McFarland United Church of Christ Sermons

Hungry (MUCC Sermon July 10th 2011)

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 06:41:42 PDT

“Hungry”

Rev. Kerri Parker, McFarland UCC

Fourth Sunday After Pentecost (July 10, 2011)

Genesis 25:19-34

So Esau didn’t make the wisest choice. Selling his birthright for a bowl of stew. Life is full of

choices. We know this story. We’ve seen it once or twice.

We can see it in our social institutions - government and corporate interests are always making

trade-offs, some wiser than others. We can also see it on a personal level. Most of us have

been told about the importance of making “good choices” once or twice. Study for the exam,

or go out with your friends. Stay up for the premier of the latest Harry Potter movie, or get a

good night’s sleep and see it on the weekend? Use the credit card to buy the bright shiny new

iPad right away, or save up for it?

Perhaps you’ve even judged someone else’s choices. It was that man’s choice to regularly eat

unhealthy food that led to his being overweight. That woman in the dark sunglasses? It was

her choice to stay out late partying that led to what appeared to be a monumental hangover

the next day. Those people listed in the legal notices, announcing foreclosures and sheriff’s

sales? It was their financial irresponsibility, a choice to take on a mortgage they couldn’t afford

that led to bankruptcy.

The descendants of Abraham and Sarah, we see in scripture, are not always skilled at making

good choices. As ill-considered as it was, it was Esau’s choice to sell his birthright for a bowl of

stew. Or, maybe not.

Maybe it’s not that simple.

What if it was a genetic or metabolic disorder that led to that family’s weight gain? What if

she was wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day because she had been crying, and her headache

came from staying awake all night waiting for a husband who didn’t come home? What if he

had been pressured into a mortgage with balloon payments, convinced by the lender that they

would be covered by rising equity, and he could eventually refinance?

Siblings are not immune from taking advantage of one another. One wants something the

other has. And he’s willing to exert a little influence to make sure he gets his way. Jacob

prepares the most delicious stew ever, has it set to be practically irresistible when his brother

comes home, wafting its incredible scent around their family camp. And then Esau comes

in from the field: “Oh, you want some dinner? What’s it worth to you?” Esau is caught by

surprise, trapped by Jacob’s ability to manipulate the circumstances. And he is coerced into a

very costly choice.

***

Our trade-offs are not made in isolation. They are hugely affected by the systems we have

created, the environment around us. And most of our systems are structured for efficiency,

and for profits, rather than for justice.

It would be easier to think of this as a nice tame bible story that can stay here in church, here

in our holy book, when we go home to tackle the rest of our weekend plans. But the story of

Jacob and Esau comes to life every day all over the USA, including here in the Madison area.

There are those who have ready access to food, and those who have to make expensive trade-

offs for the calories that will keep a hungry body running.

Let me introduce you to Esau. Esau is a young man, living in a medium-sized city somewhere

in this great nation of ours. His family mostly uses the bus, or borrows rides from friends to get

around. Owning a vehicle is way too expensive for their family. At one point, they had a car

but it broke down, sat on the street for a while, and got towed. Gas isn’t in the family budget,

even if they could swing the cost of a used car.

When they run out of something midweek, Esau gets sent to the neighborhood store to pick it

up. It’s a lot more expensive there than at the bargain grocery, but it’s within walking distance.

Getting to the grocery store would take about 3 hours worth of bus rides, counting time for

transfers. It’s only a quarter mile walk to the little place on the corner. Things aren’t always

the freshest there. The cooler felt a little on the warm side, on the date on the bag says it

expires tomorrow - but mom says growing kids need dairy. He hands five dollars to the cashier

and heads home lugging his gallon of milk.

Somewhere else, in one of the suburbs of this city, lives Jacob and his family. Jacob’s folks work

all week, too. Mom swings by the grocery store on her way home, putting a gallon of organic

skim milk in the back of the family’s SUV.

When Jacob gets home from school, he puts his bike in the garage. Looking at his cell phone,

he sees that mom sent a text message – the fresh fruit in the refrigerator is fair game for an

afterschool snack, and don’t forget to grab a water bottle for the road. She’ll be there at 4:30

sharp to pick him up for his ball game.

Esau is sweaty and tired after walking many blocks to get home from school. His route takes

him right by the corner store – the same one he bought milk at the night before. He decides

to pop in. He has a little bit of birthday money left, and he sure is hungry. He heads right by

the display of sorry-looking bananas (which are more brown than yellow). First, the cooler in

the back, for a bottle of Gatorade. A bag of Doritos – 20% more, free! He lingers by the candy,

picks out a bag of Twizzlers. And right by the cash register, selects a twin pack of Slim Jims.

It’s what’s available, and what he can afford. So it’s what he gets.

“Give me some of that red stuff, for I am famished.”

Two brothers. Kinfolk. Relations. One can find a way to get just about everything he needs.

The other needs to make some trade-offs. There are a day’s worth of calories in Esau’s thin

plastic bag. Probably a week’s worth of sodium, and fat. It cost him $6 or 7, just a little bit

more than that almost-expired milk.

This is a reality for far too many people in the seventh richest country on the planet. We

have allowed food deserts to take shape in our cities - places where the environment doesn’t

support healthy eating, where there are too many barriers to healthy food. Many of us seldom

think about the ability we have to drive to the farmer’s market, to put bags of fresh food in our

air-conditioned car and drive home, to choose vegetables over chips, to choose organic over

factory-farmed. Chips and soda and other processed foods are treats, or chosen conveniences

– not our primary source of energy.

But for our kin, down the street, on the south side of Madison, in other neighborhoods around

the country, it’s not a choice. It’s their only option. Grocery chains have chosen not to invest

in these neighborhoods. Neighborhood groceries or convenience stores have a thirty percent

price markup over larger grocery stores, and not much turnover in the more expensive fresh

food. Eating this “red stuff” adds to obesity, diabetes, heart problems, and other health

issues. But there aren’t really any viable alternatives. Our sisters and brothers are trading

their birthright away.

We are Jacob, taking advantage of our privilege, oblivious to the true cost. On a daily basis,

Esau’s needs might as well be invisible to us. Our relatives are starving, spiritually and

physically, just a few miles away, and we have fallen short in our responsibility to them. Until

we choose to change our response to tired, hungry Esau, we are living in a broken relationship

with our brother. Every day we remain unmoved by this sinful and unjust system is another day

by the fireside, sacrificing family bonds for personal gain.

People of faith, I ask you: What would happen if we chose to answer Esau differently?

