Background: On Sunday, August 5, a team of young people and adults from the The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights journeyed about three hours north to the community of Irving, NY, where we will spend the week in relationship with our friends from the Wright Memorial Presbyterian Church. This tiny congregation is located in the midst of the Seneca Nation of Indians and we are eager to not only come alongside these folks in service, but to also learn more about what the world looks like from this perspective. This is the final update from this year’s trip.
For as long as I can remember, if someone asks me “What is the purpose of Youth Group?”, one of my top three answers has been “making memories”. When I say that, I don’t mean to imply that spiritual growth is not essential or that passing on the faith is unimportant. To the contrary, I am deeply convinced that the Christian Faith is, in the words of the late Dale Milligan, “better ‘caught’ than ‘taught’.” We help form the spiritual lives of the children we love by enculturation – by helping them not only to know the story, but to see how they can fit into the story. And so each mission trip provides us with an amazing chance to create both individual and shared memories of sacred space, time, and stories.
One of the ways that we did this on Friday was to spend a few hours in the morning tending to some last-minute details on our work site and then taking advantage of our proximity to Niagara Falls by visiting one of the great wonders of the world together. We drove through the heart of Buffalo (remembering several mission trips to that fair city in previous years) and then sailed on the “Maid of the Mist”, hiked up the steps, pondered our own insignificance as well as the amazing power and majesty of God (no surprise that Marla opted to read Psalm 29 in our devotion), and laughed an awful lot. In the process, I trust, we added to our storehouse of shared experiences and celebrated the connections that place us in each other’s memories. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not convinced that too many of the young people at whose sleeping forms I’m now staring while I pen these lines will process this in this way – but I am sure that they will at some point.
The reason I’m sure of that is because of what happened after we got back from the Falls. We enjoyed some wonderful tacos, and then sat together for our final debriefing time. It is a tradition for us to invite the seniors to address the group at the end of each mission trip. There are often a lot of tears, and Friday night was no exception. It was wonderful and humbling to hear Tommy, McKenna, and Lindsay talk about the ways in which connection with this group has been formative and life-giving over the years. Each of them chose to speak of Youth Group as a place of safety and joy in a world that is often thin in both of those places; each pointed to stories of previous trips or experiences as evidence of God’s willingness to meet them in this context. I was filled with pride and joy as I watched them share with their younger sisters and brothers – and as the younger ones soaked in the affirmation, challenge, and gratitude that was shared.
Each morning I wake up at the old-man-ish hour of six and write this. This year, since we’re all in one room for our sleeping, eating, and recreation, I am watching them sleep each day. It’s not creepy. I look at the young person who was paralyzed with fright earlier this week, but worked through it; at a girl who found the bravery and the courage to step outside her comfort zone in service or speaking; at someone who is here for the first time but has, I hope, developed some bonds that will last during a difficult future; at several young people who go to great lengths to be a part of the youth group experience each week; at the one who has been told every day that she/he is insignificant and doesn’t matter; at the one who is always measured by what she/he achieves or does, but finds in Youth Group a chance just to be and be loved anyway… I am filled with gratitude for my brother Tim Salinetro, who has come on more trips like this with me than I can even count, and I marvel at the ways that he opens path of joy for young people… I celebrate the gifts of Marla Barrett, who thinks, “why wouldn’t I spend a week with these kids two months before I get married” and does so with great humor and deep passion… I’m glad for Josie Miller and her willingness to dive into this craziness as she offers herself with joy and encouragement each day.
I say, not as often as I should, that it’s a good life, and we ought to be grateful. Today, I am deeply grateful, and also hopeful. Thanks for your prayers and support on behalf of these young people!
Maddy and Lindsay taping the drywall while sharing a smile…
Marla sealing the joints
Evan helping to supervise the clean-up at the church
Our team on the finished wheelchair ramp
One view from “The Maid of the Mist”
… and another…
We were told that “niagara” is derived from a native word meaning “the water thunders”. I believe it!
This is an inadequate photo of a sacred circle – a place of trust, confidence, joy, hope, gratitude – and now, for some – memory.
The people at the First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of 2017-2018 in an exploration of the Gospel of Mark. On May 27, we considered an encounter that Jesus and his disciples had with some of the leading religious scholars of their day. On the surface, it was a discussion about some ceremonial cleaning laws – but my sense is that the real conflict is about something deeper. You can read it for yourself in Mark 7:1-23.
To hear this sermon as preached in worship, please use the media player below:
I remember the first time I ever paid a dry-cleaning bill. I was student at Hanby Jr. High School and the time, and my introduction to the world of professional cleaning services came as a result of an incident that occurred at lunch the previous week. I had liberally doused a school-issued “tater tot” with ketchup and thrown it across the cafeteria, where it made an astonishingly vivid imprint on the brand-new purple dress being worn by my classmate Tricia.
Food fights. We’ve all seen them. Some of us have started them. When we got down to the Principal’s office following a cafeteria altercation, all of us probably had the same conversation:
“Why did you do that, young man? What possessed you to throw processed potato product at the girls’ table?”
[Shrug]. “I dunno.”
Of course, most of the time, we doknow what starts food fights. They are almost always a diversion – an attempt to draw someone’s attention from one thing to another thing.
– I can’t say that I have a crush on that person, so I’ll launch an attack of candy corn and veggie sticks.
– I’m not ready for the test that’s coming up next period, so I’ll try to get sent to the office instead.
– Something scary is about to occur, so I’ll create an alternative scenario that will attract more adults into the room and prevent that other thing from happening…
Mark takes only 16 chapters to tell the entire story of Jesus’ ministry, and yet he devotes at least half a chapter to describing a first-century food fight. Out of all the stories he could have told about Jesus, why does he tell this one?
Sadducees and Pharisees, James Tissot, c. 1890
It would appear as though the story we’ve heard this morning is here to help readers in the first century – as well as the rest of us – to consider the ways that Jesus understood the core responsibilities of those who would walk with God.
We’re told of a confrontation between the disciples of Jesus and a group of Pharisees and Scribes. In this corner, we have the men and women to whom Jesus has dedicated the best and last years of his earthly life as he sought to equip and train them to proclaim the nearness of the Kingdom and the Gospel message. In the other corner, there are the big guns – the theological heavyweights of the day, including at least a few who have been sent up to Galilee by the religious headquarters in Jerusalem.
