Matthew 4:12-23 Freedom in Following Christ, we are not the moon!

Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the lake, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: "Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned."

From that time Jesus began to proclaim, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near."

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the lake--for they were fishermen. And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

In this message of good news, Jesus is walking alongside the Sea of Galilee (his new home) and he spies a few fishermen. We know men who fished for a living in Jesus’ day were on the low rungs of the social ladder. So Peter, Andrew, James, and John (those we consider today pillars of our faith) began ministry the same way Jesus did: in lowly estate. They didn’t expect to even be noticed, let alone chosen. But what did we learn last week? Everyone’s chosen! When God has the work of transformation in mind, God chooses us (no matter our social status) to do the hard work of ministry. I bet these fishermen knew something of hard work.

I’ll also bet they had NO IDEA what they were getting themselves into, following Jesus. Probably they were curious about this language of repentance. Repent from what? Yet as they thrust their nets aside to follow Jesus, these lowly fishermen answered their own question.

Repentance means turning a new direction, toward the truth that we actually need God. A lot of human misery centers on how much we think about ourselves all the time. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!” Jesus invites us to think about a calling greater than our own needs. A calling Peter, Andrew, James, and John fulfilled so we might too. I like to sit in wonder about what those first disciples must have felt. Whatever it was that compelled them to leave their nets and their families, to walk alongside this strange itinerant preacher and healer, whatever power Christ embodied, they felt it- and knew they needed his lead. “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned."

We need church, but not for the sake of church; we need church because church reminds us that we need to follow the light. A UCC devotional this week by Matthew Laney caught my attention. He says, Zen Buddhism has many wonderful sayings such as, “The finger that points to the moon is not the moon.” In Zen, the “finger” is whatever points to the truth of existence. If you focus on the pointers, you will miss the truth to which they point.

This distinction is an important reminder for Christians, he says: The Bible that points to God is not God. The theology that points to God is not God. The church that points to God is not God. The pastor who points to God is not God.

My first sermon here as your pastor, I preached on this same “fishing for people” story, that time from John’s gospel. I admitted in my first week here, that I wasn’t always sure what fishing among you in Christ’s name would look like. What I promised then is still true today: I will do my best to point in the direction of the one who does. “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.” That’s us! We are not the light, or as the saying goes, “we are not the moon,” we just get to point ourselves (maybe even one another) toward the light. And the more we point, the closer we align with the light, and the deeper we feel the radiance of Jesus our Christ. That’s freedom- the ability to worship someone other than ourselves. We all come into God’s presence with equal merit, none of us the moon, all of us needing God’s light. Amen!

Isaiah 49: 1-7 The Invitational Church: Shifting from ‘God is for me’ to ‘God is for all’

Listen to me, you islands; hear this, you distant nations: Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name. ² He made my mouth like a sharpened sword; in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me into a polished arrow and concealed me in his quiver. ³ He said to me, “You are my servant, Israel, in whom I will display my splendor.” But I said, “I have labored in vain; I have spent my strength for nothing at all.
Yet what is due me is in the Lord’s hand, and my reward is with my God.”

⁵ And now the Lord says, he who formed me in the womb to be his servant to bring Jacob back to him and gather Israel to himself,
for I am honored in the eyes of the Lord and my God has been my strength—
⁶ he says: “It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob
    and bring back those of Israel I have kept.
I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” ⁷ This is what the Lord says—the Redeemer and Holy One of Israel—
to him who was despised and abhorred by the nation,
    to the servant of rulers: “Kings will see you and stand up, princes will see and bow down,
because of the Lord, who is faithful, the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.”

Beginning with God’s promise to Abraham and Sarah, through generations of child-bearing and story-telling, in both human misery and God’s ability to transform lives, we became chosen people. Growing up, I never liked that word much, ‘CHOSEN,’ because it somehow meant there might be people who weren’t.

At least that’s what the world has taught us. Like some people get invited to the birthday party, but not everyone. Or like that feeling when you walk into a room and people fake-smile at you, because you’re not a part of that conversation. Like when you get picked last for the kickball team, every time. Like when you’re forced to fit yourself into a political two-party system. You’re this or you’re that. You’re in or you’re out! Here’s the question I’ve long wrestled with: Does being chosen have to be exclusive?