What type of answer acknowledges our relationship and our responsibility?

We are children of God. We have inherited God’s word, both challenge and promise. We are

descendants of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, brothers and sisters to Jacob and Esau.

And our brother Esau speaks, not very far away: “Give me some of that red stuff, for I am

famished.”

What will be our answer?

Amen.

MUCC Sermon June 19th 2011

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 06:40:32 PDT

“Something to do”

Rev. Kerri Parker, McFarland UCC

First Sunday After Pentecost (June 19, 2011)

I Corinthians 12:1-14

Corinth, 55 A.D: A port city, located on an isthmus in what we now know as Greece. An

economic center. A city flush with money. At least, for some people.

Corinth was a city obsessed with status. There were the rich, and the aspiring rich: Were

you “old money”? “New money?” Or were you among the invisible, lower classes – farmers

and servants and slaves and former slaves or Jews displaced from Rome? Were you an

insider, or an outsider? Did you have the ear of someone in power? How did you earn your

living? What was your identity? These things mattered, for people in Corinth. Your job, as

a responsible member of society, was not to lift someone else up – it was to lift your own

household up. Status first.

I think we know a little bit about living in a status-obsessed culture. Worshipping musicians

and athletes. Counting the “50 sexiest,” the top 10 anything. Rejoicing in the take-down

of somebody who seems just a little too smarmy to be real. Waiting for the next scandal to

unfold, checking the balance sheet of rights and wrongs. Aspiring to the next level of material

comfort, as represented by the websites we read, the cars we want to buy, the next techno-

gadget to be released.

Not surprisingly, that type of worldview had affected the growing Christian community in

Corinth. Sure you may be baptized. Sure, you may consider yourself a Christian. But life goes

on. You still need to work. You still need to support your family. You still need to interact on

a daily basis with the guy in the next office, the one you labeled a “climber” on your first day of

work. It can be hard to follow the teachings of Jesus when the rest of the world rolls right along

the way it always has. So you make accommodations. Your faith remains “in here”, private,

restricted to the worshiping community. Church is church, and you don’t let it interfere with

your other business. You feel good about the talents you have, how you’ve put them to good

use, worked hard, how you have been able to improve your position, and obtain a measure of

security, comfort.

The church in Corinth, 25 years after Jesus, the church that heard Paul’s letter.

***

Hear the words of Paul: “What I want to talk about now is the various ways God's Spirit gets

worked into our lives...Remember how you were when you didn't know God, led from one phony

god to another, never knowing what you were doing, just doing it because everybody else did it?

It's different in this life...”

Remember, it’s different in this life.

He goes on: “By means of one Spirit, we all said good-bye to our partial and piecemeal lives. We

each used to independently call our own shots, but then we entered into a large and integrated

life in which Christ has the final say in everything. (This is what we proclaimed in word and

action when we were baptized.)”

Saying good-bye to partial and piecemeal lives. We used to call our own shots, but not

anymore. Being Christian isn’t about segmenting your life, so the Good News applies here, but

not there. With our baptism, we entered into Christian life - an integrated life where we are

no longer alone – where we are part of a larger body. Where (if you continue on with Paul) it

works just like it does in your own body. You move your hand, it affects your forearm, elbow,

and on up. You are a part of the body of Christ. Your actions affect the whole, and they are

representative of the whole.

Being Christian means you don’t have to dance the dance anymore. No more multiple

identities. Christ calls you to be one person – at home, at work, at play, at church. No more

being defined by what you do to earn a living, by the degree program you have entered, by the

letters after your name. No more being defined by the results you achieve, the resources you

lay up. No. You have one name: Christian. You have one label and it reads: beloved child of

God, member of the body of Christ. That is a gift from the Holy Spirit, and there’s nothing you

can do to wash it away. God stands by you, no matter what.

***

Remember, it’s different in this life. We each used to independently call our own shots, but

we are connected, members of the body of Christ, says Paul. And the body of Christ is gifted.

The Holy Spirit rushes among them like a wind, touching each and every one. The Holy Spirit

comes, bearing gifts. Spiritual gifts are handed out everywhere, to all kinds of people – no one

is left out. There’s no elite, no special category of “Super-Christians” that are more gifted than

everyone else. No special category of givers, and no special category of people designated to

receive. Everyone gets in on it, everyone benefits, says Paul. Everyone.

The Holy Spirit sprinkles around gifts of wisdom, and understanding, and trust, healing, praying,

discernment, communication and more. Each person, says Paul, is given something to do to

show who God is. Let me say that again: each person is given something to do to show who

God is.

Note: Paul is not saying “each person will be visited by the nominating team to recruit them

for a seat on a committee so we can keep the church running.” This is not about us, not at all

about human-generated activity. I’m pretty sure that the divine essence does not waste a lot

of energy finessing whether we have 3 or 4 or 6 people on a committee. Paul reminds us that

it’s not about us – it’s about God. God’s gifts. God’s ministry. God’s power.

We have a task – individually, and collectively. Each person is given something to do to show

who God is. Our gifts are given to us, not for ourselves, but so we can proclaim the Good News

of the Living God. “For God so loved the world…”

The gifts of God are for the people of God. They are meant to be shared. There is no holding

your gifts close to your vest, keeping it private between you and God. There is no more partial

and piecemeal, remember? Let your light shine, said Jesus. How will the world know who God

is, if we refuse to proclaim it?

---

That is the challenge of the Gospel. We live in a world hungry for this Good News. We are

called by Christ, by our ancestors in faith, to move beyond whatever obsessions are dictated by

current culture, and to live the Good News out loud. To move beyond ourselves, to employ our

gifts – spiritual and material – for the common good.

Which is – if you’ve been watching the news – the exact opposite of what our elected officials

and news channel talking heads have been preaching.

The alleged truth they have been preaching goes something like this: I work hard for what I

have, and I nobody can make me share it if I don’t want to. We can pay for endless war without

consequences to our civic life. Cutting assistance to people who are suffering is a morally

neutral act. It is good, and right, to use my gifts to improve my status, without regard to those

around me.

Every day, politicians and business leaders and opinion-makers are preaching this false

and perverted gospel. They are worshipping false gods. These false gods dominate the

marketplace of ideas. The false gods of Arrogance. Greed. Power. Control.

We know better. We know it in our bones and our sinews, in the blood that courses through

our veins. We know it by the Spirit that breathes within us, and by the water that marked us

at our baptism. Proclaim it! Show who God is. Proclaim it in word, and proclaim it in deed.

Proclaim it loudly, and faithfully, with whatever gifts God has given you.