The apparent conflict is over a small detail of tradition: why don’t Jesus’ followers wash their hands the way that we’ve always been taught to wash our hands?
I should point out here that nobody, including the boys from Jerusalem, is implying that the disciples are eating with dirty hands. No, the bone of contention is that the followers of Jesus had not participated in the ceremonial cleansing that had become the practice of the day. It’s not a concern about hygiene – rather, it’s a complaint about orthodoxy, authority, and tradition.
The real question is, “Jesus, why don’t you teach your followers to act like us? Why don’t you tell them to live the way that we live?” The Pharisees and the Scribes are relying on their position of privilege, looking at the followers of Jesus as though they are some sort of backwater hicks – deplorables, if you will. They are dismissive of the disciples and of Jesus, and they couch their derision and criticism in an appeal to tradition and to the Bible.
Pharisees, Karl Schmidt-Rottluff (1912)
Jesus, as you’ve heard, responds by pointing out that one can do all sorts of horrible things (like neglecting one’s parents, for instance) while claiming to be doing other, wonderful things (like paying for a new roof for the temple while getting a nice fat tax write-off at the same time, for instance).
In the conversation that ensues, Jesus apparently dismisses large sections of the Hebrew Bible (such as the dietary regulations) while pointing to the reality that a key aspect and indeed responsibility of living in the Kingdom is seeking to grow more deeply in our concern for and attentiveness to the things that are of ultimate importance.
The early Christian community heard the story of this food fight and assumed that it meant that none of the Old Testament laws concerning keeping a kosher kitchen had any relevance in the new understanding of faith. We know that this is what they thought because the author of Mark, speaking for the community, says so right there in verse 19: “In saying this, Jesus declared all foods clean.”
And for centuries, those who would follow Jesus have found this to be a very serviceable, helpful interpretation. It flows nicely from the text; it makes sense; and I get to eat all the bacon I want. Talk about your win-win situations!
But is that allthat this text means? I would propose that such a reading is incomplete, and in fact suggest that in the seventh chapter of Mark’s gospel, Jesus engages the Pharisees, the Scribes, the disciples, the first Christians, and us in a discussion on the role and authority of scripture in our lives.
Hands holding Bible on a wooden desk background.
Think about it: is the purpose of the Bible to control what you do? That is, is the primary concern that lies behind the giving of God’s word that of making sure that you don’t eat shrimp, always tell the truth, and don’t forget to give your money to God?
Or is the Bible more concerned with seeking to engage us as to what kind of people we should be? That is, helping us to realize the call to be generous, respectful, and loving?
For a number of weeks, a small group of us have been meeting in a Faithbuilders group to consider some thinking by a church leader named Brian McLaren, who in his book A New Kind of Christianitypoints out that those who saw themselves as Jesus’ opponents on that day were treating the Bible and the traditions of God’s people as a constitution of sorts. That is, a collection of sayings and laws that are given to us to help us know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what is permissible and what is not. In this view – which is at least as prevalent today as it was 2000 years ago, the Bible is an unchanging document designed to establish who’s in and who’s out. Oh, and spoiler alert: we’re on top. We’re God’s favorites.
Jesus brings to the discussion the notion that the purpose of Scripture is rather to point toward the heart of God even while revealing the strengths and weaknesses of those whom God has used to help craft, record, and preserve the scriptures. He goes on to accuse the religious leaders of his (and, I’d submit, subsequent) day of hiding behind a particular Bible verse or two in order to defend their own positions, preserve their own power, or get their own way. Isn’t it convenient when I am free to interpret the Bible in such a way as to indicate that God is actually commanding me to do something that I was already planning to do anyway?
What if the purpose of the Bible is not to provide us with a seamless set of codes of conduct for every situation, or a litmus test for religious or theological purity, or recipes for how to be happy and wealthy because we always do exactly what God tells us to do?
Rather, what if scripture is a record of a people who engage (or are engaged by) the presence of the Divine in such a way as to stimulate their own faith, to enhance their abilities to walk with Jesus more faithfully, and to respond to the world around them as if God cared for, created, and was in fact active in that world?
To put it a different way, what if the Bible is not so much a rulebook listing for you and me every eventuality that we are to face in life and offering us instructions as to exactly what to do or think in that situation, but is instead more like a diary or a blog written by people who had caught glimpses of God at work in their lives or in the world and offering us clues as to how we might be better equipped to be God’s people in the world right now?
I’d like you to try something. I’m going to be quiet for 15 seconds. In that time, I’d like for you to think of an instance where your mind or awareness has substantively changed on a particular issue in the last 10 or 15 years. I’m not looking for reflections like, “You know, I always thought that beets were disgusting, but then I tried that recipe I saw on The Chewand WOW! Delicious!”
I’m talking about something real and important in some way. Maybe your thinking about homosexuality and the faith, or issues about race, or thoughts about the environment or our economy.
In the next 15 seconds, ask yourselves, “Where has my mind changed?”
When you think of something, then ask, “What role, if any, has scripture played in that shift?
Here’s what I think: if we see the Bible or the interpretation of that Bible that we’ve received as being more like a rule book or a constitution, then any change from that is a mistake. If the Bible is an unchanging code of conduct that tells us what is up and what is down, what is black and what is white, and what is right and what is wrong… then if our understanding of those rules has changed, we are questioning the very basics of the faith. In a system where the Word is the Word, where God said it and I believe it and that settles it – then if my thinking on, say, divorce and remarriage has changed, well, I must be getting soft on scripture and its authority in my life. I know this because I can think of half a dozen places where my own thinking has changed, and I could name scores of people who would be happy to tell you that I am devaluing the unchanging and inerrant word of God and departing from the truth in some way.
But if we see the Bible as a living, breathing document with which I am called to interact so that I might grow in my ability to really walk with Jesus, then perhaps at least some changes could be understood to be fruit – and therefore, not something to be feared, but rather something to be explored or cultivated.
The call for this day is for us to look for ways in which we can engage with, or be engaged by scripture, each other, and the world as a means to grow deeper in our appreciation for and investment in the things that matter to God. I think that means that we will have to reject the temptation to treat specific Bible verses or ancient teachings of the community as creative or convenient means by which we can sidestep or avoid the intentions of God.
It’s easy to get sidetracked and not even know it. For instance, I experience an inner pang of revulsion and distaste when I hear someone referring to immigrants or refugees as animals, or using terms that make those people less than human. Such conversation does not resonate with any of my experience, my understanding of scripture, or even my political leanings.