It’s not just the world telling us that being chosen is exclusive. I grew up in a church very proud of the idea that we were chosen at the expense of others, but it was always hard for me to stomach. Thankfully, a whole new Christian landscape opened for me in college when I first discovered Henri Nouwen’s work; he, among other theologians, helped me re-envision what it means to be among God’s chosen. He begins by saying ‘Don’t listen to the lies the world tells,’

“To be chosen as the Beloved of God is something radically different. Instead of excluding others, it includes others. Instead of rejecting others as less valuable, it accepts others in their own uniqueness. It is not a competitive, but a compassionate choice. […] You must hold onto the truth that you are the chosen. That truth is the bedrock on which you can build a life as the Beloved.” The world around you and voices inside you will tell you all the reasons you don’t deserve love- and God says none of that’s true. You deserve the highest of all- divine love.

Being chosen is appropriate on New Member Sunday, because in many ways, church membership is a bit mystifying in an era that places less value on a certificate of membership. Why publicly profess a choice to join this faith community? And does choosing this church mean being exclusive of other places of belonging? The short answer is, of course not. Jesus Christ calls us to remember him in community, yes, to embody his love together, yes, but Jesus never asked us to be exclusive. In fact it’s quite the opposite. Even before Jesus’ arrival on earth, we get a glimpse of how profoundly inclusive God’s love truly is.

Isaiah speaks God’s message of broader acceptance within people of God, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the survivors of Israel: I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” God says quite clearly that being chosen DOES NOT mean being exclusive. Rather it means bearing a light that is invitational in nature. God has been calling us, God’s people, since the beginning of time to bear light in every generation. We have been chosen as ambassadors of a new way of living that is inherently inclusive, despite how we’ve diluted that truth with a history of religious formulas, even religious oppression.

You new members joining today, let me be clear that your involvement in our faith community is not part of an exclusive religious formula. It’s freedom we celebrate today, you are free to be your best selves as part of Christ’s body. Nouwen says one key to getting in touch with our chosenness is to keep looking for people and places where your truth is spoken and where you are reminded of your deepest identity as a child of the living God.

That’s who we are- a faith body that grounds itself and one another in the knowledge that ALL are welcome at Christ’s table, because ALL have been chosen as God’s beloved. That’s the invitational church that Isaiah calls for among the Israelites, as a light to the nations. And if we want to be an invitational church, that’s our work too. I know it can be hard to articulate a sincere and free invitation for someone to join this faith community, maybe especially people we’ve known a long time. But when we find the courage to do it, it must just surprise us who needed that invitation most. The invitational church is quick to create pathways for the good news of what Christ has already accomplished for all to reach the ears of those who most deserve it: people who haven’t yet had the joy of knowing they too are chosen.

We are not a cult, you are free to come and you are free to leave, and membership is on your terms. What we all might work harder at doing, is finding the courage to let our chosenness inspire others to see their chosenness too. I’d like to practice alongside you today. “Hey friend, I just wanted to let you know I have an awesome church home, and if you’re ever interested in checking it out with me some Sunday- or Messy Church Wednesday- or any one of our special events, I’d love to have you join me!” That’s it! That’s the invitation we are all capable of and called to- as Christ’s light in this world.

God is for me, yes, AND God is for you- because God created us all, chosen and loved.

Matthew 3: 13-17 In Baptism, We Become Co-Creators with Christ

 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

One of the deepest challenges my vocation affords me is to articulate “why I believe in church” to lots of people. On airplanes, in elevators, at parties, during Uber rides, even waiting in line at Walmart. Now, my usual audience is those who A. have never engaged a faith community OR B. got bored with the whole experience of organized religion, OR the most unfortunate, C. those who’ve been burned by the church or a churchy-person. Now, you are all sitting in a pew on a Sunday morning- so you’re not the most likely crew of folks to receive the “why church” conversation from me. But I suspect you’ve had your doubts too.

Here’s the truth: I have doubts of my own. 3 years ago this January, I found myself ready to give up on organized religion. I was ending my first ministry call to Columbia UCC, I was hurt and exhausted by the experience, disillusioned might be a good word.  As I faced a future with no ministry call in sight, I told AJ I might be done serving a church. In fact I considered taking a full-time faculty position at Presentation College. But here’s the thing, I never felt my call to ministry was over; yet spiritually drained and frustrated by layers of inner-church conflict, I was over organized religion. Or so I thought.

Now if you’re following my timeline in this story, that wasn’t too long before I accepted a call to be your minister. Here’s what happened in the six short months of respite I had from ministry. Even though my feelings told me to be done, I knew in my spirit that I was being called to give church one more chance. To say yes one more time to serving the body of Christ, brokenness and all.

