Sermons

G2A #1: "God Wants Us To Take Naps" – Genesis 1-3

For all the options I had to preach on such a rich, dynamic and integral Biblical story as the Biblical creation accounts, and for all the time I had to prepare, I left for summer camp last Sunday with no clear understanding of which direction I would take – no clear understanding of what I would proclaim to you today. All I knew was that I would be spending just about every waking minute during the week “out there” in God’s creation, which I assumed would yield some inspiration.

The last thing I grabbed before we took off for camp was one of the books I planned to read – Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in our Busy Lives by Wayne Muller. This was a book Pastor Mark encouraged me to read before he left for his sabbatical. He thought it was such an important book that he purchased a dozen copies for the church for you to read. Three pages into this book and I knew that of all the different ways to preach the first two chapters of Genesis, God was calling me to proclaim a message to you about God’s activity on day 7 and how God has entrusted us with the responsibility of carving out time in our lives dedicated to the task of finding rest, renewal, and delight in our busy lives.

The call to observe a Sabbath is imbedded in the very act of creation.

“And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it…”
— Genesis 2:2

Contrary to our assumptions, the act of creation was not completed on day 6; rather, as the text says, “God finished the work” on day 7. Stepping back and observing time for rest, renewal, and delight is not a task reserved for such a time as when we have completed all our work (is there ever such a time as that?). Rather, stepping back and observing time for rest, renewal, and delight is an integral component of the task of creation.

Wayne Muller, in his book titled Sabbath writes the following:

The ancient rabbis teach that on the seventh day, God created menuha–tranquility, serenity, peace, and repose–rest, in the deepest possible sense of fertile, healing stillness. Until the Sabbath, creation was unfinished. Only after the birth of menuha, only with tranquility and rest, was the circle of creation made full and complete.
— Sabbath, p.37

Finding rest, renewal, and delight in our busy lives is not a luxury reserved for those who work hardest, accomplish the most, achieve the best, push themselves to the point of exhaustion, or sacrifice everything in the pursuit of success. In fact, the Chinese pictograph for “busy” is composed of two characters: "heart" and "killing."

Our busy lives are killing our hearts as well as our relationships, dreams, and ability to be at peace.

Finding rest, renewal, and delight in our busy lives is a Biblical mandate – a truth imbedded in the very order of creation. Like so many other Biblical mandates, it is not meant to be an oppressive limitation, but rather a safeguard to ensure we are protected from the forces that try to tear us apart from God.

One of our reasons for filling our lives with over-work and maxed-out schedules is that we have forgotten the inherent goodness of God’s creation. We think that we can create our own happiness in spite of the happiness and contentment that God has hard-wired into the order of creation. He writes:

Sabbath time assumes that if we step back and rest, we will see the wholeness in it all We will naturally apprehend the good in how things are, taste the underlying strength, beauty, and wisdom that lives even in the difficult days, take delight in the gift and blessing of being alive.

If we believe our soul is naturally luminous and that we are filled with innate, natural perfection, if we are the light of the world, then when we sink into quiet we return to peace. Conversely, if we believe creation is badly flawed, then we must avoid intimate contact with it. We greet silence with fear, afraid it will show us the broken center at the core of the world and of ourselves. Afraid of what we will find there, we avoid the stillness at all costs, keeping ourselves busy not so much to accomplish but to avoid the terrors and dangers of emptiness.
— Sabbath, p.42

There was something perfect about writing a message about Sabbath while spending the week with youth, counselors, and other pastors at a Lutheran church camp. What better place to dwell in God’s word concerning creation than to spend a week surrounded by woods, lakes, blue skies, rain drops, singing birds, startled deer, and, of course, hormonal kids (God created them too!).

