Epiphany +3... "Repent, and believe!"

Mark 1.14-20

            Repent!

Okay. Sounds easy, right? That just means to say I'm sorry, and move on, right?

            Nope. Sorry.

Repentance is more than that. It's hard. It takes effort. Because to repent is not just about changing an action, or saying sorry.

            Being sorry is just being sorry. It's important, don't get me wrong. But sometimes it's just words. There's a great example going around Facebook of how sometimes 'sorry' isn't good enough. It goes like this: take a plate; smash it on the ground; say sorry... nothing's changed. Put the pieces back against one another, say sorry again - still not quite good enough.

            Saying sorry may make you feel better, but the plate is still broken. And sometimes, the plate isn't a plate; it's a relationship. So repentance goes much further.

            It's a change of the action itself, based on a change of thought and a change of heart. It's being so truly and deeply regretful about your own wrongdoing or sin, that you feel compelled to change.

            So how does that start? Well, it starts by being aware of the sin. If we aren't taking time to do some serious self-reflection, we aren't going to know that we've done anything wrong. We may talk ourselves out of it, we may ignore it, we may justify it in our own minds. Going back to the plate example, we may say to ourselves things like "It was my plate so I get to decide to break it;" "I have other plates so it doesn't matter;" "meh, the plate was made to be broken."

            But that's not always okay, is it? It's not okay if we want to be living in community. It's not okay if we want to be held accountable to one another, and to God.

            Repentance starts with thinking about an action. It takes that, and reverts back to the thought stage. It causes us to ask "Why am I doing this thing? Why did I think this was the right way to act?" This is the stage where we're looking at the broken plate on the ground, wishing we hadn't smashed it, wondering why we decided to smash it.

            Next, we go back one step to the thought process. This is where repentance has us asking ourselves questions like "What is leading me to sin?" and "why am I not thinking this through all the way?" This is the "the plate didn't do anything to hurt me, and I knew it would be messy,  and I had to go out of my way to do it - so why did I intentionally smash the plate? What's really going on here - is this even about the plate?"

            Then - even further, repentance calls us to consider the heart of the matter - our intentions. The deep, blunt reality of why it is that we're thinking and doing what we are. This is where we ask ourselves "What feelings are there that lurk behind this sin? What need is this fueling deep within me?" Here is where we admit to ourselves that the plate was an innocent bystander. It got broken because we were angry at something else... because we were feeling rejected or useless or unloved or unsafe.

            It's hard. This is the part of repentance that we don't like; the part where we have to be honest with ourselves, to go deeper than we might be comfortable with, to really delve into what it is that's the basis for our actions. And sometimes we may not like what we see. It might be easier to just ignore it, after all... but here Jesus himself challenges us - commands us, even - to go deeper. To look deep inside, to reflect on what is happening in our actions, our thoughts, and our intentions - and to turn away from sin.  Because more than likely, what has been broken is not a plate; it's not something that can be easily swept away, then replaced. It's something in our lives that is important and will be missed once it's shattered. Like our relationship with community, with friends, with family - with God.

            So repent, Jesus says. Change your heart, your thought, your action - so that you can make right those relationships that you value.

Believe!

            Okay - again, here's a word that sounds easy, but again I'm going to challenge us to dig deeper. Belief is NOT always easy. It takes effort, it takes commitment.

            Part of our challenge, I think, is that we overuse the word. By doing that, it's lost it's impact over time. Believe me, it's become a common word. *pause* Yes, I meant to do that. Yet in the scriptures, the word has so much more meaning. It has so much more significance than what we're used to today. The 'believe' that Jesus is using here is a word rich with relationship, with honest and open connectivity. It's a word that is meant to have the same life-changing, thought-altering effect that we use in the creed.

Oh wait, the creed - the statement of belief - the words we recite every week, some of us every day. Hmm. What if those, too, are words that are meant to shake us into action?

