Grace In Time of Need

A Pastoral Letter To the Woodlawn Chapel Community

Earlier this week, a young woman known to many in this church died unexpectedly. Like any tragedy, it left many people feeling lost, confused, grieving. Our hearts were suddenly burst open in by the awkward blows of grief: overwhelmed with sadness, tears, frustration; but also filled with compassion and concern for Wendy's family.

It is in these moments that we stumble along in faith, feeling perhaps as though God doesn't care or even that God has stopped caring. Grief hits us like the nonstop push of tides along the ocean's coastline. It brushes against us, pulling us to a new place, dislocating us temporarily until we can regain our balance. Who is there to care? Who will walk with us? What will we say to those who are grieving?

"Do not neglect to meet together," wrote the author of Hebrews. Surely he knew something about the nature of grief. In other words, just showing up is very important. The tendency is to pull away from others in our sadness, to want to be alone. While grieving is very individualized, and it is good to be alone, it is also value in being together. "Bear one another's burdens," wrote the apostle Paul, reminding us that we fulfill the laws of Christ, that we love each other most fully when we learn to share our burdens in community. This is what we can offer each other in the church: a place where grace can be shared, where God's love can be felt.

Henri Nouwen once wrote, "When I reflect on my own life, I realize that the moments of greatest comfort and consolation were moments when someone said, 'I cannot take your pain away, I cannot offer you a solution for your problem, but I can promise you that I won't leave you alone and will hold on to you as long and as well as I can. There is much grief and pain in our lives, but what a blessing it is when we do not have to live our grief and pain alone."

Be the church...together! May God's peace be with us all in this time of grief. -- Chris

Pentecost

“Setting Aside Our Fears”
Pentecost & Confirmation Sunday
May 27, 2007
Romans 8:12-17
A sermon by Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating


Paul reminds us that opening ourselves to being led by God sets us free from fear, changing our future from death to life.


Maybe you saw the Newsweek essay a few weeks ago by Paula Spencer, a mother in North Carolina whose pre-teenage daughter’s friends were amazed that her pantry was filled with regular potato chips and not soy chips. “Apparently,” sighs Spencer, “I’m not nervous enough.”

We protect kids from everything but fear, says Spencer.

She goes on, citing ubiquitous canisters of hand sanitizer, worries about obesity, or maintaining grade point averages, kids who are “A” students getting summer tutors to stay on top of their classes, parents hover too closely near their teenage children, rearranging schedules out of fear their son or daughter won’t know anyone in their math class--even playgrounds retrofitted to decrease injuries and The fears mounted all summer, writes Spencer, climaxing in a series of phone calls from mothers worried about declining test scores in a school district that consistently produces more “A” students than any other in the state. Spencer thinks that perhaps the biggest thing we ought to fear is the effect this “collective paranoia” will have on our youth.

Of course, we could add to the list: fear of terrorism, global warming, retirement, fear of aging, fear of illness, fear of paying for college (we’re going to have two offerings next year). There is, apparently, a lot we ought to be worrying about…most of it rooted in the worry that we will somehow be out of control.

But today is Pentecost, and I feel a new wind blowing.

Today is Pentecost, and I believe God is coming to us…to release us from our fears, to set us free from anxiety, and to lead us in becoming God’s children. Today, the wind of God’s spirit blows around us, challenging us to let go of old assumptions, inviting us to dream new dreams, reminding us of our identity as God’s children. The wind of the Spirit beckons us, and the question we must ask ourselves is, “Are we willing to be led as God’s children in shedding our fears and accepting God’s power in our lives?”

It is, I believe, the same question believers have always been asked. The early believers were gathered that Pentecost morning expecting something to happen, but unsure of what. Pentecost, of course, is a Jewish festival, derived from the Greek word meaning “fiftieth.” Fifty days after Passover, the Jews celebrated the “feast of the harvest,” one of the most important feast days in the Jewish calendar. Fifty days after the death and resurrection of Jesus the Spirit came upon the apostles, gifting the church for its ministry, inviting them to dream new dreams, and reminding those gathered of God’s transformational power. “Suddenly,” writes Luke, “from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, it filled the house where the disciples were sitting.” Power came upon each believer. Suddenly, the great diversity of people milling around Jerusalem that day were united in understanding each other’s language, reversing the curse of Babel. A new wind was blowing that day, inviting the church to be led by God in setting aside its fears and suspicions. That day, they were reminded that all God’s people are to be called children of the living God.

It must have been a startling, jarring experience. Their neatly ordered world collapsed in the presence of the Spirit. The surprising gift of God lifted them to new life, but also reminded them that they were not in control.

Yes, it is Pentecost, and we are out of control. And that, I believe, is good news.

