Simply Grace

Pound Your Fist

Mitch was a handful. He was a faithful member of the church, never missed worship, Adult Sunday School, or most importantly mid-week Bible Study. Yet no matter what passage of the Bible was being studied, Mitch would seem to fixate on the same things every week. “Why aren’t you teaching from the King James Version of the Holy Bible?” He would ask while pounding his fist on his leatherbound King James Bible, and glower at me, the pastoral intern, or at the pastor himself at the beginning of every lesson. We would keep plowing through the lesson, until something was said that Mitch didn’t agree with. There would be either more fist pounding or finger pointing. Sometimes an accusation was made of not being faithful to the teachings of God’s law. “We must be faithful to the law of God!” Mitch would say out loud. “The Ten Commandments, and God’s law must be followed. We must strive to be righteous!” Occasionally Mitch would get an “Amen” from one of the senior church ladies nodding their head. This would encourage Mitch to keep at it. “And another thing!” he’d say, “you make it sound like God’s salvation is for anybody! Where’s the effort and sacrifice!?” There might be more head nodding with a “Here! Here!” from the retired Army colonel sitting next to Mitch. Truth be told very few members of the church weren’t active or retired military personnel. Most of whom were officers.  Things got so animated while I was attempting to lead Bible Study that my supervisor pastor decided we needed to pay Mitch a visit during the week. “Of course you can visit, pastor!” said Mitch. “Bring that intern too!”

It’s hard to be interrupted when you are trying to teach or lead. Jesus was trying to teach when he kept getting interrupted by a foreign woman. “Help me! Save me! My daughter is suffering and sick!” she pleaded to Jesus and the disciples. The disciples weren’t having it. They told Jesus to make the woman go away. And so Jesus told the woman that he had come to serve the children of Israel, of which she was not, and that it wouldn't be right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs. Why would Jesus, full of compassion and love say such a thing? 

Someone made the point in Bible study this week that it is common for a religious person to be brought up in the church, learn the ways of God, but at the same time to be conditioned and taught at home to have a bias against certain groups of people. It’s true that that happens. Each of us is conditioned in our home and community to have biases in how we look at the world. Could it be that even Jesus who was sent to love and serve all people maybe had been influenced as a child to harbor a kind of bias against Syro-Phonecians and or Canaanites of whom this woman has been described to be? Jesus wasn’t just God’s son, he was also a human being born of Mary and shared in our human struggles. Why wouldn’t he struggle with overcoming bias?

Nevertheless she persisted. The woman, rather than storming away offended, took Jesus' own words and turned them around and reflected them back to him. She said, “Even dogs get scraps from the table!” Her strategy is fascinating in it’s cunning and power. Another person in our Bible study said she must have been speaking by the power of the Holy Spirit. God the Spirit speaking to God the Son. Isaiah chapter 56 says that God’s vision for Israel is to be a house of prayer for all peoples. Paul writes in Romans that all peoples and nations are guilty of being disobedient so that all people and nations could receive forgiveness and salvation. Even if we are disobedient foreigners, even if we are no better than dogs, God provides for us too. Then again, dogs

Red Rock Crossing photo courtesy Coconino National Forest

We went on vacation last month. We visited my parents' house which is near Sedona, Arizona by Oak Creek. The creek makes several ditches that support orchards throughout the area. One day we drove up the river where the water for our ditch began. After doing a little work moving rocks and removing sticks to maintain the ditch, we got into the stream with some small rafts and tubes to float the mile to my parents' house. 

At the beginning there were many people swimming, eating, and playing in their little camps. We were in the Crescent Moon Ranch State Park. None of them brought tubes or rafts like us to run the little river and the rapids. So many people said, "Where are you going?" and "How cool!" I was walking, pulling, and pushing the small raft that had the two youngest of our children: the two and the four year old. We arrived in the last part of the park where the water flows over quite slippery red rocks. In this part people like to slide on their butt or stomach on the rocks and arrive in a deep natural pool where they can swim as they please. Closing in on this section I felt my feet losing their traction. The current carried the raft with my children quickly. The combination of these forces caused me to fall in one big motion onto the wet and slippery rocks!  