Did God give you a spirit of political activism? Write letters, lobby officials, attend meetings,

join a protest, educate others about our compassionate, justice-seeking God who shows a

preference for the poor.

Did God give you an artistic spirit? Show the world God’s beauty, in music, in images, in

movement, with those who live in places of ugliness.

Did God give you a heart for those who are dealing with a particular kind of struggle? Be Christ

to them. Visit them. Pray with them. Walk alongside them.

Put your gifts to work in the service of Christ – in the service of God who transforms us, who

calls us to transform society in the direction of greater justice and mercy. None of us is exempt.

Each person is given something to do to show who God is. Christian: what is that thing that

God has given you to do?

In our action, and in our inaction, we are witnessing to who we believe God is. And so, the

same question applies to the community. What is our witness? How are we, Christ’s church in

McFarland, Wisconsin, showing who God is? What is that thing God has given us to do?

Amen.

http://ia700604.us.archive.org/5/items/MuccSermonJune19th2011/MuccSermon20110619.mp3

Jean Duchrow's Sermon on June 12th 2011

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 14:31:11 PDT

Acts 2: 1-12

As most of you know, I have been enrolled in Lay Academy for the past 3 years. For those that do not know
what Lay Academy is; the Wisconsin Conference of the United Church of Christ hosts a Lay Academy
program, offering courses of study to pastors and lay people who seek to: deepen their faith, strengthen
Christ's church, and grow in spiritual maturity.

We meet five weekends per year at the Wisconsin Conference Center in DeForest and are usually led by
instructors from various Seminaries or specialists in that subject's particular field. It is a fantastic program and
I highly recommend it.

I have learned much from my Lay Academy experience. It has been quite a journey so far. From the first
class on Theology where I was so afraid these classes would be way over my head to my most recent class on
Evangelism. My faith has been tested, stretched and has grown more than I could have ever imagined.

During our class on the Old Testament we were introduced to the term “exegesis. This Greek word, means a
critical explanation or interpretation of a text, especially a religious text. We were taught that through exegesis
we were to look at the historical background and ask questions to discover the meaning, surrounding the text
and how we can use this today. Well, lets give this a shot.

So what is the historical background to today's text? Pentecost is historically and symbolically related to the
Jewish harvest festival of Shavuot , which commemorates God giving the Ten Commandments to the people,
fifty days after the Exodus. Among Christians, Pentecost commemorates the descent of the Holy Spirit upon
the Apostles and other followers of Jesus. For this reason, Pentecost is sometimes described as the "Birthday
of the Church".

Let's keep that in mind, the “Birthday of the Church”.

So what happened to this “Jesus Movement” after the death and departure of it's founder? What were the
disciples going to do? How would they go on without their leader? All along they had displayed fear and
had questioned what they should do next. They must have felt totally lost and afraid, but as they had been
instructed by Christ, they prayed and waited.

Acts, chapter 2 opens up and it says “they were all together in one place”. This was for the celebration of
the 50th day after the Passover when the Jewish pilgrims gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate God's gracious
provisions of harvested food, land and Torah.

Who was there? Verse 13 of Acts 1 says, “Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas,
Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these
were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women including Mary the mother of
Jesus as well as his brothers.”

What exactly were they really doing? Waiting and probably wondering. What were they waiting for? In Luke
24: 49 Jesus says, “so stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” In Acts chapter 1
verse 8 Jesus also tells the disciples, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and
you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.

After hearing Jesus say these words in many different ways, they must have been convinced because they
waited.

Waiting. Now, how many of you like to wait? Like a child, waits for their birthday to arrive, or worse
yet...Christmas to arrive? Waiting for a loved one to come home, that you haven't seen for a very long time.
For the traffic light to turn green so you can go. For a baby to arrive. We all spend a good share of our lives
waiting. Sometimes we do it patiently. Sometimes, not so much. How do you think the disciples were at
waiting? Were they patient? Did they wonder what this power was that they were promised they would
receive? How would the Holy Spirit come to them? What do you think this would this feel like? Or look
like? But alas, all they could do was wait.

Our texts describes the Holy Spirit as “the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they
were sitting and that tongues of fire appeared among them and rested on each of them. They were filled with
the Holy Spirit.

Now, how would you expect the Holy Spirit to arrive? Tiptoe quietly in? Nah, I suspect that there were a few
of those disciples that would have needed to be convinced. Probably Thomas for one.

What a fearsome sight this must have been. A wild violent wind whipping through the room and red flames
dancing over their heads. Not a sight you see every day.

Then to make things even more interesting, they began speaking in other languages. Why was this? Well
the Holy Spirit had now given the disciples the tools to share the good news of God, through witnessing (or
evangelism). This was for ALL people, even from other nations. What an inspiring sight this must have
been. It WAS the Birthday of the Church. Because of their witnessing, these Jews of other nations, became
believers and now followers too.

Now that you think about it, it seems that time has not changed this practice over the years on how we too can
grow the church.

This text for today reports a miracle that is often overlooked because it is not as flashy as most. No one is
healed. No one is raised from the dead. No one has a demon driven out. No one's water is turned to wine. No
ones sees a storm stopped by Christ's command. What we do see is that every person gathered in Jerusalem
heard the Word of God in their own language. How was this done? Thru the Holy Spirit giving the disciples
and even us, the gift of Evangelism.

This miraculous story reminds us that to hear God's Word we have only to open our ears, for God speaks God's
Word to all people, in all places for all times though the power of the Holy Spirit.

How do we speak to the guests that come into our church? How do we speak to the people outside these
doors? Do we speak their language? When the Holy Spirit is present, we speak the language needed, for them
to understand. Just like the disciples who now were speaking the same language to the devout Jews of other
nations. It's the sharing and receiving of the Good News that is Evangelism and that in turn will grow the
church.

Oh, and there's that word that has so many connotations. Did you hear it?...Evangelism. What thoughts come

to your mind? TV evangelism? Someone pushy? Tent Revivals? Knocking on doors? In your face?

How about this; A messenger that brings the Good News of God, an Angel, Testimony, Acceptance,
Relationships, Love.

Have you ever experienced a Pentecost or Evangelism moment? I'm sure most of you have and didn't realize
it. It was maybe a time when you shared something about your faith with someone or maybe someone shared
something about their faith with you? It is indescribable what can happen. You may not see tongues of fire
but you certainly will feel something. And that's the Holy Spirit.