Here’s why: I realized it doesn’t matter that we have baggage, (we all do, every church too); it matters how we manage it. Jesus is calling us all to own our brokenness and to sort it out together. No abandoning the work to someone else. No throwing our hands up and saying “We’re flawed, so we’re not worthy of grace, let’s just quit!” No, we own who we are, baggage and all, SO THAT we might enter into ministry with conviction of our need for Christ.

John the Baptist dismisses his calling because of his baggage too: “But Jesus, I’m flawed, you don’t want me to baptize you.” Jesus says, “Yes I do. I need your partnership; help me fulfill my righteousness on earth.” The big shift in John’s life sounds so subtle, “John consented.” That’s it! When he says YES and baptizes Jesus, the world is forever changed. People like John the Baptist, people like you and me are given the ability to become co-creators with Christ; That’s my answer to “why church,” because I want to say Yes to being part of God’s grand narrative, building a more loving world. Yes! Yes.

Isaiah foreshadows well this new world- and does so by citing how powerful God’s creative force truly is: “Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations […] See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare!”

Being in worship is the place I’m most convinced that God is at work making me new again. Me, you, the church. We’re not done growing yet! It’s here, following God’s call on my life that I am best able to sort through my baggage and be reminded that God’s love is bigger than any of it. Little by little, as I release my failures in favor of God’s grace, my attempts to co-create a loving community with Christ become more faithful and fruitful. I become more whole.

And you, my friends, are a significant part of my journey. I hope this faith family is significant in your spiritual journey too. As we begin a new year, I wonder: What do you need made new again? What baggage do you need us to carry in prayer? Let’s celebrate that we are people of resurrection hope, and every new beginning is marked by an invitation to co-create a loving community with Christ.

As I think back to how much has changed for me over the past 3 years, I am amazed at the power Christ has to make things new again- like my enthusiasm for serving a church! 😊For real, I’m so excited about what God is doing here, that I now consider it a deep privilege to share why I believe in church with anyone who will listen! 😊

This call, though, this life of ministry is NOT only for those who have “pastor” in front of their name. When you love your neighbor as yourself, when you offer compassion, when you are quick to listen and slow to judge, when you support others through hard times- you too are saying YES to God’s church, where we affirm our baptism as Christ’s beloved siblings, with whom God is well-pleased.

So here’s what I want to know: what are you and I going to co-create with Christ this year? A new outreach ministry? Could we dive deeper into the mysteries of Scripture? Maybe we’ll double-down on feeding the hungry and providing support to those who are facing homelessness. You might personally find a renewed sense of purpose- and decide to pursue that idea right here in this church! I am more committed than ever to church, because I see the growth of spirit at work here. And that’s because of you. Because of us. Because of Christ calling us together as church. And whatever new ways we choose to live into our baptism, I’m 100% in. Let’s co-create something beautiful in 2020, in Jesus name, Amen!

Hebrews 12: 1-3 Take Jesus’ Cue: Run the Race with Glory on the Brain

Hebrews 12: 1-3 Take Jesus’ Cue:  Run the Race with Glory on the Brain

Today is our final sermon on mental health- and we’re wrapping up our series with a positive and encouraging look at the way Jesus’s own perseverance offers us hope that we too can run our race with glory on the brain.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart.”

This Lenten journey together has been weighty. So good, but also heavy, because mental illness is no joke. In fact, what we know from research is that for the most part, our mental health issues—whatever they may be—won’t completely disappear, ever. We can manage symptoms, we can develop coping skills, we can find relief in sharing our journey with others, and we can treat brain chemistry imbalances with meds. But for the most part, mental illness remains in our lives whether we like it or not. So the final question we’ll consider today is this: what will sustain our wellbeing through the highs and lows of our mental health journeys?

Here’s the short answer: exercise. Is that what you thought I was going to say? I selected this metaphor of Paul’s about running the race of life, because our mental, physical, and spiritual wellbeing is all tied up together. And when we run the race of life, particularly with mental illness at our heels, we need to be prepared. We need to exercise our bodies, minds, and spirits. It works like preventative medicine: Getting ahead of our mental illness before it knocks us off our game. The world of therapy around mental illness and substance abuse uses language like preventative factors verses risk factors in our lives. Biology matters, yes, but if we have more preventative factors in our lives, we’ll fare better than if we have more risk factors. Like a spectrum of health, some risk factors are unavoidable, but the good news is this: we can all do something to enhance the preventative factors in our lives. And we do so by using Jesus’ example of perseverance despite the difficult circumstances he inherits in life.

