walls of injustice

All summer long, we'll be breaking down walls of injustice in our worship.

We labeled this wall in our prayer time a few weeks ago, and ever since, have been working at reminding ourselves how it is that Christ breaks down this wall, and gives us a better view of the Kingdom of God.

I'm excited about how good it will be to keep taking this wall down, and grateful for the many people who are going to help in that work. Mostly, you.

For the next 8 weeks, I'll be away on a renewal leave. I'll miss being in worship, but am excited about the plans already made for powerful and prophetic worship through the summer.

The blog will be even less-regularly updated, but Sunday worship will always be rich.

Hope you can be there!

grace and peace,
Molly

Pentecost

The Art of Flame
Originally uploaded by Jeremy-G

This week, we celebrate Pentecost--the birthday of the church. (And, concurrently, we're marking the 140th Anniversary at First UMC San Diego.) At Water's Edge, there will be bluegrass music (and I get to play spoons).

Pentecost is a bit wild: the Holy Spirit, like tongues of fire, rests on the apostles and gives them the ability to speak to a diverse crowd of people in a multitude of languages which are, for their hearers, everyone's native language.

Amazing.

They hear the same story, but in a mess of different sounds.

How beautiful that the beginning of our church life happened through a unity expressed in vividly diverse ways.

This gives me hope that the future of the church rests secure, as we continue to follow the Spirit's lead, making the good news of Jesus Christ visible in a wide variety of expressions and styles.

I've been excited by the United Methodist Church's new ad campaign, which asks us to "rethink church." Pentecost seems as good a time as any I know to remember that church is not a building, but a way of living. And our call is to be those 10,000 doors that open people to life in the Spirit. May it be so.

Extravagant Generosity

This week's practice is extravagant generosity. Which makes me think of a song in our hymnal:

Cuando el pobre nada tiene y aun reparte, cuando el hombre pasa sed y agua nos da, cuando el débil a su hermano fortalece, va Dios mismo en nuestro mismo caminar, va Dios mismo en nuestro mismo caminar.

When the poor ones who have nothing share with strangers, when the thirsty water give unto us all, when the crippled in their weakness strengthen others, then we know that God still goes that road with us, then we know that God still goes that road with us.

There's something powerful about the extravagance of generosity that God's love inspires in us--not so much that we always have impressively large sums to donate others, but that our giving makes a significant difference to us.

My dad has some favorite sayings related to giving. One of my favorites is an invitation to give until it feels good--somewhere past giving 'til it hurts is a joy that comes in being able to share something that matters to us.

Photo by Jack Hynes, shared through Creative Commons via Flickr.com

In Luke, Jesus tells the story of a woman who gave something that, from the outside, seemed insignificant; for her, it was everything.

Paul's second letter to the Corinthians, we're told how the Macedonian's joy and poverty somehow, mysteriously and miraculously, overflowed in a wealth of generosity.

I'm digging that phrase: a wealth of generosity. More than being about the measurable sum collected, their wealth lay in their spirit of giving. Surely, none would have need if we lived with a true wealth of generosity.

I do, however, think of the times when I have seen just this kind of spirit--courageous, risk-taking generosity inspires others to the same.

Intentional Faith Development

This Sunday, as we focus on intentional faith development as a practice that strengthens our church life, we also celebrate Mother's Day.

And, while Mother's Day is a relatively new holiday (in comparison to our ancient celebrations like the season of Easter), the practice of honoring our foremothers is not new. Our passage for this week from 2 Timothy tells of the important role a mother and grandmother played in shaping a life of faith, as Paul gives thanks for Timothy's mother Eunice, and grandmother, Lois.

As may be expected for a time a culture when women's roles were limited by a boldly patriarchal society, we know little about these two women; we learn, from Paul's mention of them, though, that their role in the shaping of their son and grandson's faith was critical.

In Deuteronomy, just after Moses has shared the central law that God gave on Mt. Sinai in what we've come to call the "Ten Commandments," Moses summarizes the law, and gives clear instruction to pass it on. "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might," he says, continuing that we should impress this on our children.