However, when that language is used, and someone else refers to the speaker by saying, “Oh, for crying out loud! Thatguy? What a pig!”… am I equally offended? That is to say, am I as troubled by the dehumanization of the one with whom I disagree as I am by the dehumanization of the one for whom I have some affinity? If not, then I think I have some growing to do.
The fellas from the head office came up to Galilee that day and told Jesus that they were going to keep an eye on him – that they wanted to see how he and his disciples were “walking” and “living.” He gave them an earful – but so far as I can tell, he didn’t do anything to discourage them from sticking around. My hope and my prayer is that you and I might be smart enough to stick close to Jesus, to learn to walk as he walked so that we might live as he lived. I know that means that I’ve got some growing to do, and I suspect that the same is true for you as well. Thanks be to God for the gift of this community that enables us to engage in this practice together. Amen.
The people at the First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of 2017-2018 in an exploration of the Gospel of Mark. On April 29, we looked at an episode the theologians call “The Rejection at Nazareth” – and thought about the ways that we are not amateurs when it comes to rejecting. Our texts included Mark 6:1-13 and Romans 15:1-7.
To hear this sermon as preached in worship, please visit the player below, or paste https://castyournet.files.wordpress.com/2018/05/sermon04-29-2018.mp3 into your browser
On December 27, 1992, the NFL’s Buffalo Bills played the Houston Oilers in the final game of the regular season. The Oilers not only crushed the Bills by a score of 27-3, they also knocked out the Bills starting quarterback, Jim Kelly. When the teams met in the first round of the playoffs the following week, the Bills were relying on second-string quarterback Frank Reich. It did not start well, and by just after halftime, the Bills were lifeless, having fallen behind 35-3. The temperature in Rich Stadium that day was just about freezing, and apparently many fans agreed with the radio broadcaster who said, “The lights are on here at Rich Stadium, they’ve been on since this morning, you could pretty much turn them out on the Bills right now.” The arena started to empty. One reporter said, the fans are “pouring out of the gates, getting in their cars, driving home”.
But then, improbably, the home team scored a touchdown. And another. And another. And another. All in the 3rdquarter. The fans who had walked away in disgust were now clamoring for re-entry, and even climbing the fences until the Bills went against league policy and allowed people to re-enter the stadium. The ones who were there can say that they witnessed what is simply known as “the comeback” – the Bills winning the game 41-38 in overtime. Later, Bills coach Marv Levy said, “70,000 people were at that game. I’ve already met 400,000 of them”.
I lived in Western New York at that time, and was watching the game on TV. For the next few weeks, all anyone could talk about was the fact that so many people had left the game early. How many times have you heard someone say, “Can you believe that they did that? If I’d have been there, things would have been different. There’s no way I’d have acted like that!” Whether we’re disgusted with the way that fans treat a team, shocked by the behavior of a crowd, or appalled by the silence of so many during the Civil Rights movement or the Holocaust, it’s easy for us to say, “Not me. I’d have done things differently.”
Of course, Christians like to play this game, too. We’re not too far removed from the events of Palm Sunday and Good Friday, and we remember reading of the religious leaders who mocked Jesus, or the crowds that called for his torture. “Not us!”, we say.
Today’s gospel lesson relates an incident in Jesus’ life known as “the rejection at Nazareth”. Jesus has had some acclaim as a teacher and a wonder-worker, and now he’s come back to his hometown, where he is roundly and quickly dismissed. We hear this story, and we say, “How could people act like this? If I’d have been there, I’d have believed. I’m with you, Jesus.”
We who sit in these pews 20 centuries later find it easy to get offended on Jesus’ account. We may even find ourselves nursing some anger at the fact that these people, who ought to have known Jesus the best, were doubting him, questioning him, and even “taking offense” at him. We see the rejection at Nazareth as a scandal or embarrassment that should never have happened, and wouldn’t have, if we’d have been there.
When I catch myself thinking these things, I am caught short because in many ways, in my mind, the first-century rejection AT Nazareth has been replaced by the twenty-first century rejection OF Nazareth.
Here’s what I mean: many of us have found our way to some spiritual awareness or awakening. We have, somehow, been deeply moved or had a conversion experience of one kind or another. We find that we are more passionate about the faith or some aspect of it now than we ever have been. Maybe it’s a personal renewal of our spirit, or a newfound embrace of the environment; we are filled with compassion for the poor or have grown a heart for racial reconciliation. Somehow, the Good News of which Jesus spoke has come to take root in some place in our hearts, and we find ourselves among the converted. We are ready!
And when that happens, how tempting is it for us to live only with those who share our goals, views, and ideals? Isn’t it easy to want to spend all our time with those who are hungry for the same interpretation as we, or who are filled with the same kinds of compassion or fire for justice? Don’t we find it really easy to get irritated with, offended by, or angry at the folks who think differently than we do?
How easy is it to perceive that those who are not “sold” on the same things that we are are simply people in our way, or distractions? We find excuses to ignore or belittle them even as we seek to follow or respect or share with the people who are more “like us” in some way.
When this happens, of course, we aren’t really living in a true community – we’re existing in some sort of a “silo” or even a “ghetto” where everyone is just like us. We dismiss many of the people who are, geographically or biologically, at any rate, the closest to us. “Him? Oh, he’s a gun nut.” “Her? Please. She’s a baby-killer.” “Them? Wow, let me tell you about them. They are pretty over the top…”
Here’s my point: Jesus went to his hometown of Nazareth, to be with the people who knew him best, and with whom he enjoyed the closest physical proximity, and he was himself. And in doing so, he found that that self was rejected by his neighbors. It’s taken us 2000 years, but I’m afraid that now many of those who claim to be the followers of Jesus have turned that situation entirely around and it is we who refuse to dwell with our families or our neighbors; it is we who reject our own Nazareths.
In light of that, I am fascinated with what Jesus does next. Immediately after he experiences the rejection of his hometown, he calls his closest disciples together. So far as we know, each of these men comes from somewhere in the Galilee – from Capernaum, Bethsaida, or Cana. And when Jesus calls them to himself, what does he do? He sends them out, two by two, “to the surrounding villages”.
What was he thinking? He himself had been rejected, and now he sets them up to experience the same treatment.
I wonder how it felt to the twelve? They’d watched as he was attacked or accused or belittled or mocked by his hometown, and now he’s sending them out to the same place, presumably so that they might receive the same treatment.