I want to start with physical exercise. Plenty of research has occurred on the impact of physical exercise on mental health. It’s intriguing to me- in part because this is one of my personal “preventative factors” for anxiety and depression. When I begin to sense my anxiety levels rising (for example, when conversations between my beloved husband and I become a little less rational)…I go for a run, or do jumping jacks, or something. And 30 minutes later, the situation doesn’t seem so dire after all. One study mentions, “Aerobic exercises, including jogging, swimming, cycling, walking, gardening, and dancing, have been proved to reduce anxiety and depression.” If you’d like some of the biochemical details of it all, it says, “These improvements in mood are caused by exercise-induced increase in blood circulation to the brain and by an influence on the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis; thus, on the physiologic reactivity to stress. It’s affects include the limbic system, which controls motivation and mood; the amygdala, which generates fear in response to stress; and the hippocampus, which plays an important part in memory formation as well as in mood and motivation.” That’s actually pretty amazing, right, the way our physical and mental health is so intertwined? Moral of the story, when you’re feeling down- turn on some music and dance!

Alright, now for the second part: mindfulness exercise. This one may seem a bit more intuitive when it comes to mental health, but it takes intention, persistence, and support from loved ones to really work, not to mention reducing the stigma of asking for help. Exercising the mind can take so many forms: seeing a therapist, self-initiated therapeutic practices, and meditation are just a few examples. If you recall the 2^nd week of this series, I mentioned Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. This is especially helpful for mood disorders like anxiety, depression, thoughts of suicide, etc. And the cool part of CBT is that you can practice on your own. Although I would recommend learning from a trained therapist at first, this type of mindfulness exercise is pretty accessible- now even with smartphone apps! One I’ve just learned about is MoodNotes; it allows you to track your thoughts/ feelings/ behaviors and reflect on how true to reality they may or may not be. If smartphone apps aren’t your thing, one of the simplest and most effective ways to exercise your mind is by joining a support group. An intentional, safe space for sharing your story and receiving the stories of others who “get it.” Every Thursday at 5:30pm we have a NAMI support group meet at the church- you’re welcome to come! Wouldn’t it be great if we started even more support groups like this within our congregation?

The final exercise is spiritual. Now simply by nature of your being here today, you are including a really important preventative factor for mental health into your life. So well done, you’re committed to exercising your spirit here in worship. One way you can commit personally to continue this spiritual growth is by incorporating prayer and meditation into your daily routine. If this feels hard to sustain, you’re not alone. When you get a bit off course, I’d suggest trying a simple gratitude exercise. Take a few moments each day to pray in this way: “Thank you God for….” It’s amazing what gratitude can do for our wellbeing.

Exercise (of the physical, mental, or spiritual variety) is not a magic cure-all. It does, however, hold promise for sustaining our perseverance on this race of life. When we grow weary of our exercise routines, when it feels as if risk factors are outweighing our preventative factors, remember Paul’s words: “We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” I do not, you do not, none of us run this race alone. I hope you’ve found encouragement in hearing and sharing stories of mental illness this Lent. I know I have. And next week on Easter morning, we’ll remember together THE story that ignites our spirits into living hope for a new tomorrow. Jesus is the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. So how about it? Will you commit with me to running our races together, like Jesus did, with perseverance for the sake of God’s glory? Who knows but all this exercise might just be worth it: “so we might not grow weary or lose heart” even through the ups and downs of mental illness.

Isaiah 43: 16-21 Storytelling Matters: Reconciling past pain to perceive a new vision

Today we focus on the power of story-telling with the help of the ancient prophet Isaiah. This scripture you hear today is spoken to God’s people when they feel most lost, most alone.

“Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick: Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing: now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.”

God’s people are exiled from their homes, their familiar places of worship, and for some, even their families. I doubt they felt like “chosen people.” This story may have occurred ages ago, but those same conditions still exist today for us- maybe especially for those struggling with mental illness. In any family or community, mental illness can become a real barrier to belonging much like the concept of exile. Whether it’s Israel’s exile long ago or our own estranged relationships today, we all need a story of redemption to cross paths with our unique stories of suffering. Walter Brueggemann gives us this perspective on the text today: "From the bottom of loss and guilt arose in Israel a series of new, imaginative poetic voices who took the loss with deep seriousness but who shrewdly reinterpreted old faith traditions to turn exilic Israel in hope toward the future."

