Today is week two of our series: The Hard Truths That Lead to Peace and Freedom. These hard truths counter the superficial wisdom of our age and lead us to a deeper and mature faith. These truths are intended to challenge and confront us and maybe even rub us the wrong way because they are about reorienting our lives, our priorities and reorienting our relationship with God.

 Last week’s Hard Truth: Life is Hard. The phrase I invited you to contemplate – “It’s not the weight. It’s how you carry it.” Life is hard. It isn’t necessarily fair. It is rarely the way you expect or you think it should be. Life just is. It is the way you respond to life that makes all the difference in the world. We are called to live with gratitude not because life is easy, perfect or good but because God is good. Today’s hard truth doesn’t get any easier: Life is Terminal. You are going to die. Now, who is the idiot that would plan a sermon like that on Mother’s Day? Oh yeah, that would be me! I didn’t expect anyone to be here today and when I saw the ad in the paper: Life is Terminal. What a great marketing plan!

Pray with me: Holy and amazing God, startle us awake to the gift of this moment. Help us to place our truest in you in the mystery of the life that is to come that we might be free to live, really live this life before we die.

Before we read today’s scripture from the Gospel of John, let me offer some insights about the Gospel of John that might shed some light on the story of Lazarus we are about to read.

The first four books in the New Testament – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – are called Gospels, which means literally “good news.” Each tell the story of Jesus and are trying in their own way to convince readers of the truth of its claim that Jesus is the Christ, God’s anointed one.

John puts it up front in his introduction to the story: “The Word Became flesh and dwelt among us full of Grace and Truth. In Him was life and the light of the world. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.”

What’s interesting is that the first three Gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, all tell essentially the same story. Each has a slightly different emphasis, but the story is essentially the same. They are called Synoptic Gospels. You can put them side by side in three columns and actually see how much they are similar and how little they differ.

When you try to compare the Fourth Gospel, the Gospel of John, with the first three, you encounter trouble. It’s virtually impossible. John seems to have been written much later. John presents events in Jesus’ life in a different order and sequence.

But what’s most striking is a series of incidents that occur only in John. They are about fascinating and interesting people: a man who comes to Jesus at night; a woman sitting by a well; a woman who is about to be stoned to death; another woman who pours expensive perfume on his feet; two men who take his body down from the cross; a woman walking in the garden, where he was buried, at dawn on the first day of the week; and today’s story about his friend Lazarus who walked out of the dark tomb at Jesus’ command with his grave clothes still on.

These extraordinary stories occur only in John. John is less a biographer and more of a story teller. John calls the miracles in these stories “signs” – signs of Jesus’ power and glory, signs that point beyond the events themselves to something else . . . to a deeper truth . . . leaving the reader the task of deciding that the story means . . . what it is trying to convey.

The first thing most people ask about these stories is, “Did they actually happen?” Now, the only good answer to that question is that it is the wrong question. A better question is, “What is the truth in these stories? What do they mean? What do these stories tell us about God, about life, about ourselves?

Something doesn’t have to be factual to be true. Let me run that by you again in case you missed it: something doesn’t have to be factual to be true . . . to hold truth. We don’t have to get lost in whether or not the story of Lazarus actually happened in the way it is told. Perhaps it did. The more I know the more I don’t know. But, I’m not sure it matters. A better way of reading the story of Lazarus is asking – what is the story pointing to? What truth does the story hold? What does the story tell me about God, about life?

So, listen to this story about Jesus and three of his closest friends. Assume there is a deeper truth in this story waiting to be revealed. Assume this story is pointing to something else . . . there is deeper meaning in this story important for you to encounter this morning. Be curious what the story might be trying to tell you. (John 11:1-44)

There is so much depth and so many layers to the story of Lazarus. If John tells these stories, not necessarily as biography, but as “signs” pointing to something else – what’s this story a “sign” of? What deeper truth does it convey?

I wonder if this story is less about life AFTER death and more about making sure you live before you die. In the popular mind, Christianity is about getting that ticket punched to heaven after you die. But, our faith is about so much more than that. It is about a love from which not even death can separate us. It’s about a light no darkness overcomes. And, maybe, most importantly, it’s not just about life LATER but about life NOW – full, rich, complete, deep, free, whole; life NOW. Jesus says I am resurrection and I am life. God promises us not just life about death but life BEFORE death. “Eternal life,” Jesus called it – which is a quality and depth of life that begins now, in this life and continues in some mysterious way as we transition to MORE life when we die.

“I have come,” Jesus said, “that you might have life and have it fully; I have come that my life – my joy – may live in you.” I wonder if a truth this story today points to is that it is in encountering death that we are awakened to life.

What do you suppose Lazarus did after his sisters and neighbors helped him out of his grave clothes and he walked into the bright sunshine? My modest guess is that he said, “What’s for dinner?” My guess is that every mean was now different. Every morning when he awoke, every sunrise and sunset, every day blessed, enhanced because of the nearness of death. My guess is that his love for his sisters and their life together was so precious that it felt almost as if it was all brand new and that he couldn’t stop thanking God for the miracle of his one and only life.

I wonder if that’s what this story is a sign of. I wonder if that is the truth this story wants us to awaken to . . . to make sure we experience life BEFORE death. Life is not a given but a gift. We may discover painfully that the world does now owe us a living.

Yet, we continue to rebel against the hard truth. Life is not something to be taken for granted. It is an undeserved, unearned gift, holy, awesome, mysterious. And the paradox is facing the hard truth that this gift, here and now, will one day be taken from us awakens us to life BEFORE death.

Many people when they find out they have a limited time to live finally start living well. They simplify their lives. They spend time with those they love. They say I love you. They slow down. They forgive. They get around to doing those things they have put off.

They stop doing those things that really aren’t that important. All of a sudden, it’s not that important to have a perfect house. After they know they are going to die, people often live and die well. If that’s the case, let me make an announcement this morning . . . breaking news . . . LIFE IS TERMINAL. YOU HAVE A LIMITED TIME TO LIVE. It’s a hard truth but maybe it’s a truth that awakens us to life.

I love something Marian Wright Edelman said once, “Do not die before you die. See and listen. Bask in the countless miracles and beauty all around you. Stay awake and alert to the incredible currents of life everywhere. Give yourself to love.”

Henry David Thoreau said he wished to learn what life had to teach now, “And not, when I come to die, discover that I had not really lived.”

Wendell Berry said, “The question before me, now that I am old, is not how to be dead, which I know from enough practice, but how to be alive  . . . really alive.”

“Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus walks out, grave clothes and all, blinking in the bright, midday sun. His friends and neighbors took off all that kept him bound and he came back to the life he knew, yet I very much doubt he was the same or that life was the same.

What is the story a sign of – it’s a sign that this life is so very precious precisely because it is limited.

Lazarus grew old and died again, but my guess is that he lived every single day of the rest of his life with tears of gratitude in his eyes.

“Live” is the word here. Live now. Live today and every day. Open your eyes and mind and heart and soul to the stunning fact of your own life. The stunning gift of your own life.

Don’t put things off. Tell those that you love that you love them. Forgive. Forgive yourself.

Emily from Thornton Wilder’s Our Town asks, “Does anyone ever realize the gift of life while they are living it?” The response, “No. Sometimes poets and saints.”

My favorite poet, Mary Oliver wrote, “Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Bill Moyers, as part of s series on living and dying well, says there are simple questions we might ask ourselves as a way of unbinding ourselves that we might experience LIFE BEFORE DEATH. Right now may not be the best way for you to consider more deeply these questions, so I’ve made copies of them for you to take home if you like – you can pick one up at the Welcome Center. Let me share the questions quickly. Pay attention and see if any speak deeply to you. Lazarus had his friends and neighbors unbind him from his grave clothes. You might wish to share these questions with a trusted friend and you can unbind one another.

*       Who am I?

*       How have I used my gift of human life?

*       What do I need to “clear up” or “let go of” in order to be more peaceful, in order to live?

*       What gives my life meaning?

*       For what am I grateful?

*       When do I feel most alive?

*       What have I learned about Truth? Vulnerability? Intimacy? Love?

*       What have I learned of the human condition and how great is my compassion?

*       How do I handle suffering, my own or others?

*       What will give me strength as I die? What is my relationship with that which will give me strength?

*       If I remembered that my breaths were numbered, what would be my relationship to this breath RIGHT NOW?

What’s this story a sign of: maybe resurrection happens before we die as we wake up to the gift and sheer miracle of our lives and of each day, each moment.

What is this story a sign of: it’s a sign to take off your grave clothes, leave behind everything that binds you, everything that keeps you from living, that keeps you from loving fully, everything that keeps you from being everything God created you to be.

Walk into the sunshine and live every single day of your life fully, with tears of gratitude in your eyes for the sheer miracle of your life.

We came from God’s heart. We return to God’s heart. Every second in between is a holy, awesome, mysterious gift to be opened, treasured, enjoyed and shared!

May it be so!

Mary Oliver, the poet, wrote a poem called HEAVY.

“That time

I thought I could not

Go any closer to grief

Without dying.

I went closer

And I did not die.

Surely God

Has His hand on this,

as well as friends.

Still, I was bent,

And my laughter

As the poets said

Was nowhere to be found.

Then said my friend Daniel

(brave even among Lions),

“It’s not the weight you carry

It’s not the weight –

but how you carry it-

books, bricks, grief –

it’s all in the way

you embrace it, balance it, carry it.

When you cannot and would not,

Put it down

So I went practicing.

Have you noticed?

Have you heard the laughter

That comes, now and again,

Out of my startled mouth?

How I linger to admire, admire, admire

The things of this world

That are kind, and maybe also troubled –

Roses in the wind,

The sea geese on the steep waves,

A love to which there is no reply.” 

Like the title of that poem, no doubt life can be heavy at times. Sometimes the weight can seem unbearable. Mary Oliver reminds us, “It’s not the weight you carry but how you carry it – it’s all in the way you embrace it, balance it, carry it.”

Family therapist Virginia Satir put it a different way, “Life isn’t necessarily fair or the way you want it to be or expect it to be. Life just is. When is the last day that went exactly as you planned or expected? If you have had one of those perfect days, get out of bed because life is constantly full of unexpected twists, turns and surprises…some welcome, many not welcome at all. Life isn’t fair. Life just is. It is the way we choose to respond to life that determines our experience of life.”

