Texas Mission Update 2018 #2

On Sunday, February 18, a team of seventeen folks representing The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights left Pittsburgh to travel to Houston, where we’re spending the week seeking to share something of ourselves with our neighbors who were struck by Hurricane Harvey in August 2017.  We are working in partnership with The Fuller Center for Housing in assisting residents south of Houston.

Tuesdays on a mission trip are often good days to get a lot of work done. Typically, Monday allows us to develop a sense of familiarity with the site, the work, and what could be called “the chemistry of the company”. We think we know a little better what to expect and are able to embrace it.

Our second day of the 2018 trip was a minor exception to that rule, mostly because the work on one of our sites had progressed so far on Monday that by mid-day, six of us were ready to transition to a new site. We took our lunch to the folks in Dickinson, and most of us remained to assist them in working on Carrie’s home. This was the site where Gabe’s van went on Monday, and in addition to seven folks from CHUP, there were five from a church in Boston MA and an equal number from a congregation in Silver Spring, MD. Normally, I’d run from a job site where there are nearly 30 people trying to contribute meaningfully, but this afternoon, by and large, it worked out all right. The sprawling ranch house had suffered so much damage in the flood that we were able to find a nook (or, in Mike and Jahn’s case, a closet) in which to work.

Mike emerges from the shadows of his closet…

Prime tasks for the day included continued demolition of damaged areas of the home, preparing the site for window installation, pulling wires and installing other electrical components, and hanging drywall.

Jamie uses a texture sprayer in finishing up the walls.

As the Good Book says, “Let brotherly love continue…”

Jahn said he was just screwing around today. He wasn’t being completely untruthful…

Would you trust these men to work on YOUR house?

One of the highlights of the day was when Carrie and her daughter stopped by to say hello. Josie was able to capture the look on her daughter’s face when she saw her new bedroom. She asked all of us to take a photo with her, and many of the people in our crew were able to spend some good time in informal conversations with mother or daughter. These interactions were so meaningful that they prompted our team to suggest forgoing the scheduled half day for Wednesday and spend additional time on the job site.

This is what it looks like when you lay eyes on what will soon be your “new room” for the first time.

Our crew, along with folks from Massachusetts and Maryland…

Although nearly everyone went to Dickinson, I should point out that two very dedicated women spent the entire day in the smallest room of the house we began on Monday. Lynn and Bonnie were found out to be tile installers of the highest order, and our hosts asked if there was any way we could delegate them to that site for the rest of today and tomorrow. While this created a different kind of experience for these women (being separated from the rest of the herd, so to speak), it also led to a quiet afternoon filled with personal conversation. They also had the opportunity to meet the owner of that home, which was a rich blessing.

Rub-a-dub-dub, two women in a tub…

Our dinner was fajitas with all the fixins and some amazing chocolate and strawberry trifle. Yeah…

We ended our program portion of the day with an opportunity to reflect on the insights of the work and other activities. We debriefed as a group, and the circle was alive with energy as each person sought to express appreciation with and for the opportunities we’ve been given. Some of us struggled with the fact that not everyone was skilled at the tasks required, but most of us came to the end of the day realizing that we’ve been blessed. Our scripture for the evening came from Romans 12:

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.

Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. To one there is given through the Spirit a message of wisdom, to another a message of knowledge by means of the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues, and to still another the interpretation of tongues. All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines.

Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body,so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.

Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.

Thanks for your prayers!  We’re glad to be connected!

Texas Mission Update 2018 #1

If it’s February, it must be time for the First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights to head south! For the tenth year in a row, a team from our congregation has headed for the Lone Star State, looking to invest some time and energy in helping communities heal from natural disaster, encouraging local congregations and ministries, and seeking to nurture relational growth amongst ourselves.

2018 presents us with a different opportunity: for the first time we did NOT head to the Rio Grande Valley. Instead, we stayed in the Houston area working with the The Fuller Center for Housing to help folks affected by the devastation of Hurricane Harvey in August of 2017. Not only that, we have more people on the team than ever before. There are seventeen people with some connection to CHUP, and we traveled in concert with another dozen from the John McMillan Presbyterian church.