Let me give you an example. Some of you were present the Sunday when Ryan Krattiger shared his journey of
faith through his travels to Juarez and his experience with the ACT Ride. We were all pulled into that moment
as he spoke. We were sharing in his experience. At that moment, the church was alive with the Holy Spirit.
We all felt it, in fact most of us were actually brought to tears. The love, relationship, the message.

For myself, I can say that I have recently been so fortunate to be on the receiving end of some inspiring
moments in this church during our Fellowship time. I've witnessed some beautiful faith stories that have
been shared with me. I wish I could sit down with each one of you and hear your faith journey, for being on
the receiving end, is truly feeling the Holy Spirit at work. I have found, after these experiences, that I leave
church feeling like I'm walking on a cloud all day. Now, that is what church is all about and I feel like I want
to share it with everyone. It is such an infectious emotional feeling.

Our Fellowship time is a time for sacred moments such as these. It's an opportunity to share with others. To
feel the Holy Spirit at work. Experience it and then to take it out beyond our doors and share it with others.

You may have noticed, a little slip of paper in each of your bulletins. On your slip of paper is one of 8
statements that can be used to start a conversation with someone. I'd like to encourage you to try talking to
someone during Fellowship time today talking about what your slip of paper says, and then listen to what story
you hear back. Wait until you see what happens. I think you will be surprised. Evangelism is so easy and the
rewards are huge. Give it a try.

Christ may have died on the cross and rose again on Easter morning, but without Pentecost, our Easter story
would have eventually become a forgotten memory. When Christ had left he promised to send the Holy Spirit
in his place; to guide, teach, comfort and remind us of who we are and who's we are. Share that good news
today with someone and see what happens. Happy Birthday! Amen.

http://www.archive.org/download/MuccSermonJune12th2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110612.mp3

MUCC Sermon June 5th 2011

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 06:30:40 PDT

http://www.archive.org/download/MuccSermonJune5th2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110605.mp3

MUCC Sermon May 29th 2011

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 06:27:30 PDT

http://www.archive.org/download/MuccSermonMay29th2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110529.mp3

Living Out Loud (MUCC Sermon May 22nd 2011)

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 06:24:40 PDT

“Living Out Loud”
Rev. Kerri Parker, McFarland UCC
_____

Fifth Sunday of Easter (May 22, 2011)
Acts 8:26-40

What happens after Christ is risen, when God is on the loose? That’s the story of the Easter
season, the story we read in the book of Acts. We move from the Gospels, the story of Jesus
and the Good News, to the Acts of the Apostles – the story of how followers became leaders,
how listeners became courageous speakers. It’s a grand conversion story that takes us from
Jerusalem, throughout the Holy Land, and on boats and in caravans traveling throughout the
Mediterranean. (f you’re looking for an epic adventure in the Bible, the book of Acts is not a
bad place to start, with its martyrdoms, prison escapes and shipwrecks.) This is the story of
how a tiny little Jesus movement spread across the region until it was too big to ignore. It
is the infancy narrative of the Church. Jesus people learn how to sit up and crawl, and walk,
and run – they move from babbling to talking in full sentences to speaking with eloquence and
standing up for what they believe.

Unbelievers become believers, in the Book of Acts. Persecutors become passionate adherents
of Jesus’ way. Disciples become apostles. “Those who learn” become “those who are sent
out.” Jesus’ disciples were always getting sent off on a mission. While these men and women
may have preferred to have a good home-cooked meal, wash the dust off their feet, and have
a quiet night in, it wasn’t really an option. They had been sent out, commissioned to serve.
Intellectual belief, the Bible tells us, is not where the road of discipleship ends. Learning leads
to go-ing and do-ing, and inviting others to do the same.

So God speaks, and the Jesus people are on the road again. Which only makes sense. You
don’t grow a church by staying home and keeping the Good News to yourself. If Jesus’ first
disciples had kept things quiet, this infant faith would have died out, not even a footnote in
a Roman official’s report. But we know that the fragile, infant church grows. That church
becomes a child and an adolescent and sets out to make its way in the world.

***

Which brings us back to Philip, the road warrior. You think your life’s busy? Philip, who has
just been proclaiming the Good News “up North” in Samaria, comes back to Jerusalem, gets
sent out by an angel to the wilderness road that leads south from Jerusalem, where he bumps
into someone from Africa, then gets whisked away to the west, and 13 chapters later, he’s all

the way back up to the coastal city of Caesarea. And all along the way, the book of Acts tells
us, “as he was passing through the region, he proclaimed the good news to all the towns.”

The life of a Jesus-follower: you go where God sends you. You listen to the ones that you
encounter there. You accompany these people on their journey. You help them understand
the strangeness of life in light of the Good News. And you offer them their own opportunity to
serve, to be part of God’s sacred story. “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations.”

The church grows, because we take the time to accompany our sisters and brothers on their
journey, we risk sharing the Good News, and we gather new members into the body of Christ.

The task of the church has not really changed in two thousand years. It doesn’t matter what
kind of committees you have, what form of governance you practice, what curriculum you
adopt, whether you believe the world was supposed to end at 6 pm yesterday, or at some
undetermined day in the future. The church is a community of Jesus-followers on a mission:
Go. Listen. Travel alongside. Offer Good News. Make disciples.

It doesn’t matter whether these people are age two or ninety-two. The fundamental work is
the same. Go. Listen. Travel alongside. Offer Good News. Make disciples. Start the cycle
all over again. This is ministry. This is evangelism. This is the work of the church.

So, we will embrace this infant as he grows up. We will get down on the floor with him to look
him in the eye when he crawls, or run around the building chasing after him, or collapse in a
folding chair after chaperoning a youth event. We will do our best to enter that world. We
will listen to him – and other youth – when they tell us what it is like to be them. Go, listen,
travel alongside. We will share the stories of faith; we will help them understand what they
are hearing and experiencing. As the Ethiopian official said to Philip, “How can I [understand],
unless someone guides me?” We will extend opportunities to learn and to serve, so believing is
connected to doing. Offer Good News. Make disciples.

Living up to the community’s baptismal promises is a vital task. We need to follow through on
those commitments to nurture, to offer love, support and care to those in our midst.

But we can never forget that first word: Go. We are also called to do this work with those who
are not yet here. Go, listen, travel alongside. Offer Good News. Make disciples. Scripture
doesn’t promise that prospective disciples will suddenly appear to us, here in Jerusalem, here in
the church. Philip had to go out onto the wilderness road, where someone was traveling. We
follow the Savior who meets people where they are, as they are. We can do no less.