I remember when one of my sons was 10 years old. Skateboarding was the “in” thing. There was a Tony Hawk skateboard that every one had to have. My son already had a reasonably good skateboard and we weren’t about to buy a new one just because every one else had one. I vividly remember my son shouting, “That’s not fair.” I calmly said “Probably not. But let me let you in on a little secret. The sooner you discover and accept that life isn’t fair the happier you will be.” He looked at me like I had two heads.

Suffering in life is inevitable. Misery, on the other hand, is often a choice. It’s not the weight you carry but how you carry it.

A few weeks ago I preached a sermon titled FIVE HARD SPIRITUAL TRUTHS THAT LEAD TO PEACE AND FREEEDOM. I received more feedback and reaction from that one sermon than I have from many others with many of you asking me to explore these truths a little deeper. SO, over the next month we’ll wrestle with one truth at a time and see if it might change the way we carry life’s weight.

We live in a world of instant gratification, fast food and quick fixes. We live in a world that prefers the easy path, compromise, shortcuts. Ancient spiritual wisdom says there are no shortcuts. There is no easy path. Jesus said, “Those who want to find their lives must be willing to lose their lives.” There’s nothing easy about that.

These hard truths are the exact opposite to the so-called wisdom of our consumer society. It’s interesting these hard truths have been used by spiritual teachers as part of initiation rites from adolescence into adulthood and maturity.

The Apostle Paul said in 1^st Corinthians 13, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I transitioned into maturity I put all that childish thinking behind me.”

One could argue we live in a society perpetually stuck in an adolescent phase.

I think of the disciples on the road with Jesus asking adolescent questions like – “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

Jesus was constantly turning their world upside down, challenging their adolescent thinking and encouraging them into a more mature faith.

What might childish or adolescent thinking look like?

*       Insisting life should be fair. Life should be the way you want it to be and fighting and throwing a fit when it isn’t.

*       Denying and refusing to accept your own mortality.

*       Being controlling and living in the illusion that you are in control.

*       Placing yourself at the center of all things. 

All of the above responses to life represent a certain way of carrying life’s heaviness. It is not the weight but how you carry it. The hard spiritual truths invite a more mature faith, and a greater sense of peace and freedom in carrying life’s heaviness.

What are the hard truths that represent a more mature faith?

*       Life is hard.

*       Life is terminal. You are going to die.

*       You are not in control.

*       Life is not about you.

Let’s take a look at today’s hard truth – LIFE IS HARD.

Whoever promised life would be easy or fair. What does it say in the Book of Ecclesiastes: “There is a time to laugh and a time to weep.” Our expectations that somehow life should be fair and easy lead to disappointment.

If you ask parents what they want most for their children, most say, “All I want for my children is for them to be happy.” I think the mistake we make is not teaching our children how to be unhappy…how to be unhappy with grace, courage, faith, resilience.

Life is heavy at times. There is sadness, loss, grief, tragedy, injustice…Life can be very heavy. Rather than trying to shield our children from the heaviness of life – what about cultivating a faith that helps our children carry the heaviness of life with grace and courage.

Think of marriage. The mistake I so often see are people entering marriage thinking it is going to be a piece of cake. We love each other. Love will be enough. And they often have very unrealistic expectations of what marriage and love is all about shaped by our Hollywood culture.

The hard and honest truth is that marriage is hard work. Friendships are hard work. Love is hard work. Being in community is hard work. It takes honesty, unselfishness, courage, forgiveness, time, sacrifice, vulnerability.

The paradox is that accepting that life is hard makes life infinitely easier – it may not change the weight of life but changes the way you carry it. Suffering is inevitable, misery, on the other hand, is usually a choice. And there are other choices. Our reading from the Psalm today reveals a different way of carrying life’s heaviness.

Thomas Keating said, “I don’t think it’s a n oversimplification to say that people basically live either in an attitude of gratitude or an overall attitude of resentment. We are either getting better or we are getting bitter.

Everything that is given, the fact that you are breathing today, is pure gift. None of us have earned it, none of us have a right to it. All we can do is kneel and kiss some ground – somewhere, anywhere, everywhere…not only when life is good but especially when life is hard.”

The people of Israel knew full well the experience of suffering and pain. Their lives were far from perfect. Their nation was far from peaceful. Their national security was threatened all the time by their neighbors. They were exiled from their homeland living as refugees.

The gathered community sang songs of praise reminding them no matter what their circumstances, God was their shepherd in all of life…reminding them even in the face of the worst adversity, their faith was not to be shaken, for they belonged to God.

In fact, in times of adversity, their faith grew stronger because they paid closer attention to God’s presence with them. They sang songs of praise not because life was always easy good but because God was always good and could be trusted.

As I read Psalm 100, imagine a community of suffering people bearing the heaviness of life choosing to carry that heaviness by singing songs of praise.

[PSALM 100]

We are invited today to give thanks not because life is perfect or easy but because God is good. We are called to give thanks because life is sacred and we are sacred, every breath is sacred, a gift we have not earned . . . pure gift. We give thanks because we either adopt an attitude of gratitude or an attitude of resentment.

We give thanks because we know deep down in our hearts and souls, we belong to God and NOTHING can separate us from God’s love.

There is no illness strong enough, no divorce bitter enough, no divisions deep enough, no depression dark enough, no struggle hard enough to shake the foundations of who we are as God’s beloved. Easter reminded us God’s love will surround us and keep us every day of our lives right up to the last one and beyond. God’s love shines in every darkness, every shadow – and helps us carry every weight…even the ones that seem unbearable.

Anne Lamott tells the story of taking her son when he was just 2 years old to Lake Tahoe, where they stayed in a condominium by the lake. There are a lot of gambling establishments, so all the rooms come with light-blocking blinds so you can gamble all night and sleep all day.

One day Anne put her baby to sleep in his Pack ‘n Play in a totally darkened bedroom and went to work writing in the next room. A few moments later she heard her baby knocking on the door from the inside. She got up to put him back to bed and then – every parent’s nightmare – found the door locked.

Somehow he had managed to push the lock button on the doorknob. He was calling, “Mommy, mommy,” and she was saying, “Just jiggle the doorknob, honey, push the button again.”

Of course, he couldn’t even see the doorknob in the darkened room. When it became clear to him that his mother couldn’t open the door, panic set in. She could hear him sobbing. His mother did everything she could think of: trying the door, calling the rental agency, the manager, leaving frantic messages on answering machines, running back to comfort her son there in the dark, locked room, terrified.

Finally, she did the only thing she could think of which was to lie down and slide her fingers under the door where there were a few centimeters of space.

She told him over and over to do the same; to bend over and find her fingers.

And somehow he did and he quieted down.

They stayed like that for what seemed like a long time, until help came, him holding her fingers in the dark, feeling her presence, her care, her love . . . the room was still dark. The door was still locked but the touch of those fingers made all the difference.

Sometimes life is hard and we find ourselves like that terrified two year-old in the dark, and God is always like that mother, present in the darkness, reminding us there is nothing to fear, we belong to God and nothing can change that.

We are invited to bring the weight we carry to this table and receive the gift of bread and cup reminding us of a love that meets us in the very heaviness of our lives changing the way we carry the weight…remember, it is not the weight you carry but how you carry it.

A man was driving by a Lutheran church where he saw someone outside the church selling newborn puppies with a sign that said, “LUTHERAN PUPPIES FOR SALE.”

The next day he was driving by the Presbyterian Church and saw the same man with the same puppies. This time the sign said, “PRESBYTERIAN PUPPIES FOR SALE.”

He had to stop and find out why the puppies started as Lutherans and are now Presbyterian. The man selling those newborn puppies said, “The puppies eyes finally opened and they saw the light.”

Today we are celebrating Earth Day. We are urged to open our eyes and see the earth in a whole new light, not as a commodity to be used and consumed but as a sacred community we share with all creation and that we have been entrusted to care for.

The question I want to challenge you with this morning: How do you view the earth and all of creation? Do you see yourself separate from the earth? Do you see yourself over or above the earth? Or, do you see yourself within creation, a part of creation? What has informed the paradigm, or lens through which you now see the earth? How does our Christian faith teach us to see the earth? The lens through which you see the earth determines your behavior towards the earth.

In 1990, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church USA passed a resolution stating the whole of creation is suffering and groaning and a central concern for the church is the “Call to Restore the Creation.” Recently Presbyterian churches have been encouraged to become certified Earth Care congregations doing an environmental audit and pledge to place earth care as a central mission of the church. There are 11,000 Presbyterian churches across the country. Thanks to the leadership of our Green Team, we are one of only 75 congregations in this country certified as an Earth Care congregation. That doesn’t mean we have arrived. It means we are just beginning.

These words attributed to Chief Seattle in 1851 in response to a proposed land treaty offer us a lens to look through to see the earth.

“The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky, the land? The idea is strange to us. The earth does not belong to us. We belong to the earth. If we do not won the freshness of the air or the sparkle of the water, then how can you buy them? Every part of this Earth is sacred to my people; every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, and every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.

We know the sap that courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth, and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle: these are our brothers. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected. One thing we know: our God is your God. The earth is precious to God and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.

This way of seeing the earth would profoundly influence the way in which you walk upon the earth. Whatever befalls the earth, befalls the sons and daughters of the earth.”

This is a very different way of seeing and walking upon the earth than the way the majority of people see and walk upon the earth.

Martin Buber, the Jewish philosopher, says there are two ways of living in relationship to the world and all of creation: I – IT where the “other” is an object to be used for our benefit. It is certainly clear how we often treat other people in terms of how they can best serve our needs and make us happy. It is also clear how we can treat the earth in a consumerist and greedy way where our main concern is our own convenience and happiness.

Contemplate this: if everyone in the world were to have a typical U.S. lifestyle, we would need four planet earths to meet our usage. While we in the United States make up only 5% of the earth’s population, we consume 30% of the earth’s resources. The Bible has a word for that – it’s called GREED. In this paradigm the earth is clearly an IT – an object – to be used for our benefit regardless of the consequences.

A recent intergovernmental panel of leading scientists reported the debate needs to end – climate change is the real deal and patterns of human behavior may not be the main cause but are a primary cause.

