When Jesus asks his disciples, “Why are you sleeping?” he is asking them and us to move beyond the temptation of sleep so that we can be present, be awake to God and the many ways God is at work in this world. 

“That’s one of the temptations of the season of Lent, we just sleep through the season, we ignore the invitation to the Last Supper, the challenging prayer in the Garden, the torture and cross, hoping to wake up in resurrection. It’s easy to drift off.”^[i] To fall asleep and lose sight of the role God invites us to play in creation. In the season of Lent and beyond, we need to wake up. We need to wake up to how our legalistic rules of faith have caused us to lose sight of the love of God for all God’s beloved children. We need to wake up to the ways we focus on our own personal faith, rather than being in a community of faith. We need to wake up so that we can shift our focus, not on our place in the future kin-dom, but embrace our gifts to do the good work God is calling us to do in this kin-dom. We need to wake up to who God is calling us to be and what God is calling us to do. This work won’t be easy, and that is what we are seeing in the Garden. Like Jesus, a life of caring for those on the margins, and calling into question the powers that be, may well lead us to our own garden moment, and in time the cross.

Why are you asleep? As we move closer to the cross, may we be startled awake to see the presence of God in our world. For when we do, we might just be surprised to find our savior looking back at us, in the eyes of a stranger who, like Jesus, is struggling and needs us to be present, to pray, to not fall asleep on the needs of this world and those living in it. Friends, much work is to be done, so stay awake, be present, and don’t fall asleep on God today. 

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Jesus brings us a new definition of life. A King. A leader. A fighter is what the people wanted. Its all they new within the structure they lived. The Jewish people felt that change could only come through more violence. That was their present situation and was their only idea for a hopeful future. What they got was a carpenter, a Teacher, a servant. For the Jewish people, Jesus was a new understanding of power. A radical form of power that challenged them and challenges us today. 

Jesus is God inspired. Jesus is God incarnate. Jesus is God fulfilled. He brings forth a life and a call that inspires us to moves beyond “power over” and into a world that is filled with justice and equality. This revolutionary understanding of power is flowing through Jesus to the broken, the blind, and lame. He came for those who have no power and to remind those who do, that we need to embrace a “power with” mentality. 

In communion this vision comes to life. At the table we are all welcomed. No matter sexual orientation, socio-economic status, race, or disability ~ all are welcomed. It is an act of wholeness that builds up the community. At the table we are invited to come and to be filled with God’s grace and love. It’s an act that moves us beyond ourselves and into a world where hope, equality, acceptance is a part of everyday life. 

So simple. So powerful. So grace filled. So fulfilling. 

A poem by Walter Brueggemann

Ruler of the Night, Guarantor of the day…
This day — a gift from you.
This day — like none other you have ever given, or we have ever received.
This Wednesday dazzles us with gift and newness and possibility.
This Wednesday burdens us with the tasks of the day, for we are already halfway home
     halfway back to committees and memos,
     halfway back to calls and appointments,
     halfway on to next Sunday,
     halfway back, half frazzled, half expectant,
     half turned toward you, half rather not.

This Wednesday is a long way from Ash Wednesday,
   but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes —
     we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth:
       of failed hope and broken promises,
       of forgotten children and frightened women,
     we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
     we can taste our mortality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.

We are able to ponder our ashness with
   some confidence, only because our every Wednesday of ashes
   anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky taste of death.

On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you —
   you Easter parade of newness.
   Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,
     Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom;
     Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth.
   Come here and Easter our Wednesday with
     mercy and justice and peace and generosity.

We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.

Guest Blog Post: Danny Gulden

Driving through a tunnel can be fearful experience, especially one that you have never been through before. I once drove through one in the mountains, dark and never-ending. I mean never-ending. It seemed like I would never the see the light of day. 

Lately, I’ve been thinking about that drive a lot lately. I came across a note I made to myself regarding a church event for March that was postponed. My note suggested that “should be able to have event at the end of April or early May.” The idea was that we should have emerged from the COVID-19 tunnel by then. I was probably being cautious suggesting we wait until May. Here we are though, still trying how best to proceed with things such as school, religious services, sports, and social events, assuming we should be proceeding at all. 

We are weary. I’ve noticed in talking to people (mostly on Zoom or the phone) that there is a weariness in our voices. We are grieving what we have lost and grieving what we will lose. Too many have dealt with the concern that comes with a loved one or friend dealing with serious ramifications of having COVID-19. The list of moments that we have lost continues to grow. Nothing is easy. Every move, each interaction must be carefully thought through. It takes a lot to operate out of an abundance of caution. We are driving through a never-ending tunnel. 