Allow me to relay one of my unexpected experiences of Sabbath from this past week:

I’m sitting on a wooden porch swing. A gentle rain falls around me, echoing off the metal roof on the cabin behind me. The rain is light enough that I could walk and only have drops hit my head every three steps or so. But I’m not walking; I’m gently gliding back and forth on the wooden porch swing. The only other sound cutting through the faint pings of the rain drops are the varied bird calls from the woods to my right. Their calls betray no anxiety about the rain falling on them, nor of the fierce storm that had rolled through an hour before. In front of me a lake unfolds its mirrored face. Close to the banks are images of the majestic pines, oaks, and maples; the lake’s center reflects the silvery-sky. The air is humid but cool and refreshing. My feet are bare, gently rocking, heel-to-toe, each repetition causing a tiny pool of rain water under my left foot to ripple. The beauty of scene fills me with strength. I feel grateful for the opportunity not just to be here, but to be here in such a way and to have so little to do at that moment that I am free to recognize and appreciate the beauty. As if it couldn’t get any better, I have just awoke from an afternoon nap. I am slowly waking back up to the world around me, slightly disoriented, but fully present. I am surrounded by creation. And it is good.

I struggled with whether or not to include this in my message today. I feared that you might not appreciate being told of the virtues of taking it easy because you were here and working very hard. I really wasn’t sure if I should have admitted to taking a nap. Most of you probably didn’t have a chance to take a nap this week. I thought perhaps you might start to think of me as lazy.  

But I realized these are struggles we all have. I realized that Pastor Mark left this book for me and you to read because he knew it would speak to something we all need to hear – it is ok to take time away to find rest, renewal, and delight in our busy lives. It is ok to take a nap. It is ok to find yourself surrounded by the beauty of creation. Actually, it’s more than “ok,” it’s what God desires for us.

To conclude I would like to read a brief story included in the book, Sabbath.

At one retreat there was a woman, a potter. She had been having difficulty with her pots. She would center her clay, and then kept bringing it out, out, to its edge, and then, pushed to its limit, it would collapse. Over and over she would center it again, raise it, bring it out to its farthest edge, and it would collapse. Eventually she would tire of this challenge, of pushing the clay to its edge, and reluctantly surrender to the fact that she needed to keep the clay closer to the center.

As she spoke of it, in this quiet room filled with Sabbath pilgrims, she recognized something she had missed. She realized that she was not the potter; she was the clay. She had been brought again and again to her edge, only to collapse.

The invitation was clear, to live her life close to her center. Properly centered, the clay would hold
— Sabbath, p.212-213

My prayer for you is that you intentionally set aside time to appreciate the glory and goodness of God’s creation and that you would create a place set apart for appreciation, rest, acceptance, equality, enjoyment, conservation, friendship, peace, fulfillment, curiosity, laughter, silliness, games, and growth. My prayer for you is that you would be centered.

Amen.

"Divided Tongues...Whatever They Are" – Acts 2:1-21

Occasionally I have prayed that the Biblical story of the giving of the tongues at Pentecost would take place in my own life – typically when I have been sitting at a desk with a language exam in front of me. I would pray and pray that the Holy Spirit would descend from heaven and fill me with the ability to translate a paragraph or conjugate the list of verbs. Often at such times I would feel the presence of the Spirit, but far from enabling me to speak a new language, it always bore the same annoying message: “You should have studied more!”

In my life I have studied five foreign languages: Spanish, French, Chinese, Ancient Greek, and Biblical Hebrew. Lest you think I’m saying that in order to impress you, let me clarify. I’m not saying I know five languages; and I certainly don’t remember enough of even one of them to consider myself bi-lingual.

Some of my best friends are bi-lingual. One spring break in college I accompanied four such friends on a trip to Mexico. Not the resort areas of Mexico, but a trek through the heart of Mexico – staying with local people, exploring off the beaten path. I was the only one who didn’t speak fluent Spanish. There is nothing quite as unnerving as being in a large group and being the only one who doesn’t understand what is being said. It was humbling and disconcerting. Whether it was just the five of us, or when we were with a group of locals, every time the group laughed I automatically assumed they were laughing at me.