I love polar bears. Polar bears are drowning at alarming rates as they try to find food. The ice flows they rely on to help them get their food are fewer and further between, so exhaustion sets in before ice or food can be found and they drown. Some fear polar bears are nearing extinction.

Scientist report that 84% of Antarctic glaciers have substantially retreated. The Sjogren Glacier has retreated by a record nine miles since 1993, surpassing anything ever seen or expected.

Sheila Watt-Cloutier, a Canadian Inuit Eskimo, traveled to Washington DC recently, hoping to get the attention of the U.S. government with a simple and clear message: climate change is killing her people. They rely on frozen ground and ice to get to the animals during hunting season. The ice has been unusually and dangerously thin. More of her people have died this past year than ever before as a result of the thin ice, thin ice that is the result of climate change.

Chief Seattle said, “We are all connected like the blood which unites one family.” But it is so easy to choose to be blind to this profound, divine connection continuing the I – IT pattern of relating to the world concerned mostly about my needs and what makes me happy – not seeing how the everyday decisions I make can place God’s creatures and God’s children on thin ice.

Buber says there is another way of relating besides I – IT and that is I – THOU where we see and treat the “other” as sacred and holy. What a difference it makes in our relationships when we see and treat others as children of God.

I often say the most important question we can ask is, “Do others feel important, valued in our presence?”

What would change if we approached our relationship with the earth in the same way? Instead of an “IT,” an “object” to be used for our purposes and pleasure, what if the earth was a sacred THOU, holy, to be revered and we ask ourselves, “Does the earth feel valued and honored by my presence? Are my footsteps on the earth heavy or light?”

Chief Seattle said, “The earth doesn’t belong to us, we belong to the earth.”

Actually the Psalmist said the same thing long before he did. Psalm 24, “The earth is the Lord’s and ALL that is in it.” It isn’t ours. We don’t own the place. It doesn’t belong to us. We are guests – temporary guests, at that.

I love today’s Psalm 148. We are far from alone in praising God. Angels and hosts, sun and moon, shining stars, ocean depths, mountains, plants, all animals of every kind . . . including humans . . . all praising God the Creator of Creation.

David Rhoads, from the Lutheran School of Theology, says this Psalm reveals a mistake we commonly make in reading about creation in the Bible. He says we read through a very human-centered lens as if God is concerned only with us and God simply designed the rest of creation for our personal use.

But God called all creation good before even creating humans. God saw all that God had made and saw that it was “Tov Ma-Ov” – a Hebrew word we have feebly translated as very good. A more accurate translation is to say God looked upon creation and saw that it was “Wow!” or, better yet, no words were said because God was speechless, overcome by the sacredness of creation and saw the whole of creation as something to be loved, revered, cared for and celebrated.

And what’s even more amazing is that God entrusted us with the job of expressing that love and awe and reverence and care.

David Rhoads says we have mistakenly concluded and behave as if we humans were the pinnacle of creation. If you read the creation story, it is the Sabbath, not humans, that is the pinnacle of creation. Psalm 148 reminds us we are among the creatures, within creation, not against, above or over all creation.

Sabbath is when we stop what we are doing and take the time to recognize who we are within creation . . . where we recognize our place . . . where we recognize the earth does not belong to us, we belong to the One who created the earth. The earth is not here to serve us. We are here to serve God by serving the earth – Our first and holiest calling is to care for the earth. Sabbath is the time we open our eyes and see not in relation of I – IT but I – THOU.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote,

“Earth is crammed with heaven.

And every common bush afire with God:

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.”

But only he or she who sees takes off their shoes.

God said to Moses from the bush afire with God, “Take off your shoes for the ground you are standing on is Holy Ground.” God’s Holy Earth is what the poet Wendell Berry calls it.

My argument today for a different way of seeing the earth is not a political one. But my argument today is a biblical, theological and spiritual one that recognizes the fundamental posture of the spiritual life is humility.

Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. “ (Matthew 5.5) Blessed are the meek? This is certainly not the way the world works where might is right, where money rules, and aggression and being first are rewarded.

But this Jesus guy always turns things upside down. One translation says “Blessed are the humble-hearted for they shall inherit the earth.”

It’s interesting that the Hebrew word for humanity (da Adam) and the word for ground (adama) are connected. Human beings are creatures of the earth. The origin and destiny of humankind is closely connected to the origin and destiny of the earth. The English word human shares the root of the Latin word humus which means soil . . . dirt. Both humanity and humus share the same root as humility. Humanity . . . humus . . . soil . . . humility . . . all connected.

Do you remember the rabbi who carries in his pocket a card? On one side of the card it says, “I am made out of the same stuff as the stars.” On the other side of the card it says, “I am but dust.” Humility helps us see our place in creation, not over, above or against, but within a part of. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family.

Blessed are the meek, the humble – for they shall inherit the earth.

This implies the earth being inherited is worth something, like inheriting the treasured family homestead.

All the escapist, Left Behind theologies that make it seem like we should be thrilled to be “raptured” out of this world miss the whole point of incarnation.

God lived and walked among us here on Earth, because here is where we belong, here is our home. Earth is a sacred give not just to us but to all. The humble one’s will set aside their agenda to surrender to God’s agenda – Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done – on earth – this earth – this holy earth – as it is in heaven.

The humble ones are the ones who will inherit the earth because they will be the best caretakers for its. Humility is required for proper stewardship. The humble ones recognize the earth doesn’t belong to us – we belong to God who created this Holy Earth. The humble ones see the earth is crammed with heaven . . . each common bush is afire with God. The humble ones take off their shoes and walk lightly.

Sister Joan Chittister writes, “Humility is the foundation of our relationship with God, our connectedness to others, our acceptance of ourselves, humility influences our ways of using the goods of the earth and even our way of walking through the world, without arrogance, without domination, without scorn, without putdowns, without self-centeredness, without greed. The more we know ourselves in relationship to God, the gentler we will be with ourselves, with others and the gentler we will walk on this holy earth.”

How do you see and walk upon the earth? The lens through which you see the earth determines your behavior toward the earth. To follow Jesus is to see with the eyes of Jesus and walk humble, before your God, and walk gently upon this holy ground.

The Sunday School teacher asked her class if anyone could explain what Easter is. A little boy waves his hand wanting to be called on by the teacher. The teacher says, “Ok, Johnny, what is Easter?” Johnny begins, “Easter is when the whole family gathers around a table with a turkey to give thanks.”

“Oh, Johnny, not quite. That’s Thanksgiving. Does anyone know what Easter is?”

A little girl raises her hand, “Easter is when the family gathers around a tree to sing carols and put decorations on the tree and they all give presents.”

“Closer but that’s not quite the answer. Would anyone else like to venture a guess?”

Another little girl knew the answer. “It is the time after Jesus died when the stone at his grave was rolled back, and Jesus started to go up to heaven and then he looked back down, he saw his shadow and he went back in the tomb for six more weeks.”        

In the Eastern Orthodox tradition, they celebrate Easter by telling jokes. How awesome would that be! They tell jokes as a way of celebrating God laughing in the face of darkness and death in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is their way of saying the tears of Good Friday do not have the last word. They become the tears of joy we celebrate Easter Sunday.

Thomas Merton wrote, “Suddenly there comes a point when your faith becomes laughable. Then you decide that, nevertheless, you still have faith.” Easter is one of those days when our faith becomes laughable.

It is right there in the Easter story we just read. The women in profound sadness had gone to the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus with spices, not expecting anything out of the ordinary, arriving only to find the tomb empty. Scared and flustered, they run to the disciples to tell them what their eyes have seen, and you can just imagine the men’s reaction to this story.

The Bible says they didn’t believe the women – that it seemed to be an idle tale, nonsense. Women in this culture were marginalized – discounted. It’s interesting those who wouldn’t be believed anyway were the ones entrusted with the mystery of this story. We can fill in the blank. We can imagine them dismissing and laughing at the women, “Hysterical women . . . they’re not even disciples . . . what do they know.”

And who can blame them, the disciples? Just when they allowed themselves to have hope in Jesus that life can be different . . . that a new world is possible, they saw those hopes sealed away in the darkness of a tomb. Their dreams shattered. The end of the road. It’s easier to accept reality as it is, to assume things can’t change, to resign yourself to the facts, and we call that being realistic.

But, as Thomas Merton says, there comes a point when our faith becomes laughable. Then we decide that, nevertheless, we still have faith.

Easter is one of those days when our faith is laughable. Yet, more people come to church on Easter than any other day of the year to shout “Christ is Risen” and celebrate this most amazing, yet impossible story that defies all reason and logic and common sense. A story that, in many ways, is laughable. Yet, I suspect churches are packed this Easter not IN SPITE OF the fact is it laughable but precisely because of it.

I suspect, whether we admit it or not, we are looking for hope. We all need to believe there is a reality greater than this reality. We need to believe beyond this life there is MORE life. We need to believe there is a light greater than the all too familiar darkness . . . there is a love stronger than any reality we are facing. We need to believe that where we have been does not determine where it is we will now go –

How you see the future determines the spirit in which you life today. If all you see is more of the same, you are one step from despair and life becomes a matter of survival. Setting one foot in front of the other. It is laughable to think life can be any different. That the world can be any different – that you can change. If you can see a future where love has already won the day, you live with hope and live in the spirit of that love, even though it might seem laughable at the time.

Margaret Farley from Yale Divinity School said this about the meaning of the resurrection: “Whatever else the Christian faith has stood for over the centuries, it has always maintained that today does not determine tomorrow. Suffering and death do not have the final word – God does. And against the very worst that life can do is the best that God can do. Love will prevail.”

The story is told about a wonderful discovery in the German city of Dresden after it was completely devastated by the bombing of World War II. The discovery was a musical score found in the ruins that was in perfect condition even though everything around it was destroyed by fire and devastation. It was the score to Albinoni’s “Adagio for Strings and Orchestra in B Minor.”

In the midst of this devastation of war, the very worst that we can do to each other, there survived something of the most beautiful that we create for each other . . . there survived a symbol of the spirit that could not be defeated.

During the siege in Sarajevo during the Third Balkans War in the 1990’s, the city was shelled month after month, every single night. On one of those nights, a group of people standing in line in front of a bakery were waiting to buy bread. A mortar shell fell right in the middle of them. Twenty-two people were killed . . . innocent people, men, women, children . . . hungry people just wanting to buy bread.