Of course, we are not the first to walk in the dark. The prophet Isaiah promised that “those who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2) Many believe that this is written to people living in great disarray. “Tell me about it” is what you are thinking. The truth is when it seems like we will never see the light of day is when the light shines the brightest. Just when we have resigned ourselves to a never-ending tunnel, the light appears, inviting us forward to new life. I’ve heard people say that God does God’s best work in the dark. Experience tells me this is true. Hope tells me that there is light at end the of the tunnel. 

I made it out of that tunnel in the mountains. In fact, I remember driving straight into the light. God’s best work, darkness to light.

“I can see everything from here.” That is the statement I made as I stood atop Mount Mitchell’s dramatic summit which stands at 6,684 and is the highest point east of the Mississippi. It’s one of those places that stand apart from the ordinary, and you can’t help but feel the Holy. We have all, or at least I hope you have in your lifetime, experienced a moment such as this. It may not have come with a view of creation, or the booming voice of God, but a moment where the mysterious power of the Holy pervades everything.

For the youth I have worked with throughout the years, these moments often come at church camp or on mission trips. Unlike a mountaintop, these youth experience the Holy in downtown soup kitchens, lake-lined vespers areas, or mowing grass and painting fences. It’s a chance for them to step out of the hustle and bustle of life and connect with something greater than themselves. Time and time again, I have seen youth move from self to selfless, and through it all, gain a deeper understanding of God and their call in the world. Often on the cusp of returning home, the youth express a desire to stay. They don’t want to return to the person they were before leaving on the trip. 

That’s the thing about holy moments. They leave us shaken, vulnerable, and changed. We can’t go back to the way things were, and we can’t stay in that moment forever. Brenè Brown says, “Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage…People who wade into discomfort and vulnerability and tell the truth about their stories are the real” heroes and sheroes.

In this new year, may we be open to and changed by the Holy moment’s life offers on the mountains and city streets we journey. May we have the strength to lean into the challenges God places before us, knowing that, through our faith, we don’t go alone. God has not left God’s people without guidance, without help, without hope ever. From Moses to Elijah to Daniel to Jesus, to the Good News of Mark, and including many more people of faith, we continually are helped to see the way of God in the world, as well as the promise of God’s future for all of us.

May we live into that future for ourselves and our world. 

Jesus loved to challenge his disciples, and those challenges still rest with us today. So what does the Kin-dom of God look like? A mustard seed. A mustard seed is not very impressive. It is more common and underwhelming than the glorious kingdom, spoken by the prophets of old. Unlike the cedar tree, the mustard plant is a weed, and it does not rise so high that it may topple and fall. It remains lowly, like a King who enters a city riding on a donkey, who comes not to be served but to serve, and who humbles himself to take the form of a servant.

For Jesus the Kin-dom is not built on having it all, but giving your all. It’s a Kin-dom where shortage gives way to plenty. It’s a Kin-dom rooted in washing another’s feet, kneeling by the stranger wounded on the side of the road. It’s a Kin-dom where enough becomes more, and the world is forever changed. 

In 1895, Civil War veteran, former governor of Indiana, and minister of Wabash Christian Church, died leaving his widow and four small children. Rhoda Jane Castle Chase his wife and mother of his children was nearly blind after contracting smallpox while serving as a nurse in the war, and she was unable to care for her family after Ira died. One of his parishioners, A.M. Atkinson saw the need, and wished to do something. He set out to collect money to provide a yearly income for Mrs. Chase and her family. She only took the money with the caveat that upon her death, $1000 would go into a fund that would take care of ministers and their families in times of death and disability. That gift started the Board of Ministerial Relief, which has evolved into the Pension Fund of the Christian Church as we know it today. Over its 125 years of existence, it has given away tens of millions of dollars in ministerial relief and assistance. A seemingly small gift, which was enough, has made a significant impact in the lives of many. 

Many great things start out small. Just enough becomes abundance. Like a mustard seed, the Kin-dom of God starts off small and grows. It takes root. It invades our lives and reminds us that we are enough and that we have enough. When we recognize and claim that as our truth, we shift our mindset from scarcity to abundance. 

When we choose abundance, it will result in more for the people who need it. When we choose abundance, the world lives into the Kin-dom of God. So, let’s have the courage to make the right choice, for there is enough among us to make it happen, and it all begins with us!

“Whoever shall receive one such child in my name receives me and ultimately the one who sent me.” (Mark 9:37 paraphrased) In the twenty-first century, this example of a child loses some of its significance, but according to biblical scholars, a child during Jesus’ time was an insignificant part of an adult-oriented culture. Children were without status or honor or power, so serving a child would be without gain and inconceivable to the people of Jesus’ time. Therefore, this example of the child challenges us to see the socially invisible as perfect stand-ins for Jesus. 