            Well, friends, they are. The words we say in the creed, those "I Believe" sentences - those should literally rock your world. Because they're a declaration of belief. Of unshakeable trust. Of complete and unchanging confidence. Of having such strong connection to the object of our belief that nothing will be able to convince us otherwise. So when we, in the creed, are saying "I believe in God!" we're saying that at our very core, that is a defining feature of who we are - and, by extension, of how we are going to act that day. Yes, belief takes our intentions, moves with them into thought, and then grows them into action.  'Believe' will move us through the exact opposite exercise from what 'repent' did.

            We have a belief. Deep in our hearts, in our inner selves, we have that desire to have a healthy relationship with God, with family, with community. Great. Who would argue with that?!

            So we then take this intention, and put it into thought. It's where we start to consider how we might build on that belief, to make it not just a concept but a reality. What does it mean to love God with our whole heart, mind, soul and strength? How am I supposed to love my neighbour as myself? In what ways am I called to serve God and the world?

            And then, we start sorting through the answers to those questions, and putting them into action. Maybe it's helping a neighbour do the shopping. Maybe it's driving a friend to church. Maybe it's dedicating time to prayer. Whatever it is, it's done with a purpose, for a reason.

            These actions, done as a result of our belief, will stand up to the questions we should be asking ourselves. Why did I do that? Because it would help build community. What led me to want to build community? A hope for a faith-filled relationship. What feelings are behind that? A desire to live out my baptismal vows, my connection with God, my commitment to the Good News.

And there you have it. Repent, and believe in the Good News.

Repent.

            Turn away from evil intentions, evil thoughts, evil actions.

Believe.

            Believe in the Good News of God - who created all things, who forgives us our sins, who sustains us all our days. This is the GOOD NEWS which has been shared with us through Christ, and the apostles and everyone who has chosen to hear it and proclaim it.

Repent. Believe. Only then can you truly follow Jesus - as he is inviting us.

Epiphany +2 sermon... "Come, and See"

John 1.43-51

           Nathanael. What a guy, huh? What a transition. He goes from skeptic to cynic to believer, in a few sentences. WOW. Wouldn't it be great if all faith conversions were that easy?

            It gets me thinking - what else is happening in these scriptures to facilitate that conversion? What happens to make that change not only possible, but probable. I think it's all about the attitude.

            We start off, and Nathanael gives us some great snark. Philip is kinda excited, yes? HEY! WE FOUND JESUS! And Nathanael says NOPE. It can't be him. It can't be the Messiah. Because he's coming from Nazareth. Icky Nazareth. Nazareth we don't like. Nothing good comes from that place, so surely God's chosen one, the anointed, the Messiah - would not come from there.

            Now at this point, it would have been VERY easy for Philip to either join in on the joke, Philip was from Bethsaida, after all, which was a great place to be from.

            Or, Philip could have gotten a bit defensive. Nazareth can't be ALL bad, you can't blame a person for where they were born, etc.

            Instead, Philip puts the responsibility onto Nathanael himself. He changes the whole scope of the conversation with one simple phrase:

Come and see.

            It's an invitation, not just to go and visually witness something, but to experience something completely different. Without preamble, without prejudice, without pre-judgment. Come and see.

            And Philip doesn't force the issue - Nathanael could have said no, and that would have been the end of it. But perhaps in that simple invitation, Nathanael recognised that there was something more than ordinary going on - something so amazing that it spoke for itself, that it didn't need introduction or emphasis. Something in Philip's very demeanor - Philip had been changed by this person, this experience, and he wanted to share it.

Come and see.

            What a wonderful invitation. What a wonderful opportunity. What a great example in leadership that Philip gives to us all.

            Come, and see. Jesus is there, and you're invited to come and see. Experience the presence of the Christ for yourself; get your own experience, your own feelings, your own reality. Come, and see.

            It's powerful, isn't it, what can happen when someone chooses to accept that invitation. Look at Nathanael - from snarky and cynical, he has one brief conversation with the Lord - about sitting under a fig tree, of all things! And suddenly, Nathanael's world changes. "RABBI!" he calls out, "YOU ARE THE SON OF GOD! YOU ARE THE KING OF ISRAEL!"

            Perhaps we need to remember this when we want to invite someone to come to church, to come to Christ. Nathanael was not changed by logic, or by force, or by anything that Philip did - he was changed by his own encounter with the living God. Philip ignored the snark and cynicism, he ignored the excuses, he ignored the presumptions. All he did was extend an invitation.