A few days later, at the same spot, in front of the burned out bakery, a man named Vedran Smailovic placed a chair, and began to play his cello. An absolutely absurd scene. For 22 days he play his cello, one day in memory for each one of the people who had been killed at that spot.

Now the gesture itself was inspiring, playing music in the spot where only the sound of mortar shells and weeping could be heard. But what gave it deeper significance is the music he played each day was “Adagio for Strings and Orchestra in B Minor.”

This man sitting in the midst of devastation and despair, risking his life, playing his cello is laughable. But, as Merton says, there comes a time when your faith becomes laughable but, nevertheless, you still have faith. Who wouldn’t agree that this world could use a little more of that kind of laughable faith?

Christmas is not Christmas for me unless we sing Silent Night. Easter is not Easter without the tradition of quoting my favorite Easter book from my favorite theologian . . . Dr. Seuss’ On Beyond Zebra.

Here’s how it begins:

Said Conrad Cornelius O’Donnell O’Dell

My very young friend who was learning to spell,

The A is for Ape, the B is for Bear

The C is for Camel, the H is for Hare.

On to Z is for Zebra, I know them all well,

Said Conrad Cornelius O’Donnell O’Dell.

From beginning to end, from the start to the close

For Z is as far as the alphabet goes.

Then he almost fell flat on his face on the floor

When I took up the chalk and drew one letter more.

A letter he never dreamed of before!

In the places I go, and the things that I see,

I could never survive if I stopped with Z.

So on beyond Zebra – it is high time you were shown

That maybe you really don’t know ALL there is to be known.

The promise of Easter . . . that maybe, just maybe, we don’t know ALL there is to be known. What we thought was the end proved to be just the beginning. When all seemed lost, hopeless, finished, God was picking up the chalk drawing one letter more . . . a letter we never dreamed of before!

Those words we proclaim today “Christ is Risen” are On Beyond Zebra words because they are beyond what we can conceive or imagine in our A to Z frame of reference. They’re laughable. What we’re invited to trust on THIS day is the mystery of a reality beyond this reality – the mystery of a love stronger than even death itself.

What’s curiously missing from the Easter story as told by Luke is any note of celebration. There’s no joyful shouting, no singing and dancing, no Hallelujah Chorus. Instead, thanks be to God, there’s something you and I can relate to: surprise, fear, confusion, skepticism, doubt.

I love this sense that human beings, like you and me, are trying to understand what they just experienced . . . trying to appropriate something that just doesn’t square with what they know about life and death . . . trying to comprehend a Beyond Zebra moment when everyone knows Z is as far as the alphabet goes.

I suspect we are here today, at least in part, because deep down we hope against hope that maybe we really don’t know ALL there is to be known.

We want to believe as laughable as it may seem, that God can pick up the chalk and draw one letter more – a letter we never dreamed of before – for ourselves and for our world. We want to believe beyond the life we know is MORE life.

As many of you know, my father died two years ago from Alzheimer’s disease. I traveled to northern Wisconsin to spend time with him before he died. I had no sense whatsoever that my dad knew who I was or knew my name.

Here was this proud Finn – this strong, independent, hardworking, stubborn, dignified man left slouched in a wheel chair, drool dripping down his chin, with distant and vacant eyes, trapped in a place that no one can get to . . . seemingly all alone.

It was more than I could take. I wanted to scream out to God, “Don’t you care? Are you even there?” The darkness was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. My mind was filled with so many questions for which there was no answer. My heart was breaking. I wheeled my Dad to a window at the end of the hallway. The nursing home was adjacent to a nearby woods. I kneeled down beside him as he stared vacantly out the window. I put my arm around him as we both just stared at the trees in total silence.

As the tears were streaming down my face, I was holding my Dad, desperately wanting him to know he wasn’t alone – that he would be okay.

Just then a deer appeared from the woods nearby . . . slowly walked toward the window . . . stopped about halfway . . . turned his head and with the most gentle eyes I have ever seen, just looked at us both.

I’m not sure why or how but I just knew at that moment, not in my head, but in my heart, that we weren’t alone. I knew we were both held by a love that will never let us go – and I need not be afraid. I knew the cruelty of Alzheimer’s would not have the last word. There was a light stronger than the darkness my Dad was trapped in.

My questions weren’t answered . . . but my unspeakable grief and pain all of a sudden seemed more bearable.

There was this moment of Grace. There was this moment beyond the rational confines of our A to Z world where I was grasped by a love stronger than the grip dead had on us. And I wasn’t afraid any longer for me or my Dad.

And just when I though the well of my own strength had run dry, I found the strength I needed to be present and to love my Dad in the way he deserved to be loved.

A week later, just as my Dad held me at the start of my life, I was given the priceless gift of holding my father as he transitioned from this life to MORE life.

He struggled. Every now and then he would tighten up and let out a little scream. It’s hard to let go if all you know is A to Z. I would caress his forehead and tell him, “It was going to be okay. I would tell him he was loved with a love that will never let him go.” He would visibly relax and let go a little.

As he took his last breath, I knew deep in my heart that he was ok, that God can be trusted, that a new life, a new adventure was waiting for him.

After the funeral home came and cared for his body, I made my way to the parking lot to find my car and go back to my mother’s house. It was about 4:00 a.m. I sat there in the car in the parking lot and sobbed.

Just then, what looked like that very same deer, emerged from the trees. It walked slowly toward my car and stopped about 10 feet away. And this deer stared at me with those gentle eyes.

I knew right then that across even the darkest shadows of life, there shines a light that will never fail . . . there is a love stronger than even death itself, and nothing, in life or death, can ever separate us from that love.

Of course, I hesitate telling you this story, because, honestly, in our world that believes in A to Z and is adamant that Z is as far as the alphabet goes, this story is laughable.

But, as Merton says, there comes a point when our faith becomes laughable. Then we decide that, nevertheless, we still have faith . . . faith in a God who picks up the chalk and draws one letter more . . . a letter we never dreamed of before.

So On Beyond Zebra – its high time we were shown – that maybe, just maybe, we don’t know ALL there is to be known.

The world sure could use a few more people with a faith that is laughable. The kind of faith that dares to believe that God, even now is picking up the chalk and drawing one letter more – a letter never even dreamed of before.

1. HARD TRUTH: LIFE IS HARD

Whoever promised that life would be easy or fair? YET, that is what we expect and those expectations inevitably lead to disappointment. Life isn’t fair. Life is rarely the way we think it should be. Life just is. It is the way we respond to life that makes all the difference. In response to life’s challenges, we either get bitter or better.

2. HARD TRUTH: YOU ARE GOING TO DIE

We live in a culture that does everything possible to try to deny or avoid this truth. Yet, when we embrace this HARD TRUTH, we realize that this moment, right now, this very breath, is a gift and what matters most. No one is guaranteed tomorrow. The only power we have is the power of right now.

3. HARD TRUTH: YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL

This is a tough one to accept for most people. We try to alleviate our fear and anxiety by trying to exercise control. The paradox is that the harder we try to control the more anxious we become.

The reality is that the only thing we have any control over is our choices. We experience so much stress in life because we focus on the behavior of others. We have no control over other people. We can only control how we choose to respond.

Remember the prayer grant me the serenity to accept what I can’t change, change what I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Many would save themselves thousands of dollars in therapy and other ways they try to deal with their anxiety by doing the best they can to live this simple prayer every day.

4. HARD TRUTH: YOUR LIFE IS NOT ABOUT YOU

It is a bitter pill for many to swallow that the world does not revolve around them. The world does not exist to serve their needs, moods, and preferences. Humility may be the most important quality to experience peace in life. Your life is not about you. You are about life. Rock singer, Bono, said his life turned around when he stopped asking God to bless him, to bless his life, to bless his family, to bless his music and, instead, he starting to ask how he might be part of blessing the world. Your life is not about you. You are about life.

George Bernard Shaw said, “The true joy in life is being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one.”

These may be HARD TRUTHS because, in many ways, they are countercultural but they are the key bricks that will pave the way to greater peace and freedom in life.

Family values are talked about in a way that seeks to narrow the definition rather than broaden the definition – narrow the circle rather than widen the circle.

It would appear Jesus had a different take on Family Values in today’s Bible reading. Jesus is in his home town of Galilee healing, teaching, creating quite a stir and controversy by the folks he keeps company with. There are some who fear he’s gone off the deep end. Many thought he had become unstable. His mother and brothers show up. We don’t know if they are embarrassed by his behavior, ashamed or maybe they sense the danger he might be in and want to protect him.

Let’s take a look at our Bible reading for today: [Mark 3.31-35]

I suspect Jesus wasn’t being disrespectful of his family as he was widening the circle of what family represents…redefining the word family to those who were there.

His words would be startling in any culture but in the Hebrew culture where family is sacred, they were shocking words.

I don’t think Jesus was severing ties with his family. In the final hours of his life while he hung in agony from the cross, his heart was breaking for his mother and he made provisions for her.

In the Book of Acts, we learn, James the brother of Jesus, was a leader in the early church and became a martyr for the sake of his brother. This would suggest his relationship with his family of origin remained strong.

I don’t think Jesus was denying his relationship with his family of origin as he was challenging those who were present to broaden their understanding of family, to expand their circle of love.

Jesus said, “Whoever does God’s will is my brother, sister, mother.” I think of those words from 2^nd Corinthians 5 where it tells us clearly what God’s intention was in Jesus. It says, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to God’s self.”

This suggests when the Spirit of Christ is present people are included – not excluded, joined – not divided, welcomed – not left out, one – not separate, loved – not judged, inside – not outside, belonging – not ostracized, brother, sister, mother – not enemy or stranger or other.

Let’s pray – Just as Jesus startled and challenged the people around him with his all-encompassing and unconditional love, startle and challenge us today with that same love. Amen.

These past few weeks of Lent I have been talking about how important being stretched and being uncomfortable is to our spiritual journeys.

I have defined this journey of Lent preparing for Easter as being willing to die so that something new might rise…dying to our false self, dying to our comfort and security, dying to our prejudice and judgment, dying to our fears, so that our true self, God’s life within us might rise up unencumbered.

Today, I encourage you to think about your circle of love. If the movement of God’s Spirit is a movement that is always reconciling, joining, including, welcoming, building bridges, opening doors, where are you resisting the movement of that Spirit?