There’s irony in one particular line from this poetic prophet. “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.” Here’s the irony: this line is spoken after a thorough accounting of Israel’s history. A lengthy airing of dirty laundry (so to speak), a story of separation between God and God’s people that includes harsh language, deep pain, and so much anxiety. Our story as God’s people has never been neat and tidy, and it seems important to this prophet to tell the truth of those “former things.” I like this line put another way: Let’s tell the true story about what’s made you who you are today, but don’t consider this story the final word. Because God says, “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness.” There’s always a way of redemption for God’s people. Always, even when we can’t yet perceive it. Remember the past, yes, but don’t get stuck in it. How do we do this? By telling the truth of our stories AND the truth of God’s story. We need both truths to transform us.

If you’ve taken a look at the mental health resources insert, you’ll notice the book, “Blessed are the Crazy” by Rev. Sarah Griffith Lund. I want to quote you about ½ the book today, but since I can’t do that, I’m going to ask you to read it. Because she accomplishes exactly what she’s set out to do: breaking the silence about mental illness, family and church by sharing her own story. I was surprised to see one of my seminary professors Donald Capps (who taught a course called the minister and mental illness) wrote the forward to this book, and he affirms Sarah’s work by saying, “the fundamental key to the process of healing is to testify to the role that mental illness has played in our lives and thereby free ourselves from our prisons of fear, shame, and pain, and open the doors to liberated lives based on hope, healing, and love.” I can tell you this has been my experience after sharing the truth about my postpartum depression and anxiety.

Mental illness is a part of so many of our lives. And when we sweep our suffering under the rug, we disregard its significance both as a piece of who we are as broken and beautiful people, and as a potential pathway toward renewal. Sarah says, “Families and communities of faith need to be intentional and proactive about changing this culture of shame, secrecy, and stigma. Testimonies only work when there is a place to testify, a safe space to tell the truth. And healing happens when testimonies are given and received within community.”

Sarah’s own testimony reveals the truth that God CAN do a new thing in us, “make a way in the wilderness.” You see, Sarah grew up with emotional scarring from a father who suffered from untreated bi-polar. The manic episodes, psychotic delusions, and depressive mood swings resulted in decades of abusive behavior toward Sarah, her 4 siblings, and her mother. Sarah has a way of detailing her upbringing with grace and grit, and I highly recommend you read her version. I will offer a few of her final reflections: “The power of our testimonies is the power to work through, heal, and eventually transform our suffering. Telling the stories about my crazy father, bipolar brother, executed cousin, and my own spiritual visions makes room for light and air, the things of God’s spirit to enter in. Keeping these stories as secrets buried deep down in my soul gives them power to hold me captive, isolated by my own fear, shame, and pain: fear that I too, will be labeled crazy and, therefore, unlovable; shame that I am not good enough to be loved; pain because this suffering makes me feel alone in the world.”

Finding the courage to share our stories truthfully is a hard and messy emotional process. And sharing our stories is exactly what’s needed to break down the stigma that has emotionally exiled so many of us and our loved ones from a sense of real belonging. I have a challenge for you today: If your soul has been stirred by this series on mental illness, if you’ve heard something of your story in the stories of others, if you’ve been repressing the truth about your own mental illness, make a change today. Pick one safe person to share your story with. Prayerfully sit with the pain of your past, so you might discover the courage you need to share your story with just one other person.

Telling the truth of our stories is where we begin, and as a faith community we respond to our individual stories by proclaiming together the truth of God’s story. Toward the end of her book, Sarah says, “The Christian faith endures because there is power in telling truthful stories. Christianity tells the story of a broken but beautiful people and the God who loves them so much that God offers God’s own self to give the people wholeness and new life.”

You are not alone in mental illness. We are worthy of love as people who live with mental illness. We belong to God and to one another. May this truth set us free. I’ll leave you with Sarah’s closing line (which sounds awfully similar to something an ancient prophet may have told Israel back in the day): “It is my testimony that the God of love is with us, even when there’s crazy in the blood. It is my gospel truth that blessed, not cursed, are the crazy…for we will be called children of God.” Child of God, we need your story to heal us all. Amen.

Forget your Fears...You Matter!

Forget your fears, look to God, and BE RADIANT!

Mark 10:46-52

They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" Jesus stood still and said, "Call him here." And they called the blind man, saying to him, "Take heart; get up, he is calling you." So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man said to him, "My teacher, let me see again." Jesus said to him, "Go; your faith has made you well." Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

We don't know much of Bartimaeus' life story, a man we find sitting on the side of the road. We’re told he’s blind, something we often think of as a disability. But what others see as a shortcoming becomes his motivation to cry out for Jesus. He pushes his fears aside, paying no mind to the voices that try to silence him. Instead, he cries all the more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” because he believes in Jesus' powerful hand.