It all starts with the word go. “Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go…” The
first instruction is always, “Go.” Equip yourself for the journey and go. Study the scriptures as
you go go. Pray as you go. Put on your sandals, take up your walking stick, and go. But go.

***

Summer is coming. Many of us will be here, there, and everywhere over the coming months.
Family gatherings, vacations and sports and yardwork beckon. But the work of the church will
go on – must go on - while we are on the road.

The most important work of the church happens outside these doors. In the Book of Acts, First
Church Jerusalem – home base for the disciples - isn’t where the action is. The most important
action is out there, on the road. I invite you to be the church of the book of Acts - the church
on the road - this summer. When you are here at home, come and worship and celebrate
together. And when you are “out there”, when you can’t be here at church, be in ministry.

We have spoken and written about the strategies of our Turnaround Ministry. This story
of Philip and the Ethiopian official shows us how it’s done. We have heard members of our
turnaround ministry group talk about organizing small, “niche” activities to bring together
members of the church and people from the community. A backyard barbecue; a road trip
to American Players Theater, a night of skywatching, an afternoon of golf. God has brought
you into proximity with people who need the Good News. Befriend them. Go, and listen, and
travel alongside.

Then, later, once you have come to know one another better, there will be a chance to
invite them into relationship with the church. Fellowship leads to invitation. They will ask
the question, and you will have a chance to speak. You don’t have to worry about the “e-
word”, evangelism. A person will show you when he or she is ready to connect with the faith
community, like the Ethiopian official who asked, “what is this all about?”- who asked, “what is
to prevent me?” from coming into relationship with the church, the body of Jesus Christ. Then,
it’s time to answer. Offer Good News. Make disciples.

Followers of Christ, you are being sent out by the Spirit. Go out on the wilderness road. There
is someone there who is trying to make sense of the world, someone who needs what the
church has to offer. Go out and fulfill your baptismal vows: Be Christ’s disciples. Celebrate
Christ’s presence. Further Christ’s mission. Extend the welcome of the Christian Church.
Amen.

http://www.archive.org/download/MuccSermonMay22nd2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110522.mp3

The Shepherd's Promises (May 15, 2011)

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Mon, 16 May 2011 10:29:18 PDT

Text: Psalm 23, and John 10:1-10

When we hear familiar bits of scripture, we have a tendency to enter what I call the “Psalm Zone.” That place where you start zoning out, because you know the passage so well. Where your mind drifts back to the last place you heard it, or the place you learned it, or, perhaps even to your grocery shopping list. It’s a place where even the most beloved portions of the Bible lose their punch because you know what it’s all about. So, if you hear, “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love,…” you know you’re at a wedding. Or if you hear “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” you know it’s stewardship season again. Or, in the case of this morning’s reading, “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” is something you expect to hear at a sickbed or a funeral.

But when we do that, when we gloss over these familiar passages, we are not only guilty of being spiritual couch potatoes, but we short-change the truth of scripture. We limit the ability of the Holy Spirit to do her work on our heart, making the word of God come alive for a new season. So, keeping that in mind, I invite you to hear the message of the Twenty-Third Psalm anew today. There are six translations of it included in your bulletin this morning – take your pick! You may want to take them home with you, and reflect on the Psalm this week in your personal devotions. I’ll be happy to discuss the results with you next Sunday, during the Sunday School hour before worship.

But for this moment, join me in stepping out of the “Psalm Zone” and hearing the powerful messages of Psalm 23 with fresh ears.

***

Once upon a time, there was a very elderly woman staying in a hospital. She had been there for a week, spending her time curled up on her bed, with the blankets pulled to her chin, or huddled in the bedside chair. She used to live at home, in her own home, in a quiet community with her adult son. But one day, she had been in her wheelchair in the other room when a shot rang out in the kitchen, and she couldn’t get in, because it was a swing-out door. Her son died on the other side of that door.

When I met her in the hospital, she was deeply fearful. She wanted protection. She was convinced that bad men had come to her house and killed her son, and that they would come for her, too, because she was a witness. Now, I don’t know what truly happened in that kitchen – it could have been any one of a number of things. All I knew was that her terror was very, very real. Everyone who visited her had to reassure her that she was safe, protected, that no bad men would be able to kill her in that hospital. That was, for all practical purposes, the limit of the conversation.

Beyond the basic fact of the loss of her son, her trusted caregiver, she had been traumatized by the event. Her world became very small – a hospital bed, a chair, a rolling table. Everything that entered her life from outside – out there – was dangerous, was frightening. She had one conversational topic in her repertoire: they came to kill him, and they’re coming for me next. She whispered, or muttered or murmured it. Her head was turned down toward her lap, and the words would get lost there. It was a closed loop of hopelessness. There was no tomorrow, there was only that terrible thing that had happened, and there was today, right now, which was spent in an endless rehearsal of what had happened. There was no tomorrow, just an endlessly disappointing and terrifying today.

And so, lacking anything else to do, we prayed. I couldn’t always hear what she was saying, so more often than not, I was praying at her, for her, rather than with her. And then one day, seeking some minor variety in the routine, I decided to pray the 23^rd Psalm with her. When being rational fails, you can sometimes connect with the familiar. I took her hand, ducked my head down so I could see her face, and invited her to say it with me. Slowly, we began. “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.” I could barely hear her whispering into her lap. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.” The pace picked up as we went along, as something in her brain kicked in, and she became more confident in these long-memorized verses. Then, without warning her voice came – her true, full voice - for the first time since we had met: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,…” and she practically shouted the next four words – “I will fear no evil!”

I will fear no evil. A statement of faith in the shepherd, faith that comes blazing forth in the darkness, a song of trust shattering the confines of hopelessness. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for God is with me. I am not alone.

***

Part of this Psalm’s power rests in memory and nostalgia; so many of us have heard it by bedsides and at funerals. It is the portion of scripture most likely to be known by believers and unbelievers alike. Some of us memorized it as children in Sunday School. It is on plaques and prints in churches and homes all over this land. I have a cross-stitch picture of Jesus in my office with the lambs, stitched by one of my aunts, a treasured gift to my grandfather. Some of us may have recited it so many times that it just comes out in one long string without needing to think: “TheLordismyshepherdIshallnotwant; Hemakesmeliedowningreenpastures…”

Despite its familiarity, this Psalm has emotional resonance because it has been present at many of our tender places. But its power extends beyond that. It is a gracious promise to us in all the days and nights of our lives. It is a portrait of the abundant life – a picture that is easy for us to forget in all the hecticness that marks our days.