It is our relationships with those who are currently outside our circle of love that are the rich soil from which we grow hearts capable of holding God’s Grace.

Where are the doors of your heart closed and where might the Spirit be gently pushing them open?

So in the Spirit of Jesus, something different (I am trying to stretch myself – step out of my comfort zone in my preaching during Lent) today I want to share a parable:

There once was a woman who had a big, rambling house : a house with many rooms and a porch swing and a spacious front lawn. She was a generous woman, so day in and day out, she hosted guests in her home.

Senators and celebrated writers stopped by in their travels, and so did old friends and acquaintances just passing through.

The woman loved to sit and hear their stories at her big dinner table that always seemed to have just enough room for everyone. Her reputation for hospitality grew, so that people down on their luck showed up on her lawn asking to camp out, and men who had not bathed in many weeks were taken in and washed and fed. It became known that this was a place to go if you had no where else to go. People began to trust that this woman would accept and welcome those who felt like they didn’t belong anywhere else.

People from all corners and all walks of life traipsed in and out so the front door was hardly ever closed, and the woman was delighted that she could host so many friends. To her, they were family.

One autumn day the woman was called away on a journey. She asked some of her most trusted friends to housesit for her while she was away, and she departed.

A few days went by with guests traipsing in and out. Then one of the friends said, “The draft from that open door is terrible, I’m going to shut it.”

Another said, “Have you noticed that all these guests have been dragging dirt in here through the front hall?”

Another said, “Some of them drag in more than dirt. Did you smell that boy who came in yesterday?”

Another said loyally, “The woman of the house is our friend. We should honor her by tidying things up around here.”

They got to work. One of them steam-cleaned the carpets. One dusted the furniture. One cleaned the chandeliers.

That all seemed good. But just then a guest came through the front door, leaving it wide open, and in swept some fallen leaves, and the guest accidently trampled on them. The friends were angry.

“Look what you’re doing to this house! The lady of the house should not be treated like this! Get out!” They yelled.

They shooed the guest out onto the porch, slammed the door, and turned the lock.

From then on, the friends took turns standing guard at the door. They made people show identification before they entered the house.

Guests were asked to sign agreements not to make any mess or be disruptive.

People who smelled funny were kept out. People whose manners weren’t up to snuff were sent packing. People who spoke too loudly or in languages they couldn’t understand were excluded.

Those who showed up without shoes were left outside. Those whose opinions were contrary or uncomfortable were snubbed.

Those who were just plain different were discouraged from entereing.

Thankfully, the flood of guests turned to a trickle, and the friends congratulated themselves that they were keeping the woman’s house clean and in good order. Every one breathed a sigh of relief and all were comfortable again.

And then one spring day the woman returned, bearing extravagant gifts for her trusted friends.

She reached the door, her arms full of parcels. She was puzzled that the door was closed, but finding a free hand, turned the handle, only to find the door locked.

She rang the doorbell. A face appeared at the window.

“You’re home!” the friend mouthed through the glass.

“Why is the door locked?” she shouted back. The front door opened two inches. Another friend’s face appeared and this one said, ‘You’ll be surprised. Your house is so clean you’ll hardly recognize it.”

The woman said, “Where are all my guests?”

“Oh,” the friend said, “They were messy and disruptive and caused so much trouble. We’ve sent them away.”

‘Sent them away?” the woman asked. “But they were my guests! Who were you to send them away? And besides, didn’t you remember that YOU are ALSO my guests? Maybe I should send YOU away! This is my house, not yours.”

“Did you hear that?” one friend whispered to another. “She’s clearly unstable. She doesn’t know what’s best for her. If we let her have her way, she will undo all the good we’ve done.”

And with that, they shut the door and locked it, leaving the woman and all her gifts outside.

Henri Nouwen said the invitation of Christ is to leave the house of fear that we might dwell in the house of love. The house of fear separates and divides. The house of love, Jesus reminds us, is a place of power and healing and reconciliation…the doors are always open in the house of love.

In the spirit of being uncomfortable, I invite us to sit in silence for a minute, and think about where the doors are closed in our lives…where might the Spirit be nudging them open. Remember, it is precisely those relationships outside our circle of love that are the rich soil to grow hearts capable holding God’s grace. Who might you be intentional in welcoming into your circle of love?

Rev. David Bambaugh wrote, “Beneath all our diversity, behind all our differences, beyond all our judgments and prejudice, beside our illusion of separateness, there is a unity which makes us one and binds us forever together in spite of time and death and the space between the stars. If you can be still enough, you might sense God’s Spirit drawing all people into the heart of love.

So, let’s stop and be still for a minute. In the stillness of this moment, before the release of the next breath, in the pause between heart beats, may we sense God’s presence, may we feel the Spirit moving among us and within us, inviting us to walk away from the house of fear and walk through the open doors of the house of love.

[one minute silence…chime]

Now, the ending to the parable:

The woman sat on her porch swing swinging gently and singing softly to herself, her gifts for her friends strewn about. Inside, the friends whispered.

‘She’s still out there, isn’t she?” one asked.

“Yes. Maybe we should let her in. It is her house after all,” another replied.

“I’m starting to wonder whether we should leave altogether,” a third friend said.

“She’s right. We’re guests too. We don’t deserve her hospitality and grace more than any one else.”

Another said, ‘If you think about it, she actually seems to take delight in welcoming those no one else would. She actually seems to prefer people who make a big mess. We clearly like things neat and tidy. We don’t fit in with the rest of her friends.”

Another sighed, “You’re right. We don’t belong here. I don’t think she wants us in her house, and her other friends would all be glad if we left.”

Slowly, they opened the door. The woman looked at them from the porch swing.

One friend said, “We’re leaving now. You can have your house back.”

The woman laughed softly and gently shook her head. ‘Stay, my foolish, beloved friends. You belong here because I invited you. You each have so much to offer to the rest as they have so much to offer you.

Come inside where you belong.

Just remember NOT to shut the door behind you.”

Jesus reminds them to come inside the heart of God’s love where you belong. Just remember NOT to shut the door behind you.

Prayer – Holy God, whose Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness, drive us there, too. Take us on a sacred journey this Lent that we might be startled by your Grace and find that reason that gets us up in the morning with renewed hope, passion and purpose.

Have you seen the commercial where four guys in a truck keep driving farther and farther into the wilderness until they get no bars for their cell phones? (It’s a reverse of the Verizon “Can you hear me now?” ads)

As people of faith who swim in this culture of instant gratification, stimulus overload, ceaseless information, I suspect we all need this experience. I Suspect we all could use some time in the wilderness where our smart phones and I-phones will not get a signal, where there is no internet connection, where the TV is turned off, and we can listen, truly listen for the voice of God. Instead of immediately satisfying what we think our hunger is, we can pay attention to what our spirit really longs for. Instead of constantly being distracted and diverted by those things of lesser importance, we can pay attention to what matters most.

The Christian version of driving into the wilderness until you get no signal is called the season of Lent.

It’s modeled after Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness.

Let’s be honest, it is intended to be a difficult and uncomfortable journey. Have you committed to anything this Lent that takes you out of your comfort zones? Those brave enough to take a 40 day spiritual hike into the wilderness ( tuning out the background noise, paring back the unimportant, refocusing on what really matters) will be lashed by winds, baked by the sun and tempted to give it all up for comfort and security.

You can lose part of yourself in the wilderness. Of course, that is exactly what we need: a few key losses of those things in our life that do not nourish us, those habits that diminish us. Wouldn’t it be nice to no longer care so much about the wrong things, the stupid things, and the trivial things? Wouldn’t it be nice to emerge from the wilderness of Lent with more capacity to care deeply about the things that do matter – that matter more than anything else?

Desmond Tutu said wilderness time is not about punishment. It is not God’s desire to punish us. God is, rather, looking for ways to redeem us and set us free from the prison of ourselves. God is looking to restore and return us to our true identity as beloved sons and daughters of God that we might live into the fullness of what that means.

Henry David Thoreau said, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could learn what it had to teach, and not, when I come to die, discover that I had not really lived.”

Are you ready to take this 40 day spiritual hike into the wilderness open to what this journey might have to teach you, even if it is painful to face, and discovering what it truly means to live your story as God’s beloved sons and daughters?

Why did you get up this morning? I love that question. Many respond, “I had to”; “It’s a habit. I get up at the same time every day.” “My bladder was full. I had to go to the bathroom so I figured I was up, I might as well stay up.” Imagine discovering, or discovering again, a purpose, a passion, a reason for being, and a love so real you can’t wait to get up in the morning to live into the heart of that love.

The aim of Lent, of course, is to get us ready for the unspeakable joy of Easter. The truth is we often want to rush right to the joy of Easter lilies and the celebration of resurrection morning. The hard truth is that resurrection comes after dying…are we willing to die to our false self so that our true self, God’s life within us might rise up unencumbered.

So we get ready for Easter by taking a 40 day spiritual hike into the wilderness traveling with Jesus on the way to the cross, stopping along the way to ponder the way his story and our story intersect.

The Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John all tell the story of this journey and they all begin this story with a character called John the Baptist. The story begins with the baptism of Jesus, a life-changing experience of God and a sense of identity, a new direction, and a new vocation…a new reason for getting up in the morning.

And then three of the four gospels – Matthew, Mark and Luke – all agree that the very next thing that happens is that Jesus is thrust into the wilderness.

For 40 days to be exact.

While he is there, he is tempted by Satan, and at the end of it, angels come to him.

Then he emerges from the wilderness with a clear reason to get up in the morning. The story of his remarkable three-year campaign of teaching, healing, reconciling, unconditional love and saving grace commences.

Let’s focus again on the way Mark begins this story. Scholars believe Mark is the oldest of the 4 Gospels to be written and Matthew and Luke used Mark as their primary resource.

Mark is in a hurry for some reason. This book is much shorter than the others by about half, which is why Mark is a good place to begin if you’ve never read the Bible before.

Mark is in a hurry. He uses the word “immediately” a lot. He doesn’t linger in one place very long or editorialize much. He gets right to the point.

In his introduction to the story of Jesus of Nazareth, he packs a lot of material into a few sentences.

Jesus, Mark says, was baptized by John. He saw the heavens ripped open and the Spirit of God descending, a little like a dove. What a contrast.

