My First Sermon

Evergreen Community at the Lucky Lab Pub in the Pearl District

In my last post I wrote about finally being in a church with egalitarian views and practices. I had just delivered my first sermon in my own home church. It was a moment of healing and redemption considering what my journey had been to get there. 

On the Monday following I met with the lead pastor and we made a plan for me to grow as a preacher. He also gave great encouragement as well as constructive criticism. I am EXCITED and GRATEFUL for the opportunity.

Many friends asked if the church had recorded my sermon but apparently something went wrong so there isn't a way to listen to it. (It may be cool to meet in a local pub in Portland on Sunday morning but the audio-visuals are challenging.) So the best I can do is offer the written form of my sermon which is definitely longer than I normally post for my blog. 

P.S. Most of the questions I ask in the sermon are actually not rhetoric. I am able to engage the people in conversation and responses which I thoroughly enjoy since my main spiritual gift is teaching. Also, after communion, I went back up to ask the closing question asked every Sunday by the preacher: "What do you hear God saying to you this morning?" I love this part of the service!

So here it is, my sermon from Luke 3.

In early December an article was published in the Daily Beast after an interview with a Portland businessman named Grant Chisholm. Chisholm does street preaching on the side.

The writer said this about him: “According to his sidewalk rhetoric, God hates strip clubs, “homosex”, Catholics, football, and probably most Portland residents.”

The title of the article was “The Hipster Fred Phelps,” meaning Fred Phelps of Westboro Baptist, the ultra-conservative church with the website "godhatesfags.com." They also made national news when they picketed military funerals. 

But Chisholm’s stated opinion was that Phelps was a horrible person. He told the interviewer, “He’s a hate-monger. I absolutely despise his existence.”

A follow up article in the Oregonian a few weeks later revealed that as a result of the connection to Phelps, there's been a call in Portland to boycott Chisholm’s business. The article described the painful economic and emotional toil on him. But in the article Chisholm admits this:

“I love controversy. I love arguing. I love being in people’s faces because then I see more evidence of lives being changed than I ever did handing out sandwiches or free haircuts.”

I don't want to judge his motives so let’s assume that Chisholm loves God and sincerely cares for people's souls. What is your response to this? Or to any street preacher you run into? What feelings or tensions do you have when you listen to hellfire and damnation preaching? (Responses ranged from admiration to embarrassment to rejection from the congregation.)

This morning we will be taking a look at Luke 3, a pivotal chapter in this gospel. We'll be reading the story of John the Baptist the way Luke tells it. I have heard some preachers refer to John to support their confronting style.

I’ll just say up front I don’t believe Luke is giving anyone permission to use John as a model of preaching, at least not in the way people typically understand him. Pay attention to any details that stand out to you as we read the passage.

Luke 3:1-20

It was now the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius, the Roman emperor. Pontius Pilate was governor over Judea; Herod Antipas was ruler over Galilee; his brother Philip was ruler over Iturea and Traconitis; Lysanias was ruler over Abilene. Annas and Caiaphas were the high priests.

At this time a message from God came to John son of Zechariah, who was living in the wilderness. Then John went from place to place on both sides of the Jordan River, preaching that people should be baptized to show that they had repented of their sins and turned to God to be forgiven. 

Isaiah had spoken of John when he said,

“He is a voice shouting in the wilderness,‘Prepare the way for the Lord’s coming! Clear the road for him! The valleys will be filled, and the mountains and hills made level. The curves will be straightened, and the rough places made smooth. And then all people will see the salvation sent from God.’”

When the crowds came to John for baptism, he said, (This is where I had a little fun. I got up on a footstool and yelled at the top of my lungs this part of John's rant along with some finger pointing.)“You brood of snakes! Who warned you to flee God’s coming wrath? Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. (I quit yelling and got down after this, not wanting to push my luck.)

Don’t just say to each other, ‘We’re safe, for we are descendants of Abraham.’ That means nothing, for I tell you, God can create children of Abraham from these very stones. Even now the ax of God’s judgment is poised, ready to sever the roots of the trees. Yes, every tree that does not produce good fruit will be chopped down and thrown into the fire.”

The crowds asked, “What should we do?” John replied, “If you have two shirts, give one to the poor. If you have food, share it with those who are hungry."

Even corrupt tax collectors came to be baptized and asked, "Teacher, what should we do?" He replied, "Collect no more taxes than the government requires."

“What should we do?” asked some soldiers. John replied, “Don’t extort money or make false accusations. And be content with your pay.”

Everyone was expecting the Messiah to come soon, and they were eager to know whether John might be the Messiah. John answered their questions by saying, “I baptize you with water; but someone is coming soon who is greater than I am—so much greater that I’m not even worthy to be his slave and untie the straps of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. He is ready to separate the chaff from the wheat with his winnowing fork. Then he will clean up the threshing area, gathering the wheat into his barn but burning the chaff with never-ending fire.”

John used many such warnings as he announced the Good News to the people.

What are some things that jump out at you in this passage? What comparisons or contrasts would you make between Chisholm and John? What questions come to mind as you read this?

Let's work our way through the passage as best we can. I can't unpack it thoroughly but I want to highlight some thoughts including the ones you have offered.

Historical Setting (Luke 3:1-2a)

I’m not going to go into detail on who all these people were and what their titles meant but there are a couple of things to understand from this list.

First of all the historical details tell us that Israel was in a really bad place. They were suffering under tremendous political oppression under Roman rule. In fact they had been under foreign domination for nearly 800 years.

There also was turmoil in the religious community. Several groups including the Pharisees and Sadducees were competing with each other on what it meant to obey God and how they could go back to being one nation under God or rather how they should respond to Roman rule.

Also apocalyptic literature was flourishing during this period. Along with their dualistic views of good vs. evil and God vs. Satan, apocalypticists warned that the end of the age was coming soon and the Jews would finally be vindicated. But it wasn’t going to be pretty.

