waited for what seemed like forever. First we had to find our seats, and because we had arrived early, there was nothing to do or see except the empty stage. Then there was the opening act: a semi-well-known artist called Taylor Swift. I knew enough of her songs to know I really didn’t care about watching her, so her portion of the concert seemed to drag on forever. Although some of the songs were great, Taylor was not the real reason I was sitting in that theatre. Katherine, Wes’ sister, really liked Taylor Swift, and seemed to be content to listen to her sing all night. Finally, though, Taylor finished singing. Then someone announced that Rascal Flatts would be on in about 15 minutes, after they got the stage set up and the mics ready and everything. And 15 minutes later, as Rascal Flatts played the first chord of their song, everything changed. The vibe in the theatre was totally different. No one was waiting anymore. The reason they had come was on stage. The real thing was happening.
Jesus’ coming into the world is much like when Rascal Flatts finally stepped on stage. There were people who proceeded Jesus—the prophets like Moses and Elijah. There was an announcer who said he was on his way—John the Baptist. But there was no mistaking when the real thing happened. At the concert, the whole audience changed when Rascal Flatts came onstage. Everyone was screaming and overjoyed. The waiting was finally over. The band was here. In the same way, Jesus’ in-breaking in the world changed everything. Jesus came as the light of the world—there was a palpable difference in the way things worked. Like the band coming onstage, there was no denying that something had changed. People outside of the audience might not know anything about the difference, but those of us who were there could barely contain our excitement.
“He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” These are some of the words John gives us about Jesus’ coming into the world. Although all things were made through Jesus, he was rejected by the very ones he created. How is this possible? How did the people not recognize the one who gave them their very being? Jesus came into the world as its light—the dark forces of the world were not able to overcome him. Yet there were many who refused to see the light. Some simply went through their daily lives, ignoring the powerful being that had come down to rescue them from the world’s darkness. Others actively worked against Jesus and his light, ridiculing, challenging, and eventually killing him.
Perhaps some of you noticed that this birth story is pretty different form the ones we heard last week, on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Those stories, from Matthew and Luke, share the story of Jesus’ birth through the virgin Mary. In the other gospel stories, Jesus’ parents are unable to find a room in which to stay. For this reason, Jesus is born in a manger, among dirty animals. He does not enter the world triumphantly, but in humility. He is wrapped in rags and sleeps in a barn. In the same way, John’s gospel announces that Jesus was not received by his own. Although they are two different stories, Jesus is clearly not welcomed into the world appropriately in any of his birth stories. This is just foreshadowing for the life and death to come.
Why would God send his one and only son into such a situation? Why would God knowingly commit Jesus to such a life sentence?
Even today, there are many who do not accept Jesus, who simply cannot find room for him in their hearts or lives. And we are no exception to that. We spend much of our lives telling Jesus, “ I have no room for you to be the center of my life right now. Why don’t you go wait on the outskirts and I’ll call you whenever I need you.” John proclaims that, “From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another,” but we cannot seem to find time even to thank Jesus for the great blessing his life and death is to us. What could the birth of one of millions of babies thousands of years ago possibly mean for our lives today?
But it’s not just Jesus’ birth that means something to our lives. In fact, John’s gospel makes it clear that the manner of the birth is not the real issue—it is the very fact that Jesus came into the world. He sat alongside God, creating the world and its first inhabitants. Didn’t he already do enough for us by giving us life? This doesn’t seem to have been enough for Jesus, however. He came into the world to be the light for the world, the light that no darkness could snuff out, the light that just grows and grows. Yet his own, the very ones he created, did not recognize him, and we continue to not recognize him. We have taken the holiday that celebrates his birth and turned it into a day full of greed and ill will. We have taken his great sacrifice for granted, instead of celebrating each day as a gift from God. We have acted as if we do not know the Lord when he stands right in front of us.
How is this possible? Jesus is called the light of the world. When someone walks into a room and turns on the light, it is immediately noticeable to everyone in the room—especially if they had become accustomed to the darkness. Occasionally, there is groaning from the pain of moving swiftly from darkness to light. Some people might squint or blink repeatedly. But no one is able to act as if they didn’t notice the change. Yet this is what we manage to do on a constant basis. Jesus came into the world, bringing light to it. And the world ignored this fact. Rather than celebrating how Jesus changed the world, we like to pretend it didn’t happen. We’re afraid to tell other people that we have seen the light and the light is good. We’re scared to say that we have learned about Jesus and he has changed our lives. We continue to let the darkness in the world attempt to overcome the great light that God sent.