It is good news because it shows us the truth: ultimately, we never were in control. We were pretending, the way children pretend to dress up in mommy’s shoes and jewelry. There’s only so long we can pretend to wear those high heels, and pretty soon we stumble around and fall down.

A new wind is blowing, and it is time to stop pretending we’re in control.

In one of his books, Michael Lindvall recalls seeing a New Yorker cartoon that caught his attention. Two wealthy “tycoon” types are standing on the lawn of an incredible estate. Swirling their cocktails, the two finely dressed men stare out toward the expansive sea…certainly the Hamptons…and then one says to the other, “You know, sometimes I wish someone else were captain of my fate and master of my soul.”[1]

The truth is this, says Lindvall, a Presbyterian minister: “Somebody else is.” Yes, A new wind is blowing around us today…it is the wind of God’s spirit reminding that we are not the center of the universe. The hot, holy breath of God blows into our lives, knocking us off balance, but also reminding us that we are not to fall back into a spirit of slavery, but a spirit of adoption. We are now God’s children. that God is at work in this world. The assurance, says Paul, is this: “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to you…”

God’s love so fills our lives that it causes us to set aside those long laundry lists of fears that we make on those nights we cannot sleep. We live with the full assurance that we are truly not the masters of our destiny, the captains of our fate.

If we open ourselves, and are willing to be led.

“All who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.”

To me, that is what makes confirmation so important. Confirmation is important because it signifies a young person’s desire to open themselves to God’s presence. It is not just about learning stuff about the Bible, the Book of Order, or the Book of Confessions. It is the reminder that we are part of God’s family, that we have a place in this church.

Each year, when the students come to meet with the Session, you can always see fear on their faces. You can sense they’re worried about what questions they’re going to be asked, and whether or not they’ll have the right answers. Last week, before we met with the students, someone came up to me. He looked worried and anxious. He said he was concerned about how the meeting was going to go, and he wasn’t sure he knew what to say. This wasn’t one of the kids, it was Keith Campbell, one of our elders. Hannah, Lizzie, Merrill, Alex – you have learned some facts about faith. But now comes the real test: how are you going to open yourself to God? How are you going to let yourself be led by God?

Let me start by teaching you one more lesson. Here is something you ought to memorize, to remember forever: 63X-XXX-XXXX. It’s the church’s phone number. You dial it, and we’ll answer. It is important to learn your church’s phone number, because it is the number you can call when something goes wrong.

Most of you know that my mother had a stroke last Sunday. On Monday, as we were making lists of people to call, I instinctively grabbed a phone and began dialing 909-5XX-XXXX. It’s the number of the La Verne Heights Presbyterian Church in La Verne, California…the church where my family attends, where mother is a member, where she was an elder, where my father was an elder, and where I was confirmed. It is the church that took me to camp each summer, it is the youth group that taught me how to play sardines, where I had my first crush; the church where I fell in love with Jesus, where I first was invited to share in the leadership of the church, where I first experienced my sense of call to ministry. It was there that I grew in faith and learned that I, too, am a child of God. In crisis, who are you going to call?

Be willing to be led by the Spirit of God. Open yourselves to that Spirit, and remember that you are children of God. Amen.
[1] Quoted in The Christian Life by Michael L. Lindvall, (Lousiville, KY: Geneva Press, 2001), p. 28

Joy Ascending!

Where Is The Church Headed?

#3“The World’s Greatest Airshow!”
Ascension Sunday
May 20, 2007
Luke 24:44-53
Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating
©2007

Bruce Tacy, pictured at right, was a friend of mine who was a year ahead of me in seminary. Bruce had an infectious laugh and a friendly presence. Unfortunately for the church, Bruce died of a massive coronary last August in his early 50s. At the time of his death, he was the pastor of a church in suburban Washington, DC. While we were in seminary, we treasured Bruce’s compassion but also his off-beat sense of humor that helped unwind some of the more tightly woven-experiences of graduate theological study. Bruce had a different way of looking at things. For example, when it came time to take ordination exams, Bruce, like all of us, was nervous. He breezed through most of the exams without any problems, until he came to the theological competency examination, a four hour essay test offered on the second day of examinations. That year, the test asked a single question: “What is the importance of the doctrine of the ascension for the contemporary church’s ministry?”

Bruce was stumped. Like many of us, he recalled having discussed the doctrine in theology classes, but then there’s only so much one can recall on short notice. He thought a minute, chewed on his pencil and began to write his answer. Opening the exam booklet, Bruce began his answer with “Beam me up, Jesus!”

The good news for Bruce was the next time he took that test, there were no more questions about the ascension.

On Sundays when we say the Apostles’ Creed, I finish preaching and invite you to stand with me to say what we believe. Stretching your legs after their homiletical rest period, you straighten up, and begin to recite the words, “I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth…” Most of the words trip off your tongue without much thought, perhaps. But then you come to this part: “he ascended into heaven.” I wonder, how many of us have ever stopped at the point and thought, “What do we mean by ‘he ascended?’”


