https://joelssermons.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/20190317sermon.mp3

Texts: Genesis 15:1-6, 12-16; Luke 13:31-35

One of the comic strips that has rotated on and off my office bulletin board is from Opus.  For the uninitiated, Opus is a large-beaked penguin in a world of humans, plus Bill the Cat.   This particular strip is set outside in a grassy meadow.  Opus and his young friends Oliver, Michael and Milo are sitting under a night sky.  Opus begins by looking at the reader and saying: “I love these summer evening reality checks from Oliver.”  Oliver, the intellectual of the bunch, takes it from there.  Sitting by his telescope, Oliver says to the others: “Hold out a speck of sand at arm’s length…”  The picture moves in tighter on the grain of sand he is holding up.  Then we can see through it, revealing the piece of outer space that lies on the other side.  Oliver says, “That’s the portion of the night sky at which they pointed the Hubble telescope for a week.  It was there – deep within the dot of dark nothingness ten billion light years distant – that they found the unexpected:  Galaxies!  Thousands!  Thousands!  …with billions of stars…and trillions of new worlds.  And beyond these…more!”

Several frames show colorful images of deep space.

Then we’re back to Oliver and company under the vast, luminous canopy.  He continues poetically, “All in the space of a single grain of sand, on the vast beach of the cosmos.”  Oliver faces his friends: “Which nicely frames the question humanity has been asking for millennia.”  To which Michael replies, “What question?”

Oliver, looking back up with his hands open, “What’s the center of it all?”

To this question Michael and Milo, looking back at Oliver, have the same thought bubble:“Me.”

And Opus’ thought bubble, smiling as he reclines on the ground, looking up at the sky:…

https://joelssermons.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/20190310sermon.mp3

Texts: Deutermonomy 26:1-11; Luke 4:1-13

11 million data points.

A week and a half ago I was up in Elkhart, Indiana.  I was attending the Pastors and Leaders event at the Mennonite seminary where I graduated – AMBS.  One of the speakers was Dr. David Anderson Hooker.  He’s a core faculty member at Notre Dame’s Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies.

The topic was systemic racism and the church’s response.  Part of his talk touched on how we unconsciously classify and categorize people, right when we see or hear them, with race as a primary construct.

The best research out there, Dr Anderson Hooker noted, the best research we have to date suggests that at any given moment there are about 11 million data points within a person’s field of perception.  11 million.

So, the feel of your big toe in your sock, that’s a data point.  Your sock rubbing up against your shoe, that’s a data point.  The feel of your breath exhaling out of your nose, and the way it passes over your upper lip.  Data points.  The air temperature.  The sound of my voice.  The sound of a seat mate shifting on the pew.  The smell of cologne or perfume.  The way the light falls on the wood of this platform.  The sight of someone sketching on a large, blank canvas.

11 million data points at any given moment. Physiologically, this means the brain receives that many bits of information for processing per second.

Now I have no idea how they came up with that number, but that’s what the good Dr. said, and he spoke pretty convincingly, so I’m going to go ahead and take him at his word.  I also did a little online research afterwards which affirmed he wasn’t just making it up.  According to research, the brain indeed…

Text: 1 Kings 19: 3-13

Speakers: Christina King, Bethany Davey, Becca Lachman

(Christina) Elijah Runs Away to the desert after his life has been threatened: Elijah walked another whole day into the desert…Finally, he lay down in the shade and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel woke him up and said,

(Bethany) “Get up and eat.”

(Christina) Elijah looked around, and by his head was a jar of water and some baked bread. He sat up, ate and drank, then lay down and went back to sleep. Soon the angel woke him again and said,

(Bethany) “Get up and eat, or else you’ll get too tired to travel.”

(Christina) So Elijah sat up and ate and drank. The food and water made him strong enough to walk 40 more days. At last, he reached Mount Sinai, the mountain of God, and he spent the night there in a cave.  While Elijah was on Mount Sinai, God asked,

(Becca) “Elijah, why are you here?”

(Christina) He answered, “God All-Powerful, I’ve always done my best to obey you. But yourpeople have broken their solemn promise to you. They have torn down your altars and killed all your prophets, except me. And now they are even trying to kill me!”

(Becca) “Go out and stand on the mountain. I want you to be there when I pass by.”

(Christina) All at once, a strong wind shook the mountain and shattered the rocks. But God was not in the wind. Next, there was an earthquake, but God was not in the earthquake. Then there was a fire, but God was not in the fire. Finally, there was a gentle breeze, and when Elijah heard it, he covered his face with his coat. He went out and stood at the entrance to the cave. A voice asked,

(Becca) “Elijah, why are you here?”

————-
“Don’t you know
They’re talkin’ ’bout…

https://joelssermons.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/20190224sermon.mp3

Texts: Luke 5:1-11; 8:1-3

Luke 5 tells the story of Jesus calling his first disciples.

He’s standing by Lake Gennesaret, a local name for the Sea of Galilee.  It’s early in his public ministry, but he’s already well known.  A crowd forms around him, “pressing in” as Luke says.  Jesus needs some space.  His solution is to borrow a nearby boat, climbing in, asking its owners to put out into the lake a bit.  From this floating pulpit, Jesus teaches the crowds.

The teaching session ends, and the focus of the story shifts away from the crowds and toward the fishermen who are left in the boat with Jesus.  The boat belongs to Simon Peter.  Other gospels indicate his brother Andrew was there too.  Jesus tells them to push out even further, to deep water, and let down their nets.  They’d been working all night with nothing to show for it, but Simon agrees to give it one more go.  They let down their nets.  This time they catch so many fish they have to call over their business partners to help them pull it in.  Another set of brothers, James and John, bring their boat over.  The boats are so full with fish they’re barely staying afloat.  They’ve reached maximum capacity.  While they’re still in disbelief, Jesus turns to them and says, “Do not be afraid.  From now on you will catch people.”  They successfully bring their record catch to shore.  But rather than cashing it in, a massive boost to their bottom line, in the words of Luke, “they left everything and followed him.”

Following Jesus, at the very least, messes with your plans for the day.  Even more, it calls for an entire re-ordering of one’s priorities, values, and resources.  First somebody asks to borrow your boat, the next thing…

Text: Romans 12:1-8

Speaker: Mark Rupp

Often when I sit down to write a sermon, I start by taking time to think about what is in the air, what kinds of things are occupying our minds, our hearts, and our lives.  With Valentine’s Day this last week, it means that, among other things, love is in the air.  It only seems right, then, to make this a sermon about love (which, aren’t they all), and to start with a love poem.  This one by Elizabeth Barrett Browning is probably familiar to many of us:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Barrett Browning’s poem speaks of a love that permeates all of life, both days and nights, through praise and grief, quiet and shouting.  It is a love that spans the entire depth, breadth, and height of the experience of life. 

But this year, and probably for years to come, it will be hard to separate Valentine’s Day from the anniversary of the mass shooting in Parkland, Florida.  It is hard to imagine that it has already been a year since the day 17 people were killed at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.  Perhaps it is hard to…