This is a man who is no stranger to suffering, and even though people tell him otherwise, he knows his voice will matter to Jesus. He's right. The courage it takes to fight the fears of being insignificant pays off, and Bartimaeus becomes radiant with healing light.

An interesting thing happened this week, as I read the lectionary texts together. It seemed to be possible, that Psalm 34, even though it was written centuries before Bartimaeus was born, might be expressing the very emotions Bartimaeus experienced on that day of healing. Listen in:

Psalm 34:1-8

I will bless God at all times; God's praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul makes its boast in God; let the humble hear and be glad. O magnify God with me, and let us exalt God's name together. I sought God, and God answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. Look to God, and be radiant; so your faces shall never be ashamed. This poor soul cried, and was heard by God, and was saved from every trouble. The angel of God encamps around those who fear God; God's angel delivers them. O taste and see that God is good; happy are those who take refuge in God.

As a minister, accompanying people on roads of grief, uncertainty, frustration, and many types of suffering sometimes gets to me. And the words of praise spoken in this Psalm seem to ring hollow at first, as if they're not taking the pain of the world seriously enough. And my own prayers, alongside those I care for who are hurting, often feel like not enough.

And then I remember that the people who wrote the Psalms also knew pain. Deep pain. In fact, it could be their quest for meaning in the midst of sorrow brought them to write these very words: I will bless God at all times.  This Psalm, ancient as it is, continues to inspire our worship as people who follow Bartimaeus' God, our God. The God we believe in and bless, even in our suffering.

“Look to him and be radiant! O taste and see that the Lord is good.”  King David is likely the author of these words, written during one of the most challenging periods of his reign. "O magnify God with me, and let us exalt God's name together!" David, like Bartimaeus, forgets his fears, looks to God, and radiates the kind of faith that changes the world.

What's keeping us from proclaiming God’s goodness in our lives? Are we afraid to say the wrong thing? Do we wonder if it'll make any difference? Are we wondering what others might think? Are we afraid that celebrating the good in our lives might offend those who are worse off? Do we worry that no matter what we say, it will never be enough?

Bartimaeus' story would never have made our scriptures had he simply waved at Jesus as he passed by. David's psalms would never have been published had he stayed a shepherd boy. Both of them conquered their fears in faith that what they had to offer the world mattered. And we would never have received their testimonies of God's goodness had they lived within the confines of their personal fears.

So I wonder today- what stories of God's goodness are hiding behind our fears?

I write poetry, and I don't often share it with others (really only if my mom asks me to). The truth is, I often fear it's not good enough. That its meaning will crumble the moment I speak it aloud. I fear the responses I receive, or the lack of any at all. And still, God places these words in my heart. I wondered this week if maybe I need to forget my fears, look to God, and let the warmth of God's love radiant through my words. So here it goes, I'll share something I wrote this week inspired by the trees and river of God's creation.

You Matter

Billions of fluttering leaves,

Each making more beautiful

The spectacle

of the trees.

When one falls into water,

I imagine its smile,

as it bobs to the rhythm

of its space.

One leaf among billions,

celebrating life given

in mercy and grace.

And if Creator Love

Can give meaning to

one golden leaf,

Ponder how much more 

you are worth

...and ever will be.

When you wonder if you

matter, if you question

your way,

look to the trees.

watch them sway.

And like the shimmering leaf 

who smiles as she falls,

Never let fear stand in

your way.

Simply radiate the joy

of God's day.

 

What story of God's goodness is waiting for your fear to fall away? "O taste and see that God is good; happy are those who take refuge in God."

never been luckier

I suppose lucky isn't the word everyone uses to describe having another hunk of skin taken off her body- but today I feel really lucky.

I feel fortunate because after my melanoma scare from 1.5 years ago, I've had access to medical professionals who keep careful track of my health, even mapping my moles to make certain any changes are caught. Preventative medicine takes such a load of mental stress off my mind, I can nearly describe the excision process as a sense of relief.

I feel particularly lucky to have access to good medical care for two reasons:

1. I know geographical proximity to appropriate and adequate health care is a privilege in this country. Not everyone has access to a dermatologist in rural areas. In fact, had this been only 2 years ago, I would find myself driving 3+ hrs for each dermatologist visit (and I have plenty). I am so privileged to have a wonderful dermatologist right here in Pierre, SD, thanks to Avera and my dermatologist's commitment to living here.