Trying hard to remember that even though this guy was the only mechanic on duty on a holiday weekend, he was probably really good at his job…

Our departure from Pittsburgh was delayed for several hours by, of all things, a flat tire on the plane. Turns out that since it was the Sunday morning of a holiday weekend, the good people at SouthWest Airlines had only one mechanic on duty. Fortunately, that guy knew his stuff and he was able to change it out and we were airborne about three hours later than we’d planned. Our arrival in Houston was also somewhat surprising to the rental car companies, but they managed to round up some vans for us after a little friendly conversation.

 

Our teams went to the Webster Presbyterian Church, where we shared a meal with a large group of volunteers representing six or ten churches. After our orientation, we split up into four local churches for lodging. Our group of seventeen is all together at the Peace Lutheran Church in Texas City, Texas. We’ve got a room full of cots in their fellowship hall and plan to enjoy a great time of Texas hospitality here.

Our welcome meal at Webster

Home Sweet Home…

On Monday, we divided further. I drove one van to a home that is nearing completion. A disabled resident, living in an area apartment or hotel since the storm, is eager to re-enter her home. We spent the day finishing some painting, installing tiling, taping drywall, and other items on what essentially a “punch list” to get this home to the place where the resident can move in and resume her life again. We were guided by two local volunteers, Steve and Doug, who have been patiently and faithfully assisting this woman in her journey.

Susanna putting on the paint…

Colleen told me she was at her happiest when she was painting. Happy to oblige, ma’am!

Tim is, well, you know, painting…

A couple of Daves mixing it up with the concrete board…

Lynn planning out the tile.

Jamie and Bonnie prepping the bathroom.

Gabe took our other van with the remainder of the crew to a site where demolition and reconstruction was just beginning. At some time since the storm, there had been some repairs attempted but these were not up to code. Our folks today ripped down drywall, took out some flooring tile, and began to hang drywall in one room. One of our more energetic folks even managed to fall through the same plate glass window twice. Don’t worry, Marcy, he only got cut once… This team was pleased to have the opportunity to meet the homeowner, who stopped by with some cold drinks for the team.

Here’s Jon in front of “his” window. Ask him yourself…

Lindsay found a place for her hammer…

Gabe doing what Gabe does…

Jodie and Lindsay putting in the insulation!

Our work day ended with a fantastic meal served by our volunteer coordinator, Toni, as she and her colleague Aaron (the work site coordinator) served up some amazing BBQ chicken, brisket, sausage, and all the fixin’s. We ended our evening reading through I Corinthians 3, and talking about the fact that we are privileged to be here as servants – we participate in what God is doing here, but it is God’s doing. We are thrilled to be a part of someone else’s recovery from this disaster and eager to see how partnering together can help us share in the purposes of God in our lives and community.

What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed,Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. For we are co-workers in God’s service;you are God’s field, God’s building.

Thanks for the prayers!

Whaddya Call It?

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.

Hear our prayer, O Lord.

Amen.

Packing Light

My wife and I were raised in the faith community of the Trinity Presbyterian Church in Wilmington, DE.  As a part of their sixtieth anniversary this congregation invited me to preach the sermon on October 29, 2017.  Coincidentally, this was the room in which I was ordained to the ministry of the Word and Sacrament on October 28, 1990.  Perhaps NOT coincidentally, the worship service at Trinity on 10/29/17 began with the commissioning of a “Disaster Response Team” (ostensibly for relief in parts of West Virginia, but I have my suspicions that this had something to do with my ordination…).  The scriptures for the day, included in the audio portion, were Matthew 22:34-46 and Colossians 3:12-17.