It had been 400 years of silence since the last prophet or visitation from Yahweh. The people were losing hope and getting desperate. The biggest question on their minds was, “Has Yahweh abandoned us and forgotten his promises to Israel?”

John’s Calling (Luke 3:2b-3)

In the midst of oppression, poverty and a spiritual wilderness, John enters the landscape with the voice of a prophet. Considering their history of failure as a nation, prophets usually equaled judgment. Meaning not so warm and fuzzy messages.

So the word of God comes to John setting him apart as a prophet. But this time the message seems different, even hopeful, maybe comforting. Really Harriet? Where do you get that? OK so let me explain why street preachers shouldn’t use John as support for their rhetoric.

Everything about John was different. And not just his camel hair vest and diet of locusts and honey, a description Luke doesn’t even bother including. Of course, John would have fit just fine in the Portland scene.

His baptism was not what they were used to. Up to now the Jews understood baptism as either a repeated ritual for cleansing from sins or as an outward expression for Gentiles who converted to the Jewish faith, similar to how we view baptism in the church today.

But I don’t believe this is what John’s baptism meant. His was a unique baptism because of his unique calling during a unique historical context. He was born to prepare the people for the arrival of the Messiah.

And John’s message was different too. The repentance John called for was much deeper than just a rejection of sins and a change in behavior.

John’s role was to prepare the people to take a certain heart posture that said, “I will abandon my ways to find security, wholeness and even favor with God and I will be ready to walk the new path God is providing back to Himself.”

Darrell Bock in his commentary on Luke describes John this way:

His ministry in the Jordan River region is designed to get people ready for the arrival of God’s salvation by having hearts open to respond to the coming Messiah.

Isaiah 40 (Luke 3:4-6)

Understanding John as a prophet and transitional figure is so important that 3 out of the 4 gospels connect him to Isaiah 40. But by quoting a few verses from there, the gospel writers intended to use the broader Old Testament passage to inform the reader. For a culture that relied on oral history, these quotes were meant to stimulate the memory to make deeper connections to past history and writings.

If you’ve read the book of Isaiah you know that there is a major thematic break between chapters 39 and 40. Isaiah chapters 1-39 is all doom and gloom, judgment and wrath for the Jews. Then suddenly, the tone and content changes in chapter 40.

Let’s read some key passages from Isaiah 40 and see if anything that helps us understand John’s message in a different light:

“Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem. Tell her that her sad days are gone and her sins are pardoned. Yes, the Lord has punished her twice over for all her sins.” (40:1-2)

Then comes the passage quoted in Luke:

Listen! I hear the voice of someone shouting, "Make a highway for the LORD through the wilderness. Make a straight, smooth road through the desert for our God. Fill the valleys and level the hills. Straighten out the curves and smooth off the rough spots. Then the glory of the LORD will be revealed, and all people will see it together. The LORD has spoken!" (40:3-5)

Verse 9 offers the first OT reference to the “good news” or gospel:

Messenger of good news, shout to Zion from the mountaintops! Shout louder to Jerusalem -- do not be afraid. Tell the towns of Judah, "Your God is coming!" Yes, the Sovereign LORD is coming in all his glorious power. He will rule with awesome strength. See, he brings his reward with him as he comes. He will feed his flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young. (40:9-11)

The crowds in our story have been living in the first half of Isaiah, in the doom and gloom. John’s job is to transition them to the second half, to bring comfort and hope not fear. God is a shepherd, not a judge. He has not abandoned them. He has seen their troubles and things are about to change. Just not in the way they expected.

Luke is the only one who quotes a few more verses from Isaiah 40 than the other gospels do. (Luke 3:5-6) Last week Dustin pointed out the bookends of the theme that God’s salvation is for all nations which can be found at the beginning of the gospel and the end of Acts of Luke's two-volume set. This theme is found again in these verses from Isaiah 40 with the metaphor of leveling the landscape so all peoples will see God’s salvation.

But there’s a twist in the plan of salvation. The leveling is not quite so benign. Leveling requires the removal of the obstacles and the obstacles turn out to be the Jews themselves. The plan of saving all nations will have collateral damage, not by God’s choice but by their choice. His own people will reject Jesus and this becomes the means for saving the world.

Let me insert a caveat here. I recognize that not all Jews rejected Jesus. Many believed and became disciples. So I am referring to the rejection mostly of those in power, especially the religious leaders.

The cause for Jesus’ rejection is Luke’s secondary theme. Whereas the other gospel writers build up to Jesus’ rejection, Luke introduces it much earlier – we see in the next chapter when Jesus is nearly thrown off the cliff in his hometown.

Confrontation (Luke 3:7-9)

In this next section of our passage we get a clue to the “why” of the rejection. These verses are also found in Matthew nearly word for word except for one detail. Matthew identifies the “snakes” as being the Pharisees and Sadducees. But Luke says “the crowds”. Why does the difference?

Because a broader group fits into Luke’s theme of how Israel as a nation will respond to God’s new plan. John’s rebuke to the crowds is pointed to all the Jews who are relying too heavily on their connection to Abraham to be spared God’s wrath, a wrath that is probably being preached more by the apocalypticists than John who is preaching hope from Isaiah 40.

Luke makes clear God’s new plan has nothing to do with heritage. The old covenant tree, the Law, never produced the fruit God intended and it must be cut down. This is an obstacle to be removed from the landscape to bring God’s salvation to the nations. And most of the Jews are not going to accept this.

Practical application (Luke 3:10-14)

Luke goes on to describe a scene that is only in his gospel – the response of the crowds. Their question is a direct response to John’s exhortation to “prove by the way they live that they have repented of their sins and turned to God.” I personally prefer the more literal translation: “Produce fruits worthy of repentance.”

As you imagine the scene in your mind, you don’t get the sense that John is targeting any specific sins except one – relying on their Jewish ethnicity to save them. Now a sense of panic sets into the crowds.

Their question “What should I do?” becomes the natural response to being told Judaism is no longer the path to God’s favor.