To some, it may seem like a grand air show. Scores of bystanders crowding around Jesus, shielding their eyes from the glare of the sun, staring at him as his feet leave the firm ground. Gape-mouthed, they watch as he is assumed into the clouds. Watching him disappear, they wave silently until they can see him no more, and then, politely applaud…as if this were nothing more than a feat of magic.

What is the significance of this doctrine for our ministry? Luke gives us not one, but two slightly descriptions of Jesus being lifted up out of the disciple’s sight. In both cases, these are hard stories to understand. It is hard to imagine a body rising from our sight, and our minds get bogged down by the laws of gravity and physics. But, as Fred Craddocks says, we shouldn’t linger with the laws of levitation.[1] Instead of trying to defy science, Luke offers us the invitation to deeper belief and faith by upholding a theological challenge to the church, and that is the ascension reminds us of the ongoing presence of Christ, and leads us to deep and unending joy.

Once, while watching a production of a “Passion Play” about the life of Jesus, Methodist pastor Rosemary Brown wondered how the actors would literally depict the Ascension. So she was on “pins and needles” with anticipation as the actor playing Christ leads the disciples out to Bethany and blessed them. Then, standing in the beam of a bright stage light, the action began to rise move backwards, slowly up the side of the hill where he disappears. With that, the light cuts out and the play is over.[2]

Yet, observes Brown, that is not how the story really ends. According to Luke, Jesus’ ascension doesn’t end the drama of the Gospel. Luke reminds us that the disciples returned to Jerusalem, where they worshipped God and were filled with joy.

The ascension of Christ shows just how quickly the disciples have moved from confusion about Jesus’ resurrection to confession and, now to holy, joyful communion with God and each other. This action is consistent with what has been happening throughout Luke’s Gospel. From the very beginning of the Gospel, writes one commentator, has been to see God acting to save, send, and bless God’s people. The joy of the angels, the joy of Mary, the Joy of the Father of the prodigal, all that joy comes into focus here at the end of the Gospel as the disciples are filled with the power and peace of Christ…he blesses them, commissions them, and sends them in God’s name. God’s people are saved. God’s people are sent. God’s people are blessed.

The experience of being blessed by God – being told that you are precious, loved, and affirmed in the deepest part of your being is what raises us this morning. The ascension, wrote John Calvin, “transfuses us” with the power of God, pulling us into the heart of God, reminding us that we are deeply loved by God. [3] The vision of God raising Jesus above the earth lifts us, as the song says, “but when you come and I am filled with wonder, sometimes I think I glimpse eternity.” So Luke tells us the disciples were clothed with power, filled with great joy, continually blessing God. If want to know where the church is headed, then I believe we ought to begin by letting our lives be filled with that sort of deep, wondrous joy.

I don’t mean silly, giddiness. I don’t mean rose-colored glasses that looks away from pain, injustice, and agony. The joy of faith reminds us that because Christ has ascended, we, too, are filled with the power of God…we have been lavished with the riches of God’s love. Such deep joy, I believe, comes from the reminder that the ascension is yet another sign of God’s grace.

Not long ago, a psychology professor in Atlanta assigned a class to identify a person you feared the most and to go and interview that person. The purpose was to see how stereotypes of people fall away when we befriend people we do not know, persons we have labeled as different as ourselves or persons with whom we have serious disagreements. To the shock of one devout Christian in the class, nearly 40% of the students in the class said the people they feared most are Christians.[4]

How widespread that fear actually is in our world, I do not know. But I know this: if Christians are feared, it is perhaps because our lives do not fully reflect the joy given to us in Christ. If this is true, then we need to remember that perfect love casts aside all fear. Such love comes to us from the God who raises us with Christ. Such love throws a party for a prodigal son who wasted the family fortune, and such love heals a woman suffering from a crippling illness, and such love brings peace to sinners like you and me. Such love, dear friends, is offered to us in grace of the ascension…and it should fill our lives with deepest joy. Amen.


[1] Fred Craddock, Luke, p. 294.
[2] “Sent Forth by God’s Blessing,” The Rev. Rosemary Brown, http://www.day1.net/, May 12, 2002.
[3] Cf. “The Ascensions—a Promise of Great Things To come” by John S. McClure, www.pcusa.org/today/believe
[4]Daniel B. Clendenin, “The last Sentence of the Bible: Grace to All” http://www.journeyswithjesus.net/, May 20, 2007.

