Text: Luke 4:1-13

Speaker: Joel Miller

It’s hard to enter into the story of Jesus in the wilderness from the comfort of a church sanctuary.  A roof over our heads means we don’t feel the effects of the sun.  Being surrounded by four solid walls greatly reduces the odds of a wild animal roaming by.  There’s no wind.   We’re climate controlled at a pleasant 70 degrees.  There’s a drinking fountain just a few steps away.  There are restrooms with flush toilets and hand soap.  In short, anytime we gather here, and really almost any time in our modern lives, we are far from the wilderness.

It’s difficult to put ourselves inside this story of Jesus in the wilderness, but not impossible.  We have imaginations, and probably most of us have been, at some time in our lives, in a place we would consider wild.   

The wildest place I’ve been the last couple years is the Grand Canyon.  It was with two college friends I hadn’t seen in forever.  Four days and three nights, camping down in the canyon, hiking from the south rim to the north rim, and back again.  It was a lot of hiking with loaded backpacks, and since we hadn’t been together for a long time, a lot of talking.  It was a lot of old rocks, layered down to the exposed metamorphic Vishnu basement rocks, approximately 1.75 billion years old.  When rock is named after the supreme lord who creates, protects, and transforms the universe, it’s old.   

There was a well-worn path, but there were times in the less-traveled parts that felt pretty wild.  Like us soft-bodied relatively new-on-the-scene homo sapiens were flimsy guests in a landscape better suited for California condors and bighorn sheep.  And despite all our walking and talking, one couldn’t help but slow down and feel…

Text: Matthew 17:1-8

Speaker: Joel Miller

Soon after his 27th birthday, a minister in Alabama faced the most fearful day of his young life.  He got a phone call around midnight.  The person on the other line threatened to bomb his house if he didn’t leave town in the next three days.  Also in the house were the minister’s wife and their baby girl.    

He had recently been selected to lead the first ever large-scale demonstration against racial segregation in the US.  A fellow leader later reflected that the advantage of choosing him as leader was that he was so new to the city that he “hadn’t been there long enough to make any strong friends or enemies.”          

But now he had made enemies, and he knew the threat against his family was real.

He hung up the phone.  He was overcome with fear.  He couldn’t sleep.  He got up from his bed and went to the kitchen.   He prayed out loud: “Lord, I’m down here trying to do what’s right…But Lord I must confess that I’m weak now, I’m faltering, I’m losing my courage.”  In the stillness of the dark kitchen, he heard a voice come back at him: “Martin, stand up for righteousness.  Stand up for justice.  Stand up for truth.  And lo I will be with you, even to the end of the world.”  (1)

This was Montgomery, January 1956, and it was Martin and Coretta, and little Yolanda King in that house.  Rosa Parks had already refused to give up her seat on the bus.  She was the leader who said King was a good choice because he had neither friend nor enemy in town, yet. 

The Montgomery bus boycott is frequently referenced as the event that launched the Civil Rights, or Southern Freedom movement.  As Dr. King would later tell…

Text: Matthew 4:12-23

Speaker: Elisa Stone Leahy

“Now when he heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew into Galilee. And leaving Nazareth he went and lived in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: “The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles— the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned.” From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” While walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter) and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. And going on from there he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him. And he went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people.”

The seaside is bright and clear. The sun glints off the light brown hair of a man walking along the shore. He wears impractical white robes crossed with a deep blue sash. Everything is, inexplicably, clean, down to his woven sandals. When the hard-working fishermen look up from their nets, he beckons them to leave their daily labor and follow him, with a shining…

Speaker: Joel Miller

Text: 1 Samuel 25:1-35

Adolescence.  The dictionary definition is pretty simple: “The period of life when a child develops into an adult.”

And that’s about the only thing that’s simple about adolescence.

I wonder Annabelle, Ella, Ginny, Jay, Ruby, Sam:  Does life feel more or less simple than when you were, say, five years old? 

This Coming of Age service is our way of honoring the transition our young people make into adolescence.  If you grow up in this congregation, we want to mark this as a sacred signpost in your life.  You’re no longer a child.  You’re not yet an adult.  It is not a simple time, but it is remarkable.  It’s a stage of life like no other, when you feel, like never before, the intensity of existence.  This can range from lose-your-mind excitement, to the weight of depression.  In adolescence, you awaken your powers, your sexuality, your inner life, even as you start to bump up against your limitations.  You confront huge questions like: Who am I? What do I want to do with my life? Who are my people?  Who or what is God or Spirit or the Universe and how does the small piece of the divine within me stay connected to the whole? 

You know, pretty simple stuff.

Another thing about adolescence: It’s a category of life we’ve only named for the last century, and now that we’ve named it, or created it, nobody’s really sure when it ends.  In the US you become a legal adult when you’re 18.  In Europe it ranges from 16 to 20.  The brain doesn’t fully form until around 25, so maybe that’s a good marker?  Although a study last year from the University of Cambridge pushed the adolescent stage of brain development back to 32.

Two years ago I was at…

Scripture | Matthew 4:12-23

Reflection #1 | by Bethany Davey

I imagine most of us have seen–or at least heard about–the billboard sign on 71, between here and Cincinnati, that reads, “Hell is real.” The sign has become the butt of many jokes, the inspiration for memes and mocking.

I used to find this billboard offensive, a clumsy attempt to terrify onlookers into salvation, an evangelical effort to take seriously the Great Commission…even on the highway. I found it healing to poke fun at my fundamentalist background through this sign. Humor has provided comfort to my inner child, who is still a bit terrified of the idea of Hell as it was conveyed to me in my younger years.

But this week, when that billboard came to mind, it no longer felt quite as silly. When I read it instead as “Hell is real…on Earth,” something that once struck me as slightly ridiculous suddenly resonates. These days, hell on earth seems particularly real.

I am in the final semester of my Master of Divinity program, and two weeks ago, I participated in an intensive course focused on immigration advocacy and immigrant solidarity. Though the experience was supposed to take place in Arizona, at the US-Mexico border, unexpected circumstances led us instead to an immersion experience closer to our school, in the state of New Jersey. Initially disappointing, it was quickly apparent that this shift was essential: the border is now everywhere.

On one evening of our intensive, we went to Delaney Hall, a warehouse-made-detention center, run by the notorious Geo Group.

Our cohort joined local organizers outside the facility during Tuesday evening visiting hours. Waiting families, enduring personal and communal traumas, wait in an environment that reflects the overarching realities of carceral violence. Visitors must wait–sometimes for hours–in the biting cold until their loved one’s cell block…