I have empathy for Peter. He was a disciple of Jesus and had the courage to try walking on the water with Jesus. After a few steps he sank, and cried out to Jesus for salvation. Jesus did save Peter and said, "man of little faith." Man of little faith. At first it sounds like criticism or insult. It is conventional to try to have a lot of faith, right? We think that a lot will be better than a little. Who doesn't want a lot of money, a lot of power, a lot of house, a lot of truck, a lot of friends, a lot of opportunities, a lot of blessing, and so on? But what if the Lord is not in hugeness or in "a lot"?

Consider the situation of the prophet Elijah according to 1 Kings 19. The Lord called Elijah up the mountain to receive a prophecy. After going up there a destructive wind passed, a chaotic earthquake hit, and a powerful fire burned. But the Holy Bible says that the Lord was not in the wind, nor the temblor, nor the fire: all great things with much power! Finally a gentle breeze blew; and there was the Lord. Elijah received his message from the Lord in the little movement of the air. God was in the little and small. 

This week several great things happened. In my hometown, Sedona, there was an accident and hundreds of thousands of gallons of sewage leaked into the beautiful Oak Creek, preventing anyone from getting into it. Two hurricanes: Isaías and Douglas hit lands in the Atlantic and Pacific with their winds. The Apple fire burned a lot of forest in Southern California. An earthquake touched the city of Rancho Cucamonga. And of course the Covid-19 pandemic continues to wreak havoc. Many people ask, Where is God in the storm, the fires, the earthquake, and the pandemic? It may just be that God is not in these great things with a lot of destructive power. The Holy Bible says that the Lord was in the gentle breeze not in the destructive wind. God is in the little and small. God is in the small works that people do to preserve life in the face of gigantic powers. God is with the forest firefighter and his shovel, with the nurse and her loving hands, and with the workers who build shelter after the storm. God is in the little and small.

It may be that Jesus was not criticizing Peter when he called him, "Man of little faith." It is possible that J

photo courtesy Dennis Hurd on flickr

Do you remember the other day when I told you about painting our house? There was a bird’s nest in the way, and by God’s grace the baby bird took flight just before I had to remove the nest to paint. Well, during that same paint job I discovered evidence of another life form, one less welcome: termites. So after I was done painting I called a termite guy to check out the house. He looked around and said that I had done a good job painting, and patching holes that there wasn’t much left for him to do besides inspect for subterranean. He went under the house. When he came out he said, “no,” there was no evidence of subterranean, but there was something potentially just as bad, water. 

He pulled out his phone and showed me pictures of a little puddle of water under one of the bathrooms. He also took a picture of the beam and floor boards above the puddle. They were stained with water. He said it was strange because under the puddle was a vinyl plastic sheet for the water to rest on. Someone must have put that there a long time ago, he said. As he spoke the words my heart sank. Something was leaking  water under our house. This was very bad. 

Sheri and I wondered where the water was coming from. We thought that it must be the shower in the master bedroom. It was a walk in shower with tiles. We assumed that the grouting on the tile was wearing out and water was leaking through. So we scheduled a time to go down and figure out what was happening. I put on work clothes, and then a set of coveralls my father had given me, with a headlamp, and my cell phone. When I removed the cover and the wire mesh door to the crawl space, everything was crawling with spiders. My heart sank even further. One good sign was that a rat trap I had left just inside the crawl space was still loaded and had not been sprung. 

As I squeezed my body under the house everywhere was blanketed by spider webs. I began to pray to God to not let a black widow drop onto my exposed neck. I even tried to reason with the spiders out loud, “Listen spiders, you leave me alone, and I will leave you alone. Let’s just call a peace treaty for now, okay?” I belly crawled under the house to where the bathrooms were and found the puddle. It was hard to recognize because the light from the flashlights almost made it invisible. It also blended into the ground because spider webs blanketed the edges of it to the ground. Indeed the water sat on top of a plastic vinyl sheet. I shined my light into the water and small tiny swimming larvae were attracted to the light. I began to feel very uncomfortable. But I could not figure out how the water was there. It was not under a tub, shower, or sink. I heard Sheri walking on the floor above me. I called out to her, and she heard me. I asked her to flush the toilet. As soon as she did, water rained down from above in a circle dripping from the floorboards and supporting beams. The drops of toilet water fell like rain into the puddle. We had found the source of the leak. 