John can’t answer, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved” since Jesus hasn’t started his ministry yet. So he tells them, the kind of fruit that is worthy of repentance is the kind that shows how well you treat others.

The Jews should not have been too surprised by John's answers. Everything from the Torah was intended to impact their relationships with their neighbor in a redemptive way.

In essence I believe his answer means this, “The Messiah is soon coming with salvation. While you're waiting for him, one thing has never changed in his plan. Those that want to show they are on board with God, that they have repented and turned to God, can obey what he has always commanded: Love your neighbor.”

Interestingly only Luke tells the well-known parable of the Good Samaritan in which Jesus identifies the good neighbor – it’s the one who shows mercy.

In each of John’s responses you see that the nature of one’s fruit is specific to the individual and their particular sphere of influence or impact.

I don’t hear a voice of condemnation or judgment. I hear a preacher responding to people who are trying to process this shocking news.

Luke is very much concerned with social justice issues, which you see throughout his gospel and into Acts where the young church shares all their possessions with each other so no one is needy. But Luke is careful to address social justice from the beginning point of a repentant heart. The heart behind any social action should be, “I am just as much in need of mercy as the person I am feeding.”

If you notice, you don’t know if the crowds followed through with John’s suggestions. The question still hangs in the air, “What should I do?” Both John's and Luke’s ultimate answer is:

Look at Jesus. Listen to Jesus. Soften your hearts towards Jesus.

Unfortunately, we know later in Luke that the Jews reject that answer. They repeat the mistake of Isaiah 30:15:

The Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says, "Only in returning to me and waiting for me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength. But you would have none of it.

John the Messiah? (Luke:15-18)

The people sense that things are about to change, so they think John must be the Messiah. But John quickly squashes the rumor that his baptism is the end game. He points to the Messiah who has a greater baptism, a baptism of the HS and fire, which anticipates the Day of Pentecost.

I interpret the metaphor of the threshing floor to mean the same thing as the ax at the root of the tree. Jesus’ baptism is the real deal now, the wheat, not the chaff of the OT system, a new branch not the old tree of the Law. This repeated warning again sets up Luke’s explanation of Jesus’ rejection. The religious leaders are not going to like this twist in God’s plan.

Luke further foreshadows Jesus’ rejection by telling us of John’s not-so-happy ending (Luke 3:19-20):

John also publicly criticized Herod Antipas, the ruler of Galilee, for marrying Herodias, his brother’s wife, and for many other wrongs he had done. So Herod put John in prison, adding this sin to his many others.

Jesus' Ministry (Luke 3:21-23)

Here is the turning point of Luke’s story – the beginning of Jesus’ ministry that will now take center stage.

One day when the crowds were being baptized, Jesus himself was baptized. As he was praying, the heavens opened, and the Holy Spirit descended on him in the form of a dove. And a voice from heaven said, "You are my beloved Son, and I am fully pleased with you. " Jesus was about thirty years old when he began his public ministry.

In this one brief description of Jesus' baptism, all three persons of the Trinitarian Godhead are present. But all eyes are only on one - Jesus, the dearly loved Son of God.

What is going to play out in Luke’s gospel is the inconceivable but historical event that heaven meets humanity in the form of the God-man Jesus.

So Jesus comes to John to be baptized. Does this raise a question for you? It did for John. We know from Matthew that John wanted Jesus to baptize him. But Jesus insists John do the baptizing. Here's the question: Was Jesus baptized as an expression of repentance? Well, yes and no. I see the significance of Jesus’ baptism as two-fold.

First, as a connection to the OT through John. We get this from Matthew’s account where Jesus tells John he needed to be baptized in order to fulfill all righteousness. Jesus is the fulfillment of the hope and promises of God given in the Old Testament, especially Isaiah 40.

And second, yes, as a baptism of repentance…but not from sins. This is where we need a deeper, more robust understanding of repentance. Remember, the essence of repentance is not a change in behavior or remorse for sins, though it certainly can include those aspects. It's much more than that.

The essence of repentance is a posture of the heart, a heart ready to respond to God and Jesus does that without sinning. In the rest of the gospel we see Jesus living a human life with a heart always turned upward, in complete obedience to the Father and dependence on the HS. Jesus did not repent or turn away from sin because he was sinless. But he set aside, or “turned away from” his divine powers (see Philippians 2) and lived humbly and obediently as a human.

Luke gives us a glimpse this heart orientation toward God by telling us the heavens opened while "he was praying," a detail left out of the other gospels. In fact Luke has more references to Jesus praying than any other gospels.

Genealogy (Luke 3:23b-38)

I want to stop here because what’s next is a genealogy that’s no fun to read out loud but it’s still significant in Luke’s overall purpose to his gospel. There are a number of differences between Luke’s genealogy and Matthew’s, which I don’t have time to get into. But one main difference is important.

Matthew starts with Abraham and moves forward through David to Jesus but Luke goes backward in time... through David... past Abraham... and on to Adam.

Luke’s main point is to connect Jesus to Adam to prove he is fully human and representative of all humanity. By linking Jesus to the first Adam, Luke subtly but forcefully moves past the arrogance of those who think their connection to Abraham gives them a privileged and protected place in God’s plan.

But he doesn’t stop with Adam. Luke keeps going and says Adam was the “son of God,” an echo of the voice from heaven at Jesus’ baptism. With his genealogy, Luke drives home the point that God from the beginning of creation has had all of humanity in mind in his plan of salvation.

He also spells out the ultimate reason for Jesus’ rejection. Jesus is fully human as son of Adam, but also fully divine as son of God. And the Jews are really not going to like this.

So what I see in John’s life is not a model of preaching hellfire and damnation. When I listen to him I don’t hear words of wrath but words of comfort and hope. When I hear the word “repent” I don’t hear a judgment but an invitation to be open to God’s plan and presence. When I consider what sins require repentance, I shouldn’t think about a certain list of sins, which only give me reason to think I am superior to others who have greater sins.

I should think first about one sin, one that levels the playing field – my efforts to control my own life or as a friend of mine likes to say, "my way rather than Yahweh." Yeah, I groaned too whenever he said that.