I was not able to discern the artist for this work on the sending of the twelve. I’d love to know if you can help me.
And, to give him credit, Jesus is simply living into his own paradigm. I mean, he is responding to the rejection that he’s experienced in Nazareth and Galilee with an embrace and an affirmation. This should not be all that surprising, really: this is the man who told his followers that the Kingdom ethic involved loving the neighbor, praying for the persecutor, and, in general, giving better than you got. So in many ways, his sending out of the twelve is simply a concrete expression of this theology, right? His neighbors have rejected him and his message, and his response is to send out what is, by all accounts, the “B” team.
Except for this…
Look at what happens: the Junior Varsity outscores the star. In verse 5, Mark tells us that Jesus could not do anything. And yet, the ones who we often perceive to be the stumbling, bumbling, can’t-quite-get-it-right followers of Jesus show up in verses 12 and 13 preaching the good news, curing all kinds of people, and driving out many evil spirits.
These twelve people simply walk along the roads with which they are familiar, show up in communities where they’ve been before, and repeat the words of Jesus… and find that – lo and behold – this stuff works! Right there, in the midst of their everyday, normal, walking-around-town lives, the Good News of Jesus bears fruit in places where they might have expected otherwise.
I find this to be particularly interesting because in the past ten days, there is one thing that people have said to me far more than anything else. Almost every conversation I’ve had with anyone has included the words, “Well, Dave, how was the trip?” It’s gratifying, on one level, to know that people have an awareness of my travel to Africa and some discussion of the issues surrounding our international partnership, and justice, and famine relief.
And yet, there is at the heart of this magnificent greeting at least the glimmer of a suspicion or confession: when a hundred people greet me and say, “Hey! How was the trip?”, someone might be tempted to believe that I alone have been privileged to make a journey, that I alone have been called or sent out into the world in order to bear witness to the Kingdom of God. In some ways, it might be tempting for me or for someone who asks that question to begin to think, “It’s the trips to Africa or somewhere else exotic that count… maybe most of us, most of the time, aren’t being sent anywhere.”
The reality of the fact, as I believe it is underscored by today’s Gospel reading, is that each and every one of us are sent each and every day. Sometimes, there may be big, splashy trips that require vaccinations or passports, but mostly, we get the call to go and be faithful to the people who know us best and who surround us in the places with which we are very familiar. Each of us is called and sent to work, or school, or family each and every day.
Your neighborhood, campus, office… those are not the places where you are somehow stuck while you’re waiting for Jesus to send you to that one amazing place where you’ll have a life-changing experience. That’s not how the life of discipleship works! Your neighborhood, campus, office… those are the places to which you are being sent TODAY!
Let me offer some encouragement to treat each of these sendings in the way that we regard my having gone to Africa a few weeks ago.
When I found myself landing in Malawi, I was vigilant: I wanted to learn and remember the names of the people around me. I felt as though it was important to hear their stories, and to share a few of my own. I needed to be attentive to the ways that they were experiencing the world that was around them. I saw that they had some things to teach me, and believed that I, in turn, had some things of importance to share with them.
In the same way, can we be committed to actually being present in the places to which we’re being sent this day? Do you know the names of your neighbors, or the folks in your biology class, or the woman who sits at the receptionist’s desk in your building? Can we take the time to really listen for the stories of our neighbors and co-workers and fellow students? I know that sometimes, I can be pretty critical of the ways that we behave on social media, but this is an instance where we can, in fact, be socially engaged. Look at the photos your neighbors post. “Like” them, if it’s appropriate. Ask questions so that you’ll get stories. This is a great tool we’ve been given that can help us to come to know and love the people amongst whom God has placed us.
As you wander through your neighborhood – both geographic and virtual – ask God to use you to bring encouragement, or Good News, or healing in these places.
And you say, “Ah, come on, Dave… what good can it do? I can’t do much…” Maybe. But maybe “not much” is better than “nothing.”
On the recent Youth Retreat, Tim Salinetro planted a thought in my mind that’s been rolling around for a few weeks. He pointed out that in all of the science fiction movies that involve time travel, everyone is always really careful not to change even the tiniest detail because if they do, then perhaps that will result in some huge and radical change in our present circumstances. Maybe you remember the scene from Back to the Future where Marty McFly risks everything by interfering with the meeting between his parents… In this view of the world, everythingabout the present can be changed by one tiny little aspect of the past, right?
We can wrap our heads around that, for some reason, but hardly anyone in the present ever thinks that they can change the future much, if at all, by doing something small today. That’s too bad.
Listen: we believe that God is up to something here and now, in lives like ours, in places like this. God forbid that we reject our neighbor or colleague or fellow student out of a fear or insecurity or laziness or refusal to believe that the tasks that lie ahead of us this day and this week are somehow unworthy of the divine attention.
Charles Spurgeon was one of the dominant preachers in the English language in the 19thcentury, and he once said “every Christian is either a missionary or an imposter.” May we have the grace to see that we are being invited to walk through the world we’ve been given bearing witness to the Christ who is in us, and may we have the sense to not reject that world. Thanks be to God for the Good News at work in us. Amen.
Those of you who use Facebook are familiar with the “on this day” feature in which the social media platform reminds you of what you posted on that particular date in previous calendar years. It’s a lot of fun, and recently, I have adopted the practice of looking at those postings as a way of connecting my current self with the experiences that seemed so important to me in the moment. This week, in particular, there has been great joy in those posts as so many of our previous mission trips to Texas have fallen in this window of time. It is a deep blessing to look at friends (from CHUP and from the Rio Grande Valley) who have been a part of shaping my experiences of partnership, service, and mission!
Today is the day on which the 2018 version of this trip shifts from “what we’re doing” to “what we did”. This will be the closing post from this experience, and it always brings measures of both joy and disappointment.
We started yesterday in a bumpy fashion. I’ve been leading mission trips for 36 years, and for what I believe to be the first time, I began the day by locking the keys inside the building in which we were staying. Not only did I lock the keys to the church inside the church, but I locked the key to my van in there as well. “Frustrated”, “irritated”, even “pissed” are too mild to express the feelings that I was directing toward myself at that moment. We put everyone else into Gabe’s van and I sat and waited for someone from the church to show up and bail me out. Unfortunately, it was the pastor – and Friday is his day off – and I rousted him from that to stop by the church for a while. That was not good.