We have been sold on an ideal of independence and self-sufficiency. In our busy days, we think “I am alone. I must make this work all by myself. How am I going to get all these things accomplished?” We often try to operate without a shepherd, and that doesn’t work very well. Without someone to guide you to the good pastures, the food’s not that great; most of what there is to eat has already been eaten and you keep circling back over the same ground. The river’s swirling so you can’t get close enough to take a drink. You can’t relax; somebody always has to keep an eye out for predators. And so, you retreat. You curl up, exhausted at the end of the day.

Operating without a shepherd doesn’t work out so well. We need something or someone to follow. And Psalm 23 reminds us: who is your shepherd? The Lord is my shepherd. Not all those other voices out there screaming to us, a cacophony of fear and anxiety and alienation, voices that rob us of abundant life. The Lord is my shepherd, the one whose voice has the power to cut through all the clutter, the fear and the doubt.

God promises abundant life. God promises a shepherd to lead us into that abundant life, and a shepherd to lead us in practicing that abundant life. We are promised, when we follow the true shepherd, the Good Shepherd, these things will be made true:

We will never lack spiritual nourishment: We receive the bread of life, living water, a chance to catch our breath and quench our thirst. I shall not want.

We will be guided and guarded: God is good. The shepherd leads us toward the things of God. Even when the way seems dark and fearful, Christ accompanies us. We are not alone. The shepherd carries tools to confront everything that would consume us. God will not let us be destroyed. I fear no evil.

We will be greeted as an honored guest at God’s banquet table: In the face of our greatest fears, God spreads out more gifts than we can possibly imagine. Enemies have no power over us. We are royalty, named as precious in God’s sight, deserving of all good and life-giving things. The good is reserved for us and the not-good is left out in the cold. My cup is abundant.

God’s gracious gifts will be with us always. When my daughter and I say this Psalm, we crack jokes about three little sheep trailing along behind us: Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy. “Hey, what are you still doing back there?” We’re never alone. God’s gifts follow us around, pursuing us. Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life.

These are promises worth living for. When we live like we’re in the flock of the Good Shepherd, when the voice of Jesus is not that of a stranger, all these things come to pass.

Jesus said to his disciples, “I am the gate for the sheep…I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” It’s not imaginary, and it’s not just wishful thinking. Follow the shepherd’s voice.

You who are hungry, and thirsty, and exhausted,

You who are frightened or confused, and tired of making your own way,

You who long to be welcomed and embraced for who you are,

You who need reassurance that God will never leave you:

come.

Come to the gate. The God who conquers death offers a new way of life through Jesus Christ.

Amen.

http://www.archive.org/download/McfarlandUccSermonMay15th2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110515.mp3

MUCC Sermon May 8th 2011

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Fri, 13 May 2011 05:41:03 PDT

“Holy Conversations”_ _____ Second Sunday After Easter (May 8, 2011)
Rev. Kerri Parker, McFarland UCC Luke 24:13-35

Back when I worked for a social services agency, we used to run into a pretty big problem on Friday afternoons. You see, we had an immigrant assistance program, but it was only staffed four days a week. That was all we could manage with the funding we had, to have people providing services Monday through Thursday. If someone walked through the doors on a Friday, there was no one who could assist. It was so disappointing to say, “I’m sorry, there’s no one here right now who can help you with that. Can you come back on Monday?”

To make it even more challenging, the folks we worked with had very limited English language skills. They were primarily Spanish speakers, who came to us because they wanted to learn English, to become fluent in local culture and part of the community. Most of them approached us because they needed help dealing with complicated, grief- and anxiety-filled situations in their lives. And when the staff was gone for the week, all the receptionist knew how to say was, “ellas no estan” – “they’re not here.”

That was the limit of what we could do. “No, there’s no one to help you.” The person’s need – no matter how important, no matter how sad it was – would have to wait. That was the limit of the communication we could offer. If their need didn’t present itself in the appropriate way, at the appropriate time, they were out of luck.

Now when I arrived, I can’t pretend we had any great improvement in the situation. I had five years of extremely rusty high school Spanish under my belt. I couldn’t even roll my ‘r’s anymore. I didn’t work for the program, but somehow, shortly after I joined the agency, the receptionist got wind of this alleged skill. And so when I was the only manager in the office on a Friday afternoon, I would get the phone call. “Um, there’s somebody out here looking for help, and I don’t know what they’re saying.” So I would trot out of my office, over the front desk, and introduce myself. If I was lucky, they would respond with, “¿Hablas español?” If I was not so lucky, they would launch immediately into the detailed explanation of their need, in Spanish, and I was left to stand there, looking sympathetic, but not fully following. And then I would be forced to admit, “Solo un poquito. Lentamente por favor.” “Just a little.

Slowly, please?”

We would stand there, cobbling together a combination of our limited Spanish and English vocabularies – Spanglish – and gestures toward specific lines on important documents, until we could arrive at some sort of mutual understanding of what was going on. Often, I could find some way to lessen the crisis – explaining what the important letter was asking, telling them what time the court appointment was, explaining what their next steps might be. It was an exhausting way to end my week, but it made up some of the most meaningful moments of my time there.

---

How do you have a conversation with someone when you don’t speak the same language? You start with any fragile connection you can build. You start with a one-to-one relationship. You build this relationship on storytelling and empathy, on careful listening, borrowing words and concepts from one another. You keep trying, opening your hearts to one another, cobbling a new language together, and listening for the wisdom that comes in these holy moments.

---

Jesus and the disciples were speaking two different languages that day, on the road to Emmaus - two different languages, two different worldviews.

The disciples were speaking the language of the world as it existed before Jesus, before resurrection. The limited vocabulary they had to work with was: fear, suffering, division, death, my-way-or-the-highway, the empire wins. So when Jesus asked them, “what are you talking about, as you go along?” that was how they answered him. “We had hoped that he would be the one to redeem Israel.” We had hoped (past tense). We had hoped that he would fit into our notions of what a Savior looks like. All the while, standing beside them with an inquiring, sympathetic look, was the unlikely Savior from an unlikely place, who they could not recognize.

And so Jesus reached out to them, using Resurrection language, born in the light of an unlikely Easter morning. Language rooted in his teachings, but now filled with the music of divine love. The vocabulary was this: Promise. Anticipation. Fulfillment. New Life. Generosity. Widening possibilities. He heard their version of the story, and offered his own vocabulary to flesh it out.

Jesus accompanied them along the way, taking the time to travel this road with them. He had sympathy for where they were, emotionally. They had heard of the resurrection, but as of yet, it was still just a tale. The language of the world-as-it-is was still more powerful, in their minds and hearts. So he cobbled together the language they had with the language he had, to make a new thing they could understand.