Listening for God

Sunday, May 13, 2007
“Where Is The Church Headed?”
#2 “Listening for God”

Acts 16:9-15
John 5:1-9


Swinging back and forth in an old porch swing with her daughter, writer Denise Roy observes that in that rather peaceful, squeaky movement back and forth, she and her daughter find a deep, lasting peace. “Here,” she writes, “we have room enough for life. We have a rhythm to our day. We have exactly enough time for what is truly important.”[1]

The ironic thing, says Denise, is that this swing is bolted to the fake front of a house in an museum exhibit titled “Step into the Past.” Denise says it doesn’t matter to her daughter that the yellow house they’re sitting in front of is just a façade, or that the porch isn’t real. What matters is that the mother sitting next to her is real.

You may remember Denise, she came to Woodlawn Chapel a few years ago and read from her first book, My Monastery is a Minivan. Caught in the web of modern life, she muses that it is hard to slow down in our personal lives and listen to what is truly important.

“I want to slow down, to sit and snuggle, to step fully into the present.”[2]

That seems to me to capture a yearning most of us have these days. We work long days. We are perpetually busy. We race home, only to step into the ongoing, chaos that awaits us there. We yearn to step fully into the present and to feel the presence of God around us. That is a yearning we can identify with whether or not we are parents, but I do think mothers especially long for the feeling of wholeness Denise Roy describes. Some years ago, I gave Carol a children’s book for Mother’s Day – it was called “Five Minute’s Peace.” The same year our neighbor gave her a t-shirt that said, “Mom’s Shirt,” and “Wipe nose on dotted line!” That fairly well captured our life then.

Where are we headed? As parents? As God’s people?

In these days leading up to Pentecost, the church spends its time listening to stories of the Spirit’s work in the world, recalling the words of Jesus from the gospel lesson today: “My Father is still working, and I also am working. (John 5:17) God is reminding us of the mission of the church in the world, and on this day the reminder is clear: settle yourselves into a porch swing, open your heart to God, and listen to what God is saying.

Yet that is far from a cut and dry process. Where do we go to open ourselves to God? Just how does that happen? Notice something. In these stories from Acts, is that God seems to be everywhere, appearing to people by way of ecstatic visions and wild dreams. One scholar observed that the word for vision is used twelve times in the entire New Testament; once in Matthew, and eleven times in the Book of Acts. The unfolding drama of the Gospel reveals its power…as women and men, mothers and fathers, children and servants open themselves to the transforming power of the presence of God.
The Spirit is touching lives, causing them to stop where they are to see God in their midst.

And that is a practice we ought to cultivate. If congregations are to remain vital, strong, centers of mission and faith, we need to lead people in the rather socially unacceptable practice of stopping. Yes, stopping – we need to regain a sense of the Sabbath. We need to learn new ways of discovering God’s presence in our lives—new ways of praying. Congregational consultant Herb Miller writes of a nightclub that opened directly across the street from the only church in a small town. Infuriated that someone would be bold enough to do this, the church organized an all-night prayer meeting. The church prayed that God burn the nightclub to the ground. Well, within a few minutes a thunder storm rolled over the town. Lightening struck the building and burned the club to the ground. The club owner filed a lawsuit against the church, which of course denied any responsibility.

As the judge heard the case, he closed the filed and turned to both parties and said, “It seems that wherever the guilt may lie, the tavern keeper is the one who really believes in prayer, while the church doesn’t!”[3]

If we wonder which direction the church is headed, perhaps we should follow Lydia’s lead and wander down to the river.

Luke doesn’t tell us if Lydia was a mother or not, but we do know she was a busy person, a businesswoman of some means, a woman with a mind for enterprise. She was a dealer in purple cloth, a woman well versed in the push and pull of the marketplace. She was successful, probably wealthy. Her life was filled with the noise of commerce, and yet today’s scripture tells us that this Gentile woman was fulfilling the Jewish Sabbath. She is converted by Paul’s preaching, and in many ways becomes a mother in the church.

And it all starts when she finds a quiet place by the river to pray.

The amazing thing is that Paul almost didn’t make it to that women’s prayer group. He had plans to go in a different direction, but we’re told that the Spirit of Jesus prevented him from taking the gospel into Asia, and instead directed him toward Greece. He is compelled to go in a different direction by a vision. That is significant. It comes to home suddenly, awakening him to new life. So instead of heading off into Asia, Paul lands in Philippi, and wanders outside of the city limits to a small place where some women had gathered to pray. It isn’t a remarkable building, it isn’t even an officially-sanctioned synagogue. It is, instead, a small gathering of women eagerly yearning for God.

At the river, these two visions coincide. The providence of God has lead Paul to preach to these women, and the Spirit of God moves in the life of a wealthy Gentile woman named Lydia. She who hungers for God, and Paul provides the meal. Look at the confluence of these two visions: the apostle is led by God, and the receptive heart that is also open to God’s leading.