He heard a voice say, “You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Then that same Spirit drives him into the wilderness, where he remains for 40 days, tempted by Satan. There are wild beasts out there in the wilderness and angels that came to him.

Think about the Spirit that descended on Jesus. Notice that Mark says that Jesus is the only one who saw it. This is intensely personal for him. It is not a public display.

Mark says the same thing about the voice. Jesus alone heard it. It was for him. He was experiencing an overwhelming sense of God’s affirmation and love. “You are my song, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

And notice that the Spirit that comes to him gently, like a dove, also DRIVES him – doesn’t invite him, doesn’t gently lead him – DRIVES him into the wilderness.

The Spirit literally “throws him out” into the wilderness.

That is quite different from the way we mostly think about the Spirit of God: gentle, calming, reassuring, comforting.

Sometimes we even call the Spirit the Comforter. But, right after Jesus’ God-given identity and worth is affirmed in his Baptism, the Spirit discomforts, shakes things up, rearranges the spiritual furniture, sets Jesus on a new path, and puts him down smack in the wilderness.

Wilderness is not just a physical place. It is a spiritual place.

There seems to be something really important about being pushed out of our comfort zones… out of our ruts… out of our routines. Why did you get up this morning? It’s what I always do. It’s my routine.

Donald Miller says that every good story needs a conflict of sorts, a catalyst that pulls the story out of its rut, out of what’s predictable and allows the story to take a different turn, sometimes even a surprising turn.

M. Scott Peck said that when life is confusing, when problems are overwhelming, when life is MOST uncomfortable, is the BEST time for change and transformation. When you are at your most vulnerable…when you discover you can’t do it on your own…when you discover the truth you can’t save yourself…it is then that you really discover your need for God’s Grace that has been there all along.

Peck wrote, “It is when we are most uncomfortable that we start searching for different ways or truer answers.” It is when we are most uncomfortable that we discover the truth we can’t save ourselves and we look for wisdom and strength beyond ourselves.

The season of Lent is like an Outward Bound wilderness camp for the soul.

No one has to sign up for it, but if you do then you give up the illusion that you are in control of your life. You place your life in the hands of strangers who ask you to do foolhardy things, like walk backwards over a cliff with nothing but a rope around your waist.

But this isn’t the real test, because there are still plenty of people around and lunch in a cooler.

The real test comes when you go “solo”. You are placed in the middle of nowhere for 3 days. Talk about being thrown into the wilderness…taken out of your comfort zones.

On this solo, you first have to decide what to take, and what to leave behind. When you have to carry everything on your back, the so-called necessities can become discarded baggage.

You will have quite a lot of time to think. Can you handle the silence? The thoughts and feelings you have been trying to outrun will catch up with you. Should you encounter some wild beasts of your own, will you stay and confront them, or will you pack up in fear and go home? How will you tell the difference between Satan’s voice and the voice of angels?

The hope is that you might emerge from this experience, in the words of Thoreau having learned “what this wilderness has to teach you, and not, when you come to die, discover that you had not really lived” – not really lived the life that God had intended for you.

Where is the Spirit driving you into the wilderness? Where might you step out of your comfort zone this Lent? What does a spiritual hike into the wilderness look like for you?

It can be as simple and as difficult as turning off the TV, the computer, Facebook and anything else that might distract and divert you from that’s most important and do some journal writing. Dare to bring those questions, new and old, that you try not to think about, into the light of God’s presence . . . dare to ask the question – Why did I get up this morning? What am I here for?

Or, what if you fasted from technology or television a day and feasted on silence. Maybe it’s the discipline of setting aside everything to attend Wednesday Silence and Supper at noon.

Maybe it is stepping out of your comfort zone – volunteering at a place like Common Table – intentionally placing yourself in the path of those who may be very different from you . . . assume they are your teacher . . . what is important to learn.

The truth is if you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always got.

Maybe the Spirit is driving you, even now, to something MORE – urging you to live as beloved sons and daughters of God.

Jesus’ great temptation in the wilderness and the temptation you and I face every day is the temptation to settle for being less than the people we were created to be.

When Jesus left the wilderness, he emerged a new man. He knew why he was getting up in the morning . . . propelled by a love stronger than any challenge he would face . . . even the cross. The path was clear . . . not easy . . . but very clear.

May it be so for us!

You don’t develop spirituality. The presence of God’s Spirit develops you, changes you, transforms you, if you allow it.

We’re talking about Soulcare this month. Two weeks ago I said we are a circumference people with very little access to the Center because we have placed ourselves at the center. We live on the edges assuming it is the Essence. We have named that which is superficial to be of substance. We invest so much time and energy in our possessions we miss moments of transcendence where we surrender to that which is greater than ourselves.

We talk about God, read books about god, argue about God but where, when and how do we encounter the Holy…and experience the mystery of God’s unconditional love.

The human being is a lantern holding the flame of Divine presence. The lantern has become so coated with dust and soot, and even mud that we don’t notice the flame and, in fact, may even doubt its existence.

There are those transformative moments when we clean off the surface of the lantern and the light is revealed and even, for just a few moments, our life is illumined in a whole new way. We experience the fire in our souls that can fuel our life with the energy, strength and courage we need to face the journey ahead.

I love the story of an old pastor who had been forced to retire because of ill health. Years of preaching had caused his voice to become very weak. He was an extremely humble man who lived his life very simply and in service for others. He was invited to attend a high-society charity luncheon by a friend.

A famous actor was hired to recite any reading the guests might request. The actor asked if any one had a specific request. The old pastor thought for a moment and said, “I never tire hearing the 23^rd Psalm.”

The actor replied, “I’m happy to do it on one condition. You repeat it after me.” The old pastor hadn’t bargained for that, but was happy for the chance to proclaim the divine presence he knew so deeply and intimately, The Divine Presence, that walked with him even through the dark valleys, so he agreed.

The actor stood up and recited the 23^rd Psalm beautifully with great drama mesmerizing the crowd with his lyrical voice. When he finished, every one applauded.

The old pastor stood up and went through the psalm in his humble way, his voice so weak it could barely be heard. When he was done, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The actor stood up and said, “You applauded for me, but you wept for him. The difference is obvious: I know the words of the psalm, but he intimately knows the love of the shepherd. I entertained you. He brought you close to the Love your heart longs for.” In our consumer culture, we have settled to be entertained when our hearts long for something deeper.

These days our consumeristic culture has objectified spirituality. Do you remember the bumper sticker a few years back, “I found IT.”  The holy, mysterious Other is an IT, an object for me to consume for my own satisfaction. The Holy One that is beyond our comprehension and beyond our imagining, the God beyond the one we feebly label God has become an IT , on object and I am the subject of that sentence.

Our consumeristic culture, is built on the premise, “What’s in it for me?” God is on the sidelines. We are at the center. Spirituality becomes about my personal growth, my happiness, my peace of mind. We have made spirituality about addition.  What are the seven steps to peace and happiness? What can we add to our lives to fill that empty God-shaped vacuum inside? Spirituality in this form is about advancing ourselves rather than falling more deeply in love with God and loving our neighbors.

Way back in the 14^th century, a mystic by the name of Meister Eckhart said, “The spiritual life has much more to do with subtraction than it does with addition.” The paradox is that the  wisdom, love and incredible strength of spirit we witness in Jesus did not come from trying harder, grasping, holding on, controlling but from self-emptying, surrendering, letting go.

It’s the lesson of the monkeys. You catch a monkey by hollowing out a gourd making a hole just wide enough for the monkey to squeeze its hand in. You fill the gourd with peanuts. The monkey, like us, will grab hold of the peanuts and then its fist full of peanuts is too big to fit back through the hole. It is stuck. To be free, all the monkey has to do is let go, release, surrender the peanuts. Instead, the monkey will tighten its grip and work harder to be free until it is exhausted.

In our culture, we are caught in the illusion that freedom comes through gathering more, holding on, protecting, grasping.

Freedom comes through letting go, surrendering, handing our lives over. Spirituality has more to do with subtraction than addition. The whole point is to remove, by God’s Grace, whatever is standing between us and deep communion with God.

It is:

~Our insistence that life be the way we want it to be; our need to control, to control life, to control others

~Our need for security, our fear of the future, our unwillingness to trust

~Our fear of failure

~Our resentments

~Our greed

~Our pride, our need to be important, our need to be right.

What stands in the way between you and God?

Spirituality is a process of dying to the false self, so that the true self, or God’s life within us, can rise up unencumbered.

So the more we offer to God our obstacles to faith and love, and the more we focus on God’s presence instead of our problems and desires, the more we become an empty vehicle for the fullness of God’s Spirit to dwell.

William Sloane Coffin said, “Faith is being grasped by the transforming power of God’s love but to be grasped by the power of God’s love you must first let go and stop grasping at life.” It is about letting go, not holding on – it is about surrendering, not controlling, it is about less of us – less of our egos – so that there might be more of God.

Spirituality is about subtraction, not addition.

In our logical and rational world, how do we wrap our minds around the mystery of today’s Gospel story.

Let’s pay attention to the context of the story.

Jesus was with a few disciples on a mountain. A lot of special events happen in the Bible on mountains.

For the people of Israel, mountains are believed to be the mystical place where God dwells…where the veil between this world and the Holy is lifted.

Moses encountered God in a burning bush on a mountain. The ten commandments were received on a mountain. The most important sermon Jesus gave, the sermon on the mount, was delivered on a mountain.

So when we hear about Jesus and his disciples going up a mountain, we know this was a time of prayer…a time when Jesus was seeking in a very intentional way to surrender and be open to the mystery of God in his life.

Jesus was emptying himself that he might be fully present to God, seeking a deep communion with God’s Spirit.

As a result, the story says Jesus was glowing with the light of Divine presence. The lantern was polished and the flame of the Divine was so bright that even his physical appearance was transformed.

Through Peter’s clumsy response, we know this was something the disciple’s couldn’t wrap their heads around. They were there as witnesses to the mystery and power of God’s presence in Jesus.

This story was a turning point in the ministry of Jesus. After this transfiguration story, the journey of Jesus shifted from Galilee…his home territory where he was safe to Jerusalem and to the cross.

This transformation experience on the mountain comes at a time when Jesus would now face the road that would lead to his own death.