To hear this sermon as preached in worship, please click the link below:

In her profoundly beautiful and deeply disturbing novel The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver tells the story of a fiery evangelical Baptist who leaves the hills of Georgia in 1959 in order to take his wife and his four young daughters to be missionaries in the Belgian Congo. The book opens with young Leah describing how the family packed for what they imagined would be a year in the heart of “the dark continent”. Her mother had spent weeks laying out what she thought of as “the bare minimum” in the spare room: Betty Crocker cake mixes, Underwood Deviled Ham, a dozen number two pencils, and so on. However, they encountered a challenge:

Just when we considered ourselves fully prepared and were fixing to depart, lo and behold, we learned that the Pan American Airline would only allow forty-four pounds to be carried across the ocean. Forty-four pounds of luggage per person, and not one iota more. Why, we were dismayed by this bad news! Who’d have thought there would be limits on modern jet-age transport? When we added up all our forty-four pounds together, including Ruth May’s—luckily she counted as a whole person even though she’s small—we were sixty-one pounds over…
We were nearly stumped. And then, hallelujah! At the last possible moment, saved. Through an oversight (or else probably, if you think about it, just plain politeness), they don’t weigh the passengers. The Southern Baptist Mission League gave us this hint, without coming right out and telling us to flout the law of the forty-four pounds, and from there we made our plan. We struck out for Africa carrying all our excess baggage on our bodies, under our clothes. Also, we had clothes under our clothes. My sisters and I left home wearing six pairs of underdrawers, two half-slips and camisoles; several dresses one on top of the other, with pedal pushers underneath; and outside of everything an all-weather coat. (The encyclopedia advised us to count on rain). The other goods, tools, cake-mix boxes and so forth were tucked out of sight in our pockets and under our waistbands, surrounding us in a clanking armor.[1]

Having led more than one planeload of would-be missionaries to Africa, I laughed when I read about the strategy of the Price family – because I know that it’s true. At the heart of that narrative is a question with which anyone who’s ever left home has struggled: How will we be able to survive in this new and foreign place without the things that we are sure we’ll need?

In fact, as I stand here thinking about that family and their struggle to enter a new place, I cannot help but reflect on the events that took place in this very room on October 28, 1990. Some very wise, thoughtful people representing both this congregation and the Church of Jesus Christ stood in front of the body that had assembled and testified that you, and they, had done everything possible to prepare me for a vocation in the pastorate. And they weren’t lying, I can tell you.

In 1990 – myself with my daughter, my father, and my wife.

I’d somehow managed to cram a three-year graduate degree into 8 years of study. I’d been to four seminaries, worked in three Presbyteries, and had already been employed by two different denominations. I had boxes and boxes of books that were filled with underlining and highlighting, a plethora of wall hangings, and files and files of paper. I belonged to caucuses within the church and had served on committees; I had stood up for issues and made sure that people knew my positions on the important matters of the day.

And when I stood in this chancel on that day, I felt like I had a lot to carry with me into this new land of ministry. It was a wonderful day in so many ways. My good friend Kate Killebrew Salmon preached a whale of a sermon, and then I knelt on the slate floor here and people like Stu Wysham and Barbara Price Martin put their hands on me and prayed and I felt the weight of all I’d been given and everything I’d carried with me, and it seemed as if my knees would be ground right into the floor.

But that day was not just about me – it was about this church sending one of its children into the world. And I think that for the church, it was a good day.

You came by it honestly, of course. Just a few decades before, you’d been started on a journey yourselves by the good and wise people of New Castle Presbytery. You found yourselves plopped down on a few acres in a growing area, and held the worship services in the old farmhouse.

Brandywine Hundred was up and coming in those days. There were plenty of new families moving into the community, and a number of them ended up here… and so the Venables and the Tills met folks like the McCoys and the Carvers and the Chubbs and the Smrz’s. There was a great opportunity for growth, and the church had to get crack-a-lackin if it was going to claim northern Delaware for Christendom and Presbyterianism.

You started in a farmhouse, but you had an entrepreneurial spirit and big ideas. Soon enough, we had the Naaman’s wing. There was space for worship, a giant tree under which we could enjoy lemonade in the warm weather, and the remnants of an orchard where I could pick cherries or pears or apples while I waited for my parents to quit talking and get me home to play.

Growth and fruitfulness were the order of the day, in fact. The sanctuary was added, and later on the “new building”, or the Darley wing, which contained all sorts of spiffy new rooms in which you trusted the likes of a teenaged Dave Carver to teach your second-graders their Sunday school lessons. It was a good place to be, and a fine place to grow up.