This is what it looks like as you drive away leaving Pastor Dave fuming at having locked the keys in the building…
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew was working their butts off on Carrie’s home and on Melvin and Mary’s place. Each group felt as though they got to a good stopping point. Our group finished our time at Carrie’s place by completing the lion’s share of the electrical work and hanging nearly all of the drywall. Not only that, most of the seams had received two coats of mud. Meanwhile, the group at Melvin and Mary’s home completed the messy job of replacing a number of rotting soffit and fascia boards, power washing the outside of the home, installing trim, and painting most of the outside as well.
setting a window into place
The group at Carrie’s home
The message in the dust from Caelea reads, “Thank You from Caelea” with some hearts…
Buoyed by this, we took a half day and split into two groups for a little local flavor. As we prepared to depart the church, we were met with two surprises. Unfortunately, one of the toilets had overflowed in our absence and we were met with a couple of inches of water in the bathroom. Mike and I got that sorted out, while the rest of the group embraced the welcome arrival of our friend Roland from south Texas. We first met Roland on the trip in 2009 or 2010, where he was our work site coordinator. Since then, we’ve developed a friendship that has been transformative and life-giving. We’ve worked with him every year since then (save 2018) and he’s brought several groups to Pittsburgh as well. He joined us for lunch and then accompanied the portion of our team that spent the afternoon taking in the sights, sounds, and tastes of Galveston Island.
Reconnecting with Roland!
Dining in Galveston
Beaching it up!
The remainder of our team chose to visit the Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge, a 45,000 acre parcel of protected wetland that is home to hundreds of species of birds and many other animals as well. This group braved a very short (3/4 mile) hike through the mosquito infested swamps and then chose to take advantage of the CD-guided audio driving tour through the rest of the facility.
What could it be?
Oh, I see now!
And one of at least 20 babies!
A flycatcher (too bad she wasn’t interested in mosquitos!)
Every bunny had a great day!
White Tailed Kite
The last of a small herd of wild hogs we encountered.
Everyone had a great time, and then we convened back at the church for our final evening of rest and relaxation prior to our Saturday morning flight. Before we left the church, we spent a few last moments in the company of the Apostle Paul, reading the familiar words from I Corinthians 13.
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.If I give all I possess to the poorand give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.For we know in part and we prophesy in part,but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Our challenge for the day – and all the days ahead – is to ‘liberate’ this passage from its confinement to weddings and seek to apply it to the whole of our lives. We hope and pray that time spent here in Texas will enable us to become more a people of love in every area of our lives. We appreciate your prayers and your presence on our journey!
The people at the First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of 2017-2018 in an exploration of the Gospel of Mark. On February 11 we considered three groups with whom Jesus was associated: disciples, “unclean spirits”, and apostles. Our scriptures included Mark 3:7-19 and II Peter 1:16-18. To hear this message as it was preached in worship, please use the audio player below:
Does what you call something affect what it really is? Do job titles matter? These are the things that I think about when you leave me alone for too long.
For instance, did you know that the BAI beverage corporation has a CFO – “Chief Flavor Officer”, and that position is held, I kid you not, by musician Justin Timberlake. Microsoft employs someone with the title of “Galactic Viceroy of Research Excellence”. Google pays someone to be their “In-House Philosopher”, and a man named Richard Scheuerman has been featured on the Food Network as a “Shredded Cheese Authority”. Time Magazine recently hired a “Bacon Critic” and Mr. Bernie Paton of Oakland, CA, is a “Bear Biologist and Paper Folder”.
As I thought about that, I remembered the 1995 film The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down a Mountain. That tells the mostly true story of Taff’s Well, a village near the border between England and Wales. They’d billed themselves as “the first mountain inside Wales”, and had a hospitality industry that catered to climbers from Britain. In 1910, a team of cartographers visited the town and discovered that their peak, Ffynnon Garw, is only 986 feet above sea level and therefore must be termed a “hill” and not a “mountain”. Enraged, and afraid of losing their tourist attraction, the locals conspire to strand the map-makers in the town until they can build a pile of rocks at the top of the hill. The scientists re-measure, and determine that the highest part of the structure is actually 1002 feet and therefore, officially, the first mountain inside Wales.
That matters because in today’s Gospel reading, Mark throws around a lot of labels and job titles, and I think that they have an implication for our lives today.
In Mark 3:9, we see that Jesus counts on a group of people known as “disciples” to get things done. The Greek word that we find there, mathétés, is used to describe one who is a “learner” or a “follower”. When Latin became the official language of the church, mathétés became discipulus, from the root word disco, meaning “to learn”. It also spawned one of the most awesome band names of the 1980’s: the Disco Disciples.
We read of disciples who listen, serve, worship, and generally clear the way for Jesus to do a lot of stuff. Like most Rabbis, Jesus relied on his disciples for a lot of things. In the Gospels, disciples prepare boats, ask fantastic set-up questions, bring friends, fix dinner, and (as we’ve already seen with Levi) throw amazing parties. We like the disciples, Jesus likes the disciples, and everyone agrees that Jesus’ ministry was really strengthened by the team of disciples that he gathered around him.
One of the Earliest Known Images of Jesus – Coptic Museum, Cairo (3rd century)
Because these folks were important to Jesus and to the world around him, we know some of them. So let me ask you, how many disciples did Jesus have? Some people might say 12; Luke mentions a group of either 70 or 72, and later in Acts he says that by that time the group numbered about 120. It seems that the number of disciples was fluid, and increased as Jesus’ ministry matured.
The role of disciple is crucial throughout the history of the church and even today, of course. In fact, if you look at the Annual Report of the congregation, you’ll find that this church has not one, but two groups of people who are officially termed “Discipleship Teams”. We need those who are committed to creating conditions whereby people can become hearers and listeners and learners and doers so that the way is cleared for Jesus’ message to get through. Disciples take care of kids in the church nursery and set up chairs, make copies, and track administrative data. The body of Christ, no less today than two thousand years ago, would be nowhere without faithful disciples.
The next group that Jesus encounters are termed “the unclean spirits”. Whereas most of the people around Jesus either have no clue who he is, or (like the disciples) are just beginning to get an idea about this, the unclean spirits are constantly shouting the truth: Jesus is the Son of God; they know Jesus to be the Holy One. Yet as soon as these spirits begin to acknowledge the truth about who Jesus is, he shuts them up and forbids them from speaking.