From this deep experience of communion with God, Jesus would now have the strength of spirit to continue to heal, to love, to speak truth to power and to face the pain of his own death. Only when Jesus could touch the depth of the Spirit in his life…only when he was centered in the heart of God’s love would he be able to walk without fear through the valley of the shadow of death.

I think of Martin Luther King Jr, shortly before his death, where he said, “I have been to the mountaintop.” Maybe he too, had a mystical experience where he encountered the Holy in such a way that, it gave him the strength to love and pursue justice, even though he knew it would probably cost him his life.

This transformation experience of Jesus was not about building a Christian empire or having more power on earth or even becoming happier or more at peace. It wasn’t about him. He was being transformed in order to be of great service to the world.

Is such transformation possible for you and me? The problem is we forget spirituality is more about subtraction than addition. We try so hard to be transformed as if it is a spiritual prize we can earn or achieve. It is a gift…a gift of the Spirit…a gift we stumble upon when we empty ourselves, surrender, loosen our grasp on life…that we might be grasped by the mystery and power of God’s love.

I remember when I served as a chaplain in the pediatric oncology unit many years ago at the University of Minnesota. I am embarrassed to say at that stage in my life I thought I knew a lot about God but I hadn’t really experienced the mystery of God’s amazing Grace and presence in my life. I was at a stage of life of needing to prove myself, prove my knowledge, prove my skills, prove my worth and I worked hard at it. Spirituality was about what I could learn, what I could understand, what I could apply, what I could gain. How I could advance myself. It was about being good enough to be worthy of God’s love.

My mountaintop experience was at the bedside of a 5 year-old, Ryan, as he took his last breath succumbing to the battle of Leukemia. At that moment, everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I understood or believed about God, every skill I thought I acquired to help others crumbled at my feet and  flew out the window. I had never felt so vulnerable, so helpless, so lost, so afraid, so hurt, so empty before in my life.

All my pretenses, all my defenses were gone. Yet, Ryan’s family and doctors and nurses turned to me for the strength they needed in that moment. I had nothing. I was nothing.

I prayed, “God, I’m scared, I don’t know what to do.”

I realized prior to this point I had never surrendered, never let go, never handed my life over, never emptied myself because I had always felt spirituality was something I had to do.

In my emptiness, I felt this presence rise up within me and wrap itself around me in a way that was palpable. I could feel it. I felt God’s Spirit take over and simply use me as a vehicle. I found myself taking a paper cup and filling it with water and I began to baptize Ryan’s body…touching his heart saying this is where he felt your love…baptizing his hands saying this is where he has held your hand…baptizing his mouth inviting us to remember his incredible smile. Soon, people started sharing stories and there was laughter treasuring the gift of Ryan’s life amidst the tears. In the devastating darkness of that room, there was a light that held us all.

I had never learned this in a class or read it in a book. For the first time in my life, I surrendered, I got out of the way and experienced the mystery and transforming power of God’s love.

This week we begin the season of Lent, I invite you to think about the spirituality of subtraction… what it might mean to surrender, to let go,  to loosen your grasp on life that you might be grasped, transformed by the mystery and power of God’s love.

This afternoon millions will practice their true religion.

This morning we will eat bread and drink from the cup. This afternoon the elements will more than likely take the form of nachos and beer.  I bet we could really get a crowd if we did communion with nachos and beer. What do you think?

For millions of football fans this afternoon, a spark of some kind will be ignited generating ten times more enthusiasm for their religion than we are likely to see this morning in most churches across America. Unfortunately for many, the nachos and beer will only result in indigestion and a slight hangover.

The bread of life and the cup of Grace, on the other hand, can nourish your soul.

How is your soul? How are you within? When is the last time you’ve asked yourself those questions? You may have gone to the doctor recently for a physical. In what ways have you paid attention to the state of your spiritual health?

Toward the end of his career, psychiatrist Carl Jung said that he wasn’t aware of a single one of his patients in the second half of their lives whose problems couldn’t have been solved by nurturing and deepening their contact with what he called “The Numinous”, the One we would call God. I wonder how many physical problems even have at their core some underlying spiritual issue or dis-ease.

So, how goes it with your soul? How are you within?

For the next three weeks, we’re going to look at SOULCARE: TENDING THE SPIRIT WITHIN.

Father Richard Rohr suggests we are a circumference people with little access to our natural Center…our vital center. We have confused the edge of our life with the essence of our life. We have named the superficial as if it were substance. We invest so much in our possessions that we don’t allow moments of transcendence where we are possessed by that which is greater than ourselves.

We may talk about or read books about God, even argue about God, but don’t notice or nurture God’s mysterious and transforming presence in our lives. We live as if God is on the sidelines of our existence rather than the center of our existence. Faith is there only as a source of comfort or personal morality. What we miss out on is that this God that we come to worship on Sundays is the Creator of the universe, the mystery that we can never fully fathom, the Love that is the source of all love, the energy that is in every living creature, the breath of life, the ground of our being, the light of the world. And this God is not distant, removed, remote, inaccessible, but this God is present in and with all things…including you.

The Reverend Barbara Merritt wrote, “Whether or not you believe in God, you need to realize that you yourself are not God.” You are part of is something much larger than yourself. The song goes, “Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are. That sense of wonder is at the heart of spirituality. Sadly, we, in our world have reversed the song and sing, “Twinkle, twinkle little star, I bet you wonder where I am.” We live on the circumference of our lives but assume we are the center. Merritt says, “For some it takes a lifetime to realize you yourself are not God. For others, it’s a daily discipline to remember it.” This may be one way to understand what is meant by the term “spirituality” – the task of noticing and remembering that we are not God. This is a movement from the circumference to the center… a movement from living for yourself to living in the Spirit of the One who is greater than yourself.

17^th century mystic Brother Lawrence defined spirituality as “The Practice of the Presence of God.” What would it look like to practice the presence of God in all that we are and all that we do?

The Bible says “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth and the earth was unformed and void and darkness was upon the deep and the Spirit of God hovered over the surface of the waters. And God said: Let there be light and there was light.”

And there was light. The light from the beginning of creation is not the light from the sun and the moon and the stars. There is a light, a divine presence, that is at the core and center of all things … including ourselves. This light, we dare to proclaim through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, no amount of darkness can ever extinguish this light is at the center of all things – including you.

Theologian and philosopher Huston Smith wrote, “The human being is a lantern that contains within it the flame of the divine. A lantern may have a functioning light within it, but it may be coated with dust and soot, sometimes even with mud.

So much so it would seem, at times, that the light doesn’t ever shine.

Spiritual practice is simply cleaning the surface of the lantern and then you will discover your life illumined in a whole new way…

Cleaning the surface of the lantern…the light of creation is revealed and we become aware of divine presence…and when you become aware of divine presence even the most mundane moments become holy moments.

The psalmist prayed, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit with in me.” Clean off the surface of my lantern, O God, that your Divine presence might be revealed and I might live the whole of my life in a new way, I might once again live in the embrace of your Spirit.

Tony Jones defines spirituality as to be enlivened by God’s Spirit. Presbyterian Marjorie Thompson describes the spiritual life as the increasing vitality and sway of God’s Spirit in us.

The Psalmist knows it is God’s Spirit who gives us spiritual life. It is not ours to attain, achieve or earn. God is the giver and we are the receiver. Our task is to awaken to and notice God’s presence.

“Create in me a clean heart”…heart in the Hebrew here means the whole of one’s inner being…clean off the surface of my lantern, O God.

“Renew a right spirit within me.” Right doesn’t mean correct here as it refers to righteousness which means right-relatedness.

Reconnect me, O God, with Your Spirit.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; renew a right Spirit within me.”

We cannot, of our own will and effort, create clean hearts. All we are asked to do is bring our dust, soot and mud-covered hearts to God…what we may notice is the surface of our lantern becoming more and more polished revealing a Divine presence…a divine light…that heals, enlivens and illumines the whole of our life.

There’s a teaching that says, “If you want to grow spiritually, don’t do anything. Just notice.”

We want to provide for you a resource to try for the month of February to tend the spirit within: a morning spiritual practice and an evening spiritual practice for soul care. They are available on the stands by the door as you leave.

The evening practice is adapted from St. Ignatius of Loyola who said we tend to look at and evaluate our days according to the fairly superficial “highs and lows” of what made us feel good and what didn’t. The emphasis is on the self. What if, instead, we examined the day we just experienced noticing when the Spirit was moving or flowing in our lives versus when the Spirit seemed blocked or far away. Henri Nouwen said so much of our life is filled up, occupied, preoccupied within ourselves that we don’t notice the movement of God’s Spirit in our lives.

This practice reorients our focus to be on God rather than ourselves.

This practice can make even the most mundane moments of our life sacred.

That’s why we gather at this table: to be reminded…to remember…to notice God is present in even the most ordinary moments of our lives…like eating bread.

We offer you this daily spiritual practice you can use at the end of each day to examine your day…to notice where God is present.

We’ve also provided a morning spiritual practice to clean off the surface of your lantern awakening to the Divine presence and light within and around you.

It’s a simple practice. As your coffee is brewing, sit quietly for 5 minutes and try a different brew. B.R.E.W.

Be – Be still. Even the fastest spinning wheel is still at the center. Turn to that Center. Use Psalm 46.10 and repeat the phrase but make it shorter each time allowing the words to rest in your soul.

Be Still and Know that I am God

Be Still and Know That I Am

Be Still and Know

Be Still

Be

Receive- Receive God’s love. Imagine you are an empty container, ready, open to receive the abundance of God’s love pouring into your life, filling to the top and overflowing.

Embrace – Embrace the opportunity today to be the presence of that love to the people you will meet. Think of the people you will likely encounter today. Visualize yourself seeing the Divine light within them. See yourself embodying grace in even the most difficult situations and with even the most difficult people.

Welcome – Welcome the morning. Welcome the gift of this day. Welcome the gift of this moment. Welcome God’s presence in this moment.

We’re asking you for the month of February, to try this morning and evening spiritual practice. If you are struggling, speak to Jenny or myself. Let us know what the experience was like for you.

How are you within?

Spiritual practice is cleaning off the surface of the lantern – noticing the Divine Light within – and in the glow and healing energy of that Light, all of life becomes different.

There’s a Hawaiian legend that says when we are born. We are given a bowl that holds Divine light. As we travel the road of life, we gather stones.