Trinity Presbyterian Church, like thousands of other congregations scattered across North America, functioned as a vendor of religious services to a culture that was overwhelmingly Christian. The hope, I believe, was to produce fine citizens and servant-leaders who had a heart for Jesus. I learned something about life and ministry and went to college where I continued to work with children and youth – although I will confess that a good bit of the time my early work with young people seemed to be about keeping “our” kids chaste and sober until they came to their senses and embraced the “faith of our fathers…”

Trinity Presbyterian, Dave Carver, and the entire North American church, by and large, did this because we were pretty convinced that the future would closely resemble the past. We built ministries around the culture and the landscapes that we knew. We filled our days and hours making sure that we were orthodox – that we had the right ideas and beliefs about the world, because we knew that having the correct answers mattered – it mattered a lot.

And then… the world changed. It didn’t happen overnight, necessarily, but it sure changed quickly and dramatically.

This church, and a thousand like it, was built in the expectation that people who had been faithful somewhere else would move into this neighborhood and continue to practice the orthodoxy they’d learned in some other place. We’d have kids, of course, and reach out to the few people who didn’t have a place to worship regularly (without being pushy, of course). Mostly, though, we’d keep doing what we’d always done, teaching the answers that had always worked so well for us.

Except it didn’t really work out that way, did it? I mean, when I stand at the corner of “Real Life” Avenue and “21st Century America” Street with my collection of diplomas, books, orthodox ideas and doctrinally correct positions, I am regarded with as much suspicion by the natives as was the Price family when they arrived in the Belgian Congo laden with Betty Crocker mixes, pinking shears, and Absorbine Jr.

And we – the church of Jesus Christ – have had to learn (again) that what matters most is not what we carry, but rather staying in touch with the One who sent us – to Brandywine Hundred, to Pittsburgh, and to 2017.

The Pharisees and Saducees who encountered Jesus on that day in temple were not bad people. Heck, if any one of them walked through the door this morning they’d probably be approached by the nominating committee in the hopes that they’d be willing to serve as an officer here. They were wise, seasoned believers who were trying desperately to keep the faith that they’d received from their ancestors. The problem, of course, was that the “faith” had been confused with a lot of other things, and by the time that Jesus entered the Temple, these decent men and women were holding on to all kinds of things that they did not need.

Matthew 21, 22, and 23 describe a series of encounters between Jesus and the religious leaders of his day. They wanted to see his diploma, check his orthodoxy, and make sure that he’d read all the right books. And in return, Jesus looked at them and said, “You guys are making this way harder than it needs to be. You know this stuff, for crying out loud. Love God with all that you are and with all that you have. And love your neighbor.”

Which isn’t so scary, really, in a world where my neighbor looks like me, believes like me, and votes like me.

And today, two thousand years later, there are decent women and men of faith who look at Jesus and say, “I hear what you’re saying, Lord, but to tell you the truth, my neighbor is a Muslim. My neighbor has three kids to three different fathers. My neighbor is an addict, or is homophobic, and I’m pretty sure that my neighbor voted for that person.”

We look at Jesus and we say those things as if we somehow expected Jesus to stop and say, “What? For real? Well, gee whiz, I never thought of that! Of course, if you’re going to love God, you can’t possibly be expected to tolerate people like that in your life…”

And some of us are so surprised by the fact that Jesus doesn’t take us off the hook that we simply pretend that he says all that stuff anyway.

But of course, he leaves us on the hook. He tells us to travel light. He keeps on asking us to trust him more than we trust the books that line the walls of my study… to trust him more than we trust our own ideas or inclinations.

Jesus Sends Out the 72, by James Tissot

And we remember that when Jesus sent anyone anywhere, he never said, “Hey, make sure you take an extra suitcase of good stuff, because you never know what kind of knuckleheads you’re going to run into out there…” He told us to pack lightly, and to trust that the One who was sending us would make a way for us when the time was right.

Listening to and following Jesus can be way scarier than anything you’ve got planned for Halloween. But I think that the only way to stay rooted in the Divine intention is to practice that kind of faithfulness.

When I take a group to Africa, I tease them about the 17 bottles of sunscreen, or the rolls of Duct tape, or the boxes of granola that they cram into their suitcases. I tell them about the Price family and The Poisonwood Bible.