Both are led to this out of the way place for no apparent reason. But then, as one has said, “God may not act exactly when we want God to act, but God is always on time.” Lydia hears the Gospel. She responds by opening her household, her resources, her very heart to the work of God. Both Lydia and Paul open their lives to God, and the results are amazing.

A few year’s ago on Mother’s Day, we wandered off the beaten path and spent an afternoon playing down at Castlewood State Park. We took off our shoes and splashed in the running water. Sinking my feet into river ooze doesn’t come naturally to me. I much prefer chlorinated blue water to muddy, green-brown river water. But I followed the vision. We splashed. We laughed. We collected pails of rocks and let little fish swim between our toes. But most of all, we opened ourselves to a spectacular vision of what our then-young family could become, in God’s grace.

Soon our lives will take a new turn. But the good news is this: when we trust in the vision that the Spirit of God provides, like it did to Paul, like it did to Lydia, it will open our hearts. It will change us forever. Amen.







[1] Denise Roy, Momfulness, (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2007), p. 51.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Herb Miller, Connecting With God, (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1994), p. 68.

Heritage Flowers

Sneak a peak outside the sanctuary windows, and you'll see that our iris are blooming, to be followed shortly by our peonies.

These marvelous emblems of God's creation were gifts to us a few years back. Their story is a poignant reminder of the meaning of stewardship.

One of our members was walking past an old home in Chesterfield, she noticed that the place had been sold. Soon a developer would level the grounds to a subdivision of new homes. Despite the home's state of disrepair, the gardens were in full bloom. Our member noticed the garden's lush beauty, and commented on it to someone standing nearby. The person, a family member of the home's owner, explained that the owner had loved this garden, and worked hard at cultivating it. He had cared for these plants as if they were children, raising them over decades of his life at the old place. With the owner gone, the home place sold, soon the plants would be bulldozed, too. Our member inquired if he would be interested in donating the plants to Woodlawn Chapel. With the help of others, the plants were loaded in an old pick up and replanted around our building.

Look at our heritage flowers...transplanted in love, shared from one generation to the next. What a great statement about stewardship, and a living reminder of one man's gift of love.

Stewardship is not just writing checks. It's remembering that what we have has been transplanted from another's garden. We're called to till the soil, to make it grow, to cause it to bloom. In God's timing, we may be called to transfer a bit of what we have into another garden. This could be our regular giving to the church, it could be special gifts, or it could be a heritage gift of a portion of our estate. Please consider the state of your garden, and pray about how you will share a portion of its beauty with generations to come. For information about including Woodlawn Chapel in your estate planning, please contact the pastor.

Baptized In Christ

"What marvelous love the Father has extended to us! Just look at it--we're called children of God! That's who we really are..." - I John 3:1, The Message

Where Is The Church Headed?

"Faith, when it comes down to it, is our often breathless attempt to keep up with the redemptive activity of God, to keep asking ourselves, “What is God doing, where on earth is God going now?”’ – William Willimon Acts, p. 99.

“Where Is the Church Headed?”
#1 “The Inside/Outside Church”
Acts 11:1-18
John 13:31-35
May 6, 2007
Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating


After attending our daughter, Katie’s freshman orientation last week at the University of Central Missouri in Warrensburg, I have come up with a new metaphor for anxiety.

Anxiety is a ballroom room full of parents of incoming college freshmen, hundreds of them, who have all been force fed sugary sweet rolls and high-octane coffee before beginning an eight hour orientation program that starts with a workshop titled “Financing Your Child’s Education.” If we could have tapped into the collective anxiety in that room, we could have generated enough electricity to light up the entire state for a year.

All around us pencils were tapping, lists being made, eye brows furrowed. Someone next to me kept tapping his PDA like it was a drum. Meanwhile, the students had been whisked away to another room where they were being told how to deal with nervous parents.

That is not to say that parents are the only ones struggling with anxiety. The students, too, express anxiety, but they do it in their own ways. Not long ago, I winked at our middle daughter, Christine, and whispered a plan. We grabbed a tape measure and burst into Katie’s room while she was studying. To her shocked dismay, we told her were measuring for a new TV after we remodel her room next fall.

Why this anxiety?

For some it was the fear of leaving home, despite the joy that accompanies this evolutionary change. For some parents, the tragedy of Virginia Tech brought to mind all sorts of fears about college safety. Most likely, the anxieties in that room were rooted in a variety of experiences and feelings, and emotions, but one area sticks out: change. More precisely: The fear of change. It grips us because we cannot see past the status quo. We cannot see past the way things are. In his delightful fable of organizational life, Our Iceberg Is Melting, change expert John Kotter tells the story of penguins who are shocked to discover that their iceberg is shrinking. But as one group tries to motivate the others to change behaviors, they run into resistance organized by none other than a clever old penguin named “Nono.” Everytime change is suggested, Nono shakes his head and repeats over and over again, “oh, no-no-no-no-no…” Change is threatening, and it creates ripples of anxiety.