In-between places call for in-between language. Language that admits to the world as it appears to be, but layers over it a good and gracious God, a divine presence that wills life for us all. Jesus language. A new language that consistently says, “yes, but…” –

“Yes, suffering, but sympathy, too.” “Yes, death, but life, too, beyond that.”

“Yes, unjust powers, but also a holy community where those powers do not reign supreme.”

---

This is the language of Christianity. This is the language that disciples and evangelists used to spread Jesus’ way throughout the world. These are the building blocks of our conversation, of our relationship with one another. And in today’s tale of the road to Emmaus, we hear one of the first conversations in this new, resurrection language.

We are Christians. We are an Easter people, and we speak resurrection language. Jesus taught it to us, all those long years ago. And Jesus is still teaching it to us. This is what God calls us to do, as disciples of the Risen Christ.

My friends, Jesus shows us how to do it. Jesus shows us how to grow a church. Jesus shows us how to do ministry together. Find the lost and lonely ones going along the road.

There’s not some mystical secret about this. It’s not rocket science. The lost and lonely ones are going down the road, just like you and me. We bump into them all the time. Sometimes they’re here, sitting in a chair next to you on Sunday morning, desperately lonely and yet they struggled to walk out their own front door. Sometimes they’re slouched on a sofa, or at a desk at school, immersed in their own private thoughts, convinced nobody loves them for who they are. Sometimes they’re in the next cubicle over at your workplace, trying to figure out how to get through the thirty five things they have left to do today before they collapse, exhausted, into bed.

These are Jesus’ people. They are walking along the road talking about what they have experienced, using the only language they have, to make sense of what happens to them on a daily basis. And they need Good News.

Do what Jesus did: befriend them. Befriend these people. Listen to them. Listen with love to what is burning in their hearts. Offer them the gift of resurrection language: Hope.

Fellowship. Caring. Possibility. New life. Extend the gift of table fellowship to the lost, the lonely and the broken ones. Share a table. Break bread together. Christ will be there, too.

Amen.

http://www.archive.org/download/MuccSermonMay8th2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110508.mp3

MUCC Sermon May 1st 2011

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Sun, 01 May 2011 14:23:36 PDT

“Resurrection Appearances”

Rev. Kerri Parker, McFarland UCC

First Sunday After Easter (May 1, 2011)

John 20:19-31

All poor Thomas wanted was his own resurrection experience. That’s not too much to ask, is

it? Peter, and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, got to see the empty tomb, the

rolled-up graveclothes. Mary Magdalene not only got to see the empty tomb, but angels! And

then, she saw Jesus, himself!

Then, the appearances spread. On Easter evening, when the rest of the disciples were gathered

in a locked room, Jesus showed up. Despite a locked door and closed windows, and fearful

hearts, Jesus came right in and said, “Peace to you.” Everyone in that room got to see the

wounds he had earned on the cross. It was convincing enough. They were confident that it

was him.

But poor Thomas missed out. He’s gotten a bad rap, over time. There’s no need to call him

doubting Thomas. All he wanted was what everybody else got. All he wanted was his own

resurrection experience. Without that, he couldn’t be sure. Without that, he didn’t want to

get his hopes up. Can you blame him?

It’s a big thing, asking for evidence of God, of God’s work, God’s truthfulness. It’s a big thing to

ask for evidence that the promises can be believed. That God’s promises are not only good, but

that they can be trusted. It’s an awesome thing to be children of a God that will accept such

queries and love us all the same.

Who are we, to insist on proof? And yet, we do it all the time. God must be laughing.

Show me, says the unofficial slogan of the state of Missouri. Show me the money, say the

athletes and the investors and the famous ones, and then maybe I’ll play. Show me the

President’s birth certificate, say some of our fellow Americans. Show me, say the people

looking for a church home, say the people who doubt if these “Christians” are all that. Show

me, say the hungry and hurting. Show me, say our children and our youth. Show me, don’t just

tell me. Give me real evidence that these things are true. Not just words. We must see it, we

must experience it for ourselves.

So Thomas was within his rights to ask for the same thing that everybody else got: real,

tangible proof that the “Jesus” that showed up in the room to the others on that first Easter

night was the same Jesus he saw hanging on a cross three days earlier.

It took a week, but he got his proof. A new week, a new day, the disciples were gathered but

the doors were still locked. It was a week after Easter, and still they feared what the authorities

might do. This time, Thomas was there with them.

Jesus waltzes in without so much as a knock, needing no key, and stands among them. Again,

the first words are “Peace to you.” Finally, it’s Thomas’ turn. And turning to Thomas, Jesus

doesn’t say, “how dare you ask for proof!” He just stands there and opens his arms and

says, “Proof? You wanted proof? It’s right here. See it. Touch it. Feel it.”

The One who was faithful to the end, was crucified and died, and was buried. It was a public

act. The scars are still there. They never go away. But even so, the One who was the one

who suffered and died, is the same one who rises from the grave, is the same one who appears

among the disciples with the greeting, “Peace to you.”

We know this from our stories. We have these stories, these promises, as an inheritance.

Faithful people across the centuries have told them and written them down. We have them

here, in our book, people of God. This is not a work of fiction. This is the grand, beautiful

truer-than-true story of what God does with God’s people.

And at the same time, the words and stories recounted in this book cannot contain all that God

has done. We have but fragments from the earliest disciples. We have but fragments from the

witnesses of two thousand years ago. Of what they experienced, of what they understood.

The Bible itself tells us, “Jesus provided far more God-revealing signs than are written down in

this book.” So we count upon these stories, but we count upon something else, too. We count

on our own resurrection stories. Our own resurrection encounters. We are living witnesses of

God’s powers of resurrection. We are living witnesses of the Christ, the one who saves, who

transforms, who overcomes death.

Christ is risen. Easter didn’t just happen last week, or two thousand years ago. Easter

happens every day. The resurrection happens every day. So we don’t just say, “Christ rose”

(which is joyful enough)! The deepest miracle of the resurrection, is that Christ is risen!

Resurrection always comes. Always. Christ is risen. It wasn’t just once, and done. Every day

is resurrection day. This God who promises resurrection, who promises new life, who promises

eternal life, who promises that the Holy Spirit will never leave us – this God who promises that

love will have the last word – would be a shabby God indeed if there was no delivery on the

promises.

