Tender Mercy

Isaiah 40: 9-11

Luke 1: 68-79

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For much of my engineering career, I headed back and forth to and from Jackson along I-94. Right on the east edge of Jackson there is a Motel – a local place, like a motor lodge. It’s been there a long time. Right above the sign for The Michigan Motel that looms over the freeway, is another sign that says “Prepare to Meet Thy God”.

It’s kind of ominous, seeing that sign there every day. I think it’s intended to do that – as if it’s saying “Are you ready? Are you living your life in a way that is pleasing to God? Do you need to turn around your life before it’s too late?”

Advent begins today. It’s a time of waiting, a time of preparing for the coming of Christ, the birth of God incarnate, the visiting of God upon us.

John the Baptist was born before Jesus, and in our gospel reading today we hear the song of praise and prophecy that his father, Zechariah, proclaims as the first words out of his mouth since he was made unable to speak nine long months before. When the angel Gabriel came to him to tell him that he and his wife Elizabeth, who was well past her childbearing years, would be giving birth to a son, Zechariah would not, could not, did not believe it. And so he was struck mute until Jesus’ cousin John was born. Zechariah gets a white board and a marker and writes an emphatic note – “His name is John”. And then he is able to speak again.

And the great event he proclaims is the same event that Isaiah proclaims – the coming of the Lord God.

Isaiah says “The Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him”.

And what will God’s arms be used for?

“To gather the lambs in his arms,

to carry them close to his bosom,

to feed his flock like a shepherd,

to gently lead the mother sheep.”

This is amazing grace; this is tender mercy.

We’ve talked before about the way that grace is the foundational element of our faith as Presbyterians. We’ve also talked about the relationship between grace and mercy – how grace is getting from God what we don’t deserve, what we have not earned and what we cannot possibly earn – God’s favor, our place as God’s children, adopted and heirs of the kingdom. This is truly amazing grace.

And mercy is not getting what we do deserve – the judgment, the punishment that our sins ought to carry. Because God has forgiven us, has forgotten our sin, has separated us from our sin. That is truly tender mercy.

Zechariah says it this way:

“God has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors.

God has remembered the holy covenant given to Abraham,

that we were rescued in order to serve him without fear, all of our days.

John, this new miracle baby, will prepare the way of the Lord.

He will give God’s people the knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins.

By God’s tender mercy, the dawn will break, bringing light to those in darkness,

to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Tender mercy.

The Greek word that is translated here as “tender” is a word that is used to describe our inner organs – our heart, lungs, spleen. So this is mercy that is closest to the heart of God, the essence of God. Tender mercy. Heartfelt mercy.

One of the first books I picked up as I began the journey that eventually led me to seminary was a book by Brennan Manning called “The Wisdom of Tenderness”. I picked it up in an airport bookstore on the way home from a business trip, and I found that it spoke to the stirrings that were already in my heart – that the world was intended to work in a way that was different from the dog-eat-dog, competitive, achievement-oriented lifestyle that I had been steeped in for so much of my adult life. God had been calling me to consider a new way, and this book was one of the first to put words to it. The Wisdom of – Tenderness. Tenderness seemed like the polar opposite of what was being taught at the business schools, as the way leading to success.

I pulled this book out and read it again this week, as I was pondering the meaning of “tender mercy”.  Its author, Brennan Manning, wrote many books on grace, mercy, and the promise of the gospel during his life in ministry, before his death in 2013. His best known work is called “The Ragamuffin Gospel: Good News for the Bedraggled, Beat-Up, and Burnt Out.” He experienced the tender mercy of God firsthand, as he was saved from near-death from alcoholism.

He writes these words in the preface of this book, “The Wisdom of Tenderness”.