When I look at Jesus I see God who enters into humanity to show us how to become more human the way he created us to be, to model dependence on God through the HS, to walk with us in the midst of our dark places, to show us God’s heart, not one of wrath, but of compassion, gentleness and humility.

It took me a long time to really believe this for myself. I have a personal metaphor of a dark tunnel to describe the difficult periods of my life. I’ve learned that every tunnel has an end where I come out into the light, even if the tunnel is life threatening and the end is stepping into eternity, something that helped as I journeyed with my sister and her cancer until she passed away last spring.

It’s not so much the end that causes me to doubt. What’s difficult is knowing how to walk in the dark until I get there. I have the type of personality that says, “I will figure it out myself. I will fix whatever is broken.” And then my strategies don’t work and I am miserable and angry. Or in one dark tunnel that lasted 7 years, I lost my faith. What I have discovered in each tunnel is that repentance from my strategies opens the door to God’s presence. His wisdom, strength and love are all the light I need while I finish the tunnel with him.

Communion

From our passage this morning, I invite you to consider two questions. 

(1) What is my heart posture today? 

(2) And what should I do?

These questions are the starting point for every single one of us whether you're contemplating a faith in Jesus or you have walked with Jesus for many years.

It doesn't matter who you are...

your ethnicity or your education,

your social or economic status,

your gifts and passions or your sexual preference.

What matters most to God is fruit coming from a heart of repentance, fruit that naturally grows from the mercy of God.

A willingness to repent with a heart posture that is open to God and a response of "What should I do?" may lead to a question that Luke hopes you'll ask, “What would encountering Jesus, the son of God and the son of Adam mean for you, especially since he came with hope, not wrath?”

As you come to the table, another place where heaven meets humanity, please come to engage God in whatever way you need.

As you take the bread and the juice or wine, which represent Jesus' body and blood, I invite you to ask Jesus what you need to understand about Him. Open your heart to Him. Repent.

Let's pray:

Father, open our ears to receive a word from you.

Jesus, open our eyes to see you in the place we are this morning.

Holy Spirit, open our hands and move our feet to love others in the places we need to go.

God, give us hearts of repentance. Amen.

One Word: Grow

It's only January but it feels like spring in Portland. I see my hyacinths poking up in my yard which is bad news if we get another cold spell. But seeing the little shoots in the dead of winter is the perfect metaphor for where I'm at right now.

It has been a long time since I have posted on my blog. Nothing new really. I've been sporadic for quite a while as I journeyed with my sister through chemo treatments and then a stem cell transplant. When she passed away last spring, my world stopped spinning and I grieved deeply. It was hard to restart it.

Eventually I felt small movements under my feet. But I still did not feel like writing. In fact I questioned why I was blogging at all. Nothing felt right. After a year of flying back and forth to Florida to help care for my sister, I suddenly was faced with an empty calendar. I had nothing to look forward to. I had nothing to say. Until last Sunday.

Last Sunday I preached for the first time in my own church. I felt like a shoot daring to defy the season of death and reaching for life. It felt so good to emerge from the soul-crushing dirt and breathe the fresh air of freedom and hope once again.

I had preached before - for women's retreats, for workshops at conferences, for churches in the area. But never for the church I attended.

Though I loved preparing "talks," I did not aspire to be a preacher. I took the one required preaching class in order to get through seminary. Instead I focused on developing as a teacher in a church. That changed a few years ago when I preached my first Sunday morning sermon for a church in a nearby town. The second time I preached, same town but different church, a man came up to me and said, "Harriet, people need to hear your preaching."

I didn't know what to do with that affirmation. I had never been invited to preach in my own church and probably never would. I wasn't sure I had a gift for preaching and I wasn't sure how I could find out. I caught myself most Sundays reworking in my mind the sermon I heard into my own voice. I was terrified at the thought of preaching but the longing to do it grew stronger and stronger. So when I asked a pastor if someone would take me under their arm and teach me, it hurt that he kept forgetting my request. Or ignoring it, despite the church's public policy that women could preach.

Disappointed and confused, I decided to leave. To be honest, it was partly because of how I was treated. But mostly I came to the realization that I no longer fit in a church without complete equality for women. It really wasn't the pastor's fault or the church's fault. They were clear on this issue. Women would never be viewed as fully equal and my expectations to be treated as such were unrealistic. Now entering the latter years of my life, I decided I did not want to spend those years always feeling frustrated, wondering if I was fully living God's purpose for me.

So I left because I was tired of feeling caged and fighting the system. I left to search for a community with whom I could grow old and deeper still. I found one and it has been great. Evergreen Community is not perfect but it has become home. I finally can rest from hitting gender barriers and being hit by gender insensitive remarks.

The difference women elders make for a community is discernible. The value of keeping small and planting if it gets too big means every voice counts when making decisions. Power is given away rather than forced from the top down. The elders talk of the "community tax" which means the church is committed to investing in others so that those who are exploring gifts are given opportunities to exercise them. That may mean imperfect lessons, forgotten details or awkward sermons.

I preached for the first time in my church and it wasn't perfect. But in that moment I realized and accepted God's wisdom and grace in my journey to this place. What's been amazing is the style of preaching at Evergreen, which is more teaching-preaching. It so fits me! I can exercise my primary gift while I'm learning another so it feels less intimidating to try this new thing.

Because I believe in God's sovereignty, I believe this is where he wanted me all along. I just had to take a few detours along the way, detours that included important growth experiences, some of which were painful but necessary. I had to discover who I really was and what I really believed.

I know I still have a lot more to learn but I see now that God used the hurt and the humiliation, the misunderstandings and the mistakes of these past years to bring me to the starting point of a season of new growth. As one friend put it, "God takes the shit in our lives and turns it into fertilizer to grow beautiful things." I don't know if I'll grow into a preacher but at least it's a safe, nurturing place to try.

It feels like winter is finally ending. I smell spring in the air.