We’ve probably all felt this way at one time or another. When we don’t understand what is going on or what is being said, we feel powerless. When we feel powerless we become defensive and stand-offish; everyone becomes a threat. And when we view and treat others as a threat, we give others cause to say things about us in that language we don’t understand. It is a vicious cycle built upon the irrational fear of the other: the other person, the other idea, the other perspective.

It is this context of fear and the inability to comprehend that the story of the apostles at Pentecost begins. In the last few days they have witnessed the betrayal and execution of their teacher. The betrayer, once their brother, died a brutal death. Their teacher, once dead, was alive, but had once again left them. They had little understanding of what was happening to them. They were terrified of the violent world outside their door. So, the apostles stayed huddled together in the relative safety of their home.

Into this scene, a loud noise, like the sound of a rushing wind, filled the house. Divided tongues (I don’t know what divided tongues are, but the writer says it was something like a flame) came to rest on them and they began to speak other languages. They began to speak in a way that made sense to the people outside their doors.

This story plays off of a similar story from the Old Testament about people speaking other languages – the Tower of Babel. In that story, the people of the earth used their one common language to conspire to build a monument to their own greatness and ascend to a level where they would become their own Gods. As punishment, God tore down the tower, scattered the people, and made them speak in various languages.

The Pentecost story picks up where Babel left off. The people are scattered across every nation under heaven; each nation and culture speaking their own language. God sends the Holy Spirit to enable the disciples to speak to and listen to people from every race, religion, and nationality. There is no call for a common language, but rather a call for common understanding:

The Holy Spirit fills the disciples with the common understanding that God’s promises are inclusive. This common understanding is so crystal clear that even Peter gets it (this is the same Peter who elsewhere in the gospels is always the one who says and does things that prove he hasn't quite grasped what Jesus is trying to teach him). Endowed with this new common understanding, Peter finally understands the message the prophet Joel brought from God centuries before when he said, “I will pour out my Spirit on all people..sons and daughters…young men…old men…even slaves…everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Each of us, at one time or another, realizes we are afraid of the world outside of the walls we have built around our lives. We don’t understand the languages being spoken around us. We don’t understand the younger generations; we don’t understand the older generations; we no longer understand our generation.

Into such scenes, we pray for a loud noise, like the sound of a rushing wind, to fill our homes and our church. We pray for divided tongues (whatever they are) to come and rest on us – to give us the ability to speak to and comprehend the languages, customs and ideas of people who are different from us. We pray that the Spirit would enable us, as disciples of Jesus, to speak in a way that makes sense to the people outside our doors.

Into our homes and into our church we pray for a new experience of Pentecost.
We desire an experience of the Holy Spirit that will remind us that we are God’s beloved creation and as such we are so much greater than our insecurities, fear, and pain. We desire an experience of the Holy Spirit that will send us out as God’s beautiful hands and feet in the world – revealing joy where there was pain, and hope where there was loss.

This is a curious and tumultuous time in the life of the worldwide church. There are voices on either side of church walls instigating hatred and fear towards the other. There is great apathy on the part of Christians who mistakenly think their faith is simply a ticket to heaven, as opposed to a way of life.

The solutions to the problems facing the church will not be solved by advocating intolerance, arrogance, isolation and disillusion. Rather, we cling onto hope in the face of despair; peace in the presence of hatred; and unity in spite of our division.

The Holy Spirit is the mighty wind that will blows the church into new and unexpected places of ministry. No one here knows where the Spirit will take us. Being a disciple of Jesus in this windstorm will bring the church, and you along with it, to unexpected places, and unexpected grace. It may only be in retrospect, and with inspired interpretation, that one day we can look back and recognize the Spirit’s driving wind rather than simply a frighteningly chaotic storm.

May the noise of the Spirit instruct you in the ways of peace. May the wind of the Spirit propel you along pathways filled with new people speaking unfamiliar languages. May the fire of the Spirit burn away your fears and insecurities and free you to live as the beautiful creature God made you to be. Amen.