Stones of hurt and woundedness. Stones of loss and grief. Stones of anger and resentment. Stones of selfishness and pride.

Eventually, as we carry our bowls, it becomes heavy…a burden…and we no longer notice or remember the light.

The bowl is too heavy for us but The Great Spirit, if we will let go, will take it from our hands, lift it high and turn it over until every last stone has fallen to the ground.

And the Great Spirit hands the bowl back to us and we remember, once again, the Light has always been there.

And we continue down our path but now the path looks different and we travel with lighter footsteps, a heart that is free and a spirit that sings.

May it be so!

I love how Eugene Peterson in The Message translates verses 25-26, “The way God designed our bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don’t, the parts we see and the parts we don’t (the parts we accept and the parts we don’t, the parts we like and the parts we don’t, the parts we celebrate and affirm and the parts we don’t). If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and is involved in the healing. If one part flourishes, every other part enters into the exuberance.”

If one part hurts, every other part hurts and is involved in the healing.

If one hurts, every one hurts and is involved in the healing. What a different vision for the world than the one we live in where it is all about proving your worth, showing others how strong and successful you are, competing against each other, winning, not showing any weakness, looking after yourself. Here we have a vision of the world, not as hierarchy, where some are on top and others at the bottom, where some are acceptable and others aren’t…here we have a vision of community where everyone belongs…everyone has a place…everyone is celebrated and honored and affirmed…a vision where no one needs to defend him or herself because it is vision where we are all broken – and we are all part of each other’s healing . . . a vision where the weak and vulnerable are not discarded or judged but part of the whole.

One of my favorite novels is written by Kent Haruf called “Plainsong”.

It’s about life in a small Colorado town. It’s a simple story about ordinary people, to whom ordinary things happen, and who, on occasion, show they are capable of extending extraordinary grace to others.

The story is about a father and two sons; their mother struggling with depression;

A school teacher caring for her aging and increasingly difficult father who has dementia;

A 17 year-old girl, pregnant and alone;

And two elderly brothers, bachelors, cattle ranchers who are set in their ways and lead relatively closed lives on a ranch 17 miles south of the small town of Holt, Colorado.

Victoria, the 17 year-old, has been kicked out of the house by her mother because of her pregnancy.

Maggie Jones, the school teacher, has taken her in, but Maggie’s father with dementia is making the situation impossible.

So, one day, Maggie drives 17 miles south of Holt to the ranch of the two elderly brothers, Raymond and Harold McPheron. The brothers are on a tractor, returning to the house. They had been feeding cattle out in winter pasture.

Maggie stepped away from the barn and stood waiting for them. They moved heavily in their winter overalls.

Let me share with you how the conversation went.

“You’re going to freeze yourself standing there,” Harold said. “You better get out of the wind. Are you lost?”

“Probably,” Maggie Jones said as she laughed. “But I wanted to talk to you both.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like the sound of that,” Harold said.

Maggie said, “Don’t tell me I scared you already.”

“Why heck,” Harold said, “Just like everybody else. You probably want something.”

“I do,” she said.

The three of them enter the modest bachelor farmhouse with stacks of magazines and greasy pieces of farm machinery on all the furniture.

“I came here to ask you a favor,” Maggie said to them.

“That so?” Harold said, “What is it?”

“There’s a girl I know who needs some help,” Maggie said “She’s a good girl but she’s gotten into some trouble. I think you might be able to help her. I would ask you to consider it and let me know.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Harold asked. “She need a donation of money?”

“No, she needs a lot more than that.”

“What sort of trouble is she in?” Raymond asked.

“She’s 17. She’s four months pregnant and she doesn’t have a husband.”

“Well, yeah,” Harold said, “I reckon that could amount to trouble.”

Maggie explains that the girl’s father abandoned the family years ago. Her mother won’t have her in the house because she’s gotten pregnant. The father of her child doesn’t want anything to do with her.

“All right then,” Harold said, “You got our attention. You say you don’t want money. What do you want?”

She sipped her coffee, looked at the two old brothers, “I want something improbable,” she said, “That’s what I want. I want you to think about taking this girl in, of letting her live with you…caring for her.”

They just stared at her.

Finally, Harold said, “You’re fooling.”

“No,” Maggie said, “I’m not fooling.”

They were dumbfounded. They looked at her as if she might be dangerous.

“Oh, I know it sounds crazy,” she said, “I suppose it is crazy. But the girl needs somebody; she needs a home for these months. And you,” she smiled at them, “You old coots need somebody too…somebody or something besides an old red cow to care about and worry over. Look at you both. You’re going to die some day without ever having enough trouble in your life. Not the right kind of trouble anyway. This is your chance!”

After a long silence, Harold says, “Let’s get back to the money part. Money would be a lot easier.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “It would. But not nearly as much fun.”

Maggie asks them to think about it and leaves.

The brothers return to work, stunned into silence by such a proposal.

I love that line, “You’re going to die some day without ever having enough trouble in your life…the right kind of trouble anyway. This is your chance.”

Do you have enough trouble in your life? The right kind of trouble? Having the right kind of trouble is good, even necessary for your soul. Jesus was always getting into trouble – breaking the rules, hanging out with the wrong people, religious folks in his day thought he was dangerous – he preferred the company of the unwanted, the broken, the lost.

Paul expresses a certain kind of trouble where you can’t turn your back on those who hurt – their hurt is your hurt and somehow your own healing is wrapped up in theirs.

A great example of some one who understood the grace of inviting the right kind of trouble in your life is Jean Vanier.

In 1964, Jean Vanier, the son of a former Governor General of Canada, was teaching philosophy at The University of Toronto when he visited the Chaplain of an institution for cognitively and physically challenged people.

That visit was a turning point in Jean Vanier’s life and it became clear to him that God was calling him to something new. God was inviting the right kind of trouble in his life.

Soon after, he invited two cognitively and physically challenged men from this institution to come and live with him. In time, others joined them, until the community grew to over 400 people. He called the community L’Arche, which is French for The Ark and now there are over 140 L’Arche communities across the world..

Vanier’s goal was simple : create a community where people with and without disability could belong, celebrate and affirm one another’s value and gifts and make the world a less harsh and friendlier place.

Vanier said we tend to ask the wrong theological question. When a person is born with a disability or a person is suffering from cancer or a person is suffering in some way, we often ask “Why?” “Why would God allow such things?” to which there is never a satisfactory answer. A better theological question to ask is, “How can we live together as a community with such grace that every person, in spite of their frailties and brokenness, abilities and disabilities, has a place, belongs, is valued and can experience a fullness of life?” For Vanier to love is to show someone their value and worth.

Vanier said, “In the midst of a harsh, violent, and judgmental world, God invites us to create new places of belonging, places of grace and kindness, places where no one needs to defend himself or herself, places where each is loved and accepted, where the beauty of each person is sought and affirmed.”

Jean Vanier welcomed these two men with significant physical and cognitive challenges to live with him. He wrote, “We began to live together. I did the cooking, so we didn’t eat very well. We did everything together. We worked in the garden together. We fought together. We prayed together. We forgave each other.

I began this journey by thinking that I could do good for them, but then as the days and then the months moved on I began to discover, little by little, what they were doing for me – transforming me, changing me, teaching me. I was the one being healed…being made more whole. I began to realize love isn’t something you do for some one. It is entering into a covenant where you accept me as I am and I accept you as you are, where we promise to accept each other with all that is fragile, all that is broken, all that is beautiful, and we participate together in each other’s healing.

Where did you find Christ? He was always present with the poor, the broken, the lost, the hurting, the unwanted – Vanier said, “I realized Christ is hidden in our mutual weakness and vulnerability.”

Barbara Brown Taylor says the hardest spiritual work in the world is to welcome and see the presence of God in each person – to encounter another human being not as some one you can use, change, convert, fix, help, save, enroll, convince, or control, but simply as some one, just like you, whose heart is the same as yours crying out for love and a sense of belonging, and who can spring you from the prison of yourself, if you will allow it.

Thomas Merton said, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love, and this love itself will render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy.”

Do you remember the two brothers? When the sun had gone down in the late afternoon, the brothers Raymond and Harold did talk.

“All right,” Harold said, “I know what I think. What do you think we should do about her?”

“We take her in,” Raymond said, “After all, maybe she wouldn’t be as much trouble.”

“I’m not talking about that yet,” Harold said. He looked out into the gathering darkness.

“I’m talking about, why heck, look at us. Old men alone. A couple of old bachelors out here in the country 17 miles from the closest town which don’t amount to much, even when you get there. Think of us. Set in all our ways. How are you going to change now at this age of life?”

“I don’t know,” Raymond said, “But I’m going to. That’s what I know.”

“And what do you mean?” asked Harold, “How come she wouldn’t be no trouble?”

“I never said she wouldn’t be no trouble. I said maybe she wouldn’t be as much trouble.”

“You ever had a girl living with you before?” Harold asked.

“You know I ain’t,” Raymond said.

“Well, I ain’t either. But let me tell you. A girl is different. They want things. They need things on a regular schedule. Why, girls, they got ideas in their heads you and me can’t even imagine. And, darn it, there’s the baby, too. What do you know about babies?”

“Nothing. I don’t even know the first thing about ‘em,” Raymond said.

“Well, then, “ said Harold.

“But, I don’t have to know about any babies, yet,” Raymond said, “Maybe I’ll have time to learn Now you going in on this with me or not? Cuz I’m gonna do it.”

Harold turned toward him. The light was gone in the sky and he couldn’t make out the features of his brother’s face. There was only this dark familiar figure against the faded horizon.

“All right, “he said, “ I will. I’ll agree. I shouldn’t, but I will. But I’m going to tell you this one thing first.”

‘What is it?”

‘You’re getting darn stubborn and hard to live with. That’s all I’ll say. Raymond, you’re my brother. But you’re getting flat ornery and difficult to abide. And I’ll say one thing more.”

“What Harold?”

“This ain’t going to be no Sunday School picnic.”

“No it ain’t, “ Raymond said, “But I don’t recall you ever attending Sunday School either.”

One hurts…every one hurts, and every one is part of the healing.

“You don’t ever want to die some day without ever having enough trouble in your life, the right kind of trouble…so open your heart, open your heart to God’s Grace, this is your chance!