2. I know a good health insurance policy to cover the majority of costs for frequent visits and procedures is also a privilege in this country. I wish it weren't. I wish people with less privilege wouldn't die of melanoma cancer b/c they can't afford care. I hope and pray for a drastically different system one day, even as I happen to be privileged with an excellent health care plan through the United Church of Christ. I couldn't be more grateful for it.

So as I live into the brief pain and frustration of yet another excision- I won't take the privilege of it all for granted. Life is fragile, and feeling well-cared for in the midst of it all is something I desire to offer others as much as I receive myself. That’s what draws me to community centered in Christ’s compassionate ways. And it's what reminds me to value my family more than ever before.

Oh, and if you see me in the next few weeks, please don’t be offended when I don’t hug you. 😉 I promise I will when this heals.

Reflections on "here and now"...a gift of Sabbath

I've been preaching on the concept of Sabbath these past few weeks, and a personal revelation I've had out of all this is how difficult I find living "the now."

I'm really good at living "the tomorrow." Anticipating what's next, preparing for another Sunday or liturgical season, brainstorming for the future of our church and our family. But today, on a day off without an agenda, I'm taking a moment to pause, reflect, and appreciate the first 6 months of our family's life in Pierre, SD. My "now" moment in time.

Because, quite frankly, it's been amazing!

We moved into a home that has been an extreme blessing in more ways than I can count. We're right next to a great elementary school, we have wonderful neighbors, we're close to everything, and it's a new build- so NO RENOVATIONS! :) I also recognize how extremely lucky we are to have this great space, and I find the ability to host others a true joy. Our home is always open and it feels more homey than ever with guests inside.

Our new church is a perfect size for our family. A burgeoning children's and youth ministry, seriously and happily dedicated volunteers, Spirit-filled worship, engaging and critical faith formation, and a place I sincerely enjoy showing up every morning, knowing each day will bring new gifts to my life.

AJ is now closer to the ranch, and although we continue to find challenges in balancing two full-time (and often odd-hour) jobs with the immense joy and occasional frustrations of raising two little wonders, we are so lucky to be in this stage of life. We are productive, energetic, bursting with ideas, and full of love for family and community. Of course, I need a good dose of reminding about this every now and then. I think that's why I appreciate the art of writing about life.

My "now" moment must surely include talk of those two little wonders. Briggs will be 4 years-old in a month (what?!?) and is really maturing in his ability to handle emotions and his aptitude for actually helping out around the house (he insists on taking out the trash, re-filling garbage liners, and yesterday- he ground coffee for us on his own!). His sheer curiosity about...well...everything keeps us on our toes and makes us smile more often than frown. :)

Blaire is 20 months-old, and she is officially holding her own with big brother. She has this one dimple on the right side that melts your heart when she giggles. She is communicating her needs and wishes quite clearly, although rarely with words. She likes to be physically active, always playing rough and tumble games. She even giggles when big brother playfully "prods her like a bull." Must be a rancher's kid, I guess. I certainly don't let Briggs prod me!

Speaking of the ranching life- Briggs often accompanies daddy on adventures like bull shows, cow sales, events at the ranch, etc. and LOVES it. He's always telling daddy how many cattle they should load up on their "really big trailer." Last bull show, however, Briggs informed daddy that he wasn't big enough to actually help load. He's not too small for that job, exactly, he says he's "too medium." :)

With a deep breath, I take in all this goodness of my life "here and now" and want it to settle my tendencies of thinking "future." Maybe if you share with me your stories of the "here and now" we can together rest from anxiety about our tomorrows. Sabbath gifts, meet us now.

Photo cred to my dear sister Leslie!

A Belated Christmas Letter

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to our dear friends and family,

It's been a few years since we've sent a Christmas update. Given the billion changes in our lives the past year (including new mailing address- email me at emily.munger@gmail.com if you don't have it yet!), we thought it sensible to send a Munger Highlights your way! We send this letter in hopes it might reflect the Light that shines this time of year, illuminating the shadows of life. Our light is Jesus Christ, and I give thanks for the guidance we have received in navigating the unknown darkness of 2017.

Here's a bit of our story:

·        In January I resigned my first call at Columbia UCC, my mother endured the brutality of a stem-cell transplant, and I was diagnosed with Melanoma skin cancer on my left shoulder.

·        In February I went through 2 subsequent surgeries, and spent the next few months choking back tears as I struggled to care for myself and my nursing daughter, all while lamenting my inability to offer my mother more care.