Back up top in the house I removed the toilet and discovered that the wax ring supposed to connect and seal the toilet to the drain pipe was not connected at all. There was no evidence that the wax ring ever properly sealed to the bottom of the toilet. It was as if for however many years it had been since this toilet was installed every time someone flushed the toilet some of the water fell in the sewer drain pipe, and the rest just spread out through the subfloor raining down under the house. 

Paul writes in

Orchard, courtesy internet archive

I like to garden. Where I grew up, on the Red Rock Loop Road, we had irrigation. That means that water was diverted into a man made ditch, the Red Rock Ditch as it is known, about a mile upstream from our house on Oak Creek. The ditch carried water paralleling the creek for a few miles allowing residents and landowners to irrigate the land generously in order to produce and grow in abundance. Our neighborhood was, therefore, a lush green riparian habitat blossoming and defying the dryness of the desert all around it. But we had no vegetable garden at our house! Once upon a time we did. Once upon a time the whole middle lot of Disney Lane was cultivated by neighbors and yielded bumper crops of okra, corn, tomato, and more. I thought it a sin that that massive garden was gone and we grew no vegetables. So I petitioned the local land owners, mom and dad, to sublet a section of the front yard for a vegetable garden. “Go ahead,” they said. It probably seemed a better idea than having me mountain bike or burn campfires out in the wilderness. 

So I marked off a rectangle in the bermuda grass sod. With a pick, shovel, and hoe I decimated the grass raking it up and filtering it out of the soil meticulously. The soft red earth was easily furrowed into rows, and yes, the plenteous cool irrigation creek water filled the troughs between each furrow nicely saturating the earth. But before I planted seeds I allowed myself the luxury of sensuously stepping my bare feet into the mud, feeling it ooze between my toes. Yes, I was a teenager but for a brief window of time in the early summer I played in the mud. I was unprepared, then, when the new pastor to our church drove up to our house in his pastor car. He was coming to see my dad, a builder, to talk about plans for the pastor’s new house. He walked up to me with a button down shirt, khakis pants, and patented leather shoes. I wore a raggedy old t-shirt and shorts; up to my calves in mud. I felt rather silly. The pastor smiled and said, “Hello. Making a vegetable garden I see.” I agreed, not really knowing what to say, having been caught playing in the mud. He smiled and then turned to meet with my father.  

The following day I planted the seeds and some tomato starters along with soil conditioner. Memories of the bumper crops that once grew in the middle of the cul de sac flooded my mind as I stared at the tiny sprouts willing them to grow. Day after day passed and the summer flew by. Soon it would be time to go back to school. Autumn was coming, and the little plants barely grew. I sat cross legged on the ground at each corner of the garden praying and meditating sending psychic energy to will the plants to grow and they did not.  There was no fungus or pest that kept them from growing. There was enough water, but not too much. They just didn’t grow. At church, Pastor Quello asked me how the garden was going. I shook my head and said, “Not well.” Clearly I was better at playing in the mud, than actually getting seeds to grow.

Jesus shares the word of God freely

Jesus talked about the disappointment of plants not growing too. He told a story of a gardener planting seeds in the Holy Gospel according to Saint Matthew chapter thirteen. In the parable the sower throws seeds indiscriminately and wastefully. He throws them on a road, in the weeds, on rocks, oh and yes a few of them fall on good soil. Not surprisingly most of the seeds are eaten by bird

During the Covid19 pandemic and quarantine you have a lot of time to look back at your life and consider all of the choices you have made. You might feel like you have made some good choices, and perhaps some poor choices along the way. You might feel proud of what you have accomplished or disappointed with yourself and how your life has ended up. 

Who is responsible for your life? Did you earn everything that you have, both good and bad? Or are you just lucky or unlucky? Is life random?