            And we too *should* be inviting people to come to church. It's in this wonderful community of being church that we celebrate our own experiences with God, through Christ. But our invitations need to be careful - like Philip's - to make sure they're not loaded with innuendo or guilt or pressure. Just an invitation: come, and see.

            People - all people - have pre-conceived notions of what it means to be a Christian, of what it means to come to church. I asked some social media friends to give me what they think when they hear the word "Church." My churchy friends - which, let's be honest, are most of my friends - answered with things like "belonging" and "community" and "fellowship" and "an old white rectangular building with a steeple and stained glass windows along the sides, arched double doors at the front." What we would expect, being in that group of people.

From some of my non-churchy friends I got: "boring" and "judgmental" and "spontaneous human combustion, but that's just me." (Ironically, this was from the friend who stood up for me at my ordination. I assure you; there were no flames!)

            Wow - what a difference in perception, in attitude! What weight is in the words of those who have a good experience of church; what weight is in the words of the people who do not have an active and healthy relationship with the church, or with Jesus.

            So the invitation that we extend to others to come to Jesus needs to respect where these people are coming from, without making them feel that they are in the wrong place. The invitation is just that - an invitation - to come and see for themselves. It may happen in our time, it may happen in their time, it may not happen. But the invitation - gentle, honest, faithful - well it's always the right time for that.

            I pray that we move forward like the Philips, sharing our experience of an active and living relationship with God to the world around us. I pray we can celebrate just how much that relationship means to us as individuals, as family, as church. And then we can share it with the world: come, and see.

            Come and see how your life can be changed by establishing and maintaining a connection with Jesus.

            Come and see the world as God made it, beautiful and good.           

            Come and see what it means to be forgiven, loved, saved.

            Come and see what it means to live in the reality of joy and hope and    faith.

            Come and see the light of Christ that is burning deep within you, overcoming all hints of darkness.

            Come and see.

Epiphany Sermon

            So this week, we celebrate the Epiphany. And in Matthew's version, we do that with the appearance and worship of the wise men. It's great - but we get a lot of information that comes from cultural references, not biblical. For example, Matthew never tells us they were 'kings'. We don't know how many there were, or what their names were, or exactly where they came from.

            On the other hand, the scriptures give us a LOT of information, in a small amount of words, that we might overlook if we're not careful.

            For example, the 'wise men from the East' come to Jerusalem, and they secure an audience with the king. That, in and of itself is a big deal. This is like foreign dignitaries just showing up in Ottawa, and Steven Harper taking time to meet with them. So obviously, these guys are carrying some significant credentials.

            And they come to the local king with a question, that baffles him: "Where is the child who has been born King of the Jews?" Whoa. Why is this baffling? Because Herod is not Jewish; he has likely not heard about what's been going on - he wasn't in Bethlehem at the birth, he wasn't in the temple when Jesus was presented, and the prophets Simeon and Anna declared his glory. No, Herod was likely in his palace, a place called Herodium (how's that for ego?). It was on the top of a mountain, about 5km south east of Bethlehem and 15km south of Jerusalem.

            And yet these impressive wise men have come here to ask Herod where to find a child born to parents of a minority group, in a community of - well, of nobodies. They don't ask Herod about his own reign, they don't offer him gifts; instead they ask about a child, to whom they wish to pay homage.  This hints that Herod is in political hot water - if this child is considered the king, then what does that mean for Herod's tenure as king? If these travelers are recognising the authority of the child, what does that mean for Herod's foreign relations?

            Baffling indeed.

            So let's think about these guests, these wise men. Now, by "wise men" we don't mean folks who were at the head of their class - this isn't the biblical version of Einstein, Edison, Hawking. The word in Greek is 'magi' - and biblically, that's all we know about them. We don't know how many showed up, or how large an entourage, or how long it took them to get there. All we know, biblically, is that they showed up.

            They showed up, they chatted with Herod, asked for directions, and said that had gotten there from having Observed his star at it's rising.