I've been intrigued with the phrase about how to teach them to our children. Some translations say to "impress them" on our children. Others read "teach them diligently." Or, simply, "recite them." The Hebrew word used, shanan, can be defined either as teaching diligently, or (as it's used more commonly in the Hebrew Bible) as having a slightly more visceral definition: something like whetting, piercing or incising. Tattoo them on your kids hearts, perhaps.

Photo by Piero Sierra, shared through Creative Commons via Flickr.com

This doesn't seem to be about the kind of teaching that might allow one to do well on a standardized test; this teaching comes with a kind of whole-self, lifelong demonstration of loving God.

I give thanks for those who have been models for me in this work--who teach by a way of living that models deep love for God and neighbor.

May it write this law incisively on my heart.

Risk-Taking Mission and Service

Our Scripture passages this week are two old favorites of mine:

The prophet Micah clarifies that faithfulness isn't about fancy worship, but about lives of humble service. "What does the Lord require of you? To do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God."

Then, in Matthew's gospel, Jesus clarifies what kind of criteria God might use in our judgment: how we treated the "least of these" in our midst.

Humility seems to be a key piece in both--a willingness to the unglamorous work of serving.

In a world when marketing strategies tell us that public service can be good for our "brand," when community service improves our college resumes, and when famous personalities are tapped for photo ops for non-profits, these passages seem to call us to something even more.

(Not that making service cool is a bad thing--I think it's pretty fabulous to lift up heroes who model serving others.)

These passages ask us to go a step further--to risk serving people who no one else would choose. Or to take the chance that our investment in another person won't solve their problems and doesn't necessarily depend on them doing things like we think they should.

Risk-taking mission and service also opens up the possibility that our service will change us, our ways of thinking and our priorities in life.

This is risky business.

I wonder what risks you've taken to be in mission and service?

Passionate Worship

Note: My apologies for not posting this sooner--I started it early last week, and then forgot to ever change it from "draft" to "published" status! Hopefully, it might still be fun conversation for this week...

Photo by Sean Dreilinger, shared through Creative Commons via flickr.com

Our scripture this week includes tale of a dramatic sea crossing and the rejoicing that followed from Exodus, as well as a story of prayerful singing in worship at a time of transition and hope from Luke's gospel.

Worship is a beautiful response to God's liberating work in the world. Both in a narrow escape in a time of very real danger and oppression (as in Exodus) and at a moment when God's salvation is finally incarnate (though still just a little baby), music gives form to thanksgiving, and expresses a joy that can be shared.

I'm especially moved by Simeon's song, the piece from Luke's gospel. Here, and old man gets a chance to meet Jesus--but not full-grown Jesus. He sees little, days-old baby Jesus. And then sings of the fulfillment of God's promise.

How wild to have such confidence and trust in a tiny newborn.

I think this is what I like about worship, though--it's our way of naming and celebrating the wonderful wholeness and salvation of God's kingdom, even though the best we can see these days are our little, tiny signs of grace. Fits and starts, as precarious as a newborn.

But, we gather, holding to what we know matters most, and we let it change us.

May it be so!

Radical Hospitality

Note: For the next five weeks, our whole congregation is going to be reading and praying about Five Practices for Fruitful Congregations. I encourage you to follow the link and participate with us. Our worship will focus on one practice each week. Then, on May 31, we will celebrate them all, as well as Pentecost (the birthday of the church!) and our congregation's 140th anniversary. This should be a rich time, as we look at what makes church "church," as we look at our past, and as we prepare ourselves for bearing good fruit into the future.

This week, we have two texts. One from Deuteronomy and one from the gospel of Luke, each with a lesson about what it means to offer hospitality.

In Deuteronomy, as God delivers the law that will be at the core of the relationship between people and God, we hear words that echo through scripture: that we should love God with our heart and soul. And, then, that we should care for the widows and orphans in our midst. And for the strangers, because we were once strangers in Egypt.

How wild that here, at the very heart of God's commandment, is the expectation that we offer hospitality and care. And that we acknowledge our own need for hospitality, too.

That we should welcome the "stranger" has pretty powerful implications in our own time. Other translations use terms like "alien" or "foreigner." Without regard to citizenship status.

I wonder who we're most called to offer hospitality to, today? Who ought we be welcoming, and how will we find ways of offering that hospitality?