Think about that for a moment – he’s constantly gathering followers around him, trying to teach them, helping them to see something of who he is…and much of the time, they don’t get it. Yet as soon as he walks into the room, unclean spirits recognize him for who he is and announce it – and they are told to remain silent.
It seems to me that the implication here is that you don’t get to talk about Jesus until you show that you have listened to Jesus and been shaped by him. These spirits know the truth – but they don’t really know Jesus.
Similarly, our world today is filled with those who claim to speak for, or at least about, Jesus but who seem to be ignorant of what he really was. There are so-called authorities who are happy to yell out that Jesus wants you to be rich, happy, thin, and young. Spirits cry out that Jesus prefers a particular system of government or a political party. We’re told by “leading teachers” that Jesus wants you to protect yourself and your family from “those people” at all costs. Worst of all are the voices who cry out that Jesus hates the gays, the foreigners, those on the left or those on the right.
Before you invest any of your time and energy listening to these people, ask yourself, “Is that person actually spending time with Jesus? Does he or she look, or act, or think, like Jesus would?” When someone claims to tell me who Jesus would hate, or bomb, or ostracize, or destroy… I have to question the spirit that is driving that discussion, and often times it’s hard to believe that it is indeed a spirit of the Christ behind those sentiments.
Ethiopian Icon featuring the Twelve
The third group of folks with whom Jesus spends time in our Gospel reading for today are called apostles, from the Greek word apostolos. That word refers to a messenger, an ambassador, or a delegate: one who has been commissioned to convey a particular message or accomplish a specific task.
Let’s play a game that we’ve already played once this morning: how many apostles did Jesus have?
I know, the “gimme” answer seems to be twelve, because that’s what is listed here. But later on, after Judas abandons his post, the eleven believe that Matthias is called to join their number. Moreover, the New Testament refers to Barnabas, Paul, Andronicus, Junia (who happened to be a woman, by the way!), Timothy, Silas, and Apollos as apostolos.
Like disciples, the apostles were incredibly important to Jesus and to the later church. We should note that in today’s reading, all the apostles are disciples, but not all disciples are apostles.
The apostles are called to be “with” Jesus. They are given authority to cast out those unclean spirits and demons and to proclaim the message of Christ. Throughout the New Testament, the Apostles are taking trips on Jesus’ behalf; they are preaching and healing and generally speaking for Jesus (which sets them apart from both the unclean spirits and the disciples). In reflecting on this, Peter wrote to his friends, essentially, “Look, it’s not like we had a choice or anything: we saw it with our own eyes. You can’t make this stuff up! Jesus was the real deal, and we were compelled to share it with you all.”
So what does all of that mean in our context?
Here’s a clue: when the language of the church transitioned from Greek to Latin, the Greek apostolos was sometimes simply shifted to the Latin apostolo; however, the preferred term was often the Latin word missio. As in “mission”, or, in this context, “missionary”.
How many of you here today are anticipating being a part of a Mission Trip this week? Can you believe it? We have seventeen adults who have some level of connection with this congregation who are preparing to leave next Sunday morning for Houston, Texas. When we get to the Pittsburgh Airport, we’ll be joined by another dozen from the John McMillan church in Bethel Park. Almost 30 people who are taking time away from their so-called “normal” lives in order to dwell with each other and the folks on the Gulf coast of Texas who have suffered through the horror of Hurricane Harvey.
And we are calling this a “Mission Trip”. Why? Because we believe that framing walls and cleaning out muck and removing moldy drywall and laying new sewage lines and helping people sift through generations of family mementos and memories are all a part of demonstrating and proclaiming the reconciling work of God in Jesus Christ. We use that terminology because we have gathered in this place and heard the call of Jesus and sought to follow – that is, we have become disciples; and now we understand that we are being given an opportunity to share in the purposes of God in the context of the Texas Gulf coast, and therefore we are sent as apostolos. The labels matter. If this is indeed a mission trip – and I am convinced that it is – then that makes the 29 of us missionaries, right? We are called to become that which we are sent to accomplish.
So, that takes care of a couple dozen of us… is that what we’re here to talk about? 29 people planning a mission trip this week? What about the rest of us? What are you planning to do?
Let me ask you this:
Is the healing power of Jesus Christ needed on the campus over at CCAC this week?
Are there people with whom you work who need to hear a word of grace, encouragement, or hope?
Would the scene at the grocery store, your family’s dinner table, a blind date, or a board meeting be improved by the presence, spirit, power, and love of Jesus of Nazareth?
In short, would our world be better if the stuff that we talked about while we’re in this room somehow managed to find its way out there? Would the lives of our neighbors be blessed if some of the life and ministry and teaching and love and hope and justice of Jesus was lived and shared and conveyed into the arenas in which those neighbors live and work and play?
Yeah, yeah, yeah… now that you mention it, Pastor, it would. But how is it going to get there? How?
If only there were people in this room today who were willing and able to hear from Jesus; someone who wanted to learn from him and follow him around as he does such amazing things in our world… if only there were people like that who would also be liable to show up on campus or at work or in relationships with neighbors and family later this week. But where could we possibly find people who are both here, with Jesus as followers, and out there in the world that he loves?
You might have come in here willing to be a disciple. And that’s great. It’s a fine job title. Yet I hope and pray that you will find in you a hunger to become an apostle. Next week a fraction of us will be going to Texas. My deep prayer is that each of us would recognize that we are being sent on a mission. Oh, that all of our trips would be mission trips.
Thanks be to God, they can be – because that is who you are.
Not long ago I was driving along and I thought I heard singer-songwriter James Taylor doing an amazingly beautiful rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” I was so taken with it that when I got home, I searched the internet, but could not find it. I couldn’t find it because, apparently, James Taylor hasn’t recorded that tune. I learned that day that James Taylor has a younger brother named Livingston, and now I’m a fan.
Have you ever found yourself reacting to someone you’d never really met before simply because they remind you of someone else? I’m not talking about “mistaken identity”, like when I’ve been asked for my autograph because someone thinks that I’m NFL broadcaster Dan Fouts; I’m talking about how you might treat someone nicer because she sort of looks like your grandmother, or how your neighbor’s child reminds you of the way your brother acted when he was younger.
When the author of Mark was writing his gospel, he went to great lengths to point out to people some of the ways that Jesus might have reminded them of someone that they ought to have known very well.