And I think I found my one word for the year: grow.

The Gospel In An Alabaster Jar

I tell you the truth, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.

My guess is, if I were to ask you who Jesus is referring to and what she did, you would have to scramble into the deep recesses of your Bible memory to come up with the story. Or most likely, the connection between his statement and her story has never stuck though you may know the story well. It is recorded in Matthew 26:6-13, Mark 14:3-9 and John 12:1-8. (Luke 7:36-50 is a story of a different woman.)

While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.

With that one act, a firestorm of angry words were loosed as the disciples argued the value of the perfume and where it should have gone. But Jesus defended her. He validated her expression of devotion and reframed it as part of his journey toward the cross.

Wherever this gospel is preached, her story is to be told. How many times have preachers been obedient to these words of Jesus? How could such an amazing tribute be so forgotten?

Ever since my Greek class in seminary where I wrote a 20 page paper dissecting this story, I have been on a mission to wipe away the centuries of dirt and dust on her epitaph. What she did should inspire and encourage every woman who knows the transforming power of the gospel.

Usually the gospel is associated with the twelve male disciples who walked with Jesus, heard his teaching, witnessed numerous miracles, gathered to eat the last supper with him, and then changed the world after the resurrection.

But you also have to embrace twelve disciples who lacked faith in the threatening wind and waves (Matt. 8:26, 14:31), who had no compassion on the hungry multitudes (Matt. 14:15), who were dull when it came to parables (Matt. 15:16), who were stumbling blocks to Jesus' path to the cross (Matt. 16:23), who divided over greatest among them (Matt. 20:24), who betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver (Matt: 26:14, 27:3), who fell asleep when Jesus needed them most to pray (Matt:26:40), who chose violence instead of trust when challenged by a soldier (Matt. 26:52), who chose denial rather than loyalty when challenged by a servant girl (Matt. 26:70), and finally, who were absent when Jesus was laid in the tomb and were absent when he was resurrected (Matt. 27:60, 28:10).

In his gospel account Matthew often is less than favorable in the depictions of his fellow disciples. But when it comes to the story in chapter 26, he shines a brilliant spotlight on a woman who, sandwiched between stories of betrayal, represents the ideal disciple.

Though John identifies her as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, Matthew keeps her unnamed for the purpose of setting her as the example of discipleship for everyone, both male and female. Interestingly, Matthew never refers to any other of the stories of this significant family trio nor names them.

Yet we know Mary well from the other gospels as the woman who has already broken a serious cultural glass ceiling by sitting at the feet of the Rabbi Jesus. The male voices of complaint are strangely silent. The voice you hear is Martha's and her complaint leads to a gentle rebuke from Jesus concerning priorities. This story is often used to encourage women who identify with her to be more like Mary, to take the time to stop and sit at the feet of Jesus in private devotion.

But we could take this story further and encourage women to sit at the feet of Jesus with the men. Or encourage women to not criticize women who are called to be in the room with the men rather than in the kitchen.

So many layers of meaning...but back to Mary and her alabaster jar.

In Matthew's one snapshot of her, Mary does not disappoint us in showing us again she moves outside men's boundaries and lives in the freedom of Christ.

For Matthew, she is the personification of devotion, loyalty and extravagant love. Her simple act is transformed into a sacred act by Jesus. What the disciples misunderstand and judge is received by Jesus and elevated alongside the gospel. When they think they have a handle on Jesus' teaching especially concerning the poor (they had just heard the parable of the sheep and goats - Matt. 25), a woman  steps into their man cave and with one act, upsets their rules and rearranges their priorities. She does not utter a single word, yet she teaches the men. She seeks no glory, yet now her story is to be remembered by preachers until the end of time.

Among the stories of these disciples, her story must not be lost or forgotten lest we disobey Jesus. Among the stories of leaders and disciples today, our stories as women must not be lost or forgotten lest we disregard what Jesus set out to do.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.

Isaiah 61:1-3

Women are also oaks in the forest in a mutual display of his splendor.

Long defined by the curse and confined by earthly traditions, our stories have been redeemed by Jesus and elevated alongside the stories of men.

Often misunderstood and judged, our acts of discipleship and gifts of service are sacred, being ordained by our one, true Master.

Between the stories of failure or betrayal or abuse by men are women who quietly enter the room with courage, head straight to the feet of Jesus and declare without words their place as an equal disciple.

Matthew, Mark and John were three men who obeyed Jesus by including Mary's story in the gospel accounts. But his command went beyond the historical borders of the written word to the wherever preaching of the spoken word. With his statement, the picture of a most favored and faithful disciple took feminine form.

Any church who takes seriously the words of Jesus should tell Mary's story each time the gospel is preached. Even more, in considering the broader implications of his tribute, every church should validate the presence and stories of women in their midst.

Otherwise the image of a Christ is incomplete and unbalanced just as the image of God would be incomplete without the Genesis creation of male AND female.

As for me, I will never forget Mary's story. I will keep walking into the room with my "alabaster jar" in obedience and devotion to my Jesus.

Eulogy for My Sister

The thought of writing a eulogy for my younger sister, Pat, was a daunting one for me. So a couple weeks ago I decided to flee Portland and go to our family beach house where there would be fewer distractions. I had no idea how I could condense into a few minutes a lifetime of memories and include with those words some measure of comfort and closure. At the least I had narrowed my thoughts down to one thing – my perspective as her one and only sister.

I began by searching for all the quotes I could find on sisters. So today I offer a few of the ones that helped me decide what stories to tell and thoughts to share. It seems appropriate to borrow words from authors since Pat was such an avid reader.

Here is my first quote from Charlotte M. Yonge, which is also my disclaimer:

“Elder sisters never can do younger ones justice!”

But for Pat, I will try.

It is so true what Susan Merrell says: “Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk.”

In our particular dawn to dusk life as sisters, however, there was a long period in the middle when we were not very sisterly. It started in high school where our personal tastes in activities, friends and values went in separate directions. It continued through college years, weddings, births and the raising of our children with occasional intersections reminding us that we did share the same family. Communication was minimal.