“The crux of this little book can be stated briefly and succinctly. In a moment of naked honesty, ask yourself, “Do I wholeheartedly trust that God likes me?” (Not loves me, because theologically God can’t do otherwise.) “And do I trust the God likes me, not after I clean up my act and eliminate every trace of sin, selfishness, dishonesty, and degraded love; not after I develop a disciplined prayer life and spend ten years in Calcutta with Mother Teresa’s missionaries; but in this moment, right now, right here, with all my faults and weaknesses?” If you answer without hesitation, “Oh yes, God does like me; in fact, he’s very fond of me,” you’re living in the wisdom of accepted tenderness.”

Hearing Brennan Manning’s words coming straight from him is a better way to consider this gift of tender mercy. Let’s watch this short video excerpt from one of his talks.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0iaZp3CzUXk

The gift that comes at Christmas, the miracle of God with us, is that God’s judgment is expressed in tender mercy, in a light that shines in our darkness. This is true for each of us, and for all those whom we feel worthy of determining that they certainly must deserve God’s judgment. 

Our salvation is revealed in the tender mercy of God – because if we had to earn it, we would be doomed – each and every one of us.

Our God is so much bigger than what we so often perceive.

Our God is big enough to love us just the way we are, not the way we should be – because we never will be what we should be.

Thanks be to God, the one we are waiting for, the one we are “preparing to meet”, is not a God we need to fear, but is the God who comes with arms wide open, with tender mercy, with a warm embrace and a “welcome home”, just as we are, whenever we are ready to receive it.

This is a God who comes to light our darkness, to guide our feet in the way of peace. And God knows, we desperately need that kind of guidance.

This is a God that the world needs to know, and that we can show, but only through our own love and mercy toward others.

Prepare to meet thy God. Prepare the way of the Lord. Live in the wisdom of accepted tenderness, now and always. Amen.

Welcoming Hope

Scripture Texts from We Make the Road by Walking (Brian McLaren) - Week 13

Isaiah 1: 10-20, 2: 2-5

Romans 15: 1-13

Matthew 9: 10-17

For Matthew, this story, recorded in his gospel, is very personal. Because Matthew was a tax collector, one of the very kinds of people that are coming under the scrutiny and the questioning of the Pharisees, those experts in and excellent followers of the laws of Moses.

The Pharisees pull the disciples aside to say, “What is up with your teacher, anyway? Why doesn’t he reject people like you and the other ones he is always hanging around with – tax collectors, low-lifes, and sinners of all varieties? What on earth would possess him to prefer “them” over “his own people”, “his own kind”?

Here we are, morally upright, law-abiding, followers of God’s commandments and laws, earning our livings and our reputations in a most respectable way, say the Pharisees. We are the ones who deserve recognition from him. We deserve it because we have earned it!

Even John the Baptist’s disciples can’t quite get it. They don’t understand why Jesus doesn’t think it’s important for himself and his disciples to make a positive example, a model for others to follow, in how to obey laws like fasting, and so on. Aren’t these the ways to live a sacred life?

And Jesus, as always, offers replies that are confounding to them, and to us; responses that are life-altering to them, as well as to us.

·      I have come for those in need, not for those who think they have it all figured out.

·      If you are doing so well, what do you need me for?

·      I desire mercy, not sacrifice; show me your steadfast love, not ritualistic offerings. Go and learn what this means, he tells them.

o   Jesus is quoting the prophet Hosea, and he is also saying much of what we heard from the prophet Isaiah in our Old Testament passage today.

·      Isaiah’s opening words to the people of Israel is that they had better stop acting like the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, who had sinned against God by not aiding the poor and needy, even though they were prosperous, with excess food and easy lives.

·      Isaiah says the Lord has no interest in rituals, sacrifices and prayers, that are offered as if they earn God’s approval. Solemn assemblies with unclean hearts are not pleasing to the Lord.

Instead, God’s people are called to cease doing evil, and learn to do good. Specifically – to seek justice, to rescue the oppressed, to defend the orphan, to plead for the widow.

Just like Matthew, the apostle Paul hears himself in the words of Jesus and the words of Isaiah. For he was just like the Pharisees through and through; a devout Jew who dedicated himself to observing the laws of Moses, and who had become so threatened by Jesus’ disciples and their insistence on loving sinners and Gentiles, of proclaiming Christ as Messiah, that he had taken it upon himself to lead a resistance movement that would shut them down, would do them in. He organized the tortures and killings of early Christians.