But there is good news—in fact, there is great news. Jesus didn’t come into the world because we were worthy of his sacrifice. He came precisely because we were unworthy, because we needed his death and resurrection so desperately. God sent Jesus into the world knowing that he would die at the hands of the very ones he came to save. And Jesus came. He not only came, he was willing to come in one of the humblest, most vulnerable ways possible—as a helpless baby. This is where we receive the many blessings of which John speaks. Jesus’ entrance into the world, death, and resurrection are blessings enough. Yet day by day, we continue to have blessings rained down upon us: the blessings of home, work, family, love, and so much more.
Jesus’ coming into the world means that we are blessed beyond measure. We can never pay back the wonderful gifts we have received, and no one expects us to. That is grace. Jesus died for us, sacrificing himself because we had fallen so far into sin. And he doesn’t want anything in return for that gift. Even more amazing is the power that the gift of grace has. John says, “to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.” God has adopted us as God’s own children!
What does this mean for us? What does it mean to be children of God? We all have human mothers and fathers—most of us were not orphans, and we don’t know what it means to feel totally alone in the world. Yet all of our fathers and mothers have fallen short of perfection. Each has made some mistake in their lives, whether neglecting to help us through something, punishing us too strictly, using harsh words against us, or however else they may have failed us. Some of us might have “substitute parents,” those cool people who watch over us as if we were their own children, who bring us gifts, and who never have to discipline us. Even these “parents” are not perfect. So although we were not orphans, we have felt the pain of feeling completely alone, left without the protection and love of our parents.
So God steps in as the perfect parent. This doesn’t mean that life is made perfect, only that we can be sure to always have a wonderful, perfect parent in God. God has adopted us as God’s own children. God even sacrificed the life of Jesus to save us from our lives of sin. Being the perfect parent, God never punishes us more than we deserve. God never neglects or ignores us when life gets too busy. God listens to every word we say, knows our very thoughts, and loves us with all that God is. This kind of love is called “agape”—perfect, unconditional love. Although parents strive to have this love for their children, they inevitably fall short. God, however, never falls short of perfection. There is nothing God would not do for God’s children. Adoption by God is the final say—we cannot make a mistake too big, say something so wrong, or do so poorly that God will ever give up on us. And all because Jesus came into the world to rescue us from our sins.
Jesus’ coming into the world changed everything. Sure, there are always those who do not recognize the change—those outside of the auditorium, those who can’t see that the real thing has come onto the stage. But to those who are present and alert, there is no denying that the world will never be the same. It will never be enough to go back to the opening act or the announcer. We want more and more of the real thing. Jesus was born into the world to save us from our sin, and through his great love and sacrifice, we are now called sons and daughters of God. There is nothing that can rival the grace we have received from Christ. We have been adopted and set free through the light of the world. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Jesus’ coming into the world is much like when Rascal Flatts finally stepped on stage. There were people who proceeded Jesus—the prophets like Moses and Elijah. There was an announcer who said he was on his way—John the Baptist. But there was no mistaking when the real thing happened. At the concert, the whole audience changed when Rascal Flatts came onstage. Everyone was screaming and overjoyed. The waiting was finally over. The band was here. In the same way, Jesus’ in-breaking in the world changed everything. Jesus came as the light of the world—there was a palpable difference in the way things worked. Like the band coming onstage, there was no denying that something had changed. People outside of the audience might not know anything about the difference, but those of us who were there could barely contain our excitement.
“He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” These are some of the words John gives us about Jesus’ coming into the world. Although all things were made through Jesus, he was rejected by the very ones he created. How is this possible? How did the people not recognize the one who gave them their very being? Jesus came into the world as its light—the dark forces of the world were not able to overcome him. Yet there were many who refused to see the light. Some simply went through their daily lives, ignoring the powerful being that had come down to rescue them from the world’s darkness. Others actively worked against Jesus and his light, ridiculing, challenging, and eventually killing him.
Perhaps some of you noticed that this birth story is pretty different form the ones we heard last week, on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Those stories, from Matthew and Luke, share the story of Jesus’ birth through the virgin Mary. In the other gospel stories, Jesus’ parents are unable to find a room in which to stay. For this reason, Jesus is born in a manger, among dirty animals. He does not enter the world triumphantly, but in humility. He is wrapped in rags and sleeps in a barn. In the same way, John’s gospel announces that Jesus was not received by his own. Although they are two different stories, Jesus is clearly not welcomed into the world appropriately in any of his birth stories. This is just foreshadowing for the life and death to come.
Why would God send his one and only son into such a situation? Why would God knowingly commit Jesus to such a life sentence?