Once upon a time I lived in Mexico. It was my junior year of college, and I had signed up to study Spanish. I lived with a family, and studied intensively. While I was there I attempted to practice my faith and attend church. (as throughout my entire life I went to church and even in college was a big part of our campus ministry group) It was very difficult. There were two options. The first of course was the Roman Catholic church. I did not feel comfortable with the fact that priests could not marry, it made me feel uncomfortable and hard to relate to them. The other option was a conservative Baptist church located next door to where I lived. This church tried to make me feel welcome, but they preached so strongly and regularly about strict moral living, that I felt I couldn’t just be myself there (maybe make a drinking joke of some kind). So I stopped going to church. I missed it a lot. 

One day I was having lunch in a restaurant with another student, we had finished class for the day. We were talking about God. For the first time in my life, I openly questioned the existence of God. “What if there is no God?” I said.

What shocked me most of all was the way that the world just kept on going. Nobody dropped their fork in horror. No lightning came out of the sky and fried me in my chair. What did change, however, was how the world felt. It felt flat. It felt as if a great unseeable force that had been hovering just beyond the horizon and my field of vision simply went away. Now all there was; was what I could see. It felt kind of sad, a little lonely, and as if without any great design, purpose, or guidance the world and everything in it, was kind of random.

Saint Paul wrote: “For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me.” Romans 7:18-20

Paul shared the same anxiety I felt that afternoon in Mexico. Our actions are not guided by God, but by random forces beyond our control. We are like dust in the wind. 

It wasn’t long after that, that I got sick. It wasn’t from that restaurant where I had been eating which was very good, by the way.  I’m pretty sure I got sick from drinking hose-water on a soccer field. I was laid out in bed for a day or so. 

The Baptist church had a youth group, and I heard them gather. They were either coming or going from an event. It began with a few voices and then grew to several. They got loud. Played games, sang songs, prayed. There was laughter and joy. There was a little argument that broke out, and the leader had to solve it. Then one by one the voices left as each person went home. Finally the street was quiet again. The sound of their voices, and the fact that I was sick made me experience the most intense feelings of homesickness I had ever felt. I didn’t just miss my home, I missed practicing my faith, and going to church. I felt guilty and wondered if I was being punished by God for not going to church. 

While I was feeling so homesick the Señora Josefina Flores in whose house I lived, took care of me. She baked an apple with cinnamon that really helped my stomach feel better. She would insist that I rest rather than stay up reading, writing, and studying Spanis

I like to learn. Eleven years ago I started seminary at Claremont School of Theology. I was so happy to be back in school. That first week of classes, however, was a bit of a culture shock. At the chapel there was a fiery preacher. She was a year or two ahead of me. Her name was May, and she was short, black, and loud. She told a story about how over the summer she visited a family member in prison. In the visiting area her loved one kept looking over his shoulder and would not relax or focus on May and what she was trying to tell him. She got frustrated and said to him, “You are making me uncomfortable!” Finally he looked at her in the eye and said, “You need to get comfortable being uncomfortable.” 

May took this phrase and applied it to theological education. She told all of us that in order to learn and grow as human beings and disciples of Jesus we needed to “Get comfortable being uncomfortable.” She made us say it to one another. Just doing that made me uncomfortable.  

Right now the world is talking about racism, and it’s uncomfortable. Racism is a sin. It is a way of placing greater value on white skin over black and brown skin. That is what racism is, and it is against the will of God.  

Saint Paul dealt with racism. Through God’s missionary activity people came to faith in Jesus, but their skin was different than what other Christians were used to at the time. Some people insisted that you couldn’t be a Christian if you didn’t have the right kind of skin. This made Paul very angry, and he wrote long letters to teach people that your skin does not save you. He wrote, “While we were living according to skin, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death” Romans 7:5.

Paul makes the point that living your life based on skin only leads to death. It arouses hate, jealousy, and fear all of which are very destructive. Paul gets right to the point when he says: “For the wages of sin is death.” 

Romans 6:23. Furthermore you are not able to overcome sin on your own. You need help. Paul says over and over again that we are slaves to sin. 