But as I consider how Leah Price and her sisters layered up before they got on the airplane, I remember the words of Paul that invite us to take small suitcases but to wear lots of layers. “Put on”, says the old saint, “layer upon layer of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and forgiveness. Don’t pack these away – wear them every day. And at all times, keep yourself wrapped in love for God and neighbor.”

There’s one thing that I have carried ever since October 28, 1990. So far as I know, it’s never gone out of style and it never will. It’s a tiny communion kit that was handed to me by Carson Herr as a gift from this congregation. It’s gotten beaten up. It’s tarnished and dented. The felt inside the case is getting threadbare, and the outside is held together by Duct tape and replacement hinges. The original plastic bottle wore out and sprung a leak about a decade ago.

But whenever I use it, or see it, I remember the words I learned here. Do this. Do this – offer yourself in love to the people who need what you have because you remember how God, in Christ, has offered God’s self to you. Do this in remembrance of me.

I can’t find my diplomas. I lost a lot of books when my study flooded in 2010. I’ve changed my mind on a lot of issues. But this? Well, I think it’s all I need.

And, thanks be to God, you have one too. May God bless you in the next sixty years of doing, remembering, and loving. And don’t forget to layer up when you go out there. Amen.

 

[1] The Poisonwood Bible (Harper paperback, 2003, pp. 16-18).

A Scary Prayer

On Sunday, August 13, the people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights commissioned Lauren Mack for a year of mission service teaching in Malawi, Central Africa.  Our scriptures for the day were Psalm 62:5-8 and Ephesians 3:14-21.  

To hear the message as preached in worship, please click on the link below:

As I begin the message, I am curious as to what we are actually doing here this morning. We are “commissioning” Lauren. We are sending her off. Why? What for? What are our hopes for Lauren Alaina Mack as she leaves Pennsylvania and heads to the Central African nation of Malawi, where she will spend a year teaching at the St. Andrews’ Mission Secondary School?

In each pew, you’ll find a pencil and some paper. Take a few moments now and just jot down your hopes for Lauren, and, if you know her, Brooke Merry in the next 12 months. What are your prayers for them? What do you hope will happen in their lives?

Now, think about the kinds of things you wrote down.   What do you hope for?

I want you to hold onto those cards for a moment as we continue.

As I thought about this service, and this message, and the scriptures at hand, I thought about my prayers for these two beautiful young people. Almost instinctively, I am praying that God would keep them SAFE. I’m praying that they’ll have a good time in Malawi. I’m praying that they’ll do a good job at the St. Andrew’s Missionary Secondary School, and that the kids will know more about English, and life skills, and Jesus when Lauren and Brooke get through with them…I pray that they will make a difference in Africa, and that Africa will make a difference in them.

And, you say to yourself, “Self, those are pretty good prayers. I see why he’s getting paid so much to be the pastor here…”

Paul had known the Ephesians for awhile, but not as long as I’ve known Lauren. He was praying for them as they tried to be faithful to their calling in a place that was plagued with difficulties. What does Paul pray for?

He prays in verse 16 that Jesus will strengthen the Ephesians in their inner beings SO THAT those hearts would be fit places in which Christ could dwell. He prays in verse 17 – 19 that the Ephesians, who already know something about love, will continue to be shaped and molded by that love so that…so that what? So that they will be able to grasp and to know the love of God – so that in that knowing they might be filled with the very fullness of God.

That Paul, he’s a sneaky one. You’ve got to keep your eye on him – I’m telling you.

Let’s look at my prayers. My prayers tend to be outcome-based. I want the people that I pray for to be well taken care of. I want them to have good jobs, happy marriages, and to be successful. Even when I say that I want them to make a difference, I’m saying that I want them to be able to get to the end and say, “There! I’ve done it! What next?”

But Paul? This guy is a dangerous pray-er. A far more dangerous pray-er than I ever will be. Paul’s prayer is that at the end of the day, the Ephesians will end up knowing something – being filled with something, namely, the fullness of God himself. Why is that so bad? Because whereas my prayers end up at the finish line, Paul’s prayers end up at the starting line. He prays that when it’s all said and done, the people he loves will be ready for something; that they’ll be equipped for something; that they’ll be poised and filled and eager.