·        In March I applied for a new church call, readied our household for a potential move, and learned exactly how demanding staying home full-time with Briggs (now 3.5) & Blaire (now 1.5) truly is!

·        In April I officially received a new call to First Congregational UCC in Pierre, SD; we sold our home on Mina Lake quite quickly (thank you, Jesus & HGTV!), which left us "nomads" for a few months.

·        We spent the summer in transition. Living for awhile at the ranch, traveling to see friends and family, (and to our great relief) securing a home in Pierre.

·        In August I began my new call (love it!!), and the past few months have been a joyful whirlwind of transition (i.e. no blogging). Establishing new relationships, settling the kids into full-time day care (also love it!), and acquainting ourselves with the adorable town of Pierre, SD. Come visit us anytime, seriously!

·        Oh yes, I promise this IS an entire Munger household update! :) AJ has been occupied with a major role-transition within Eagle Pass Ranch management this year. He is grateful and pleased with all the changes taking place, and our new home makes the drive more manageable, but still busy-busy! He's also board chair for a new Bull Stud operation, ask him for more details. :)

·        Briggs is feisty, a great negotiator "how about that deal, mom?" charming, imaginative, cuddly, and sweet "I love you ALL the time." Blaire is toddling around, great at getting exactly what she wants, and melting everyone's heart with her keen smile and sparkly eyes. She especially loves big brother.

All told, we are terribly lucky to be living the lives we have, and give thanks often for the undeserved treasures we have been given. Our light of 2017 included the countless ways we felt support from friends and family, so thanks for all you mean to us. We are ready to pass along the goodness to others this Christmas and New Year!

In lieu of an actual "Christmas card photo," (Lord knows I try every year, but don't always succeed!) here's some snapshots of our Winter season:

Briggs and Blaire LOVE this nativity on their way into daycare each day.

Briggs and Daddy took up goose hunting this fall

Taking a break while checking out the Capitol Christmas trees

Blaire is growing like a flower!

Out front of the Capitol, we really do love it here in Piere

Briggs with his annual ornament from grandma

A tired but happy crew after a beautiful Christmas Eve service

Love,    Emily, AJ, Briggs, and Blaire Munger                            Dec. 2017

So let me dust off this blog’s cobwebs for a minute and tell you about an end to a significant relationship in my life.

It’s one that’s given me a great sense of fulfillment, but has also drained my every reserve of strength. I haven’t taken this relationship  for granted one second, but have occasionally found myself wanting out.

And this weekend marks the official end.

Blaire and I have ended our nursing relationship. At the age of 15 months, this little darling will be saying goodbye to momma’s milk.

And of course I’m met with a sort of emotional ambivalence. I’m SO HAPPY to be free, but I mourn the loss of our intimate connection, the feeling of natural provision, most of all- the positive effects the antibodies provide her.

So let me back up (for the sake of mommy nostalgia) and tell the whole relationship story. Blaire has been a nursing champ since day one. It hurt for 3-4 weeks, like most every mom I’ve known has affirmed, but after we settled into the routine, I could not have been more pleased. I was also exhausted, sleep-deprived, hungry all the time…but satisfied. So much so, that I thought of continuing this relationship for quite some time after we moved.

Until this happened: the day we moved from our home in Mina Lake to our temporary place at the ranch, she stopped nursing. I thought it was a strike at first and offered her my breast several times a day for over a month. After a week-long trip away, pumping all the while, I returned to see if she might change her mind and nurse. Nope. So that was that….I could now choose, keep pumping or be done.

My rational husband told me I’d more than exceeded my goal of nursing 12 months, which was true…but something about the abrupt ending did not rest well with me, so I pumped. And pumped. And pumped. I just couldn’t let this relationship go.

Fast forward to now, Blaire’s turned 15 months, she’s (slowly) adjusting to day care, is healthy and happy, and has been drinking cow’s milk like a champ for 3 months. With more than enough ministry to keep me busy, I’ve decided to stop pumping.

Which is, by the way, one of the most anti-climactic experiences ever. I just pumped these last 3 ounces, washed the pump parts, fed Blaire the bottle. And that’s it.

An end to a 15-month relationship with no fanfare or confetti.

So I share the ending with you, because for all the tears and sleepless nights it’s cost me, I wouldn’t have traded these 15 months for anything (I say now, after it’s over). J

Here’s to all the nursing mommas, the momma’s who wanted to nurse but couldn’t, the momma’s who pump like superheros, the momma-figures who find other creative ways to nurture children…All your love is not lost on me.