Sermon Podcast First Presbyterian Church Baker City: 2014

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

December 7, 2014 Mark 1:1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’” John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He preached, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” ************************************************************************************************************ I tried on ski boots a week ago, and hated the process. Walking over to the wall of left feet and then having to find a salesperson in order try on a right in my size, seemed an old fashioned sales tactic and an unnecessarily lengthy ordeal. Like a four year old, I just wanted to do it myself. The salesman came back with two boxes, placing them on the floor before me, like an offering, and then kneeling down he proceeded to take each right out, undo it’s clasps, remove the paper stuffed inside, and one at a time open them up like a card handing them over for approval to me sitting above him on the bench. I imagine this must have been what it would be like to be some sultan or king with surfs and servants and ladies in waiting, waiting on me hand and foot. It was the un-comfort of a serenade, the archaic chivalry of a proposal, the embarrassment of a compliment overly stated, and an all too generous gift. It assumes that one is greater than the other, and I reject this perception, but I know what John means, when he states, “I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.” I understand the scripture where passing through a crowd Jesus asks, “Who touched my robe?” and a woman shaking and scared comes forward with her confession of hope. She is more daring than I. I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the lace of his shoe or kneel and open up a ski boot like unscrewing a vile of Frankincense and lifting it to his nose. I understand John feeling unworthy, because the places I see Jesus, are beyond my power, and beyond my preparation. I cannot dawn a sunrise, or calculate when my knees will weaken with laughter unabandoned. I am always humbled by the thoughtfulness of someone following up after a slight mention of a hard time. I remain in awe of the wisdom of a good friend in simplifying complexities that keep me up at night, and I am eternally thankful for the bouncing dance of exuberant children and the quiet taste of lavender. These moments are beyond my power and beyond my preparation and to attempt would be to belittle their wonder. It is in this wonder I stand, and I can imagine why the wisemen followed that star, or the shepherds hurried off after the angels sang, or why John leapt in his mother womb at the company of Jesus in Mary’s or why the people flocked to the Jordan, or we to this story each year. It isn’t because John, or the wise men, or the shepherds, or we are worthy to follow, or hurry off, or leap, or even come to the bank. Because we aren’t, nor were they, but he was and is still coming. At the manger, at the Jordan, at the moment, they and we are to find him like a salesman, and Jesus will come back with two boxes, placing them on the floor before us, like an offering, and then kneeling down he will proceeded to take each right out, undo it’s clasps, remove the paper stuffed inside, and one at a time, open them up like a card handing them over for us to receive sitting above him on the bench. We are surely unworthy, but he still comes, just as he came then, and will come again.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