That’s the sort of crisis we encounter in Acts, and, if we’re honest, it is the sort of fear that provokes a response deep within ourselves. Just as Peter and the early struggled with the evolving journey of faith, so do we. The young church is pushed out of its theological nest as it is confronted by the new work God is doing in the world…and so are we. Whether it is a new place on our family’s journey or a new understanding of what God expects us to do, disciples, says William Willimon, are always struggling to breathlessly answer the question: “What is God doing, where on earth is God going now?”[1]

Poor Peter. Both exhausted and exhilarated from his preaching trip, Peter is summoned to appear before the council of apostles and explain himself. Peter shares his new vision. He confirms the rumors: he has eaten with Gentiles.

“Yes,” he says. “It’s true…God did lead me toward the Gentiles. I ate with them. I proclaimed the Gospel to them. I discovered that God is doing something new. I learned that God shows no partiality…that God is not interested in pinning labels people.”

“Who was I to hinder God?” Peter had seen that God shows no partiality: Jew and Gentile, conservative and liberal, the tattooed and the pierced mingled with button-down clean-shaven bankers and managers. No partiality? It was a shock, no doubt…but also, perhaps a relief. Suddenly, the church has been turned inside-out as it remembers who Christ called it to be.

That reminder comes as a challenge and as a relief. It challenges the church to be transformed, even as it reminded the apostles of the Good News they has seen in Jesus Christ. If no one is judged unacceptable to God, then all are welcomed at God’s table. Old assumptions and fears are rejected. Anxieties that question whether or not we are accepted by God fade as we see God’s love claiming our lives, and moving through us to love others. The Spirit’s work releases us from the prison of our anxiety, for we know that we are accepted. That creates in us new energy for expressing that love to others. And that is what is transforming the church. It allows us to trust and to feel the power of the Spirit at work in the world.

Peter sits down. The room is silent.

God is at work here. Yes…God is pushing Peter, the church, all of us in new directions.

Toward the end of our orientation last week, the assistant provost stood to share some encouraging words. Your student, he said, will succeed if they can answer three questions…(1) Why are you here? (2) What do you want to do? And (3) Who are you?...and I thought to myself, “that will preach.” For in fact those are the questions Peter answers as he sees where the church is headed. Why are you here? What do you want to do? And who are you? Peter calls to mind all that Christ had shown him…and he is released from the anxiety that keeps him trapped.

The inside-outside church.

Why are you here? What do you want to do? Who are you? Those are the questions we must answer if we are to experience the gift of God’s transformation. Faith will push us beyond our limits, and gives us a vision of where God will lead us...as individuals and as a church…if only we will let the Spirit lead us away from our anxieties about change.

The great preacher Fred Craddock tells a story about a church. It was a church of some stature, located downtown. Anybody who was anybody went to that church. As Craddock tells the story, you had to be somebody to belong to that church, and if you were poor, or from the wrong side of town, or black, or different in any way, you were not welcomed. Few new members ever joined this church, and it grew older in time. Eventually, all the people of status had died and the church closed. Craddock went back to the town once and discovered that the old building was still standing. Now, however, it was a fancy seafood restaurant. He walked in and saw that tables had replaced pews, and waiters had taken over where ushers once stood. Down where the communion table used to be was a big salad bar. Fred Craddock walked out of the church and muttered to himself, “Now I guess everybody is welcome to eat that the table.”
[1] William Willimon, Acts (Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1988), p. 99.

Where's The Joy?

Where’s The Joy?

Recently, as part of a team from our Presbytery, I was consulting with a Session of a troubled congregation. Things weren’t going well, new members weren’t joining, the building was in disrepair, the leadership languishing. As we began our conversations, I asked them to tell us “What about your church brings you joy?” The silence, as they say, was deafening. We talked for hours about what was wrong, but hardly five minutes was spent describing what brought them joy.

In this troubled world, where can joy be found?

Perhaps the answer comes in knowing the difference between “happiness” and “joy.” The late William Sloane Coffin, a Presbyterian minister and author, once said that, in his assessment, Christian faith was more about finding joy than happiness. “Happiness,” Coffin wrote, “connotes pleasure while joy is a deeper emotion that, far from excluding, can actually include pain. Joy often points to a profound sense of self-fulfillment: ‘For this I was made and meant to be’—that’s a joyful experience.” Coffin concludes: “Far from gloomy, Christians are called ‘Children of light.’”