Let me tell you a little something about the church of Central Africa: Presbyterian – the partners to whom we are sending Lauren. It was founded by a group of young Scottish missionaries who had become enthralled by the stories they heard from the Rev. David Livingstone. After Livingstone’s death in Central Africa, Henry Henderson became the leader of the first mission to Malawi in 1876. He, along with the other leaders of that trip, John Bowie and Robert Cleland, were dead within fifteen years.

You may already know this, but the earliest missionaries from Scotland to Malawi didn’t pack their things in suitcases. They packed their things in coffins. Why? Why would they do that? Well, for starters they were just being realistic. It was dangerous. Most of them died over there, and so packing your clothes in a coffin was simply an efficient way to get everything from point A to point B.

But there’s more to it than that, I think. I think that another reason why they took their coffins along was that they were pretty sure that Malawi was their last stop. They were called to go to Malawi, and they went, thinking that Malawi was where things would end up for them. Again, if that’s the case, then taking along a coffin is simply the prudent thing to do.

But Lauren, you won’t be packing your gear in a coffin (although if you log onto casketxpress.com you can get a good deal!). You’ll be more likely to have Samsonite or American Tourister. Why? Because you have budgeted for a return ticket already. We have every reason to expect that you’ll be showing up at the airport a year from now and that you’ll be back in this room at that point. Many of us will plan to meet you here, in fact.

So this trip of yours is really just a temporary situation. It’ll be over before you know it. The blink of an eye. Twelve months – that’s nothing – heck, I used to go that long without shaving.

And that’s why my prayers are deficient. Because if I am praying for you to have accomplished something, to have been kept safe, to have arrived somewhere…then I’m only praying a twelve-month prayer. Hardly seems worth the breath, does it?

But what if each one of us, every day, prayed like Paul? What if we prayed that when we all get together here and celebrate the Lord’s day when Lauren returns, we’d be ready for something bigger? That we’d be so infused with the love of God, so captivated by the presence of God, so filled with the fullness of God that it would make us about ready to burst out of our skins? What if we prayed that come August, you’ll have finished your mission work in Malawi for the year, but that each of us will be different and each of us will be equipped and receptive for God’s next call on our lives?

Ah, not so fast, Carver. How can you just throw away a sentence like, “a year is nothing…” I bet that it that was your kid buying that airline ticket you’d be singing a different song. How in the world are we supposed to be able to let go of those wonderful, practical prayers that we’ve come to expect from Pastor Dave and risk the dangerous prayers of Paul? How can we be free to be ready to live like that? How can we think of ourselves as NOT marching towards a magical finish line when everything will be “back to normal”?

I think the answer to that lies in the first scripture reading that you heard this morning. Did you hear what David read for us? “He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.”

Do you see? If it’s up to us; if I’m out there trying to protect myself, to prepare myself, to figure out where in the world I’m supposed to be, then there’s no way that I’ll ever be able to let down my guard enough to listen to the wise counsel that comes from God. But if I really believe that it all depends on God; if I really believe that there’s nothing that is going to hit me that I can’t survive with God’s help; that there’s no problem too big for God to get me through, that God has my back…then I can spend all of my energy on getting ready for being the person that God has for me to be, and I’ll trust that God will get me where he needs me when he needs me.

Lauren, I have to tell you this: it’s going to be a shock when you come back from Malawi than next August. You’ll leave a community in which you will find church after church packed with joyful people who have a hunger for God that compels them to show up for worship as early as 5:45 a.m. just so they get a seat…and you’ll return to a culture where bored looking people show up in church twice a year in an attempt to win some brownie points with God, with their mothers, or who knows what other reason… You’ll leave a nation where children carry their pencil – their one pencil – back and forth to school every day as if it were gold, and come back to a flurry of “back to school” sales that will make your head spin. You may have heard me mention that I was so overwhelmed by the cultural shock of affluence and choice when I returned from my first trip to Malawi that I could not go grocery shopping. The day I got back, I ran up to Shop & Save to grab a few things, but when I got to the toilet paper aisle I was overcome with grief or sadness or something… I stood there trying to figure out which was the best deal for toilet tissue, and how I could save money, and my mind was filled with images of the people I’d left behind in Malawi – people who had real difficult choices to make, and here I was trying to figure out it if was better to get Charmin or Cottonelle… And so I left a full cart of groceries in the paper products aisle at Shop N Save because I just couldn’t cope with it. Nope, I don’t envy you coming back when you come back.