I have heard many people say to me lately, “I’m not racist.” What I hear in that, is people saying, that they believe that racism is wrong. Amen. However, what do you think if I told you that I am not a sinner? I don’t sin. If you were even a little critical you would question how true that is. No matter how hard you try, you are not capable of overcoming your own sin. As a human being you will always be vulnerable to sin. Since racism is a sin, you will always struggle with racism too. 

But thankfully, that is not how the story ends. Paul goes on to say, “but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” Romans 6:23. God saves from sin, including the sin of racism. It gets better. Not only does God save you by grace, and not by your skin, but God will reward you when you live by faith. Jesus said:

“Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple -- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward" Matthew 10:41-42.

When you see past skin color and welcome all people regardless of what they look like as if they were righteous prophets and disciples of Jesus, you will be rewarded! You will be given opportunity, security, and prosperity. 

When I was a new student at Claremont School of Theology I had a class called, “Systematic Theology for Ministry.” It was a really good class. One of the books we had to read was called, “Introducing African Women’s Theology.” As we discussed Christianity in Africa I commented how effective the Luther

I like to run. We have a dog named Albie. He is a puppy; just one year old. It’s a challenge to walk Albie because he has so much energy. It works out best if we run. The thing about running with a puppy though, is that they like to make sudden and frequent stops to smell, chase, and investigate. Albie really likes lizards, squirrels of course, and any kind of scent from other dogs. It’s fun when he stops or tries to dart off in a new direction. It’s like running an obstacle course.

One day this past week Albie really challenged me. We were running up in San Antonio heights where the streets are narrow and the houses are big. One house is having construction done. There was a truck parked on the street, as well as several other cars all parked along the curb. We were surprised to see a man sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette, and writing on a clipboard. This surprised and spooked Albie. He did a full stop and started backing up fast and hard. With one fell swoop he pulled himself out of his collar. 

I turned and ran toward Albie the dog to grab him. He was scared though and ran away from me. I called him and kept running, and I think he started to think it was a game. I realized there was no chance I could catch him. So I stopped moving and started calling him. As he stood there in the middle of the street a car started approaching. I was scared, and yes a little angry that he was not listening and obeying.

Last week you learned that we have peace with God through Christ. This week Jesus says that he came not to bring peace, but a sword. Is it possible that there would be a contradiction in the Bible? 

Jesus goes on to say that part of following him is experiencing division and rejection within families. Finding your life in God means losing it from some of the familiar and comfortable places that have given you security. Loved ones may not listen to you. They might go in a different direction than you. They might see the world differently than you.

Nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered

Do you ever feel like you’re not getting the whole story? Every person and group has a bias in what they believe to be true. When you watch the news they present to you a perspective that is limited. How about social media? It seems like there is so much misinformation that it is hard to know what to believe. You might be tempted to wonder if there is any reality at all that can be agreed upon. 

The good news is that God makes sure that the truth will be known. Lies and deception are temporary. They only last a little while. Jesus said, ‘So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known.’ Matthew 10:26. Eventually the truth will come out.

The prophet Jeremiah described what it was like to try to hold in the truth. ‘If I say, "I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name," then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.’ Jeremiah 20:9

In a way you don’t have to worry about the truth being known. God is going to make it come out whether or not you are ready or willing. The truth is unstoppable. But if God has given you something to say, you can exercise great care in how you share the truth. Focusing on the process of truth telling can greatly affect how the truth is received and understood.

There are many applications f

Exodus 19:2-8a, Romans 5:1-8, Matthew 9:35-10:8, (9-23)

Lectionary 11, Year A

Violence is a Problem

I like to walk. It’s peaceful. Maybe it owes to the fact that I had to walk a mile down a dirt road uphill both ways to get to the school bus stop. In the winter when the nights were long it was still dark when the bus picked us up. The amber lights of the school bus glowed warm. We didn’t live within the city limits of Sedona, we lived in an unincorporated area of Yavapai County. The bus stopped in two places: Upper and Lower Red Rock loop road. I walked to the Upper Loop Road bus stop: one mile of dirt road uphill both ways. The bus stop could be a rough place. It drew a diverse crowd of anglos, latinos, rich, middle class, and poor. Some kids lived in houses, others lived in mobile homes. I don’t mean double wide modulars with neighborhood associations. These were trailers parked on the dirt with weeds growing around.  We all knew each other or knew of each other. Siblings, cousins, family feuds, Spanish speaking, english speaking, we all knew each other. Truth be told, there wasn’t that many of us. Most of the people who lived on the loop road and Chavez ranch road were older. Retired people from Phoenix, New York, and Los Angeles who wanted to live peacefully under the shadow of Red Rocks. Kids were not the focus, we all were the minority. 