And then he encountered Christ the King.

And now, when he writes to the Romans about following Christ the King, Paul says all sorts of unexpected things.

·      We who are strong ought to put up with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves, but we must please our neighbor in order to build up that neighbor.

·      That which was written in former days was written so that we might have hope, which comes to us by the encouragement of the scriptures, and by steadfastness.

·      May the God of steadfastness and encouragement allow you to live in harmony with one another.

·      Welcome one another, just as Christ has welcomed you. In doing this you give glory to God.

o   You give glory to God by welcoming one another.

·      Even the Gentiles, those non-believers that we Jews have always disregarded up to now.

·      Abound in hope.

·      May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

These words are not about strict adherence to the rule of law. They are about the steadfast and abundant nature of God, as shown in Christ Jesus the King, the Lord and Savior of Heaven and Earth. As shown in the unending and unfailing power of the Holy Spirit.

As it is offered to all people in abundant joy, abundant peace, abundant hope, abundant welcome.

As we are called to generously share that abundant joy, peace, hope, and welcome with all those who do not deserve it, at least in pwm our way of judging who does and does not deserve things.

Paul had to get over it; he had to get over the judging and the false ways of dividing himself and his type from other people.

We have to do that too.

Because Christ the King calls us to do so; calls us to accept that the new way, the new commandment, the new covenant, the new wine cannot be held in old wineskins. It will burst out. We are reborn into new life, and we must carry that life out in new ways, in new structures, in new understandings of church, and of loving one another. In new ways of being Christ’s hands and feet and heart and spirit here on earth, to all who have need of it.

To give the hungry food, to give the thirsty something to drink, to welcome the stranger, to clothe the naked, to care for the sick, to visit the prisoner.

Matthew’s gospel tells us that when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and sits on his throne of glory, he will affirm the inheritance of those who do these things, who do these things for the least of these, for the most marginalized and the ones seeming least deserving, because that’s when they have done that for Christ.

There is no basis for judging who should receive our favor, our kindness, our generosity, our hope, our compassion, our love. Because when we freely give to anyone in need, it is as if we have given to Christ himself.

It’s been a rough time lately to have to face that call from Christ.

The world scares us in new ways every single day.

·      Terrorist bombings in Paris and Baghdad and Beirut.

·      Hostage taking in Mali.

·      Boko Haram massacres continuing in Nigeria.

·      Refugees fleeing for their lives from the total hopelessness of the Syrian Civil War.

There is so much temptation to close the doors, lock them tight, keep ourselves inside and safe, keep the strangers out.

How can hope even be a thing in the midst of all this?

How can we look around and see anything to be hopeful about?

To abound in hope, as Paul says – it feels like a lovely abstraction, but nothing that could become real for us or anyone else, for that matter.

How can we possibly hope to step past our fears to express love and hope to others when we don’t even know them?

Our tendency as human beings is to only proceed with an abundance of caution, if at all. To put safety first.

But Christ the King never promised safe lives. Not to his disciples, not to Paul, not to us.

The Lord God, acting throughout the Old Testament scripture, never promised safe lives to Abraham, or Isaac, or Jacob, or Joseph, or David, or Isaiah, or Jeremiah….

God promises to be with us. God promises to supply an abundance of hope. God promises to work through us, person by person, loving act by loving act.

God’s plan is all of us. God’s plan is that we all engage our whole lives in small acts of great love, and that when those combine with all the other small acts of great love, that the world will be changed.

Christ the King modeled this way for us. Christ the King called us to feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, worship through mercy and not sacrifice. To love our neighbors and our enemies. To love ourselves and the other.

Today is Christ the King Sunday. Christ was and is and will be a King that is completely unlike any other – a King that confounds us when we try to make sense of his call on our lives – a King that calls us to be brave in our love, to be fearless in our hope, to return good for evil, to trust that God will work with that in ways beyond our comprehension, to create more good than we ever could on our own. But we must provide the spark, must be the hands and feet and smile and warmth and welcome. For all. And God will take it from there.