Ascent of the Prophet Elijah, Northern Russia Icon (c. 1290)
One of the most important characters in the entire Bible, and in our own faith story, is a shadowy figure named Elijah the Tishbite. He was widely regarded as Israel’s greatest prophet. He arose, seemingly, out of nowhere and called an unrighteous monarchy to account. He pushed the leadership of the people and the people themselves for purity in their spiritual lives. Elijah is one of two people mentioned in the Bible who did not die – rather, he was “taken up into heaven” in a fiery chariot.
Because of his reputation as a prophet, and because of the story of his having been taken directly to heaven, the people in Israel began to speak of Elijah’s return as the time when God would come and really set things straight once and for all. Four or five hundred years after Elijah’s death, the prophet Malachi wrote that Elijah would return at “the great and dreadful day of the Lord” (Malachi 4:5). When faithful Jews observe the Seder meal at Passover, it is customary to set a place at the table for Elijah – the one who comes to announce the presence of the Lord.
Mark wants us to remember Elijah. The prophet himself will figure prominently in the gospel in later chapters, but even here at the beginning, our narrator intends for us to see echoes of the Elijah story. Here’s a bit of that story to jog your memory.
As I mentioned, Elijah’s concern was defeating the idolatry that plagued his people. One day, he challenged the priests of Baal to a showdown of faith – one that ended very badly for them and for their “god”. While that may have been a very good thing for a number of reasons, the fact is that the King and Queen of Israel were Baal worshipers, and when he humiliated them, they put his name on their “public enemies” list. He fled to the wilderness, where he spent 40 days and 40 nights bemoaning his fate. At the end of that time, God came to Elijah when Elijah was alone, and spoke to him as to what to do next.
The old prophet leaves his mountain hideout and re-enters the community, where he encounters Elisha. He places his mantle on the young man’s shoulders, and in so doing, invites him to come along. It might not seem like it to our 21st-century ears, but placing the prophet’s mantle on Elisha was a very concrete invitation. It would be as if I asked Lydia to come over here, and I took off my robe and stole and put them on her – it would be an indication of what I thought her future might hold, wouldn’t it?
And Elisha doesn’t miss the message. He goes through a very public display of leaving his home, his family, and his career and then follows Elijah.
The Calling of Saint Peter and Saint Andrew, James Tissot (in 1886-1894)
In last week’s reading from Mark, we read of another man who wandered into the wilderness. Jesus left Nazareth and found John the Baptist; after their encounter, Jesus alone hears a voice and sees a vision that directs him. He then spends – how long? Forty days and forty nights in the wilderness, following which he engages in his ministry. The first thing he does when he leaves the wilderness, according to Mark, is to come into Galilee preaching and teaching. Simon, Andrew, James and John all see Jesus and make a very public display of leaving their own homes, families, and careers in order to follow Jesus.
Do you see how the reading from Mark is set up to parallel the story of Elijah? Why would he do that? What does that mean to us?
You may remember that a couple of weeks ago when we began this study we noted that Mark invented the genre we call “Gospel”. Chapter one, verse one: “The beginning of the Gospel (good news) of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…” So far, we have encountered John the Baptist and seen Jesus. Now, in verse fourteen, we actually hear the Gospel: “The time has come! The Kingdom of God has come near! Repent and believe the good news!”
The first announcement of the Gospel as recorded in the first Gospel to be written consists of two announcements (“the time has come” and “the Kingdom of God has come near”) and two imperatives (“repent” and “believe”). The thing that God has long-intended to do is here! Pay attention. How do we pay attention? We repent. The Greek word that Mark uses is metanoia, and it means, literally “change of mind”. It speaks of being transformed, and re-orientation. And once we become open to this transformation, we live into it by believing. Pisteuete – have confidence in this thing; act as if it were true; depend on it – in short: believe!
Ah, but how do we do those things? What do “repent” and “believe” look like in our world?
Too often in modern and post-modern American culture, the word “repent” is used as a guided missile. An “evangelist” (literally, someone who is entrusted to carry the Good News) encounters a “non-believer” and hurls the invective: “You! Yes, you! Turn or burn, baby. You are so filthy, so miserable, so sinful… well, you make God sick! You better straighten up, buddy! You’d better get with the program like the rest of us holy people!” Yep, Good News all around!
And if that is how “repent” is interpreted, then the second part of the pronouncement to “believe” can often be heard as a call to abandon the intellect, turn your back on science, and just accept whatever I tell you to be true, you ninny.
Yet when we place those words in the context of Jesus (and Elijah, for that matter), we see that there is an entirely different mood and outcome.
Elijah places his mantle on Elisha, who asks a question. The old prophet immediately responds by saying, “Look? What did I do to you? This is between you and God. It’s not about keeping me happy. You do what you need to do.”
Jesus stands on the beach and calls out to the fishermen: “Come, follow me…” According to Mark, this is one of only three times that Jesus uses this particular word. It’s not the regular word for “follow”, but more appropriately “come along with me”, or “join me” or even “share this journey with me”. In other words, the call to repentance and belief is an invitation that is extended by one who wishes to share in the process, not browbeat some helpless people into theological submission.
I had a great example of this kind of invitation earlier this week. I was at my desk when I got a text from Marla (I’m still not sure how I feel about people who are in the same building, or even the same room as I am who send texts rather than simply walking over and conversing, but that could simply mean that I’m really old). The message read, “Come down to the side door. You’re gonna want to see this.”
That brief message had so much good in it: there was invitation, intrigue, presence, and anticipation. There was no sense of a threat; there was no scolding. My friend was inviting me to join her in a place she thought I would appreciate. So you know what I did: I got up and hightailed it to the side door – because I trust Marla. If she said I would want to see it, then I wanted to see it.
She showed me the back of her car, filled with nearly 300 brand new books that had been donated to the Open Door for distribution to the children of this community. She was right! I did want to see it. She had good news, and she showed me the good news. She also made me help her unload the good news into the church, but that’s another sermon I suppose).
Jesus, fresh from the vision and voice of God, fresh from his time of testing in the wilderness, walks over to the edge of the water and calls to those who are working hard: “Hey, fellas! Check this out! Come and see!” He walks a little farther, where he encounters a couple more men who are nearly finished with their daily tasks and says, “You’re gonna want to see this…” And they do! They get up and they follow.