God is always rolling the stone away and revealing to us new life. Sometimes resurrection is

announced by a crash of thunder and a shaking of the earth. Sometimes resurrection comes

creeping in, quietly, like the dawn, and surprise us with their presence. Sometimes, it is

accompanied by the song of the angels.

Sometimes, when you are afraid that the promises are not for you, that you have missed out -

or even worse, been left out - resurrection walks right through a locked door, scars and all, and

says, “Peace to you.”

Resurrection happens every single day. There are dozens of resurrection stories in this room.

I know this. If you have a resurrection story, if a resurrection story is part of your story (don’t

worry, I’m not going to ask you to share the details today) raise your hand.

Look. We are an Easter people.

God delivers on God’s promises: Goodness is stronger than evil. Love is stronger than hate.

Light is stronger than darkness. Life is stronger than death. Easter morning did come. And

Easter morning has come. And Easter morning will come. (Can I get an Amen?)

This is our faith. Both the resurrection stories we have received, and our own, personal

encounters with the living Christ. We take them both together. Together, they make up a

faith that stands up against the worst the world can give.

See the wounds. Touch the wounds. And see the living Christ, here among us.

Christ is Risen! Alleluia!

Amen.

http://www.archive.org/download/MuccSermonMay1st2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110501.mp3

McFarland UCC Sermon April 24th 2011 (Easter)

pastor@mcfarlanducc.org (Kerri Parker) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 19:17:14 PDT

Pastor Kerri Parker's sermon at the McFarland United Church of Christ on April 24th 2011 (Easter)

“In Their Own Words: Mary Magdalene”
Rev. Kerri Parker, McFarland UCC

Easter Sunday (April 24, 2011)
John 20:1-18

“Why are you weeping?” they asked me.

As if the simple fact that I was a woman standing alone by a grave in that lonely hour before the
sunrise, weren’t enough.

I could have given them any number of answers.

It wasn’t just those horrible last hours that had me weeping. That was just the beginning of
what had me aching inside.

My dearest friend, teacher and guide, was gone.

Our community, this family that we built, was scattered and grieving. One of our own had
betrayed us – had betrayed him.

Once, we had hope. Once, we were a community. A people. A movement. Our lives had
meaning, and purpose.

And now we were no people. We were alone. I was alone.

Why was I weeping? There were millions of answers to that question.

But the biggest one was this: someone had taken Jesus’ body. His body was missing. I realize
how absurd that sounds, but it’s true: when I arrived, the stone was gone, the tomb was open.

The tomb was as empty as my hopes and dreams were, that morning. His body was missing. It
was an extra layer of grief, on top of what was already so difficult to bear.

And then again, “Why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?”

Why mock a grieving woman?

“Who are you looking for?” Just the one person who could take away this pain, who could
make the world right again. The one person who called us out of our daily routines, the one
who gave our lives meaning.

--

“Who are you looking for?” It was one of his favorite questions. Right up there with “What are
you looking for?” or “Why are you looking for me?”

He said that to his parents, in the temple, when he was just a young thing, and they were
frantic with worry at having lost him. “Why are you looking for me, didn’t you know I’d be
here, in my Father’s house?” And you’d want to clutch him to you, hold on for dear life, and
say, “don’t you ever wander away like that again! I thought we had lost you forever!”

He said it to John’s disciples, when they started tagging along behind him. “What are you
looking for?” They didn’t quite know how to answer. How can you put words to this
indefinable longing? This sense that things aren’t quite right, that there’s something missing.
Once you were certain you were on the right path, and then, not. So you stutter and stammer
and finally spit out a question, instead of an answer. “Where are you staying?” As if it were
suddenly of the utmost importance to know, so he doesn’t sneak away from you in the middle
of the night, before you have a chance to know him.

We were all afraid of losing him, from the very beginning. We were all afraid of losing him,
because he helped us see the hole in our hearts that God was just waiting to enter. He had a
tendency toward risk-taking. He was so sure of himself. So he’d walk up and ask the disarming
question. “What are you seeking?” And suddenly, you’d be spilling your heart out to him.
“I’m seeking healing,” they would say. Or “fellowship,” or “truth,” or “forgiveness.”

He saw the beauty in us that we were afraid to see. He looked right through our rough edges
and imperfections and saw us as beloved children of God. He treated people with honor,
embraced them as companions – even people like you, and like me! You didn’t need any
special qualification to walk with him, just a willingness to open your heart.

“What are you looking for?” That’s what I was looking for. That’s who I was looking for. The
One who paid attention to the important things. The one who encouraged us to live with every
fiber of our being. The One who poured himself out for us, who told us to love one another,
who showed us that there was something more to live for.

I ached to have him back, and yet it was impossible. Dead is dead. So I was weeping in the
Garden, that morning, because not only had we lost him, but we had lost him. He was dead,
and his body had gone missing, and there was nothing certain in the world anymore.

--

Tears running down my face, I asked the gardener, “Where have you laid him?” It mattered,
deeply. I wanted to care for him, in the way that he had cared for us. I didn’t know who this
gardener was, but at that moment, I was reaching out for something, anything.

And that moment was when the world righted itself again. “Mary,” he said. It was Jesus! He
spoke my name. He spoke my name and it echoed in my soul. It splashed into my thirsty spirit,
carrying with it joy, and confidence, and certainty. He was alive!

--

“Why are you crying?” “Where have you laid him?” “What do you seek?”

In a world full of questions, there is so much we do not know. There is so much that lies out of
our control. We are tempted to isolate ourselves, build up barricades around what we have,
live in fear of what we have to lose, pretend perfection.

But Jesus is alive. And that opens up all sorts of possibilities.

Maybe – more than maybe – the dead places inside you don’t have to stay dead.

Maybe - more than maybe - it’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable. Maybe it’s okay to say you
don’t have it all under control. Maybe – more than maybe – it’s okay to let go of whatever
you’re carrying. To ask for help, healing, forgiveness. It is not your burden to bear alone.

Maybe - more than maybe - it’s okay to dream. To imagine a world in which this is not all there
is. To throw an armful of God’s promises up in the air and watch them flutter down like a
shower of blessings on your shoulders and your head and your nose and around your feet. It is
a joy to be shared, to be scooped up and poured out, over and over again.

Maybe – definitely more than maybe – goodness is stronger than evil. Love is stronger than
hate. Light is stronger than darkness. And life is stronger than death.

I know the one you are looking for. I know his name. I know he lives.

Jesus is alive. I have seen the Lord. Alleluia! Praise God.

Amen.

http://www.archive.org/download/McfarlandUccSermonApril24th2011/MUCC_Sermon_20110424.mp3