Staying Still and Moving On

2 Kings 2: 1-15

Psalm 23

Acts 1: 1-11

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Sometimes when a transition comes along in our life, we are tempted to hang on to things the way they are, and to wish for them to somehow be able to go back to when we loved the arrangement we were in -  we loved the way things were, the people who were in our lives; we loved the fact that our children were young; we loved the fact that our friends were close by so we could hang out with them. 

We loved the life that we had.  And even if it has moved on, often we try to stand still back in that one wonderful place, wishing that we could look around and see things as they were. 

We search for signs of that perfect time.

We search for signs of our own wholeness, the wholeness that we perceived was ours during that time.

 And this is what is happening with Elijah and Elisha, to a certain degree, in our Old Testament story today.   Elisha realizes that his mentor is going to leave him, is going to die.  Elijah is going to pass over the waters of Jordan. And Elisha doesn’t want to hasten that time; he doesn’t want to talk about it with people around him.  He certainly doesn’t want to talk about it to Elijah. 

But he journeys with him, and when the time comes, and Elijah asks him what he wants, and Elisha is told how he will receive this double blessing that he seeks,  he keeps his  eye focused on Elijah. He stays focused and centered on what matters most, but at the same time a transition is happening all around him.  The fiery chariot swings low and carries off Elijah in a blaze of glory and Elisha is left there standing on his own. 

And he can’t just stay there, he has to take the mantle and he has to use it to go and do the work that he has now been appointed to do. He has to move on. And so as much as he loved his former relationship with Elijah, and the mentoring and the teaching and the joy of that friendship, he has to go forward, and so he does.

In the Acts of the Apostles, the very beginning of it starts with the disciples in much the same situation as Elisha.  Christ has died, Christ has risen and Christ is with them for forty days.  And they can scarcely believe their joy.  They had been ready to just go back to their fishing lives after Jesus was crucified, and then Christ was with them again and all things were new.  And they had no idea where this was going to go, and then suddenly they understand from Jesus that going forward means going on without him.

And before they know it, he is raised from their sight.

And they continue to look up into the clouds for a sign of him, remembering the experience of seeing him go, remembering the feeling of him being there and just wishing  they could have back the time that was, just a moment before.

How very much we would love to stay in that place.  

We said together the words of Psalm 23.

We proclaimed that the Lord is our shepherd, that we have all that we need from God. 

And the sensation we get from the first verses of that beautiful poetic psalm is that we can lie down and be comfortable right where God leads us.

We have green pastures in which we are fed.
We have still waters from which we can drink.

(because after all, we are sheep!)

Our soul is restored. We are kept alive by God. God brings us back, causes us to repent.

But if we think about shepherds – they are always moving the sheep from place to place.  They come to a meadow and the grass is eaten by the hungry sheep, and they will have to move on to a new pasture. The predators will come and so they need to move on for safety. 

They are always on the move, so even though on a day to day basis they are provided with still waters and green pastures for their food and for their drink and for the sustenance of their lives, they keep moving. 

And The Lord goes with them, leads them, journeys along with them with both the rod and the staff for their security. 

And they walk through dark valleys, they don’t just walk through green pastures and still waters. 

We don’t either.  We walk through dark valleys until we come out the other side. We face many unknowns in our journey. But God is with us alwaysand God is always preparing the table that we need, always inviting us to join our neighbors and our enemies at the table. 

But not for us to just stay still. 

Two of my very closest friends have just moved out of state.

I have spent time at regular intervals with each one of them; for over 10 years with the one and for over 20 years with the other.  We would get together and talk about all manner of things; we would help each other celebrate the joys and walk through the dark valleys of our lives.  They have both been mentors for me; they have been thinking partners with me; they have journeyed with me through my corporate career; through my time in church and seminary; through the personal crises in my life; and I have journeyed with them through theirs as well.  