I want to note at this point that the calls from Elijah and Jesus do not come at the time of optimum convenience. Nobody shows up at the house, or stops by the beach on a day when you are just hanging around with all of your stuff done, wondering “I wonder if anyone has anything interesting they’d like to show me? I mean, I’ve got a lot of extra time and energy right now. Maybe someone will invite me into a new place to serve…”
The call to walk with Jesus (as with Elijah) rarely seems to come when people are feeling exceptionally well-rested, well-funded, or well-equipped.
The call to walk with Jesus often requires a leaving of sorts. Sometimes this is dramatic, as when we are invited to battle through an addiction or interrupt an occupation. Sometimes it is disappointing, as when we are encouraged to let go of a relationship that we treasure, but we know to be toxic. Oftentimes, it is frustrating, as we think about getting up earlier on yet another day, or spending time at one more meeting… And we realize that leaving what we have known and come to love and trust is always filled with some kind of grief, even when we are pretty sure that we are moving into something that is better for us (that’s why we cry not only at funerals, but at weddings: we hope for what will be, but we kind of love what is…).
Yet the call from Jesus is personal, genuine, and non-threatening. “Come with me. You’re going to want to see this. Let me show you that for which you are longing. Enter into this new way of life with me.”
I was struck by an example of this kind of invitation to a new way of life as I reflected on the opportunities I have had to travel internationally. Someone says, “Hey, come to Africa!”, and you think, “Wow! What a change that would be!”
There are a whole series of announcements: I’d like to go… I’m getting ready to go… It’s time to go: the trip is at hand!
You find yourself milling around the terminal at Dulles airport, where it seems as though the whole world has gathered. There are voices everywhere, and monitors all around you. Some people hear an announcement that flight #877 is leaving for Addis Ababa, and they get up and go to gate A23. Some people, presumably, don’t want to go to Addis, and they keep on walking. Still others don’t understand the language in which the announcement is made, and so they continue in confusion.
You get to Addis, and you find yourself in an airport that is, to your mind, incredibly crowded, overwhelmingly smelly, and poorly laid out. It is filled with strange sounds, and the PA system seems to work about 1/3 of the time. If you can find one, you settle into a seat, hoping that you’ll be able to make sense of what is going on… and then you realize that the one who invited you to come on this journey is sitting right next to you. What a relief it is to travel with someone who has been there before. It’s still a little scary, but you can catch your breath because you know it’s not all up to you! What a relief, right?
The Gospel – the good news – is this: the time has come! The Kingdom of God is near to you! So come on! Jesus is inviting you and me into the rest of Mark. He seems to think that there are things that we’ll want to see.
None of us are going alone. I know, you think, “Well, it’s not really a great time for me to be thinking about making major life changes.” Yeah. Join the club. But it will never be a perfect time. So let’s see what there is to see. Let’s leave our boats, our nets, our current fascinations and walk a while with Jesus into the nuances of discipleship. It may be that we will find the life of deeper discipleship to be that one for which we are made! It may be that the purposes to which we are called reflect those we were given at our birth.
What has he done to you? He’s invited you. Thanks be to God, he’s invited all of us. May we have the grace to follow with him today. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Our week of service, learning, fellowship, and fun in the Qualla Boundary of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians is nearly complete, and we finished strong!
Evan starts the demolition of the steps.
Thursday was, like most other days this week, a rainy day. Yet this team of young people worked through the showers to dissemble a rickety set of steps on Miss Charlene’s home and install a safe, sturdy, spacious entryway for her and her family to use. Everyone did something – in fact, I can’t recall seeing more people at work on an area that was approximately 5′ x 5′ in my life!
We got to be expert diggers and rock removers on this trip!
Katie using a “Saws-All” for the first time
While we were hard at work outside, Miss Charlene was hard at work inside, and at lunch she treated us to an amazing meal of what she called “Cherokee Tacos” – the “shell” was a delicious fry bread, and the fillings consisted of lettuce, tomato, cheese, beef, beans, cucumbers… wow! It was delicious.
At the end of our work day we were further surprised to be called onto the porch by Miss Charlene’s children. Isaiah, a high school student, presented Tim and myself with some woodcarvings on which he had been working. Catherine, his younger sister, gave the two of us hand-made baskets. And every single participant on the trip received a handmade necklace made from glass and corn beads. This is an especially meaningful gift given what we have learned about the corn beads. In the 1830’s, the Cherokee were rounded up from the hills of the Great Smoky Mountains and herded like cattle to the “Indian Territory” of North Carolina. This is called either “the Removal” or “The Trail of Tears”. The legend says that as they walked, their grief was so profound that as they wept, plants sprung up from their tears. The seeds of this plant look like tears and their color is that of grief. Cherokee today wear these “corn beads” in memory of the grief and horror of that time.
Isaiah shares his carvings
Catherine and her basket
The steps – finished as far as we could with the materials available.
The porch and roof we were able to construct.
Friday is often what we call the “fun day” on a mission trip. We try to take some time to learn more about the places we visit and the people who are there. This year was no exception. In fact, I’ve been on many trips to and through the Great Smoky Mountains, and I have never heard much mention at all of the Cherokee story. This year, that changed in a beautiful way. We started the day at the Ocunaluftee Indian Village, a “living museum” where re-enactors shared the Cherokee way of life before and since the Removal. We saw demonstrations of pottery making, weaponry, stonework, and more. Our group particularly enjoyed the traditional dances, and a few of us even took part in the same. In fact, the reason that there are no photos here is that your author was among those “whooping it up”! The group was unanimous in that the time spent at the village was amongst the best things we could do.
At the Village
Levi gave us a demonstration of how a “blow gun” works – accurate at up to 50 feet!
At the dancing ceremony
Following a quick lunch, we stepped it up a little bit in the adventure department and tried our luck tubing the Ocunaluftee River. Normally, this is a “lazy river” experience, and for much of the time, that’s what we had. However, with all the rains this area has had recently, the waters were higher and faster than normal, and so a few of the rapids were bumpy and some of us emerged with some new aches, pains, and scars. I think that at the end of the day, however, most everyone was glad that they’d tried it – whether the took the leap from the rope swing or not.
We ended our evening, and our week, with a devotion on “Wild Love” and the charge that we’ve been given to keep looking for love in the places to which we are sent. We heard from our graduating senior, Katie, and we prayed over her. Some of us might have cried… And it was good.
So now it’s all over but the packing and the long drive home… I’m so impressed with the ways that this group of young people has handled themselves in situations that were challenging to say the least. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for them in the years to come!