            So. They saw a star, and started a journey. Maybe they came together, maybe they met up along the way. But they followed the star. For years - they come to the house (not the manger scene at the inn); they come to see the child (not the infant).

            But - they came. Following a star. Amazing, in and of itself. I mean, we all see stars, right? Do we ever follow them? No, because the stars that we see don't move like that. We see physical, astronomical stars. The star seen by the magi - well, that was clearly more than a normal star.

            And here's the important part about the magi today: they were wise enough to follow that mystical star. And that's the beauty of the magi, as theologians Borg and Crossan articulate: "the word refers to a kind of religious figure: magi had wisdom by being in touch with another reality. ... [M]agi were people with a more than earthly wisdom."[1]

            The magi were folks who were given the gift of discernment. They could tell that something different, something important was happening, from the first moment they saw the star. And it was enough to change their lives in every way. They did this because the Spirit was stirring up in them a call to a change, a call to something new and different. Maybe they listened to the Spirit right from the start, maybe it took them a while. Maybe they wanted to go to Bethlehem, maybe they wanted to just stay home, where they were comfortable.

            But here's the thing about the Spirit - she's determined, she's persistent, and she's fiesty. When the Spirit wants you to know something, you will know it. It's just how she works. Look how she worked in the magi; without that discernment, we'd have a very different Christmas story; the Spirit made sure it happened exactly as it should.

            And the great thing about the Spirit is this: she doesn't just speak to a few people like the magi - she speaks to us all. She doesn't just speak in biblical times and places, she continues to speak to us today, wherever we are. She invites us all to recognise when something is being stirred up within us, when we are being called to change, when we are being called into a different expression of ministry.

            And so we acknowledge - faithfully and joyfully - that the Spirit is again guiding and directing our lives into new and exciting ministries. In the past 5 years, I've witnessed great changes in this parish family. Since I came here and we were a new 6-point parish, we have moved from "well, we'll give it 2-3 years and see what happens" to "well of COURSE we're church, and we're staying church!" to where we are now. We're no longer gathering just because it's what we do as a church; rather because we're church, we are gathering and reaching out. This community is on the cusp of something new and exciting, as it is discerning new ways to reach out into the community, to minister to our communities, to be a vibrant Christian presence that is outside the box. We've had many conversations in the past few months as folks - individually and collectively - have felt that stirring of the Spirit, that desire to do more, be more, to celebrate God's love in our lives in more, different ways.

            That's been our discernment; and it's good. I have absolutely *loved* watching this discernment, and this growth, this stirring up of the Spirit in our midst.

            The Spirit, however, sometimes calls us to some difficult changes. For some time now, the Spirit has been stirring up in me a call to change. I've ignored her, I've denied her, I've rejected her. But: the Spirit: determined, persistent, feisty: the Spirit will not be ignored. And so it is with sadness that I tell you this morning that I have been called elsewhere. Starting in mid-March, I will begin a new ministry in a different parish; and so my time with you will come to an end at the end of February.

            And so we all enter into a time of transition: of prayer, of discernment, of trusting in the Spirit. We enter into a time of trusting that God is WITH us - as this Christmas season comes to an end, and at all times. We enter into this time knowing that with God, nothing is impossible. We enter into this time knowing that the Spirit is not just speaking to us: at this very moment, I truly believe, the Spirit is stirring up in someone, a call towards this gorgeous parish. The gifts and joys of this parish will call to the heart and mind of someone with such force that they will not be able to deny the Spirit.  It may happen quickly, it may take some time; this person may hear the call easily, or they may be as stubborn and obtuse as I am. But: the Spirit speaks.

            And the Spirit speaks also to you: She is with us all in these months as I prepare to leave. She will be with you in the interim time as you jointly discern the future of this parish. She will be with you when you welcome the right person to lead you in the next phase of ministry.

            So I pray that we might listen carefully for the Spirit's voice. This is the Spirit who guides and directs our ministry in the world, who led the magi to the Holy Child, who spoke to and through the prophets, who sustains us and invites us to listen. May we be faithful to the Spirit as she journeys with us.

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[1] Borg, Marcus J., and John Dominic Crossan. "The First Christmas," p. 183