So it was a big deal when a new kid moved onto the Loop Road. Everyone paid attention. Heads turned on the bus when they walked on. Who would become their friend? Where did they live, was it a house, a shack, or a trailer? It must have been 6th grade, I was eleven at the time, when a new kid rode the bus for the first time. I jumped at the opportunity to make a new friend. I sat by the new kid. We hit it off! Laughing and joking around, I thought maybe I could have a new friend. Then Marcos showed up. He sauntered up to us, sat down, and right away insulted me. “Why are you talking to Wes?” he said. It felt like someone dropped a brick in my stomach. Marcos was known for starting trouble and getting into fights. He was a year or two older than me, and had mercifully ignored me most of the time, but today was different.

I told the new kid to ignore Marcos. “What did you say? You don’t tell them ignore me,” said Marcos. Things started to escalate. I really just wanted to have a new friend, but now I was having to defend myself. Marcos made some more rude comments, and I was thoroughly embarrassed. I tried to find a different seat in the bus, but it was too late. Marcos said, “This isn’t over. We are going to fight when we get off the bus!” I started to shake with fear and anger. Marcos was from a rough and tough background. I’m sure he had been in lots of fights. I wouldn’t stand a chance. 

God is Peaceful

As scary as it may be to worry about a violent confrontation with another human being that is bigger and stronger than you are, there are things that can be far more scary. Like God, for example. If you read the Bible, you know that there are many stories in which God violently punishes human beings for committed sins. Since God is all powerful, there is really

Pastor Wesley Menke, 7 June 2020, Matthew 28:16-20

I like mountain biking. There was a route near my childhood home in Sedona, Arizona. The route was around the stone pyramid. One section was so difficult. It was lowered by an extreme incline and then with a rapid rise. Try doing this several times without putting one foot off the pedal board. This is the achievement of mountain biking, fulfilling technical routes, never putting your foot on the ground.

I went down very fast full of excitement, but at the critical moment I left the trail a little bit and the front wheel hit a dead tree lying on the ground. I was pulled from the bike on the handlebar and I flew forward and fell into a cactus pear cactus. The feeling was weird. The prickly pear leaves were weak and soft without resistance but covered with spicy thorns piercing the skin of the body. I imagine falling in cactus is like falling in love with someone abusive, dangerous, painful and soft all at the same time. Honestly the cactus was not my great cause of pain. This privilege was reserved for the land. The earth with much more resistance than a cactus made an impact on my face and body precious and unforgettable. Stones of various sizes scraped the skin on the face, shoulder, arm, side, and leg. I passed out for several moments. When I woke up I had sand in my mouth with blood, and more blood and dirt on my body. The sky seemed pretty and I was lying in the shade of a pinion tree. Standing throbbing to walk the half mile to the house.

I left the bike in the garage and entered the house faintly screaming Mom! She came and when she saw me, she yelled, "What happened?" We wash and clean the face, hands, arms, chest, side and legs. Then my dad also came helping with a worried face and a little anger. The night was long and painful without much sleep or comfort.

The next day I went to school black and blue. Each person who raped me reacted the same way, with an expression of contracting pain, as they were experiencing the same of you. Also my art teacher who admired and was a mountain biker too. I was sure he was going to say, "Wow boy you brave, you're going to have a very cool scar." But no, he looked upset, and said, "What happened to you?" I felt worse and very far from everyone.

Does it never make sense to you like this: alone in your suffering and unknown to others? Does it never make sense to you that you don't value or count? Maybe it's because of how you looked. An image unknown and frightening to others. Well, if it makes sense like that, you are not alone, because Jesus also became like that. The world rejected him. The world really did not know Jesus. He was unknown, because if they really knew the beauty, the truth and the goodness of Jesus they did not let this persecution happen.