All this to say I didn’t know my sister very well during those years.

Cali Rae Turner said this about her own sister: “The best thing about having a sister was that I always had a friend.” Unfortunately I didn’t realize Pat could be my friend for much of my life. But that changed when our father passed away in 1993 not long after he retired to Florida. Pat and I became responsible for our mother’s care.

So my sister-stories are broken into two parts: our growing up years on Okinawa and then our grown up years as Mom’s caregivers.

I was 2 years old when Pat entered my world on September 23, 1958. Most of my memories come from the black and white photos now fading in our albums. Some are imbedded in my brain. But others were refreshed as Pat and I reminisced about life on Okinawa in more recent years.

I laughed when I read this quote by Barbara Alpert: “Sister. She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway...Some days, she’s the reason you wish you were an only child.”

I have no memory of this at all but Pat told me she used to push my buttons so badly that Dad gave me permission to slap her if she didn’t stop. Apparently the slapping got out of control and he had to withdraw his permission. I don’t know if that reveals I was a potential sister abuser or that Pat was a real pain in the ass as a kid.

I really don’t remember the slaps or even how annoying she was but I do remember the fun we had.

We both loved the hill behind our house where we climbed aboard our cardboard boxes to race over the bumps and knife-sharp blades of waist-high grass.

We both loved the annual carnival organized on the military base. We might watch a snake and mongoose fight or jump out of the parachute tower but Pat and I spent most of our time racing go-carts. Still in grade school, our favorite thing to do was to challenge the macho servicemen to a race. If we won, they had to pay for our next ride. We hardly spent any money those summers. Of course we didn’t tell the guys that we were such regular patrons at the go-carts the operators would secretly tune our carts for greater speed.

Pat and I also loved roller skating. We spent many weekends on the outdoor rink. You guessed it. We were always up for the races and often won in our separate age divisions. But we also had some differing skills. While I gravitated toward figure skating, Pat was incredibly good at limbo. I could never match her balance and strength.

During middle and high school our interests diverged even more.  She became the athlete and I became the nerd. I’m not sure which was more profitable. I may have earned more money for my grades but Pat avoided more punishment. While I found myself grounded for a month at a time every other month during my teenage rebellion, Pat used her athletic skills to her advantage during hers. Whenever she got grounded, she would plan a father-daughter time of shooting hoops and then casually challenge Dad to a game in which every shot she made would be one day deducted from her restriction period and every shot he made would be one day added. Pat ended up never staying grounded.

Even so she turned out all right.

When I left home to attend college in the U.S., I would say Pat and I were not really friends.  Mainly we just didn’t understand each other very well. But we slowly made up for those lost years after our mom moved to Oregon 17 years ago to live with my family.

In fact in our later years, our divergent tastes and values began to converge again, sometimes to the point of weirdness. Like the time we picked the same pattern and color of material to recover furniture unbeknownst to the other. Or the time Pat came to Portland wearing the identical sandals I had also purchased from Macys.

Margaret Mead said, “Sisters is probably the most competitive relationship within the family, but when the sisters are grown, it becomes the strongest relationship.”  Her observation was true for us.

As much as I love our mother, it hasn’t been easy to know how to care for someone when communication is very limited and challenging. My appreciation for Pat grew tremendously as she became my sounding board and support whenever I needed her.

Carol Saline nails what Pat was really good at doing. She wrote, “Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other.”

In a scene in the book The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern where a woman has lost her younger sister in a tragic accident, the character confesses this in her eulogy: “I do not mourn the loss of my sister because she will always be with me, in my heart. I am, however, rather annoyed that my Tara has left me to suffer you lot alone.”

I confess as well I am annoyed that my sister has left me to care for Mom alone, but then I trust that she has helped me build enough courage to handle the rest without her. For those of you who experienced Pat as a safety net, I hope you also believe that you have enough courage to live life without her.

When Pat called and asked me to come after her diagnosis was made, there was no question in my mind I would be there for her as well. Louisa May Alcott said, “Help one another, is part of the religion of sisterhood.” I’ve learned that to be true as our hearts were knit together in a strengthening sisterhood and friendship.

I don’t want to spend time right now recalling everything from the last 9 months as she battled this horrible monster called cancer. Many of you have followed her journey through the Caring Bridge site. Obviously the last few weeks were the most difficult as death came sooner than any of us expected or wanted.

But I want to summarize those weeks by borrowing the words from Charlotte Bronte who describes the last days of her dying sister, Emily. They seem appropriate for Pat.

“My sister Emily first declined. The details of her illness are deep-branded in my memory, but to dwell on them, either in thought or narrative, is not in my power. Never in all her life had she lingered over any task that lay before her, and she did not linger now. She sank rapidly. She made haste to leave us. Yet, while physically she perished, mentally, she grew stronger than we had yet known her. Day by day, when I saw with what a front she met suffering, I looked on her with anguish of wonder and love. I have seen nothing like it; but indeed, I have never seen her parallel in anything. Stronger than a man, simpler than a child, her nature stood alone.”

Before I close I have a couple more stories to tell you, one that I only learned about soon after Pat was diagnosed with lymphoma. These are especially for those of you who surrounded her with your faith and prayers.

Her journey with cancer included a path of embracing a faith in Jesus Christ. She began to ask me questions about God, Jesus and the Bible maybe because I have been a friend of Jesus since high school and have my master’s degree in theology. Despite the lack of religious discussion in our home, I realized , like me, Pat possessed a natural inclination toward God and spiritual things for a long time. In these past 9 months her inclination developed into a confident faith.

I also believe God had his loving hand on Pat for a long time. She told me the story of one particular night many years ago when the children were very small.