Fred Craddock, a famous Disciples preacher, compiled a book of his favorite stories.  One of those stories takes place during a vacation he and his wife had in Gatlinburg. During a dinner one night, a man came to his table and began to ask the couple several questions. Upon learning that Fred Cradock was Disciples minister, he proceeded to tell them a childhood story that had taken place in a Disciples church. “I grew up in these mountains,” he said. “My mother was not married, and the whole community knew it. I was called an illegitimate child. In those days, that was a shame, and I was ashamed. When I went into town with her, I could see people staring at me, making guesses as to who my father was. At school, the children said ugly things to me, and thus I had very few friends growing up. In my early teens, I began to attend a little church in the mountains. It had a minister who was both attractive and frightening. I went to hear him preach, and over time, it began to do something for me. However, due to my illegitimacy, I was afraid that I was not welcomed, so I would get there just in time for the sermon and leave just before church was over. One Sunday, some people blocked the aisle, and I was stopped. Before I could make it to the door, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. As I turned around, I knew it was him. At that moment, I knew what he was going to do, he was going to make a guess at who my father was. A moment later he said, ‘Well boy, you’re a child of….’ And he paused there. I knew what he was going to say. I knew I would have my feelings hurt, and this would be the last time I would attend this church. He said ‘Boy, you’re a child of God. I see a striking resemblance.’ Then he swatted me on my bottom and said, ‘Now you go claim your inheritance.’” As the man finished the story, he introduced himself as Ben Hooper, and gingerly walked away from the table. As Fred and his wife sat there digesting the story, Fred recalled his father talking about an illegitimate child who had been voted twice governor of Tennessee. 

            As Christians, we are called to welcome everyone as a child of God or, as Karl Barth, a noted 20^th century theologian, describes it, “radical acceptance of others as the basis of Christian ethics – to think of every human being, even the oddest, most villainous or miserable, as one to whom Jesus Christ is brother and God is creator.” This idea drives home the point of what we as Christians are called to do: to serve whether others have social standing or no social standing. As a congregation full of God’s people, we must ask ourselves two questions: 1) Are we proclaiming the Gospel of God? 2) Are we making a difference in our community? Today, and every day, our calling as Christians is to share that kind of selfless love through service with anyone who we may encounter, whether it is a child, a person experiencing homelessness, or any minority shunned by our current society. God is with them, and so should we. 

I have a confession: I have created a monster. For anyone who has ever been on a mission trip, you know I enjoy a late-night board game once we return from the mission site. The only thing I enjoy more than the game is winning. Ask anyone who has ever played Monopoly with me, and they will tell you, “Kyle is the worst at winning.” It’s true. I am a sore loser, and I’m not a gracious winner. These are not great qualities to have in a youth minister, and I know it. Over the years, I have tried to curb my enthusiasm for winning, but apparently, I have failed.  

For Christmas, my daughter received a game called Sushi Roll from my parents. It’s a fun dice game that has taken over our house following dinner. Each night, we pull out the dice, collect sushi, and see who wins. Like most games, it took our 9-year-old time to get the hang of the game. With loss came frustration and gnashing of teeth. Not a full-blown temper tantrum, but enough to make the time unenjoyable. It’s a shame winning didn’t change enjoyableness of the game. It only took three nights for her to move from last to first place. From sadness to superiority came a giddy young lady, screaming “I won, and you lost!!” OK, I might not be that bad, but she definitely takes after her father. This was confirmed with a look from Sarah following the game.

Michelle Obama has this great line, “We as parents are our children’s first and best role models.” It’s true children and youth are always paying attention to the world around them and how those in authority respond. They watch how their parents, teachers, civic leaders, and caregivers talk, eat, and react to situations and interact with others. It is obvious that I have modeled behavior of a gloating winner, and it’s not pretty. I know because I see it in how my daughter responds to getting the most points in games at our house.  

I began this post with a confession, and it’s something we all need to do in our lives. For us to grow and to seek reconciliation with ourselves and others, we must begin with confession. We must name the ways we have wronged ourselves, our friends, and the world. My list of confessions does not stop with how I react to playing board games; it’s only the beginning. It’s a long list, and each day, I try to name and claim the ways I have fractured the Kin-dom, as well as doing the hard work toward wholeness. 

Mahatma Gandhi once said, “Confession of errors is like a broom which sweeps away the dirt and leaves the surface brighter and clearer. I feel stronger for confession.” In this new year, lets grab a broom and spend some time cleaning out the dirt and leaves that have cluttered our lives and world. It’s a difficult task, but one that will leave you and the world better for it. 

Dear 12yo Sarah, 

In the next year, you will experience so many changes – in your school, friends, body, the world. I encourage you to take it all in, notice the differences but not dwell on them with anxiety. Remember that you are you no matter what, who you sit with at lunch, how tall you are, or what is going on around you. You cannot control all the things, but you can control, mostly, how you react to them.