The good news for today's sisters and brothers is this: you can still know Jesus. It's not too late. He said in Matthew 28:

19 Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 teaching them to keep all that I have commanded you; and behold, I am with you always, to the end of the world.

Jesus promised to be present in the people they know in the process of evangelizing. Ironically it means that Jesus is present for you specifically in the person with whom you want to share with Jesus. In other words, you have to meet people that Jesus doesn't know to know Jesus. People, for example, who are black and blue.

***

Finally came the end of the week. I was waiting for a break from school with everyone avoiding me and contracted in pain. And in the afternoon I recorded that I had traffic school all Saturday. This is the result of a speed indiscretion a few months ago. The situation was more or less the same with people avoiding me. I was much younger than the others. After the long day it was time to leave a

Sermon for Pentecost Sunday May 31, 2020

I like to camp. One time in high school a group of friends went camping down Dry Creek Road. We had turned right on the dirt road that leads to Devil’s Bridge and Vultee Arch. We didn’t drive too far down that road as some people didn’t have off road vehicles. There was a place to camp, a pull out from the road not long after the road dipped down and then turned quickly to the right. There was a bluff where jeep tours would stop at sunset. Tourists could take pictures of Cock’s Comb and Doe mountain. It was a spot folks liked to get married at too. Thunder mountain looming to the southeast bearing witness to the solemn act. On that northern slope protected somewhat from the harsh sun the trees grew abundantly. Arizona cypress smooth bark and translucent green bunches of fir needles. Also Shaggy Bark Juniper, the truly dominant tree of the area like sisters and brothers spread out over the landscape twisted and contorted fingers sculpted by soft earth. 

The camp spot was on an adjacent bluff also with good views. We parked around the bluff and carried the tents, bedrolls, firewood, and water up to the spot. At least one person had a four wheel drive truck. They parked at the top because they could. The essence of adolescence is that isn’t it? Doing what you can. After a picturesque sunset and jeep tours had all gone the lonesome starry sky belonged to only us or so we liked to tell ourselves. The fire was easily built. But as the sun went down the wind came up. It blew stronger and stronger. Not being new to camping we knew enough to not burn the forest down. The wind blew so hard we feared sparks would whip out into grass or shrub. It was cold too, you had to get so close to the fire to be warm your front side burned while your backside froze. What could we do?

Nobody knows more about camping than the generation of Hebrews who left Egypt in the Exodus. At first they didn’t know anything about camping. They’d cry out in hunger to God and Moses complaining that slavery was better in Egypt where they could eat their fill from the flesh pots. What’s freedom if you have to eat bugs and dirt in the desert? But the years went by, and the people got better at it. Moses learned too. He couldn’t manage leading the people all on his own. It was killing him. Finally 70 elders would be chosen to lead the tribes, clans, and families. Representatives of the people. But something went sideways. As God’s cloud settled on the meeting place, a wind whipped up and rather than the power being centralized on the prescribed set, two unlikely fellows, Eldad and Medad, who didn’t even have enough sense to be at the meeting place on time, were slayed by the Spirit. Right there in the middle of the camp they started prophesying. No ordination. No chain of command. Just raw spiritual power flowing through them. They called out prophetic words of God shocking the people and sending Joshua to tattle tale to Moses. Moses, like a chef who had just broken 68 eggs to make an omelet smiled at the miraculous off menu two poached eggs. “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets,” he said. 

Air is the key ingredient. What is the Holy Spirit but God’s very breath? Without God’s breath we die. A person without air will live only maybe 3 minutes, and then they are gone from this world forever. The tragic death of George Floyd reminds us of this. On the day that Jesus resurrected from the dead he went in and met with the disciples in the upper room. According to John he breathed on them the Holy Spirit and gave them the power to forgive sins, or to retain sins. “Whatever you forgive is forgiven, whatever you retain is retained.” You have the power. The only way to find new life is to let go of the past when you are ready. Forgive yourself first. Nobody can do your forgiving for you. It is a power that God gives only to you. 

Forgiveness by the Holy Spiri