Where can joy be found? I see it each week as I look upon the faces gathered for worship. We cry together, we laugh together, and we sigh at the unrelenting tragedy of the world – but still we stand and sing together, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!” Gathered together, we discover the deep joy that Christ is alive. Perhaps you find joy in knowing that God is at work in this church – equipping our youth to ring bells, our families to care for victims of Hurricane Katrina, and our youngest ones to sing God’s praise. Or maybe you find joy in knowing that this is a church dedicated to fellowship and study, determined to celebrate our diverse array of gifts. Where can joy be found? Wherever God’s people open themselves to God and affirm the good news that even five Sundays after Easter, Christ is still risen!

Our lives ripple with joy at the news: Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! May that bring you deep and abiding joy.

In Christ…

Chris Keating, pastor

Mission At Home and Abroad

Mission Updates From Woodlawn Chapel:

From paint brushes to Masai weavings, Woodlawn Chapel’s life is filled with the transforming power of mission.

Some highlights:

Members of Woodlawn Chapel have completed and prepared more than 120 gift bags for patients at Cardinal Glennon Children's Hospital in Saint Louis. The gifts are presents for the patients' mothers on Mother's Day...a tangible gift of love and hope for a family in crisis. This year, each gift bag will include a copy of our recently published Bon Appetit From Woodlawn Chapel.

On Sunday, April 22, we welcomed to our pulpit Mr. Bernard Kabibu, an elder in the Presbyterian Church of the Congo and administrator of the Christian Medical Institute of the Kasai (Good Shepherd Hospital). Mr. Kabibu preached an inspiring sermon on mission during worship. Using Matthew 28:19-20 as his text, Mr. Kabibu challenged us to think about the church’s evangelistic mission in Christ, answering the question, “How are we changing our communities for Jesus?” Mr. Kabibu ended his sermon on an emotional note by inviting the congregation to stand and sing the traditional Gospel song, “Bringing in the Sheaves.” As he sang this Gospel hymn in his native language, the congregation joined him in affirming our calling to mission in Christ. More than a few of us had tears in our eyes as his lilting voice called us to consider our own contexts for mission and service.

The joy and emotion of that moment will always be a significant part of this church's story.

Joining Mr. Kabibu was Dr. Leon Mubikayi, medical director of the Good Shepherd Hospital, and one of only seven physicians of the 160-bed hospital. During adult education, they shared stories and photos of the ongoing work of this Presbyterian mission. IMCK is considered one of the premier hospitals in the DRC, providing much needed care for mothers and infants, children, and adults. Their needs include such practical gifts as a tap for a spring of clean water ($500), and support for obstetrical care ($10 will insure a mother’s safe delivery.) As an expression of partnership, Mr. Kabibu presented Woodlawn with a weaving made by Masai villagers. It is a great symbol of a new partnership, and a reminder of our extended Christian family. Please pray for ways that we can be involved further in this mission.

On the same weekend, eleven Woodlawn youth and adults were involved in “Rebuilding Together,” a Saint Louis metro-area project that helps low income citizens remain in their homes. This year’s project was conducted in memory of John Schrotenboer, who was an active volunteer in Rebuilding Together, and a key leader at Woodlawn Chapel who died in September. You can visit their website at http://www.rebuildingtogether.org/. This year, our house captain was John’s son, Brian, whose excellent leadership skills brought honor to his father and pride to his church.

Finally, around 3:00 a.m. Sunday, Woodlawn Chapel member Kyle Price returned from a week of mission with our Presbytery’s Katrina response team in Houma, LA. Work continues on the village which is already hosting volunteers from across the nation. True to form, Kyle traded his drywall clothes for a choir robe Sunday morning. We give thanks for his dedication, and for the commitment of four others from Woodlawn who will be headed to Houma in May.

Give thanks for new mission! Give thanks for the joy of serving! Give thanks for God’s transforming love! If you're looking to be involved in a church that seeks to be in service to Christ, we invite you to join us at Woodlawn Chapel!

Amazed!

Easter Sunday, April 8, 2007
“Amazed”
Luke 24:1-12

Copyright 2007 Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating

The resurrection of Jesus Christ calls us to remember the promise of God’s amazing love.


John Hawes gave me a new understanding of this resurrection business.

John Hawes isn't a theologian, and I don’t think he’s ever preached a formal sermon. In fact, he probably can't spell theologian because he's only six years old. Despite that, little John Hawes can teach us all a lot about resurrection. This boy, you may remember, was the six year-old kindergarten student from Seattle who ran into our hearts as he jumped into his father’s arms last week. John’s father, a Navy Petty Officer, returned home from his deployment and decided to surprise his son at school. Someone tipped off a television news crew, and the whole event was captured on TV. His father stepped into the classroom, looked his son in the eye and said, “Hey, Buddy.” Like any self-respecting six year old boy, John dissolved into tears as he ran into his father’s waiting arms.