November 30, 2014 Mark 13:24 - 37

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

November 23, 2014 Ezekiel 34

Monday, November 17, 2014

November 16, 2014 Judges 4:1-7

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

November 9, Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

November 2, 2014 Joshua 3:7-17

The Lord said to Joshua, “This day I will begin to exalt you in the sight of all Israel, so that they may know that I will be with you as I was with Moses. You are the one who shall command the priests who bear the ark of the covenant, ‘When you come to the edge of the waters of the Jordan, you shall stand still in the Jordan.’” Joshua then said to the Israelites, “Draw near and hear the words of the Lord your God.” Joshua said, “By this you shall know that among you is the living God who without fail will drive out from before you the Canaanites, Hittites, Hivites, Perizzites, Girgashites, Amorites, and Jebusites: the ark of the covenant of the Lord of all the earth is going to pass before you into the Jordan. So now select twelve men from the tribes of Israel, one from each tribe. When the soles of the feet of the priests who bear the ark of the Lord, the Lord of all the earth, rest in the waters of the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan flowing from above shall be cut off; they shall stand in a single heap.” When the people set out from their tents to cross over the Jordan, the priests bearing the ark of the covenant were in front of the people. Now the Jordan overflows all its banks throughout the time of harvest. So when those who bore the ark had come to the Jordan, and the feet of the priests bearing the ark were dipped in the edge of the water, the waters flowing from above stood still, rising up in a single heap far off at Adam, the city that is beside Zarethan, while those flowing toward the sea of the Arabah, the Dead Sea, were wholly cut off. Then the people crossed over opposite Jericho. While all Israel were crossing over on dry ground, the priests who bore the ark of the covenant of the Lord stood on dry ground in the middle of the Jordan, until the entire nation finished crossing over. *************************************************************************************************************** Last week, I told you about something I knew, about funerals and Moses’ death before reaching the promised land, but this week, I want to tell you about something a little more ethereal. I want to tell about something that is more than a witness though I have. I want to tell you about something I believe and something in which I hope. I want to tell you about crossing over, about generations, and the promised land, because I am standing in the waters of the Jordan, bearing the ark of the covenant. As a priest I am charged with the weight and the witness of the promise of our Lord and I want to tell you I have seen the water stand in a single heap, and I have watched the people as they begin to enter the river Jordan, and cross to the point that they pass me by. I can’t tell you what happens on the other side, I am not there yet, but I can tell about crossing over. Draw near, and hear the words of the Lord your God. “When the people set out from their tents to cross over the Jordan, the priests bearing the ark of the covenant were in front of the people.” I remember my first death, it was on the Medical/Surgical Floor, the one that creates the smell in hospitals despite the disinfecting. I was a couple weeks in, as an intern hospital chaplain and had yet to get my feet wet. Jokingly my best friend Anne, would ask me almost daily, “Had I seen one yet,” referring to a dead body, and I would laugh, easing my fear, thankful for her crass humor. I didn’t know what one would look like, or feel like, and I all I could imagine was Hollywood cadavers and an upset stomach. Moreover, I worried so deeply about how I would respond, there was protocol to remember, about organ donation and death paperwork, but it simply tied to mask the fear of saying the wrong thing or not knowing what to do. The fear of being asked to lead the way on a path I had never before gone. My pager went off, and I called the number, and was told it was time to go be with the family. I could have walked down that corridor with tiny baby steps and entered the room with timid apologies, but it was one of those moments where you do what you were created to do, where something outside yourself meets something inside yourself and you go. I imagine it is what athletes hope to achieve, gymnasts on the beam, skiers on the hill, where something takes over and you just go. Joshua had given his command, “By this you shall know that among you is the living God,” and we, the clergy went to stand at the edge of the Jordan. I walked down that hospital hall with the strength it would have taken to bear the ark of the covenant, straight back, strong steps, and I entered that room on dry ground, somehow prepared to lead the family. It was large hispanic family, and the nurses had swayed the rules about how many people in the room, which was growing hotter by the minute. I stuffed myself in and they welcomed me, and I asked them to tell me stories of their father, grandfather, great-grandfather before us. I remember that he made kites for his children and grandchildren, and they told stories, and told him of their love, and when the telling seemed to come to a close, so to did his life, and I prayed. We prayed with the image of his Spirit lifting like kite, and we prayed for ourselves, with the present ritual comfort of the Lord’s Prayer. They held his hands, and kissed his cheeks, and taught me how to embrace the dead. The paperwork made sense, and the family slowly made their way, having watched him come to the middle of the Jordan. Since then I have watched many more, and I tell you despite the circumstances, be they in a home or the Emergency Room, a peace does come in the crossing over. It makes sense that death is compared to sleep, because people look so at rest, ever-so content, “They are truly beautiful in death,” I would later tell Anne. There is a crossing over, from this world to the next, and when they have passed me by, I know that they are living already in the promised land. I have seen it. I believe in it and I have the greatest hope in this. I don’t know what happens on the other side. But I have borne that ark, and I believe in its covenant, I believe in its promise, that God will be with us as we cross over, and that God will be there until the entire nation has finished crossing. I believe God has been there for your loved ones as they crossed, and will be there for your loved ones when they cross, and that God will be there for you as you cross, and that God will be with those who follow you. I believe in this, in this I have the deepest hope. I am carrying the ark, and I tell you the water has stood in a single heap, and the land has become dry ground. When we cross over, the covenant will be held there in the middle of the Jordan, and God’s promise will ever go before us, and will be with us for all generations. Perhaps too, this I know. Then the people crossed over opposite Jericho. While all Israel were crossing over on dry ground, the priests who bore the ark of the covenant of the Lord stood on dry ground in the middle of the Jordan, until the entire nation finished crossing over.