You get to decide if you participate in the fashion trends, which only do if they are respectful, but you know that. You don’t have to follow trends just because they are “cool.” You are unique by doing and saying and wearing what you want, not what some magazine, classmate, or culture tells you. 

When you look in the mirror, tell yourself that you are a beautiful child of God. Today and always. Some days will be harder than others. Know you are beloved and reflect the Divine within. (That sounds a little out there, but trust me.)

Be kind. To yourself and others, especially your family. You may unconsciously treat them poorly because your hormones are going crazy, and you don’t know what to do with all of your feelings. They will love you anyway. But if you have the chance to be nice or be mean, choose nice. Your parents and siblings have feelings, too. 

Make art. Create beauty in whichever way feels right to you. You may play or dance or draw or write or …or …or. There are so many opportunities to let go and dive into to something which makes you feel alive. When you find something, do it!

Take your school work seriously, but try not to stress over it. If your stomach hurts over some situation, tell your mom. She will listen. 

Surround yourself with friends who make you laugh so hard milk comes out your nose. And don’t be embarrassed when that happens. Keep laughing. Those same friends will be there when times get tough, too. And if they aren’t, you will find your way. Remember, you will always have your family. Always.

Taste your food. Enjoy meals instead of scarfing or abstaining. Try new things. Some you will like and some you won’t, but you’ll never know if you always say no. 

But do say no when something doesn’t feel right. Don’t laugh at jokes that you find inappropriate. Don’t kiss someone just because your friends tell you to. And definitely don’t miss quality time with your grandparents in order to spend an hour with someone you “like.” 

There will be lots of firsts and some lasts as you grow. Savor the moments but remember to be silly. Smile when you feel like, but it’s okay not to. Meet new people. Be yourself when you talk. You can do it and you will!

When the world seems overwhelming and you just wanna crawl in bed and hide, do that for a minute. Then ask for help. No one is problem-less, and your parents are compassionate. They may not have been through the exact same thing, but they can be empathic, validating your feelings. Cry when you feel sad, even in front of people. You are strong and sensitive. Those two words are not opposites. Righteous anger tears are ok, too. Get mad when you see or experience injustice. Pray, protest, practice that in which you believe. 

Show up when someone is hurting. You don’t have to have the “right” things to say, and you don’t have to say anything at all. Just be there. It’s called ministry of presence. Project peace in times of pain. It will mean more than you can know.

You won’t understand all of this now, or even as a teenager (which is next year), but one day, you will appreciate the wisdom. And then you will pass it on. 

I love you!

43yo Sarah   

The poem “The Work of Christmas” was written by Howard Thurman, a theologian, educator, and prominent leader during the civil rights movement. For him, Christmas is only the beginning of our role as Christians. The poem begins: 

“When the song of the angels is stilled, 

When the star in the sky is gone, 

When the kings and princes are home, 

When the shepherds are back with their flock, 

The work of Christmas begins:” 

Famed painter Bob Ross once said, “Put light against light – you have nothing. Put dark against dark – you have nothing. It’s the contrast of light and dark that each give the other one meaning.” Every Sunday, we symbolize the presence of God with us by lighting the candles on the Communion table to ensure the darkness we see in the world has a contrasting view. The great reformer Martin Luther of the sixteenth century used candles on his Christmas tree to symbolize the presence of God during the time of Advent for the same purpose. Today, we don’t use candles on our Christmas tree, but we still use lights to brighten an otherwise dull tree. 

Light can bring us comfort on a rainy day, light makes us safe on a dark and lonely night, and light gives us hope when life seems so impossible. It is this gift of light that the gospel of John is talking about. The gospel of John talks of a man who witnessed this true light. Although he was not the light himself, he spread the word of this light so that all who come into the world would believe through him. 

John is telling us of this wonderful gift of light that we as Christians need to spread, a gift that we must accept, a gift we must spread. Darkness can be a very frightening thing. And we have seen our fair share of darkness these days. A sense of fear has gripped us even in this time of celebration. Fear is a reality, but we cannot be held captive to it. We must let our lights shine. For God does not want us to keep it to ourselves. Even as children, we are told of sharing our light. You remember the song “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine…” We are all blessed with the spiritual light of God, what John calls true light, that each of us needs to spread to one another. 

The birth of Jesus was our gift as Christians. The greatest single act of love was a light. A light that came among us in the form of a child. A gift that should not be kept to ourselves but shouted from the mountain tops. 

“The Work of Christmas,” Thurman says, is this:

“To find the lost,

To heal the broken, 

To feed the hungry, 

To release the prisoner, 

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among others, 

To make music in the heart”.

Christmas is not over. It’s just beginning. Our call didn’t stop last week. Instead, it has just begun. There are those who are still lost, those who are broken, those who are hungry, those who are in prison. There is war when there should be peace, and sad hearts when there should be music. God is with these people, and so should we in this New Year. Let’s get to work.