His face melted. His legs ran, and there he was reaching for his father’s arms. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy…a moment of truth, and a moment of revelation for their family but also for all of us as we heard Navy Petty Officer Bill Hawes whisper into his son’s ears over and over again: “I’m home. I’m home. I’m home.”

The look on John’s face was amazing as it was precious….could it be true? Could this be the moment? Tears streaming down his face, he little arms wrapped firmly around his father’s muscular body.

It needs to be said, of course, that not all children of military personnel will have the option of greeting their parents again. For them, this image is probably not helpful. For them, this is but an “idle tale,” at best, and probably painful at worst. But as I looked into that little boy’s eyes, there was something about him that said, “amazing!” And I think it struck a chord within our culture. Kleenex is about to report all time profits! Two hundred thousand persons downloaded the tape on YouTube, and nearly seven hundred thousand viewed it on MSNBC. It’s emotional, because it reminds us that over half of the servicemen and women in Iraq are mothers and fathers. Each of those mothers and fathers has at least one John waiting for them at home. Each of them has at least one pair of eyes yearning for the chance to be amazed and delighted by the site of their parent walking through a door. Each one of them has at least one pair of arms that longs to be touched, to be filled…to be loved with that love which reverses lonely absence with grace and laughter-filled presence.

And that is what amazed Peter and Mary and Joanna. Listening to the angels, the two women begin to put together the pieces. Running from the tomb, they surely must have been repeated over and over again the angel’s words, “He is not here, but has risen. He is not here, but has risen.”

Say it to yourself now: “He is not here, but has risen.”

Say it to yourself now, a bit louder, and keep saying it. Say it until you remember what it was like to run at break-neck speeds into the arms of someone who was waiting to lift you up and hold you. Say it until you are able to move beyond the crucifixion to the joy of this morning Say it until you begin to remember God’s amazing love bursting into your life this day. Say it over and over again until you begin to feel the amazement Peter must have felt as he stooped into that tomb and saw the empty linens lying there.

Say it until you begin to remember how resurrection reverses the emptiness of our lives. Afterall, as Shirley Guthrie once observed, the impact of Jesus’ resurrection is not just that it has significance for us after we die and leave this world, but that it also changes the way we live here and now.[1] Jesus’ resurrection amazes us not only because of its eternal consequences, but because it lifts us above the emptiness which so often clogs our every day life.

Say it again, “He is not here, but has risen.”

It is the sort of news which fills us with such incredible joy that, like the women at the tomb, we cannot keep it to ourselves. We must go and tell others, which is a good thing, but so many have forgotten the story. Knowing that something is missing in their lives, but unsure of where to go to make it different, so many keep seeking the living among the dead…filling their lives with another story, a story not about resurrection but about emptiness and hopelessness, a story that dimisses talk about Christ as nothing more than idle chat. A local DJ was rambling on the other day, filling in time between songs, making casual comments about Easter. “Just where do all these traditions come from?” he wondered. “What traditions?” his sidekick asked. “Oh, you know, the real meaning of Easter…the chicks, the candies, the eggs, the bunnies…”

So, the sidekick turned to that most reliable of all sources for information about Easter, the Internet. Google “Easter eggs” and you may find out all sorts of curious information about ancient Egyptian legends about giving decorated eggs at springtime, or rabbits as a sign of new life. But you will find nothing about the power that raised Christ from the dead, or the hope which transformed those earliest Christians, lifting them from despair to faith.

Say it again, “He is not here, but has risen.”

The women then quickly discover that the true work of Easter is not done in graveyards, but in Christian community. And look at this picture of community. It is far from a perfect picture. They have their doubts about this resurrection business. It is, in fact, not until much later that Luke tells us the lives of apostles are fully changed. But they remain in community. They discover the meaning of grace, even as they retell the story of the prodigal son. They discover what it means to share in each other’s joys and sorrows, to pray for each other, to feed the poor and proclaim the power of God that is at work. In that community, they keep telling the stories, over and over again. And it is in that community that they are transformed by the amazing love of God…a love which prompts them to say, finally, “He is not here, but has risen.” They remember the amazing love of God. Transformed, they run into the arms of God and trust in the power of that love to hold us secure.

There is the challenge for us this Easter: to remember what it is like to run toward that love which lifts us, that love which amazes us with its fullness, which seeks to reverse our emptiness, and which reminds us not to keep looking for the living among the dead. Safe in those arms, we become giggling and all smiles, opening our mouths to proclaim this Easter message.

Say it again to yourself, “He is not here, but has risen!”

The amazing message of Easter: absence does not have the last word on our lives. God lives! By raising Jesus from the dead, God has transformed the experiences of absence in our lives with the grace and laughter-filled presence of the living Christ. So now say it with me now, with loud voices. Stand up and say it with conviction, come now let’s say it together: The Lord is risen! He is risen, indeed! AMEN.

I

[1] Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, p. 276