And it would really stink if you went to Malawi for twelve months and then you came back in August and MY prayers were answered. Man, would THAT make for a miserable Autumn. Why? Because you’d be spending all your time thinking about all the ways that Crafton Heights isn’t Ntaja; you’ll be missing the vibrancy of that worship; heck, you’ll even miss nsima and chicken…if you got to August and thought that you were done.

But what do you think would happen to you, and to us, if in the next twelve months PAUL’S prayers were answered? THEN we’d be looking forward to an incredible 2019. Why? Because your time away will have prepared you for whatever is next for you HERE. Because your time away will prepare your friends and relatives to see you in a new light and to invite you to new challenges and new opportunities and new horizons…because instead of being finished with mission, you’ll be even better prepared for it.

So, Lauren, Glenn, Cheri…whose prayers are we going to lean on? The relative safety of Pastor Dave’s “keep an eye on ‘em, OK God?” Or the outrageous risk of Paul’s “Make us all ready, God, for the work that you have for each of us”?

So here’s what I want you to do…I want you to take that card on which you have written your prayers for Lauren and Brooke. And I want you to turn it over and write out “Ephesians 3:14-21” on it. And I want you to pray that prayer for Lauren. And for Brooke. And for me. And for you.

Thank God for bold prayers and for those who are led into them. Thank God for the call that comes to the church. Thank God for the ability to respond – in this neighborhood, in Malawi, and in every place in between. Amen.

To learn more about Lauren’s trip in Malawi, or to follow her adventures, please check in with her blog. Lauren’s fellow traveler, Brooke, can be found here!

2017 Youth Mission Update #4

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.

Delicious!

 

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!

Cherokee Youth Mission Update #1

The New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia is a favorite stop on our way out of Pittsburgh.

The Youth Group from the church/Open Door is spending the week at the Qualla Boundary with the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Indians. We are staying at the Cherokee United Methodist Church, and we came in order to encounter aspects of the culture, our faith, ourselves, and our world in order to learn something about being more fully God’s people in this world. To get here, we left Crafton Heights immediately after church on Sunday and drove approximately ten hours south.

These smiles kept us going all day long! 521 miles!

The PLAN was to spend this day laying the groundwork for the construction of a deck and porch for a family in need. However, for the first time in memory, we’ve had a day that is simply a “rain out”. Buckets and buckets of water poured across the Great Smoky Mountains, and we were forced to adapt our plan. We spent the morning wandering through the Museum of the Cherokee Indian, which contained a number of informative displays concerning the history and culture of the people who lived here when the Europeans showed up in North America. We learned about pottery, games (like stickball and lacrosse), and handicrafts; we saw something impressive about the empowerment that the Cherokee traditionally accorded to the women in their midst; and we were saddened to read of “the removal”, or the “Trail of Tears”. In fact, the church in which we’re staying is the oldest Native American congregation in the Eastern USA, and it boasted about 440 members in the year prior to the “removal”. Three years later, the church had only 40 members.

I was haunted by this quote in the museum…

We spent the afternoon, in Paige’s words, “pretending it’s a retreat: let’s get to know each other!” You might have enjoyed working a puzzle or playing Apples to Apples; I know I got a kick out of Tim doing his best Jimmy Stewart impression to a group of adolescents who have absolutely no idea who Mr. Stewart is.  When the weather gave us a little bit of a break we took a quick trip to measure out our job site and a brief hike to the beautiful Mingo Falls.

A little “Apples to Apples” on a rainy Monday!

Mingo Falls

 

The Group at the Falls

If the success of the trip is measured in how much wood gets cut or how deep the holes we dig are, well, today was a washout. But if we’re here to encounter and be encountered, well, then – today was a success.   And hey – no splinters!