We have been good friends. 

And I’ve known for a few months that they were both leaving within a month of each other, and I have grieved greatly over these last few months in anticipation of their leaving. 

The idea of being left behind.  With them being gone and me being here, staying in place and knowing I can’t follow them.  Their lives take them in new directions. 

But I knew how much I was going to miss them, and I do miss them already. 

But even as they left, our relationships took on new shapes and forms.

My one friend is already back in Ann Arbor doing consulting work, driving back into town for a few days at a time, and we met for breakfast this week, just like we always did.

My other friend is living near Tulsa, Oklahoma, and as it happened I had to travel there this week for my cousin’s funeral, and so he picked me up at the airport and showed me around Tulsa and had dinner with me and we caught up with each other. 

When my one friend drove away from the restaurant the last time we had breakfast together as An Arbor locals, and as my other friend drove out of town in his rented moving truck last Friday, it had felt to me like they were gone forever.

I felt like Elisha or the apostles may have felt, each of us watching someone beloved to us leave, until we couldn’t see them anymore.

But I realized this week that it wasn’t true that I would never see them again, but that instead, somehow or other, our friendship would move on in a new way.

It’s the same way with our children as they grow and get on with their lives, isn’t it?

My children are grown and out of the house now, still establishing their life’s directions, I don’t know for sure where they will land or what lies ahead. And our relationship with each other changes as we move on together. We had a time of staying “still”, so to speak, living as family in the same place, and now we are moving on to new ways of experiencing each other.

As a church you are moving forward too.

Many things have changed over the past years, and many of you wish at various times and for various reasons that things would just stay the same. 

Certainly the people from Peace have gone through a grieving process as they have left behind the church building that they loved and that they grew up in, even as they have come to discover and appreciate the good aspects of coming into the merger. 

And the people from PC Utica have given up aspects of how they used to be, as they have moved into life as a merged church, a new church.

The people who gave birth to the second service have grieved as we set that aside this year, even as many of us have welcomed the coming together of the congregation in worship.

I think everybody struggles with the notion that this is now a new church.

And what does that mean for this church? 

It’s challenging to look at everything we do, and to say “how does this fit today?”; “what will we do this year and next year?”; “what will we keep doing because we’ve always done it?”; and “where do we need to make space for new things?”

In the New Beginnings process,they talk about the life cycle of a church having an incline and then a decline and at the very middle point they call it “the risk of recline.”

Because the temptation is there that since things have been going so well , if we can just stay where we are and hold everything in place just the way we’re doing it right now, then all will be well. 

We say to ourselves, “this is where we like it, this is what we want for the future. 

But the reality is if we try to stay in that spot, comfortably leaning back in our recliners, we are going to slide down into decline. 

And so all we can do is to begin to live into the changes that are happening around us, to accept them with grace and courage,  so that we can be part of Christ’s work in continually recreating and reforming the church, recreating its missions,  recreating its responses to the needs of the world,  participating in what Christ is doing in the community and in the world to make all things new. 

So, just like the apostles, just like Elisha, we love where we have been.  We miss what we had.  We stay still for a time, to remember, to be refreshed, … and then we move on.

My friend who moved to Tulsa wrote a reflection after he arrived, about letting go and moving on. He compared it to that piece of playground equipment that looks like a kind of horizontal overhead ladder – a set of bars where you jump up and grab the first one, then get your body swinging until you can let go with one hand and grab hold of the next rung, then let the other hand go and grab onto the rung ahead, and so on, and so on. That rhythm of letting go and moving forward does not allow you to stay put at any point.

If you are going to grab the next thing you must let go of the former things.

As sheep we will come to a place of pasture, where we can regain our strength through physical and spiritual nourishment, but we can be sure the Good Shepherd will be getting us back up before long and moving us forward, moving us on.

As we walk through our life’s journey, following the Way that is the Truth and the Life, let us keep from stalling, trusting in Christ to be the One by whom we are ultimately and completely grasped, and held onto forever more.