Even today, there are many who do not accept Jesus, who simply cannot find room for him in their hearts or lives. And we are no exception to that. We spend much of our lives telling Jesus, “ I have no room for you to be the center of my life right now. Why don’t you go wait on the outskirts and I’ll call you whenever I need you.” John proclaims that, “From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another,” but we cannot seem to find time even to thank Jesus for the great blessing his life and death is to us. What could the birth of one of millions of babies thousands of years ago possibly mean for our lives today?
But it’s not just Jesus’ birth that means something to our lives. In fact, John’s gospel makes it clear that the manner of the birth is not the real issue—it is the very fact that Jesus came into the world. He sat alongside God, creating the world and its first inhabitants. Didn’t he already do enough for us by giving us life? This doesn’t seem to have been enough for Jesus, however. He came into the world to be the light for the world, the light that no darkness could snuff out, the light that just grows and grows. Yet his own, the very ones he created, did not recognize him, and we continue to not recognize him. We have taken the holiday that celebrates his birth and turned it into a day full of greed and ill will. We have taken his great sacrifice for granted, instead of celebrating each day as a gift from God. We have acted as if we do not know the Lord when he stands right in front of us.
How is this possible? Jesus is called the light of the world. When someone walks into a room and turns on the light, it is immediately noticeable to everyone in the room—especially if they had become accustomed to the darkness. Occasionally, there is groaning from the pain of moving swiftly from darkness to light. Some people might squint or blink repeatedly. But no one is able to act as if they didn’t notice the change. Yet this is what we manage to do on a constant basis. Jesus came into the world, bringing light to it. And the world ignored this fact. Rather than celebrating how Jesus changed the world, we like to pretend it didn’t happen. We’re afraid to tell other people that we have seen the light and the light is good. We’re scared to say that we have learned about Jesus and he has changed our lives. We continue to let the darkness in the world attempt to overcome the great light that God sent.
But there is good news—in fact, there is great news. Jesus didn’t come into the world because we were worthy of his sacrifice. He came precisely because we were unworthy, because we needed his death and resurrection so desperately. God sent Jesus into the world knowing that he would die at the hands of the very ones he came to save. And Jesus came. He not only came, he was willing to come in one of the humblest, most vulnerable ways possible—as a helpless baby. This is where we receive the many blessings of which John speaks. Jesus’ entrance into the world, death, and resurrection are blessings enough. Yet day by day, we continue to have blessings rained down upon us: the blessings of home, work, family, love, and so much more.
Jesus’ coming into the world means that we are blessed beyond measure. We can never pay back the wonderful gifts we have received, and no one expects us to. That is grace. Jesus died for us, sacrificing himself because we had fallen so far into sin. And he doesn’t want anything in return for that gift. Even more amazing is the power that the gift of grace has. John says, “to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.” God has adopted us as God’s own children!
What does this mean for us? What does it mean to be children of God? We all have human mothers and fathers—most of us were not orphans, and we don’t know what it means to feel totally alone in the world. Yet all of our fathers and mothers have fallen short of perfection. Each has made some mistake in their lives, whether neglecting to help us through something, punishing us too strictly, using harsh words against us, or however else they may have failed us. Some of us might have “substitute parents,” those cool people who watch over us as if we were their own children, who bring us gifts, and who never have to discipline us. Even these “parents” are not perfect. So although we were not orphans, we have felt the pain of feeling completely alone, left without the protection and love of our parents.
So God steps in as the perfect parent. This doesn’t mean that life is made perfect, only that we can be sure to always have a wonderful, perfect parent in God. God has adopted us as God’s own children. God even sacrificed the life of Jesus to save us from our lives of sin. Being the perfect parent, God never punishes us more than we deserve. God never neglects or ignores us when life gets too busy. God listens to every word we say, knows our very thoughts, and loves us with all that God is. This kind of love is called “agape”—perfect, unconditional love. Although parents strive to have this love for their children, they inevitably fall short. God, however, never falls short of perfection. There is nothing God would not do for God’s children. Adoption by God is the final say—we cannot make a mistake too big, say something so wrong, or do so poorly that God will ever give up on us. And all because Jesus came into the world to rescue us from our sins.
Jesus’ coming into the world changed everything. Sure, there are always those who do not recognize the change—those outside of the auditorium, those who can’t see that the real thing has come onto the stage. But to those who are present and alert, there is no denying that the world will never be the same. It will never be enough to go back to the opening act or the announcer. We want more and more of the real thing. Jesus was born into the world to save us from our sin, and through his great love and sacrifice, we are now called sons and daughters of God. There is nothing that can rival the grace we have received from Christ. We have been adopted and set free through the light of the world. Thanks be to God! Amen.
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