She woke up to find a young, well-dressed man in her bedroom. It startled her but for some reason she felt no fear. Silently the man left her room. She decided to get out of bed and follow after him. She never once thought she needed to wake Chuck up. After a brief pause in the living room and a long gaze at Pat, the man exited out the front door. Still without any sense of alarm, Pat turned to go back to her bedroom, but as she passed through the kitchen she smelled gas and saw that one of the burners on the stove had been left on. She quickly turned it off and realized if she hadn’t gotten up the family would have been in danger.

Pat asked me what that experience meant. Was he an angel? I could tell she had wanted to ask that question for a long time.

I answered her that I did believe in angels and perhaps what she saw was indeed an angel. I then told her this experience revealed to me one thing – God had his eye on her and her family. However I also explained this experience could not be taken as a guarantee of continued protection. God would not always provide escape from suffering or death. But no matter what she faced in the months ahead, she could lean into his promise that he would always be present with her.

A few weeks later Pat decided she wanted to watch one of the Katie Couric shows that had been recorded on her DVR.  She randomly picked one. The show’s topic happened to be “Heaven.” Katie interviewed several guests who had died but then after a short period of time came back to life. All of them testified they experienced some form of what they believed to be heaven during that period. After the show Pat and I talked about heaven.

From that point on she never waivered in her belief that God was with her and that heaven was her destiny.

One day while we were waiting for test results in Tampa to find out why Pat was declining after the transplant, she called me into her bedroom. She wanted to tell me her last goodbyes, tell me how much she loved me. I was not ready for this. I refused to give up on her treatment. I wouldn’t let her say her goodbyes.

Exasperated she gave me that look she gives when people don’t take her seriously. Then she cupped her hands around my face, drew me close and declared, “Harriet, I’m going to be alright!” I knew what she meant. After gazing into her eyes for a few seconds, I conceded and said, “Yes, Pat, no matter how this turns out, you are going to be alright!”

In the moment of her passing, Pat’s face showed no pain and no fear. It was a moment of sacred peace. And I imagined when God welcomed her into heaven, he took her face into his hands and said, “You have done well, my brave daughter!”

I miss my sister terribly.

These words from Louise Bernikow express my moments of deep grief:
“Between sisters, often, the child’s cry never dies down. “Never leave me,” it says, “do not abandon me.”

But then I choose to say these words from Katherine Mansfield:
 “Bless you, my darling, and remember you are always in the heart – oh tucked so close there is no chance of escape – of your sister.”

I hold Pat in my heart now but some day I will see her face to face. Pat, you cannot escape your sister.

Departures: A Reflection on Death

• I am sitting next to my sister as she lays in her hospice bed dying, not from the cancer she's been fighting since August but from a side effect of her most recent chemotherapy and bone marrow transplant. So devastatingly ironic. Pat beat the cancer but not a side effect and it has blindsided us. 

  
  The family is working hard to keep her comfortable. She hasn't had any water for a week so we know her time is very short.
  
  

  I am grateful to be present with her just as I have been for most of the last nine months. Once in awhile she'll open her eyes and I think perhaps she recognizes me. It's so hard to let her go. Her body is not letting go too easily either. But without water it will be forced to release her precious soul to God.
  
  

  I know if Pat were to suddenly become conscious of her surroundings, she would be so disappointed to still be here. She had expressed that disappointment the morning after she started hospice. A few days later she lamented how much harder it was to die than she thought. I think she underestimated the strength and will of her body to stay alive.
  
  

  Waiting with my sister in this very difficult time has stirred up many reflections on death and the process of dying. If you were to look at Pat's face, you'd never know she is dying. She is as pretty as ever. As I gaze at her face and stroke her beautiful bald head, I can't help but think about one of my favorite movies, "Departures," which won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film in 2008 (it's on Netflix streaming).
  
  

  It caught my attention for two reasons. First, it is set in Japan (I am half Japanese born and raised on the island of Okinawa). Second, the story centers around a cellist (my husband plays the cello).

  
  The cellist loses his job in the symphony which forces him to sell his beloved instrument and look for another job. He falls onto a completely unexpected career path, training to be a "nakanshi" or one who prepares the dead for burial. He also falls into disfavor with his wife and friends who are abhorred by his "unclean" work.
  
  

  I have watched it 4 or 5 times now, most recently with Pat's husband and their adult kids. I am continually struck by how differently death is treated in America compared to Japan. Or more specifically, how different the perspectives are concerning the body when the spirit has departed.
  
  

  I have been to a few memorial services. I have been to even fewer viewings of the body. In my experience people stand in line and spend very little time, usually seconds, to capture their last memory of their beloved family member or friend. Not once have I viewed a body prepared in such a way that it captured the essence of the living person. I never had the expectation that a body could look the same on either side of death.
  
  

  Until now.
  
  

  In "Departures" as you watch the young cellist transform from a vomiting apprentice to a professional, you quickly sense the Japanese have a different view of the body. It is treated with such tender care in a ritualistic preparation for burial. It is beautiful to watch.
  
  

  One thing that caught me by surprise was the location of the ritual. It is not performed in a cold room of a mortuary. No, in Japan, it is a community affair as both family and friends gather in a home to watch the nakanshi prepare the body of their loved one.
  
  

  As his training progresses, the cellist learns there is a story behind every departure. His job is to make space for that story to emerge and provide what the subtitle suggests: the gift of last memories.
  
  The ritual is done very slowly, giving time for the onlookers to respond to each movement of his hands as well as to the other people in the room. Eventually there is a noticeable change in their response to the departed one. The facial expressions and verbal exchanges reveal stories either filled with conflict and pain or filled with love and wonderful memories. Certainly all are filled with deep grief and loss.
  
  

  Another thing that caught me by surprise was the goal of the nakanshi to capture the essence of the life of the departed. For the first time I realized how little value we place on our physical bodies once the spirit departs. We hurry to bury or cremate it. We minimize its place in our journey of grief, in our loved one's journey to eternity.
  
  

  As the cellist/nakanshi gently shapes each face to its previous living resemblance and meticulously applies makeup, I begin to see each body as a redeemed, restored vessel for all the memories of both the departed and the left behind. A vessel with its own unique glory shaped by the years it lived with a soul. No matter the story, the last memory for the onlookers will be the memory of the departed's best self.
  
  

  Pat was prepared for and unafraid of death. One of her first statements after receiving the diagnosis was, "I have lived a good life. I am ready to die." Even now as death approaches, her beautiful face still celebrates the good life she had. Her current unconscious state of transition into eternity still betrays her incredible strength.
  
  

  Both "Departures" and being with Pat in her dying has changed me in profound ways. I want to be able to say at the end of my life, as Pat did, "I lived a good life and I'm okay with dying." And I want my body to tell my story. I want my body to display the glory of a life filled with love and beauty and God.
  
  

  Recently a  high school classmate of Pat's posted a quote on Facebook:

  It takes a heart-filled person to live, a courageous person to fight to live, but the ultimate instance of honor and bravery comes to those who are willing to face the end of life.

  It's rare to find one like Pat who displayed all three. Her lasting memories are reflected on her face and in the faces of the multitude of friends and family surrounding her. Her glory is the extravagant love she so freely gave and the faith she embraced in the last months of her life.
  
  Pat, I honor you, my brave little sister. May your departure be filled with peace and grace.

There Is No Middle Ground for Women in the Church

© 2008 Peat Bakke, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

When it was time for recess in grade school, I usually made a beeline for the seesaws. I loved flying up and then dropping suddenly to hit the ground with a thud.

But I loved even more the challenge of keeping the seesaw suspended in mid-air with a playmate who weighed the same as I did. For some reason the gravitational stalemate gave me a sense of satisfaction.

Perhaps my fascination with playground physics was useful in helping me accept theological tensions such as the sovereignty of God and the free will of humans. I try to hold two seemingly contradictory views together in balance.

But it doesn't work for me as an evangelical woman with a passion for ministry in a church community.

There was a time I tried to keep both a hierarchical view of authority in the church and a freedom for women to use their Spirit-given gifts as they felt called by God.

I had started the journey of wrestling through the issues of a woman's place in the life of the church. But then I got caught in the middle where I was undecided how far I would go along the spectrum of beliefs about women.

I was certainly moving away from complementarian theology (women can only be teachers and leaders of other women; husbands lead, wives submit) which took shape during Bible college and was reinforced in my church. Years later I progressed to believing women could teach men and preach behind the pulpit.

But it was hard to cut the cord to nearly 30 years of believing the absolutist doctrine of ordained male leadership. Surely women could be truly valued and free under the authority of male elders. Godly male elders. Really really kind gentle male elders. And if they had a family, elders who loved their wives and daughters and therefore understood other women enough to pay attention to their voices in the community. (Hmmm...I could never figure out why single male elders were allowed despite the plain reading of 1 Timothy 3:2.)

I was trying to find a middle ground, that sweet spot on the seesaw that kept my complementarian theology balanced with my egalitarian heart. I even found a church that was trying to do the same thing with their "soft" complementarian position.* They really believed that it was possible for complementarians and egalitarians to worship and serve together in one community. I really wanted it to be possible too.

But after six years of disappointments, I quit straddling the fulcrum between egalitarianism and complementarianism. I lifted my foot off the one side and planted both feet fully on the side of full freedom for women and what I believed to be the real vision of the Kingdom. I couldn't run fast enough down the plank to search for a fully egalitarian church, one with women elders, which I found.

I love seesaws, but on the issue of women, the metaphor doesn't work. I cannot be an egalitarian and worship in a complementarian church anymore. And as moderate as a "soft" complementarian church may be, it is still a hierarchy with power vested in men alone.

Eventually my seesaw had to tip to one side or the other. I made the choice of which side with full integrity as I searched through Scripture and with discernment in how the Spirit had been moving in my life all along.

The middle spot is unsustainable on this issue. Gravity will win and one side will crash.

It will crash because theology and Bible interpretation has been and will continue to be a place of disagreement. In other words humans will always pick and choose what they want to believe and practice. Churches that try the middle spot will find that it is a place where theology is suspended or ignored or compromised. But it doesn't work for the long term because theology cannot be kept private when the practices of the church are public. A church cannot avoid practicing their doctrine of women. So complementarians walk out of services when a woman preaches and egalitarians grieve where women are absent or silenced.

It will crash because we are sinful. In other words humans are limited and fallible and will always struggle with loving well. So there is no such thing as truly benevolent male elders. Sin has distorted perceptions of women as well as perceptions of men. The only way to overcome sin's impact on gender relations is to distribute the power equally and create a leadership space where every voice has authority and choice to submit to one another. Without women in the room, hidden misogyny or damaging attitudes may not be exposed. As long as men hold absolute authority there is always the possibility for blind spots and an inability to hear women accurately. And maybe even the possibility of abuse. How can a church address justice issues in the world if it's not willing to address justice issues in its own house?

It will crash because we can't rid ourselves of our cultural influences and agree upon one lens through which we view and interpret the world or Scripture. In other words humans will always have their biases. But many biases have changed through the course of history. Much of God's will in heaven and the movement of the Spirit on earth is a mystery but if we pay attention to what He has been doing through time, we can glimpse the path we should take culturally. If God created male and female to rule together at the beginning and if there is no gendered hierarchy in the new heavens and new earth, then the middle time of the church should be an increasing transformation into what God intended and will bring about in the end.

The transformation may be slow, but it's unstoppable. And it's better understood in hindsight.

Luther's Reformation tells us that the church got it wrong at one point. When it comes to women, they have it wrong again. But I believe there's another reformation in the air. It may be hard to find evangelical, egalitarian churches now but I sense a tipping point ahead.

The seesaw has a slight tilt to one side. 


*The "soft complementarian" position is articulated by Craig Blomberg in his essay found in the revised edition of Two Views on Women in Ministry. The doctrine and its practice is established by loosening up on some biblical passages while holding fast to others. Women are free to use their Spirit-based gifts in teaching and preaching but they are excluded from positions that hold the highest level of authority in the church whether it's an elder board or a senior pastor position.